#anyway. slams that post button

[angel-derangement]

[casdeans-pie]

Your latte art always makes me smile when I see it on my dash

That's so nice to hear thank you!!! 💚💚💚

I always worry when I post them that everyone is secretly like, omg please no more coffees

The whole One Trick Pony thing always rotates in my brain and I get self conscious about it asdhjkshsk

Anonymously tell me something you secretly like or dislike about me

[pileofpawns]

"proper posture" is a myth made up by the government to. to uh. hm. idk actually.

[pathologicalreid]

losing you | s.r.

in which you being in danger in the field elicits a response from Spencer that you're not used to - anger

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, jareau!reader, fear of abandonment, fighting word count: 1.67k a/n: i really didn't like this one at first but turns out now i really enjoy it lol. it's hard for me to dislike anything jareau!reader. anyways, setting this up to post while i chemically straighten my hair, i hope you enjoy!

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and casually leaning against the doorframe. A bored expression planted on his face as he watched you dump your dirty laundry out of your go-bag and begin to shove clean clothes inside.

You huffed, slamming a dresser drawer shut as you shoved socks into your otherwise empty duffle, “I’m going to stay with JJ tonight.” Avoiding his gaze, you proceeded to pack away your underwear—four pairs for an overnight trip.

Slowly, he meandered over to the bed, sitting on the ledge and watching you, “I think we should talk about this.” He told you, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“I agree,” you responded, checking your toiletry kit to ensure you had everything you needed to get through the next twenty-four hours—or more if the team got called off on a new case while you were with your sister.

Spencer frowned at your response, “You agree, but you’re still packing to leave.” He turned his head to follow you as you floated around the room, tossing miscellaneous clothes in your bag.

Nodding, you zipped your go-bag shut, buttoning an additional closure before turning back to face Spencer. “You’re angry with me, and I think we could have a more productive conversation with each other tomorrow after you sleep on it.”

“And I think we need to get our thoughts out now before it turns into a bigger issue. Internalizing emotions like you’re suggesting isn’t healthy,” Spencer challenged, following you as you walked to the front door, setting your bag on the console before searching around for the right pair of shoes. “And now you’re just walking out,” he griped, gesturing over to the shoe rack.

Your head snapped up at that remark, “Hey, I am not just ‘walking out.’” Your gaze narrowed at him as you nearly stumbled over your own feet.

The knot between his brows loosened at your expression, and for a moment, you weren’t in the midst of a disagreement. For a moment, the two of you were two kids who had been walked out on. “No,” Spencer said, his voice softer than it had just been, “You’re right. That was a poor choice of words and I’m sorry.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you paused your efforts to leave the apartment and took a deep breath. “I made a split-second decision, and it ended up saving a little girl’s life. I don’t regret it, but I do regret the way it scared you.”

Spencer kept a firm distance from you, even if you reached out an arm, you wouldn’t be able to touch him. “You should have listened to Hotch; there’s no reason that you should’ve done… that.”

“You weren’t there, Spencer! If you had seen the way he was holding that gun to her temple… if you had heard the way she was crying out for her mom, then maybe you’d understand why I took her place,” you told him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “There had to have been another option, Y/N.”

Maybe there was, but part of your FBI training had been on making snap decisions, and this was just another example. “So, you think I should’ve let him keep that gun to the little girl’s head?”

“No,” Spencer answered, dragging out his vowel. “I just would have rather not seen a gun to my girlfriend’s head instead.”

You halted, eyes widening in alarm as you shifted to a newfound frustration, “Right,” you sniped, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

His eyes flashed with recognition, and you knew that he was well aware of what you were referring to. Last month when he had his face off with Cat Adams, leading to her pointing a gun at his head while he proceeded to egg her on. You’d given him a mouthful the next day, and you weren’t afraid to do it again, “That was a completely different set of circumstances.”

Cocking your head to the side, your nostrils flared, “Was it?” You ask sardonically, “A serial killer pointing a loaded gun to your head sounds pretty fucking similar to me!”

“At least I stayed to talk to you about it instead of running away,” he snapped, both of you escalating in the ways you knew how. You raised your voice while he resorted to the cutting edge in his voice.

You held your hands out to your sides helplessly, “Do I need to put in for a transfer or something? Is this that big of an issue to you?” You could barely stomach the idea of leaving the BAU, but at this point, losing Spencer would be worse than joining a new department.

“No,” he answered instantly, “The problem here is that you don’t think before you act.”

You held up your hand, “I think before everything I do, and I’m sorry that my synapses don’t fire a million times a minute, and I can’t calculate the probability of every outcome beforehand, but I did the best I fucking could with the time I was given.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows curiously, “The best you could? A Glock to your temple was the best you could do?”

“Fuck you! Why don’t you have any trust in my abilities in the field? Why do you all of a sudden do you think I can’t do my job?” You demanded, chest rising and falling with anger as you glared across the room at him.

Spencer flinched at the accusation, the idea that he was just as bad as all of the people who assumed you only got your job because of your sister—the kind of people Spencer used to defend you from. “I didn’t… you’re perfectly capable—”

“But not good enough for the BAU? Not good enough to be a profiler, surely,” You interrupted him. “You know what I think, Spencer? I think you’re scared. I think seeing a gun to my head frightened you, and you’re taking it out on me because I’m the only vessel that you can snipe at and know they won’t leave you entirely.”

His posture changed then, leaning against the back of the couch as he absorbed your words, “You’re an incredible profiler, honey. The team is lucky to have you, you know that.”

Your shoulders slumped forward in response, “Then why the hostility? Why did you snap at me in front of everyone as soon as you found out the gun wasn’t loaded?” You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied his facial expressions for an answer. When you offered to take the little girl’s place, you were under the impression that the gun was loaded, and when the rest of the team caught up with you, they were under the same guise.

It wasn’t revealed that the chamber was empty until JJ made the shot that took out the UnSub, and Spencer had been all over you with worry one moment and wanted nothing to do with you the next.

“Did you feel like your worry wasn’t warranted?” You asked when he remained silent, “Like it was a waste of emotion when I wasn’t in any real danger?”

Spencer shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest self-consciously as you forced him to look at his behavior objectively, “You were always in danger, Y/N. The way he was watching you, the grip that he had on you…”

The UnSub gripped your hip so fiercely that he had almost taken you down with him when he was shot, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises marring your skin when you changed out of your work clothes. “I saved that little girl, Spence. That’s the deal, right? ‘I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.’” You quoted your oath to him, the same one he had taken, “At that moment, it was my duty to save that little girl. She went home to her parents today because of me.”

“You’re right,” he said, any evidence of malice washed from his tone. “You were incredible. You were fearless, and it scared the shit out of me,” he told you. “I—” he faltered, “I’m sorry,” he said, approaching you the way you would a wounded animal.

You shook your head when he held out his hands for you, leaving your arms stiffly at your sides and shaking your head, “No, Spence.”

Despite your protests, he pulled you into an embrace anyway; your body was resistant to him, the way his warm arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against his body. “Please don’t go,” he whispered. “Be mad at me, make me sleep on the couch, but please don’t leave,” he murmured.

Your cheek was pressed against his chest, the wool lapel of his suit jacket scratching against your skin as tears flooded your field of vision. As much as you wanted to resist, this was Spencer. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and taking a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you,” he told you.

Fear of loss. Spencer had been terrified to see a gun to your head, but the thought of having to watch you leave the apartment you shared in order to get away from him was petrifying. “I have to call my sister,” you told him, your voice muffled by his jacket.

One hand was on your waist, the other on the back of your head, fingers threaded into your hair, “Why?”

“To let her know I’m not coming,” you muttered. “She’ll worry, and it seems I’ve caused enough of that today,” you told him, appreciating the heat that emanated from Spencer as he looped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if that’s all he’d ever needed.

[machinemonstrosity]

POOL TABLE | chance x reader

WARNINGS - REALLY SUGGESTIVE , nothing full-on but it's heavily implied , making out , ooc chance maybe , he/they used interchangeably for chance

a/n - i didn't mean for my first post on here to be so spicy LOL?? anyways i'm currently stuck on mobile and wrote this in one night, so i'm sorry if the formatting or writing is wonky!

Chance seemed to revel in your mutual back-and-forths.

Innocent flirting often devolved into heated touches and filthy promises, each empty space or backside of a building becoming nothing more than another surface to slam you against or a spare hand to muffle your whimpers. The stakes only rose higher each time they caught you alone — pushing to see what would get an equal amount of pull in his risqué game of cat and mouse.

What could he say? They just simply couldn't keep their hands off of you!

So when it caught on that you were the one who liked to be pulled, all bets were off.

The pool table you were perched atop of rattles slightly as Chance leans in close, the loose contents above audibly jostling. His hand finds your chin, fingers caressing the smooth skin in a slow rubbing motion. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his other hand splayed across your back, the sensation of their bare arms brushing against you being featherlight in nature.

Their unraveled tie lay loosely around their neck, the first few buttons of their suit vest popped open to tease the muscular expanse of his bare chest. His eyes, although obscured by his shades, drift to meet your wide gaze.

“Tell me,” Chance purred. “How long do you think you're gonna be quiet for?”

Your breath hitches.

God, if only he growled like that more often.

Squirming at his touch, the closest thing to a response you could muster was an incoherent garble. Pleased at your pathetic display, their grin widens.

“I thought so.”

Finally closing what little distance was left, Chance's lips crashed into yours. Their mouth moved with fervor, the hand on your chin sliding to the back of your head. They tug on your hair roughly, forcing his way deeper between your lips with a strangled moan.

Tongue swiping across your bottom lip in a demand for entry, it's granted when you attempt to pull back to breathe – only to inevitably be devoured whole again a second later. The slick muscle tangles with yours, exploring your mouth with equal enthusiasm as the rest of his body. Each needy whine and breathless shudder only spurs him on, a wandering hand finding purchase on your thigh.

Squeezing, Chance takes the opportunity to hike their own leg up, knee landing squarely on top of the pool table. The next soon follows, shoving your body further onto the piece of the furniture to accommodate for themselves as he crawls over you.

He uses the advantage to push you down, your back hitting the cloth-covered surface with a hard thud.

Your lips finally separate a moment later, strings of saliva shortly following Chance as he sits up. They chuckle breathlessly as their eyes rove over your writhing form, chest heaving and eyes glossed over in pleasure. Using a thumb, they gently wipe a stray bead of drool from the corner of your lips.

“What's the matter? I thought you liked it rough.” He rasped, hips settling between your own.

Thighs moving to straddle yours, you could already see the belt around their waist loosening.

Tonight was gonna be a long night.

[dozybeez]

Spin For Me (Pt. Three)

She's the quiet girl in class with a secret life after dark. He's the campus heartthrob who's used to getting what he wants—except her. When a class project forces them together, buried truths, blurred lines, and undeniable tension threaten to unravel everything they thought they knew.

→ part one → part two

→ part four coming soon

pairing: college au! kim mingyu x exotic dancer f!reader

word count: 4.7k

content warnings: slowish burn, smut, lap dances, adult club setting, derogatory language toward sex workers, internalized shame, emotional distress, subtle? size and innocence kink. MDNI

authors note: in no way do I think I'm a good writer. I wrote this a while ago just for self indulgence and decided to post it for fun, so please understand.

songs for this chapter:

- Pyramids by Frank Ocean

- Cold Sweat by Tinashe

- Gilded Lily by Cults

The heavy bass still echoed in your chest as you stepped off the stage, breath shallow and skin damp beneath the soft sheen of sweat. Your thighs ached from holding each spin, and your calves trembled faintly. The crowd’s cheers had already started to blur into a wall of white noise, fading behind you and replaced by the quiet thrum of your pulse.

You were halfway to the dressing room when your manager caught up to you.

He called out your name with that smug look on his face—like whatever this was, the decision had already been made for you.

“Private room three. Some guy just offered triple the other girls’ rates for ten minutes with you.”

You paused, furrowing your brows. “I don’t do private—”

“I know,” he cut in, expression unbothered. “But this isn’t a request. You want to keep your spot? You do this one.”

The ache bloomed in your chest. That old, familiar mix of shame and survival clawing its way up your ribs like a splintered memory. You stood there for a long second, jaw clenched tight.

You could walk. You could quit. It’s not like you didn’t think about it every night when you got home, eyes gritty and bones sore.

But three times the rate.

Two months of rent. Groceries.

The pressure cracked something in your chest, and your voice came out colder than you meant it.

“Fine. One time.”

It was probably just some old creep anyway. Someone hoping to find the youngest girl in the club. As long as it wasn’t your professor, you could stomach it.

You adjusted your outfit. Reapplied your gloss. Pulled the familiar black mask over the upper half of your face—it made you feel a little less naked, a little more untouchable despite the circumstances.

⸻

The hallway to Room Three felt long. The lights above flickered like they were judging you.

You pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Darkness greeted you. The red lights were dimmed to a low hue.

You looked up—and froze.

Legs spread slightly, sleeves of his button-down pushed to his elbows, head tilted like he was just relaxing on some frat couch after class.

But even in the dim light, you could tell. You could feel it in your bones.

Mingyu.

Your mouth went dry.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Your heart slammed so hard against your chest you were sure it echoed.

No. No. This can’t be real.

What the hell was he doing here?

Had he—had he really requested you? Spent that much money on you?

But he looked so calm. So relaxed. Like he didn’t recognize you at all.

Maybe he didn’t. You were in full gear—thigh-highs, gloves, the mask, even a different lipstick than usual. No one ever recognized you. That was the entire point of Fawn.

Still, your body wasn’t listening to logic. Your pulse spiked. Your palms turned slick with sweat.

Even in the dim amber lighting, you could make out his sharp jawline. The slow, easy curve of his smile.

Every part of you screamed: Leave.

But you didn’t.

You walked forward, slow and deliberate, keeping your eyes slightly averted, your face mostly hidden behind your signature mask.

His eyes followed you. Careful. Curious.

The music started—slow, deep bass. Cold Sweat by Tinashe. Something far more sensual than your usual main stage routine consisting of divorced dad rock.

You took a breath.

Your hips began to sway. Your hands slid down your own body, grazing your waist as you stepped closer. Your thighs brushed his knees when you turned, pressing your back flush to his chest—close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

You bent at the waist, slowly, your hands on his thighs as you rolled your ass up against his lap. You felt him tense beneath you.

You kept going, rolling your hips in smooth circles as you sat more firmly against his groin.

His breath hitched.

A rush of adrenaline flooded your limbs.

You arched your back a little deeper, let your ass drag forward, then back again—this time slower, more deliberately.

Still, you didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

“You’re nervous,” he murmured behind you, his voice low and laced with something darker. “It’s cute.”

You swallowed hard and rose from his lap, turning to face him. Your knees settled on either side of his thighs as you straddled him now, chest inches from his, arms braced on his shoulders.

He didn’t touch you. His hands remained clenched on the chair.

You began to roll your hips again—slow, sensual. Grinding softly against him through the layers of his clothes, your body trembling despite the heat in the room. He was watching you too closely. It made it impossible to think.

You felt ridiculous.

Embarrassed.

And yet… something warm lingered in your chest that had nothing to do with nerves. There was a part of you that didn’t want to get up. Not because it was Mingyu, the campus heartthrob. But because it was Mingyu. And even if he didn’t know it was you, you liked being close to him. You liked the quiet way he watched you without touching. You liked that he didn’t laugh when you stuttered and got shy at the library. That he seemed… patient. Here and then.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he whispered, voice truthful. “Except one.”

Your eyes snapped to his.

Your rhythm faltered—just for a beat—but you corrected it quickly, dragging your body back down in another smooth grind. You couldn’t stop. Couldn’t react.

Your fingers moved up to his lips, pressing gently to silence him. Your hands were trembling.

He didn’t flinch. Just kissed your fingertips softly and let you keep them there.

“I won’t talk,” he murmured after you removed your fingers. “If that’s what you want.”

Your face burned. Your thighs were trembling. But you kept moving—hips rocking slowly, drawing tight, sensual circles against the obvious bulge between his legs.

His lips parted. A faint groan escaped him.

“You remind me of someone,” he added a moment later, voice barely audible over the music.

You stopped breathing.

You dropped your gaze to his chest and ground against him one final time, slower now, lingering, trying to finish the set with control.

The timer beeped softly. Ten minutes.

You were about to get off his lap when he whispered your name, your real name. Not Fawn. You.

Your whole body froze.

Your breath caught painfully in your throat. Your stomach dropped through the floor.

He knew.

He knew.

You jerked away from him like you’d been burned. Stumbled off his lap. Nearly tripped over your heel.

He didn’t move.

Just sat there.

Watching you.

You didn’t wait. Didn’t speak. You pushed the door open and ran—down the hall, past the dressing rooms, through the back exit.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you leaned against the alley wall, hand over your chest, lungs struggling to catch up with your heart.

He knew.

⸻

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he booked the dance.

Maybe just to confirm it. Maybe just to see you move up close, without the safety of distance and dim lights. Maybe to stop pretending he hadn’t recognized the way you touched the pole—awkward at first, then ethereal. He’d memorized your body long before tonight.

But the moment you walked in, it hit him like a sucker punch to the chest.

It was you.

Your figure. Your soft, nervous energy. Your walk. Your hips.

You.

Fawn.

Same damn person.

He kept his expression unreadable, though inside he was burning—heart pounding, breath stuck somewhere between his lungs and throat. You didn’t know he knew.

Not yet.

But when you climbed onto his lap? When you bent over and rolled your hips against him like that, your soft curves brushing over his groin with each slow, sensual drag?

He nearly lost it.

You were nervous—he could feel it in the way your thighs trembled against his, in the tiny stutter of your rhythm, the way you refused to speak.

And it only made you more real.

He’d thought Fawn was just some unattainable fantasy. A beautiful, untouchable performer with a mask and a stage between them. And you—you were the girl who made his heart race, with sarcasm in your smile and eyes you wouldn’t let him hold too long. A contradiction. A puzzle.

But here you were.

On him.

Gripping his shoulders with soft, shy fingers and grinding yourself against him in slow, burning circles.

And fuck—you were gorgeous. And so, so cute. Especially when you tried to act like you weren’t shaking. Like your heart wasn’t racing.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to groan. He wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you close and tell you you didn’t have to be scared.

But mostly?

He wanted to tell you you had him.

He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe back when you first told him off in class, or when you laughed behind your laptop screen, cheeks pink, thinking he hadn’t noticed—but now it was like every version of you had collided in front of him. And he couldn’t unsee it.

Fawn.

And you.

And suddenly, every time you’d tucked your face into your hood, every time you’d ignored his flirting, every time you’d squirmed when he leaned too close during study sessions—it all made sense.

He bit back a groan when you rubbed down against him again, the friction dizzying. You were trying so hard to stay composed, even as your body betrayed you.

When he whispered your name, it was a whisper of reverence.

A test.

And a confession.

You froze.

And then you bolted.

He didn’t expect you to run like that. Didn’t expect his chest to hurt the way it did watching you stumble off his lap, eyes wide with terror, mask still on, but everything else exposed—emotionally, physically, completely.

Fuck.

He didn’t move at first.

He sat there, jaw clenched, fists pressed into his knees, trying to absorb the moment.

Then he was up.

Out of the room.

Down the hallway.

Past the blinking exit signs and down the side corridor he’d seen dancers use earlier. He didn’t know where you’d gone—just knew he had to find you.

He wasn’t chasing Fawn.

He was chasing you.

And now that he knew they were one and the same, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stop.

⸻

The cold hit you the second you burst out the side door.

Your heels clacked against wet pavement as your breath clawed at your lungs, coming in sharp, painful bursts. Your mask—your armor—was clenched in your trembling hand now, crushed in your palm like it was the reason any of this happened.

You hated this.

You hated the way your heart was racing. Hated the fact that your eyes were burning. Hated that your lips still tingled from being that close to him. From touching him outside of just brushes in the library. From hearing him whisper your name like it meant something.

You didn’t know what to feel.

And then you heard him.

His expensive shoes hit the pavement behind you, steady, fast, familiar.

You didn’t have to turn to know. His presence was unmistakable.

A breathless gasp of your name escaped from his lips— like he was in pain for even saying it aloud.

You whirled around. “Don’t.”

His eyes went wide. His hands froze halfway in the air, jacket in one of them, like he didn’t know whether to touch you or not. He looked… helpless. Still in that sleek black button-down, eyes soft like he didn’t know how to fix this.

And you hated him for it.

Because you wanted to crumble.

“Don’t come near me,” you whispered, your voice cracked and wild. “I mean it.”

But he took a step anyway, slowly, silently, and then put his jacket on your shoulders. “It is freezing, you’re gonna get hypothermia.”

You looked down. Your arms were trembling. Your stage outfit was barely anything. Your skin was goosebumped, your breath fogging in the night air.

You hated that you were cold. That his jacket—that smelled like the cologne you would crave to smell once more after he left your study sessions—helped.

So when he gently placed it over your shoulders, you let it sit there for a second before shoving it off. “Don’t pretend to care now.”

He flinched.

“I don’t need you to play the good guy,” you continued, voice rising. “I don’t need you to make me feel better after—after whatever the hell that was in there.”

He tried to speak. “Wait—”

“No, seriously. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” you laughed bitterly.

“Little shy girl from class turns out to be some pathetic stripper who rubs herself on strangers for rent money. Must be your dream, huh? Something about the thrill of it?”

His face fell, completely, and you hated that too.

“You think I’m easy now, don’t you? That I’d do anything for the right price?” you spat. “Is that why you offered that much money? ‘Cause you knew I was too poor to say no? Or because it turns you on to play pretend with some dumb girl who sits next to you at the library and then dances for you at night?”

“no—” His voice broke around your name.

But you didn’t let him speak.

“You probably think I’ve slept with half this town, don’t you?” Your mascara was streaking now, dark lines down your cheeks. You were spiraling. “You probably think I’d fuck you if you just waved enough cash in front of me. You have half the campus wanting to sleep with you. But that’s not enough for you. It’s the degradation of paying for it, right? God, I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not—” He stepped forward, but you shoved him.

Hard but he barely even moved. Stepping back on his own accord to give you space.

“I said don’t touch me.”

You stood there, breath shaking, heart splitting open. You couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t handle the way he was looking at you like you were made of glass and heartbreak.

“I hate that you saw me like that,” you whispered, the tears leaving streaks in your makeup.

And then you turned, heels scraping against the concrete as you pushed the door back open and vanished inside.

Mingyu didn’t follow.

He stood in the alley, alone, staring at the spot where you’d been—jacket on the ground, mascara-streaked tears still carved into his memory.

And he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t fix it.

Not yet.

⸻

Two weeks.

Fourteen days of unanswered texts, unread emails, and skipped classes.

You had vanished like smoke.

At first, he thought you were just avoiding him. Understandable. After what happened in the alley behind the club—the breakdown, the look on your face when he said your name—he figured you needed space.

But then you missed your scheduled study session. Then another. And another.

No café sightings. No familiar shape curled into your favorite corner of the library. No nervous voice during lectures. You’d gone ghost completely, and it was killing him.

He sent you everything—paragraph-long messages, quick check-ins, even just: “Are you okay?”

Nothing.

The silence was starting to scream.

By the time the morning of your presentation rolled around, he’d convinced himself you wouldn’t show. He’d rehearsed the whole project alone,and planned to tell the professor you were sick and pray he wouldn’t tank your grade. You did most of the project anyways, while he would sit there in the library making googly eyes at you.

He was never mad. Just worried.

And heartbroken.

So when you walked into the classroom twenty seconds before you were set to begin, Mingyu nearly dropped his notes.

Your usually clean and soft hair was tied in a loose, uneven braid, strands sticking out. Your hoodie swallowed your frame. Your under eyes were darker than he remembered, and your jeans were baggy, wrinkled, like you hadn’t done laundry in weeks.

You looked like a ghost of yourself.

But you were there.

He didn’t get to say anything. The professor called your names, and you quietly stepped to the front beside him without a word.

The presentation went… surprisingly well.

Your voice was quieter than usual. You stumbled over one or two slides, but nothing major. Mingyu picked up where you wavered, and you fell into that unspoken academic rhythm you’d formed weeks ago—two very different people functioning as one oddly cohesive unit.

He kept glancing at you from the side. You didn’t meet his eyes once.

As soon as you finished and the applause from the class died down, you muttered a thanks to the professor, and beelined out the door.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Then he ran.

The sound of your name was yelled from his eager lips.

You didn’t slow down.

But his legs were longer, and you were moving slower than usual—exhausted, probably, or maybe just trying not to cry again.

He reached you at the edge of the courtyard, just past the main entrance, and gently grabbed your wrist.

“Wait,” he said softly. “Please.”

You froze. Didn’t look at him. But you didn’t pull away.

His chest tightened.

He stepped in front of you, moving you just behind one of the large pillars near the side of the building—more private, out of the flood of students filing out after class. His hand never left your wrist, but his grip was feather-light.

“Just… let me talk,” he pleaded, voice low. “Please let me fix this.”

You scoffed bitterly, and finally, finally looked up at him.

“Oh my god,” you snapped, voice hoarse. “You really can’t take it, can you?”

Mingyu blinked. “What?”

“You,” you said, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe him. “Mr. Perfect. Campus golden boy. Everyone likes you—how could they not? Tall, hot, charming. You’ve got girls lined up around the block for you, and yet—”

You laughed, but it cracked. “What, because you didn’t get the stripper? Is that what finally broke your ego?”

“You couldn’t fuck me, so now your world’s imploding?” you pushed, venom in your voice but pain behind your eyes. “I must really be something, huh? That even you—the notorious playboy Kim Mingyu—lost your mind over a hooker who told you to fuck off.”

His heart clenched.

“That’s why you asked me out on that date, right? Made me think you actually liked me for me. But this whole time you were chasing after the thrill of sleeping with Fawn. Paying for Fawn. What an act.”

“You think I care because I didn’t get to sleep with you?” he whispered.

“You don’t care. You just hate the idea that someone out there thinks less of you. That you couldn’t get the one girl you assumed would be easy just because she takes her clothes off for money! What, your dick doesn’t get hard anymore for a girl who doesn’t need money to sleep with you?”

“Stop,” he said, gently but firmly.

“Go post a shirtless mirror selfie and cry about it—”

He whispered your name softly, not a warning but rather a plea for you to just breathe.

“I’m sure your fans will stroke your ego back to life—”

He moved quickly—his large hand reaching up, cupping over your mouth gently, the entire bottom half of your face fitting beneath his palm. Not forceful. Not angry. Just… quieting you.

Your eyes went wide.

“Please,” he said, voice barely audible. “Just… breathe.”

You were trembling beneath his touch, every bone in your body radiating with exhaustion and rage and something even worse—hurt.

His hand stayed where it was until your breathing began to slow. Just slightly.

Then he dropped it.

You looked away again, eyes glassy.

“I’m not in love with Fawn,” he said softly.

You flinched.

“I’m not. I never was. I only started going to see her to help distract myself for what I actually felt—what you made me feel,” he said. “I was… intrigued by Fawn. She reminded me of someone. And then… when I realized it was you—”

“Stop,” you croaked.

“I can’t. Not now.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, big doe eyes looking up at him with too many emotions swirling in them.

Mingyu shoved his hands through his hair, exhaling.

“I like you. I liked you way before I even knew it was you at the club. Your sarcasm. Your awkward little shrugs. The way you never look me in the eyes for more than three seconds without panicking.”

He smiled, soft and sad. He looked at you hopefully, like maybe, this would finally fix things.

A tear slipped down your cheek.

And then you remembered.

You remembered that night, months ago—the reason you brushed him off since the beginning of your study sessions, the reason you never let him get too close. The same reason your walls were so carefully built… until he started dismantling them, piece by piece.

Your eyebrows pulled together—not in anger anymore, but in something far heavier. Pain. Betrayal. Mistrust. He had just laid his feelings bare, but could you believe them? Could you risk it?

No. You couldn’t afford to.

Wordlessly, you wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, the fabric trailing past your fingers like a shield you no longer had the strength to hold up. Then you gave him one last look—full of sorrow, maybe even regret—before turning away.

Walking away from him.

From his feelings.And from your feelings.

⸻

[earthrealsvn]

taking care of you when you're drunk

in which the Haikyuu!! pretty setter squad take care of you during/after a night of drinking.

category: post time-skip!!! (except Suga bc that’s a college!au), fluff, crack

warning(s): mentions/use of alcohol, vomiting in Akaashi’s, perhaps Suga’s and Kageyama’s could be seen as suggestive at parts but i promise they’re not meant to be

w.c: 3.5k all together

a/n: hello! i haven't posted in forever but don't perceive that. most of these are based off of things i’ve said and/or done, except i didn’t have a partner to care for me during or afterwards. as stated above, this is post time skip, aside from Suga’s which is a college!au, so all the boys are a legal age to drink. anyways, enjoy the boys taking care of a drunk reader!

—

Sugawara Koshi

you laugh as you nearly tip over on your way to the bathroom, the sound of your friends cheering behind you ringing in your ears. you had all just started your last year of college and decided that it was worth celebrating. so, you offered up your apartment for the night, fully intent on having a good time before stress came to kick your ass.

another laugh bubbles in your throat as you misstep, landing on what was thankfully your bed. though now, your predicament is how you were to get back up. you give it two attempts and whine when you’re unsuccessful. it shouldn’t be that hard to stand, you do it all the time! planting your feet on the floor, another try is made, but you’re still incapable. tears spring into your eyes despite the fading rational part of you knowing it’s really not something to cry over. the drunken majority of you, though, is ready to throw a full-on fit.

but before you can even make a sound, someone’s taking your hands in theirs and gently pulling you to your feet. a stupid grin makes its way onto your face when you realize it’s your boyfriend, Sugawara Koshi.

“Ko!” you squeal, throwing your arms around his torso and squeezing. his laugh is as gentle as his return of the hug, but the teasing undertone is obvious. “didn’t think you’d show.” the words are muffled due to your cheek being squished into his chest.

“i got off early enough, so i figured i’d come see what my baby is up to.” his lips press themselves to the crown of your head to lay a brief kiss before he’s pulling away. “why were you on your bed instead of having fun, hm?”

you gasp when your original quest is remembered. “had to pee.” you begin a definitely not straight line towards your bathroom, laughing. you nearly slammed your hip into your nightstand along the way, but Suga’s hands placed themselves on your waist, guiding you the rest of the way to your destination.

there’s a brief fumble for the lightswitch until your bathroom light turns on, Suga having pressed it before you. he closes the door to give some privacy whilst you take care of your business, and you appreciate it until you come across a hurdle.

“hey Ko?” he hums from the other side of the door. “i can’t unbutton my pants.”

he can’t stop his laugh, and it only increases at your impatient whine. he steps through the doorway and tugs you closer, deft fingers unbuttoning your pants for you. he steps out again afterwards, letting you relieve your bladder in peace.

“can you button them by yourself?” he asks once the sound of the sink goes off and you groan at his teasing. he gets his answer once you open the door, pants already taken care of. “good job, sweetheart.” he coos, cupping your face and squishing your cheeks.

“shut,” you don’t even finish the rest of your sentence as you pull away and toddle back to the living room. he follows behind, hands hovering above your hips just in case drunk you decides to take another tumble.

“hey, Y/N, we’re taking shots!” your friend shouts from the kitchen and you squeak in delight. the silver-haired male walks into the kitchen with you to find your friends gathered at the counter with the shot glasses in front of them. “you want your favorite?” you nod in response, leaning against Suga in order to have some support.

as the shots are being poured, a noise of realization leaves you. “oh, Ko, you should take some too!” your head tilts back to look at your boyfriend, a drunken grin on your face.

“alright, but not too many.” he agrees, pecking your forehead.

“lame,” you laugh and an endearing smile plays on his lips as he stares down at you.

“well, someone has to make sure you don’t die,” a hand comes up to pinch your cheek and you shriek, trying to pull it off. you’re unsuccessful, obviously; you don’t have much strength when drunk and Suga still has all of his slight muscles from high school volleyball and working out regularly.

you still accept the shot glass he gives you, though, and a friend gives a half-assed toast and a countdown before everyone knocks their shots back, the familiar tingle of alcohol sliding down your throat. you also don’t protest the water Suga raises to your lips afterwards either, taking a few sips to help neutralize the taste.

it’s midnight but Suga knows the party’s just begun.

—

Oikawa Tooru

“i’m on the floor,” you mutter out once more, head falling against the wood of the island. “‘m drunk ‘n on the floor.”

“yes, you are drunk and on the floor, sweetie.” the familiar hands of Oikawa Tooru, your boyfriend, settle in your hair and massage at your scalp. a happy hum leaves your throat and you raise your heavy head to smile at what you think is his direction.

“‘s’all blurry,” drunken laughter laces your words and Oikawa can only shake his head endearingly. “wanna nap.”

he barely manages to catch you as you topple over sideways, body desperately trying to meet the ground. the rest of your friends laugh at your antics and Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a shit-eating grin. everyone knows you’ve drank too much too fast, but your week leading up to the New Year’s party had been stressful and you wanted to forget. so now, here you were, collapsed in your boyfriends’ arms, too intoxicated to do much.

“do you wanna move to the couch, sweetie?” your boyfriend asks, hand rubbing your side. he has to lean in to catch your mumbled response, but he’s able to detect the agreement. “okay, i’m gonna lift you now, alright?”

“uh-huh.”

he lifts you up into a princess carry and makes his way to the couch. as soon as your back meets the cushions and Oikawa’s arms move, you snuggle yourself onto your side, barely able to remember that laying on your back drunk could kill you if you start puking. your boyfriend settles himself onto the floor in front of you and pulls out his phone. he starts to scroll through social media but is quickly distracted by the incessant poking at his shoulder your fingers are doing.

“can i help you?” he raises a brow as he turns to face you, holding back a coo at the sight of your squished face.

“wanna watch—” the rest of your sentence is mumbled but Oikawa figures you’re wanting to watch your favorite show. he decides it’s better to entertain you than have a drunken partner complaining at him for however long. so he obliges, switching to the streaming service and holding the phone where you can see it comfortably.

a delighted laugh slips out of your mouth and the hand that was poking him falls limp onto his arm, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his sweater.

as you watch the show, he watches you, internally hoping you don’t throw up on him you’re sober enough for a New Year’s kiss.

—

Kenma Kozume

your panicked yells cause Kenma’s eyes to leave his game and travel up to you, the spike of concern diminishing as soon as he realized why you were making said noises. in your current round of Just Dance, you’re barely able to keep up with the moves showing on the screen, body tilting dangerously to the right. the friend that’s joining you is doing better in terms of score, but they’re practically in your space, nearly punching you every time they move their arm.

the cat-like boy shakes his head with a sigh and returns to his game, determined to finally beat the boss that’s been killing him all month. he’s so focused on the battle that he doesn’t realize your round is done until someone drapes their body over his, distracting him enough to lose. eye twitching, he turns to yell at them only to see a large, stupid grin on your face.

“Kyanma, come dance with me!” you exclaim through hiccups.

“i don’t want to. i’m trying to beat this—” he starts to turn back to his handheld but stops at the sound of your voice.

“you— don’t you love me?” tears spring to your eyes and Kenma whips his head back around to look at you again. “i love you Kenma, i want you to dance with me!” you’re wailing now and Kenma panics, setting his handheld down so he can pat your head. it doesn’t quite work, however, and the sound of your cries are drawing attention.

“Y/N,” Kenma sighs and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “i’ll dance with you after this boss, okay puddin’?”

sniffling, you quiet down before hiccuping again, “promise?”

“promise,” he agrees, pulling your face closer in order to press a kiss to your forehead. “just give me a few minutes.”

he lifts his handheld back up and returns to his last save before the boss, once again determined to win. from beside him, you wipe your nose on your sleeve (something you can only stand to do when you’re drunk, he’s noticed) and fit yourself into his side to watch. just before entering the battle zone, Kenma glances around to see if anyone’s watching before tucking you under his arms and into his chest, ignoring your giggle of delight.

as the battle goes on, he lets you babble drunken advice, laughing quietly if he finds it funny. you cheer when he lands hits and gasp when his character takes damage, hands clinging to his sleeves in excitement. although he’s ultimately focused more on the game, he still gives you fleeting kisses on your head.

when he finally wins, you applaud him before bouncing up, tugging on his arm to get him to stand. he makes sure he saves before turning the device off and stands up to follow you to the center of the living room. you hand him a controller with a beam while your friend bounces up to join. just before you select the song, Kenma silently sighs to himself.

he hates doing too much physical activity, especially things he doesn’t enjoy doing, but he loves you too much to say no.

—

Tobio Kageyama

a sigh and a “oi, stop squirming!” echoes in your ears as Kageyama tries to help you change. he’s been trying to get you into pajamas for the past three minutes, but you’re making it difficult by moving every time he reaches out to remove your clothes.

“but Tobio, it tickles!” a whine is laced into your words, feet kicking lightly.

“grin and bear it then, idiot. you can’t wear this to bed.”

“watch me you a—” you don’t get to finish your sentence as Kageyama lightly pins you down, forcing your clothes off you and tugging on your pajamas right after. “Tobio!”

he grunts in response, tossing your clothes into the laundry basket. you continue to pout and whine as he lifts you off the bed so he can carry you to the bathroom, setting you on the counter. he prepares your toothbrush and turns back to you, offering a ‘open’ as he holds it to your lips. although a part of you wants to refuse, you’re starting to get sleepy, so you oblige, letting him gently brush your teeth, spitting out the toothpaste when told.

you fall in and out of sleep as he goes through your night routine, and the next time you fully come to, he’s lifting you again to bring you to bed. you hum contentedly, grinning at him when he places you back onto your bed. he returns it with a rare smile that he reserves for you and gets under the covers on his side. he lets you find a position that won’t be uncomfortable for your drunk self before he lays with you. it’s quiet for a while, the two of you taking in the comfortable silence until you speak up.

“i’m gonna be so fucking hungover tomorrow.”

beside you, Kageyama snorts, “yeah, you had way too much,” his hand pats your head, “but i’ll take care of you, i suppose. make you some eggs or avocado toast or something.”

“you can barely cook. you burnt water.”

“that was one damn time!” he snapped, giving you a squeeze, “you distracted me!”

“whatever. jus’ don’t mess up my breakfast,”

“i won’t, dumbass. i love you,” you feel his lips on the top of your head and you finally succumb to sleep.

—

Akaashi Keiji

you dart up from your comfortable position on the couch, hand clamping over your mouth. everything is still blurry and your head is pounding, but the need to throw up is fast approaching in your throat.

“Keiji! Keiji i need—” you pause to breathe, hearing rushed footsteps as your boyfriend pops into view from the kitchen.

“darling? what’s wrong?”

“bucket,” you mutter, hand returning to your mouth. thankfully, Akaashi is a quick thinker, and he realizes what’s going on. turning back to the kitchen, he cringes when he realizes the only thing large enough is the freshly washed popcorn bowl. biting his lip, he tries to find something else, anything else, but your whine has him snatching the bowl and running to you.

he gets there in the nick of time, and you lean over the bowl as everything you’ve just ate and drank came out. he rubs your back in comfort but ultimately isn’t too surprised — you drank a lot without the ideal amount of food in your body.

“ew,” you lift your head and Akaashi moves the bowl to the ottoman in front of you in case it’s needed again. “Keiji, why does alcohol tase funny?”

“i don’t know, love,” he sits next to you as he replies, letting your body fall onto his lap. he knows it probably won’t do much, but he places his hand on your stomach and gives it little rubs, hoping it can at least supply comfort.

your friend rounds the corner and lets out a whistle upon seeing the bowl. you hiss and flip them off tiredly, trying to sleep it off.

“how long do you think they’ll be like this?” your friend asks.

“i’m hoping it’s just for two to three hours, any more and i’ll be concerned.”

“well… they really went for it so i’m just hoping they don’t die.”

a huff of agreement comes from Akaashi. before he can say anything else, you’re launching yourself back up and hunching over the bowl. your friend audibly cringes and returns to the party in the kitchen whilst Akaashi resumes rubbing your back. both of you know that this is the last thing either of you want to be doing at a birthday party, especially the one for a specific owl lookalike.

thinking back to how smashed Bokuto is, though, Akaashi doesn’t think he’ll mind if the two of you are missing for a few hours while you spill your guts into your popcorn bowl.

“i think… i think i want a… a new popcorn bowl Keiji,” you pant as you settle back onto his lap. he feels bad, but he can’t help the grin on his face at how small you look and act right now.

“yeah?”

“mhm. don’t wanna think of puke whenever i eat some.”

“understandable,” Akaashi leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. when he sits up fully again, he mentally prepares himself for the next few hours of your misery.

when you next sit up to vomit, Akaashi is there to rub your back. he’s thinking it might not be so bad until a shout from the kitchen has him groaning.

“hey hey HEY, Akaashi! i threw up, man!”

—

Atsumu Miya

you stared blankly at Atsumu as he doubled over laughing, slapping his thigh repeatedly. on the other hand, you had no idea what he found funny enough to cry over.

“why are you laughing? it’s true!” you give his side a gentle kick while carefully trying to avoid spilling your alcoholic beverage.

“yeah, but yer so honest ‘bout it, babe,” he chuckles and grins at you, “yer gonna make me choke or something.”

“good.” you grumble before chugging the rest of your drink. “but really, it’s not my fault they’ve been annoying me recently.” and before Atsumu can laugh again, you whip your head around to glare at your friend.

it takes Atsumu a moment to realize you’ve said the last part loudly, and your friend definitely overheard. they stare back at you, equally as drunk and aggravated, and the blonde panics. it’s true that you and the friend you’re staring down have been on rocky terms with each other the past week or so, but doing something while drunk is the last thing your boyfriend wants you to do. there’s no chance of a physical altercation (neither you nor your friend can move correctly enough for that), but it doesn’t mean words won’t be said.

“oh, c’mon babe, ya don’t mean that.” Atsumu’s laughter is now uneasy as he takes your shoulders in his grasp, trying to turn you away.

“i’m pretty sure i do mean it, Tsumu.” he winces as you swat his hands away.

“what? that i’m annoying? please,” your friend scoffs, “what about you? you’re the annoying one!”

almost immediately, a shouting match ensues. a desperate Atsumu is trying to stop you from drinking more as your friend berates you, and the rest of your friends are trying to calm the one down.

“i wouldn’t be surprised if Miya breaks up with you because you’re so damn needy!”

“HAH?” he sees it in your eyes, and before Atsumu can hold you down, you’re staggering towards your friend. everyone is launched into a full-blown panic as your friend stands up too.

it’s a good thing you’re both drunk, Atsumu decides, because it’s much easier to catch up with you and stop anything from happening. your friends are dragging the one out, thanking you both for a good time, and Atsumu’s arms are caging you against his chest, ignoring the weak punches to his arms you’re doing.

“babe! what were ya thinking?! ya can’t just start something when you’re drunk, it—” he stops when he realizes you’re now crying, gripping his arms as you struggle to stand. “h-hey… Y/N? baby, what’s wrong?” Atsumu sits the both of you down, pulling you into his lap so you can comfortably bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“you—you won’t actually break up with me, right? you don’t… don’t think i’m needy… do you?” his heart breaks. he knows this subject is a sore spot and as much as he tries to show you otherwise, it still plagues your mind from time to time.

“i don’t think you’re needy, Y/N. i check in on ya when i can because i want to, not because i think ya need me to. if they think you’re needy and annoying for wanting to talk to someone when it’ll help, they’re not a good friend.” you sniffle as his fingers rub at your temples. he presses kiss after kiss to the crown of your head, and soon enough, you’re calm.

and when you pull away from the embrace, the genuinely appreciative face you give him sets his heart aflame.

—

Semi Eita

your water bottle in hand, Semi entered the kitchen to refill your water when he noticed his phone light up in his peripherals. he makes sure he finishes his task of getting you more water before moving to where his phone is charging on the island. he hopes it’s not important — the party you’re throwing at your shared apartment is too loud for a phone call. he’s surprised, however, to see a text from you. you, who’s currently smashed and curled on the couch with your drink.

setting your water down, he pulls up his messaging app only to see something that tugs a soft smile onto his face.

my muse

eita where are u :( ily

the silver-haired male looks up and towards the couch where he can see you pouting at your phone. he watches you type and turns his attention back to his phone.

my muse

i can c ur reeding theis coward

ah yes, your drunk spelling. a laugh bubbles in Semi’s throat as he grabs your water bottle and makes his way back to the couch, sitting next to you.

“what’re you doing?” he asks teasingly, passing you your now refilled water.

“texting my boyfriend,” you say as you take the bottle, taking a few sips. “he’s reading the texts but he won’t respond.” he watches you type again.

my muse

eeeitaaaaaaa :(

a grin appears on his face as he finally replies to you.

Semi

yes, my muse?

he hears your squeal of delight from beside him and you perk up. it’s almost as if subconsciously you know he’s right next to you because you stretch your legs over his and settle against his shoulder. while you have no qualms with showing affection to your friends, you’ve never full-on cuddled up to them like this, and Semi can’t hold back his laugh.

his phone buzzes with more misspelled texts from you, and he makes sure to respond so you can keep looking all joyfully cute whenever he does.

[artdcnaldson]

daddy cat i have thoughts about newly divorced art and a girl who takes her time getting him hard :( and he feels so loved because he doesn’t have to focus on getting it done as fast as possible to please someone

exactlyyyy exactly mhmm

Thinking that he had a string of failed hookups out at bars where he was trying to fuck in bathrooms or in his car and it just didn't happen because he wanted it but his body wasn't cooperating. He was on the wrong side of drunk or the nerves and pressure was too high, and he ended up getting laughed off by the pretty girl beneath him.

So I think he gets away from hookups he finds in a bar or club for a while. Maybe he meets you at a wedding— one of his young cousins is finally tying the knot, and you're a friend of the bride. Sweet, friendly, gorgeous. He probably looks like a creep, the way he stares at you because he's too nervous to actually say something.

Which is stupid. He won seven slams in his career. He's a tennis superstar, a household name. He bumps into you at the dessert table after they've cut and served the wedding cake— the layer he gets is white cake with raspberry filling. You get a slice of the groom's cake— chocolate with espresso cream.

"Hey... you're Art Donaldson, right?" You ask as you take a tiny bite of the cake. When he nods, you smile. "I thought so, but Kayla— that's my friend from high school— well, she swore you were just some guy. So I googled you, and I was like, no that's definitely him. Anyways, do you want a drink?"

You both have a glass of the bride's signature cocktail (vodka cran), then another, before you're on the dance floor together. It starts off innocent enough, but then there's more drinks flowing, and guests start leaving, and the music gets weirdly better as the night goes on. You're both a little handsy and it's not long before you're stumbling back to his Jeep in the parking lot.

It was a post-divorce impulse buy. An impulse buy with a nice, roomy back seat. Plenty of space to tug you onto his lap, pull down your dress, and mouth at your tits in the backseat.

You reach down, palming him through his fancy suit pants. You pause, blinking a few times, and work the buttons of his pants so you can actually take him into your hands. You try to coax him to full hardness, but he's already flagging. He groans in frustration as his body just won't. fucking. cooperate. He wants you, he knows he wants you, he's just... fuck.

"Sorry," he pants, meeting your gaze with a look that can only be read as sheer mortification. "Shit, it's just... this is... sorry—"

"It's okay," you whisper against his mouth, so his stammered apologies are silenced. You spit into your palm and wrap your hand around his cock again, holding eye contact as you slowly stroke him. "Just relax. We have all night."

You mouth at his throat, his jaw. You trail your lips over the shell of his ear and he melts. He's like putty in your hands as you give him all of your attention— give him the chance to relax and work his way up to it. He moans against your ear and you smile. "That's it," you praise, working your hand faster. "I've got you."

[everlastingserenitys]

MY NEXT DIVORCE?

summ. single father sylus hasn't gotten any action lately, until you found him.

pairing sylus x f!reader cw. dilf!sylus, divorcee!sylus, kinda pervy too, p in v, dirty talk, almost getting caught, oral, fingering a/n I really really like this one mmm

cross posted from ao3 ;3

It got to the point where Sylus stopped caring about his divorces.

He never liked any of the women he’s been with, anyway.

Except for the fact he did get one of them pregnant.

After their daughter was born, the wife got bored of him, so she left the kid to Sylus.

Now he had full custody of the child.

But years passed and he hadn’t gotten any action or any new relationship after his most recent wife left him.

He was so close to giving up, until one night…

Sylus was sitting at the bar like it was any regular day. He swirled his glass in a circular motion, watching the drink flow in his glass.

He let out a heavy sigh as he day dreamed into thin air, the sounds of the music deafening his ears and he looked around, hoping to find someone tonight.

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and took off his glasses.

Then, he felt tapping on his shoulder. Sylus turned to the person tapping him and almost fainted.

His eyes darted up and down at your figure resting against the empty barstool next to his. His eyes immediately make eye contact with your miniskirt showing off everything under.

He examined your whole outfit head to toe, it was like you were begging to be fucked tonight. And he wanted to be the one to give you that.

Sylus raised an eyebrow at you, picking up his glasses from the table and putting them back on.

Your fingers graze his bicep and his breath hitches. It was obvious the feeling was mutual. Sylus got up from his seat and threw a few bills on the counter before dragging you out of the bar.

“If you wanted it that bad you could’ve used your words.” He mumbled, his grip tightening on your wrist as he rushed to the car.

The back door flung open and you were slammed in the backseat. Sylus large figure loomed over you and his face inched closer and closer towards you.

“Tell me you want it, please” Sylus begged, the last word slipped out in a desperate whine and it was obvious he needed it more than you.

“I need it…” you sigh, your fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt. You lightly tug on the buttons, letting each of them slip off one by one.

“Damn it, sweetie..” he groaned, watching as your fingers slid through each button, one by one. Eventually each button was off and the shirt draped to his sides.

Your eyes dart to his perfectly toned chest and, instinctively, you glide your fingers along his abs. As your cold fingertips make contact with his hard abs, Sylus was already acting like a puppy who just ran a marathon.

His face was flushed in a bright pink tone and his breath was getting ragged by the second, he couldn’t control himself anymore and crashed his lips onto yours.

Sylus pushed his tongue deep in your mouth, causing both your tongues to intertwine together. His chest was pressed against you and you felt like you were going to collapse any second.

“W-wait! Here?” You pull away and glance around the car, Sylus sighed and looked around the car as well.

“My daughter may be home in a bit but I guess we could go to my place.”

Your eyes widened, “daughter? Then maybe I shouldn’t-”

“Why would I get on you if I had a wife, sweetie?” Sylus chuckled, giving you a quick peck on your lips and headed over to the driver's seat.

You slump in your seat and watch as Sylus starts up the car. You look out the window and back at the rear view window, where you make eye contact with Sylus.

“So, how old is your daughter?” You ask, while fidgeting with your fingers.

“Thirteen.”

“Ah, nice..”

Sylus nodded and switched the conversation. You didn’t realize how fast time passed until Sylus told you, you both were already at his house.

He stepped out the driver's door and quickly opened your door. His arms wrap around your waist and he lifts you off the seat, carrying you to the front door.

Sylus fumbled the keys out of his pocket and when he finally got it out, he didn’t realize it but his hands were shaking as he tried to open the door.

The key slicked in the keyhole and Sylus pushed open the door.

The second the door flung open he placed you on the ground and shoved you against the wall. His shirt was still undone and you felt the hardness of his abs brush against your chest.

Sylus held onto you as his hips rock against yours. His needy lips eventually found yours and he brings you into a fierce, suffocating kiss

Sylus’ fingers slip under your skirt and he lifts it up, your bare pussy was on display for him and he let out a growl of need.

His fingers sunk in your soaking cunt and he stroked it lazily, his large fingers were enough to stretch you out enough. You squirm under his touch and he pulls away, pushing you down on your knees.

Sylus’ fingers reached his belt and he unbuckled it in a swift motion. He pressed his boner against your wet lips and slid his fingers in your hair, directing you to look up at him.

“Suck.”

You grin. Your cold tongue darts to his chest and you slid it down his chest, letting it make contact with his rough, warm skin. Your tongue lingers on his faded happy trail and Sylus let out a needy whimper as his fingers tightened on your hair.

“Keep…going” he groaned, pushing your head further down. Your lips kiss his boner which was already dripping through his boxers and eventually, suck up the mess all over him.

An impatient sigh left sylus’ lips and he pulled down his boxers. His hard cock sprung out in a quick movement. Your eyes widen and you wrap your fingers around it.

You leaned in closer and you slid your tongue against his dripping tip.

Your lips latch onto the head of his cock and you deliberately push his whole length, deep in your mouth. The tip of his cock made contact with your throat and you held back a gag as you continued thrusting yourself back and forth on his cock.

“That’s good….soo good..” he groaned, pushing your head in and out. A whine slipped out of your lips and you grabbed onto him tighter.

“‘m gonna cum!” He moaned, pulling your head away and releasing all over your face. A streak of warm, white cum sprawled all over your face and you chuckle.

Sylus laughed in response and quickly cleaned up your face. When he finished, he lifted you off the ground, your legs shook as you got up and Sylus carried you to his room.

“My kid should be home in ten minutes… let’s make this quick, yeah?” He asked as his glowy ruby eyes looked into yours. You nod and Sylus kicks open his bedroom door, placing you on the bed.

You plop on the bed, your breasts bounced at the impact and you immediately notice Sylus’ eyes dart towards there.

He grabbed onto your thighs as he spread your legs apart. You moan as he aligned himself between your spread legs.

He rocks his hips against yours. The friction of his sloppy cock making contact with your dripping pussy was making you get turned on.

Sylus was already hard. He slicked his cock on your pussy, rubbing himself back and forth until he felt it was good enough.

“Sylus! just put it i-inngh?!”

Sylus thrusted his cock in your hole, not even half his length was inside you and your cunt looked like it was about to rip off any second now.

“Shit…you’re so tight, are you a virgin?” Sylus moaned, pushing more of his length inside you. You shook your head and thrusted yourself in him.

“You sure?”

“I promise!” You whined. Soft begging filled the room and you were getting more desperate by the second. Your hips buck at the feeling of his tip reaching your cervix and continuously pound into it.

“Sylus more!”

“More? Beg then.”

“P-please mo—mmph” your begging was interrupted when sylus’ fingers shoved deep into your throat. He gave you a warning glance and that’s when you knew what was going on.

His daughter came home, earlier than expected.

“Dad?! Where are you?” His daughter yelled. Her muffled voice sounded like it was getting closer and closer.

“I’m here, sweetheart. Give me two minutes, yeah?” Sylus yelled back. He continued to pound into you as his daughter's footsteps faded away.

Sylus pulled his fingers out of you, a gasp escaped your lips as you beg for release already. He nods and thrusts himself into you one last time, letting pleasure spark through you as a streak of cum pools out of him.

He placed his fingers between your cunt and stretched it out, watching his and your cum stream out of you.

He pulled away and plopped on top of you.

“How am I going to leave?” You chuckle, pushing his head away from your chest. He groans and hugs you again.

“Just stay the night, I'll tell my daughter I started seeing you.”

part 4 of untamed desires | sylus -> next work

[hyuniemyunie]

afab simon "ghost" riley x gn reader

(ФωФ): smut, fingering, squirting, semi-public, dom!reader, sub!ghost, reader pulling him aside mid mission, mask stays on, praise, fingering, climax control, explicit AFAB anatomy, oral (reader giving), post orgasm overstimulation, eating out, gn reader

just thought id try something new. my finals r startinggg so I'll be busy for a while😞 I'll prob post some shorter stuff

The door slammed behind you both, the sharp metallic clang echoing off the concrete walls of the supply closet before silence swallowed the room whole. Only the soft buzz of fluorescent lights filled the heavy space between you and Ghost. He stared at you, still breathing a little hard from the last sweep of the outpost, fingers twitching toward the weapon still strapped to his thigh. The shadows danced over his mask, but even beneath the skull-painted fabric, his eyes were sharp, confused—and just a little wild.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered low, voice thick with suspicion. But he didn’t move to leave. Didn’t bark a real command. Didn’t stop you when you stepped into his space and flattened your palm against his chest rig.

You leaned in close. "Been watching you squirm through the whole mission, Ghost. Kept clenching your thighs. Breathing funny. Thought you were hurt."

“I’m not,” he replied, but it sounded like a lie.

“Yeah?” You raised a brow. “Then why’d you damn near flinch every time you took cover?”

His jaw worked under the mask.

“Didn’t think I’d notice?” you murmured, dragging your hand down his front. Not touching, not yet—just gliding your palm over the front of his vest, ghosting over the waistband of his fatigues. "Or maybe you wanted someone to notice. That it?"

He didn’t answer, but his silence said enough.

You grabbed the strap of his plate carrier and yanked him against the wall—none too gently. He hissed low through his teeth, maybe from the surprise, maybe from the sharp press of cold steel against his spine. Still didn’t fight you. His hips jerked forward a bit, involuntary. Desperate.

“Tell me what’s got you wound up, Ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped again, and his hand went to grab yours.

You caught his wrist easily, pinned it against the wall, and with your other hand slid your palm over his belt, pressing low. His hips bucked so fast it made you grin.

“Yeah,” you murmured, dragging your voice slow, “real fine.”

He inhaled through his teeth when you pressed your fingers lower, cupping the front of his fatigues where the shape of him swelled, warm and pulsing through the fabric. Still soft, still shy, but aching. Wet already.

You nosed along the side of his hood, lips brushing the shell of his ear through fabric. “You soaking yet?”

“Don’t,” he growled, low and uneven.

You kissed the spot anyway, just below his mask. “You could’ve pulled me aside. Asked for help like a big boy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.”

With one clean jerk, you opened his belt. His breath hitched audibly. The Velcro tore loudly in the quiet room. The soft pop of his button. You felt the heat rolling off him, heard the subtle wet squelch when your fingers slid under the waistband of his briefs. He was soaked. Dripping.

“Fuckin’ hell, Simon,” you said, almost reverently, fingertips barely skimming over the sticky mess between his legs. “You walked around like this all day?”

“Couldn’t—fuckin’—couldn’t stop thinking—” He hissed as your middle finger slid through his folds, circling the swollen bud so lightly he whimpered.

“What were you thinking about?” you whispered, pressing your body flush against his. “Tell me.”

“You.” It came out broken. “Your fuckin’ fingers. Your mouth. Wanted—fuck—wanted your fingers so bad.”

You chuckled softly. “Then hold still for me.”

Your hand was slick immediately. You worked slow, circling that swollen clit with the kind of calculated attention that made his hips quake, sliding back to tease his entrance before coming up again to rub the tip of your finger just under the hood of his clit. The pressure was featherlight at first, maddening, the kind of teasing that left him panting into your shoulder.

He bit down hard on a sound when you eased one finger inside. Tight. Wet. The heat of him clamped around you like a vice, walls fluttering with need. You watched the way his shoulders tensed, every muscle twitching like he wanted to fuck down onto your hand but didn’t dare. Not without permission.

“There we go,” you whispered, lips brushing the edge of his mask. “There’s my pretty little soldier.”

“Don’t fuckin’—” He choked on the protest. You crooked your finger just so, curling it up into that spongy spot that made his legs buckle, and the rest of the sentence died in his throat.

You moved slow, deliberately slow, dragging your finger in and out until you added a second, stretching him open inch by inch. He clenched around you, thighs trembling, knees buckling slightly until you grabbed his hip to hold him upright. The squelch of your fingers pumping into him echoed against the concrete, filthily loud in the silence.

“You’re dripping, Ghost.” Your tone went soft. Adoring. “Soaking my hand. That pussy was starving, wasn’t it?”

His response was a whimper—full, raw, bitten off behind grit teeth and the mask that kept him safe. His face was flushed deep under the skull mask, jaw slack now, trembling from restraint. You stroked his clit again with your thumb, just light flicks while your fingers curled up inside him, fucking deep and slow.

And then—there it was.

That twitch.

That tiny tremor deep inside him, a stutter in his breath, the first hint that you were hitting the edge.

You pushed in harder, curling your fingers fast and deep now, pounding that spot with merciless precision, keeping your thumb locked against his clit with steady, relentless friction.

“Gonna come,” he gasped, broken, voice cracking. “I—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet,” you repeated. You stopped. Froze your hand entirely, pressed deep inside but unmoving. He writhed, nearly yanked your wrist trying to fuck himself on your fingers, but you held him steady.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please let me come, I need it—I need it—”

You waited. Waited until he was panting again, nearly crying from the frustration of it. Then you started again, slow and gentle. Circling that little button until he was twitching all over.

“Now,” you said.

He shattered.

It started as a scream—muffled in your shoulder, muffled by the mask—but his whole body jerked forward. He clamped down on your fingers, body curling inwards as he squirted, soaking your hand, his thighs, his pants. Gushing. Messy. It wouldn’t stop. You kept your fingers moving, curling into that sweet spot over and over while your thumb pressed in tight, helping him ride it out.

“God damn,” you muttered, watching him unravel.

His legs gave out entirely. You caught him before he could slump all the way down, pinning him to the wall with your weight while you slowly pulled your fingers from his soaked, twitching cunt. He gasped. Shivered. Nearly whimpered from overstimulation.

“You good?” you asked softly, brushing your clean hand over his flushed cheek through the mask.

He nodded slowly, still trembling.

You kissed the edge of his jaw, lips soft against the salt of his sweat.

“Good job,” you murmured. “Fucking soaked me.”

He exhaled hard, dizzy with release. Voice wrecked.

“...Can’t go back out there like this.”

You grinned and wiped your hand on the inside of your jacket. “Then you’d better hide behind me.”

He didn’t argue.

He was still trembling, even as you helped him to the floor, easing his back down against the wall with slow, careful hands. His body folded like wet paper—delicate now, undone. The high of orgasm was still buzzing through his veins, visible in the way his fingers flexed helplessly at his sides, the way his chest rose too fast under the tactical vest. His thighs were slick and shining, still twitching with aftershocks, absolutely soaked with his own fluids.

You crouched in front of him, eyes flicking from his masked face down the line of his flushed, glistening body. Your fingers rested lightly on his thigh, and his eyes—hooded and wide—met yours.

“Not done yet,” you murmured, voice low and velvety. “Gotta clean you up, don’t I?”

He shook his head once, desperate and weak, a whisper of “Don’t,” leaving his mouth like a plea. But his legs still spread for you when your hand nudged his knees apart.

You leaned in. “You say that,” you said, hot breath teasing over the inside of his thigh, “but look at you. Fuckin’ wrecked. You want it.”

Ghost clenched his jaw. You could see it under the mask. He was trying to keep himself from begging. From melting entirely. But then you dragged your tongue over the soft, sticky inside of his thigh—just once, slow and deliberate, licking up the mess you’d made—and his entire body jolted. His hips bucked slightly off the floor, and you felt his fingers clutch uselessly at the fabric of your jacket, scrabbling for anything solid.

“You taste good,” you said, a little filthy, a little too honest. “Been thinking about this since I first had my fingers in you.”

“F-fuck, please—” His voice cracked.

You only smiled. “Begging already, and I haven’t even touched your cunt again.”

With both hands, you spread him open. He was swollen, flushed and glistening, twitching from sensitivity, but your mouth watered anyway. The slick that had poured from him earlier still clung to his folds. His entrance twitched when the cool air hit it again, fluttering, aching.

You didn’t tease. You didn’t make him wait.

You dove in.

Your mouth sealed over him, tongue dragging up through his folds, savoring the way he shuddered when your lips latched around his clit. He cried out, soft and choked, his thighs snapping closed for a second around your head before he forced himself to open back up. You groaned into him as the taste flooded your mouth. The mask stayed on, the whole time, and you felt him panting above you, hips trying to jerk away and grind in at the same time.

“Too much,” he gasped. “Fuck—fuck, I can’t—”

You just held him down tighter, fingers digging into the tops of his thighs, spreading him wider as you worked your mouth in deeper. You alternated between slow, deliberate licks and fast flicks over his clit, just enough variation to keep him on edge. His moans were wet, desperate, barely muffled by the mask now. You glanced up once and saw his head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, hands clutching at the edge of his plate carrier like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

Your tongue slipped lower. You flattened it over his hole, tasting the wet still dripping out of him, and he made a sound like he’d been shot. One of his legs jumped violently, and you had to pin it down with your forearm to keep him still. You licked into him, slow and deep, feeling the way his entrance fluttered around your tongue like it wanted to pull you in.

“Jesus,” he sobbed. “You’re gonna—fuck—you’re gonna make me come again.”

You didn’t stop.

He started to tremble in earnest, chest heaving, moans pitching up into soft little keens that sounded like they’d been ripped out of him. His pussy was soaked again, slick and glistening, lips parting around your mouth as you devoured him like a man starved. Your nose brushed his clit with every pass of your tongue, and that was what finally did it.

His entire body locked up.

“Oh fuck oh fuck—I’m—” he started, but the words collapsed into a high, broken sob.

You felt it when it hit. His cunt clenched hard around your tongue, and a fresh wave of slick gushed out of him, flooding your mouth, soaking your chin. He was squirting again, uncontrollably, spasming with it, hips jerking hard into your face. You held on, letting it happen, drinking down every drop he gave you. He writhed, overwhelmed, body slick with sweat now, mouth open in a silent cry.

You didn’t stop licking him until his legs started to go stiff with overstimulation. Until the mess between his thighs had been cleaned, then made worse again, then cleaned once more. Even then, you stayed between his legs, breathing him in, kissing the soft skin near his scarred hips.

“Still with me?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer for a long time. Then, a breathless, muffled whisper: “Barely.”

You kissed his thigh. “That’s okay. I’ve got you.”

One hand brushed along his stomach, where his vest had shifted enough to reveal the sheen of sweat along his lower abs. You pressed your forehead there and exhaled, grounding yourself in the warmth of him.

“We’ve got five minutes before they start looking,” you said finally. “Think you can walk?”

He gave a hoarse, bitter little laugh. “Not without leaking down my fuckin’ leg.”

You pulled a cloth from your jacket pocket—standard issue, folded for patching wounds, now soaked in him—and wiped him gently. Carefully. Reverently. He flinched, then sighed, and leaned back against the wall again, the fight completely gone from him.

As you helped him re-fasten his belt, you leaned up to press a kiss against the mask over his mouth.

“You taste like heaven,” you whispered. “And you’re lucky I don’t drag you back to my bunk and keep tasting ‘til you cry.”

His eyes met yours, dazed and wrecked.

“…You say that like it’s a threat.”

[mashtatosworld]

eyes on me (4)

summary: jiyong is determined to find reconciliation whilst the truth of the scandal tears apart the peace you'd finally found

warnings: mentions of stalking

It was your day off.

The apartment was too quiet.

You hadn’t dared to turn your phone back on since the night Daesung left. Since the day Jiyong's name had flashed on your screen like a storm you hadn’t asked for - demanding to be heard.

But now, the quiet stretched too long. You wanted to speak to Daesung. Needed to.

You sat on the edge of your bed, thumb hesitating over the power button.

And then you pressed it.

The screen lit up.

73 missed calls. 24 voicemails. 107 messages.

All from Ji 🖤.

Your stomach dropped.

The phone buzzed again immediately - a call, his name blinking across the screen like a warning siren. You stared at it, jaw clenched, then swiped it away. Another one immediately came through. Then another.

He wasn’t giving up.

You cursed under your breath and finally blocked his number. The silence that followed felt eerie.

Heavy.

You never thought you’d have to block him.

It felt wrong somehow - to erase someone you used to share a life with, a bed with, a future with. But it also felt necessary. Like sealing a wound. Or stitching one shut.

You finally opened your messages and typed a quick one to Daesung.

[y/n] hi :) are you free today? maybe we could hang out ?

You hesitated before hitting send. It had only been a couple of days since you'd last seen him, but he felt further away than ever.

You waited.

No response.

Instead, the next notification came from your banking app.

Jiyong had transferred you ₩100,000.

Reference: “UNBLOCK ME PLS”

Another one came through shortly after.

₩150,000.

Reference: “NOT GIVING UP”

And another.

₩200,000.

“NEED TO TALK.”

You slammed your phone face-down on the table and let out a loud breath. A bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it.

Of course. Of course he’d try to buy a way back in. Of course he’d resort to any means. He was nothing if not persistent.

It was desperate. And pathetic.

And worst of all - it still hurt.

You grabbed your jacket and left.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You didn't have much of a plan, but you needed space.

Air.

Anything other than the four walls of your apartment and the ghost of Jiyong breathing through your notifications.

You bought yourself a coffee and walked aimlessly through the streets. You stopped to buy a small bouquet of delicate tulips from the flower shop just because they looked soft and quiet and lovely - everything you weren’t feeling.

And then you passed a cat café.

You paused.

There, behind the glass, perched like a tiny gremlin on a plush cushion, was the roundest grey Scottish Fold Munchkin you’d ever seen. She was chewing on a stuffed shrimp toy with absolute conviction. You snorted before you could stop yourself and snapped a photo through the window.

It felt good to capture the moments that made you feel normal - happy.

You posted it to your private account without a caption.

Not for anyone else. Just for you.

You only had ten followers anyway.

Your old social media accounts hadn't been touched since the dramatic public leak, they were now filled with hate comments and death threats.

But the new upload felt like proof that the day wasn’t completely ruined. That maybe - in small, unexpected moments - there were still pieces of joy waiting for you.

You sat down on a nearby bench, pulling your coat tighter around yourself, and stared at the little grey puffball through the glass.

She looked like she didn’t care about any of it. Love. Loss. Boys who begged for attention through bank transfers.

You exhaled slowly and let yourself smile.

Just a little.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You were halfway home, tulips in one hand and your phone in the other. The cold nipped at your cheeks, wind curling around your exposed neck.

Then your phone began buzzing in your hand.

Dae?

Your breath caught in anticipation as you quickly lifted the screen.

But your frowned at the number calling. It was your old boss, from the production company.

You answered anyway, cautious. “Hello?”

“Y/n?”

“…Yeah?”

“We need you to come to the office. Right now.”

You laughed sharply, incredulous. “Why? Did I leave my name badge behind or something?”

“N-no this is serious,” they said quickly. “The police are here. They say you need to be present.”

Your fingers went cold around the phone. “What?”

“I don’t know more than that,” the voice said. “But they were very clear. Please come.”

The call ended before you could ask anything else.

You stood still for a long moment. The noise of the street blurred around you. The brown paper around your bouquet crinkled in your grip.

Then reluctantly, you turned back toward the city.

Away from home.

As you passed the cat café again, the little grey munchkin spotted you and pawed at the glass with a squeaky little meow. A tight smile tugged at your lips. You tapped the window once in farewell.

Then kept walking.

The second you stepped through the doors of your old building, your body seized up.

The floors still shined. The coffee machine still hissed behind the reception desk. The air smelled like glass cleaner and stress.

But none of that registered.

Because standing in the middle of the lobby, pacing like a man haunted, was Jiyong.

Your heart thudded.

He was unshaven. Pale. A cap pulled low over his messy hair. Jiyong looked nothing like the sharp, golden man you used to know. He looked tired, crooked.

Hollow.

You turned on your heel instantly.

No. Not today. Not like this.

But your name hit the air like a tether.

“Y/n - wait!”

His hand caught your wrist before you could make it back out the door.

“Let go,” you snapped, spinning around.

“Just - just listen to me - ”

His grip wasn’t tight, but it burned. You yanked your arm back like it stung.

“Is this one of your schemes?” you hissed. “A way to rope me in? A ‘GDragon master plan' to show me how sorry you are?”

“I wish it was,” he said quietly. His eyes met yours - dark and frantic beneath the brim of his cap. “I wish this was something I made up. But it’s not.”

You stared at him, heart racing. The florescent lights buzzed overhead.

“I didn’t come to see you,” you whispered. “I came because they said the police - ”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know because they called me here too. I swear.”

You didn’t know what to believe. But you believed the tremble in his hands and the strain in his voice.

He took a shaky breath. “Still... it’s good to see you.” Then, softer - almost reverent, “More than good.”

You huffed, narrowing your gaze. But something twisted painfully in your chest.

The moment was cut short by the click of dress shoes approaching.

A tall man stepped forward, scanning a clipboard, his police badge glinting around his neck. “Miss Y/n? Please come with me.”

You hesitated, looking at the officer, then at Jiyong.

Your fingers curled around the tulips in your hand. You didn’t know why you’d brought them with you, but it felt good to grip onto something real. Your senses felt blurred as you fell into step behind the officer.

Jiyong reached for your back, as if to steady you gently, like old times.

You flinched away from his touch and stepped away.

He retracted his hand, fingers briefly clenching before falling to rest at his side.

You followed the officer whilst your pulse pounding in your throat. Jiyong trailed behind you in stewing silence.

Everything in your body screamed to run. But the truth - whatever it was - was finally catching up.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it or not.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The room was cold, too white, too bright. A long glass table stretched between you and the people on the other side - Jiyong’s security manager, your old boss, and two plain-clothed officers.

Jiyong lingered near the window, biting his thumbnail, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt.

You stepped towards the empty seat warily, the bouquet still in your hand like a shield.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” you said immediately, your voice low but firm as you rested your hands in your lap. “So if this is some elaborate apology meeting - ”

“We know,” one of the officers cut in. “You haven’t done anything wrong. That’s why we asked you here.”

You stared. “Then why the hell was I treated like I had?”

Silence.

Your old boss cleared their throat. “After… everything unfolded, and the investigation into the footage breach was properly reopened, the actual culprit was discovered. That's when Mr. Kwon decided to take legal action and press charges. And that’s why the police are here now.”

You glanced over at Jiyong. His eyes didn’t meet yours. He was staring at the floor.

The officer now took over. “But during that process, we uncovered some… troubling evidence.”

There was a tensioned pause and you felt the weight of it in your chest.

“The man who leaked the footage - he was working as private security here. Contracted through an outside firm."

You listened intently but the words felt jumbled as seeing Jiyong again had dismantled your thoughts. You could practically feel him and his stiff presence lingering somewhhere behind you.

“This man was assigned to camera monitoring. Which, on paper, is nothing alarming. But the deeper we looked, well," The officer sighed loudly and set papers on the table. Photographs. Each one, a still image of you. At your desk, at the water fountain, on your lunch break. " - well he was watching you.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Every day you were in the building. He wasn’t just doing his job. He isolated the camera feeds in your workspace. Focused them. Recorded them. We believe he studied your schedule.”

You felt sick. You gripped the arms of your chair, knuckles turning white.

“He resigned shortly after you were terminated,” your old boss added quietly, rubbing her forehead anxiously. “With no warning or forwarding details.”

You could barely look at them. “And you only care now?”

A beat passed in which no one answered.

The officer cleared his throat. “Initially, we assumed the motive was financial. A leak for clout, maybe profit. But this man didn’t attempt to sell the footage. He just… released it. And walked away. That suggests something else.”

“Obsession,” murmured the other officer, crossing her arms over her chest. “Control. Isolation. These are all tactical ploys of a dangerous stalker.”

You blinked, trying to breathe through the swirl of nausea in your chest.

“It’s our belief that he wanted to dismantle your life. Cut you off from your career, your circle, your... partner." The male officer looked to Jiyong who was grinding his teeth, glaring at the papers on the table. "He wanted to make you vulnerable, easier to approach.”

You closed your eyes, feeling utterly terrified and violated.

The male officer continued. “We’re applying for a warrant to search his apartment, but it appears to have been vacated. We don’t know where he’s gone. Until we do, we have no way to press further charges.”

“So what?” you said, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “You just wait? Hope I don’t get murdered in the mean time?"

“We’re doing what we can,” the female officer said calmly. “But we can't get involved unless we have more evidence. Until then, we strongly recommend that you relocate. You may be in danger.”

“I’ve already moved,” you said with a sigh. “Weeks ago.”

“Good,” they replied. “Although you should still take precautions.”

“She’ll move back in with me,” Jiyong finally spoke, voice low. “I've already increased my security - ”

You laughed bitterly, cutting him off. “Absolutely not.”

He frowned and moved toward the table. “Y/n - ”

“You had your chance to protect me. You chose silence. You chose to disappear. You don’t get to dictate anything now.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t know it was someone dangerous - ”

“But you should have known!” Your voice echoed across the room, sharp and furious. “You should have known I'd have never done this. You didn’t need the police to tell you that. You could’ve just believed me.”

Jiyong’s lips parted, but you spoke first.

“Besides, I don’t want your security watching me,” you tutted irritably. “I think I’ve had enough people watching me.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe - ”

“So you can track me like he did?” you snapped. “Have eyes on me twenty-four-seven? No, thanks.”

His face crumpled. “That’s not - ”

“Just find him,” you muttered to the room. “End this. So I can go back to building my new life. A life that doesn’t include any of you - any of this.”

Silence.

The male officer finally stood. “We’ll update you as soon as we have something. For now... keep your phone on. And stay aware. Surround yourself with friends and family.”

You nodded once. Then turned, and left the room.

The tulips were crushed in your fist. You had forgotten they were even there.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The hallway spun a little as you stepped into the lift.

You pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned back against the mirrored wall, tulips crumpled against your chest. Your hands were trembling. Everything in you was trembling.

The doors began to close -

A hand shot through.

Your heart lurched.

Jiyong stepped in before they could shut, and you rolled your eyes, dropping your head back with a muttered curse.

“Are you serious?”

He didn’t say anything. Just kept his eyes on you.

You jabbed at the button for the next floor, ready to walk the stairs if that’s what it took to be away from him -

But then he moved.

His hand slammed the stop button and the lift jolted to a halt, humming with sudden stillness.

Your eyes widened. “What are you doing?!”

He turned, planting himself in front of the panel, feet spread and shoulders squared as if he was guarding it. “I need to talk to you. Just for a second.”

“I don’t care,” you scoffed. “Get out of my way.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low, thick. “For everything. For cutting you out. For doubting you. For not picking up when you needed me. I’m so sorry. But please… don’t let your anger blind you.”

You crossed your arms tightly, jaw locked.

“You’re safer with me,” he said quietly. “Or at least… with my help.”

You shook your head, venom in your voice. “Your help? You mean the same help that disappeared the second things got hard? The help that left me alone in this mess?”

He flinched like you’d struck him.

“You don’t get to use fear to claw your way back into my life, Jiyong,” you muttered sharply. “I don’t want you. I don’t want your help. I don’t even want to look at you.”

You moved to shove him aside, reaching for the buttons -

But he stood firm.

And now that you were close, you could see it.

His eyes - glassy, rimmed red, pooling with unshed tears. His jaw trembled, lips parted like he couldn’t quite breathe.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Jiyong whispered. “But I'm going to. Please. I’m begging you, just let me help. Don’t shut me out completely.”

The desperation in his voice caught you off guard.

So did the way your chest pulled toward him, even as your brain screamed not to.

You stepped closer. So close you could see the dark half-moons beneath his eyes. The air between you tightened, heated. His scent hit you like a memory - clean, citrusy, a little cologne, and a lot of cigarettes.

“I’m scared,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

That was all it took for his arms to wrap around you instantly, like his body had been aching to do it since the moment he saw you again. Strong, trembling.

Familiar.

You let yourself lean in to his warmth. He still knew exactly how to comfort you - that you liked your hair to be smoothed down, a warm hand to cradle your lower back, his breaths syncing with your own.

Just for a moment.

Your eyes closed. Heart thundering and skin tingling.

But only for a moment.

With a quiet breath, you slipped an arm behind him - and pressed the button to restart the lift.

It jerked back into motion. And the moment was over.

You stepped out of reach just before the doors opened, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

And without another word, you hurried out.

Leaving him alone inside the cold metal box.

The minute you stepped outside and your phone connected to signal again, you rang the only person you wanted to hear from right now.

He picked up on the third ring.

"Hi,"

"Hey... is everything ok? Sorry, I only just saw your message now," Daesung said, as the biting wind from outside hit your face.

"Yeah, uh, I'm all good. Just - will you stay on the phone with me? I'm walking home," you murmured, clutching the device tighter. You had rarely feared walking alone in the day time until now.

"Of course. Are you sure you're ok? Did you want to talk about something in particular?"

You continued your fast pace, eyes glancing around at your surroundings as people passed by, going about their own day.

"No... I don't have much to say. Tell me about your day instead."

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

im sorrryyyyy i've been so inactive - these assignments are busting my arse. anyway, i hope you keep safe, happy and healthy,

love always,

mash xxx

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen , @heartubeatusalon , @imminsugasgf

[aninipanin1]

Haiti I love that your writing for the masters omg (no one write for them)

Anyways I was wondering if you can write about master hanging out with manager yn! Outta blue lock, like they get weekends off and she gets taken on date

^_^ thank you

DATE WITH WHO?!

Notes: Soo I chose Snuffy with this one, mainly just a random pick. Since I already made a post with Lavinho, it's Snuffy's turn. The others would have their time to shine, don't worry! Its also one of my most favourite piece I ever wrote on this blog, legit squealing at some parts lol. Also, the arts and other places in here may not be accurate since I don't live in Japan nor am I Japanese, so just a small warning. Hope you enjoy!

"You're going on a date with who?!" Anri said, slamming her palms on the desk of the table, her eyes wild and wide as if the news was something to be panicked over. You tilted your head at the reaction.

"With Snuffy-san, but I don't really consider it a date. It's just a hangout since he said he saw a museum in Kamakura and wanted to sightsee, so I'll take him there!"

Anri nodded and sat down before sending a haphazard look towards Ego, whose glasses fogged the look in his eyes. He doesn't look too happy, and who would be? That guy managed to score a date with you even if you two hadn't known each other for more than a few months, yet he has known you ever since the beginning of Blue Lock.

But, the bright smile on your face managed to win him over as he sighed. He knew you were a huge enthusiast of the arts and science, so going to a museum is probably something you would really like, especially since its a once in a lifetime for the JFU to give you two days of rest.

"Go on, the bus provided to you is arriving in a few minutes." With that, he turned his chair again to face the screen, acting unbothered. You bowed to both him and Anri and scurried away.

Anri raised an eyebrow at Ego and sighed.

'His stubbornness is not helping his case at all...'

"Snuffy-san! Good morning!"

You greeted the man who awaited you in the train station. It was your first time seeing him wear something casual, with a simple button-up shirt and slacks, his usual headband on his head, but in a simpler color. You felt like you overdressed, as you look down on your own outfit.

Instead, he just gave you a warm smile.

"Good morning, Y/n. I assume you're ready for today?"

"Yup! I'm as ready as I can ever be!"

He chuckled lowly at your enthusiasm, he was more than satisfied that his questioning of the Blue Lockers under his wing about your interests and likes led to this. Niko, being one of the closest players to you, mentioned your love for arts and science, even telling him how you have been wanting to visit a certain museum in Kamakura for a while now.

And so, he made sure that he got to ask you first thing in the morning when he heard you will be having a few days of break just so he take you there. He extended his hand to you, making sure to be subtle yet romantic as possible to set a tone that you won't feel awkward at all.

"Shall we go, mi'lady?"

You let out a laugh at his actions and words, happily taking his hand that was hilariously larger than yours. And with that, the day begun with a huge promise between the two of you.

The museum did not have many people, and it was a weekday, so both of you did not experience much hassle with the registration and the tour around the museum. Your mouth was hung in awe. The colors and shapes the museum offered felt so beautiful in your eyes. Your brain was hungry for information about each piece, wondering what the history and significance behind it was.

Walking up to one of the canvases that had an ethereal painting of a man and woman in the traditional Ukiyo-e artstyle, the colors and uniqueness popping in the woodblock. It felt ethereal yet a little melancholic, like there was a deep love stoeu that brewed between the two muses in the painting. Turning to Snuffy, who also looked at the painting from beside you and asked a question mindlessly.

"Snuffy-san, do you think they ended up together? I hope they did..."

The man could not help but let out a small laugh at the wistful expression in your face, finding it adorable that you felt such deep emotions with a painting.

"Hmm, we don't know. There isn't a description either if the people in the painting were really true people once. I guess its up to our imaginations now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I agree..! Then I imagine that they did end up together, and well got married and whatever legacy they left behind as a couple!"

Snuffy smiled at that. Ah, how optimistic of you. For someone who can be pragmatic at times, you are quite the hopeless romantic. This trip was really useful in him getting to know you, huh?

With this knowledge, he knows how he'll start to slowly win you over. Extending his hand to hold your wrist gently, he gave you a comforting yet charming smile, one that would make any girl sheepish.

"Lets look at another artwork, shall we?"

"U-uh...sure!" You were definitely taken aback by his touchiness, but since he was so polite with it at the same time, you could not help but get a bit shy.

The museum had a lot to offer, having 3 floors filled with different works of art and inventions with interesting meanings behind it. You both shuffled closer at a seemingly new exhibit with a worker explaining the background of the large artpiece that was painted on a large wooden canvas.

"This is called the "Art of Two Hearts" by an unknown artist in the year 1786. The many colours depict the wonders of the emotion of love, specifically, one that is new. The blue represents the trust and peacefulness you feel with the other, the red represents passion and love, the yellow represents the dreams and hopes, and finally, this pink thread represents the two hearts connecting, pulling itself towards the other, hoping that the other responds the same. It masterfully depicted the feeling of realization, when you look at that person and in your mind you say: "Yes, he or she is the one."

Everyone was focused on the words of the lady, curiousity in their eyes as they looked back at the large canvas. Sure, it was hard to understand at first since it was an abstract art, but when explained, the colours and cloud like texture of the paint made so much sense, especially to those who have experience the feeling, that is love.

And Snuffy himself believed that maybe, just maybe, he is currently experiencing it too. The cloudy feeling of butterflies in your stomach and chest, the colourful view of the world, the feeling of trust in someone because she has proven to him that she was a person filled with nothing but kindness to him and everyone else. The feeling of love and passion that he never felt for anyone else in his life, at least, not in this way. The feeling of hope that maybe, just maybe he had a chance, that even is hes not the best in the world, and like all the other men who wanted you, you would still turn your attention to him.

The pull of his heart from yours like a string, trying its best to combine with yours, that your heart hopefully does not resist the pull and find another string and instead run to where his heart is-

Shit. He's screwed, isn't he?

"You didn't have to take me here too, Snuffy-san."

You said, feeling a little embarrassed as you looked at the man who sat infront of you, the two of you waiting for your orders.

After scouring the museum and noticing that it was lunchtime, he insisted on taking you to eat before dropping you back to your house. The said man gave you a smile, his chin on his hands that was propped up on the table.

"I wanted to, Y/n. Don't be embarrassed or shy, I asked you to accompany me to this museum, so it's the least I can do."

"Oh no, its nothing! I really enjoyed it today, very much so, Snuffy-san! If I were to be honest, I was so surprised you wanted to go to this specific museum because I have always wanted to go here, so accompanying you was like killing two birds with one stone!"

'I know about that already..'

"Really? Then I'm happier that it ended up that way. Hmmm..."

He looked at you, like he was currently thinking about something before finally opening his mouth.

"May I ask, if youre comfortable with speaking English?"

You blinked at the question. It was not bad, but it was a little surprising and confusing as to why he would ask all of a sudden, but you nodded anyways.

"Yup, I'm fine with conversational English. Why do you ask, Snuffy-san?"

"Then will it be fine, if we take our earpieces off? I want to hear your real voice when talking to you just for today, instead of this artificial copy of your voice."

Snuffy did not really like the fakeness of the voice. Sure, it sounded like your real voice, but it was still a bit robotic. The emotions and line delivery were too perfect, hence the problem. He wanted your real and raw voice. With all the emotions, imperfections, and thoughts. Not the polished and fake saccharine tone of the earpiece that got rid of the real sweetness in your tone and pronounciation.

So, a compromising language such as English will do for him. And luckily for him, you do not seem to mind, atleast from the look of the genuine smile on your face.

"Of course! I don't mind let me just-"

You pulled out the case from your pockets, and just as you were about to plug out the earpiece yourself, Snuffy did it for you. Leaning himself further to your figure across the table, he tucked your hair behind both of your ears before plugging out the earpieces from your ears and placing them back to the case that your frozen hand held up.

Your cheeks immediately warmed like it was set on fire, eyes wide like saucers, never having been that close, nor did a man ever do that to you before, you were definitely more than shocked. You felt like the female lead of some sort of romance novel or a shoujo manga, like for that moment the world slowed down.

It was not that you had any romantic interest towards Snuffy. You had great respect for him as a coworker and a great football player, but he did not exactly make his case easier, being an attractive man. That's the part where you can not even lie. Hell, he had a lot of fangirls, and that must mean something.

But, you shook your head. He was just being a gentleman. That was it. And with that thinking, you managed to move on with what he did. The flustered fire on your nerves dimmed down, finally managing to calm down.

Before you can acquire what just happened, the waiter arrived with the tray of food in his hands.

Unbeknownst to you, however, that Snuffy was as flustered at what he did, but he hid it behind his usual calm and gentle appearance.

He had been with many women, yes. But, none of his relationships ever had this type of build-up and romance. One, so innocent yet so genuine, with nothing like lust, money, or fame attached to it. Just pure romance. And he was so flustered with this feeling.

Admittedly, he felt a bit embarrassed that he was feeling this way. But, he wondered, should he blame this to him for not being experienced about this kind of love before. Or did this feeling just feel this jittery and exciting? Is this why teenagers would act the way they did with their crushes, because they felt this innocent type of admiration and love for someone? Not because there were things attached to the word love?

Damn, he really is in trouble, isn't he? He was here for football, not for romance. Yet, he found that here, in the most unlikely place he thought he would find it.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

UBERS

"Good for him. Our coach is the one with the most balls to ask Y/n-san out." Barou commented as he looked at Niko's phone, reading the comments as well.

"Yeah, but I can't get rid of the picture of Chris Prince, Lavinho and hell maybe even Noel Noa crashing out just because of this." Niko said laughing at the thought of the reactions of the other coaches at the fact that Snuffy was the first one to ask you out on a date.

"I would laugh, glamourously, of course." Aryu said as he dried his hair. Meanwhile, Oliver, who was beside him, was just laughing at the many comments under the post. Especially, those that thought this was a soft launch of you and their master's supposed "relationship."

"Nah, thinking about the other coaches being jealous at this fact makes me a little satisfied." Oliver said smugly as if he was the one who accomplished something, which Niko and Barou of course commented about snarkily.

MANSHINE CITY

"Why is he so loud?" Nagi grumbled, awakening from his nap as he looked at a very angry Chris Prince being calmed by Reo, sleepily.

"Its cause Snuffy-san from Ubers posted a picture of Y/n-san after a supposed date." Chigiri laughed as he showed his phone to Nagi, who squinted at the bright blur of the phone before the photo of you sinked in his mind.

"Hmm...good for Y/n-san, she looks like she's enjoying...but why is Prince pissed?"

"Because he's jealous he wasn't the one who asked her out first, duh." Chigiri pointed out the obvious, laughing at the pissed coach and a miserable Reo.

"Look, you have to calm down-"

"I AM CALM!"

Reo rolled his eyes at the coach's clearly angry face from his eyes and clenched eyebrows, and the veins that popped in his neck and forehead.

"Yeah, you are...but it's not like you can't ask her out after this. From the looks of it, and I think from Y/n-san's obliviousness, it was just a date, no confirmation of a relationship. I don't even think she thought this was a date when she went." The purple-haired striker said, hoping it would calm the restless blonde master.

"I guess...but you don't get it, Reo! She'll think I'm not original, which is bullshit by the way! I can be so much more original and charming and romantic than that...guy! Just he wait-"

He kept rambling, making Reo sigh as he continued to listen to whatever his ciach had to ramble about him planning an even better date or being a better guy for you.

'I knew this won't end well.'

BARCHA

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" The Barcha members flinched at the sudden outburst of their coach, who was scrolling on his phone.

'Ah shit, he finally found out.' All of them simultaneously thought and sweatdropped. It was a little scary how everyone thought he would react the way he already was, well except a happy Bachira, who was more than pleased that it was one of the more 'trusted' coach that you went out with.

"WAS NO ONE PLANNING TO TELL ME?! Oh my poor Y/n, she was definitely bored with that guy taking her out!" Lavinho cried out as he scrolled through the pictures. You looked really pretty (as you always are), but he felt regret and disappointment that it was not him you were with at that moment.

"Because we onow you'd react like this, coach." Otoya said cooly. Lavinho just shrugged off that answer and continued scrolling at the comments, which was a bad idea since the innuendos of the people pissed him off even more.

"NOPE! NOPE! NO ONE IS SOFT LAUNCHING CRAP! NOT UNTIL I GET TO ASK HER ON A DATE!"

"Sheesh...atleast he didn't throw a larger tantrum over this." Kitsunezato said before the rest of the team just ignored him, continuing whatever they were doing before their coach interrupted them.

BASTARD MUNCHEN

"Damn, Noa-san is so much more harsher and colder today, huh?" Hiori commented as everyone panted after a much tougher training than usual under the number one striker in the world's wing.

"What's got him in a bad mood, I wonder, I wonder?" Kurona added, very much curious as to why the coach was in such a bad mood, well enough to make Ness and Raichi run around the whole facility 10 times just cause they were arguing over something petty.

"I may have an idea." Yukimiya said as he pulled out one of the facility's tablet's before opening up the app and showed the post Snuffy made about you and a hangout, translated date.

"Oh, yeah...I get it now." Hiori said, as Kurona nodded. It was not much of a surprise that everyone around the team knew how their master felt about you. Isagi, who just finished his own lap, looked at the post and let out an 'ah' of realization.

"What are you all gossiping about?" Most of them let out a shriek as they found the usual cold gaze of their coach. Their heads turned around to face Noel Noa who's gaze hardened even more when he saw the same post he saw that morning that made his breakfast taste bitter and the stress around the facility annoying.

"Return to training or else, you'll all follow Ness and Raichi around the facility."

"Yes sir!"

PXG

"Yeah, I get it-"

"NO, YOU DON'T LOKI! THAT'S WHY YOU BETTER MAKE SURE THAT GUY BETTER STAY AWAY FROM HER!"

"Roger that, Mr. Blake."

"Good!"

Loki sweatdropped at the call as it ended before sighing and shaking his head. Turning his attention to his team, he raised an eyebrow when they saw that all of them (except for Rin who minded his own business) stopped doing what they were doing and instead was eavesdropping on his earlier phonecall.

"What the hell are you all doing? Start preparing for training!"

"Aww come on! Tell us what's happening! Thats Adam Blake right? I remember him from when we played against you guys in the second selection." Shidou said, pointing finger guns at Loki as the French master sighed.

"Its something petty. Remember Ms. Y/n's date with Snuffy like yesterday? Yeahh the rest of the World 5 found out about it and they all contacted me. Luna called me, then Silva, then Cavassos then finally what you heard earlier, Blake."

This made the players, mostly Shidou and Charles laugh. They now get it. Especially since they saw Ness and Raichi passing by their stratum in a jog. Now they get why, they probably pissed their master even more and got a punishment.

"Well, I'm just glad our stratum isn't involved in this mess." Karasu said, shrugging before focusing his attention on tying his cleats for practice.

"It's entertaining though! I like it!" Charles said mischievously which only made Loki glare at him.

"Yeah, yeah, you guys enjoy this because you aren't the one being called left and right by these scaredy cats of adults."

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[littlenightma]

Run, Rabbit, Run | Thomas Hewitt x Female!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s Note: *slams post button* Here you go, sluts *evil cackle*

Warning tags: Primal kink, chase kink, breeding kink, lots o’ smut.

The Texas sun kissed your sweat-soaked skin with a harsh pressure of a thousand blow torches. His heavy breathing and roaring of his chainsaw pushed you forward, to keep going no matter what stood before you, but the persistent throbbing between your legs teased the resilience of your rapidly depleting willpower.

Miles separated you from the farm house and separated you from the rest of civilization. Oceans upon oceans of rocky dirt, dying grass, and the occasional road kill were all that could be seen.

The radiating sun, which had been sitting proudly in the sky to the East, now sat lamely in the West beginning to hide beyond the horizon. The ivory moon would force away its suffocating heat, providing the barest of illumination, increasing your chances at escaping.

A small part of you wished the sun would stay out and light up the world just a little while longer.

“You’re so polite for someone your age. You remind me so much of my boy Thomas.”

“If he’s anything like you, ma’am, he has to be the sweetest boy around.”

He was a six foot tall mountain of muscle and power, running with the determination of a blood hound tracking the scent of a wounded animal. When you thought you had successfully outsmarted him by suddenly changing directions within the tall, golden thickets at the last second, he’d still be barreling after you, unphased, no further than he was before.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, but impressionable nonetheless, where he had been so close to getting a hold of you. So close, the slight breeze from his hand attempting to grab your hair raised your skin, sucking the breath from your chest as you narrowly dodge him.

And that made things even more thrilling.

His grunts of frustration were muffled by his mask and the tight curve of his bottom lip. The lip jutted out awkwardly and looked as if it had been stung by a bee the way it was swollen.

Deformed.

And this deformed man was coming after you.

To him you were an outsider. A pest that needed eradicating. Even though his Mama willingly invited you into their home, he made you feel as if you were trespassing anyway. He wanted to kill you then and you were sure as shit he wanted to now, probably more than ever seeing how you keep escaping him.

She’d had asked him to keep you alive so assuming that he’d follow through with her request, your life would be spared, but for what sick reason? Would death be more lenient than what they had planned for you?

Of all days for your tire to blow out…

“Here he comes now,” said the woman, smiling expectantly as the basement door opened and out from the darkened staircase came Thomas.

The boy, no man, stood protectively behind the older woman. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching you with narrowed eyes that were partially covered by a curtain of black, curly hair. To you, they looked like snakes ready to strike, and so did he.

His nose and lower half of his face was covered by a worn, leather mask that wrapped around the base of his head with thick straps. It looked uncomfortable to wear as it was was to look at.

He was not pleased to see a stranger sitting in his living room and you wanted to sink deeper into the faded couch and disappear. Maybe if you pushed against the cushions hard enough.

A muffled scream came from the basement. Luda Mae glanced up at her son then back to you. Your back straightened.

“What was that?”

She smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing, dear.”

Again, the basement door opened, and out came a man in a Sheriff’s uniform. Fresh blood splattered across his chest and arms, trickling down as he sauntered his way into the room.

“Who in the hell is this pretty thing?”

Time slowed down and so did your breathing. All three had you pinned with various stares ranging from curiosity, understanding, and searing contempt. You weren’t going to risk it. You jumped from the couch and hauled ass out the door, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“Son of a bitch,” said Hoyt. “Boy, go get her before she causes us any trouble.”

Luda Mae grabbed Thomas’ hand. “Keep this one alive, baby. She’ll be good one to have around.”

Thomas wanted to argue his Mama’s odd request, but the sweet smile she gave him and the gentle way she held his hand made him reconsider. He didn’t want her, that’s for damn sure, but whatever his Mama wanted, she’d get.

In the midst of your recollection you realized it was ominously quiet behind you. Peering back, he was no longer running after you. I’m fact, he wasn’t there at all.

You spun around, eyes frantically searching the desolate landscape. He didn’t just vanish into thin air, not a man of his size, yet he had. The weeds danced and suddenly parted, revealing him on all fours as he pushed himself off the ground, propelling into you with a gut-wrenching force, knocking you onto your back.

His full body weight had you pinned, flattening the dry brush beneath you. His barrel-chest heaved and his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing. As frightened as you were, a strange sense of relief washed over and the instinct to raise your hips overtook you.

He tried moving away, but your legs locked him in. You awkwardly shimmied your shorts down and he watched you. His anger dissipated, replaced by hunger the more of your thighs he saw.

You captured his curious gaze, “Look how wet you made me.”

Your hand reached down and massaged your aching pussy through your sodden underwear. You were a mess, physically and mentally, and if you didn’t get fucked soon you were going to go rabid.

“Thomas, please. Don’t make me beg for it. You know what I want.”

Hearing his name revved him up like an engine. He could practically smell you through his mask. Your pussy glistened beneath the moonlight and he was more than willing to comply. With one hand still around your throat, he used the other to hastily unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

He roughly pushed your soaked panties aside and thrusted roughly inside you with a loud grunt. It was swift and had you not been as wet as you were you knew it would have hurt more than it did. You gasped and cried out, pounding your fist to the ground. He fucked you like an animal. It was exactly what you’d been yearning for and if felt so fucking good to finally get it.

His hips bucked with a mighty strength, sending you backwards every time. It made it hard for him to keep himself inside you without having to adjust his position. He scooped you up like a rag doll and pinned you against a tree, folding you between it and his body. The change in position was too much as the angle allowed him to reach new depths inside you, hitting spots you never knew you had, sending you over the edge.

Your climax arrived so suddenly that it left you silently shaking and clinging to Thomas. Your pussy clamped down like the jaws of a lion and he growled, spilling his seed inside you from the tightness.

He laid you both down on the ground with your back to him. You took the time to catch your breath and settle down, but Thomas had other plans. He raised your top leg in the air, spreading you wide and began pumping again.

“Slow, Thomas. I’m really sore.”

Not thinking he’d actually do as you asked, you were surprised at the gradual way he eased his thick cock back into your pussy, keeping a close eye on your face. Although you were too spent to cum again, you nestled back against his chest and idly enjoyed his thrusts.

“Just like that, Thomas. Oh…”

His head was right there and the temptation to kiss him was too good to pass up. Soft lips met his through the mask and he jerked back, stopping his movements altogether.

“God, don’t you stop, Thomas. Your cock is too good. Come back here.”

You wrapped an arm around his head and he let you bring him back down. This time he kissed back, licking and sucking your lips like they were made of chocolate. You were in absolute bliss, not thinking clearly, lost in a haze of euphoria.

With his mouth full of you and you full of him, he groaned a guttural sound that didn’t sound quite human. Your pussy took his second load with open arms, milking every last bit of him he had left to offer. You broke the sloppy kiss to watch his cock pulse and his balls twitch, finding it super erotic.

His cock left you open and wide. You clenched your walls and streams of his fresh cum gushed out. You swiped some and brought it to your lips with Thomas watching in clear fascination. You then offered your finger to him.

He titled his head and inspected the leftover fluid. After some time of pondering his tongue tentatively flicked out, considering the taste, then placed your entire finger in his mouth. He sucked until there was nothing left to suck except the saltiness of your skin.

Using the tree as a support, you carefully maneuvered up. Everything was sore, from your head down to your hips and the simple task of bending down seemed impossible. In an oddly sweet gesture, Thomas gathered your shorts and helped you put them back on.

“You know,” you began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “It’s a long way back to the house. Who knows what could happen on the way there.”

Thomas made a sound caught between a chuckle and a scuff. He watched you strut away, eyes glued to your bouncing ass.

His Mama was right. You were worth keeping around.

[catslvrr]

hiding in plain sight

kim minji x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Being stuck in an elevator is bad. Being stuck in an elevator with Minji, however, is very good.

Contains: mentions of drinking, cursing

Song: Glue Song — Beabadoobee, Clairo

You should’ve known that your laziness would come back to bite you in the ass one day.

“Alright,” Hanni huffs, readjusting her tote bag strap. “This is where we part ways.”

You shift weight onto your right foot to bump shoulders with her. “Are you sure? The offer still stands.”

“Very sure,” she laughs as she glances at the daunting stairs on the right. “Need these bad boys muscled up.”

Hanni attempts a bodybuilder pose to flaunt her calf muscles, but barely anything shows. It’s a sad display. Maybe she really does need it.

“Shame,” you sigh dejectedly. “I’ll convince you one day.”

Every day for two months. That’s how long Hanni has devoted herself to taking the stairs rather than the elevator. You’ve tried almost everything to convince her, from horror stories to bribery to threats.

“Hanni, just get in the fucking elevator,” you hiss, violently slamming on the ‘open doors’ button. It’s ten in the evening, both of you just got back from a grueling study session in the library, and you’re about to drop dead.

It’s just your luck that she’s your roommate. You forgot your keys to the apartment, and there is no way in hell that you’re waiting fifteen minutes for her to climb however many flights of stairs it takes to get to the room.

“Nuh-uh,” she sing-songs, performing a pirouette for absolutely no reason other than to rub salt in the wound. “It’s fun seeing you mad.”

You grit your teeth. “I will tell everyone that you were the one who killed Lucy.”

A gasp. “You wouldn’t!”

(It was a tragedy. Lucy was a dearly loved succulent who sat on a window sill at the end of the hallway. Every resident would visit Lucy from time to time, and there was even a Facebook page to upload pictures of Lucy and its growth.

On the fateful day, you and Hanni had just returned from a rowdy night out, and of course, both of you were a tad bit too drunk. You dared her to do a cartwheel and Lucy was unfortunately caught in the crossfire.

Somebody had posted a picture of Lucy, sprawled out on the carpet, pieces of the broken pot surrounding it. Word spread throughout the apartment and there was a solemn funeral held for Lucy. Justice was demanded but the true culprit was never found… because you were her alibi.)

“But I would,” you say with a smirk. At this point, you’re surprised the button isn’t broken yet. You’re also sorry for anyone else who’s waiting for the elevator on other floors.

“It was your fault in the first place!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got video evidence.”

Hanni sags her shoulders in defeat. After a few seconds of thinking, she seems to perk up again.

“Tell them,” she declares defiantly. “It’s been months anyway. People deserve closure.”

She then marches toward the stairs. You hear the echoes of her stomping.

You see your confounded face in the reflection as the elevator doors close.

“Aren’t you the basketball player?” Hanni muses. “You should be jumping at the chance to get some cardio in.”

“I already went to the gym today,” you flex your bicep smugly and attempt a smoulder. “And I got practice later.”

“You look like a jackass,” she scoffs. “Don’t talk to me.”

She curtly turns and speedwalks to the stairs, the telltale sounds of heavy steps following soon after.

You reach for your headphones around your neck and belatedly realize that they’re missing. “Fuck!”

The steps stop. Hanni’s voice is booming down the stairwell. “What?”

“I think I left my headphones in class.”

Hanni spares you no sympathy and cackles as she continues up the stairs. “Loser!”

You groan and decide you’ll go and find it before practice later. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for the elevator to arrive. It’s taking a bit longer than usual today. You take a few minutes to scroll on your phone for a bit before you hear a familiar ding.

The elevator doors open and you walk in, but as you turn around to press the button to your floor, you see a face you weren’t expecting to see.

“Minji?” You tilt your head as she steps inside.

Minji offers a small smile and an awkward wave.

If you remember correctly, she’s friends with Haerin, who’s your team’s mascot. It’s such a shame she didn’t try out for the team because her height is ideal for the sport. You already have Hyein as a center, but she could probably pass as a power forward if she trained for it.

You notice that Minji is wearing the bottom half of the bear mascot. “Is Haerin okay?”

“Yeah,” she scratches her cheek. “She’s feeling a bit under the weather so I’m taking over for tomorrow’s game. Figured I’d get some practice before then.”

You’re about to ask about how the practice went, but the way she slumps in exhaustion against the railing tells you everything. You take note of the glistening sweat on her neck and the strands of hair sticking to her skin. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat, but it gives her a faint glow that gets you bothered.

“Aren’t you hot?” You raise an eyebrow. “I tried that on once and I almost passed out after doing a backflip.”

Minji looks down at the bear costume and shakes her head hurriedly. “I’m almost home.”

“You’re fifth floor, right?”

A nod. You take her nonverbal response as a sign of discomfort, and so you stop your attempts at conversation.

There’s a few minutes of tense silence before a metallic screech pierces your ears. You both stumble as the elevator comes to an unexpected halt.

“What the fuck,” you say, squinting at the buttons and displays. You poke around for a bit before realizing that the elevator isn’t moving.

You turn around to check on Minji, but it doesn’t seem like she’s faring well. Her face is pale white and she’s tightly gripping onto the rails.

“Hey,” you take a small step toward her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she snaps her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Fine. Just a bit claustrophobic.”

You hesitantly place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “Just take your time and breathe, okay? I’ll contact emergency services.”

Minji nods again and sits down in the corner. You watch her worriedly before checking your phone. Of course, there’s no service. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You click on the bright red emergency services button, expecting static or a voice to sound out, but there’s nothing. You press again. And again. You push and hold it for five seconds.

“Don’t panic,” you flash Minji with an awkward grin. “But it’s not working.”

“Oh God,” she blanches, and understandably begins to panic. “We’re gonna die.”

She stands up, still in the mascot costume, and paces around the elevator. “We’re going to run out of oxygen. We’ll suffocate to death. We’ll run out of food and die of starvation. No, we’ll die of dehydration before that. What if I need to pee?”

The costume makes the passionate rant all the more comical. Her rambling continues as she wrings her hands together. “I think I need to pee. The anxiety’s getting to me.”

You grimace. “Please don’t talk about pissing. It’ll make me wanna piss too.”

Minji’s still aggressively muttering to herself in blind terror, so you stop her by grabbing her arm. “Hey, relax.”

That only seems to worsen her agitation as she yanks her body away from you, her face burning red as she almost elbows you in the face. She squeaks, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” you wave it off with a laugh and squeeze her hand. It’s soft. “You’re lucky you didn’t damage this pretty face.”

In this brief flustered state, Minji temporarily forgets about the panic and slides down to the floor like Jello. You squat down to meet her eye level. 

“Seriously though, it’ll be fine. The elevator has air vents so we’ll get enough circulation in here. And we’ll only be in here half an hour max. And about the pissing…” you trail off and take a quick peek at your duffle bag. “I have a bottle?”

Minji doesn’t reply, head in her hands. You make yourself comfortable and sit cross-legged opposite her.

“Will anyone notice you’re missing?”

“No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

Well, shit. Hanni probably thinks you’ve gone to find your headphones. “We might be here for more than an hour then.”

You clear your throat to break the awkward silence that ensues after. “How come I’ve never seen you around? We’re in the same year, right?”

“Our courses are in different buildings,” Minji says weakly. “My psych classes are far from the engineering buildings.”

“You already know what course I do?” You grin cheekily. “You must be a big fan.”

Minji hastily lifts her face, showcasing a burning blush. “No! I just… heard it from Haerin, that’s all.”

Your grin only widens. Like Haerin would ever talk about the team. She’s only there for the free post-game feeds. You choose to feign ignorance for her sake.

“You should take that off,” you suggest, noticing how Minji is uncomfortably squirming in the costume. “I’ll help with the zipper.”

“Okay,” Minji stammers, scrambling to get up on her feet.

You brush away some of her hair that’s covering the zipper and move it over her shoulder. Your fingers briefly brush over her neck, and all you can feel is how she’s burning hot. Minji almost imperceptibly shivers and jolts forward, choking on air. You pull the zipper down and watch with mirth as she clumsily wrestles out of the costume.

Minji stuffs it in her backpack and flops back down, hugging her backpack in her lap. You follow suit and sit a few inches away from her.

“Much better?”

She nods, still avoiding your gaze. You bite your cheek as you stare at her, trying to figure out a way to make conversation. You decide to fish your phone out of your pocket and pull up a recording of your last game, flashing her your screen as you pat the empty space next to you. “You wanna watch?”

Minji hesitates for a few seconds before shuffling closer. Her voice is small as she admits, “I was watching this game on the sidelines.”

You’re filled with a sense of pride at the news. But you also make a mental note to ponder on why you haven’t noticed her around before. “Really?”

“It’s not because of you or anything,” she adamantly denies, rubbing her nape, though you feel like her red cheeks contradict that.

“Anyone catch your eye?”

Her denial is half-hearted.

You pout teasingly. “Shame. I’ll play better next game.”

You save Minji from further embarrassment and press play. “You know how basketball works, right?”

“Each team has five players on the court… and the ball goes in the hoop?” Minji frowns.

“And?”

“And… you can’t run with the ball.”

“Basically,” you chuckle. “But there’s more to it.”

You rewind the video back to the beginning. “I hope you don’t mind me commentating.”

She shakes her head, and so you continue. “So this is one of the simplest plays in basketball: a pick and roll…”

You eventually finish the video and end up versing each other on the table hockey app on your phone. She’s surprisingly competitive and it’s endearing. You then somehow end up talking about card games, and you introduce her to the world of Inscryption through a gameplay video.

Halfway through the video, you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder. You crane your neck slightly and see Minji’s sleeping face. You smile and continue watching until you slowly drift off to sleep as well.

You’re both awoken with a sudden thud. Minji practically springs off of you and profusely apologizes, much to your amusement. You look up to see a firefighter opening the emergency escape hatch.

“You ladies alright?”

“Yes sir,” you drawl, checking your phone. “It’s just been two hours, no biggie.”

A ladder is dropped from the hatch and you both climb up, stretching your limbs as you stand on top of the elevator.

“This is so sick,” you pose as you take selfies. “I feel like I’m in some action movie.”

You tilt your phone to include Minji in the photos, and you laugh because she looks like she’s being held hostage.

The two of you are harnessed on some rope and pulled up by firefighters to safety. You’re shocked to see Haerin and Hanni there waiting. Hanni practically storms toward you and latches herself onto you like a koala, crying dramatically about your disappearance. You thank the firefighters as they pack up their equipment and begin to disperse.

“Hey Haerin,” you greet her with a strained voice, trying to peel Hanni off you. “You feeling better?”

“No,” she replies nasally. There’s a tissue stuffed in her right nostril. “But I’ll be there next game.”

You gift her with a slap on the back which earns you one in return, and you curse under your breath because she definitely hit you harder than you hit her. You ignore the stinging pain and swivel to meet Minji’s gaze that is already on you.

“Keep an eye on me next game?” You ask nonchalantly, but you must admit there’s a small part of you that twinges with hope. “I’ll play super duper good for you.”

Minji’s eyes widen in surprise before timidly answering with a stutter, “I will.”

“I’ll see you then!” You leave her with a side hug (where she awkwardly pats your back) before approaching Hanni. She gives you an eyebrow wiggle that you roll your eyes to in response. She is a hundred percent going to interrogate you at home. Both of you start the long climb to the apartment.

“Karma’s a bitch,” Hanni says obnoxiously. “That’s what you get for not taking the stairs.”

“Shut up JoJo Siwa,” you glower at her, but a lame grin graces your face when you remember your time spent with Minji. “I’d say it was a good thing.”

“Ew,” she gags. “Wipe that dopey smile off your face.”

You abruptly stop and grab Hanni’s arm. She turns around in confusion and sees your aghast expression. “What?”

“I missed practice. Yujin is gonna kill me.”

Tomorrow comes quicker than you expected, and you’re buzzing with nerves as you warm up on the sidelines. It’s not an important game, but your hands tremble a bit more today. You scan the court for a certain someone.

Danielle throws you a Gatorade. “Who are you looking for?”

“No one,” you blurt out a bit too quickly. You take a swig from the bottle to wash away your anxiety as you seat yourself on a bench.

“You sure?” Danielle quips with a knowing smile. “You’re shaking.”

You slam the bottle on the bench to shut down her jest. 

“Shouldn’t you be with Hyein?” You scowl as you shoo her away. “Go be a supportive friend and give her some encouraging words or something.”

Any lingering embarrassment flies out the window when you spot a big bear entering the building. You wave her over and laugh as she trips over someone’s stranded bag.

“Hi,” you smile.

You can barely hear Minji’s muffled voice through the head. “Hi.”

Your smile twitches as Hyein and Danielle appear behind Minji and start pulling childish faces. Your glare and subtle middle finger sends them away. “Wish me luck?”

The referee whistles as a signal for players to get on the court. Minji gives an awkward thumbs up, so you accept the fact that you have to initiate contact. You lean forward and kiss the stupid bear head. It’s a bit weird, but it’s worth it because you hear Minji’s breath hitch. 

She runs away promptly after. The game starts and you’ve never felt so motivated in your life.

The other team is irritatingly good at three-pointers, but your team’s size provides you with a solid advantage; you’re able to fight back through rebounding and shots inside the paint.

Your teammates are a bit puzzled at first when you keep hogging the ball and taking contested shots, but they’re not mad because you’re making them. The bewilderment quickly turns to disbelief when they realize you keep looking at the mascot after every shot.

“You’re so annoying,” Yujin grumbles during the half-time break. “This is not High School Musical.”

“Stop complaining, grandma.” You can feel your muscles ache from the overexertion, but the goal of impressing Minji takes priority. “We’re up by 20.”

“I think it’s cute!” Hyein interjects with an encouraging pinch of your cheek. “I can’t see Minji’s face but I bet she’s in love.”

Everyone turns as they hear a loud smack that resonates throughout the building. Minji’s sprawled on the floor after a failed backflip.

“She’s so cute,” you giggle, disregarding your teammate’s exasperated groans and mock punches.

The rest of the game is a breeze, but there are a few frustrating turnovers here and there that shorten the lead to nine when the final whistle blows.

You slither away from the team huddle and plop yourself down next to Minji. She’s gulping down water at a scarily excessive pace. You wait for her as she squeezes every last drop from the bottle and lets out a big wheeze afterwards.

“Tired?”

Minji nods and gratefully accepts the towel. You admire her as she wipes sweat off her neck and face.

“So,” you chirp. “How was the game?”

“You did really well,” she admits meekly.

Your chest puffs up at the praise. “So you’ll be watching from the front row for all my games from now on? I wanna see you.”

Minji’s taken aback by your forwardness, but nods shyly.

You’re still bouncing with adrenaline. “Did you see that and-one layup I made? And the no-look pass? And the—”

You stop rambling as you realize Minji’s not responding and spacing out. More specifically, spacing out and staring at your lips.

“Kiss me,” you say.

Minji literally jumps on the spot and almost screams, “What?”

“Kiss me,” you say again simply. “You want to and I want to. What’s stopping you?”

She audibly gulps and averts her gaze to hide her dilated pupils. “No, I was just distracted by something else, really…”

You roll your eyes and tug on the collar of the mascot costume to pull her in for a kiss. You feel her whole body stiffen and she makes a strangled noise, but then she melts and kisses you back for a few seconds before you pull away.

“Your lips are soft,” you smile casually, but you can feel the hammering of your heart.

“Thanks,” Minji’s voice wavers. “You too.”

“I like you,” you continue. “We should go on a date.”

“Really?” She stumbles over her words, still slightly dazed. “Are you sure?”

You hum in affirmation.

“Okay,” she squeaks.

“Okay,” you repeat with a smile. You stand up and take her hand to pull her up as well. “Let’s go eat. The team is probably waiting for us outside.”

“Wait!” She yanks you back. “Let me get out of this costume first…”

“Do you need help with the zipper again?”

“…Yes please.”

Dedicated to user rosiehrs... hope this minji was 'loser' enough for you

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Till Death Do Us Part

Okay so I want to preface this by saying I just wanted to write something gross. Or rather, a drabble about a really gross question that I had: Does fucking Frankenstein's monster count as necrophilia? If it's dead but it's awake, moving, actively consenting and pursuing you, does it count? I don't know. I do know that Reader here seems to think so. König is very frustrated by this.

Anyways, enjoy a fun new Frankenstein AU about König coming back! I hope you all enjoy!

TWs: Necrophilia??? Losing a loved one

Wordcount: 3.6K

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Till Death Do Us Part

Till death do us part.

You hadn’t even gotten that far.

You scrunched your eyes shut and wiped away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. No, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not when you were so close.

You looked up at the glass ceiling, beyond it to the thunderous sky, cracking with white stripes of lightning around coiling black clouds. Any moment now, it would be time.

Six months ago you’d been a different person. It was your graduation day. You finished your studies at medical school when you lost him. You were fresh faced and eager to tell your boyfriend all about the ceremony when you came home and found your apartment…  empty. You called your friends, then his parents, then your parents, and then finally the police. You got a call back the next day that König was found, but he wouldn’t be returning home. It was far too late for that.

You still felt that same tendril of rage curl in your stomach as you readied the dials and wires. A hit and run, they said. It was an accident. It was just a simple accident. It could happen to anyone. But it wasn’t meant to happen to you. These sorts of things happened to other people, not you.

You turned to face the rest of your make-shift lab. Your tools laid haphazardly strewn over dollies and steel tables. Stainless steel trays glinted in the arcing white light of the storm. Your eyes were lit with a fervent gleam as you turned to the freezer.

The funeral came and went in a blur. It was a closed casket funeral. They said it was because his body was too badly damaged, but you knew better than that. The funeral was nice, or so they said. You don’t remember much of it. You don’t remember much of that day besides going home. You had stood in your bedroom and looked at your empty bed for what felt like hours.

You didn’t get any sleep that night.

The air in the lab burned with oncoming electricity. Your hair started to stand on end. You needed to act fast.

You hauled the hulking freezer door open. Inside a giant cart lay. You trembled at the sight. It had to be now. You couldn’t give up. You needed to do this. You needed to be brave.

“Soon,” you whispered as you wheeled the creaking gurney out of the freezer, “just wait a little longer. We’ll be together soon.”

You pushed the stretcher to the center of the room and strapped it up to a set of hanging chains. You looked up once again to the sky. Thunder cracked and rippled through the air. You couldn’t wait any longer. It had to be now.

You slammed a fist on a button and the glass ceiling opened with a painful mechanical groan. You grabbed the crank and, with all your might, you pushed and pulled on the ancient metal and watched the gurney rise up into the sky. Your eyes widened as you watched it raise up higher and higher, closer to salvation. Your eyes watered again briefly.

Once the crank clacked into place, you stood back. Rain soaked through your hair and into your clothes. You wiped your goggles again and again before giving up and tucking them into your pocket. You just wanted this to work. You just wanted one thing to work. You needed to have this.

God, please, you silently begged as you looked up to the heavens.

The gurney swung precariously in the air as the wind howled around it. You prayed the straps would hold him in place. How you wished to hold him yourself, feel his warmth around you just one more time. But that’s what all this was for, right? Just one more chance.

The storm raged around you with the force of warring titans. You heard the bellows of thunder rolling towards you. Bright spears of lightning pierced the air. You could smell the storm, the blood of rain pelting down on the earth.

Your body shuddered in the cold. The rain stung against your bare skin as it struck down at you. You felt as though your very bones were chilled. You clutched your sides as you heard your teeth chatter inside of your skull.

You looked at the time on the far wall. Any second now it would come. It was so close. Your eyes squinted to read the glowing red numbers haunting the clock. You could only just make them out when a flash of light suddenly blinded you.

You covered your eyes and yelped as a boom of thunder deafened you. When you opened your eyes, you were flooded in darkness. You looked up at the gurney with wide eyes, but it was far too dark to make anything out against the dark clouds.

You cursed and rushed to the wall. You unhinged the crank and slowly wheeled it down, careful for no other reason than to still your beating heart.

As the gurney hit the floor you hurried to the gurney’s side.

You could feel your knees lock in place. You looked for any signs of movement, a twitch, a sniffle, a cough. You crept closer. A shudder, a jolt, a shake. You stood over the shrouded figure and clutched the sheets. A flinch, a stretch, a sigh. Anything. You wanted anything.

You threw off the white linen and let it flutter through the air.

He was still. He was painfully, dreadfully still.

You felt your throat close up.

“No,” you clawed at his bare biceps, “no, no!”

But he didn’t move. He was still like stone, still like death. His sunken eyes were closed in eternal rest. He was at peace while you felt yourself being torn apart all over again.

You’d lost him once, but now you’d lost him. Again. You’d destroyed him.

His veins looked black in his skin while the rest was bleached by the touch of stillness. He was your stillborn lover in your fragile arms.

You howled as you wept. You only had one chance. A storm of this magnitude only came once in a century. You’d never live to see another one like it.

What had gone wrong? Were your calculations flawed? Did you sew him together wrong? No. You did all you could. You knew you did. You’d devoted your every waking moment to König. You’d done everything you could to see him open his eyes once more. You’d laboured over him like a mother to her sickly child. You’d cared for his every need. You had taken care with the stitches, had preserved his body to the best of your abilities. You’d picked his flesh free of asphalt and glass like you’d clean your baby’s scraped knee. You’d loved him, but he was no more.

You slumped onto the ground with a final cry as you clutched at your sides, desperately trying to hold yourself together. But how could you? You felt your entire life slipping away from your fingertips. Everything you had eaten, slept and breathed for was all for naught. 

König was gone. He would always be gone. There was nothing you could do to bring him back.

You failed.

You faltered when you tried to stand. You fell back to your knees limply, then with a heaving sob, pulled yourself back to your feet. Your body swung with the momentum of the movement. 

You pushed the gurney back into the freezer without thinking. You barely noticed your feet putting themselves one in front of the other as they led back to your empty bedroom.

It was all meaningless. Stealing his body, moving to the abandoned lab, devoting yourself to your lover with every ounce of your being; none of it mattered anymore. You had wasted everything for nothing.

You fell into bed like a puppet cut from its strings, letting the cold numb of sleep wash over you one final time.

—

You woke with a start. Your eyes drifted to your phone. You checked it, but only a few hours had passed since you had closed your eyes. You furrowed your brows. You were too tired to be awake at this hour. You let your head fall back to your damp pillow and tried to close your eyes again.

BANG!

Your eyes snapped open.

Had you closed the skylight?

It dawned on you that you hadn’t.

With a groan you rubbed your dirty hands over your eyes. Your reddened eyes stang under your fingers and you hissed at the pain.

BANG!

You needed to hurry.

Your feet hit the cold floor for a moment before you brought yourself to your feet. You turned to grab your phone and turned on the flashlight to make your way to the door.

Turning the switch, you realised that there must have been a blackout. You cursed at your rotten luck and stumbled out into the gloom of your home.

The walk to your lab had never felt longer. With every step you took, you heard the banging from your lab get louder and louder.

By the time you’d gotten to the door, you felt like it was pounding in your ears. A cold metallic banging that had your very bones set on edge. From outside the door, you could hear metal groaning and shaking.

You opened the door and looked up. The rain pattered on the glass above. You frowned. You had closed the ceiling window after all. That was a surprise. But then what could cause the noise?

BANG!

On cue, the sound came from across the room.

Your heart skipped a beat.

No…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

It was like it knew someone was there. It knew someone had come into the lab. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

You crept across the floor to the door of the freezer. As you finally came to stand outside the door, you heard one final slam against the metal.

It was true.

Your eyes widened as you stumbled forward. There was a final bang and a metal screech. You heard something heavy step forward on unsteady feet. You snapped your flashlight up to look in the freezer and screamed.

He stumbled back at the light, but it was true. The experiment had worked. He was standing.

Your heart slammed in your chest as your knees grew weak. You fell to the floor as you stared at his massive form.

Had he always been this big?

“Hah?” you heard the echo of a voice you never thought you’d hear again.

“König?” you barely whispered.

You heard heavy footsteps stumble toward you before a heavy weight came crashing down in front of you. Your phone fell from your hands and clattered to the floor.

“Where am I?” his voice creaked with disuse.

Your hand shook as you held up a hand into the darkness. A cold clamp wrapped around it before pulling you towards a clothed lump. You shuddered at the touch. He was here.

It worked.

“König please, please,” you babbled as tears welled up, “please-”

“I’m here,” he assured you before pulling your into his freezing chest, “I’m here.”

You wrapped your arms around him and sobbed. You could feel your tears soaking his skin, freezing in the cold of the air. You desperately clung to him, afraid that if you let go he would ghost away.

“Don’t leave me,” you harshly whispered.

“I never did?” König laughed before shuddering, “let’s get out of this cold. It’s freezing in here.”

You laughed, “I mean, you were just in a freezer.”

König huffed, “Why was I in a freezer?”

You blinked away the tears. Did he not know?

You stumbled back and reached around to grab your phone. You padded your hand across the concrete before you found it and held it up. As soon as you did, you gasped and reeled back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You froze. No. He couldn’t.

You raised your phone up again.

His eyes were sunken into his skull. Once bright blue eyes now were tinged yellow with decaying pupils. A brown streak crossed over both of his eyeballs, marked by death.

You gulped and stumbled up to your feet.

“We need to talk,” your voice shook as you led König out into the light of the moon.

“About what?” König asked.

You turned back to get a better look at him. You shone your phone over his entire body. Pale and streaked with black veins. His body was criss-crossed with a myriad of black stitches. You’d done this to him.

“Oh König…” your voice broke.

“What’s wrong?” König asked nervously, “please, tell me what’s wrong!”

You covered your face with your hands and moaned.

You felt his heavy hand fall on your shoulder and you ripped away.

“What did I do?” he asked in an unbefitting small voice.

“No König, you did nothing,” you sobbed, “it’s what I’ve done.”

“What you’ve done?” König scoffed, “please, it can’t be that bad. Nothing compared to the things I’ve done.”

“No, you don’t understand,” you cried, “it’s what I’ve done to you.”

“To me?” König’s voice sounded full of fluids as he laughed heartily, “you haven’t done anything to me! What are you talking about?”

“Oh König…” you shook as you stepped back, “you have no idea. I’ve… I’ve doomed us. Both of us.”

“What? No, you haven’t done anything!” König sighed, “let’s go to the store, yeah? Let’s get some icecream.”

“König you can’t go out,” you whispered.

“Excuse me?” he scoffed.

“You don’t understand König. You’re not you anymore.”

“I think I am, actually,” König snorted, “I’m me. I think I’m the best judge of who’s me.”

“No…” you held up your phone with shaky hands and opened your camera app, “just look at yourself.”

You watched his entire form be lit up in a hideous flash of bright white light. In a brief moment, you saw his entire body be lit up. You saw the mottled skin, the sagging sinew; you saw his decaying body lit up like a holy spirit.

You turned the phone around with a sniffle.

You could see his clothed face be lit up by the screen as he leaned in and looked at the photo. You watched his body begin to shake as he held up a bony hand to point at the screen.

“That’s…” his voice shook, “that’s not me. That’s not me.”

“That is you König,” you gulped, “I did this to you.”

“I-I look like I-”

“You did,” you clenched your jaw, “you died six months ago. I stole your body from the morgue a couple of days after they found you. I stored you in a walk-in freezer before I bought this place and brought you here. That’s why you woke up in the freezer.”

“But-but how-”

“I studied medicine. A bit too much, honestly,” you continued to explain, “I looked things up online. I made some deals, I got new tools, I bought this whole lab we’re in for you. I haven’t left the house for the past six months. I’ve spent all my time trying to bring you back. But now…”

König’s breathing shallowed as he listened. You could hear him pace back and forth as he wrapped his mind around it. He let out a strangled groan before he turned back to you.

“Why?”

You sniffled, “I couldn’t live without you.”

“You did all this,” König hissed, “for me.”

“I’ve dedicated my whole life to you,” you admitted.

“So all this-”

“It’s all for you,” you said, “for us.”

König was still in his silence. You could hear your heartbeat racing in your ears as you felt the air grow thick with unsaid words. You wanted to sink into the floor. You wanted to go back, change everything you ever did. How did you ever think this would work? How could you do this? How-

“Till death do us part,” you heard him mutter.

“What?”

He grunted, “I said until death do us-”

“Yeah, I heard you,” you cut him off, “just… I dunno. I was thinking that earlier today. You know, when I was bringing you back.”

“We never even got that far,” König said.

“I thought about that too,” you chuckled despite yourself.

König laughed under his breath and ran a hand over his mask, “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“You’re not seriously treating this like some little joke, are you?” you lowered your phone back to your side.

“No, I just… It’s so you. Of course you’d do this,” he laughed harder, “it’s just so crazy. I… I don’t even know what to think.”

“Honestly, I think it’s crazy you can think at all,” you pointed out, “I thought because of the brain damage that you would barely know how to move.”

“Brain damage?”

“König you were hit by a car.”

König coughed in shock, “I died from a car accident?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I had to put you back together. Hence why all the…”

“The stitches,” König finished for you.

You stood in an awkward silence in the dark. Now that the shock had begun to wear off, you felt exhaustion eating at your very core.

“I just thought I’d die overseas,” König chuffed, “like a proper soldier. I didn’t think my own countryman would be the one to take me out.”

“Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t crush their car,” you giggled, “you’re built like a moose.”

“I think I did,” König muttered bleakly, “I’m starting to remember walking home at night. I saw a bright light, and then I… I guess I died.”

König grumbled as he took a few steps closer.

“We need to talk about this,” he stated.

“Look, it’s… God it’s five am,” you groaned, “I… I need to sleep. We need to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“I don’t feel like sleeping,” König said.

“You’ve been ‘sleeping’ for six months,” you snorted, “I think you’ll be fine.”

“Can we turn on some lights in here?” König asked, “it’s so dark.”

“I think there was a blackout when the storm came,” you said.

“The storm?” König asked.

“I used lightning to bring you back. It was the best way to reactivate the signals in your brain,” you offered, “and to restart your heart. I guess it worked out in the end.”

König took in a deep breath.

“Okay. We’ll talk about this later. I need to… I need to focus,” he muttered to himself. “Did you check the fuse box when you noticed the blackout?” König sighed.

“I… No. No I didn’t,” you admitted sheepishly, “I woke up to you banging on the door.”

“Do you know how to fix the fuse box?”

You shifted your weight awkwardly.

“Show me where it is and I’ll fix it,” you could practically hear König rolling his eyes.

“Just, uh, follow me.”

—

König stared into the mirror silently.

“You kept my mask on,” he said.

“After I fixed your face… I guess I didn’t feel comfortable seeing you without it,” you said, perched on the edge of the tub.

“But you took my clothes?” he glanced down.

“I left you in your boxers,” you pointed out.

König grumbled and plucked at them, “They’re dirty.”

“Not that bad though. I mean, you’ve been frozen in them for six months.”

König glared at you before looking back into the mirror to look at his eyes.

“This goes away eventually, doesn’t it?” König asked as he pointed at the dark streak over his eyes.

“I don’t know honestly,” you told him again, “there’s a lot of things I’m not sure of. You’re the only person I know who’s come back from the dead.”

“Surely there has to be someone else,” König leaned in close to get a better look at the dark skin around his eyes, “it looks like I have my eye black on. Did you put it on for me?”

“That’s just your skin now,” you stood up to stand behind him and rub his broad back.

“And I’m hairless now?”

“The lightening burned most of the hair off your body,” you shrugged, “at least you still have your eyebrows.”

“Very funny,” he grumbled before taking a step back and looking down at you, “so what now?”

You chewed your lip.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a plan,” König snapped.

“I honestly didn’t think about what to do next,” you admitted.

“You didn’t think about a lot of things,” König grumbled and rubbed at his eyes. He glanced down at his boxers and frowned.

“What?”

“Did you do anything to my…”

“What!? No!”

“So…”

“So what?”

“Does my penis drop off if I get hard?” he asked.

You paled, “I don’t think so? It’s not like it’s dead flesh. I mean, it is but it’s not, like, decayed. I kept you as fresh as I could.”

“Does it still work?” König asked hopefully.

You shivered, “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Well you should start thinking because I want to know,” König huffed.

“Does it really matter?” you asked.

“If I want to fuck you it does,” he snapped bitterly.

“Fuck me? König you’re a literal corpse-”

König’s eyes popped open as he snapped his head to look at you.

“You brought me back and you won’t even fuck me?”

You stalled. You hadn’t thought this far. König was right about you not thinking through this enough.

“I mean, you’re a walking corpse, so I mean…”

König sat down on the tub, “You’re telling me you won’t fuck me.”

“I’m not a necrophile,” you pointed out, “that’d be weird.”

“I’m literally your boyfriend,” König countered.

“But you’re dead!”

“I’m not dead anymore!”

You shook your head, “I’m not having this conversation before bed.”

König drew a heavy hand over his face with a sigh.

“When we wake up,” he concluded, “I want to talk about this.”

“When we wake up,” you agreed as you led him to bed.

Konig Masterlist

Konig Alternate Universes

[princesssmars]

hockey player!abby, skier!reader, and those stupid olympic beds. slight nsfw.

it was no secret to anyone that you and abby had a very healthy relationship. you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, compatible mentally, emotionally, romantically…

and physically. definitely physically.

it only took a month after your first time together for her teammates to start teasing her, pointing out the purple marks trailing up and down her body in the locker rooms, how her mood has somehow gotten even more chipper, not to mention that time some frat dickhead flirted with you at a party and you showed up to a game the next day with abby’s custom jersey on a slight limp in your step…

it got to the point where just your presence at a practice pulled abby’s attention in like a black hole, the blonde constantly checking to make sure you were in the same spot and waving cutely at you before getting slammed by someone she was supposed to be guarding against. after a few times her coach had to temporarily ban you from coming, or at least wearing the ugliest piece of clothing you owned if you came.

so yes. everybody knows you’re both very satisfied.

now, when you picked up your phone and saw five missed calls from abby in the span of ten minutes in the middle of the day, it’s safe to say your heart nearly dropped out of your ass. pressing the call back button and holding the device up to your ear, nothing but the worst scenarios fill your mind until her fast breathing fills your ear.

“babe, oh my god! why didn’t you pick up!”

“abs what’s wrong, are you okay?” you try to keep your voice steady, knowing that your panic will only make her panic which would be the worst thing if she was in an actually dangerous situation.

“no i’m not okay. is it true about the beds? please tell me it’s not true.”

you can hear two of her teammates giggling in the bathroom and it takes everything in you to not hang up and the phone spend the next month at your own place.

“what….abby what beds?”

“at the games! the olympics! jamie said the ones in milan are gonna be cardboard. and that they had a ban on. well, yknow.”

you let out a long sigh, clearly a loud one if the increased laughter in the background of the call is anything to go by. you pinch the bridge of your nose and try your best to act sane.

“yeah, babe, they’ll probably be cardboard. but there’s no ban of sex, that were just some temporary covid restrictions in tokyo. don’t think one would work, anyway. thousands of hot athletes in a single village? let’s be serious.”

halfway through your explanation she lets out a relived sigh joined by a ‘oh thank god’, a plethora of laughs and faux kissing noises drowning out her voice.

“ugh, you two are so whipped.” jamie’s voice pipes in from the background, abby groaning with the tell tale sound of fake slapping ringing from your phone.

“why don’t you tell jamie to keep her mouth shut and worry about how her girlfriends had her in the doghouse for three week?”

abby cackles on the other side of the phone, pestering her teammate for answer before you hear the sound of her stomping away, the other girls following after her.

“gosh, thanks for that. they never stop pestering me about you. whatever, they’re just jealous i got to you first. and that i’m not sharing.”

your heart warms at her possessiveness, always giddy when she shows clear affection towards you. “aww, you’re cute. tell me when your practice is over and i’ll pick you up, take you to get some pizza and i’ll spill all of the drama i learned last week.”

“you’re the best. buttt now that i know there’s no ban, maybe after pizza we can start warming up for our post game activities.”

“abs, the games are two years away.”

“i always say practice makes perfect!”

last month i had a whole fantasy played out of abby and reader competing together in paris and having sweet ‘we’re in love and olympic champions’ sex before i realized their sports are winter olympics. which are in milan. 2026. i’ve never been the brightest.