#a minute to pray a second to die

[spilladabalia]

The Flesh Eaters - Digging My Grave

[guerrilla-operator]

The Flesh Eaters // Digging My Grave

Can be my family doctor Can be my family doctor Can be my family doctor Cut out what's unclean I want to slam slam door and scream I want to slam slam door and scream I want to slam slam door and scream I want to slam slam door and scream

[sugarwarachan]

sex pollen troubles - ft. k. bakugou

summary: prohero!Bakugou gets hit with a sex quirk. too bad his roommate hates him—right?

wc: 1.8k

pairing: prohero!Katstuki Bakugou x roommate!reader

content warnings: MDNI, Bakogou has a roommate because his therapist tells him to, fem!reader is an investigative journalist, gratuitous use of Ace (hello gilmore girls fans) idiot Katsuki, pining Katsuki, fingerless gloves make an appearance sorry not sorry, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names like baby, pretty girl, princess, breeding but only if you squint

a/n: word vomited this out in less than 24 hrs

He’s praying you don’t pick up.

“Bakugou?” You sound annoyed, a little suspicious even.

He never calls you.

“Ace.” You hate that nickname, but the thought of saying your actual name in the desperate growl that is his voice right now makes his head spin. “I need - fuck - are you home right now?”

Sex quirks are a dime a dozen these days. He’s been hit with a few before, simple one that are usually pretty easy to shake. (He still hates the premature ejaculate memory, though, coming home with his boxers stiff and an image of you spread out on his bed playing like a film in his head. He hadn't been able to look you in the eyes for weeks.)

He’s never been hit with one as strong as this. The second the mist hit his nostrils he was huffing up the scent of vanilla and citrus and strong black coffee, just the way you like it, before he realized what was happening, the villain ripping down the street in the opposite direction while arousal hit him like a truck.

Bakugou's practically doubled over talking to you now, the ache in his dick throbbing in time with his fucking heartbeat.

“Yeah, I’m home.” Even annoyed you sound like heaven. “What’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

He barks out a laugh, and before he knows it, he's telling you the truth. “Got hit with a sex quirk. A big one.”

Your breath bitches slightly on the other line. He’s pretty sure his cock jumps at the sound.

“And I - " need you right fucking now - “fuck - I can’t call anyone else.”

It has to be you. He’s got women he could call, sure, anyone who might want to get into a pro hero’s pants, but it has to be you for a reason he doesn’t want to look at too closely.

You’re silent for a beat, before you say, “Send me a pin. I’ll come get you.”

He hated you at first. Always talking his ear off about every fucking thing, bringing up articles that remind you of cases you're covering—it was like living with Deku dialed up to 11.

But what he hated even worse was when you stopped talking. When you realized he wasn’t actually gonna come around and be nice to you, when you figured out, oh fuck, he’s actually just an angry prick, and left him alone.

One day he could count on constant chatter when he was back from patrol, the next, nothing at all. You even switched up your schedule so he barely saw you, a fact he didn’t tell his court-ordered therapist because he was supposed to be getting better at being around other people, not worse.

He hates remembering this now with his dick hard as steel and weeping from the tip like he’s fucking 15. The alley is secluded, thank fuck, so no one can see him shaking and groaning, forearms braced on the wall in front of him, head hanging down like a panting dog. He can barely move; every brush of his pants against his erection like a live wire to the brain.

By the time you pull up—five minutes, forty six seconds later, he counted—he’s so frayed and tense that the minute he sees your face, he shouts, “Took you fucking long enough."

Your face shutters closed the way it always does around him, and he wants to fucking die.

“Fuck, Ace, I’m sorry - it’s just, I’m fucking miserable right now - "

“Why did you call me, Katsuki?”

It’s a mistake to look you in the eye. His restraint is a razor’s edge at this point, and seeing your beautiful face is too much. You've always been pretty, but the light shining on your soft hair is convincing him he can write fucking poetry all of a sudden.

“You know why,” he grits out.

You step forward, vanilla and citrus and coffee flooding his nose.

“No, I don’t. You act like you fucking hate me half the time and ignore me the rest.” You scrape a hand across your face in frustration. “And then you call me sounding like that. Why wouldn't I be confused?"

“I want you.” It’s out of his mouth in a flash, and he knows it’s the right thing to say by the way your shoulders relax. “I’m a fucking asshole, I know it. I’m not good at feelings, baby, I'm sorry, but I want you so fucking bad it’s like I could break my teeth over it. It has to be you, Ace, fuck, I’m sorry, it can’t be anyone else - "

You shut him up your mouth, your lips locking into his as both of your noses bump against each other. He doesn’t care; he just needs you as close to him as he can get you. It’s better than anything he imagined, finally touching you, finally giving in to the attraction that’s dogged him ever since you walked into his life.

You taste like coffee and a little bit of that strawberry lip gloss he loves so much. He licks into the seam of your mouth and relishes the shiver that goes through your body.

“Like that, baby?” He breaks away, nosing at your jaw, nipping at the juncture of your throat. That makes you gasp. “You smell so fucking good here.” He jerks his hips, hisses through his teeth as his cock jumps in his pants, pulsing with need.

“Let me,” he hears you say, and you’re tugging his pants open to get your hand around him. The second your fingers wrap around him his eyes roll up in his head. He could cum just from this, he realizes.

“Of course you’d have a pretty dick,” you say with a look of annoyance, and he’s not entirely sure what to say to that besides puff up his chest. You laugh, and it’s almost fond, and goddammit he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything else -

With a growl, he pulls your hand away and backs you up against the wall, peppering kisses down your neck. The whines he’s pulling from your mouth is making everything in his life worth it. He’d fight a thousand fucking villains if it meant this, fingering the seam of your panties under your little skirt as you cry out for more.

“Wear this for me?”

“Like fucking hell I did,” you retort.

“Sure thing, princess.” He runs the pad of two fingers over the soaking wet seam of your panties. A feral grin passes over his face as your thighs tremble and press together. “This just happened to you all on your own?”

He roughly pulls your panties to the side to gather up the slick at your entrance, pushing your hips apart and settling himself between them.

“You’ve gotta come first, pretty girl.” You like when he calls you pet names; he’s been watching the way your skin breaks down out in goosebumps each time. It’s a like a drug being this close to you, making you feel this good. “The second I’m inside ya I’m gonna blow my fucking load so be good and come for me, yeah?”

The rough material of his fingerless gloves rubs against your clit as he stuffs two fingers in your pussy. Your little hole sucks him in greedily as you whine and buck against him.

“Harder, Kats, please - you won’t fucking break me - "

He adds another finger to stretch you out, keeping his palm rocking against your pubic bone with every grind. You’re fluttering around his fingers, whimpers echoing off the walls in the alley.

“That’s it, baby, there you go. Fuck, yeah, you like me stuffing this pretty pussy full?” You dig your nails into his scalp as you hold onto him for dear life, whimpers ratcheting up to moans and cut-off screams as he starts to feel your cunt clamp down hard on him.

You moan his name against his neck as you cum. “Just needed to think about me stuffing you full?” He can’t help but smirk, which quickly turns into a hissing groan when your hand finds him again and positions him right at your core.

“I could say the same for you,” you smirk, rolling your hips and coating the head of his cock in the slick of your orgasm. He chokes on his spit, bracing one forearm on the wall behind you, his free hand stilling your hips in place.

“Lift me up,” you pout.

“Didn’t know you were bossy.”

“Didn’t think you would like it,” you shoot back, rolling down onto his cock and taking an inch of him inside you. “This position’s better, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, you devil woman.” He can barely think. “Baby, I don’t - god fucking damn it - I don’t have any - "

“I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Same. Clean, too, I mean.” He’s rambling. He never rambles. “I’ve got my check-up stats in my phone if you’d like to see them.”

You laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his entire life.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes him aback, but he’s been dying to know what you taste like since he met you, honestly.

“Yeah, pretty girl. You can kiss me.” He nips at your mouth and laughs at your pout when he pulls away. “Let me get all the way inside ya though first, huh?”

He feeds you his dick inch by inch, clenching his teeth at the way you squirm and plead for more. You’re slippery and warm, your cunt making obscene squelching noises with every rock of his hips.

With one final thrust, he’s seated up to the hilt, balls slapping against the meat of your thighs and ass.

“So fucking perfect,” he moans in your ear. “All for me - just for me, isn’t that right, Ace?”

Your head jerks up and down in affirmation.

“Say it, pretty girl. Say you’re fucking mine. Tell me how much you like my dick getting this pussy nice and tight. Bet I can get her to scream again, huh?”

He pinches your clit between two fingers. You jerk in his arms.

“Close, princess? Like it a little mean?”

He rocks his his up so he’s dragging the head of his cock across your g spot, over and over. Your eyes roll back in your head and your breathing gets shallower, shorter.

“Please please don’t fucking stop, ohmygodohmygod feels so fucking good, Kats- "

Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice and all rhythm flies out the window. He grabs the meat of your hips and fucks up into you roughly, shooting thick ropes of cum against your cervix.

The creamy sticky ring at the base of his cock when he pulls out is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

He looks up at you, sees the appreciative gleam in your eye. You're turned on by that, too.

“Can we do this again when we’re home?” he asks. “Maybe after I’ve made you dinner?”

The smile you return is like the sun. “We better.”

[httpsvgin]

ᯓ “SAID YOU’RE A WILD

MUSTANG.” ۶ৎ

“everybody said you’re a killer, but i couldnt stop the way i was feeling the day your record dropped.” (LANA DEL REY.)

BY @MZLLSIT!!! ᥫ᭡

ᯓ PAIRING. hwang in-ho & fem!reader

FANDOM. squid game (seasontwo) ꪆৎ

T!W. shameless smut. porn with plot. bathroom sex. slight angst? dom! in ho. oral sex (f!receiving.) praise kink. slight age difference. blood. violence.

GENRE. smut, fluff? (kinda), angst (kinda?.)

SUMMARY. ᝰ.ᐟ chaos erupted after the tight vote between x & o’s, resulting in a bloodbath within mens bathrooms which left five people dead and fondly, you couldnt handle the way the deaths of innocent people racked up just so willingly, leaving you in a helpless and terrified state as the night began to fall. until in-ho spotted by your side in the hell that broke out between the two sides, calmed your panic and took you to safety… a lustful safety.

(THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING THIS KINDA SHIT SO IF ITS AWFUL IM SO SORRY CHAT.. ALSO IGNORE ANY GRAMMAR OR SPELLING MISTAKES!!!! other than that, enjoy.)

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hell. thats what siting in that room felt like for you, mentally praying for the gods above to come and swoop you of your feet and into warmth. and yet no matter how hard you could’ve prayed in that moment, nothing could cure the way your stomach churned and twisted in a million directions all at once as your eyes pinned to the left side of the room where the o’s glared right in your direction, if looks could kill, you would have died the second the boys left the restroom a few minutes ago. some of them covered in blood, eyes dead and predator like while the rest had the look of a frightened child, lost and alone.

everybody knew what was going to happen the second those lights switched off. death lingered and suffocated the air you breathed in, yet far worse was to come, like a storm waiting to crush upon a village.

your back rested upon the wall, watching from afar as your nails dug into the skin of your arms you clutched so tightly to your chest that your knuckles turned white. your mind raced, heart rattling against your chest and sweat began to bead at your forehead as you tried to swallow the dry lump that never seemed to leave your throat. you were going to die in this shit hole, and there was no gods above that could stop that from happening.

the lights flickered off, leaving only the red and blue lights to illuminate the hall of bunkbeds which some still chose to lay in even despite knowing what rampage was bound to happen in just a few seconds. in the darkness of the room you still spotted the sight of in-ho, who’s dark eyes met and softened at yours almost immediately and you refused to look away. he could practically smell the fear radiating of your body from across the small area your group had chosen to stay within, gi-hun sat at his side tightly along with the rest of the group who you found to be the only source of comfort in this hell.

and yet despite the comfort they provided you still sat isolated in the corner at the brink of a panic attack. breathing felt like diffusing a bomb, one hand clutched your chest, trying to relax yourself as your other rubbed your own leg comfortingly. knowing your death was a blink away sent you into a psychotic spiral at the thought that your last breath would be in this room. in this place. in this very moment.

a blood curdling scream erupted around the room, snapping your head up to see the group of o’s charging right into your boundary, screaming and yelling as they pounced onto anyone they could get their hands on.

the lights flickered as the room flipped into a war in the space of a few seconds, sounds of yelling and harsh slashing echoed around. clutching your ears, you rocked back and forward as a loud sob broke up through your throat. “fuck!” you cried into the thick material of your tracksuit, arms covering your head in attempt to blur out the haunting screams that seemed never ending.

“found you, mother fucker!” a voice bellowed toward you, lifting up your glossy ears to stare at player 124 charge at you, face bloodied and covered in a psychopathic grin while in his left palm clutched a shard of glass that dripped crimson blood from the tip. it was no surprise you’d be his circled on his target list due to the fact during the last game, mingle, you shoved his sorry ass out of the room him and his purple headed friend fought so hardly for, which almost costed their lives. now here he is, about to take yours with the same intent you had in that one second during the game.

“i swear im going to fucking slit you in half, bitch.” his words slurred as you stumbled to your feet, not daring to break eye contact while you bit down on your bottom lip that trembled violently.

“fuck you.” you spat, yet your words wobbled along with your legs despite how hard you tried to look ‘tough,’ your eyes still glistened under the flickering lights with tears. nam-gyu howled in laughter, twisting the sharp end of the glass in his hand before his face turned straight in a second. the two seconds he stared felt like an eternity before he charged at you.

yelling, you caught his arm that held the blade pointed at your heart and using your knee you jerked it up to hit in between his legs which forced him to fold over just in time for you to kick him over onto his back. the shard of glass rolled over to the side of his head and in and instant you charged to grab it with shaky legs, only for him to be quicker and yanked at your ankle, shoving you down to the floor.

a slight whimper left your lips tasting the irony taste along your gums due to the impact of you hitting the ground chin first, and before you knew it, nam-gyu had wrestled his way on top of you, using one hand to pin your wrist above your head while the other snatched the shard inches away from your finger tips.

“mm, you’re a good little fighter, huh?” his lips lingered close to your ear while he trailed the sharp end over your face, only grazing your skin slightly. you flinched against his touch, kicking your legs frantically and screaming for help, feeling the tears burn at your eyes. you were fucked, and there was no doubt about it.

feeling your heart thump against your tightened chest, your mind clouded with defeat and you became limp underneath his strength, tossing your head to the side to glance over at the chaos that spread and diseased everyone around you, blood splattered on nearly every wall you looked at while several bodies laid limp , choking on their own blood.

“fucking die, you bitch!” the dark haired man yelled, raising the shard of glass in the air with a smile that sent painful shivers down your spine. and just as you wrenched your eyes shut, the impact of the blade never came. instead, you felt something wet drip down onto your face, pulling one eye open to see a metal poll struck through nam-gyus’s heart before he fell limp ontop of you, his blood seeping and staining your shirt.

opening your mouth to scream, a hand came over to stop any noise from coming out while another shoved the lifeless body of your chest. in-ho stared down at you, blood splattered along his face while his eyes softened at the scene of your shaken face.

“ive got you, ive got you come on.” despite the desperation in his voice his words were none the less slightly comforting despite the chaos around you as he pulled you up from your back where his hand tightening on your wrist and yanked you forward without another word.

you had no time to comprehend what even just happened in that short space of time but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered drastically at the way his fingers interlinked within yours as he charged around the bloodbath. his only priority in this devastating scene was to protect you. only you. he couldn’t give less of a shit about the stack of bodies that were growing at his hands as they ran but instead he looked back every second to see if you where still chasing behind.

his warm hand came onto your lower back and pulled you forward through the door that was questionably opened immediately the second the square masked guard caught a glance of in-ho and it made your stomach sink in confusion at how willingly they were to let him through with just a glance. yet your curiosity was died down as in-ho shoved the bathroom door open with his elbow while his other kept firmly on your waist.

your eyes hurt from the bright light on the bathroom, baby pink walls almost blinding you as you adjusted to the sudden change in atmosphere. quiet. silence. and still your heart never slowed down for a second.

“are you hurt? did that bastard hit you?” in-ho cupped either side of your head in his head, tilting your chin from side to side as his eyes glistened with a hint of panic. taking in the scene, you noticed the way his hair was messed up compared to his usual style, his eyebrows knotted into a frown while he examined the features along your face. softly, his finger lingered over a small cut under your eye from where nam-gyu nipped at your skin and you took in the way his jaw clenched just at the sight of blood from your pretty face.

a groan rumbled in his throat, yet he quickly swallowed down his anger to return his soft eyed gaze back onto you. for a split second his eyes glanced down at your lips before returning back to your face. “poor girl.” he coed, it was like his tone was glazed with honey, sweet and sickening as his hand rubbed against your hair.

you can’t deny the warmth that grew in your lower abandonment, and hell did it twist with guilt at the same time knowing lives were being took the very same second your here in the arms of the man who had caught your wondering eyes the second you saw him. still, it felt fucking euphoric to be beneath his finger tips.

perhaps he read your mind because instead of taking his hand away it came to the back of your neck and yanked you against his lips which you were caught staring at the whole time apparently and you tasted the desperation along his soft lips.

his mouth moved harshly against yours, his tongue arching his way into your mouth and finding the warmth of yours while his other hand came to squeeze at bare skin of your waist which made your heart flutter at feeling his cold fingers against the softness of your skin. the world felt like it was spinning beneath your feet, yanking at his dark hair while your tongues battled for dominance.

“you have no idea how badly ive wanted this.” he whispered against your lips and it sent shivers to the bottom of your spine along side the way slick began to form between your legs as he backed you up against the wall.

tilting your head back you let him gain access to your neck and he wasted no time to sink his teeth into the plush feeling of your skin, tasting and licking along the pulse point on your throat which quickened at the warmth of his tongue exploring you. leaving bruises, in-ho stepped back for a moment to admire his claiming all over your skin while you stood breathless under his predatory eyes.

“take off your clothes.” he growled, returning back to the warmth of your neck before you could even respond to which he squeezed the skin of your waist. “don’t make me ask again.”

gulping, you nodded almost a little to quickly and you stumbled to pull down and kick off the material of your trousers that bunched at your ankles to where in-ho’s fingers pressed to your clothed cunt almost immediately.

“all this for me?” he chuckled against your skin, running a long digit along the wet patch on your panties. “fuck, you’re so good for me..” his voice made you clench your thighs around his hand to where he tugged at the thin cloth and ripping it off your body.

gasping, you slump against the wall he backed you up against, making you shiver at the cold material against your bare thighs and ass. “m-maybe we should do this-“ you began to mumble against his grip yet a sharp moan left your lips when a cold finger came to rub against your aching clit.

slowly, the man sunk to his knees in front of you, not once breaking eye contact as he lowered down your body, leaving a trail of kisses behind. taking your hand into his hair, your chest heaved with anticipation while his dark eyes took in the way your mouth draped open at his slow kisses, tossing your head back against the cold tiles as he gently nipped at the silk skin of your upper thighs.

“please in-ho..” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear, your voice croaking with desperation to feel his mouth against you dripping cunt.

“what do you want me to do, baby? use your words for me.” he kept one hand on your hip, using his other to run along the wet slither of your clit that burned for his tongue.

“fuck me!” you cried out, pulling at his dark locks. “fuck me with your tongue!”

“yes ma’am.” you felt him smile against your cunt before he licked a long strip of your wetness from its surface, tasting the sweetness of your slick against his tongue. your body felt like it was on fire with the way his mouth worked its magic on your pussy.

feeling him hum in satisfaction against your cunt sent thousands off sparks up into the pit of your stomach while you moaned out, gripping onto his hair while still pushing his head down further into your pussy while your orgasm began bloom. for a moment he turned his head up to stare at you, lips glossy and puffy from your wetness while he looked at you with a stare that you swore could swallow you whole. and fuck, did it feel like everything around you was twirling on a carousel.

stars started to form in the corners of your eyes while one leg rested over his shoulder, giving him better access you suck you dry, tongue poking into your tight hole which you swear could cum at the way his tongue worked so beautifully up and down your pussy to the point it had its own heartbeat. your mind fogged to the point of realisation as it flashed back to the scene of the guards when they allowed you both to leave the death trap so quickly with just the nod of approval from in-ho. why would they do that? what validation of protection does this man have that nobody else does?

“h-hey.. in-ho?” you managed you gasp out over your wave of moans in which he hummed against your pussy, forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “how did t-those guards just..” he thrusted his tongue so far up into your hole before you could even finish your sentence and you swore you felt you knees buck against his face at the movement, crying out a painful whimper.

his hand dug into the plush flesh of your ass as you grinded your pussy deeper into his face, pulling on his hair the same way his tongue pulled at the strings attached to your heart. riding out your orgasm, you felt your thighs clench around his pretty face that buried in between your legs as you sobbed so loud the entirety of the security guards could probably hear the joyful cries you let out.

with wobbly knees and a head filled with fairies you wrenched your eyes closed, feeling yourself let loose and finally reach the climax of your orgasm as you clenched around his tongue, your cum laced and coated his mouth.

“holy shit..” you panted harshly, chest dropping and rising at rapid speed while in-ho’s face pulled away slowly from your pussy, his glossy lips twisting into a grin before he brought his thumb to the corner of his mouth, licking away any residue you left on his face.

“you taste sweeter than i thought, baby.” his beautiful dark eyes took the view of you in awe, admiring the way your forehead beaded with sweat, eyebrows knotted in satisfaction as you ran your fingers through his hair.

slowly he rose to his feet, taking his finger he sucked out of his mouth with a small pop before tucking a loose strand of your messy hair behind your ear, smiling that sweet smile you remembered and adore all too well.

and just as quickly as he came to scroop you away, he left just as slick without a word, adjusting his shirt on the way out and leaving you alone in the bathroom, trousers bunched at your ankles.

“what the fuck just happened.”

[gojosconsort]

VIRGIN!SATORU // college au

⁀➷ content. satoru’s a nervous wreck, barely holding it together as his long-time crush—you—steps into his room. one touch, one smile, and he’s done for, desperate and clumsy, trying to fuck you right.

pairing. afab!reader x virgin!satoru (college au)

warnings. mdni. virginity loss (satoru), unprotected sex, breeding, lots of cum and satoru has a big dick. this is nasty but i regret nothing.

word count. 1,900

satoru’s losing his goddamn mind in his dorm, pacing like a caged animal, white hair a mess from running his hands through it a million times. his glasses are fogged up—fuckin’ nerves—and he wipes them on his shirt, only smearing the lenses more.

you’re coming over. you.

his crush since forever—smart as hell, gorgeous, so far outta his league it’s laughable—and he’s about to have you in his space. his dick’s already half-hard just thinking about it, and he hasn’t even seen you yet. he glances at the clock—five minutes late. is that bad? good? fuck, he’s spiraling.

a knock. his heart stops, then hammers. he stumbles to the door, nearly tripping over a pile of manga, and swings it open. there you are, smiling, “hey, satoru,” all casual in a tight-ass shirt that hugs your tits and shorts riding up your thighs, showing off those legs he’s jerked off thinking about too many times.

“uh, hey—come in,” he stammers, voice cracking like a dumbass, pushing his foggy glasses up his nose. you step inside, scanning the chaos—textbooks stacked on the desk, comics spilling off shelves, empty ramen cup. “you ever leave this cave?” you tease, flopping onto his bed, legs crossed, shorts riding higher.

he laughs, shaky as fuck, “not much,” and rubs the back of his neck, blue eyes glued to you. he’s trying not to stare, but shit, it’s impossible—your shirt’s clinging just right, and he’s imagining peeling it off. his dick twitches again, and he shifts, praying you don’t notice.

you pat the bed next to you, “sit,” voice light but commanding, and he freezes for a split second before obeying, stiff as a board. his thigh brushes yours—soft, warm, fuck—heat shooting straight to his groin. “you okay?” you ask, tilting your head, and he nods too fast, “y-yeah, just—uh—nervous.”

“why?” you lean in, close enough that your breath grazes his neck, and he’s done for—dick fully hard now, straining against his sweats. no hiding that. “’cause—fuck—you’re you,” he blurts, cheeks flaming, “been wanting this forever, and now you’re here, and i’m—shit, i don’t know what i’m doing.” his voice cracks again, and he wants to die, but you just laugh, soft and warm.

“you’re cute when you’re freaking out,” you say, and his brain short-circuits. cute? cute? he’s about to fucking die. then you shift closer, knee brushing his, and his hands twitch, itching to touch you. “so, what’s ‘this’ you’ve been wanting?” you murmur, teasing, and he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing.

“you—fuck—just you, all of you,” he admits, raw and desperate, and your lips twitch up. “then do something about it,” you whisper and that’s it—game fuckin’ over. something snaps in him, and he grabs you, clumsy as hell, hands shaking as he pulls you onto his lap. you straddle him, thighs clamping around his hips, and he groans, feeling your heat through those tiny shorts.

he crashes his mouth into yours, sloppy, needy. lips mash, teeth clash, and he’s kissing you hard, like he’s starving for it. his glasses slip down, digging into his nose, but he doesn’t care, too lost in how you taste—sweet, hot, fuckin’ addictive. “sorry—shit—too much?” he pants, pulling back, spit stringing between your lips, but you shake your head. “keep going,” you breathe and he dives back in, tongue shoving into your mouth.

he’s groaning into you, hands fumbling up your shirt, brushing bare skin—soft, warm, fuck—and his cock throbs under you, aching to feel more. “you’re so—goddamn perfect,” he mumbles against your lips, voice thick, and he’s already a wreck, virgin nerves and all, but he’s not stopping now.

poor boy's a fucking wreck, heart slamming in his chest as you sit on his lap, your thighs squeezing his hips, and he’s trying not to lose it before anything even starts. his hands tremble, sliding under your tight shirt, fumbling like he’s forgotten how fingers work, and then he finds them—your tits, soft and warm and perfect.

“fuck.” he cups them, thumbs brushing your nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. “you’re amazing—shit, these are amazing,” he mumbles, squeezing gently, obsessed with how they fill his hands just right, like they were made for him. he’s dreamed about this—your tits, your body, you—and now it’s real, and his dick’s throbbing so hard in his sweats he’s scared he’ll fuckin’ cum right there.

you smirk, peeling your shirt off in one smooth move, tossing it aside, then shimmy out of those tiny shorts, leaving you bare. he’s staring—staring—mouth half-open, glasses slipping down his nose as he takes you in. your tits sit pretty, full and round, nipples begging to be touched, and your curves—fuck, your hips, your waist—drive him insane.

“you’re so goddamn pretty,” he chokes out, voice raw, hands hovering like he’s scared he’ll ruin you if he moves too fast. he’s dying to touch, but he’s frozen, like you’re some untouchable goddess.

“your turn,” you say, tugging at his shirt, and he snaps out of it, fumbling like an idiot—arms tangling in the sleeves, glasses nearly tumbling off his face. he yanks it over his head, revealing pale skin stretched over lean muscle, a faint trail of white hair disappearing into his sweats.

you hook your fingers in the waistband and pull ‘em down, slow, teasing, and—fuck—his cock springs free, long and thick, tip flushed red and leaking pre-cum, twitching just from your eyes on it. “satoru—you’re huge,” you mutter, half in awe, and his cheeks go scarlet. “i—uh—hope that’s okay?” he mumbles, scratching his neck. “more than okay,” you say, pushing him back onto the bed.

he flops down, propped on his elbows, staring as you climb over him, straddling his hips. your pussy brushes his cock—wet, hot, slick—and he jolts, a low “fuck” slipping out, hands flying to your hips, shaking like he’s about to explode. but then his eyes lock on your tits again, bouncing slightly as you settle, and he’s mesmerized.

“can i—shit—can i touch ‘em more?” he asks and you nod, leaning forward so they’re right in his face. he groans, loud, cupping them again, thumbs circling your nipples, and then he’s leaning up, pressing his lips to one. “so fucking perfect,” he mutters against your skin, kissing your tit soft at first, then harder, sucking the nipple into his mouth. his tongue flicks over it, sloppy and eager, and you moan, threading your fingers through his messy hair.

he’s obsessed—squeezing one while he sucks the other, lips smacking, spit shining on your skin. “been dreaming about these,” he pants, pulling back to watch them jiggle as he kneads them, “so soft, so—fuck—perfect for me.” he dives back in, biting gently, then licking like he’s starving, and your pussy clenches, dripping onto his cock below.

“satoru—c’mon,” you murmur, grinding against him, and he snaps out of his tit-trance, eyes flicking up. “wait—fuck—i’ve never—” he stammers, hands tightening on your hips, trembling harder, “don’t wanna mess up.” you lean down, kissing him deep, tongue sliding against his. “you won’t,” you whisper, pulling back to line him up, your pussy hovering over his tip.

you sink down slow—so slow—his fat head stretching you, burning in the best way, and he gasps, loud and ragged, “oh—shit—you’re tight.” his hands slide to your ass, gripping hard as you take him deeper, inch by inch, walls fluttering around his length. he’s whining now, high-pitched and wrecked, head thrown back, glasses fogging up again.

“fuck—fuck—you feel so good,” he babbles, hips twitching like he’s fighting not to thrust up. your tits bounce as you settle, fully seated, and he’s staring again, moaning, “god—you’re—fuckin’ perfect.” you start moving, up and down, slow at first, letting him feel every slick drag, and he’s a mess—panting, groaning, “you’re gonna kill me—look at you.”

“satoru,” you moan, voice shaky, and he loses it, hips bucking up—clumsy but hard—slamming deep, making you gasp. “sorry—shit—did i—” he starts, panicked, but you grind down harder, cutting him off. “no—do it again,” you beg, and he does, thrusting up with no rhythm, just need, hitting that spot inside you over and over.

your tits bounce wild, and he’s transfixed, hands roaming from your ass to your chest, squeezing again, muttering, “love these—fuckin’ love ‘em,” before pulling one back to his mouth, sucking hard as he fucks into you. “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he babbles, sweat beading on his forehead, glasses slipping down his nose.

he’s nervous as hell, blue eyes darting over your body like he can’t believe you’re real, but he’s already buried inside you, and fuck—his cock’s massive. long, thick, a fat fucking cock stretching your pussy so wide it burns, veins pulsing against your walls, tip kissing deep spots you didn’t know you had. “always wanted you—fuck—dreamed of this,” he groans, hips twitching like he’s barely holding it together.

your thighs tremble from the stretch, feeling every inch of that huge dick splitting you open, tip bullying your cervix with every move. he’s clumsy, thrusts stuttering, but damn, he’s good—hitting right where you need it every fucking time, like he’s got some sixth sense for your body. “satoru—oh god,” you whimper, head tipping back, and he moans, loud, “love hearing you—say it again.”

he grabs your hips, fingers digging in, and thrusts up harder, desperate, like he’s tryna prove he’s worth it. that fat cock slams deep, stretching you ‘til you’re gasping, pussy fluttering around him, and he’s staring, sweat dripping down his pale chest.

“shit—look at you,” he pants, hands sliding up to your tits again, squeezing ‘em rough, thumbs flicking your nipples. “so fuckin’ perfect—been jerking off thinking about this forever.” your nails dig into his shoulders, heat coiling fast in your gut, and he’s watching you, eyes blown wide. “you gonna cum? please cum—wanna see it,” he begs, thrusting up harder, fat cock filling you so full.

“yeah—close—fuck,” you nod, breathless, and he groans, “so damn hot,” grabbing your hips tighter, slamming up—hard, deep and you lose it, cumming hard, pussy clamping down on him. “satoru—shit—” you gasp, shaking, walls pulsing around his massive dick, and he moans, “oh fuck—fuck—you’re perfect.” he feels you milking him, slick dripping down his balls, and his thrusts get messier.

“gonna—shit—gonna cum,” he whines, voice high and frantic, and you pant, “inside,” ‘cause fuck, you want it—you want him. his eyes widen, “you sure?—fuck—you’re too good,” and he’s losing it, hands trembling on your hips. one thrust, two—then he slams up hard, burying that fat cock balls-deep, and he’s gone.

“oh—shit—cumming,” he gasps, and it’s a fucking flood—hot, thick cum pumping into you, so much it’s spilling out around his shaft, coating your thighs, dripping onto the sheets. he’s groaning, unloading more than you thought possible, his dick pulsing with every spurt.

“fuck—there’s so much,” he mutters, dazed, watching it leak out, and he doesn’t stop—grinds up slow, pushing his cum deeper, obsessed with it. “gonna fuck it in you—shit—keep it all inside,” he says, thrusting again, sloppy and weak, like he can’t let a drop go to waste.

you’re trembling, overstuffed, feeling how heavy he is, how that fat cock sits inside you, still leaking, and he’s babbling, “you’re mine—fuck—so pretty like this.” his hands slide up, cupping your face, pulling you down into a kiss—soft, sloppy, spit-slick—gentle now.

he’s panting hard, glasses crooked, blue eyes soft but still hungry. “was that—uh—okay?” he mumbles, nervous again, like he didn’t just fuck you senseless. you laugh, breathless, “way okay—satoru, you’re good.” he smiles, shy but proud, “really? ‘cause—fuck, you’re everything,” and pulls you close, chest to chest, still hard inside you, his cock twitching like he’s ready for round two. “wanna keep going—can’t stop now,” he whispers, kissing your neck, loving you too much to let go.

[miaoua3]

Big Dick! Scoups Headcanons

saw this tt and something 👀 caught my eye and ever since I haven’t been able to stop thinking about big dick cheol

big dick! cheol who is always manspreading due to his sheer size. can’t never keep his legs closed as it just feels a bit uncomfortable

big dick! cheol who got you excited when you two were still relatively new to this relationship by making you sit on his lap and grind on him as you two were making out, his bulge that is noticeable even when soft growing twice in size under you

big dick! cheol who was hesitant to let you suck him off but due to your insistence let you do it. kneeling prettily in front of him, he leaned back against the couch, confidence and excitement radiating from him. in a confident voice he said “take my pants off.”

big dick! cheol who had your jaw dropping once his pretty and big dick sprung out of the boxers. thick and angrily red due to arousal, his dick stood proudly, so very thick and big it had you doubting if he could fit it all inside of you, never mind fitting in your mouth

big dick! cheol who was so thick, your hand couldn’t fully wrap itself around it, your mouth struggling to swallow the rest of him. your mouth was so full with his tip only

big dick! cheol who has you cum on his fingers and tongue at least 3 times before he pushes his dick inside of your tight little pussy. he wanted you relaxed and prepped for him, and he would rather die than hurt you because of his monstrous cock

big dick! cheol who groans so deeply once he bottoms out, leaning his forehead against yours, praying he doesn’t cum that very second. you, on the other hand, were a gasping mess, feeling so full with his dick finally inside of you, reaching so so very deep inside of you. so thick your walls were struggling around his thickness, squeezing and milking him

big dick! cheol who despite his arousal stops every now and then to check if everything is still alright, if he isn’t hurting you, if you need a break

big dick! cheol who eventually relaxes and starts full on hammering into you, his head repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, his thickness scraping against the walls of your insides so very deliciously it has you cumming in mere minutes

big dick! cheol who is one cocky motherfucker and who know just how big he is❤️

FINALLY FINISHED WITH ALL MY EXAM NOW ITS TIME TO FEED YOU ALL ENJOY MY FELLOW ADVENTURERS

[take-it-on-the-run]

No Safety or Surprise

Wally Clark x Reader

Following a double death at Split River High, two souls acclimate with their new reality and the fellow ghosts that inhabit the school's grounds.

Word Count: 3k

Tags: Aftermath of sexual assault, no flashbacks to SA, mention of SA, reader's death is overlooked but Wally's isn't, angst, comfort

Characters: Wally Clark, Reader, Dalton (OC, mentioned), Mr. Martin, Rhonda (brief), Janet (brief), Jasmine (OC, brief), William (OC, brief), David (OC, brief)

Read it on AO3!

Taglist: @xocellyy, @maggiecc, @pancake-flipper, @littlestxli, @trinitybaby6666, @somethingsomethingcranberries, @sst4r-ddu5t, @ghostlyaccurate, @urbimom

Want to join (or leave) the taglist? Click here!

A/N: The Doors title. Sequel to 'The End', which has gotten so much love that I don't even know what to say! Super thank you to everyone who wanted to be tagged, ya'll might make me cry. Thank you for clicking/reading my story, and I hope that you enjoy this one! This is my first time writing a sequel to a story, as I'm more partial to one-shots writing-wise. Unbeta'd, please heed the tags, and enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2

Wally Clark Masterlist | School Spirits Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

You left Wally without saying a word, climbing to the top of the bleachers and curling in on yourself. You wanted to spit in his face and tell him that Dalton wasn’t the perfect teammate, average-grade goofball he played himself to be, that he had taken your life, soul, and body in one fell swoop. Instead, you left him more confused than before, still clutching at the stolen jacket draped on your shoulders.

Your non-beating heart ached for the first time since you found yourself on the locker room floor. For every second you spent with your legs up to your chest, heaving, a deeper hole was burying its way through your chest.

Your death went twenty-three minutes unnoticed, and when you were finally found, it was only because the football team was told to change after the game stopped.

You didn’t know how long you were up on the bleachers, finally praying for the first time in your life before someone approached you. You assumed it was Wally, hoping that he had finally realized what had happened to you, but you turned your head to see an older man dressed in a tweed jacket and glasses walking up to you.

“Y/N?” the stranger asked, sitting a level below you to meet you at eye level, “is that your name?”

He was skinnier than most teachers you knew, and his suit outdid anything they would be wearing.

He’s dead too.

Nodding your head, you brought yourself to sit on the bleacher level above him, scooting down to make distance between him and you. He didn’t move, instead placing his hands in his lap and sighing gently.

“My name is Mr. Martin. As I assume you’re already aware, you’ve passed away.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.

“I’ve been a local of Split River since the 50’s, and-”

“Are you some kind of grim reaper or something? You finally get off your ass to bring me to whatever’s supposed to happen after I die?” You interrupted harshly, glaring at your reflection in his square glasses. His slight trans-atlantic accent in his voice ticked you off on top of how you already felt.

“-Unfortunately, I’m not here to take you to the great hereafter,” he said, his voice a touch softer, “I am, however, here to offer you support if you are willing to take it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked.

“I know what happened to you, Y/N.” He said matter-of-factly, adjusting the way he was sitting as if he was uncomfortable with the statement he’d made.

Chills crept up your spine. “What?”

“I was there when the paramedics brought your body out from the locker room,” he rubbed above his lip tensely, “I’m here to let you know that there are others here that can help you get through this, a support group for the ghosts of Split River High.”

Scoffing, you move to get up and away from him and his proposal of an afterlife anonymous meeting. He didn’t follow you, instead raising his voice so you were able to hear him.

“If you change your mind, we meet in the gym every afternoon. Nothing formal, but it seems to have helped others in similar situations to yours.”

People speculated if you and Wally’s deaths were connected in some way- a jealous ex that found out the two of you had been together, a suicide pact; someone even started to say you poisoned him and then yourself because you were hopelessly in love with him.

No matter what people said, somehow, the blame always landed on you and never Wally.

It took three days for you to work up the courage to go back inside the school. Every time you approached a door, your feet wouldn’t move. When you finally got the courage to go inside, it was because the rain pouring outside pelted against the metal of the bleachers, and the sound was going to deafen you if you heard it any longer. It didn’t register that you were in the building until you saw the back of a familiar football player, no longer wearing the gear he died in.

“Wally?” You called out to him, making him spin around to face you.

The air of confusion he’d carried the night you two died was gone, instead replaced by a brightened smile and somewhat brighter eyes.

“Y/N, hey,” he walked towards you, mirroring posters plastered to the wall mourning him, “I was worried you weren’t going to come in any time soon.”

You knit your eyebrows, shifting at his open display of friendliness after not talking to you for the twelve years you were in school together. You knew of him— it was impossible not to, and the two of you had been in a few classes as you’d grown up.

He stood before you, hands tucked in his pocket, as you turned to look at the posters on the wall.

Rest in Peace - Wally Clark.

Son, student, friend to all.

Memorial - September 31st, 4:30 PM, Gym

Poster after poster, taped to every few lockers and pinned twice or three times to every corkboard. His graduation picture lined the halls and mocked you every step of the way. Wally’s death rocked the school like a thunderclap, and any whispers of your tragedy were drowned out by an outpouring of grief for the star athlete.

No memorial. No justice. Not for you.

Hundreds of posters, his locker transformed into a shrine, and there were even some candles lit despite the fire code of the school. All the while, your locker remained untouched—just another metal door collecting dust.

A hand gently touched your shoulder, causing you to spin on your heel and jerk your attention to Wally once more.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, taking a step back, his hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

The phantom beating of your heart thudded dully in response. You hadn’t been touched in days, not since your body was hauled out of the locker room like a broken piece of equipment.

“What do you want, Wally?” you asked, sharper than you intended. His brow furrowed, but his smile didn’t waver.

“I wanted to check on you,” he said simply. “Mr. Martin said he talked to you, but you didn’t come to the gym. Thought I’d see if you were okay.”

You let out a harsh laugh, glancing back at the posters. “Do I look okay? I’m dead, Wally. Just like you.”

And yet, it seems no one gives a shit that I died.

He tilted his head, studying you like you were an unsolved puzzle. “Yeah, but… you don’t have to do this alone.”

“And you’re suddenly the expert on post-death coping mechanisms?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Why do you care anyway? You didn’t even know me.”

Wally flinched, his smile faltering for the first time. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly. “We were in different worlds, yeah, but I knew who you were— who you are. And I know what the living are saying about us. None of it’s true.”

“Which part? The suicide pact? Or the one where I poisoned you because I was obsessed with you?” You spat the words like venom, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“The part where they act like you’re the villain,” he said, his voice steady. “Like you’re not worth mourning.”

That stopped you cold. You stared at him, waiting for the sarcasm, for the punchline. But his eyes held nothing but sincerity, and it made your stomach twist.

“You don’t owe me anything, Y/N,” he continued, stepping closer. “But I’ve been to that group a few times. It’s weird, and Mr. Martin talks like he’s out of some old self-help movie, but it’s… not awful. And it’s better than being alone.”

You wanted to snap at him, to tell him to back off, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you swallowed hard and looked away, your eyes falling to the scuffed floor.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and unyielding. Wally shifted, the rubber soles of his sneakers squeaking faintly against the floor. His patience grated on you, not because it annoyed you, but because it chipped away at the courage you’d been building up for the past two weeks.

“What’s the point, Wally?” you muttered, your voice cracking. “What’s the point of sitting in a room with other dead people, pretending like it makes any of this better?”

He exhaled sharply, almost like he’d been holding his breath. “It doesn’t fix anything,” he admitted. “But it’s not about fixing it. It’s about… not letting it bury you. We don’t have to be forgotten, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened at his words. The posters, the memorial, the tears shed for Wally Clark—they felt like they came from a different world. A world where your name didn’t matter, where your death was just a footnote. But his voice, steady and sure, pierced through the bitterness threatening to consume you.

“Fine,” you whispered, the word barely audible. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, the bright sincerity in his eyes almost painful. “I’ll go. Once. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Wally’s grin returned, slow and genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”

The gym was plain, almost too small for the group of souls that had gathered. Mr. Martin, with his stiff posture and small accent, sat in the corner, his hands folded neatly in his lap. The group was sparse, and each person’s presence piled more and more nerves as you swept your gaze over them.

You felt the tug of skepticism as you sat in an empty chair. The group didn’t move to acknowledge you, a few eyes lifting from their spots, but no one spoke. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the lack of judgment felt almost alien.

Wally had sat next to you without a word, his presence oddly comforting as he simply offered a silent companionship. His clothes matched yours, save for his jacket, which you still had yet to remove. Some of the ghosts looked your way, but one’s gaze lingered between the two of you. She sat next to Mr. Martin, dressed in a short, colorful, and rectangular dress similar to things your older cousins would wear to events.

Mr. Martin cleared his throat gently, breaking the silence.

“Hello, everyone. I want to again thank you if you’re a returning member and welcome you,” he shot his eyes at you, “if you’re a new member. Since there are newer faces here, why don’t we go around the circle and just say our names.” He smiled, something uncanny lingering on his mouth as he turned to the girl staring between you and Wally.

“I’m Janet.” She said simply. Her voice was soft and concise, crossing her legs as the rest of the ghosts in the group introduced themselves.

“Hi, David,” said a man dressed in construction clothes, who was noticeably older than others in the group.

A boy not much younger than you piped up, a tie peaking past a Letterman jacket he was wearing, “I’m William.”

“Rhonda,” said one girl dressed like your estranged beatnik aunt, who had a seemingly never-ending supply of blow pops.

“And I’m Jasmine.”

The group wraparound had landed on you. You looked between everyone, searching out the chance they’d just let you past the introductions. Rhonda shot you a look of Come on, we’re waiting, and your lips were moving.

“I’m Y/N.” You hated how much your voice shook after you died, but the calm washing over you as Wally prepared his introduction was enough to make you forget it.

“I’m Wally.” He said, the sound of his golden smile ever-present in his words.

“Well, since we have a newbie,” Mr. Martin began, his voice soft but carrying pressure that you found hard to ignore, “Y/N, why don’t you start by telling us what brought you here today?”

All eyes turned to you, and the overwhelming need to jump from a top-story window returned a shock to your senses. The group waited once more for you to speak, some members exchanging glances that you’d catch in social settings when you were alive. Before you knew it, your lips were parting again and spurting words you were regretting the second you said them.

“I didn’t want to be here,” you started, your voice unsteady but not cracking. “I didn’t want to be dead, either. But what does it matter? It’s not like anyone cares about why I’m gone. They’re all too busy mourning him.”

You slung a hand towards Wally, not looking up, unable to see the faces in the room as you continued. “Wally gets all the posters, all the memorials. He was the star. The one everyone is giving a damn about. And I— I don’t even get a proper goodbye.”

Wally shifted beside you, but you didn’t want to hear him. You leaned your elbows on your knees and played with your fingers as you let the silence around you linger. You didn’t want to hear the words he or any of the other ghosts were going to say, and yet you prayed for the silence to end with something.

Mr. Martin, for once, didn’t jump in. Everyone around you was dead silent— pun not intended— and before you knew it, you were moving out of the gym and to a bench in the hall outside, tucking your knees under your chin.

You had no idea how long you sat there, your legs curled up underneath you, eyes fixed on the dirty hallway doors. Your chest felt hollow, and the anger had boiled down into exhaustion so deep you didn’t know if you could ever feel whole again.

The silence in the gym had crushed you. It wasn’t the kind of silence that made you feel at peace; it was the kind that forced you to confront all the things you hated about yourself, about how little people turned their heads at your murder. You’d never felt more alone, even when you were alive with your family as your only friends. Here, stuck behind glass to witness the aftermath of your death, you couldn’t do anything but watch as you were forgotten to time.

But you weren’t truly alone for long.

Wally’s presence, soft but steady, came through the gym doors, and you didn’t need to look up to know it was him. You felt his gaze on you before you saw it. His footsteps came slowly, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach you this time.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice unsure, though his usual easygoing nature had managed to bleed through.

You didn’t answer at first. The weight of everything was still crushing you.

You didn’t know what to say to him. All of it—every question, every unspoken feeling—was stuck in your throat.

“I just…” you began, the words coming out in a rush, “I don’t get it, Wally. How come it’s all about you? We both died, and yet there aren’t any memorials held in my honor or any remembrance of me being alive in the first place.”

Wally sat beside you, quiet for a moment. He didn’t touch you, didn’t speak right away. But you could tell he was thinking, his mind racing for something to say that wouldn’t make everything worse.

“Dalton surely isn’t going to forget you, I’m sure he’s already planning something in your honor— something, something better.”

Your resolve cracked suddenly, shattering in one fell move as you bowed your head and cried for the umpteenth time. Wally was silent but tried to offer a comforting hand on your back that you scooted away from instantly.

His presence was steady, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. You didn’t look up to see if he needed confirmation as to what your body was telling him.

“He… he was a monster. They’re letting him get away with it, I know they are, and it’s like no one cared that I was left for dead. People didn’t call me an ambulance or even see my body when it was still warm. Heleft me to rot in that locker room, and now he’s just strutting around like he’s lost something great, and I’m-” you hiccupped as you smeared tears away from your eyes, “I’m starting to feel like I’m going crazy because no one’s going to ever believe it happened. Even when the cops check out me, I just don’t think they’ll believe he’d do that kind of thing.”

Wally remained silent as you turned to look at him, his face pale and mouth slightly agape. Part of you wanted to know what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, and the other part wanted to burst up from your seat, run through the side doors, and condemn yourself to an eternity of sitting on the bleachers.

“I believe you.”

Out of everything you thought he was going to say, that didn’t even reach your mind. You turned to him, face beating to the rhythm of your heart, probably soaked from your tears and red from your crying.

“What?” You asked.

“You’re not crazy, Y/N. If anything, I think you’re braver than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“What?” You asked again, a small smile turning the slightest curve in your lips.

Wally laughed softly, slowly raising his hand to your face and thumbing the tears off your cheeks.

“You heard me,” he brought his hand to rest against your face, and you could feel the suffocating heat starting to leave you.

“What’s bravery have to do with any of this?” You questioned, heat flooding in from where his palm remained against your cheek.

“It’s got to do with you sitting here, telling me,” he brought his other hand to lightly skim over the top of yours, “it’s got to do with you coming in and standing in these halls and bearing witness to the aftermath. I know you think the rest of the world is going to forget you, but, Y/N, I’m going to give my damnedest so you’ll never feel like that, ever again.”

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Story Idea #16:

Yandere Yandere (Fatherly) Emperor and Empress (Maternal) x Daughter! Reader:

Think about it.

I imagine that after a long line of princes, the yandere empress finally has a princess, and both parents are delighted with her, since she was the first daughter after many years of trying. Your father, the emperor, agrees that you be raised under the care of the empress (your mother).

From the moment you were born, you were never left alone for a single minute. When the Empress wasn't with you, the Emperor himself was. Your mother always made you follow her everywhere she went, as well as sharing her tastes and hobbies, since having only had princes prevented her from doing that. You had a close mother-daughter relationship, and with your father it was something more or less similar.

As you grow up, your parents become more overprotective of you, so much so that they even limit your contact with your older brothers, the princes. Not only would they give you nice gifts, but the best teachers, doctors and servants would be at your disposal (even better than those of your older brothers), although your brothers would probably be jealous of you.

They wouldn't let you walk alone for even a second.

If your father has a harem of consorts and concubines (like other emperors), then the empress will be more paranoid about you, since even though princesses do not inherit the throne, she knows that her enemies can harm you.

Once, when you were five years old, a maid broke a porcelain doll that your father had given you after returning from one of his trips. Unfortunately for that maid, the emperor was returning with you just when the doll broke, so he saw it and got SO angry that he asked his butler to take you out to the garden for a walk, so that you wouldn't see your father the emperor whip the poor maid to death. All this because he considered that maid to be reckless in daring to do that to your things, even if it had been an accident.

Even if more princesses were born, you were the object of your parents' overprotection and adoration.

Even your older brothers didn't dare to do anything bad to you. Once a new maid spoke ill of you (even though you hadn't done anything), and the empress herself slapped her in the face.

They hired servants who document your EVERY move.

The Emperor adores you so much that he will delay any kind of engagement or marriage alliance. He will reject any proposal, and silence anyone who mentions the subject. He does not want you away from him.

If it were up to them, you would stay locked in your room all the time so that nothing would hurt you, and they would tell you that they do everything for your own good.

You were punished by being locked up for an indefinite period of time, followed by the classic punishment of writing the same sentence repeatedly for a long time.

No trying to escape from the palace. The emperor would have experienced guards and servants around you to prevent that.

And if you do get married, then your parents will make sure that you have no choice but to live near the palace, no matter what.

They would be capable of killing if something happens to you.

If you fall ill, they will make sure you rest and eat well, even if it is against your will. If you were to die, they would both go mad with grief, especially the empress.

If you were to die, they would use your chambers as a sanctuary to you, where they would go to pray for you, and in the process force EVERYONE to mourn you.

Your emperor father would not let you have any contact with his family, as there is a power struggle going on where even his own brothers, cousins ​​and uncles could be his enemies and would do ANYTHING to get the throne; even if that includes kidnapping or killing you just because you are the emperor's daughter. Your mother would know this, and every time her brothers-in-law come, she will make you stay with her in the central palace.

With the Empress's family it's a different story, since there are no problems of inheritance of the throne, things are easier unless there is someone who tries to hurt you or pressure you like they do with your mother.

-The End.

What do you think?

[sheepispink]

mainly ghost but still tf141 x overstimulated/sensitive! reader SFW

i’ve been so sensitive to sound recently and it’s killing me because my family just loves to speak SO LOUDLY. im gonna die. also mind the spelling, i wrote this in 20 mins

The weeks have been dragging on too long, your throat has been endlessly dry for days and your brain is practically rattling against your skull everytime something enters your ears. Not even the cool nights in spring can ease the burn of your skin, only stinging the teeth marks in your raw lips. It’s all too much, the guilt of not doing enough weighing heavily on your eyes whilst you push your feet to move forward. One more step. Just until Friday. That’s all you’ve been saying since the new year and not once has it payed off.

How much more of this can you really take? The trampled dirt on this abandoned path has been attacking your nose for the past few minutes and the moon may as well be the sun with the way it burns your eyes. It was supposed to be an escape but the howls of the wild animals seem to tunnel directly to your ears, relentlessly digging its way through and into your brain. Covering them wont even help, not when your hair feels oily despite being washed that morning and a sticky residue still remaining on your hands despite how red they are from scrubbing the drink a rookie spilled everywhere.

And yet it’s still thursday. Still another full day of this; another twenty four hours one thousand four hundred and forty minutes, eighty six thousand and four hundred seconds more of this.

“Sergeant?”

Your brain snaps awake, every single sense disappearing as you look to the side, noticing your Lieutenant. A gun is held in his hand, a cloth in the other from his meticulous cleaning routine. Though what’s got you more confused is the hand that roughly pulls your shoulder back, making you stumble.

“Why—” You finish your own sentence as you stare at the giant puddle you were about to step right through and likely soak your entire calf. “Oh.”

“What had you thinking so hard you almost drowned?” He tugs you to walk around it and you follow, stepping into a comfortable pace that aligns with his. You’re tempted to roll your eyes though, you definitely wouldnt have drowned from a puddle.

“The usual.. y'know work and all.” He nods as you sigh, falling quiet for a moment before he begins again.

“Never took you for the distracted type.” As much as you gladly took any conversation your gruff superior rarely shared with you, you were suddenly praying he’d just shut up. He’s usually silent so why not this time?

“Oi! You think this is a joke?”

Ghost glances over at the rookie being yelled at by his officer, letting out a gruff chuckle. “Havent missed hearin’ those.” He hums lowly, turning to face you again only to be taken aback by the pained expression on your face, wincing at the loud yelling. “So that’s what it is..”

—

It’s not long before he’s got you in the task force’s common room, signalling to Soap with a finger to his lips and then a nod towards you who follows in a haze. You’re exhausted, that’s for sure, but overstimulated was definitely your main diagnosis. Soap gets the jist quickly, standing up to dim the lights a little, before walking over to the kitchen to grab you a glass of lukewarm water. Not too cold, and definitely not warm either.

You’re like putty in Ghost’s silence, letting him do whatever he pleases as long as he stays silent like that; even if it means he’s got you snuggled against the cushions, the water glass in your hand thanks to Soap. The telly is turned on, only emitting a low hum of a stupid sitcom the team’s been invested in recently. It’s calming, quiet and the blanket placed over the three of you is way too tempting for Gaz not to join in too, forcing you all into a comfortable squeeze.

Though it wouldn't be quite complete without Price settling on a nearby armchair, the faded scent of his cologne somehow wafting towards your nose. Soap’s arm rests around your back, a comfortable unmoving weight, but his shoulder is an even better pillow as your brain starts to give into the peaceful atmosphere—a gloved finger gently rubbing the back of your hand.

[sourco0kie]

Self Awareness AU - Prologue

You huffed as you placed your controller, playing this game each day has gotten boring, Especially when there’s no to little update to the game. When it does updates it’s only bugs fixes or some features getting removed.

With a disappointed sigh, you closed steam and opened google to watch youtube. You searched the general if there’s any interesting video that would catch your attention. One for your favorite youtuber catches your interest and instantly you click on it.

You groan in displeasure as an ad starts playing, with no other choice you decide to wait for the five seconds for the skip ad button. The ad starts playing and.. It instantly catches your attention. The quality of the game and the voice acting intrigued you. Especially this one character with an ice cream cone for a hat having that magical girl transformation.

You went on deep research about the game, seeing what it will bring to the table. You watch a few videos about the story and it’s interesting enough and well written. You were so hyped when you found out the game is available on PC you went and download it, so you won’t force your phone to die more for the game.

You instantly download it, and once installed you open the app for another download. Typical. You happily waited for it and were super hyped about the intro animation. You played on, already loving the characters, oh how you favor Gingerbrave!

You played everyday, not missing a single day! Heck you even began trying to draw in the unique artstyle, even as you never draw in your entire life. Each time you gacha, you prayed on getting either an ancient or a beast. And either would be good for your team. As of current you favor Strawberry Crepe Cookie for their amazing defense and skill.

On a particular day as you log in, everything feels.. Different. The front loading screen felt odd. You brush it off and log in the game, doing your missions and creating stuff you need for the laboratory research. One of the cookies, Affogato Cookie, has a speech bubble. You clicked on it expecting the usual repeating dialogue but this time it’s different. “My, My you look quite lovely.”

Ok. A bit creepy but okay.. Maybe that’s just a new dialogue the game added? But there’s no small update requirement from the game, odd. You paid no mind to it as it’s a regular occurrence. Sometimes the cookies would have a self awareness dialogue.

You continued on playing the game with no more weird occurrences, just the normal game. You speed run through the cryspia story already passing the hollyberry kingdom. You kept on losing in the dark choco chapter so you decide to just gather up your power first before continuing.

The sound of your alarm snapped you out of your game run. Glancing at the time you realized it’s already time for one of your online classes. You closed the game, going to your kingdom one last time just to be met by Gingerbrave saying; “Pure Vanilla Cookie would love to know how radiant you are!”

You paused, staring at the screen with a shiver under your skin. You brush it off and log out the game to open your class in session group. For 30 minutes you listen to the professor explain about today’s lesson. Suddenly the sound of your phone notification caught your attention, you were about to pick up before it started to shake.

You gasped, watching as a blue hand reached out from your phone. “What-”

“TA-DA! The star of the show has arrived!~”

The hand clenched the edge of the table, using it to leverage the infamous of a Diva jester pulled himself out. “Wooow.. quite a lovely place of living you got here, need a little more blue for color though. But you won't be needing to change things since you're coming with me.”

You stare with your mouth gape open. Meeting with a powerful jester was NOT on your list today.

“What? Cat got your tongue? Ooh don’t be afraid dear, I don’t bite, unless..”

“NOPE-” You grabbed the nearest item which was your notebook and threw it at him, he barely dodged it. He frowned before smirking again as he tilted his head with his hands clasped together, placing his cheek against the back of his hand.

“Adorable attempt, dear. But you gotta do more than tha-”

A pen smacked square on his face, He stares at you, unphased “That..” he continued. “Your humble knight has arrived to bring you home!~”

“Home!?” The jester laughed, “don't fret, I don't bite.. too hard!” He grabbed your shirt and yanked you towards your phone.

Everything was.. black, no light as you stared at the abyss before a sudden flash of colors blinded you. The birds chirp to one another as they fly above you. The light from the sun blinded your vision a bit before you adjusted. You glance around, noticing your surroundings.. are odd.

Everything smells so sweet. Too sweet for your liking.

The sounds of leaves rustling snapped you out of your daze, your attention instantly went towards the bushes. Looking around, spotting one that's moving.

Stepping a bit back away from the bushes you stayed quite, not daring to make noise and startled the.. whatever it was in the bush and attacked you. Carefully you picked up a nearby stick as a weapon, if it would do anything.

Something pounces out the bushes scaring you as you leap back and fall on your back. It barks as it approaches you and sniffs the air. You opened your eyes seeing it was just a cake hound.

Wait.. Cake hound!?

[liahaslosthermind]

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞!

Azriel x Historiographer!reader Summary: Azriel and his mate tried to tell his family about their mating bond. Unfortunately, arsonist nephews, tired (and frankly, scared) generals with a single eyebrow, and stressed out parents made the task seemingly impossible. Warnings: Inner Circle is obtuse, Nyx is vengeful, Rhys is kinda an asshole A/N: Reader’s job has little to nothing to do with the story, I just hate using “y/n” so I come up with loopholes to address the reader without using it. 

It had been 3 months since the Spy Master of the Night Court and Velaris’ Head Historiographer had stopped dancing around their feelings, 2 months since the mating bond had snapped between the two, and approximately 1 hour since they decided to tell their family. 

“They will be excited for us, my love.” She cooed, trying to fix the perpetual frown that adorned her mate’s face. “They will be annoying of course, they always are,” she grumbled, “but they will be happy. And they will finally stop worrying about whether or not you are going to die alone.” She teased, combing through Azriel’s hair as she tried to push it back, a style he hated but she absolutely loved. 

“I don’t see why we have to make it a thing.” Azriel replied, fixing his hair the second her hands left his head.

“A thing? You mean our mating bond? The one you prayed for every single day of your 500 year long life? You don’t want to make telling the most important people in your life into a thing?” 

“I just thought… maybe a surprise mating ceremony would be better.”

“Azriel, how do you think that will play out? ‘Surprise, we are mates and this is our mating ceremony! But don’t make it a big deal, we don’t want it turning into a thing!’” 

“Well, at the end of the ceremony we will disappear and go on vacation before they can say anything. That way they have time to cool down and we get to have a nice relaxing time together without their antics.” Azrel justified, or at least tried to.

The small smile that adored his lips while thinking about said vacation instantly dropped when she started laughing at him. 

“And what do you think will happen when we get back? If they don’t manage to crash our honeymoon just to get answers, then there will certainly be hell to pay when we come home. And I promise, it will end up being a much bigger thing than if we just told them tonight at dinner.” 

Azriel grumbled in response. She was right, of course, but it didn’t mean he looked forward to telling their family. He wasn’t ashamed of her, nor of the bond between them, how could he be? But Azriel never liked attention, it’s why his work was so perfect for him. But his family… they were nosy. They would make it a big deal and while, quite frankly, it was a big deal, Azriel wasn’t looking forward to the show. 

Fortunately for him, the Inner Circle was also far too obtuse at times, though this time it wasn’t really their fault.

Feyre and Rhysand had recently discovered that Nyx could Winnow. This happened about a month prior when Feyre went to wake her son up from his nap and found his cradle to be empty. After 45 minutes of panicked searching alongside Rhys, Mor, Elain, Lucien, Cassian, Nesta, Azriel, and a few of the priestesses, Feyre found her son in the arms of Amren, who had discovered him in front of her apartment door an hour prior. 

Baby Nyx loved his aunt Amren more than anyone else, much to the chagrin of his parents and the rest of their family. 

In the past month, various wards had been implemented to stop the High Lord and Lady’s child from disappearing again, but they have also had to deal with the various other abilities that seemingly manifested since. 

When Azriel and his mate finally made it to dinner, Cassian had one eyebrow and an already healing burn, Mor was missing a couple inches of hair that had seemingly been singed off, both Feyre and Rhys had eyebags like never before, and a very content Nyx was sat on the lap of a gloating Amren. 

“I hope we didn’t miss all the fun!” the historiographer joked, hoping to lighten the tense mood in the dining room. 

“Oh, you missed the show, but I’d be more than happy to recount the details for you.” Nesta spoke up, cackling when she looked at her one-eyebrowed mate who hadn’t stopped pouting since the incident. 

As the two late comers sat down and started to eat, the tension in the room didn’t cease. In fact, it seemed to get worse every time Nesta broke out into giggles when looking at Mor and Cassian. 

After far too many seconds of painful silence, Azriel received a kick on the leg from his mate. Looking at her, she hissed what he assumed to be a few “encouraging” words about him growing a pair. 

After taking a deep breath, Azriel cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the entire table. 

“We have been meaning to talk to you all about something. Now, I know things around here have been… rather tense. But hopefully this good news will-”

“One second-” The High Lord interrupted as a note appeared before him. Upon reading the missive, he groaned before passing it to Feyre, the letter eliciting the same reaction from her as well. “Madja got us in touch with a healer who specializes in High Fae child development. He says that this thing with Nyx is normal at this stage, especially with powerful parents, and that the powers displayed might not even stay. It's like the Mother is testing which abilities Nyx will have, and we haven’t even gotten to the worst of it yet.” Rhysand grumbled, his hand going through his uncharacteristically unruly hair. 

“Well when the two most powerful fae in Prythian love each other very much…” Mor started. 

“They curse the rest of their family by creating the most vengeful baby the world has ever seen.” Cassian hissed. After a kick on the shin from Feyre, and a smack on the chest from Nesta, he quickly added, “Not that we don’t love you Nyx. You are the light of all our lives and blah blah blah.” After an additional glare from Rhys, Cassian yelled: “He can’t even understand me! It's not like he knows what I am-” the general abruptly stopped talking when his salad caught on fire, causing the baby on Amren’s lap to start laughing. 

After the Shadows made quick work out of putting out the fire, Azriel spoke up once more, “As I said, I know you all have a lot going on right now-”

“No kidding.” Nesta interrupted. “I keep having to fight the camp lords to allow my Valkyrie to compete in the Blood Rite and I swear every time I bring it up they find new ways to make our life harder.” 

“I am sorry to hear that Nesta, but like Azriel said I think this news will-”

“The Illyrians are a backwards group that won’t respond to being asked to change their ways. I keep telling Rhysand he needs to be harder on them.” Azriel interrupted his mate. She would have been more upset had she not known how sore of a subject Illyrians and their beliefs were for her mate. 

“Azriel, we have discussed this before. You are letting your hatred of them get in the way of logical thinking. They won’t respond to abrupt changes either, you need to let me do my job.” Rhysand argued. 

Before Azriel could argue back, he felt a supportive squeeze on his hand from the female beside him, gently guiding him back on track. “Look, I am not here to discuss Illyria. If you all could just stay silent for a moment then-” 

Fire seized Cassian’s shoulder, most likely in response to the lighthearted glares he had been sending his nephew. While the leathers protected his skin from the heat, a chunk of his long brown locks had not been as fortunate. 

“Alright, clearly this isn’t working out for Nyx. It’s past his bedtime anyway, maybe we should call it quits.” Feyre spoke up, sending an apologetic look to Cassian. 

“If you all would give me just a moment-” Azriel started.

“Look, it's been stressful around here for us, Az. I promise I will listen to whatever shit you need to complain or argue about another day.” Rhysand interrupted. While the silence that followed would have given Az the opportunity to correct his brother’s, rather rude, assumption, his mate stopped him before he could speak up. 

“You know what, you’re right, tonight isn’t the night for any family discussions. We wouldn’t want to bother you all with our lives. Have a good night.” In the many years Rhysand had known the Head Historiographer of his court, and the many years since they had become friends- almost family, he had never heard her speak in such a tone. But before anyone else could get a word in, her and Azriel had disappeared into the shadows. 

Back at her apartment, Azriel watched as his mate, seething in anger, paced in front of the fireplace. 

“I cannot believe he really insinuated all you were trying to do was argue or complain when you specifically said it was good news! What a childish, egotistical, brat!” 

“My love, he is going through a lot with Nyx right now-”

“That does NOT give him the right to talk to you like that! If he were to speak to Cassian that way, Nesta would have bitten his head off. I mean how many times had he lost it when Nesta and Feyre fought? Gods, I should have really laid it on him. It is totally unacceptable that he-” Her impassioned rant was suddenly cut off by an equally as passionate kiss. 

Suddenly, she couldn’t have cared less about what the High Lord had to say. All that existed in that moment was her and her mate. 

When the two separated, all negative emotions had been depleted, the only care being the golden string that attached one soul to the other.  

“How about this,” Azriel spoke, still breathless from the kiss the two had shared, “We can make a game out of it. We tried telling them, how about now we just make it as obvious as possible without explicitly stating anything, and see how long it takes them to figure it out.” He suggested.

“And if they are truly too obtuse to catch on?” She asked.

“We can give them the time it takes to plan a proper mating ceremony. If by then they still haven’t figured it out, then we can go with my original plan. That way they can’t be upset because it would be their fault for not catching on, and we get to have fun.” 

“A part of me kind of hopes they don’t catch on now.” She giggled. 

“Oh, trust me, unless we spell it out for them, they won’t know a thing.” Azriel replied. 

A/N: I have ideas for part two, but I also have 1,000 other ideas and projects half written, so let me know if you would like a sequel!

Edit: Read Part 2 here!

[sexwithrafe]

late night emergency ✩⠀rafe cameron

♡⃣where your boyfriend!rafe calls you at 2 AM because he's high, needy and needs your help.

warnings !⠀ ֢ ⠀fem!reader x needy!rafe. smut. cursing. male masturbation. dirty talk. drug abuse. penetration. unprotected sex. size kink. topper. creampie.

it was 2:13 AM. when your phone buzzed violently against the white nightstand, dragging you from sleep. you groaned, blindly reaching for it and squinting at the screen.

rafe. shit.

you hesitated a second before answering. "rafe? it's two in the morning.” all you could hear at first was heavy breathing and some guy laughing in the background—definitely topper.

then, rafe's voice cut through, slurred but unmistakably amused. "babyyyyy,” he drawled, “you gotta come get us. like, right now. emergency. real FBI-type situation.” you sat up. “where are you? are you okay?”

���yeah, yeah, no one’s dead,” he said quickly, and then added, “yet.” your heart dropped. “what?”

“no no no—no one’s going to die, babe. it's just... okay, listen.” he broke into a full-on laugh. “topper climbed a palm tree and forgot how to get down.”

in the background you heard topper— “i didn’t forget! I’m just observing nature!”

jesus christ.

“where are you?” you asked, already climbing out of bed. rafe paused. “um... outside that one gas station with the weird-ass parrot statue? you know the one across from the waffle house.”

“...are you high?”

he giggled. and again. and he giggled, again.

“oh, babe. we are so high.”

fifteen minutes later, you were driving your dad’s car—which you definitely weren't allowed to take after midnight—through the sleepy outer banks streets, praying a cop wouldn’t pull you over. the smell of stale fast food and cigarette smoke clung to the leather seats as you pulled up to the gas station.

and there they were.

rafe and topper sat on the curb like two overgrown kids who just discovered the sidewalk was made of magic. rafe had his hoodie half-zipped, head tilted back to look at the stars like he’d never seen them before. topper was covered in leaves and had a slurpee cup in each hand.

you rolled down the window and hissed, “get in. now.” rafe looked up and smiled so brightly it pissed you off a little. “baaaabe,” he slurred, stumbling toward the car. “you came. you're like… a sexy uber.”

“get in.” you repeated. he yanked the door open and collapsed into the passenger seat like his bones had stopped working. topper dove into the back, somehow managing to spill one of his slurpees down the side of the door. you glared at him through the rearview. “if my dad finds out you two idiots took acid behind a gas station–”

“shhhh,” rafe whispered, placing a finger against your lips. you swatted his hand away. "you're so hot when you’re mad,” he said dreamily, resting his head against the window. “like... aggressive angel vibes."

topper leaned forward between the seats, eyes wide. “did you know jellyfish don’t have brains?”

“topper, shut up!” you snapped.

the car filled with silence for all of two seconds before rafe laughed again, softly this time. “thanks for coming,” he mumbled, barely coherent now. “seriously. i didn’t want anyone else. just you.”

despite yourself, your chest tightened a little. you sighed, pulling onto the road. “you're lucky i love your dumb ass.”

rafe smiled without opening his eyes. “i know.” you glanced over at him; face flushed, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, the absolute picture of a disaster. and you realized: yeah, this was your disaster. he's busted as fuck and looking hot as hell.

the silence didn’t last long. rafe started humming some weird off-key tune while rubbing the inside of the window like he was trying to pet the moonlight. topper kept sipping what little slush remained in his cup, now definitely just melted sugar water.

you drummed your fingers on the steering wheel. “alright, where am i dropping you two idiots?” rafe sat up lazily, turning to look at topper with a goofy grin. “didn't you say you wanted to go to sarah's?”

topper perked up. “oh, yeah! sarah's house has, like, the best ceiling fan. it's ike a spaceship.”

you blinked. “so... basically rafe's house- yeah no. not going to sarah's. she'll kill both of you. and me.”

rafe pouted at you. actually pouted. “fine. your house then.” you side-eyed him. “absolutely not.”

“then your room,” he added, more hopeful. “i’ll be quiet. i won’t even touch anything. except maybe you.” topper made a gagging noise from the back.

you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “no. try again." topper piped up, “my parents aren’t home. they’re at some wine retreat or yoga sex cult or something. house is all ours.” you released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “perfect. you two are crashing at topper’s.” and topper threw his arms up like he’d won the lottery. “hell yeah! i'm making spaghetti!”

“you don’t know how to make spaghetti." you muttered, already turning the wheel toward figure eight. rafe, however, was not feeling the plan. he slumped in the seat and gave me the saddest eyes you'd ever seen. puppy-dog level. so fucking cute.

“you're not leaving me, right, baby?” you raised an eyebrow. “rafe, yes. i'm dropping you off and going home to sleep. like a normal person.” he reached out and wrapped his pinky around yours, holding it there like a damn lifeline. “but you’re warm. and nice. aaand not topper.”

“fuck you.” topper said. you sighed, heart doing a slow somersault against your will. “i'm not staying.”

rafe leaned closer, breath warm and syrupy with whatever garbage they’d eaten earlier. “just for a little. five minutes. i'll fall asleep in five. swear.”

“you’re literally vibrating.” you looked at him. “from love.” he responded. “from acid, rafe.” he smiled with that lazy, crooked smile that always made you forget how much of a walking red flag he was. “same thing, baby.” you shook your head, biting back a smile. “we'll see.”

minutes passed, and rafe had stopped humming, thank god. but his hand was now lazily tracing shapes along your thigh as you drove, and before you could even swat him away, he shifted, turning towards you and laying his head directly in your lap.

“seriously?” you asked, glancing down at his messy hair against your legs. “you’re soft,” he murmured, voice syrup-thick. “and you smell like... cinnamon or some shit. i love it here.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t push him off. his fingers were playing with the hem of your shirt now, drawing invisible lines over your stomach like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “you're gonna fall asleep and I’m not carrying you, rafe.”

“you would,” he said, eyes closed. “you’d do anything for me.”

you didn’t answer. mostly because you weren't sure if he was wrong.

you pulled up to topper's house a minute later, the porch light off, the whole place quiet except for the faint chirp of bugs in the warm night air. before you could put the car in park, you heard the back window roll down and you turned just in time to see topper flop out of the backseat like a golden retriever jumping into a pool.

“what the f– topper!” but he was already running toward the front door barefoot, muttering something about spare keys under the rock that wasn’t a rock.

and rafe didn’t move. he was still in your lap.

you reached to open the door, but he grabbed your wrist gently, eyes finally meeting yours. his pupils were still huge but a little less glossy, more clear.

“don’t go yet,” he said quietly, voice lower. “just… stay. just for a sec.” before you could say anything, he leaned up and pressed his mouth against yours. slow and hungry. his hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there, deepening the kiss. his body shifted, half crawling over the console like he was ready to climb into your skin.

“rafe,” you warned between breaths, pushing gently at his chest, “we’re not doing this here. or now."

he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, voice thick and begging. “why not? you’re here. you smell so good. i missed you all day. i need you.”

“rafe–”

“please, baby. just a little. just–”

“found the keys!” topper shouted triumphantly from across the yard. rafe whipped around and screamed out the window, “NO ONE ASKED, TOPPER!”

“YOU’RE WELCOME, ASSHOLE!” he screamed back.

you groaned and shoved rafe off. he flopped back into the passenger seat with a whine.

“both of you,” you snapped, climbing out of the car, “shut the hell up before the neighbors call the cops.”

topper stood near the porch, waving the keys like a maniac. you marched over, snatched them out of his hand. “you’re not allowed to have these while high,” you said, stuffing them in your back pocket.

"cameron your girl is rude." topper muttered.

when you turned, rafe was right behind you, way too close, still trying to look wounded and hot at the same time.

“you’re really not gonna stay?” he asked, like it physically hurt him. you raised an eyebrow. “you can barely stand.” he smirked. “i can stand on you.”

“you're unbelievable.” you sight. but walked up the steps anyway, unlocked the door, and held it open. both boys followed you in immediately. topper stumbling like a drunk puppy, rafe trailing behind you like a shadow, fingers brushing your arm, your back, you waist.

the house smelled like rich people and cologne. like expensive furniture no one actually sits on. you kicked off your shoes at the door and turned to topper, who was still swaying slightly in the entryway like gravity worked differently on him. “where’s the kitchen?”

he opened his mouth, blinked twice, then pointed in the wrong direction. “that way.”

you turned the other way — and of course, there it was. god, these boys were hopeless.

you padded into the dimly lit kitchen, opened a cabinet, and found glasses. somehow. maybe divine intervention. you filled two with water from the tap and turned just as they both stumbled in behind you.“drink,” you said, holding the glasses out like medicine.

topper groaned but took his and downed it like a shot. then he wandered off toward the couch and, within ten seconds, you heard a loud thump and then… silence.

rafe hadn’t moved. He was just standing there, arms crossed, shirt slightly rumpled, eyes heavy-lidded but focused on you.

“drink it, rafe." you ordered softly, holding his out. he took it. sipped. watched you the whole time. then, before you could step away, he set the glass down behind you and moved in with his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as you leaned against the counter. “you’re so bossy,” he murmured, voice rough. “it's hot.”

you sighed, trying to peel him off. “rafe–"

but you forgot how big he was.

and strong.

in one swift move, he spun you around, lifted you up like if you weighed nothing, and set you down on the counter. his body pushed between your legs. his hands on your hips. his mouth, inches from yours.

“i have to get home.” you said, breathless. but his eyes were darker now. still dilated. but more focused. “don't. i don’t want you to.”

“you and topper aren’t okay–”

“i'm fine,” he said, voice low, desperate. “we're fine. don't worry about us. just– stay. stay with me.” you looked past his shoulder toward the living room, where topper was now passed out cold, one arm hanging off the couch like a dead body.

“topper's literally unconscious,” you said. “exactly,” rafe whispered. “we're alone.” his hand slid to the side of your neck. firm, but not too tight. and then his mouth was on yours again, hotter, hungrier. you tried to keep your hands flat on his chest, tried to push him back.

but he knew. he always knew the effect he had on you. and then you felt it. you froze. and he pulled back just slightly with his breath shaky.

he looked at you with that look. the desperation on his face, the way he swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to where his jeans now pressed tight, told you everything.

you glanced down. and yeah. he was hard. very, very hard.

you sucked in a breath. “rafe…”

“i can't help it,” he said, voice breaking like he hated himself for it. “you do this to me.”

“you’re high, rafe." you whispered. "i know,” he said instantly, forehead resting against yours. “but i still want you.” his voice was soft. not playful. not even cocky. just... raw.

you tried to slide off the counter, palms pressing into the cool marble. but his arms locked tighter around your waist, keeping you in place. “no." he said, voice low and shaking. “don't. not yet.”

“rafe–"

“you're sitting there looking so pretty." he growled, eyes locked on your lips, “and you think i'm just gonna let you leave?” his fingers skimmed your thighs. “you’re up here, and i'm losing my fucking mind. can't stop thinking about how wet you are when i kiss you right. how you sound when i–"

“cameron.” you tried again. but bitting your lip pretty hard, and hated the way your legs didn’t want to close. his eyes dropped to your mouth. “fuck." he breathed. “that. do that again.” the look on his face turned almost pained.

“please,” he whispered. “just... please.” he pleaded with the smallest tremble in his voice. and then, with one hand, he popped the button on his jeans, slow, unhurried. his eyes never leaving yours. you watched, frozen, as his hand slipped inside the fabric, his jaw flexing. “let me look at you. let me think about you. let me–" his breath caught.

and that damn look in his eyes, all heat and need and helplessness. he was actually touching himself.

for you.

he had his other hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, as if you were something delicate. like if he wasn’t masturbating himself with the other hand, breathing heavy, mouth parted like you were the only thing keeping him upright. “baby." he murmured, voice wrecked. “please. don't say no.”

your legs clenched around him without you meaning to, and you hated. hated. the way your body was already betraying your common sense. rafe noticed. of course he did.

"you want me." he whispered, eyes dark and sure. "you always want me.” you swallowed hard, one hand gripping the edge of the counter for balance. his hand still moving inside his jeans, slow and messy. "you're just scared of how bad you want it.”

“i'm not–” you started, but he leaned in and kissed your neck, his tongue dragging slow along your skin, and your whole body arched into him before you could stop it.

he moaned into your throat. his lips trailed up to your ear. “let me fuck you right here,” he whispered, voice cracking. “on topper’s kitchen counter. with your legs open, my mouth on your neck. and you crying my name like you always do.”

your breath stuttered. rafe pulled back, just far enough to look into your eyes and cheeks flushed. “tell me you don’t want it. lie to me.” you didn’t say anything. you couldn't. because your body already had its answer. and he felt it in the way your hands finally curled into the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer. rafe’s mouth crashed into yours, wet and hungry and reckless, and you felt him groan deep in his chest as you kissed him back.

he tugged his hand from his jeans and gripped your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the counter like he owned you. “take it out." you whispered, breathless. “i want to see it.” rafe didn’t hesitate. his zipper came down, and in seconds, his cock was exposed, hard, flushed, already slick from his own hand.

you licked your lips without thinking. his breath hitched. “fuck. baby. you're gonna kill me.” you wrapped your fingers around his cock, slowly. and it twitched in your hand. his cock was hot and heavy in your hand, already leaking pre semen. the way rafe's hips jerked when you stroked him once, slow and tight. he was fucking eager.

“jesus,” he choked, eyes squeezing shut. “don't tease me. not tonight.”

“then stop looking at me like that,” you whispered, pumping him again. "like what?”

“like you’d fall apart if i walked away.” he opened his eyes. they were glassy, soft, pretty hot. “i would.”

that was all it took.

you pulled your panties to the side without even thinking, wetness clinging to the lace, and guided his cock between your legs. rafe cursed under his breath, jaw going tight. “you’re soaked.”

“you talk too much.”

he grinned and then pushed his cock in. your breath caught, a sharp little gasp against his shoulder as he filled you inch by inch. slow. deep. stretching your pussy so perfectly you couldn’t think or speak.

his hand slid up your back, holding you close, forehead pressed to yours. “i needed this,” he whispered, rolling his hips deeper. “i needed you."

you clenched around him, legs locking tighter around his waist. rafe started moving, thrusting slow but firm, his hips slapping against the inside of your thighs with each motion. the counter shook beneath you, but you didn’t care. not with the way he was fucking you like he’d been starving for it. he kinda was.

“let me see you." he said, pulling back just enough to look down, watching himself disappear into you again and again. “fuck. you take me so good, baby.”

you bit my lip, barely holding back the moan building in your throat. “rafe!" he reached between you, thumb finding your clit like muscle memory, rubbing circles that made your entire body jolt.

“you're gonna come for me,” he growled, breathing ragged. “you always do. you're mine.”

“yes.” you breathed, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him in. “i’m yours.”

he kissed you like he believed it. messy, desperate, tongue sliding over you as he fucked you faster, deeper. his hand didn’t stop moving between your legs, and your body started to shake. “come on." he whispered, voice low and broken. “let me feel you fall apart.”

and you did. you came hard, back arching, mouth open against his shoulder as you gasped his name over and over. your whole body clenched around him, trembling as he fucked you through it, like he couldn’t get enough.

rafe cursed again, hips stuttering. “i'm– fuck, i'm close–"

“do it,” you said, pulling him deeper. “come inside me.” you moaned. that pushed him over. he buried himself to the hilt, groaning low against your neck as he came. his cum was hot and thick. his whole body tensing around yours.

he held you there, arms wrapped tight, breathing like he’d just survived something. and for a while, neither of you said anything. you just stayed tangled. sticky. still connected.

until he pulled back, barely, softly brushing hair from your face with a gentleness that didn’t match how rough he’d just been.

“i love you,” he whispered, eyes half-lidded.

you looked at him. at that boy with the messy heart and the ruined voice; and said the only thing you could.

“i know.”

[bblgeum]

𐔌 coming back for more ─ geum seongje 𐦯

part two

⟡ ﹒ in which ⌇ on-again, off-again. geum seong-je drove people crazy, that was a known fact. even in romance... he made your head spin. but even in chaos, no matter how far you'll walk away, you're coming back. well, maybe not this time.

⟡ ﹒ content⌇ gn reader, childhood friends, angst, seong-je is a gaslighter

⟡ ﹒ listen to⌇ back for more - tomorrow x together, anitta

geum seong-je lived his life recklessly. he wasn't a planner, but he did live life in the moment. hence why he made descions that he regretted. especially with you - his "friend"

you two knew eachother since primary school. you saw it all. you were there when geum seong-je was laughed at, when he came home with bruises and scraped knees, when there was still a sense of momentum in his stormy grey eyes.

when you were with seong-je, it could go one of two ways. the first route was magical. it was like a dream - not a scary one, but one that you wished you could relive over and over again.

when you were with him, there was an invisible spark that went off. seong-je would tell a bad joke, smoke a cigerette. you would let out an ugly laugh that was only reserved for him... and everything would be perfect - everything made sense. you'd go normal teenage things, like interet cafes, to bowling, to hanging around alleyways and poking fun and telling stories. you knew, during these moments, seong-je was a door you'd never close. if anyone would stay, it would be seongje.

other times, it was completely different. instead of a magical spark, there would be heavy air of silence.. not rude comments, no arguments, but just silence - you thought this was worse than an argument. you weren't sure if seong-je saw you durinng these times, you weren't sure if he was comfortable with the silence. but you knew there was a sharp, aching pain in you that wanted to walk away. but of course, something told you there would be something in seong-je you couldn't replace. maybe it was that mischevous, gummy smile. maybe it was his eyes that hunted his surroundings like a predetor. maybe it was his ride or die energy, maybe it was the thrill of being with a gangster.

you never confronted seong-je about this. it was probable he didn't even notice it himself. maybe you're childhood friendship was not as cherishable as you thought it was.

the halls of ganghak high were bustling with students. like a comic, or a webtoon, their faces seemed hazy - in a grey, blurry way. their eyes seemed to lock onto you, but the emotion wasn't quiet where it should've been. there was nothing magical about ganghak students.

you were looking for seong-je. a part of you prayed you'd get the seong-je you knew when you were a child - happy (or, as happy as seong-je could get). another part of you reminded yourself that acorrding to your observations, seong-je was strangly quiet these days - almost as if he was growing exhausted of your presence.

climbing the grimey stairs to the roof and pushing the door open, fresh spring air mixed with cologne and smoke filled the sky. you find seong-je on the ground, leaning against the chainlink fence, usual cigarette in his hands. immediatly, his eyes zip to you (nothing ever went unnoticed by seong-je). your gut feeling told you immediatly, something was... off.

you stand at the door way, hesitating for a few seconds, until you go over and plop down next to him. his eyes move back towards looking at the clouds, ocasionally blowing smoke in your direction.

─ "hey, seong-je?" you eventually ask.

─ "what?"

─ "have you.. noticed- noticed..." you hesitate for a minute. "feelings" never went well with geum seong-je. seong-je rolls his eyes, and tells you to spit it out.

─ "...i feel like we're growing apart.."

he pauses, looking at you for a few seconds. there was something in his eyes. it wasn't quiet anger, and definatly not sadness. it was some mix of ignorance and possibly offence?..

─ "i've noticed, sherlock.." he eventually says, pointedly.

you look towards him before you continue on. the blanket of awkward silence covers you too again. the blanket felt rought, and grey. had an uncomfortable weight to it.

─ "my brain can't decide if your bitch ass is deserving of me, in a way." he comments, looking at the smoke he ejected from his nostrils. meanwhile, this comment hits you like a truck. not a real one, but maybe a plastic one. from those kid playsets.

you knew he probably (?) wasn't trying to sound cocky - he just was. what did he even mean by that though? and seong-je, noticing your confusion, adds on,

─ "you're just fucking.. spending so much time with that fucker- those weird friends from your cram school- jan-hae? jun-yae?"

─ "i'm not trying to be replaced... don't become the na baek-jin of my friendships." he finished, snorting.

you pause. did you really spend so much time with jun-tae? most of your freetime was at cram school... so, it was resonable. right?

─ "not my fault. when i do spend time with you, you're always quiet as hell. not a peep, seong-je.. don't throw this on me.." for some reason, your voice was nearing a dangerous ledge. he notices this and snaps his head towards you.

─ "oh yeah? what about last week, we went to that internet cafe shit, and the entire time you were talking on the phone with your fucking cram school buddies? take some accountability, you fucker!"

the snappiness in his voice tells you he's about to escalate this. you release a breath you didn't know you were holding, annoyed. seong-je always did this. it was like a chaotic game of chess. one day he played fair and by the rules, other days he flipped the metaphorical chess board upside down and took all your peices. something in you told you to get the fuck out of there. maybe, just maybe, you should walk away from this psycho chess player.

as you stand and dust of your bottoms, his hand yanks you down, hissing in your ear -

─ "seriously? after all we've been through, you're going to leave me in the corner again? you're proving my point, asshole! you never try and cooperate!"

seong-je was getting worked up, as usual. you don't respond, sending a deadpanned look to him. the gaslighter in him was coming to say hi, apparently

his next comment catches you a bit off guard.

─ "i dare you. try and ignore me, ghost me, leave me, you're loosing something you can't get anywhere else fucker."

you yank his hand off of you, now annoyed. all you tried to do was fix the hairline crack in your relationship, but seong-je, being his true self, tries to make it bigger. every chat with him turned into an argument - his goal was to win.

─ "you're always starting something! i should ghost you, seong-je!" you hiss at him, irratated.

you were about to close the imaginary 'door' that you opened years ago - but who could blame you? for years, seong-je escalted things, made them a big deal, took them personally. you weren't trying to be with someone so tough yet so sensitive.

you stalk off, seong-je rage baiting you from afar. you couldn't hear it, though. maybe silence wasn't so bad.

tbc?

author's comment: should i continue? do you like it? it's my first time writing... sorry.

[yurifan000]

pt. 3 to my angsty loser!ellie thingy 𝜗𝜚

pt.1 pt.2

nsfw! ellie cries lol, it’s kinda sweet? giggly sex at first, boobie sucking, ellie is kind of a weirdo idk… she makes out with your pussy, oral(e!receiving), fingering (e!recieving), squirt alert!, ellie cums way too fast, tribbing, desperate ellie like damn shes genuinely tweakinf. this is lowkey so nasty idk wut came over me

this is kinda long im sorry… AND NOT PROOFREAD im too lazy for allat. forgive me for any typos i will not be fixing!😊

daily click don’t buy tlou palestine mp

she had no fucking clue what to do. maybe she could pull her pants up and push herself through the tiny ass window above your shower? leave and block your number, move towns, and change her name. maybe that would work.

she shamefully pulled her sweatpants up and wiped her wet fingers on the fabric, then hid her face in her hands. what the fuck was she gonna do now? she was so sick, so perverted. all ellie could do was imagine you in your room right now, feeling so betrayed by your closest friend for being so perverted in the safety of your own home.

ellie was secretly praying to die right in this moment. she’d die happily, if zeus decided to strike her down with a lightning bolt and disintegrate her, right on your tiled floor. why was she like this? she loved you so much, she couldn’t help shoving her hand in her pants at the sight of you. but in a sick way, it wasn’t from lust.

it was from love.

ellie told herself she had some sick masturbation problem, and she probably needed to be put on some medication for being fucking insane. she just couldn’t help it. your kindness made her heart swell so much that it made her horny, in the weirdest way.

ellie had gotten horny from other things before, sure. but that’s all it was. lust. you, you made her horny in the same way that you made her tummy get butterflies. she just wanted to love on you. she had so much love and affection to give, the only way to release it was through taking care of herself, shamefully.

which is what led her to be in the predicament she’s in right now. she swore she’d never masturbate again, after this.

after maybe 10 minutes of sitting in silence, she decided to leave the bathroom. no use in staying there forever.

the walk down the hall to your room felt so suspenseful and wya too fucking long. maybe it’s because her steps got slower the closer she got.

she had already composed what she was going to say to you. “I don’t know what you saw, but it’s not what it looks like.” and go from there. But the second she entered through the door and saw you sitting on your bed, looking up at her with the most intense look in your eyes, all that went out the window.

“i am so sorry.”

she mumbled, her throat having this large, suffocating lump in it from the urge to cry. before you could say anything back, she spoke again.

“i’m so fucking sorry, i don’t know what i was thinking. i— im so fucked up i know, you didn’t deserve that—“

she continues on, her hands gripping so tightly on the bottom of her hoodie, to the point her knuckles turn white. she doesn’t even realize the tears that spill down her face, not until the look on your face changes. your eyebrows raise, and you look almost like you’re pitying her.

“els… stop that. it’s okay. you’re fine.”

you say, standing up and getting right in front of her. you almost wanted to say sorry for intruding on her, but honestly— what the hell was she doing that for in the first place? you didn’t pry, only wanting to calm her down.

“i thought we could laugh it off. yknow.. like something we could look back on and smile about. no need to cry.”

you say softly to her, using that gentle voice you had whenever you wanted to be sincere. you even go as far as to wipe some of the wetness off her cheek with your thumb.

you were so good to her. she should be relieved to hear your response, but she’s not. it only makes her more frustrated.

“i can’t.”

she looks down at the floor, unable to look you in the eye.

“can’t? can’t what?”

you’re confused, why can’t she just move on from it? you really wanted to bury this memory and stay the way you were.

“i can’t move on.”

she blurts out, a few stray tears still rolling down her cheeks. you just stare at her for a moment, and then it clicks.

“oh.”

you knew exactly what she meant by that. the poor girl, she had her feelings for you all pent up inside of her for god knows how long. you felt terrible, for making her feel even worse about this whole thing. but at the same time, you felt unreasonably giddy.

the fact that ellie, your very bestest friend, had such a big crush on you that it brought her to tears? how flattering is that? you always had a little thing for her, but you brushed yours up as some silly friend crush.

but her tiny confession made your heart pound like nobody has done before.

you grab her hands and lead her to your bed, sitting her down in front of you. you were gonna set this right.

“ellie, why didn’t you tell me?”

she looks at you as if you were dumb. why in the hell would she ever admit her undying love for her best friend?

“because you’re… i don’t fucking know! you’re my best friend nd’ i didn’t wanna mess things up— n’ you have those stupid fuck buddies of yours and—“

oh, the fuck buddies. you now realize why ellie was so quick to leave your home that day she showed up unannounced. the poor baby probably had her feelings so hurt.

“you know, there’s a reason i never actually end up dating them, ellie. that’s all they were to me. they didn’t really make me… feel.”

you say, wiping the tears off her cheeks with one thumb. the way she looked at you made your heart melt.

“..huh? feel what?”

she raises an eyebrow, completely missing what you’re saying. you laugh, covering your eyes for a moment. you forgot you’re talking to ellie. you kinda have to spell it out for her.

“dude. i’m saying that you make me feel.”

she stares at you blankly. she really is doesn’t wanna assume, too afraid of embarrassing herself. you sigh.

“fuck, ellie. i like you too.”

you’ve never seen the girls eyes get so wide. is this even fucking real? ellie couldn’t believe her reddened ears. she doesn’t even have the capacity to feel embarrassed anymore. all she feels is absolute, genuine shock.

“are… are you sure?”

she asks quietly, sniffling a bit. the girl’s nose was still running from her humiliating breakdown in front of you. you almost get pissed at her stupid question.

“yes? the hell?”

you narrow your eyes at her, giving her shoulder as slight shove. she grunts and shoves you back, playfully.

“i was just making sure! i can’t tell if you’re fucking with me.”

“why would i be fucking with you? i’m not evil, ellie.”

she just shrugs, and lets out a slight giggle. she smiles a bit, wiping her damp, sticky face. god, how you loved her smile. it was the sweetest thing ever. both of you giggled for a minute, laughing at the absurdity of this whole thing.

after a few seconds of comforting laughter and smiles between the two of you, you realize ellie isn’t gonna make a move. of course she isn’t, even after that confession. ellie would never make the first move, no way in hell. so, you lean in and give her a quick peck on the lips, less than a second long. it caught her completely off guard.

her eyes widened so much, and her eyebrows raised so far up. you literally saw her cheeks redden, like you two were in a movie. she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at you. a large, toothy grin right that made her cheeks hurt. she didn’t even say anything, just grabbing the sides of your face and bringing you in for a kiss again.

she kisses so hard. her lips push against yours, you could feel her smiling against your mouth. she pulls apart for a second, just looking at you. then, she moves right back in.

the kiss is softer this time, more passionate. in ellie’s mind, she was gonna do this right. she’s gone over in her head thousands of times what she would do if she got to kiss you, to make love with you. she couldn’t mess this up.

you two make out for a bit, the smacking noises from the kissing makes your head feel fuzzy. you’re still pretty wet, from the kissing and the sight you saw earlier. after you pull away from her lips for some air, you give her this look. you want more.

“is.. is this okay?”

ellie asks, slowly kissing your neck and stopping just to look at your reaction. you smile and nod, finding her mannerisms to be too fucking cute. she was so eager.

ellie was in heaven. your skin tasted so good, and you smelled like you. her favorite scent. she peppered kisses over every square inch of your neck and shoulders, her hands resting on your hips. she didn’t dare move your top though, too scared to initiate it.

you slowly moved her shaky, clammy hands to the bottom of your little top, letting her grab it and guiding her hands upwards. you whispered to her in a reassuring tone.

“els, it’s okay.”

she just looks at you, pupils blown and nods. she slowly pulled your top off and over your head, letting your tits spill out right in front of her. of course she noticed you weren’t wearing a bra the second she came over, but it still took her breath away.

“holy fuck.”

she muttered, staring right at your tits. they’re better than she imagined. and she imagined them to be the most perfect tits ever. she couldn’t help herself, poor baby. she just had to lean in and take one of your nipples into her mouth. her left hand flew to your other breast, kneading the soft flesh.

the quick action made you gasp lightly, letting out a tiny whine at the feeling of her teeth nipping at your skin. she was tasting you. you felt her warm face press against your skin, as if she was trying to suffocate herself. you got a bit worried, so you tapped her cheek.

“e-els, you gotta breathe—“

you were cut off by her lips popping off your breast, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to her lips. she murmured a quiet “fuck me,” and immediately went to your other nipple, repeating the same motion.

your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. how the fuck was she so good with her tongue? the way she eagerly licked over your nipples until they hardened in her mouth, nipping at them softly. literally eating your fucking tits right in front of you.

“you’re so fucking beautiful. so so beautiful.”

ellie mumbles to you, forcing herself to get off your boobs. she could spend the rest of her life right there, but there was more to tend to. her hands went to the hem of your shorts, looking at you for permission.

as much as you wanted to say yes and let her do whatever the hell she wanted, you wanted to see her even more. you tug lightly on her hoodie, giving her a gentle smile.

“take this off first?”

say less. say fucking less, is all ellie thought. she stuttered out a quiet “okay, okay,” and nodded, messily pulling her hoodie off of her. you giggled as it got stuck on her head, and it made her giggle along with you. neither of you could stop laughing at any little thing the other one did.

you sighed at the sight of her in her sports bra and sweats, but you wanted that shit off too. ellie wasted no time either, immediately pulling off her sports bra. you didn’t even get to admire her beautiful tits before you saw her pulling her sweats off and kicking them to the side, leaving her in her spongebob boxers. they had spongebob printed all over them.

“interesting fashion choice,”

you said through a laugh, and ellie just smiled awkwardly. she would’ve chosen a different pair if she knew she was gonna do this. fuck her stupid past self for buying that pack of spongebob-themed boxers at spencer’s a few months ago.

“god, don’t look.”

she muttered, moving closer and kissing you again. you kissed back softly, still giggling a bit. nobody made you laugh as effortlessly as she did. her thumbs hooked around the soft fabric of your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one go.

all the words ellie wanted to say died in her mouth. she laid down between your thighs and was face to face with your pussy. your pussy. she thought she was going to faint, she swore she felt her vision going.

gorgeous, that’s the only word to describe you. you were absolutely soaked, your slick making your puffy pussy lips shine and look tantalizingly supple. your swollen clit, and those gorgeous folds. somebody pinch her.

the scent of your arousal filled her nostrils, and she moaned. a deep, guttural moan from the pit of her stomach, just by smelling you. your cheeks were so warm, as you lifted your head to peek down at her. you were gonna say something, but your throat closed on you the second her lips touched your cunt.

this, this was new. ellie had her nose and mouth shoved deep into your cunt, your wetness and warmth englufing her. you expected to feel her tongue push out her lips and onto you, but no. the first thing you felt was her inhaling. her nose sniffed your pussy so deeply, you fucking heard it. you looked down, confused, seeing a half-lidded ellie groan as she inhaled your scent. you didn’t say anything, literally just watching. nobody’s ever gotten off to your scent before, like ever. but shit, it turned you on way too much.

she mumbled something incomprehensible against your pussy, then slowly, languidly, started lapping at your cunt. her tongue pushing through your dripping folds and collecting every single drop of slick you had, and fucking swallowing it. swallowing after every couple of licks. you moaned, because what the actual fuck.

how did she make this so fucking hot?

it felt so good, but it wasn’t enough to make you cum. it was too slow. your hips greedily moved and pushed against her lips, but she didn’t increase her pace one bit. she was clearly doing this for her own pleasure. too pussydrunk to care. her eyelids were so low, but you saw her staring at you the entire time she ate you out. like clockwork, her tongue dipping into your hole, drinking you up like you were liquid gold.

after hearing enough of your desperate whines for more, she slowly moved herself up, the lower half of her face was completely drenched. she kissed the soft mound of your cunt, then up your tummy, through the valley of your breasts, and finally slowly kissed your lips again. tasting yourself on her tongue made you feel brain dead.

“eat my pussy, please…”

she murmured against your lips, giving you the tiniest peck on your mouth after she spoke. since when did she get so bold? it made you embarrassingly wet.

who were you to say no to her?

you simply nodded, and gently pushed her to the side so she could lay down on her back. you immediately got between her legs, as she planted her feet on the mattress. shit, she was so eager.

she lifted her butt and chuckled quietly as you pulled off her silly boxers. once they’re off, you’re met with the most beautiful sight. her auburn bush, decorating her cunt so delicately. it made your mouth pool with saliva. her pretty, red and needy clit poking out, just begging to be touched. she was so wet. you don’t think you’ve ever seen a cunt dripping this much before. she was already clenching in and out softly, drops of arousal leaking out of her and forming a tiny droplet on your bedsheets. you could’ve came from the sight.

“how long have you been wanting this?”

you ask her quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to her clit. her hips bucked into your face, and you smiled.

“ssss—so fucking long. needed you from the start… fucked myself to you s’much…”

she just kept spilling her guts to you, just trying to get you to put your fucking mouth on her cunt. your fidgety, nervous ellie that you knew turned into a completely shameless slut for you.

“yeah? you could’ve told be earlier, els.”

you tease her lightly, and she just whines desperately. you decide not to deprive her any longer, and lick a long stripe up her soaked pussy. she groans, hands flying to your hair and gripping it. your tongue licked over her clit, making her hips jolt upwards and further into your face. you had her a mess, babbling anything through grunts.

“mmh, so good…”

“jjjust like that, fuck me…”

“i-i love you. love you s’fuckin much,”

you kept sucking on her clit, letting her hips grind against your lips to her hearts desire. your left hand went to hold hers, your fingers being gripped so tightly that you felt your knuckles pop.

your right hand went straight to her pussy, unlatching your mouth from her clit so you can gather some wetness on your fingers. she groaned, and you slowly pushed in your middle and ring finger once they were slick enough. your lips went right back to her clit, sucking and licking on it again.

you got a good two pumps into her cunt before you felt them being squeezed tightly, and her voice suddenly turning high pitched and whiny.

“oh fuck!!— m’cuh.. cumminggg…”

she said quite loudly, and before you could even register what she was saying, you felt a large spurt of liquid splash onto your face. you slowly kept pumping your fingers, taking your mouth away as she literally drenched your entire face with her very theatrical squirt.

she squirted on you after only a minute.

you blinked, slowly pulling your fingers out of her and letting her catch her breath. once she regained most of her sanity from that, the humiliation set in.

she wasn’t supposed to cum that fast.

“oh shit, i’m sorry. i didn’t think… fuck.”

she said a breathlessly, looking down at your drenched face. she was so embarrassed, cumming pathetically fast. she wasn’t even properly fingered and she already made a mess all over you and your poor bed. but honestly, you didn’t care.

“ellie. that was probably the hottest thing you could’ve done.”

you smile at her, sitting up and wiping your face a bit, licking the residue off your hand. you give her a soft kiss on the lips, getting ready to settle next to her. but ellie has a different plan in mind.

“wait, i wanna make you cum.”

she’s shy with her words, as if she wasn’t slutting herself out for you less than a minute ago. she sits up, not letting you turn down her offer. she wants to make you feel good so bad. so, you let her do her thing.

but when she situates herself between your legs once more, lifting your right leg over her shoulder and kissing your calf lightly, you speak up.”

“oh, els. you’re not too overstimulated for that?”

you protest lightly, not wanting her to push herself. she shakes her head, not wanting to back down from this. this is what she’s wanted for so long. to make love to you, in the most intimate way possible.

“let me do this for you, please.”

her voice is soft and desperate, practically begging you. how could you turn down that offer. you smile warmly at her, and she takes it as your green light. she whispers a tiny “i love you” before lowering her sopping cunt and slotting it right against yours.

euphoric. mind fucking blowing. both you and ellie gasped at the sensation. your sticky, warm pussies pushed up against each other felt so good. you let out a slightly strained moan, and ellie slowly started to move her hips in a rhythm against yours. poor baby couldn’t even focus on her overstimulated clit— she was desperate to make you cum. and it felt way too good.

“oh, right there.. so good ellie.”

you let out a string of praises to her, and she just kept moving. the sloshing noises of your cunts mashed together was mind numbing. ellie definitely wanted to cry.

the way you two made love was so intimate. she felt so connected to you, no words could describe it. she started at your face with a fucked out expression, continuing the movement of her hips.

“gon…gonna cum, els…”

you warn her, and she keeps going. her hand grips onto your leg so tightly, fucking her cunt onto yours so deliciously.

“i know baby, i know. m’close too. gonna cum with you, okay?”

she rambles, voice unstable and shaky as you both reach your breaking point. you nod and keep whining broken parts of her name, your nails digging into her forearm.

with one last thrust, you two cum basically at the same time, your cunts leaking onto each other. she keeps moving her hips slowly until the overstimulation sets in, which forces her to pull away from you, her weak body plopping right down next to yours.

both of you lay in silence for a few moments, just enjoying your post-orgasm bliss. ellie’s hand snakes back over to yours, and your fingers immediately intertwine the second they touch. she looked at you with all the love in the world. and of course, you did the same right back at her.

she was still your best friend though, so you had to push her around just a bit.

“so, you wanna tell me why you own spongebob boxers?”

ellie smiles and shoves you lightly. yeah, she was so in love with you.

Ok baiii i hope u guys liked it! :3 i can’t tell if im satisfied with it but i tried… sending love xoxo

taglist: @lil-elliesgf @a-little-bit-of-everybody 🩷

[cravinganotherworld]

Despair - Part 1 - Frontman x reader (Squid games)

WARNINGS: SEASON 3 SPOILERS!! Guns, mention of death. heartbreak, lots of crying.

Notes: What did everyone think of season 3!? it took me on a whirlwind of emotions i'm not ready to acknowledge yet :) Anyway this will be a series like the Amorous series which you can find the first part of here. I hope you enjoy!

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours and hours felt like days since Gi-Hun, Young-il and the others left to fight for your freedom. You tried your best to join but Young-il wouldn’t let you, no matter how much you begged, no matter how much your promised to stay safe he left you. With a soft kiss goodbye and parting tears you watched as he walked out the door, shooting a final glance back at you. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, until suddenly Dae-ho runs in. You rush to your feet.

“Dae-Ho!? What’s happening where is everyone else?” he stares at you, his lips moving but nothing coming out as his whole body shakes. Calmly you place your hand on his arm and speak to him, slower this time. “Dae-ho, I need to know where the others are…do you know?” he nods his head but still doesn’t speak. Looking down you notice his arms full of ammo and your heart sinks knowingly. “Have they run out of ammo?” He nods again. Every solution swirls through your head as you figure out what to do, clearly Dae-ho is in no fit state to get this to them. “Can I have the ammo? I’ll take it to them?”

“Y/n no! you don’t even know where they are!” you hear player 149 speak. Dae-ho drops the ammo and rushes past you to a bed in the far corner. As you bend down to pick up the ammo player 149 rushes over and places her hand over yours, stopping you.

“Please, you have to let me, Young-il could be-“

“Young-il would want you to stay here and be safe” You look at her, you know she’s right but every fibre in your body is telling you to go. Slowly you shake your head and tug her arm away from yours.

“I’m sorry, but if there’s even the slightest chance of saving him, I have to” Before she could reply you pick up the ammo and rush towards the door. Suddenly, before you could reach the door pink soldiers came rushing in pointing their guns towards you and the others.

“Everyone on the floor now!” You stand still not moving until you heard player 149 shout.

“Y/N please…do as they say…. this is no way to die” Turning towards her, you let a single tear slip from your eye but continue to stand. Around you pink guards begin to line either side of the dorms, their guns pointing at each person. Behind you, you feel the tip of a gun press into your back.

“Player 118, on the floor now!” Defeated you drop the ammo and fall to your knees, it felt as if everything was in slow motion. Your cheek touched the cold floor, your eyes lingering on the door praying for young-il to run through and save you. You knew though…deep down that Young-il wasn’t coming back. Something in you turned then, all the light you held drained away, all the kindness…all the hope and joy…everything.

Soon after the guards received orders to return to their stations, leaving you all to return to your bunks. As you rise to your feet player 149 rushes over to you.

“Y/n honey. Are you okay?”  you look down at her saying nothing, your eyes emotionless, your silence deafening as you walk past her walking not towards your bunk but Young-Ils and sit where he once did. You lay on your side, resting your head against his pillow which still smelt like him and close your eyes. Everything comes back, all the memories…the yearning…. the secret touches when you thought no one else could see…the way he held you when you finally gave in to your impulses…everything. So you let go, you let the tears stream down your face as you hold the pillow tighter knowing that was all you had left of him. Suddenly the doors open and more pink guards rush into the room, this time holding a coffin. You slowly sit up, wiping your tears and watch as they place the coffin in the centre of the room before leaving once again. Confused like everyone else, you walk over to the coffin, looking around to see who had died yet seeing everyone very much alive.

“It must be one of the players that didn’t make it” Player 120 spoke. You breath in a sharp breath as she opens the lid of the coffin, Gi-Hun.

“No…” you whisper. Player 120 leans down to check his pulse.

“He’s alive” breaths of relief fill the air. “Here, help me bring him over to his bunk” you grab one of his arms and help them pull hm over to his bunk, placing him down carefully.

“I’ll stay with him” you speak. The others nod and begin to walk away. You turn your head to look at Gi-hun, blood covered his face, paired with blood running down the side of his head. “Oh Gi-hun” you whisper, taking his hand in yours. As you go to sit on the floor next to him you hear player 120 speak from the centre of the room.

“y/n…” reluctantly you look away from Gi-hun and over to player 120. She was holding something in her hand…it looked like a jacket. “I think this is for you...” Confused you leave Gi-Huns side and walk over to them. As you get closer your breathing becomes shallow, and your heart falls to your stomach. In her hand she held a jacket covered in blood. Beside her players 149 and 222 look towards you, pity clear in their eyes.

“Why would this be for me?” you whisper. Gently she places the jacket in your hand, and you look at her.

“I’m sorry…truly” you blink away the tears forming and look down. As you unfold the jacket your heart shatters and your breath catches in your throat. Looking down through tear filled eyes you see it….001. Falling to your knees you bring the jacket to your chest, screaming out in anguish as the tears fell once more.

[amoristt]

the night falls like heaven || 2

part one (x)

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, mild sexual themes, mild violence, not as angsty as the first one lol, namgyu is a fake idgafer,

a/n: im so happy to get this final out UGH i do have one more small piece related to this mini series ( wink wink iykwim) that ill get posted asap! i hope you guys enjoy hehehe word count: 7.5k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・When you open your eyes on the dawn of the third day, the first thing you’re met with other than the ceiling is the hushed whispering of other players already awake. Chatter that grew by the minute, drowned out below you. 

Sitting up was a hassle for sore, sore muscles and aching bones that had been shaken to the very marrows. You remembered praying, staring up into the white tiles above, for god to give you an easier day than the last. 

You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the third game. Mingle was a monster bearing teeth and a gaping maw, biting and snarling and killing. Blind panic, grabbing hands and twisting fingers. Room after room watching the light in someone's eyes go out through the miniscule gap in the heavy doors. 

Almost every second of the game was spent in apprehensive terror, watching the room go round and round until you were dizzy between the colors and blood. The way fear had stricken you made it hard to focus on anything except numbers and faces, split second decisions that showed only the truest of nature, tailing the few people you’d grown acquainted with into rooms bathed in muted greens and oranges. 

Nam-gyu was nowhere to be seen- or perhaps you were just simply overlooking him, lost in the sea of moving bodies and swaying feet. 

Groups of six became five, and then four. One after the other, names of those you’d never gotten the chance to learn became grave markers. Four, and then three. 

Over the days, you’d grown quite close to a player who’d happened to choose the bed a couple feet from yours, the both of you chatting about the people scattered about the dormitories. He was a kind man with dark hair and even darker eyes that never seemed to feel untrustworthy. Normal enough, friendly enough. Quick to let you join his team during the six-legged race even though you’d found him with a sour expression and an ever more sour attitude. 

So when the number of players per room dropped to two, you jumped to grab his hand and yank him into a room. The least you could do, you think. He had been so kind when you kept messing up your minigame, managed to gather your confidence into the final try, you owed it to him to get him through his game. 

You threw a door open and let him jump inside. For just a second, all the chaotic cries were muffled through the thick walls. 

But only for a second. Because something true and powerful ripped you back by your tracksuit, dragged you right out from that room and sent you skittering on the floor feet away. The wind knocked from your lungs, the back of your head bouncing off the floor with a crack. Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, obscuring the scene before you, but not so much to miss a man slipping into the room after forcibly taking your place.

When you finally bring yourself to your feet and try to pry the door back open, you see your friend held back by that damned player all the way in the corner. 

“Run!” Your friend cries. No sound reaches you. “Run!”

The step back you took was shaky, your mind swimming, lost under the ocean. Heat flooded your skin, prickly and loud. Your heart was a thrashing beat, beat, beat, in your ears. 

Outcries and players beating on doors in the corners of your eyes. 

You were going to die. 

The first thing you think of, standing there frozen in place, watching your friend try in vain to free himself from the other player’s (your murderer’s) grip, was what death would be like. Doors slam shut, rooms occupied with poor souls clutching at the window trying to pry the doors open.

The player holding your friend back gave you sorry, sorry eyes despite it all. 

You hoped the afterlife would be kinder than this. 

And then, with seconds to live, you think of Nam-gyu. The time spent with him argues with the pit of hours spent wasted. Years of wondering and then days of having. It was never good for you, not really, but you loved him in a way that made you weak in the knees. And you missed him so, so deeply that when you’d locked eyes with him on day one there was this little part of you that hoped he did, too. 

Clearly, he did. And you fought against him like a bull, his hands tearing away on your horns, all anger and sneers. A piece of you rearing its head, an angry beast that would prickle at the very thought of his name. A suit of rage to hide away that broken hearted girl standing in the doorway, wishing he’d stop her. 

All that. Just to let him back in. 

If you had known this was the end, perhaps you would have let him prove himself.

You’re yanked to the side so intensely you almost drop to the ground like a stone through murky waters. Running, somehow, even though you couldn’t feel your legs. Everything is a blur of colors and flashing pinks, your brain’s gears have gone haywire and firing blanks in the disarray. When you’re getting your footing back, and your eyes have decided to process the sight before you, you’re drowned out in green covering every corner. 

Metallic thudding and muffled screams. You’re spun around on your heels so quickly it almost made you tip over all over again.

“Why the fuck were you just standing there?!” 

You hear his voice before you see his face. 

When you do, and Nam-gyu’s blocking that abhorrent neon light beating over your skin, it feels like all the gears have stopped. Tunnel vision, all else echoing away in chambers far forgotten. His hands drag from your shoulders to your face, tries to gather the bits of you scattered outside the room. 

“What’s going on with you, huh? Listen to me!”

He’s angry. Or, at least, he looks like it- sounds angry too. But the way his eyes are scanning you, searching you over in noticeable distress tells you otherwise. Fingers running through your hair, tips dancing through your locks until suddenly they nudge up against something so sharply sensitive that it makes you leap. He’s quick to stop you when you try to shove against his chest. 

“Hold still,” Fingers still searching, the palms flat against the sore spot you’d cracked against the hard floor. “You hit your head.”

Not angry, after all. Even the animosity in his tone has melted into something quieter. He draws back and checks his hands for blood. 

“I’m fine.” You have this idea to push Nam-gyu away from you. For some reason, you don’t. You lean into him. Maybe it’s because your head is still struggling to support your brain. Or, maybe, it’s because at that moment you were grappling with the reality that was him being one of your final thoughts. Again. 

Flirting with death was becoming a trend with a common denominator. 

You bury your face into his chest and let yourself feel protected for the first time in years. For a moment, Nam-gyu tenses. Unsure, disbelief. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was a gentle hum that vibrates against his chest, and sticky tears are dampening your water lines, lost in his tracksuit. Wakes him up, muscle memory wraps his arms around your body. You can’t hide the way you tremble like a leaf.

And you can’t hide the way he soothes it all out, rests his chin against the top of your head and lets you use him to find yourself in one piece.

You thank him again, even when he says not to. You thank him, and thank him, and thank him until the door unlocks and you follow him out like a braindead zombie. Pools of blood, now more than ever, are splattered along the floor. 

You see yourself among them.

Still a meandering zombie all the way back to the dormitories. The top bunks have all been taken down, marking the end of lives. There’s a pit in your stomach that only alleviates when you lock eyes with your friend- and this stupid grin explodes over your face when he realizes you lived. He’s across the room from you now, but he’s warm all the same. 

It takes a long time to find a new bed to call your own, but when you do, you hope laying down will help you with the thoughts rattling around in your skull. 

.

Hours later, you’re still drowning in thoughts. 

I do know you. That's exactly why I won’t be on your side. 

Your throat strickens. A million thoughts are bursting your brain at its very seams and spilling out from the cracks. Chatter is endless in the dormitory, but you loiter in uncanny silence. 

You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again. 

The extraordinary disdain so profound it had scared even you to hear it rolling off your tongue. Standing before you, ears flat and flickering tail tucked, an unending urge to control, Nam-gyu had been the very same man you’d deserted for all those years. But the core of you had been so blue it would frost to the very touch, sapphire walls of licking flame to keep anyone and anything out. Even as you found companionship in the presence of others, your mind called for him until you’d hushed it with an onslaught of terrible, terrible memories at his own hands. 

But then you almost died, ripping the cord back on your third attempt at the spinner, watching it tumble fruitlessly as your heart thudded in your ears. Finally getting it, and still barely passing the finish line with your lives intact. It rocked you- changed you, but only in the ways you didn’t notice right away. Walking back into that dormitory, frightened as rabbits before great jaws of teeth, the first thing you fancied yourself to see was him. 

You felt something real when you did- something forgotten and dusty creeping into the forefront of your mind. 

And then he went and saved your life during Mingle. 

Plucked you from the claws of death itself and dragged you into that washed out green-lit room, the colors hueing off your skin and glistening in his eyes when he grabbed your face to check on you. The distress of his expression, the red-hot regard for you to be in one piece, to be in his hold again after so long… It rewired something in your fuzzy brain. Clarity, or illusion, settled and fired echoing shots of previously snuffed out passion to life. 

Reminded you why you fell in love with him, why you never wanted to be without him. More specifically, why being his girlfriend, his one and only, was so important. 

You had known from the start that you were his. You knew it the first night he’d picked you up on his night off and drove you around the city, watching the lights sing in the hues of his eyes. You knew it when he crept into your apartment at a very whim after a long shift, particularly worn and falling into your bed with beautiful ease. 

You knew it the first time he kissed you, eager and fervent. And you knew it the first time you felt him inside of you. Heavy, filling, the perfect piece to all that you needed. 

At the end of the day, you knew it was always you and him- until that fact began to waver and fade, and you found that resolve cracking. Disappearing for weekends at a time, never returning a text or a call, until suddenly it was two in the morning and he was at your door, and you’d barely even get the chance to rub the sleep from your eyes before he was pushing you into the walls and stripping you down to your very bones. All teeth and grabbing hands and your voice chanting his name through the silence. 

A flame roaring so deep and red hot it scorched at the touch. 

It was such a small request, you felt- labels. Be mine, be mine, be mine so I may give myself entirely to you and trust the fall on the way down. You needed that reliability, you needed to know that he held you as you held him. And, lord, you had been so sure of yourself. Brought it up as you ran your fingers along his chest absently, exposed and naked and shimmering with the hazy afterglow of sex. 

No had caught you off guard so severely you had to ask him to repeat himself. The second time you heard it, it hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing overhead. Drenched, chilly down to your very bones. Air ripped from your lungs, mouth dry when he proceeded to laugh at you. 

“Be serious.” He’d chittered. “I’m too busy for all that.” 

Voice wavering, tears already threatening to build in your eyes as you spoke, I am serious. 

“Don’t be a bitch, okay?” Hands touching your naked sides, wrapping around you like slithering snakes threatening to drag your life from the confines of your skin. A touch that felt as slimy as his voice sounded. “We’re fine like this.”

“So what, you just want to fuck and call it a day, forever?”

Lips finding your neck. 

“Come on. You know I like you.” Licks up your jugular, doesn't notice the way you aren’t shivering at the feeling, locked up. 

“If you like me then be my boyfriend.” His ceiling was mundane, void of anything particularly eye-catching, but you couldn’t tear your gaze off.

“I’m busy.”

“…Not too busy for sex, though.”

He pulled back to look at you, this growing sneer on his lips. “What’s gotten into you, huh?��

“Come on, is it really so bad? Being my boyfriend?” You sweetened, tried to soften him. “I just wanna hear you say it, y’know?”

Nam-gyu had tensed at the word the first time, and he did just as well the second time around. Prickles at every word. 

“We’re not fucking-” He gets up and you’re cold, and you’re heart broken and there’s rage simmering somewhere in your belly. “What we have is fine. Don’t complain about shit.”

“Seriously Nam-gyu? You show up and you fuck me and but that’s all you want out of life?” When he doesn’t answer, that simmering rage bubbles into more, swinging your legs from around his bed and bringing yourself to your unsteady feet. “Tch. Fine. Forget about it. ‘Too busy’. God’s sake- If you’re too fucking busy have you considered working a little less?”

Nam-gyu’s jaw tenses and he scoffs, climbs out of bed and passes you right by to throw himself limply onto the couch. 

“Can you chill? How about you focus on you and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

You took all of five minutes to throw your clothes on and find yourself running down the halls of his apartment. All you bore was your clothes, your phone, and your dignity. Rest be damned, scrambling to get to the privacy of your home with eyes so blurred with tears you almost didn’t make it. 

Months and months to scrub him from your body, even longer for the weight of his presence to go unnoticed in your mind. Even longer to stop seeing him in your dreams, and feeling your heart flutter with every knock at the door. 

You should hate him, still. 

But oh god, you can’t.

And oh god, the way he looked at you in that room, all hands clutching and grabbing and touching you so gingerly you wonder if you’d died somehow, after all. In that moment you wondered how he could ever hurt you at all. Beautiful and warm. 

Years to forget him. 

Exactly 3 days for him to sink back in as if he’d never left. 

Corners of your brain would always house him, the door was always propped open and all the windows unlocked. Nam-gyu would find himself right back where he had started within you, leaving dirty footprints through your hallways.

The differences in him were subtle creatures, if you’d blink you’d miss it at times, but he’s trying and that means he gives enough of a shit. He’s waiting for you to open your arms and welcome him back in so he could make a mess of you all over again- and though you may be a fool, you decide to throw the poor dog within him a particularly tasty bone. 

You don’t sit next to him by any teams, but after grabbing your dinner from the guard you make a point to settle upon a set of steps within Nam-gyu’s general vicinity. It’s an invitation- one that reaches him in alluring calls the very moment he sees you lean back and catch his eyes. As always, he was eager to take that chance, hastily getting up from what little ‘friends’ he had and scurrying over to sit beside you. 

At first you don’t offer any words. There’s a certain weight in the gapping pause, like he’s at the edge of his seat, leaning on every inhale and exhale of yours. Dark eyes and a pointed expression that can never quite seem to figure you out. He waits, and he waits for you to break the silence whilst spinning the rings on his fingers, his meal yet to be touched at his lap. Your tongue swipes out over your lips.

“Thank you.” Tentative, careful. But you break the stillness regardless like a stone through water.

“You already said that.” 

“I know, but I need to say it again. You could have gotten yourself killed, you know.”

Poking through his rice with his chopsticks, all he offers is a dull shrug, like it doesn't matter. Your eyes narrow, and you mock him with a dramatic shrug of your own.

“That’s all? Really?” He won’t meet your face, chewing the edge of his lower lip. You scoff. “Does your life mean that little to you?”

“How can you ask that? It means a lot to me. I don’t wanna die.”

“You almost did.”

He finally finds your eyes, expression caught somewhere between the dance of upheaval and agitation. Perhaps he doesn’t even understand it himself- the way he’d thrown his life around so easily for you. You’re pushing him, so you reign back, let yourself soften just enough. 

“You could have died, and you did it anyway?”  

“Damn it,” He sets his food down and rubs his eyes, dragging at the skin. “Why’re you always asking so many questions?”

“Because you never tell me things on your own.” You pluck the fried egg from your box, chewing down the cold food. When you take a bite, Nam-gyu does too, whether he means to move in tandem with you intentionally or not. 

“I tell you lots of things.”

“Sure, but nothing I ever really wanna know.”

“Alright.” He puts his food down again, swallows his mouthful of rice, restless. “Ask me shit, then.”

You know the smart thing would be to have a couple buffer questions, little things real easy for him to digest, but the words leave you before you get the chance to pull them back down to the pandora within your chest. 

“Why did you turn me down?”

It should catch him off guard, but it doesn’t. His blinks down at you, jaw tensing, those eyes of his always so stormy and unsure. Once again, all he manages for you is a shrug. He’s hiding right before your very eyes, all hands reaching out whilst slapping yours away when you reach back. A scared, hurt, biting dog. The tendency to howl for your love was beastly and he never stopped bearing those teeth. 

“Please,” A sweet touch to his arm, a downcast to your lovely eyes. “I have to know why you didn’t want me.”

“I did want you.” He says it so fast you have to take a second to process him. Your brows knit, the early stages of confusion and anger bubbling under your skin as you set your bento box down. Your temper was always the first to bloom.

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t have let me leave.”

He swallows, tongue poking out to swipe over his lips. “I freaked out.”

“Really? Because I remember you just sitting there.”

“I know.” His fingers find his mouth, teeth catching on the hangnails he’d worked into the nail beds during bouts of anxiety. “I was freaking out. I didn’t want all that extra shit and then you left and I-...” He swallows again, mind searching for all the words. “I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d really go.”

You have to digest it all for another moment, a pregnant pause as you do. The look on his face that day, so mullish and nonchalant even though you knew with every fibre of his being that he was anything but never left you. Haunted you, drew you away from anyone that shared even an ounce of similarities. You saw his smirks, heard his laughter, saw the outlines of his posture in strangers and it always made you sick to your stomach. 

There’s a thousand questions, now, but you hone in one in specific. 

“Extra shit?”

“Extra shit. Like-... Girlfriend, boyfriend shit…”

“Nam-gyu, we did have girlfriend, boyfriend shit.”

“Yeah but then you wanted to go and make it some official thing. If we already had it, why bother? All labels do is cause problems. What we had… It was good. It was fine.”

Your skin is starting to heat up. There’s a fall to your tone when you slip your hand off his arm and murmur, “Fine, for you.”

His eyes follow your hand retracting as if you’d cut him, shoulders slumping. “...Why didn’t it work for you?”

“I really liked you. I needed all that extra ‘official’ shit, whether you think it’s stupid or not. It meant a lot to me. It meant that you were serious about me, that you wanted me more than the… Fun. we had.” The words leave you forlorn, alive but peaking at the brims with defeat. “I knew I was yours, but… I wanted-... Needed to know that you were mine, too.”

“I was yours!” Nam-gyu leans back hard, terse and pointed with this sullen desperation around him that cried hear me. “I was yours and I didn’t need some stupid name to prove it.”

It’s a tale as old as time, true as it can be when he’s bunching his sleeves up, gripping hard to the inner fabrics, growing frustrated and antsy under the glint of your spectacle. His skin twitches like it’s its own separate entity, like he has to squeeze and clutch and drag to get it to settle back over his muscles and nerves. You’re sure you’re under there right now, worming paths through his veins and into his brain like a sneaky little parasite he could never seem to shake. 

All it takes is a gentle touch to his arm again. Reminds him that you’re right there, beside him. 

And then he’s giving up. Losing his edge, losing his temper but crushing the rolling bites of anger into a simple longing itch of you. He’s trying to clamp his mouth shut but you’re dragging it all out of him anyways, cast by cast. It’s a gratifying satisfaction you never knew could scratch so good. You’d wanted it since the start- all these swirling emotions sputtering from his lips so you could lap up every sound. 

Fingers fall from his tracksuit. You eye him, meet his dejection face to face. 

“Why was being my boyfriend such a terrible thing to you?”

Nam-gyu’s expression falls miles below anything else you’ve seen thus far, somehow. Drawn and weathered, far away down into his lap and hiding himself within the darks of his eyes to escape your gaze. 

“I didn’t want anything to change.” Strands of hair slip past his ear and hang around the frame of his face, further shielding him. “I didn’t think… I don’t know what I thought.”

“Didn’t think what?” It’s like pulling teeth, you find, extracting the bits of him he’d clocked years into burying. You coax him anyway, and he finds your light with compulsory desire. 

“I thought I didn’t want it.”

 “It, or me?”

“It. It really got under my skin. You, got under my skin.” When he looks at you, you can truly see the mask breaking away into shards. A person suit coming untwined as the real him bloomed. “Girlfriend had a lot of… weight to it. I didn’t want all of that, but you then left, and I don’t know.”

And thus, that nonchalant squarecrow he’d planted onto that couch all those years ago is gone in the blink of an eye. You remembered him ugly and defiant in the moment, but you had overlooked the smirk of anxiety. The way he watched every move you made, the way he rubbed red into the skin of his hands with his fingers itching to drive into something, anything to release the tension. 

I thought I didn’t want it.

A weight settles in your chest as the being of him crawls further into your ribcage, carefully.

“...How do you feel, now?”

Eyes travel from where your touch meets his skin, up to your shoulders, and then to meet your line of sight. His lips twitch, parting, but he’s searching for the words. Searching for you, you realize, reaching and begging to be taken out from the cold. 

“I thought you died earlier.” He blurts. It throws you off guard, but your perturbation is only as long as it takes for him to continue with the ghost of fright still saturating the memory. “After the six-legged race, I thought you died, and it felt like it was my fault.”

 “Hold on, I chose to not join you.” Your brows knit, clutching the fabric of his tracksuit a little tighter. He just shakes his head. 

“If you had died, I don’t know what I would have done. It was only for a few minutes, but fuck. I just kept thinking I shouldn’t have let you say no.”

A cross between amusement and empathy shapes your lips into an uptick, your palm dragging upwards to his bicep. “That’s the problem we keep having, Nam-gyu. When are you gonna’ realize you don’t ‘let me’ do anything?”

“Oh, I know it already. Trust me.” A sigh leaves him but it almost sounds like a scoff. 

The recollection of your momentary loss eats at him. In all the years you’d been gone from his life, a ghost turned into forlorn fleeting blips of memories, you could still read him like your favorite book. Line for line, word for word. Every character and detail etched into your mind, a glorious museum packed to every corner with him, him, him. 

There’s this part of you that’s coming to life again, rising from the ashes not so much like a roaring phoenix but this gentle stream of embers singing the tips of your soul. Like an old battery, a feeling that comes from deep, deep, within. The uncanny urge to sooth out all those tensions stoning over his muscles and push his hair from his face as he always does. 

“I didn’t realize you had been that upset, earlier.”

Which is a lie. Truth be told, when you’d managed to find your feet back into that dormitory, the first thing you sought was him. And he was on you, quick, teary and red. In that moment, you could see the way he felt as though he could breathe again. You all the same- this all consuming relief washing over you like a wave from head to toe. 

He was the first thing on your mind when you’d walked in, and he was the last thing on your mind when you fell asleep that night. 

Nam-gyu’s breath stutters as he nods.

“I almost did.” You murmur, feeling the blitz of terror that’d driven into your heart during your round. “I kept fucking up the spinner, and my teammate lied about knowing how to play Ggongi. Because of us, we barely even made it with a second left. You wanna know something?” It takes a second for him to look you in the eyes, but he does, and you smile pathetically. “I remember thinking to myself, man, I should have gone with you. And then you went and saved my life earlier and I felt like such a…” 

He blinks at you, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I felt like such a bitch.”

For a couple seconds, he doesn't react, but when he does, he leans back and clicks his tongue. His lips tuck upwards and he’s trying to not smile- your heart soars. 

“You can say it this time,” You giggle, nudging him. “I won’t be mad.”

Another shake of his head, those black strands falling even further from his ear. “Yes you will.”

Tongue swiping out over your lips, you can feel the energy lifting back up, buzzing and trilling like a spring day melting away the laundering billows of snow. Something blooms there with beautiful petals under the sun. 

“You haven't answered my question.” You chirp. He looks at you, and you’ve got him now, all his attention and all his warmth. Subconsciously, you lean towards him. And he does the same. “How do you feel now?”

There’s a heaviness that adopts the space between your bodies. Heartbeats and staggered breaths moving in tandem, a rhythm you knew all too well. All the time apart, bitter and spiteful and angry, just to realize that he’d never truly left the closets of your soul. You knew him like your own self, knew all his fine tunings and the jagged edges of his resentful anxieties.

Nam-gyu takes in the very essence of you with those all seeing eyes of his. 

“I never stopped thinking about you.” 

The world stops turning all at once when he speaks. 

Oh god, how your heart bursts into flames, unaware of how badly you’d been wanting this. Like getting a taste of the finest wine, or a forbidden fruit, so sweet and perfect and dripping down your chin. A confession spills from you in the stream. Years of snuffing out that licking flame just for it to combust into a raging wildfire at his whim. 

You can’t stop yourself. 

“I haven't, either.”

A version of you from three years ago howls out in retribution.

But then it’s hushed with the doe of his expression, leaning in like every word out of your mouth is gospel. His own personal bible, his own personal heaven. When you tell him, his breath leaves him in a broad rush of air.

A  voice echoes over the speakers, chopping chunks out of the palpable tension growing. Lights out in five minutes. 

For a long moment, you both just watch each other. The raw brunt of emotions is palpable, thick over your mind and body like a sheet of yearning tension. 

But Nam-gyu speaks first after he glances towards where your bed had been, gone as the number of players dwindled and the beds were rearranged to compensate. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“I found a different bed.” You don’t tell him that you purposely chose an empty bed closer to his, but when you point to it, you can see the pleased expression drawn out from the disappointment. 

“If you get nervous, come to mine.” He says suddenly, and you blink at him. 

“Nervous?”

“Just saying.” Fingers catching his sleeves, bunching the fabric up. “You can if you want.”

‘If you want’. He’s learning after all. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m gonna get to bed, okay? I’ll come talk to you in the morning.” 

You say it so softly, like it could wound him. Perhaps it does regardless, however, because the look he gives you in return is especially pained. Hates that your getting up, hates that there’s going to be meters and meters of metal frame work and sleeping bodies filling the spaces that lead to you. He almost grabs you, fingers popping out from under his sleeves, but he reels himself back in and instead leans back against the wall of the step and watches you. 

Leaning down, you kiss his cheek, and you pretend you don’t notice the way his breath lodges into his throat when you do.

.

It’s quiet that night. This weight has settled over like a blanket of smog threatening to snuff you out everytime your breath leaves your lungs. There’s this irritation stuck within you- a certain twist and churn within your guts that makes you shift positions ceaselessly. The present arguing with the past, years of growth and the endless tumble back down to where you’d begun. The mindless, dangerous joy of landing flat on your back under him all over again. 

Laying on your side doesn’t work, your brain far too busy behind your eyes. You give laying on your back one more shot, eyes staring up at the bottom of the bunk above you, but it doesn’t help. Nam-gyu still floods your mind no matter what you do.

Fuck, you still see him. Those beautiful angles and the slopes of his cheekbones, the feeling of dragging your hands down his shoulders to his chest and marking every last inch. 

He’s saying your name within the confines of your skull, the sound echoing through your dome. 

You’re hearing him now, too? Great. As if it wasn't bad enough before. He’s taking over your mind, your body, and now you’re having to audibly hear him like a teasing ghost paying you visits of desire. You’re the same person you were three years ago, for god’s sake. After all you’d done to move on he’s still there under your skin, working his way through the ridges and bumps of your brain. 

“Hey, are you even awake right now?”

Wait- that’s not in your head. 

You launch up with a gasp sputtering in your throat, eaten by the sudden lurching fear of a dark figure leaning over your bed. The knee jerk reaction to scream fails you, as does your strength when the figure leans in close and you try to shove them away hopelessly. 

“Stop, stop! I’m not gonna’ do anything.”

Oh, it is Nam-gyu. He’s just decided to come and sneak up beside your bed like a creep in the darkness and properly scare the living daylights out of you. The sudden plummet of your nerves makes you wheeze out a sigh of relief and you toss yourself flat onto your mattress. Your hands cover your face, dragging the skin down in irritation. 

“I thought I was going to die.” You hissed.

“Come on. Seriously?” He sat at the edge of your bed, and you’re so fucking relieved it’s not some random player coming to sweeten the pot, that you let him without a word. 

“I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Who else would it be? Thanos?” 

“Yes, actually.” You smirk at him through your fingers. “That’d really bust your balls, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t say that shit.” He grunts, huffing. “You being serious?”

He looks pathetic, even despite the way his brows collect in annoyance. You used to find that cute about him- all angry and ruffled on the outside but always this anxious, soft little thing on the inside. So pent up with nowhere to go, clinging to the few things that he gives a shit about but no means to show it. 

You still do find it cute. At least a little bit, anyways. You must because you find your lips tugging upwards before you can stop them. 

“No, obviously. Your friend is fucking weird.” Saying it like he isn’t weird, too, is a funny thing. But his weird is different in your eyes- better. 

You start to wonder if maybe things were changing, again. Reverting and revisiting a side of yourself he’d forced you to abandon. 

You also start to wonder if that's a good thing. It’s hard to tell with Nam-gyu. He has a way of making the things so terrible for you feel so, so good. 

He’s just sitting there in silence, thinking harder than you’ve ever seen him think. The tenacity of him is something new- which is crazy, because you truly had thought you’d seen all the in’s and the out’s of him. 

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice drags him out of his trance. 

The floor lights illuminate a glow in his eyes when he turns to look at you again, those dark hues far away. When he doesn’t answer, and you fully take in the somberness of him, you have this urge from deep within your soul. An insatiable itch that you’d refused to admit to yourself you’d been longing for the last three years. You swallow hard, your mouth opens and closes, struggling to get the words out.

“...Do you want to lay with me?”

It’s like inviting the vampire into your home knowingly.

Nam-gyu doesn’t linger for even a second. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he doesn’t jump on the chance, or perhaps he’d been desperate to be at your side since you’d left him that day. You weren’t sure- not really, but he was throwing himself at your side in the blink of an eye.

Even worse, his arms are already snaking around your body, finding you against himself in the darkness. Entitled to your body, and taking your air with him. A part of you has this immediate suspension- or more like, an experienced worry that those long fingers of his are going to try and explore down your body until they find something all too warm and familiar, but just like the look on his face moments ago, somethings different about him. Something longing, feeling. 

He drags your back against his chest and he cages you in his grasp and he buries his face into your hair, breathes you in so deeply you’d think he’s getting high off your scent. Squeezing you so tight like he can’t believe he’s really got you. He even brings the blanket over you and pats it over your shoulders before he nestles in against your body.

“Nam-gyu,” You whisper, and he hums in response. “What are you doing?”

As if you aren’t actively letting him, as if you aren’t feeling all your tensions melt away in his hold. A puzzle piece settled back into its place after so long it ached. 

His response is quiet, broken up. Words you never thought you’d ever hear leave his lips. 

“I missed you.”

Between his confession and his breath on your neck, you shiver. A full body wrack that makes you crack your eyes open in the darkness. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is equally as wavering.

He just nods and clutches you tighter. He’s never been this sweet with you- not even when things were good. And then he goes and surprises you again for the second, or third, time since he’s slinked into your bed. 

“When we leave here, give me another chance.”

The fence you’ve stuck atop of is mighty tall with a great leap on either side. One side him and all his backage, the other, lonely peace. To go through all that bullshit again might actually kill you. And fuck, you’ve done it, you’re out. You’re on the other side and untethered to him after so long, but he’s so warm next to you, and he’s saying the things you used to imagine in your weakest hours…

“You’re serious about this?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

He can’t say it, but he can nod against the cradle of your neck. 

“...And you’ll be my boyfriend?” You’re chewing the inside of your cheek, putting heavy emphasis on the label, making sure it rings true through that thick skull of his. 

Another nod. Your breath stutters in your fluttering chest. It’s slow, hesitating, but it’s there and you’re rolling over to face him through the dim lights. In this light, you can see certain parts of him that you’d seldom ever been able to touch. This softness, endearment that you caught fleeting glimpses of in his afterglows. Vulnerable. 

Your fingers find the sides of his face and he reacts like they’ve got their own gravitational pull, putty in your hold. Your touch is like warmth in the cold, like shelter within the storm. Life over all else. 

“So say it, then. Tell me you’re mine.”

He presses his lips into a tight line. “You already know I am.”

“Say it.” Dragging your thumb over his lower lip. “Say it so I can kiss you.”

You can see, you can feel the way light soars into those dark, dark eyes. His lips part. 

“I’m yours.”

Nam-gyu’s lips against yours, fingertips ghosting the mound of your cheekbone. 

It’s like coming home again. 

Sweet and gentle and nothing like you’d ever had the fortune of sharing with him. Kisses with him were always so urgent and demanding, but this was void of anything other than the yearn of finding yourself again. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve ever had with him, you think, in the middle of a packed room inches from death.

So intimate, that when he pulls away to gauge you, you drag him down by his collar for another. 

The flat of his palm cups the side of your face, and you hold the fabric of his suit to keep him right there. Deeper, this time. 

Too long for him was a beast of its own entirely, one that grew claws in your nail beds as you buried your hands in his thick black hair and let yourself melt into pools of honey around him. He’s equally so fervent, passion radiating off him like an aura, all hands and twisting arms and his body covering your own. Your back is flat to the bed and he’s overtop of you, so familiar but so different from before. Real and raw. He’s gripping a fist into the pillow beside your head, the blanket shifting off the bunk entirely and pooling onto the floor, forgotten. 

You pant when he breaks away, his hair tickling your face. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, and you’re excited to find his lips at your neck but instead he just kisses your jugular and buries his face within your collarbone. 

You wait for him to try to take it further. To claim the prize he’d really been working for- that sickly-sweet nectar between your legs that always seemed far too eager to drag him in. But he doesn't, and he’s quiet, and he’s breathing in your scent. 

And you haven't felt better in years. Clicked into place, even with the plane. 

“Okay.” You pant., find his shoulders and trace lines down his back, marveling in his twitching muscles under your ghost light touches.

“Okay?” His breath is hot against your skin. 

You pull him from the crook of your neck and pet down his face. He kisses your hand and you can’t stop this foolish grin from spreading over your face. A single nod.

“Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

He stops breathing. 

“For the game… Or, afterwards…?”

“For the game and afterwards. If we make it out.”

All of his weight settles at once, as though you’d pulled the pounds lodged onto his shoulders off entirely. 

“We will make it out.” His brows twitch together, caught between the cocktail of relief and trepidation, realizing that he could lose you all over again. He props himself up over you before he leans back on his knees, your waist trapped underneath his weight. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “You don’t know that.”

The moment you start to get up, he feels the need to flatten you back out under him with those hands of his. And you’re just as happy to do so- watching him towering over you before he lays at your side and wrenches you against his curling form. He kisses the back of your neck, chaste and soft until your skin flutters under each one. 

“Whatever happens,” You murmur, running your fingers over his knuckles. “I’ll stay with you.”

“We’ll make it out. I’ll make sure of it.” One more kiss to the back of your neck before he nuzzles you into him. 

It feels right. It feels like being rewarded, like getting the thing you wanted most in life. You bring his hand up to your lips just so you can dot kisses another his wrist. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”