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noonecareslol · 6 months ago

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𒀯𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚

Anaxiphilia: love for or attraction to unsuitable mates; an act of falling in love with the wrong person

Hwang In-Ho x Fem! Reader

wc! 7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After you move away from your childhood best friend (and first love), the last place you expected to see him was stuck with you as a “player”.

TW: Violence (duh its squid game), cursing, smut 18+ pnv, unsafe sex, probably pregnant lol

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Classical music filled your ears as your eyes adjusted to the bright lights. It played throughout the room as you woke slowly and attempted to make sense of your surroundings. But, as you looked at the number placed on your tracksuit you remembered where you were.

Or at least why you were there.

You were never uncomfortable growing up. You were actually quite wealthy. Your father owned a very successful company, your mother invested money intuitively, and life seemed to improve daily. That was until you were 17 and news broke that your father’s company was a front. A money laundering business that cleaned his filthy money from years and years of fraud. When they died, they left you a monumental amount of debt. And when a suspiciously attractive guy handed you a little brown card, you couldn’t help but call the number on the back.

You knew the games were too good to be true. And you realized you were right after the first one. It took you 30 minutes to wash the blood off your face and out of your hair.

Now you were standing next to a girl with the number “222” written on her tracksuit, watching as an older lady and her son begged the guards to let them go. You fiddled with your hands, flinching at the rawness after scrubbing them relentlessly. Your attention was grabbed when another person stepped through the crowd.

“Clause three of the consent form!” Your eyes trained on him as he spoke angrily, “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote.”

Your heart stopped. You could go home and be safe. But you would still be drowning in debt. You bit your lip, remembering about the share of money you would receive. Would you have enough to cover it?

As if the guards could read your mind, a large piggy bank lowered from the ceiling, “The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91. Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated.” Every eye watched as the piggy bank began to fill, “If you quit the games now, the 365 of you can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share.”

Another man shoves past the crowd, “And how much is that?”

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won.”

Exasperated sighs and annoyed words broke out amongst the crowd. But your eyes stayed trained on the man who first spoke, “456” written on his chest.

The pink guard spoke loudly, “The rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

The crowd stayed silent, “The total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won.”

The crowd erupted again, full of enthusiastic words and motivated cheers. The girl next to you placed her hands over her stomach, almost cradling it closer to her body.

If you went home now, you wouldn’t even have enough to cover a third of your debt. But if you stay and continue the games, you could die.

The doors opened and two guards wheeled out a metal podium with two buttons, a red X and a blue O. “Now, let’s begin the vote. If you wish to continue the games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button. The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers.”

“Player 456.”

The same man from before stepped forward without hesitation. As he walked to the podium his stride was filled with wrath and as he slammed his palm against the X, his eye contact didn’t break with the guard.

The voting continued, each person stepping forward to decide whether to live or die. Each time either button was pressed you silently celebrated, still not sure if you should stay or go.

“Player number two.”

Your face fell as your eyes centered on the podium. And with each slow step you took, you became more sure of your decision. And as you reached the podium, you had made up your mind entirely.

A high beep rang through the room as your face reflected the blue button. You decided to continue. Flinching at the sound of defeated sighs from behind, you took the patch embroidered with an O and joined the other voters.

“Player number one.”

You hadn’t cared to look at the man when he was standing next to you earlier. But now that he was about to break a tie, your eyes were locked on him. You didn’t catch his face but you studied his figure. He had a tall frame and dark brown hair that seemed to be styled perfectly. He walked with a thick sense of confidence and you hadn’t failed to notice how his tracksuit clung to his biceps.

You watched intensely as he lifted his hand and hovered between the two buttons. The room held suspension and your eyes were locked on his hand. He hesitated for a few more moments before pressing his hand down. Blue light illuminated his face and the surrounding crowd cheered as he walked from the podium.

He had selected to stay. To play another game where you, or him, could die. You voted for that too. So why aren’t you happy about winning?

Because he’s turned around now and you’ve seen his face. And you would recognize that face anywhere.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“I don't understand, you’re moving?” He grasped the sides of your face, afraid to let go.

You looked at the boy in front of you who’ve you known your whole life. You went to private schools together, fancy parties together, and you shared your first time together. And now you’re leaving.

You placed your hands over his, “I don’t understand either In-ho. I want to stay, I don’t want to leave you.” Tears fell down your rosy cheeks as In-ho placed his forehead gently against yours.

You ignored your mother’s frantic yells for you to come and pack your things. You didn’t want to leave him. You loved him, and you knew if you left now you wouldn’t just be leaving your house. You’d be leaving your life behind. Your father would be arrested and your mother would have to work while taking care of you herself. You would move from Gangnam to Daegu. And you would have to start a new life. You just didn’t understand why In-ho couldn’t be a part of it.

That was the last time you saw him.

Well, until now.

You kept your distance, watching him talk to player 456. You recognize him from before as the man who’s already played.

You observed intensely, not bothering with your food. You watched how he exchanged words with 456. How his hair moved slightly as he used his hands to talk. You didn’t understand why he was here. The last you heard about him, he was married and his wife was expecting.

What could’ve gone so wrong for him to be here?

The girl next to you shuffled in her seat, setting her empty dosirak-tong on the ground. You knew she was pregnant just from how she walked uncomfortably with her hands supporting her back.

“Here, take mine. I don’t like dosirak.” It was a lie, dosirak is one of your favorite meals. But she was eating for two, and you didn’t have an appetite.

She looked up at you before gently taking the metal box from your hands, “Thank you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and you smiled in return.

Your eyes searched for In-ho again to find him walking towards a fight you hadn't noticed had broken out. His frame was large and towered over the boys as he approached them, “Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime There are elders present, mind your manners. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“You’re lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too?” In-ho’s jaw clenched as he tilted his head at the boy, “Dude, stop running your mouth and take care of your own damn kids.”

You knew where this was heading, In-ho always knew how to fight. You smirked as he grabbed the boy, turning him around and twisting his arm behind him.

Forcing him to the ground with a thud as he whined, “Wait! I’m sorry! Please, let me go!”

He let go of his arm and stood up straight, adjusting his tracksuit. As he looked around the room while walking back toward player 456, his eyes suddenly met with yours. And he froze as he scanned your face. He was so caught up in Gi-huns plan that he had failed to realize you had entered the game. The girl he fell in love with. Who he shared his first kiss with, who he has thought about every day for 20 years since you were 17.

Your heart ached as old feelings rushed over you, watching as his eyes softened slightly before player 390 dragged him over.

You couldn’t sleep that night. You were too busy trying to figure out why he was here. Plus, you caught word of the next game being Dalgona. Which worried you because you had always sucked at cutting out the tiny shape, always giving in and eating the cookie whole.

You spent the night staring tiredly at the piggy bank, the soft yellow light casting across your face. What you didn't know is that 50 feet away, In-ho watched you. His mind also trying to understand why you were here. He stared at you, his eyes tracing the curve of your jaw, remembering when he would trail kisses on your pretty little face.

When he met your eyes earlier, he froze. Not because he didn't expect to see you, which he didn't, he froze because his heart did. He marveled at your beauty, and you took his breath away. Just like the first time he saw you all those years ago.

And now as he lays in his bed, his pillow propped up on the opposite end so he can see you, he can't help but address the elephant in the room. You know his name. You know his identity. You could ruin everything, his plan that he had focused solely on for the past three years.

As the lights turned on and classical music rang out from the speakers, his eyes stayed on you and only you.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Welcome to your second game. This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of six in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat."

Sand kicked behind you as you walked into the room. The speakers repeated the instructions as you whispered to the girl next to you, "Is Dalgona played in teams?" She shook her head and her hand caressed her belly. You've grown somewhat protective over the girl, whose name you learned is Kim Jun-hee.

You take her hand as you look to find a team and your eyes try to pick out In-ho from the crowd. You think you spot the back of his head and start to pull Jun-hee towards him when she makes a be-line to a group. Your protests go ignored as she reaches them. Your eyes still search for In-ho as she inquires about joining their group.

"Of course, you can join." The voice snaps you from your search as you meet familiar piercing brown eyes with your own. Your breath hitches in your throat as he doesn't break eye contact.

"Time for team selection is up." The PA system breaks your stare, but In-ho holds his. You look around the room, scanning over the tall blue walls and the rainbows painted on the floor, "The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a minigame at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the minigames: Number one, the Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gonggi. Number four, Kendama. Number five, Spinning Top. Number six, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the minigames and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide on players for each minigame."

Your team divides the games between you. You get stuck with Kendama, a game that is played by tossing a ball into the air and attempting to catch it on a wooden stick point. You're fairly confident in yourself. You and In-ho grew up playing games like these.

You sit with your group as each team competes. You sat at the end next to Jun-Hee, checking on her every once and a while. You flinched every time a gunshot rang out, anxiety bubbling with every elimination.

In-ho could not stop looking at you. It was as if you had a magnetic pull, and he couldn't look away. You were a piece of art, crafted with the hands of God himself. And he was jealous of God's hands, wishing it had been his very own that created such beauty. Every time you looked his way, he looked elsewhere.

"Final two teams, please get ready." You help Jun-hee stand up, 390 stepping in place next to her. Standing on the other side of 388 as you all line up at the start. You lower your gaze as In-ho steps in line next to you. He's always been intimidating, especially with his large frame towering over yours.

390 chuckles, "It's weird to be the only ones who don't get an audience, isn't it?" His attempt to lighten the mood works a little, a small smile forming on your lips.

"I think it will help us focus more!" You rub 388's shoulder in comfort while he repeats the motions of throwing and catching the Gonggi.

The guard finishes locking In-ho's and 456's shackles before you feel an arm snake around yours. In-ho's bicep compresses your own as your face heats up. You glance up daringly meeting In-hos sharp gaze. You should say something. Anything. Ask him why he's here, or where his wife is. But before you can speak, 456 starts the chant and steps forward.

"Hana dul! Hana dul! Hana dul!" You chant as you approach the first game. Jun-hee slams the red ddakji down, successfully flipping the blue one on the first try.

As you chant and walk to the next game, 388 breaks the pace and steps forward quickly. Without hesitation In-ho's hand moves from your arm to your waist, effortlessly steadying you "Hey! Keep the pace!"

388 steps back into pace as we reach the next game, "Back when I used to pitch, I never threw very fast, but the ball always went where I wanted." 390 steps one foot back before aiming and throwing the stone precisely, hitting the target on the first try!

You all cheer before continuing forward, quickly approaching three minutes. As you sit on the ground you feel In-ho steadying you again, allowing you to lean slightly against him to give 388 more room to play his game.

"Okay, just take your time. You got this." I reassure 388 as he grabs the gonggi. With a quick hand, he tosses one in the air before collecting them one at a time. Then two at a time, Then three and one. Then all. He flips them on the back of his hand before catching them effortlessly.

Your cheers were quick as you stood up and rushed towards the fourth game. The guard hands you the Kendama and you can feel In-ho's gaze on you intensely. You held the Kendama out in front of you, tossing the ball up, quickly moving your hand to catch it. You close your eyes as you feel the ball land on the spike.

"Yes! You did it Y/N!" In-ho grabs your shoulders and shakes you, you shake his back as he beams a smile at you. And for a second, you forget about the timer and you're both 17 again, in love.

He wraps his arm around your waist again as you move to his game. He takes the spinning top in his hand and begins to wrap the rope around it, confidence radiating from him. We have this in the bag! -oh.

The rope fell off.

You feel his body tighten as stress began to build. He wraps the rope around once more before tossing it, praying that the top spins. It falls to its side and In-ho curses under his breath. You remember him using his left hand when growing up to play this game. You wondered why he was using his right, but you didn't ask him. You could tell he was getting annoyed at himself.

"It's okay! Just try again!" You let go of In-ho's arm to give him more room. He flings the spinning top with too much power and it flings backwards.

In-ho freezes, too embarrassed to move. The man next to him, 456, grabs his shoulder firmly, "It's okay, we'll get it. All right, backwards. Ready, set."

In-ho holds my waist tightly as we walk backwards in step, "It'd be boring to win everything fast." The group nods in agreement at 390's words, " 'Cause if you're ever gonna grow, you need to fail first, right?"

In-ho picks up the spinning top and we trek back to the line. He wraps the rope around successfully, "Okay now take it slow, wait- no don't rush it!"

In-ho interrupted 388's instructions by quickly, and messily, throwing the top. It falls to the side and you feel In-ho throw his head back and laugh. You quickly remove your hand from his waist, knowing what's about to happen.

"You piece of fucking shit! You ruin everything! You're worthless!" In-ho drops the piece of rope in his hand as he hits his head against his hands. "You're so pathetic!"

The group stands shocked as he hits himself angrily, stomping in the dried blood below him. You bend down and pick up the rope, glancing at the clock.

50 seconds.

"Hey!" You slam the rope against his chest and pull his face to look at you, "No one's blaming any of this on you! Now, take a deep breath, okay?"

In-ho nodded slowly, the feeling of your touch burning on his face as he placed his right hand over his chest, something he would do when you were younger. As the group shuffles to pick up the top, you place one of your hands over his and slow his breathing, "You can do this In-ho. Use your left hand like you did when we were kids. And if I die because of this I will kill you myself."

In-ho gave a small smile at your sarcasm as he wraps the rope around the axel, then the top. He places it in his left hand and looks at you quickly before throwing the top.

It spins.

You erupt in cheers as In-ho succeeds! He gives a quick hug to you, that you wished had lasted longer, and your group moves to 456's turn. In-ho's gaze darkened as he focused on 456, and you failed to notice it, still flustered from the quick hug.

"One! Two! Three! Four!" You all counted as 456 bounced the jegi on his foot, watching him and the clock as it counts down. For a split moment it seemed that he wouldn't be able to get the last hit in, but suddenly In-ho swoops in and reaches with his foot. "Five!"

You all cheer as you practically run to the end, crossing right as the timer hit zero. The heavy shackles get removed and you are immediately engulfed in a bear hug from In-ho. His arms wrap around the small of your back as he pulls you closer to his frame, if possible. He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you stay frozen. Not from the near- death- experience you just had, but because you realized you had forgotten what his hugs had felt like. You threw your arms around him in return, deepening the hug you have longed for every day for 20 years.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You sat closely next to In-ho as the group chatted and complemented each others moves from the game. You were looking forward to catching up with In-ho, but you were too engrossed in 388's retelling of 390's stone toss, "And, sir, you were incredible at Flying Stone!" He proudly stood up and pretended to throw a stone, "You just lined it up and... Boom! First try!"

You giggled as 390 proudly shaked his head, and In-ho turned to look at you. God, that laugh. He had forgotten what it sounded like, and he frowned when you stopped, "I was thinking, what if we go around and say what our real names are? I'll go first, my name is Kang Dae-ho. Dae as in 'huge' and ho as in 'tiger'!"

390 laughed as Dae-ho gave himself tiger fangs with his fingers, "Now that's a cool name. My name is Park Jung-bae. It means 'righteous' and 'double.' So, I should be living twice as righteously."

"My name is Kim Jun-hee. I don't think I know what it stands for." Jun-hee smiles as she pushes a stray hair from her face.

"Jun means 'talented' and hee means 'star'. You are a talented star Jun-hee!" You ruffle her hair as she beams at you, "My name is Y/N. L/N, Y/N."

You can feel In-ho's stare as he watches your lips move, "My name is Young-il. You know, like 'yeong il.' 'Zero one' in Korean." You whipped your head towards him. Was there a reason he was hiding his name? Did he not trust anyone? He gave you a reassuring look, you'd just ask him later.

"My full name is Seong Gi-Hun." You looked away from In-ho's gaze as you watched 456 introduce himself.

"Seong Gi-hun. Like our un-'Seong' hero?" Everyone laughed but you. You were still pondering about In-ho. There were so many unanswered questions running through your mind. In-ho must have noticed your distant look, because he gave your hand a squeeze. A promise that he'll explain everything.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After another failed vote to go home (you had voted to leave this time), Gi-hun warned about the possibility of an ambush. It plagued your mind with worry as you laid on your mattress. Another night of no sleep adding to the eyebags growing under your pretty E/C eyes.

Gi-hun stood from his watch as In-ho took over, and headed to bed. Now was your chance to fully reconnect with In-ho, "Can I sit here?"

In-ho turned to you, "Cant sleep?" He asked as he scooted over a tad, making room for you. He didn't make a whole lot of room though, which you didn't mind.

Your thighs touched as you sat next to him, "No, never could when my mind is running like this." You dusted off your pants as you placed your legs out in front of you, fingers avoiding the blood that plagued your bottoms.

"You shouldn't be anxious about the game tomorrow." He watched your face intently, trying to read you. You were always so easy to read.

You stifle a small laugh, "Oh i'm not anxious, 'Young-il'. " You tilted your head towards him as you dragged out his "name", smirking as he nodded defeatedly.

"Ohhh, okay." He leaned in close, making your heart flutter, "I just don't want anyone to know my name yet. In a game like this there's a lot of... betrayal."

Your spine shivered as his words tickled your ear, "Oh, I guess I didn't think about that..." You turned to look at him but failed to realize how close he was.

Your lips were now inches apart, barely. You could feel his breath fan across your lips and his eyes remained focused on yours, "It can be our little secret? Hmm?" You found yourself nodding before you could even process what he said.

You didn't move, instead, you tested the waters. You leaned in closer, tilting your head slightly, "Last I heard you were married?"

He shook his head no, not caring to explain as he quickly licked his lips, his eyes now focusing on your own. Your breath caught as your heart beat at an unearthly rate, he was so close. If either of you moved your head even a centimeter, his lips would be on yours.

But you weren't able to find out. The small metal door slammed as Jun-hee, Hyun-ju, and Ae-sim walked in, and you pulled back quickly. "I should try and sleep."

In-ho nodded as you walked away, his eyes trailed the curve of your ass and he adjusted his pants slightly before going back to his watch.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Players, welcome to the third game. We will begin momentarily. The game you will be playing today is Mingle." The beady-eyed horses caught your attention first. The black, soulless, painted eyes boring into your own as you followed behind In-ho. "I will now explain the rules of the game. All players will step onto the platform in the center of the arena. Once the game begins, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches this number, enter one of the surrounding rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds, or be eliminated."

You stopped in front of the red platform, In-ho stopped next to you, "The real crucial thing for us to do is to stay calm and don't panic. Trust each other. And we'll all get out of here in once piece." He looked down at you, a need to protect you suddenly clear, "Deal?"

You looked up at him, "Deal." And he took your hand as you both stepped on the platform.

"With that, let the game begin!" The woman over the PA system was replaced with a nursery song, "Round And Round". The platform jolted before starting its spin, and you grasp onto In-ho for support as he steadies you.

"Ten."

The lights were replaced with flashing red as In-ho pulled you close. Gi-hun grabbed a group of 3 people as you searched for an open door, "Room 44!" You pointed to the light green door before dragging In-ho and Dae-ho with you. Hyun- ju grabbed a stray woman while running through the green door, barely making it.

In-ho placed his hands on the sides of your arms firmly, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." You breathed out, trying to catch your breath.

He took one hand and cupped your face, "Just stick with me. You'll be okay." You nod as the door unlocks and he grabs your hand, leading you back to the platform.

You spin for another few agonizing seconds with your hand still firmly grasped in In-ho's. "Five."

Your face fell, there were six of you. Who was going to leave? In-ho quickly pushes you into Jung-bae's grasp, "Watch her, i'll go! Hurry!" In-ho takes one more glance towards you as he runs through the crowd.

Jung-bae drags you with the others as you call for In-ho, "Young- il! Young-il!" The door locks behind you and you break from Jung-bae's hold.

"Im sure hes okay. He's smart Y/N." You press your face to the door, peering out of the small window, searching for his tall frame. You know he's smart, but you were so scared of losing him again you couldn't even register the other players getting shot in front of your door.

It unlocks and you push it open, rushing out and onto the platform. You whip your head around as you scanned for In-ho. When you lock eyes with his brown ones you make a beeline towards him, pushing past other players as you jump into his arms, "What ever happened to, "Stick with me"?"

His hand wrapped protectively behind your neck, cradling you in his arms, "I know, im sorry. But i'm okay." He pulled your head away to look at him, a small smile resting on his face.

The platform began to spin as you and In-ho stood next to Jun-hee, "Attention, players. The final round will now begin." The God forsaken nursery rhyme plays again, and this time, your eyes were glued to In-ho.

"What do you think the number will be?" Jun-hee asked curiously while clinging onto Dae-ho.

"It will be two." In-ho looked towards her.

"Wait, why?"

He squeezes your hand, "We're at 126 people, and there are 50 rooms. Even if there's two in every room, then there's still only enough for 100 of us. If you don't find one fast, you're done for."

The platform comes to a halt. "Two." The lights flash again and In-ho pulls you on instinct, running to a yellow door.

In-ho was going to keep you safe, at any cost.

You look back towards the group for a split second when your body meets the ground, you look up in slow motion as the man who pushed you runs to the door. You took a staggered breath before grabbing onto his ankle, slamming him to the ground and buying you enough time to run in behind In-ho and close the door.

Relief washed over you only momentarily as your eyes met with a third person in the room. In-ho steps in front of you, "Out."

"But, we were here first. Why don't you put her out and I stay?" In-ho tilts his head at his last remark before wrapping his biceps around the man's head.

The door behind you shook as the other man tries to push it open, you are quick to press your body weight against it to hold it close, "In-ho, what do we do?" Your voice was frantic as the countdown continued.

In-ho's arms tighten around the mans neck as he pulls and pushes at his grasp, but In-hos eyes never faltered. Not once. They stayed piercing yours, full of determination.

"Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two..." The cracking sound of the mans neck made you flinch, his lifeless body hitting the floor with a thud.

I did say in-ho would keep you safe. At any cost.

"One."

The door locked behind you as you pressed your back against it, In-ho's stare stuck on you as he stepped over the man's body and towards you. He pushed your body against the door, his hand finding the flesh of your waist as his other hand pulled your neck into a desperate kiss. You became putty under his touch as he dug his fingers into your skin, he craved your touch as much as you did. And it was taking every muscle in his body not to take you and fuck you right now.

Your hands traveled from his chest and up to his neck, pulling him closer. A small whine escaped your pretty lips as he slid his hand up and under your shirt, the same hands he just used to kill for you.

For you.

You felt the door unlock with a click behind you. And In-ho pulled away reluctantly as your head fell back against the door, "I need you Y/N." He brushed his thumb over your red and swollen lips before taking your hand, and leading you out of the door.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"Attention, all players. Lights-out will be in approximately 30 minutes. With the remaining half hour, please disperse, and prepare to return to your beds for the night."

You sat next to Jung-bae who was excitedly talking about the next vote with Dae-ho as you watched In-ho move your mattress next to his. You hadn't dared to tell a soul about what happened in the yellow room, the kiss or the dead guy.

And you weren't going to tell anyone.

You should be concerned, right? Concerned over how easy it was for him to snap a guys neck without breaking eye contact? He was emotionless, cold, really attractive. You had witnessed many fights between him and other men while growing up, especially when it came to fighting over you.

But he never once killed for you. Until now, at least. Were you wrong to think it was really hot?

"Once the lights go out, the ones who wanna stay are gonna come for us." Gi-huns voice broke you from your thoughts, "Killing us would mean they win the next vote. It would also increase the prize money."

In-ho sat down next to you, his hand immediately finding your back, "We have to attack first then, it's our only chance. Those guys assume we're just waiting it out till the next vote. When the lights go down, we should hit them first since they won't expect it." He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, watching is you nod in agreement.

Gi-hun shook his head and leaned in closer to the group, "No, we can't. We'd be playing right into their hands if we did."

"Who is 'they'?" You tilted your head as you asked, failing to notice In-ho's gaze darken.

"The ones who built this whole place. The ones who created the games and who watch us play." The group listens closely, "If we're gonna try and fight anyone, we should be going after them instead."

"Sure, but where are they?"

Gi-hun looks up, "They're up there. At the top of the staircases. They keep everything here running from up in their central control room." He looks back at the group, "There's a man in a black mask who's the head of the operation. If we can get to him, we finally can end this."

In-ho sighs in disagreement, "It's too risky. Even if we manage to get a few guns they'll outnumber us when we try to get out." You feel his hand slide from your back and wrap around your waist.

"What are you suggesting? That we fight the other group through the whole entire night, and hope that we all make it? Is that it, Young-il? Do you really think that's a good plan?" Gi-huns voice is a little raised and you feel In-ho's grip on you tighten.

"Do we... stand a chance?"

"If we can manage an ambush, yes. Those bastards up there, they'll never expect our side to attack. They'll be focused on other things. This is it." You nodded with Dae-ho, ready to fight, "This is our last chance to put an end to these games and make sure they never happen again."

"Lights out in ten seconds."

"Once the lights are off, we have to get under our beds as quietly as we can. We can't afford to get caught by the other side. And we know they'll be out for blood." Gi-hun whispers as he slides under his bed.

You and In-ho follow suit, laying on your stomachs as you peer out from under your bed. You feel the contrast between your shaky breaths and his own steady breathing, and you can't comprehend how he could be so calm.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

"I have a plan." In-ho's voice was barely above a whisper, and a shiver runs down your spine at the sound of a woman yelling.

You look at him, "But, what about Gi-hun's plan?"

You didn't miss the small smirk that played on his lips, "Just stay by my side." Without a word In-ho swiftly moves from out of his bed, pulling you with him.

"Wait! What are you-" His hand came to your mouth as you both hugged the wall while discreetly moving towards the small metal door.

In-ho removed his hand to place a short knock. The small window opened, a guard peering through the flap. Without a single question, the door opened, and In-ho was quick to push you through.

You watched as the guard swiftly opened the bathroom door allowing you and In-ho to enter. You turned to the door as it shut behind you before looking at In-ho, "How did that guard just let you through? I don't understand, we have to go back In-ho."

"Or we can stay. We're safe here- you're safe here." He stood on the opposite wall in front of you, watching as you rested your hand on the doorknob.

He knew you were thinking about going back. But he also knew you weren't going to. He had you wrapped around his finger, just like all those years ago. And you knew it too.

You dropped your hand from the doorknob, biting your lip as you feel him slowly stalk towards you. Need courses through your veins as his hand comes from behind and wraps around your neck, his other hand pulls your waist against him. His lips find your neck and you've melted instantly.

His bulge presses harshly against your ass as he sucks and bites your neck with unhuman desire. This wasn't like when you were younger, when you were flustered and shy. No. You were hungry with want and your eyes were filled with lust.

He whips you around, lips on your own now as he moves you backwards to the counter. Your knees go weak and he lifts you with ease, as if you weighed nothing, and places you on the counter. Your fingers dug into his back, desperate for more. Hungry for him.

In-ho bites your lip roughly, and you give him what he wants, opening your lips wider and letting his tongue fuck your mouth. You were intoxicated, In-ho was the man you thought of each night as you fucked yourself, screaming his name into oblivion. And now here he was, hiking your shirt over your head.

"Y/N." Your name slipped from In-ho's mouth swiftly as he lifts your shirt over your head before his lips find your exposed skin. A small whine escapes your lips as his hot mouth gives your cold skin goosebumps.

It was like that small little noise ignited something animalistic within him, a grunt fell off his tongue as he bit your skin. He loved the way you squirmed as he dipped his tongue into your collarbone, his eyes looking up at you.

Sweat slicked your forehead as your head throws back, your bra falling from your tits, landing on the floor. How did he take it off? His hand didnt even-

oh.

Oh.

You looked at the bra, the back was still clasped.But the straps, the straps were ripped. He had ripped your bra off of you with hunger. But, you couldn't focus on the bra anymore as a moan escaped your mouth, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as In-ho rolls your nipple under his tongue.

He trailed sloppy kisses up to your mouth before stepping back, observing you. He pulls his shirt of with ease, "Take off your pants." It was demanding, and you obeyed. Your fingers trembled as you slipped off your bottoms and panties.

In-ho presses his tongue against his cheek, cocking his head as he takes you in piece by piece. You were sprawled out on the counter, your back resting against the mirror and your chest heaved, "What. What are you looking at In-ho."

"I'm thinking about all the bruises your pretty body is going to have after I fuck you."

He sinks to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he delves his tongue into your folds. You gasp, your legs involuntarily locking around his head. His tongue laps as he looks up at you. His nose perfectly brushes your clit, and he knows it as you rock your hips, "Oh, f-fuck. In-ho please."

He smirks against you as you sputter his name. He feels himself growing harder each time you whimper under his mouth. He drinks you up, your taste slicking on his face as you his tongue finds your clit.

One of your hands remove from the edge of the counter and find its way to his hair, "In-ho please," You pull his hair up to make him look at you, "If you stop now, I-I will kill you."

A small chuckle vibrates through your core as his lips latch your clit, rolling it under his tongue. Your legs pull him closer, if possible, and you feel your climax building. You arch your hips, rolling against his mouth as the need to cum grows louder. In-ho roughly laps on your swollen clit, desperate for your release.

And suddenly the earth stops spinning as you dissolve into pleasure, letting yourself unravel under him. Your body jerks as shockwaves move throughout your body, and you let his name roll of your tongue.

"Scoot down." You do as you're told and wiggle your ass until its slightly off the counter. In-ho watches as you still attempt to steady your breathing, smirking as he dips the waist of his pants down.

Your eyes widen as he places one of his hands on the side of your body, letting him tower over you. Your eyes trailed to his other hand that was busy lining his dick up with your core, but his eyes are on you. Waiting to watch your reaction as you take his cock.

He sinks into you, your breath catching and your eyes closing as he doesn't ease you into it, stretching you out. A grunt escapes his mouth at your reaction, you were so beautiful like this.

In-ho leans back and takes a hold of both of your ankles, holding them above you as he sets the pace. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the counter with one hand and cover your mouth with the other.

In-ho quickens the pace with each thrust, pounding into you like a toy. Animalistic grunts escape his mouth, "Y/N, you're so good for me. I've missed this so -fuck- so much."

You whine at his words, desperate attempts to buck your hips failed. He had you pinned down under you, controlling everything. He can feel the way you grip him, lustful tension building in the air, "Atta girl."

Oh fuck, he feels so good. He fits perfectly in you, just like all those years ago. The passion was still there, and god, he made you know it. You're drunk with desire, clenching around him as the pace picks up. His thrusts are sharp, deep, and you can tell he's close.

Your hands find his face, forcing him to look at you. His eyes met yours as his cock hit every. right. spot. His eyes softened, a contrast to his pornoraphic thrusts. In the middle of everything, all the death around you, you rekindled a love you never thought you would experience again.

Your eyes stay locked as the grip on your ankles tightened, In-ho's head dropping slightly as he came, time slowing as waves of electricity engulfed him. Warmth flooded over your body as he pulsed inside of you, gently laying your legs back down before leaning forward.

He pulled you close to him, his hands cupping your face and his thumb gently lifting your chin, "I love you Y/N." A smile displayed on his lips as he kissed you softly.

You bit back a sob, "In-ho... I never stopped loving you. You've been my person, even when you weren't mine."

He kissed you again, this time with promise. A promise of making it out of the games, a promise of love, a promise of hope.

In-ho never thought much of a future. He always saw himself living for the games. He expected to die as the front man, he didn't have anything to lose. But now he does. He has a future now, and it's you. He is not living for the games anymore. He is living for you.

Would you still love him when you find out the truth?

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

A/N: Hey pookies!! Tysm for all the love recently it's definitely motivated for me to come out of retirement. Pls lmk who I should write for next! I'm in a squid game mood so maybe Gi-hun?

@tsarinaaaz @flowersbloom8787 @vixtyhu @dottoremybbg @fnl9zer @cdej6 @galadoesart @watasinekoru @icantcryicantstopcrying @seasaltrasp @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @gurjxxpp11

#hwang inho x reader #in ho x reader #young il x reader #hwang in ho #in ho #front man x reader #front man #001 #001 x reader #squid game x reader #squid games x reader #squid game #smut #i love old men #im pregnant

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crescenthistory · 7 months ago

Note

can u do a remus x reader where they are best friends and remus has been in love with reader forever, and reader is kind of a player because she also loves remus but didnt know that the feeling was reciprocated

i did a bit of a different take on this, hope you enjoy it babe

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: suggestive references and themes (talk of shagging, etc.), drinking and partying in hogwarts, fem!reader, use of y/n, sirius' pov for half then your pov (with all the mental tirades that includes), partier!reader more so than player, you have snogged james and mary (in the past), platonic!sirius but borderline fwb at one point, platonic!wolfstar, pining!remus, secretly pining!reader, no slutshaming, background jegulily, confessions, happy ending ofc

a blurb about everyone's reaction

Sirius was in a bit of a difficult situation.

On the one hand, he had a beautiful girl all but crawling into his lap in the middle of an admittedly good party and he knew she would be a hell of a great time.

On the other hand, he was absolutely certain that his best friend was in love with her, despite his many denials, and he was not sure if she herself knew yet.

She had to, right? You had to know that Remus was in love with you with how he had been making puppy eyes at you more or less since first year. The two of you were the best of friends and went everywhere together – it was simply impossible that you had not had a conversation or two about it. But then again, Sirius and Remus were also the best of friends and he had not heard so much as a squeak about any such conversation taking place, let alone him admitting his feelings.

Could you truly be so oblivious? You had to know, and are choosing to live your life as you wanted regardless, as is your right. Would Sirius be an arse if he rejected your current casual advances because of Remus? If he was, would he be an arse for telling you about Remus' feelings or for dictating how a woman conducts herself based on the feelings of a man?

Sirius was way too drunk to be thinking any of these thoughts.

Yet, immediate action was required in order to handle the situation at hand. You and Sirius had been sitting beside one another for a while now, your leg thrown over in between his thighs, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, your hand on his chest. The music was absolutely blaring, the alcohol was flowing freely through your bodies, making the places where you touch that much hotter, in all semblances of the word. Sirius knew that if he was to tilt his head down to look at you, your lips would surely smash together.

It was not uncommon for you to shag some lucky bastard at these parties. You were carefree and fun in that way that made you fit seamlessly into your group of friends when Remus introduced you. It was never serious or deep on either front, Sirius knew as much – you and Mary had an arrangement of mutual fun going on for a while and you had even snogged James once before he got with Regulus and Lily.

Sirius participated equally as enthusiastically and the two of you were good friends, so really, it made sense that you ended up in this situation at last.

Still, sirens were blaring in his head screaming "BAD FRIEND, BAD FRIEND" the longer he sat with you like this. Because whenever you did find someone to hook up with at a party, you always left Remus' side to do so, as you were otherwise attached at the hip. And Sirius was the one left to watch him struggle to keep his face from crumbling every time. He was also always the one to poke the bear – or the wolf, if you please – by confronting Remus about his feelings for you constantly, both in a playful and serious manner.

As the designated campaigner for "Remus get your shit together and kiss her yourself", he should not be making that more difficult for his best mate.

He also should not get involved in whatever delicate situation you two had going on, but when his eyes flicked across the room, terrified to make eye contact with Remus wherever he was, determination grew in his chest. Something had to be done.

"Are you good, Siri?" you asked from beside him, words slurred just enough for him to know you were tipsy but not so much that he was concerned.

He took a deep breath. "Actually. Can we talk? Alone?"

Your body grew a bit tense against his, enough that he knew you understood this was not some scheme to get you alone. "Sure," you said wearily, already detangling your body from his.

The two of you got up and hastily made for the portrait hole. Sirius hoped that the cool stone walls outside would help him sober up enough to be able to communicate effectively.

His heart sank just a little bit when he caught sight of familiar tawny hair leaning against the wall by the exit. He knew all too well how this looked. Remus' eyes lit up when they landed on you, his mouth opening to make some sort of greeting when the words died on his tongue at the sight of a guilty Sirius trailing behind you.

You seemed nonplussed. "Oh, hi Rem," you said brightly, almost giggling around your words from the alcohol. You stepped off your path for a second to press a kiss to his cheek, smiling softly at him. "You having fun?"

Remus' face seemed strained, but he kept his smile up, even if just for you. "Yes, dovey. Are you?"

You nodded and squeezed his hand before taking a few steps back and away from him. "Very much so. We're just heading out for a quick chat."

He looked quickly between you and Sirius, never quite meeting his eyes, and Sirius felt as if he was being incriminated just by standing there with his hair slightly tousled from you playing with it. The hurt he could see play across his best mate's face was exactly the type of thing he was hoping to avoid by the awkward conversation he was about to have.

Remus' smile grew more thin-lipped than before as his gaze settled somewhere on your cheek. "Great. Have fun."

You just nodded once more before turning on your heel and making a beeline for the door, seemingly unaware of what just transpired between the three of you. Sirius stalled for a moment, wondering if he should say something, but decided against it in case Remus tried to stop him once he realised what the chat actually would be about.

It didn't much matter, though, because Remus stalked off without ever meeting his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Sirius hurried over to the door to the common room that you were holding open from the outside, smiling back at him. You truly were such a lovely girl, and he hoped to Merlin he was not fucking anything up for you right now.

Stepping through the portrait, he let the Fat Lady’s frame slam shut behind him, cringing at the sudden silence that enveloped the two of you. Though, the air was as much of a welcome reprieve as he had expected it to be, and he breathed in a huge chunk of it to steel his nerves.

"Listen, Sirius, if things got too touchy in there then I'm sor–" you tried to begin, but he all but threw his hands up between you in a display of innocence.

"No, no, dollface, don't you worry about that one bit," he laughed out nervously. "I was very much enjoying myself. I just realised– fuck how do I say this?"

He tried to think clearly and find a way to communicate what he knew in his heart to be true.

"No swearing in my halls!" The shrill voice he knew to belong to the portrait that had tortured him for seven years sounded behind him.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said rather petulantly and held out his hand for you to take so that he could lead you down the hall and away from her. He also hoped you read it as the display of well-meaning friendship that it was.

You accepted his hand gracefully and his heart did calm down just the slightest from it.

The two of you hurried down the hallway, feeling every bit the teenagers that you were, settling down in a corner just far enough away for privacy. The cool stone did marvels for his overheating, and Sirius took full advantage of it by leaning his head back against them.

"What did you realise?" you asked then.

"Huh?" he answered, admittedly quite dumbly.

You had the decency to laugh at him instead of mock him. "Earlier. You said I didn't do anything wrong, but that you realised something."

Sirius heaved a deep breath. "Right, right," he murmured before clearing his throat. Was he overstepping? Possibly. Would he be ripping the bandaid off anyway? Absolutely. "See, I was having fun earlier and saw it as what it was – just two friends having fun, yeah? But I fear not everyone feels the same."

"I swear to Godrick, if you accuse me of having feelings for you, Black, I will chuck you off the Astronomy Tower," you said through a laugh.

"I'm thankfully not that conceited, babe. It wasn't you I was referring to."

You looked at him as if to say who, then?

"I think– or no, I actually know for certain, even if the stupid sod won't admit it. Erm, okay, so. Wow, how do I explain that? He's my best mate, you know, and I–"

"Sirius, you are making no sense right now."

"Remus is in love with you."

You had opened your mouth to volley back, clearly expecting him to still be stumbling over his words, but now it was just left hanging open as you stared at him, baffled. The two of you sat in silence for much longer than Sirius could have expected, or perhaps that was just his nerves dragging out the moment. You seemed to be fighting for breath.

"Excuse me, what?!" you breathed out, voice increasing in crescendo throughout your sentence. The what ricocheted down the hall; Sirius grimaced.

"So, you didn't know," he surmises, having answered his mental tirade from earlier. "I honestly don't know how you haven't seen it, that boy has literally been mooning for you for years. I'm surprised we haven't had to keep the actual Moony from tracking you down and wagging his tail at you once a month."

Your face told him that this was not a time for jokes, yet somehow you still laughed at that. Sirius realised with horror that your laugh sounded rather wet and saw you aggressively wiping at your face, as if you were about to start crying. "I'm so confused," you whispered.

Sirius sat there rather dumbly, unsure how to make it any more clear. "I don't know what to tell you, babe. He has feelings for you, always has. I don't blame you if you don't return them and I'm sure neither will he – but, yeah no, I figured you should know. And while I totally respect you shagging whoever you want, I just don't think he could handle it if it were me. So I have to back out."

Miraculously you nodded in understanding, despite his ramblings. Your movements were slow, as if you were trying to let his words settle in your bones, processing years of misinterpreting in a matter of seconds.

Sirius wanted to help. "I've tried to get him to tell you himself, but he hasn't even admitted it out loud yet."

That seemed to snap your attention back to him, a fierce look growing rapidly in your eyes. "He hasn't told you? Then how do you know?!" You waved your hands between the two of you to emphasise your point.

Not quite what he expected, Sirius found himself scrambling for words. "Everyone knows! It's literally written all over his face whenever you're near!"

"I've been looking at that same face a lot and I haven't seen that?" you question then, wielding your argument as if you were about to disagree with him.

"Y/N. Baby." Sirius tried to articulate his words clearly. "Remus has feelings for you. I swear on my life. You don't have to do anything with that information, I just had to tell you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, seemingly scrutinising every inch of his face. "If this is a prank, you're dead, Black."

"It's not a prank. I swear on Effie and Monty Potter, the absolute angels they are." He held his hands over his heart for emphasis.

"You could be wrong."

"I'm not though."

You hummed in consideration, still not letting him out from the hold of your inspecting eyes. "I have to go find out." You said it as if it was plain and simple, and before Sirius knew it, you were standing above him.

"What?" he said, again dumbly. He should never drink again.

"Thank you, Siri, I'll see you later," you called as you were already moving down the hallway at an impressive speed, given you had been shocked still mere seconds ago.

Sirius remained sitting on the floor letting his head drop back against the stone and his eyes fall shut. He has either taken one for the team or massively fucked up – the best part is that he still had no idea which one it would be.

This was bound to be an eventful evening.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Your heart was resounding through your entire body and you could barely feel the tips of your fingers – not at all because of the alcohol, you were actually quite certain you had more or less sobered up by now.

No, it was because Remus loved you. Remus Lupin, the best friend you could ask for, the unrequited, unattainable love of your life, for some unidentified reason loved you.

According to Sirius, at least.

Merlin, how you would skin him alive should he be wrong.

The party had picked up its pace in the few minutes you and Sirius spent outside in the hallway. Someone had conjured up a light fog to roll around on the floor, allegedly to help with the atmosphere but no doubt it was really because the floor was becoming too filthy to look at directly. Warm bodies pressed into each other everywhere and there was a smell of sweat and drinks that on another day might have been enticing. Right now, you only had one focus.

"Where's Remus?" Your words were rushed as you latched onto the nearest arm you could find, grinning brightly when the familiar face of James came into view.

"Hiya, love," he greeted merrily, his other arm wrapped protectively around Lily. "What's up?"

"Remus. Where is he?" you repeated, albeit a bit more abashedly as you saw Lily glance at James sideways.

"Oh," James said and furrowed his brows, as if he was thinking. Then, he turned his head down to look at Lily who was already regarding him. "Where do we think Moony is, darling?"

Lily shifted her gaze between the two of you while biting her lip. She seemed to be making a quick appraisal. "I believe he headed up to the dorm early. Something about feeling tired?"

Nothing got past Lily, and you could tell from her somewhat smug yet concerned expression that she knew something you did not. Or, perhaps you did.

You let out a quick breath. "Oh." You couldn't help the slight guilt that settled in your stomach – even though you still couldn't know for certain that it was because of you. "I'll go find him, then."

"Are you sure?" Lily asked. "He might want to just sleep it off."

Sleep it off?

You nodded, confidence in your choice growing with every second. "I'm sure, yeah, but thanks Lils."

There was not a speck of judgement in her eyes, though her smile remained apprehensive. "I mean, he always wants to be with you, so it should be fine." She winked at you and suddenly your stomach was dropping because did everyone but you know?

Well, perhaps not James because he looked between you and Lily, entertained confusion written all over his face. "Okay, then. Great? See ya later, yeah?"

You squeezed both of their forearms in thanks before stepping backwards away from them, almost knocking into two people on the way. God, this place was packed. You threw some general sound of agreement that hopefully sounded as warm as you intended before all but running towards the stairs to the boys' dormitory. On the way, you swear you almost lost your life twice, tripping over feet that grew invisible in the fog.

By the time your steps landed on the stairs, you were able to squeeze into the stone wall and quickly run up while avoiding those hanging over the railing. Truly hazardous, these Gryffindors.

The trek down the hall to the dorm Remus had shared with his friends for all seven years of your friendship was as practiced as it was easy. Yet, as your mind was replaying your conversations with Sirius and Lily over and over at record speed, it felt like it stretched on for miles, your own road to Calvary.

Your fingers acted off of instinct as they reached up to quietly rap on the door with two knuckles.

"Sod off," you heard Remus' muffled voice call through the door. You couldn't help the small smile that spread across your face.

You cracked the door open just enough to poke your head through and catch sight of him sprawled out on his bed, face down. Your smile widened. "Me too?"

It was as if his body was a push poppet that suddenly had its strings drawn taut again – his spine straightened and his head whipped around to look at you wide-eyed. He clearly had not expected you. He made some sounds that could probably classify as guffawing before he snapped his mouth shut to sit up and collect himself. The whole process was barely a few seconds, but the syrupy effect on time from the hallway seemed to have joined you into his dorm. Relief washed through your body when he smiled at you, even if it seemed somewhat strained.

"Of course not dove, sorry."

You slipped the rest of your body in through the door and shut it quietly behind you. The silence in this dorm had never felt so complete before.

In your rush to get to him, you hadn't once thought to think of what to say to him. How could you ever possibly breach the topic? It seemed like he could sense your hesitation because he sat more comfortably on the edge of his bed, woolsock-clad feet planted firmly against the floor. He had an inquisitive yet somewhat nervous look on his face.

He beat you to it. "You alright? Shouldn't you be out there, having fun?"

You couldn't help reading some judgement in that, knowing what you now maybe know. "What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, not quite able to hide the potential hurt in your voice.

Remus could pick up on your every mood and his eyes widened comically and he raised his hand as if he was about to talk to a scared wild animal. "Nothing! No, not like that, I just meant – it's a party. You love parties. Did someone hurt you?" His voice grew small by the end of his sentence. You feared someone was referring to Sirius, the only reason he could imagine you leaving a gathering to go be alone with him. You hated the idea.

There were probably a hundred better ways to go about this, but your mind felt muddy with the overwhelming feelings, your earlier drinks and the damn fog that somehow had made its way into your lungs. And you just could not believe any of it.

You were not proud of what you said next.

"Remus, are you in love with me?"

If it had been quiet before, there were no words for the shift in atmosphere after that question. It was like you were alone in a black hole, just the two of you.

Remus' head actually reared back from shock, both from your suddenness and the question itself. His pretty mouth hung slightly open, bottom lip making a slight jerky movement you could only describe as quivering.

"I– what?" He let out, somewhere between a gasp and an exclamation.

You took a few steps closer, so that you were standing in front of him, feeling the sudden need to be near, to hear, to know. "Sirius told me."

Remus jerked up too, standing upright within arm’s reach. His eyes were fluttering and his mouth opening and closing in a way that almost confirmed it on its own. "Y/N, I–"

"Remus." You interrupted quietly, sensing his continued shock and oncoming fib. "Don't lie, please."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered then, eyes growing glossy as they flicked all over your face. "I– I'm sorry."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his pained expression. "I don't understand?" you said weakly. Why was he apologising? "Remus, are you in love with me?"

He shut his eyes and turned his head to the side. Your fears were confirmed when he brought up a hand to wipe at the part of his face you couldn't see. "Please," he begged. "Don't."

Don't make me say it.

You have to.

"Remus." Your tone matched his despairing one – his name was your plea.

He turned his head back to you and met your eyes head on with his own red-rimmed ones. A slow sigh was let out through his nose, the sound of defeat, giving in to you as he always did.

Gods, he always did.

"I'm in love with you," he whispered then. Clearly, without any hint at insecurity or deceit.

You took one small step closer, bringing your trembling fingers up to lightly ghost over his cheeks – not quite holding his face, but almost, millimetres apart. You were sure you looked half-crazed as you stood there in silent shock, studying his face in a flurry.

There was no contempt in his face at your stupor. Just guilt and sorrow.

"Why?" you breathed out.

"I'm sorry," was all he offered, once more.

"No, no, don't say that," you insisted, voice suddenly growing stronger. More certain. Your hands made proper contact with his cheeks, and you could feel him deflate beneath your touch. "Please don't be sorry."

At last some confusion drifted into his eyes as he regarded you. "Don't tell me not to apologise; that just makes me want to apologise for apologising." There was light humour in his tone, a smidge of hope. Hope that you wouldn't believe him awful for falling in love with you.

He was in love with you.

You laughed then, not just at his poor attempt at a joke but at the situation, at the prospect.

"You love me?" There was no hiding the absolute awe in your voice.

The guilt was still there, but it made room for softness as he gave you the smallest, saddest smile. "Of course, dove."

You breathed a sigh of relief and leaned forward to kiss his smile into a happy one.

Remus’ body immediately stiffened beneath your touch, shock radiating through him. Then, beautifully, you felt him soften once more beneath you, felt his eyelashes brush your cheeks as his eyes fluttered shut, felt him blow the air from his lungs through his nose in a long sigh, breath warm and inviting against you. Slowly, you parted your lips and brought his between yours, deepening the kiss. Unlike your movements earlier, there was no urgency, there was just him in your hands, him against your lips, his tongue against yours.

You let one of your hands travel to the nape of his neck where you played with his shorter strands of hair, breaking the kiss to lean your forehead against his. Your eyes remained closed as you soaked up the moment, but you could feel his own burn through your skin. Could hear him guffawing again. A smile settled permanently onto your lips.

“You love me?” you repeated, knowing the answer, but wanting to feel the words on your tongue once more, mixing with him.

He nodded fervently against you, jostling your head slightly to which you let out a soft giggle.

“You– I–” he began, cutting himself off. “You’re not… Do you…?” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

“I love you,” you whispered, in awe at getting to say the words aloud in this context. “I’m so in love with you, my sweet boy.”

His body disconnected from yours briefly, forcing you to open your eyes and support your own weight, as he leaned back to stare at you incredulously, confused, shocked. His eyebrows were furrowed almost as if he were mad, but you knew in your heart that he was not.

“I– no, that makes no sense,” he whispered almost to himself, shaking his head as he tried to process your words. You fought not to laugh at that – because it would seem like you were laughing at him and that was not nice. You would have more than enough time to be not nice later, for now he needed your patience. “You? Love me?”

You nodded with a smile. His body was still close to yours and you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around his waist, interlocking your fingers at the small of his back.

There was so much emotion and vulnerability swimming in his eyes, you would almost feel bad if you weren’t so unbelievably happy.

“I never thought you could have feelings for me,” you confessed breathlessly, grinning wickedly despite the pain you were sharing. “Here I’ve been, running around thinking the greatest love I had ever felt was wholly unreciprocated.”

This only seemed to confuse him further, though he was relaxing beneath your touch. “You… This whole time?”

“I suppose so,” you mused. “I only realised two years ago, though.”

Remus let out a groan and a laugh at the same time and then – thanks to any and every god – he leaned his forehead on your shoulder, burying his face in you. “I cannot believe I’ve been torturing myself and you’ve been… in love with me too. This whole time.”

You dared to kiss the side of his head from where he was leaning against you and tightened your hold on him. Something you had done a thousand times over as his friend, yet this sent entirely new sparks through you.

As if he just thought of something, he lifted his head suddenly to furrow his brows at you. “Why would you ever think I couldn't love you?”

You tilted your head at him. “How many times have you not brushed Sirius off when he makes jokes about us? Or said you would never want to be in a relationship? I thought you might view me as a sister by now.” Despite your teasing, residue hurt still clung to your words.

The grimace was instant and Remus shook his head as if that is the worst thing he has ever heard. “Gods, no, I sure do hope not.”

You both laughed quietly, carefully. His hands were slow as they went up to hold your jaw, fingers brushing the side of your neck in reverence. “I’m sorry I made you think that, dovey.”

“Don’t be. Then I have to be sorry for snogging our friends in front of you.”

Remus flushed slightly at your words, but the awed affection plastered all over his every feature did not waver. “I don’t want you to be,” he murmured while still caressing you carefully. “I just… I just want you. Will you be mine, dovey?”

Your face inched closer and closer to his, your grins growing mirrored against each other. “I am yours,” you whispered against his lips before closing the distance once more.

The most heavenly kisses you ever shared would be those with your lovely Remus.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“Oi! Pads!”

Sirius flinched with his whole body, looking over his shoulder with a sheepish smile to face his inevitable death in the form of one Remus Lupin. He had been waiting for it all night as he partied with James, and had managed to get halfway through his second game of butterbeer pong before it was time for his execution.

Reaching out for James’ hand, he shook it firmly and matter-of-factly. “Lovely knowing you mate, take good care of my brother, yeah?”

James seemed entirely nonchalant to the whole ordeal, shaking his hand in return. “Yeah, sure, safe travels Padfoot.”

Sirius then turned to Remus who was descending the stairs from the dormitory, holding his hands up in defence. “Okay, hear me out–” he begins but he was cut off.

He was cut off by a hug.

Remus borderline slams into him, locking his arms over his shoulders and dragging him close to his chest. Awkwardly, Sirius returns the favour, patting him on the back and making what the fuck eyes at Mary over Remus’ shoulder.

“You’re a meddling bloody bastard,” Remus said into his ear.

Here we go.

“But thank you.”

Oh. Oh.

He reared his head back so that he could see Remus and the shy yet pleased smile he wore, and Sirius’ whole face split into a painful, beaming smile. “It worked?” he asked giddily, jostling Remus where he was still trapped in the hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus mumbled, though his grin grew.

The victorious, screeching holler Sirius let out was so loud it could be heard down to the dungeons.

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doodlenoodleboi · 1 year ago

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Sally face head cannons

Authors note: If you don’t specify I’m gonna pick for you most of the time it’s gonna be headcanons, they tend to be easier and quicker to write.

TW: Not professional, might have misspellings and improper grammar, I just do this for fun. Nsfw, mentions of drugs, stoner Larry, Larry is 2 years older then Sal, some non accurate writing I haven’t watched or played Sally face in years but remember the general plot. Btw when this wrote Sal is 17-19

SFW

◦ Sal doesn’t have the best relationship with his father.

◦ Sal tends to get misgendered a lot to the point he doesn’t even correct people he couldn’t care less anyways and hates unnecessary confrontation.

◦ Sal keeps his glass eye on his bedside table and one nice he actually drunk out of the cup.

◦ Sal isn’t the best at saving money when it comes to video games. He doesn’t spend his money on much In high school besides games for his game boy and other systems.

◦ Sal loves rock music and listens to music whenever he can, he owns an old stereo along with a walk man and mp3 player. (Keep in mind his teen years are in the 90’s)

◦ Along with his hair Sal also ventured in make up in skincare.

◦ Because half of his face being disfigured he tried his best to at least look normal with make up and help it heal better with skincare.

◦ Sal has the worst split ends and uneven layers because he never actually had his hair cut properly he always has done it himself.

◦ Sal is rather geeky when it comes down to it, owning as much technology as he could by in the 90’s.

◦ Sal is most comfortable showing his face to Larry among anyone else almost like a big brother to him of sorts.

◦ Sal gets rather socially awkward when it comes to people liking him so you would have to be in his friend group to have a chance of a relationship or some established connection before hand.

◦ Once you and Sal become friends as he’s comfortable with you expect things like him painting your nails and rocking out to music

◦ If he does later show romantic interest in you before he shows you his face he will be anxious about what you’ll think about him after he shows you.

◦ He’ll even teach you how to play his guitar if you’re interested.

NSFW

◦ Sal Is obviously a virgin it’s hard to get close to him let alone take of his mask so you’ll have to have patience to get to this stage.

◦ For-play could be longer then the actual sex for the first time and he might back out from nervousness before you guys can even start.

◦ Sal is not a shy guy maybe introverted but not shy but moments like this make him extremely vulnerable so he’s flustered and embarrassed.

◦ If you find the courage to kiss him he has his mask on he’s whipped. He would be a flustered and embarrassed mess and he might even tell Larry about how exciting it was. You were probably his first kiss as well.

◦ Sal would be around 5 inches 5.5 hard (let’s be realistic here ain’t nobody taking much past that.) Just enough to reach the back of you’re and make you gag.

◦ Sal even if he’s isn’t pornhub but still likes to prep you, after all sex is a rather sacred thing so he tries his best to treat you with care even with his inexperience.

◦ He would probably be a nervous teenager at the back of Spencer’s trying to find lube (that doesn’t get used) and other things trying not to be seen. Covering up this purchases with a rock album or something of equal value.

◦ Sal is big on after care asking you how it was if it wasn’t obvious, he would be nervous after and still not realizing he actually did that.

◦ Sal isn’t big on giving hickeys but he doesn’t mind being especially on his jawline and neck. When talking to his friends he will just say it a bruise or injury just that’s always been there. But it’s almost obvious that it’s not.

◦ Once you’ve done it once he’s nervous to ask for you to do it again so he does enjoy make out session to keep him down.

◦ Sal didn’t heavily masturbate before hand honestly rarely doing it at all until he had sex once and now that’s all he thinks about ever since.

◦ He loves laying kisses against you when doing it but never hickeys as he’s a bit scared of hurting you.

◦ He holds your hands during sex for comfortability.

◦ His favorite positions would probably be missionary and cowgirl he’s a pretty vanilla switch.

◦ Mostly a service top and a shy bottom, it’s not like he’s generally shy he just gets embarrassed seeing you on top but overtime he gets used to it.

Sorry i accidentally deleted the request!

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whowritessometimes · 1 year ago

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Back and Forth - Art Donaldson x Reader

A Stanford!Art Donaldson and Stanford!Reader fic :) Kinda slow burn, very soft very sweet.

Word Count: 3.9k

---

The California summer sun beamed down on the court, making the colors of the advertisements and signs around you appear almost neon. Upbeat music flowed through speakers that you couldn't quite place, embodying the feeling of the tennis matches that surrounded you, the back-and-forth beat pulsating through your head. It was almost overstimulating, but this was your normal.

You were pre-med at Stanford, volunteering at some local tennis camp to fill your summer and add fodder to your resume. You didn't do much, occasionally helping some rich, pompous kid stretch out their wrist, or their knee, or their ankle, or whatever. The days blurred together, they all spoke to you in the same condescending way. For most people, it would be mind-numbing.

But it was exhilarating. You had this intrinsic love for tennis, you always had. Perhaps it was that love that led you to signing up for this gig, and not the resume experience. But you would never admit that to anyone. You had played tennis for fun your whole life, with your family growing up, with your friends in high school. It was only when you shattered your wrist sophomore year that you had to stop.

It sucked. It sucked at the time, and it sucked now. You weren't professional-level at tennis, not like these people, but it was nice to have a hobby unlike anything else people expected you to do. The pre-med thing, the reading, the studying, it came naturally to you. And it wasn't like you didn't enjoy it, and it wasn't like you weren't good at it, but you loved tennis. And every now and again, you missed it.

So here you were. Your head followed all the heads in the crowd in a practiced, synchronized, subconscious back-and-forth. There wasn't really ever a crowd, the games at the program were often informal, the audience often consisted of coaches and other players. But this was a unique match, Stanford's players engaged in a captivating display of athleticism. It was almost like a dance, the way they seemed to know the moves of the other before they made them. You could feel the intensity from your tent by the end of the bleachers.

Stanford's star player (well, one of them)—Art Donaldson. You'd half-watched him play from your tent whenever you weren't working. He was elusive, but undoubtably one of the best there. You had never spoken. He was enigmatic, focused on his training and on helping others. He had perfect technique, people said. Now, you had the chance to really see how he was. And he was. Top of his game.

Usually.

The air was thick with humidity. Your gaze flickered between the players, boredom warring with the gnawing anxiety that always hummed beneath the surface during matches. Then, a sound sliced through the rhythmic thwack of the tennis balls—a sharp cry of pain.

Your head snapped left like a whip, your heart leaping into your throat. There, sprawled on the opposite side of the net, lay Art. His face was contorted in agony, one hand clutching his ankle at an unnatural angle. His racket lay a few feet away, as forgotten as the polite pleasantries that had filled the air before the match.

The shitty plastic chair beneath you creaked in protest as you scrambled to your feet. Ignoring the surprised yelp from the equally shitty excuse for a supervisor you'd been assigned for the summer tennis program, you sprinted across the court. Dust billowed in your wake, blurring the vision that was already swimming with a mix of dread and the adrenaline rush that always came with seeing someone hurt.

You skidded to a halt beside him, kneeling. His eyes, usually bright with playful competitiveness, were screwed shut, teeth clenched as he fought back a string of obscenities you knew all too well.

"Hey," you said, forcing your voice to remain calm despite the tremor running through your body. He flinched at the sound of your voice, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his normally confident expression.

"Hey," he managed to rasp out, opening one eye a sliver. He tried to push himself up, but his face crumpled again as a fresh wave of agony shot through him.

"Don't move," you ordered, the calmness in your voice surprising even you. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was slick with sweat, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from his injured ankle.

"'S bad, huh?" he breathed, a flicker of vulnerability in his voice.

The concern in his eyes sent a jolt through you. It wasn't just the pain; it was the fear.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice softer now, "We'll get you checked out. Just...hold still."

Ignoring the sting of sweat in your eyes, you carefully slipped your arm around his waist, offering what little support your slight frame could provide. Heaving him halfway onto your leg, you began the slow, agonizing walk towards the medical tent. Each step sent a spike of pain through Art's leg, reflected in the way he gritted his teeth and winced with every movement.

The supervisor, finally spurred into action, scurried behind you, muttering something about ice packs and paramedics. But your focus remained solely on Art, on getting him to help as quickly as possible.

You knew what it was like. Maybe that's what spurred your immediate action, your need to help him recover, to keep playing. You knew what it was like.

The antiseptic sting of the medical tent assaulted your nose as you hovered beside the injured player. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he clenched his jaw with each prod from the trainer.

"Think they all saw that?" he finally rasped, a hint of amusement battling the pain in his voice. You blinked, surprised by his oddly timed humor.

"Doubt it," you played along, a small smile tugging at your lips. "'S not like you're Art Donaldson or anything."

A sheepish grin replaced his grimace. "Thank god."

The trainer finished his work, leaving you and the injured player alone in a tense silence. He cleared his throat, his gaze meeting yours for the first time.

"So," he began, trailing off as he stared into the ceiling of the tent. There was something in his expression, the physical pain, the fear that comes with injury, the odd quiet of an unfinished game.

"So," you mimicked, sitting next to him in another shitty chair.

Something hung in the air, something all too familiar to you. He turned his head to look at you, to make eye contact, keeping his body flat on the cot. You realized then how close you were. Close enough to see his eyes, the sharp point of his jawline, the strawberry blond of his curls.

You averted your gaze, looking out into the brightness of the tent entrance. The typical ambiance of the outside seemed to be drowned by the odd intimacy you'd created together, the silence between you and Art seemed to be the only noise you could hear. His shoddy breathing, despite his attempts to pretend he was okay, only brought you back to when you felt the same way he did, all those years ago.

A blush crept up your neck. You fumbled for something, anything, to break the charged silence in the tent. "I, uh, broke my wrist sophomore year," you blurted, surprised by the words leaving your lips. "Tennis, ironically. One minute I'm playing—probably terribly—and then I'm in the ER holding a bag of frozen peas. And, I don't know, I guess I'm just saying... I get it. Sort of."

"You trying to distract me?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah," you admitted, a hesitant smile mirroring his. "Is it working?"

"Yeah, actually," he conceded, leaning back on the cot. "Tell me more."

You felt a genuine laugh bubble up from your chest, the first since the moment you saw him crumpled on the court.

---

And that was really the last time you saw Art. Suffice to say you hadn't forgotten about the encounter. It was actually stupid, how often you thought of it. He didn't even know your name, but you remembered the timbre of his voice, the softness of his gaze.

In your defense, he was hard to avoid. Now that the spring semester had started, tennis season was in full swing. His picture was plastered around the most of the facilities you frequented, future NCAA champion Art Donaldson.

The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming jasmine hung heavy in the crisp California air as you hurried across the bustling Stanford campus. The semester had sprung with a vengeance, bringing with it the usual flurry of activity—overloaded backpacks, animated discussions about last night's party, and the ever-present anxiety of looming deadlines.

Today, however, an extra weight sat on your shoulders. Your pre-med advisor dropped a last-minute surprise: mandatory tutoring for a struggling athlete. Juggling med school coursework with a part-time job at the campus health center was already a tightrope walk, and adding this felt like a precarious extra step. But you managed it, as you did most things. How you had some semblance of a social life was a mystery. And maybe your very obvious lack of a love life was why you thought about Art so often. You didn't have time to psychoanalyze yourself, though. You barely had time for whatever this tutoring session was about to be.

Reaching the designated classroom, a small, windowless space usually reserved for last-minute group study sessions, you took a deep breath before pushing open the heavy door. The sterile light inside momentarily blinded you, but as your eyes adjusted, a sight unfolded that caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Sprawled across a cluttered table, papers piled haphazardly around him, was a man who you'd spent the better part of the last few months thinking about.

There, unmistakably, was Art. His signature strawberry blond hair, slightly longer than you remembered, covered with a backwards baseball cap, curled at the edges, framing his face. A deep furrow creased his brow, a testament to the frustration radiating from his hunched form as he focused on a massive biology textbook. An unsettling warmth bloomed in your chest, a reaction entirely too potent for a tutoring session.

The memory of him sprawled on the opposite side of the tennis court last summer, his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle, flickered across your mind. The panic that had gripped you then seemed almost comical now. The sterile environment and the way his eyes had held a curious blend of pain and something else—gratitude, maybe?—all formed a vivid memory you hadn't realized had imprinted itself so deeply.

His presence filled the small room, unexpectedly stealing your breath and injecting a jolt of something entirely different into the monotonous routine of your day. A shyness spread across your face, tinged with an unfamiliar nervousness as you cleared your throat, the sound echoing awkwardly in the sudden silence.

A slow smile took over his features as he looked at you, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you were caught in that smile, a memory resurfacing from the hazy days of summer.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice warm. He reached a toned arm, pulling out a chair for you.

"Hi," you blinked, momentarily flustered by the gesture and the echo of familiarity in his voice. There was a moment of tension in the air, of uncertainty, of a strange sense of reconnection. Finally, you managed to force out the words, "How are you?"

"My ankle's a lot better now, if that's what you're asking," he replied with a playful glint in his eyes. His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long, making you hyperaware of the way your heart hammered against your ribs.

"You remember me?" you blurted out, the question leaving your lips before you could stop it.

"Course I remember you," he said, his voice laced with amusement. You couldn't ignore the way his eyes flickered from your face down to your body, and back up. Blatantly checking you out. And you could hear his smile in the way he spoke, warm and genuine, sending a familiar flutter through your stomach. The memory of his teasing laughter in the sterile medical tent resurfaced.

"Right," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You shifted in your chair, suddenly hyperaware of the weight of his gaze on you.

The next hour or so unfolded in a way that surprised you both. Art's initial confusion melted away as you hovered next to him, animatedly explaining each concept. Social life, love life, Art Donaldson, you couldn't explain. Biology, medical stuff, sports, you understood.

And he was beginning to as well. Time became a forgotten entity, measured only by the turning of pages and the occasional frustrated groan from Art. He wasn't the cocky athlete you'd half-imagined, but someone with a genuine curiosity about the world around him and some kind of depth hidden beneath his confident facade on the court.

Finally, Art leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "We should probably call it," he declared, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan. He thanked you, looking into your eyes as he said your name, the syllables dancing off his tongue in a way that made you feel like it was more than a word you had offhandedly mentioned to him.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, your voice softer than you intended.

The study sessions became a regular occurrence. The two of you exchanged numbers, only to arrange meetings, you reminded yourself.

But whenever he called, you found yourself talking about so much more than biology. It started with him asking how you were, a simple courtesy that somehow felt more genuine coming from him. Yet, as you replied, a comfortable ease would settle in. You'd find yourself laughing at inside jokes, dumb stories, the kind that wouldn't be particularly funny to anyone else, would mindlessly tumble out, fueled by the comfort you felt in his presence. It was a kind of nonsense, a space where you could just be yourself, and somehow, it felt like everything and nothing all at once.

---

Now, it was late, and it was finals week.

Papers and textbooks were scattered across your desk, a battlefield of scribbled notes and highlighted passages. You were in the trenches, neck-deep in the intricacies of biochemistry, desperately trying to cram information into your sleep-deprived brain.

Suddenly, the familiar buzz of your phone cut through the silence of your cramped dorm. You fished it out of your pocket, a flicker of annoyance battling with the ever-present hope that it might be a break, a distraction from the relentless onslaught of scientific jargon. Gratefulness shot through you when you saw Art Donaldson's name on the screen.

You answered the call. His voice crackled through the phone, laced with desperation. "I need your help," he blurted out, completely unlike his usual easygoing self. "What the fuck is molecular cell biology?"

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "In general?" you replied, already picturing the hours that it would take to explain the subject. Finals be damned, apparently.

"Can you just come over?" he groaned. "If you aren't doing anything."

You glanced back at the flashcards on your desk. "I'm not doing anything."

So here you were, knocking on the door of Art Donaldson's dorm. You heard rustling from the other side, making you wait just a beat longer in the dimly lit hallway. You rocked back and forth on your heels, chewing the inside of your cheek and rethinking your current appearance. The oversized Stanford hoodie, mess of your hair, and lack of makeup now seemed ill-fitting for a meeting with the boy who had somehow winded his way into becoming your crush. You felt like a kid again, back in high school.

You were starting to worry you had the wrong room until the door swung open, bathing the hallway in a golden, hazy light. There stood Art, moving his large frame out of the way to gesture you into his room with a short greeting and a "thank god." You didn't know what you expected, really, but there you were, slinking a little too closely past him as he stood in his doorframe. You felt his breath on the back of your neck as he stood behind you, guiding you to his tiny desk in the corner of the room. His hands ghosted over the small of your back, and you felt his warmth, despite him not actually touching you.

The room itself was small. It wasn't unlike yours, or any of the others on campus. But it somehow felt smaller with Art next to you, burying his face in his hands every time you patiently explained a concept you'd gone over already. His face. He was so close to you now, the quiet of the night and the room only making you feel closer.

The energy of this study session felt so different from all your others in the past. You weren't in a classroom, or meeting him after practice in the library. You were seeing another side of Art, the part of himself he didn't publicize. Every freckle, the stretch of his faded t-shirt over his body, the curls he brushed out of his eyes every now and again, the way he flexed his callused hands as he cracked his knuckles, a nervous fidget.

It felt like time slowed down. You labored over the biology textbook, finding practice questions and asking him some of your own. You were gentle, cautious. Maybe it was the weird intimacy of the moment, maybe it was the lack of air in the cramped dorm. Your voice was soft, and you couldn't help but notice how the tension Art held over the phone and when you entered the room melted away. Did you do that? You felt this reciprocation, possibly imagined. But whenever you cracked a dumb joke, he'd laugh and put a hand on your arm. The contact always made you freeze. The touch was a reminder he was real, he was tangible. Every fleeting gaze, every smile in your direction.

You had almost reached the end of the chapter, and Art was getting almost every practice question right. You fidgeted with a sheet of his messy notes, reading it over to continue some rant you were on about RNA.

"...made up of nucleotides, which are ribose sugars attached to nitrogenous bases and phosphate groups..." You trailed off, looking up from the papers only to find his gaze already on you. How long had he been looking at you? And the way he looked at you...

"Do you want to take a break?" He tilted his head.

You quirked an eyebrow, unable to fight your smile. "Sure."

He got up with an over-exaggerated sigh and stretched his arms over his head, exposing the bottom of his toned abdomen. For a moment. He reached under his desk, pulling out a box of some cheap canned beer. He popped the tab of a can, taking a long draw and passing it to you.

You looked away from his watchful eyes as you took a sip. Your face heated as you took into account the fact you were drinking from the same can he had.

You winced. "God, that tastes like ass."

"Sorry." He laughed, taking the can from you. Warm, callused fingertips brushing against yours.

"I didn't take you for a Steel Reserve kinda guy."

"What did you take me for?"

"I don't know. Gatorade?"

"Okay." He shook his head. "No more for you."

"Wait, wait, okay, I take it back."

He held out the can for you again.

"Mhm."

"Still taste like ass?"

"It tastes like what I imagine WD-40 tastes like."

You felt your heart swell as he laughed at that. You hadn't noticed how the two of you now sat impossibly closer, thighs brushing, shoulders sending sparks whenever they met. The half-empty can of beer felt like a nervous talisman being passed back and forth between you. Dumb jokes tumbled easily from your lips, punctuated by laughter that echoed weirdly loud in the quiet room. Finals week stress had completely evaporated, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the shitty beer.

It was so easy, talking to Art. Easier than it should have been, considering you were explaining the intricacies of cellular respiration to a man who once thought mitochondria were a type of pasta. But he listened, truly listened, his eyes locked on yours. You caught yourself getting lost in their depths, a dizzying kaleidoscope that mirrored the nervousness in your stomach.

He leaned in, as if to hear you better, and you mimicked the movement unconsciously. The space between your faces shrunk, the air thick with unspoken words. His gaze did its familiar dance—right eye, lips, left eye—and this time, it lingered on your lips a beat too long.

A sudden self-consciousness washed over you. Should you pull back? This wasn't your intention. But before you could overthink it, Art's lips were hovering over yours, a question in the way they hovered, hesitant but hopeful.

"This okay?" His voice was impossibly low, breathy, quiet. His eyes raked over your features, eye contact shifting from left to right, back and forth. His hand, warm and calloused came up to cup your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

"Yeah." You breathed.

The kiss, when it came, was soft and unexpected. More of a tentative exploration than a passionate assault. It tasted of desperation and relief, of unspoken feelings finally finding a voice.

Your hands moved from your sides to toy with the curls on the back of his head, earning a barely audible groan from Art. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, his other hand moving down to pull you impossibly closer by the small of your waist. His touch was shy, tender.

After what felt like forever (and you wouldn't have minded had it been), you pulled away slowly, breathless, a blush painting your face. His eyes searched yours for some unknown answer. For a long moment, the only sound was the ragged rhythm of your breath.

A slow smile spread across his face, mirroring the one blooming on yours. "God, you're so pretty."

Leaving Art's dorm room felt like navigating a dream. Your head spun, a mix of the cheap beer and the potent aftertaste of the kiss. Your lips still tingled where his had been, a brand new sensation that sent shivers dancing down your spine. Relief, sweet and unexpected, washed over you. Months of stolen glances, late-night calls disguised as study sessions, and a simmering tension that had threatened to consume you—all of it had culminated in that single, electrifying kiss.

As you walked down the quiet hallway, a giddy smile stretched across your face. It wasn't just the kiss itself, though that replayed in your mind in a loop—hesitant, searching, then deepening with a shared sense of discovery. It was the way he'd looked at you afterwards, his eyes soft with unspoken emotions, mirroring the whirlwind in your own chest. A nervous flutter remained in your stomach, a delicious mix of excitement and uncertainty.

But beneath it all, a quiet confidence bloomed. He felt it too. This wasn't just some fleeting moment, a stolen kiss in the dead of night. It was a turning point, a bridge crossed, and the future, once shrouded in the haze of exams and unspoken feelings, now shimmered with possibility.

#art donaldson x reader #mike faist #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #mike faist imagine

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coupsalchemy · 5 months ago

Text

Mastermind

Summary - The night he walked in, you knew Seungcheol is trouble. Famous for his fights, athletics, and looks. You shouldn’t be pining over him, desperately seeking his attention, not when he struggles with his own anger, life and himself. You should steer yourself away, but oh god, just a flick of his hand is enough to raise the white flag.

Tags: Seungcheol x f.reader, brother's friend, fluff, angst, romance, ex basketball player! Seungcheol, anger issues, pining, university au

Warnings: none for now

Word Count: 2.8k

The Night

You curl your leg underneath your thighs, snuggling deeper into the end of the couch. The music blasting from the home speakers distracts you from the book you are reading on your phone. Hiphop music, the beats make you bounce along with it even without realizing.

The flat is crowded with your brother’s friends, a party for their victory in a practice match against the rival team. Celebrating for a practice match is ridiculous, and had you throwing your brother out of your room when he informed you.

“A win is a win,” Mingyu, your brother, scoffed, looming over your bedroom door, “and against SNU,” he grins, his eyes gleaming darkly, “then fuck yeah.”

Now you are stuck in babysitting his group of friends, and the stinky players from doing something that may have you pay fines to the leasing office. Boys loom over the beer container, opening one after another, emptying it in an hour since the party started. Girls with shortest dresses you have ever seen, twirls their hair, laughing with their hands covering their mouth at something your brother’s teammates say.

Your eyes dart to the main door searching for a sign of your brother. If someone under haze decides to act out you don’t have it in you to stop a bulky huge basketball player, not when they can easily squish your head with a single headlock. You don’t think threatening will help you either.

It’s friday night, you have to be under your comfy, fresh sheets reading your fantasy series. Not sitting in a corner hoping no one joins you, and worst of it all, start a conversation.

Universe smiles upon you as soon as you think of being invisible as Hansol, your neighbor and your classmate, takes up the seat next to you. Beer in his hand, a flipped baseball cap on his head, sporting a faded rock oversize shirt.

“Cool party,” he tips his drink in your direction.

You smile in reply, your eyes darting to the door again. Where the fuck is he? You suck in a deep breath preparing yourself for the conversation he is gonna have with you.

“Tarot reading, I heard.” He screams over the blaring music, eyeing you taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, Hyejin wanted to try it,” you check your phone for messages from your brother, none, “she is taking classes from her reader too. You should come by,” you invite politely.

“Hyejin is predicting?” He sucks a breath through his teeth, unsure, “isn’t she a craz–” he falters noticing your glare, “cool person. Too cool to read others’ futures? Imagine her predicting he is gonna win gold,” he points his bottle in the direction of Soonyoung who is busy imitating the growl of a tiger to a girl who is equally invested in it, “he won’t even attend the practise sessions anymore. Or worse,” he looks you in the eye, “telling him he was a tiger in past life.”

You chuckle, clearly imagining it unfolding in front of you. Hyejin, your best friend, and as Hansol claims a crazy girl, can tick off someone just so she gets entertained. But you never say no to her, and when she threw the idea of a tarot reading stall for the university festival you started calculating the odds, and drew up a plan to bring it into reality.

“You never know,” you reply to Hansol. “You have to come–”

The main door opens, relief floods all over you seeing Mingyu walk in with a new case of beers, followed by two others also carrying snacks.

Hansol sucks in a breath, “oh.” His eyes train on the people following your brother.

The flat slowly comes to silence, only the music fills up the space. People looming over the empty beer container freeze in their space watching over the newcomers, the girls leave their partner with whom they were busy flirting to the three men.

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head, replacing the empty container with a new one, throwing in the ice too. A boy, with hair till his neck, drops the snacks on the table.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart picks up its pace following the rhythm of the song playing. The other one, bulky frame, his cream-colored fitted top brings out the broad shoulders, firm chest, and his arms alone can make a rock crack. He drops the heavy container, twisting his wrists, quirks an eyebrow at the dumbstruck crowd.

“He’s here?” Hansol looks at you in expectation of an answer.

“I don’t even know them. Mingyu said something about picking up two important people.” You answer distractedly, that man is nodding to something your brother is whispering in his ear. “Who are they?”

Hansol agrees, “they are important, but also,” he leans over whispering in your ear, “famous.”

“Famous?” You never saw them nor Mingyu mentioned them in any conversation. If they are relatively well-known as Hansol says, you would have at least known them fleetingly. “For what? Basketball players?”

Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Jisoo scream on top of their lungs, discarding their drinks and girls, rushing to the two. They should be basketball players. Mingyu is famous around the campus too, the number of girls hanging on him is a testament to it whenever he strolls to your building to meet you.

You tilt your head lost in thoughts, the puzzle pieces aren’t fitting in. How come you never saw them on campus? You did go to a few of their matches to give moral support to your brother.

Hansol continues, releasing you from running different simulations of possibilities, “yes, ex basketball players and,” he tunes up his voice so that you can hear him over the boisterous boys, “one of them graduated. While the other one,” he points his thumb over at the guy surrounded by people, the buff one. “Isn’t playing anymore—” on a second thought he adds “—more like can’t.”

“Suspended?” You guess.

The boys litter around him, laughing, chattering in loud voices about the play in the practise match. Seokmin explains his shot by throwing an imaginary ball, his wrists moving in a smooth friction. He pats Seokmin by the shoulder, his lips in a tiny smile, almost proud. Soonyoung rush in imitating the opposition’s expressions when they lost to them.

Mingyu cuts in, raising a freshly opened beer, “cheers to Seungcheol and Jeonghan.”

“Aye.” Everyone raises their drinks in union, few hollering like a wolf during a full moon. “JEONGHAN!JEONGHAN!” Soongyoung and Dokyeom lift, the one with long hair, bouncing him on their shoulders.

“Ceiling. Ceiling.” Jeonghan taps the boys’ arms to let him down. Hansol boos with a thumb down, others jump in the trend for Jeonghan spoiling the fun.

You chuckle at the ruckus unfolding in front of you, momentarily forgetting the sloshing of drinks on the floor from their cheerful movements, the cleaning you have to do tomorrow? Well, it's for tomorrow you to figure it out.

Mingyu jumps in voluming up the music, bouncing on his feet in rhythm to the beat. Hansol sets his beer on the floor by the couch rushing in to dance to the song. You shake your head at the hoard of sweaty guys throwing their all in their steps. You record this moment, your brother carelessly enjoying the moment after spending countless days and nights in the practice sessions. He is gonna regret it tomorrow when he sees his uncoordinated moves. A laugh tumbles out your lips imagining his horrified expression.

The couch dips next to you, dragging your attention from your phone screen to the person occupying Hansol’s place. Seungcheol leans back, spreading his legs, resting his hand on the arm rest watching the others dance. His hair is longer for a boy’s standard, few of his hair strands poking his eyes, his skin reflects the snow. He slowly rests his other hand on the back of the couch, his fingertips accidentally brushing your shoulder.

His eyes find yours, “Oh.” He takes off his hand, dipping his head slightly in apology.

Your heart picks up its pace, lips parting slightly at the man sitting before you. He is just perfect. From his thick eyebrows to the huge black eyes staring back at you, his cute nose that wrinkles under your attention, and his chapped lips.

“It’s okay.” You remember your words, pausing your surveillance of him.

He nods, turning back to watch the dancing. You stop recording, chewing on your lower lip lost in thoughts. Fuck. He is beautiful. Your hands quiver slightly, your mind racing about him. One more look at him, just one more look, you crumple your sweatpants under your hold, you subtly turn to the kitchen, from the corner of your eyes you see him bobbing to the music.

He is this good, he definitely has a girl back home waiting for him. Desperation claws you, dragging you to the pits of hell and missed opportunities. You need to know more about him, whether he is going to your university or if he graduated, if he has a girl or not. Hansol’s words resurface in your head, ‘he can’t play anymore.’ Why?

“Scoot.” Jeonghan nudges Seungcheol to the center of the couch. Seungcheol steals a glance at you briefly before scooting next to you, his thigh brushing yours, he mumbles sorry again and maintains a distance of thread. He is a hot furnace, your left side is warm from his body, and you catch a hint of wood scent among the stinky smell.

Jeonghan smiles at you in greeting. You greet him back, curling further into the corner of the couch, your sensations heightened at the proximity of him. You scroll through your social media on mute, drowning in post after post. Seungcheol and Jeonghan fall into their own chat, talking about the practice game, mention of someone in the opposite team being present today and Jeonghan saying the kids miss him.

Seungcheol raises his hand, motioning him to stop. “We agreed on something.” The sharpness of his words runs a shiver down your spine.

Jeonghan sighs, “you have to get over–”

Seungcheol shifts to the side, facing his friend. “Jeonghan,” he hisses, his ears turn red, “one more word and I am leaving.”

“Until when will you run away from everything?” Jeonghan snaps back, tired of Seungcheol’s antics. “One and half years, Cheol. Do you think you can get back that time? Moping around, fucking every opportunity is not how you should be living.”

You fidget in your seat unsure whether you can sit here while two friends bicker. You lock your phone, making a move to run away from the awkward situation. You freeze midway standing up, your jaw dropping down to the floor.

Seungcheol grabs Jeonghan’s collar, “you are going to tell me how to live? You?” He leans closer to his friend, “get yours together before you wander off to advise someone else.”

Jeonghan pries his hands off his collar, “this is what I am talking about.” Calmness in his voice never wavers, his gaze steady on his friend who looks a second away from losing his shit. Seungcheol’s face is red, a nerve on his forehead pops out. An alarm goes off in your head as Seungcheol fists his hand, raising it to hit his friend.

Mingyu barges in, shielding Jeonghan from Seungcheol’s wrath. “Guys. Guys.” He laughs nervously, sobering up. “Chill.”

Seungcheol gapes at Mingyu, blinking, his lips part in shock, and he looks at Jeonghan, his eyes shaking realizing what he was about to do. He lets go of Jeonghan’s collar, reeling back. “Excuse me,” he stands up with a wince, walking off into the kitchen.

Whispers burst outs as soon as he is out of sight.

“I knew it. I was expecting this to happen.”

“Seungcheol changing? Being a better man? Who are you kidding?”

Jeonghan glares at the gossipers, disappearing behind his friend into the kitchen. Mingyu rubs his temples, shutting his eyes in pain. You stand rooted in your place still processing what just happened. He was about to hit his own friend. You can never even imagine hurting your best friend Hyejin, or anyone else for that matter. Is this why he was thrown out of his team?

“Here he goes again,” Hansol appears by your side again, his hair dishevelled, and panting from dancing.

“Again what?” You ask.

“Anger issues. His uncontrollable anger tendencies made him despicable, and most hated among his teammates before,” he pauses, a downturn smile on his face, “his injury.”

“Injury?”

He nods and leaves when someone drags him back. You wanted to inquire more about this, there are so many questions raising inside you.

Mingyu smiles at you in apology. “Sorry, I put you through this tonight.” He loops his hand over your shoulder. “Were you scared?”

“A little.” You whisper in his ear in a scandalous tone, “he was about to hit him.”

Mingyu chuckles ruffling your hair. “They are good. It happens every time.” He adds seeing your unsure expression, “trust me.”

Seungcheol and Jeonghan walk out just in time. Jeonghan has his arm around Seungcheol who is still pissed but calmed down.

Mingyu drags you to them, “meet my sister.” He introduces you to them with a proud smile, “you guys scared her. She is just a baby.” Mingyu pats your head lovingly, bringing you closer to him.

Sober Mingyu is affectionate enough, but drunk Mingyu’s affection goes over the top. You struggle to get out of his iron grip, he doesn’t realise still that he is practically choking you.

“Let her breathe,�� Jeonghan helps prying Mingyu off of you, “I’m sorry about earlier.” Jeonghan scratches his eyebrow with an awkward smile, “you don’t have to worry, we are all good.” He looks over his shoulder to the man who is watching us, “right, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol diverts his attention from you to his friend with a frown line between his eyebrows. Under Jeonghan’s stern gaze he falters, nodding begrudgingly.

Your dead heart picks up its beat at the slight pout on his lips. He sulks at his friend, shoving his hand off when he reaches him to coo at the sight. Jeonghan lets out a hearty laugh.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, stepping in front of you. “I’m Seungcheol.” He extends his hand, you tentatively accept it in a meek grip. He tilts his head a little, studying your red cheeks. “I thought you reminded me of someone but didn’t realise you are Mingyu’s little sister.”

He towers over you a little, making you look up to see in his eyes. His scent wraps around you bringing in a pleasant mood (also birthing a feral side in you).

Your sweet brother with his sweet timing appears by your side again. A drink in his hand of course. He grins at you, but it falters as he notices Seungcheol’s hand in yours. He wraps himself around you again protectively, taunting Seungcheol, “hey.”

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow, fascination in his eyes.

“My sister is out of bounds. Don’t even think of dating her.” Mingyu hovers over Seungcheol, “she is too precious for peasants like you.”

This is a perfect time to dig a grave and bury yourself.

“Enough drinks for you,” you pluck out his drink from his hand, “let’s put you to sleep.” You hold his hand in a feeble attempt to drag him, even his hair doesn’t move let alone him.

Seungcheol chuckles, nodding to Mingyu. “Understood.” His gaze flees to you for a second, “your sister is precious.” He holds Mingyu on the other side, “show me your bedroom, Mingyu.”

Jeonghan offers to let him take Mingyu to his room too, freeing you. You lead the way to his room, opening it to find two strangers making out on his bed. Ugh. They scramble off in embarrassment.

“A moment,” you quickly pull off the sheets from the bed, and put on new sheets haphazardly. Seungcheol and Jeonghan throw Mingyu on his bed roughly, earning a hey from you.

They grin sheepishly. “We will get going now, precious.” Jeonghan waves, laughing at your rapidly becoming red face. Seungcheol joins him, waving at you. He smiles, his eyes forming crescents like a soft boy stark contrast to what you saw earlier.

“Bye.” You tuck your hair behind your ears.

The door closes behind them, you fall onto the foot of the bed, clutching your racing heart.

He was suspended, had fights with his own teammates and his best friend. He might be a walking red flag, you should be scared and running away in the opposite direction.

Mingyu hates it whenever someone approaches you with other intentions, he is protective and he already gave a warning.

Yet, you groan into the palms of your hands. He is attractive, handsome and sexy. You want him. Despite thousands of warnings going off in your mind, you want him in your life.

#seungcheol #scoups #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol imagines #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fic #fluff #seungcheol drabbles #seventeen

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yes-no-maybe-soo · 5 months ago

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[x]

Go get their greedy a$$es, CN girlies 👑💯 From my understanding the CN boycott is beginning to move beyond just kittens, slowly spreading out to the rest of the fanbase. Which is great! The more people join, the bigger chance of success.

The fact that the hairstyles and outfits are pulled separately for this banner is asinine. If you look up money hungry in the dictionary, you'll find a group photo of Paperfold's higher-ups.

I am fully onboard with the CN girlies demand for more rewards during grinding. The droprates are extremely low rn and it's unjustifiable.

I think it's fitting to also include this post here showing the struggle players face in endgame

[x]

Like I mentioned in a post of my own, grinding for Dias in endgame is infuriatingly difficult even for whales or dolphins (ie the people that can afford to invest in all 5 LIs). In the long run this will be unsustainable. A change by Paperfold is necessary atp. Remember, they are a multimillion corporation. They can absolutely afford to be more generous. So why aren't they? Answer: they're greedy and, as long as players let them, they will push this behavior as far as they can. To the detriment of their game. They are showing a blatant lack of regard or respect for their playerbase with this stingy behavior.

I personally feel like the upcoming banner — and the separate hair + outfits — is a cash grab by Paperfold. LADS flopped hard in January and now the company are scrambling to recover. So I feel like the course they'll ultimately take in the future hinges a lot on the success — or lack thereof — of this new banner. If it succeeds, well, then they know that all they need to do is throw sexy banners at us and they're off the hook. No need to implement changes. If it tanks however, then they'll have to face the music and listen to their consumers. Rein in their greed. Make things right. Communicate. Treat the LIs equally (this is my hope anyway as a Sylus girly b/c let me tell you it's rough out here). At least this is my assumption. It'd be idiotic of them if they still refuse to heed their customers and ignore the boycott. Especially considering how much their Scrooge McDuck a$$es obviously love money.

Let's hope for the best and, if you can and want to, please do join in on the boycott. The most effective way of doing so is not to spend money during the banner and to refrain from pulling even using red dias or tickets for the first 3 days of the banner period. And also to limit your time on the app during the same timeframe (that is, 3 days). Spread the word. Send a message with your wallet. Don't encourage blatant greed and mistreatment. We as consumers hold more sway than we think. Remember, we are boycotting out of love for this game and a desire to see it thrive for years to come as well as to prevent it from becoming entirely P2P. Because if Paperfold gets away with their current behavior, then more and more players will eventually get turned off by a game that essentially forces you to spend considerable chunks of your hard earned money for the bare minimum. Again, and I'm not saying this lightly, it'll be unsustainable.

#justice for sylus #(and lads as a whole)#love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #lads zayne #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads caleb

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distantdarlings · 2 years ago

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TEETH TO BONE // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 1.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - You come to your best friend's dorm room after not being able to sleep. He makes a decision that changes your relationship forever. *Theo's POV* (Romance)

+ WARNINGS - Heavy kissing, a bit of petting, someone kisses w/o that person's permission

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Touch - Troye Sivan

---

The sheets in the morning always caught Theodore’s attention. In those early hours when the sun's warm shades had not yet overtaken the cool, the birds still refused to sing, and the residents of the castle hadn’t yet awoken. It was a rarity for him to wake up at this time naturally—it didn't always have the same effect. But when he opened his eyes to the milky hue that stained the floor and felt the luster within his sleep-filled eyes, an instant feeling of comfort washed over him. This was always quickly followed by an unnerving question of life itself and the reason for these comforting feelings, but before this came along, there was comfort.

It was the folds in the sheets that traced over his legs and the imaginary body lying next to him; the soft dancing of eyelashes over cheeks; the supple pink of another’s lips--someone in particular, not just anyone; and coffee with just enough cream to where it matched an old pair of corduroy trousers. These were all things that made him feel equally as comfortable as that morning light. The lips, though, were an image that often flashed in his mind. As were the sheets and the unfairly long eyelashes and the corduroy trousers. Each day, Theo found himself aligning more things in his personal thoughts to that of someone like you. He might hope to consider you his love but would never truly do so for the looming sense of rejection that hung over him like a rain cloud.

The door in the corner creaked with a symphony of old wood and rusty nails. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but the sound was as nostalgic as the crackles within the records that he and you used to play, sitting on the floors of each other's bedrooms. Theo smiled gently at the memory, remembering the feel of the hardwood beneath your ankles and the looks in both of your eyes. If he wasn't crazy, he might have thought that this is where his heart first opened up to you. Where he first realized how badly he craved your touch instead of any of the girls or guys his mates eyed in town.

"Teddy," a whisper like crinkling parchment tickled the shell of his ears. Only you could call him that.

"Are you awake?"

Theo pushed himself up into a sitting position, feeling the sheets tangle around his feet in a new position than they previously had. His eyes met that of a bedroom floor record player in an embrace with a cotton touch. You smiled, showing off the teeth that Theo found so endearing. You shifted a bit in the doorway, rubbing your bare thighs together in an attempt to gain some warmth. You were still wearing the shirt and the shorts that you’d been in the night before—the ones that made his stomach kiss his chest.

He caught onto your sense of embarrassment and beckoned you over, your nightshirt a bit too big for you. The sleeves reached the tips of your fingers in a rather demeaning manner. You sauntered over before stepping into his bed, crossing your legs and placing your hands comfortably between each thigh. The shirt you wore was ill-fitting just as his but in a different way. The cotton material lay against your chest which didn't dare to touch. Your skin pulled tight over your bones and made a passionate embrace with the fabric as it hung off you in a rather languorous way that caught Theo’s attention rather quickly. The collar delicately caressed your exposed collarbones that cut like knives and burned like fire in the pit of Theo’s stomach.

"Alright, love?" Theo whispered, his voice cracking from the pressure of the morning. You looked down, a few strands of hair falling into your eyes. You didn't seem to notice.

"Couldn’t sleep, I reckon . . . ," you spoke just above a whisper, the tenor undertones in your voice making the hair on Theo’s arms stand up. Without thinking, the brunette swiftly swiped the hair out of your eyes with a single thumb, just barely brushing your skin with his own. His eyes found yours in a breathless escape, attempting to analyze what you were feeling. Theo could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he wondered if you could hear it as well. His hand fell limp at his side in an embarrassed fashion.

Your mouth opened as if to speak but closed once more. You seemed to be debating on whether or not to say what was dancing on the end of your tongue. Theo desperately wanted to hear what you had to say. He wanted to know if it was a negative or a positive that he had touched you in that way.

"Teddy—" you began but Theo pressed his lips to yours before you could finish. It hadn't been something he’d thought about before doing. He just did it. His hands remained tightly pressed into his lap, not wanting to push himself onto you any further. He felt bad for doing this in the first place, he just needed to feel the person he'd known for so long in the way he desired. He expected you to push him away or run or something but by the time he realized those things could possibly happen, he knew that this kiss had been extended much too long to be a hormone-fueled act of blind passion.

Your lips no longer remained dormant but moved against his. Yours cradled his bottom lip with a gentle touch—much too gentle for him. He pressed his hands to either side of your face, pulling himself onto his knees. You rested comfortably between his thighs, knees dug into the mattress, as your shoulders were against the headrest. He steadied you, feeling his fingers trace the lower part of your posture. Theo groaned breathlessly into your mouth, politely insinuating that he needed a breath.

You slowly pulled away, your lips joined in a messy trail of spit that disconnected as you rested your forehead against his. Blue eyes met yours in a frenzied heat of repressed desire as dry throats held the hunger of fasting lovers. Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, eyes flickering down from his bewitching eyes to his swollen lips, painted with your love.

"More."

It was a single whisper. Nothing too dramatic or emotional, just the hoarse beg of a starved man. You took Theo’s lips back onto your own, much more fervently than before, feeling his desperate breath against your cheeks. Theo’s hands fell to your hips, his fingers brushing the bare skin there. You winced into his mouth at the cold touch of his rings, your fingers tightening into his hair.

Theo pushed off from the headboard and gently laid you back on the bed. He hovered over you in a protective guard, shielding you from all other eyes in the outside world. His lips touched against your neck like a feather, only barely ghosting against your soft flesh. You knew that the man above was like a god and you worshiped him as such. Lips to skin, teeth to bone. The young god's hands held onto you like a lifeline, exhaling syllables packed with amour and white-hot lust in your ear.

Theo’s hand slid delicately beneath your shirt, caressing the warm skin stretched over your ribs. You could feel his heart drumming through the rest of his body like a bomb ticking away. It teased you, daring you to take control. He wouldn't let you, though, you knew this well enough. The man in question slid down your body and pulled you by the back of your knees until your head was resting against the pillow. His knees lock you in place. You couldn't go anywhere even if you wanted to.

"Are you sure, love—" Theo whispered breathlessly.

"Merlin, Theo, yes," you spoke. You were surprised you even got the words out with the way your pulse was pounding in your ears. It knocked against your brain, imprinting a tattoo of lust within your skull.

If Theo died right now and the last thing he saw was you beneath him, pressing your lips against his undeserving flesh and tracing your fingers down every individual scar, freckle, and anomaly on his body, then he'd take it.

#theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fanfiction #smut #theodore nott x reader #harry potter smut #slytherin #creative writing #oneshot #reader insert #fanfic

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sanesaviour · 4 months ago

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Danny☀️

Here are some headcanons about him and other characters:

1. He spend most of his life in K’un Lun, so living in New York is big culture shock for him, feels like different universe for him and at first he was really struggling with New Yorks pace (like K’un Lun is definition of patience and peace while New York is complete chaos), he is still learning how juggle his superhero duties, training and just living in such a chaotic city without feeling overwelmed. Also the technology and social media is wild west for him, even tho he tries really hard to understand it better and is really interested in modern technology he always ends up in situarions like: ,,why is my phone working so slow?” Turns out he has open like 100 tabs… but somehow he is really good at using his mp3 player (he really loves music and has very questionable taste in it)

2. He is super chill about everything, he have that laid-back attitude and also fashion, like he wears very loose comfy clothes and tries to just blend in (he fails) and I like to think like he is popular at school but on accident and he doesn’t even realize it coz everyone just like how chill he is all the time. Most of his teammates are jealous of this and he doesn’t get why, he is just too clueless

3. Vegan (I thought this was just my headcannon but after starting S2 turns out it’s actually cannon in show too lol)

4. Danny is fist one to accept Peter as new teammate but also as friend, he is only one who has beenkind to him since beggining, they are really good friends even tho most of the time they are alone together they don’t talk just vibe together

5. Danny teaches Luke how to be more book smart and luke teaches danny street smarts, they are best bros actually and later ends up on lot of missons together. And I feel like Luke likes to joke about Danny’s fancy origins like: “Did you learned this moves while sipping on some mystical tea and writing poetry?” Danny never gets those are jokes and is always like: “yea, how did you know? :D”

6. Ava and Danny both likes to read, they both can go hours withour saying anything and just reading next to each other… others likes to point out that they are like grandparents when they do that, also I think being disturbed while reading only thing that can get danny out of his chill guy mood. While Ava does that “shhhhh” thing while being disturbed Danny just stare at them with really cold and done expression which says: are you gonna shut up?

7. Sam is the one who actually teaches Danny about modern technologies and stuff. He also gives Danny nicknames like for example Zen guy… he likes to make fun of him but he secretly admires how cool Danny can be with his whole mystical vibe around him and on the other other hand Danny admires Sam’s jokes and even sarcasm (when he finally gets the whole concept about it) and is very fast to learn those skills from him (Peter thinks Sam is ruining him lol)

8. Okay this one is bit awkward but I think lot I can’t be the only one who thought about this… so I remember during history classes it was mentioned multiple times that most monks practice celibacy and some of them don’t even come to contact with woman for most of their life’s… SO- I think that at beginning Danny don’t really think about relationships, don’t mind spending time with someone of opposite gender, he views men and women as equals and he doesn’t feel any attraction to anyone, he is very focused on training… ofc due to his “popularity” some people try to hit on him but again he is clueless about it, but at some point someone will make it very obvious that they are into him and he will do nothing about it but this moment will start his overthinking literally every human interaction phase and internal morality fight like he really would like to experience date but his mind is always like “why are you thinking about this? You are such a disgrace to K’un Lun!!!” Also he would go from talking w everyone same way to being speechless and all flustered around opposite gender… once that would happened even with Ava and her first thought about it would be something like he have some problem with her so she wouldn’t let him be until he tells her what’s wrong with him, so basically she would force him to spill the truth… then she would just laugh and make puns about it really often in front of others and he always tries to stop her so it looks like it’s some stupid inside joke of theirs which no one else gets

#ultimate spider man #usm #marvel #spiderman #fanart #danny rand #iron fist #ava ayala #peter parker #sam alexander #luke cage #my art

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yeonzzzn · 1 year ago

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to be popular: park jongseong

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 2.3k

synopsis: when all you want is to be in the spotlight along with your best friend and he helps you out.

genre: childhood friends!, popular!jay, friends to ?, smut.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, fingering.

a/n: had this in my drafts for awhile and finally decided to finish it up! enjoy it! ~

“Do you think he would though?”

All Jay could do was lock eyes with you at your question. This was normal for the two of you at parties.

“YN…” He sighs, lifting the beer can to his lips, “You know how I feel about this.”

You pouted at your best friend, clenching the empty beer can in your hand, and hearing the crack of the tin above the music.

You wouldn’t call yourself a loser, but you weren’t exactly below a loser or even more than a loser. You were just normal. Completely and simply normal. Jay though? Has been the most popular guy since kindergarten.

The two of you grew up together as neighbors, both being the only children in your families, it was only natural you both grew attached to each other. Jay was popular from the moment you both started school. And as the years went on it only got worse. As a child, you figured your popularity would come along with being best friends with Jay, mostly since homeboy was the captain on every sports team he played on and was even top of your class as well. Not to mention he was the head guitar player for the school's band growing up as well. Jay had multiple reasons under his belt for being popular. But you were always in his shadow. The most people knew of you was that you lived next door to him and were one of his best friends. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And it infuriated you.

Nothing you did put you in the spotlight. People barely remembered your name or who you were until you were standing right next to him. At first, you thought it was just kids being mean, but as the years went on, you slowly learned that maybe it was just you. Someone who was forgettable.

Jay always got pissed off with you anytime you would mention how forgettable you were, “You’re literally my BEST FRIEND, YN!” he’d snapped at you, “You’re everything but forgettable.”

Sure, you had some boys knocking on your door for attention, and you’d give them it. But your popularity never went anywhere. It’s not like you even wanted the popularity for the attention really, you just wanted to feel like an equal with Jay. To have everyone remember your name and who you were. To not be well…barely above a loser.

“Jay,” you turned your body fully towards him, lifting your knee to your chest and taking a hold of the burnt orange colored couch with your free hand, “It’s a yes or no question!”

Jay chugged down the rest of his beer and shifted his eyes from you over to Heeseung, the guy you are basically begging him to answer on if he’d be down to fuck you. Heeseung was a friend of Jay’s and also one of the most popular guys at your college. Heeseung has a reputation for fucking any girl who comes his way. Jay knew it was only a matter of time before you resorted to trying to get Heeseung to spread your legs.

Heeseung was probably six or seven drinks in at this party and was currently getting touchy with another girl in the kitchen. Eyes completely locked on her.

Jay looked back at you with a slight smirk, “He looks busy.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not what I'm asking.”

Jay looked down at the coffee table in front of him, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Why did this matter so much to you? Chasing after popular guys at the college just to get your name out there. Jay never understood why you wanted this popularity. If anything, Jay wished he was in your position. To be normal and not have multiple females at every party he attends jumping his bones.

And quite frankly, Jay was tired of having this conversation with you.

“I’m not answering this,” he said with a wave of his hand, “You know I don’t like the idea of you throwing yourself at random guys just for attention.”

You tossed the empty beer can on the table and clenched your fist, starting to get up from the couch, “Fuck you then, if you feel that way. I'll try to seduce him myself.” This is how every conversation about this topic goes with Jay. Him always shutting you down. But you've had enough of it.

And apparently, so did Jay.

Because you were down flat on your back on the couch with him hovering over you.

“J-Jay,” you glanced your eyes around the room, “W-what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer you, taking your arms and pinning them above your head, his lips now attached to your neck. Your body reacted in a way you weren’t expecting it to. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access to you. Your heart rate increased, and the thoughts not circulating in your brain scared you.

“Jay,” you called his name again, shifting yourself as best as you could away from his lips.

One of his hands left your wrist and took your jaw between his fingers, “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Jay hovered his lips above yours, barely brushing them together and sliding his free hand down to the button of your jeans, “To be fucked like a slut publicly. All to be popular.”

He was angry. Frustrated. Pissed at every man in this room that you’ve tried to pull into bed with you. Pissed at you. This was the only way he knew to not only set you straight but also get his feelings out of the way.

He pressed his lips to yours in the same motion of unbuttoning your jeans, his cold fingers slipping down your panties and rubbing at your folds, humming against your lips, “Already so wet? Just from me barely touching you?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, lifting yourself to connect your lips back together. Jay’s cock twitched at your sudden action and pushed two fingers into your cunt, groaning at how perfectly you clenched around him. How perfectly you feel.

It amazed him how unfazed you were right now. Jay was sure you’d push him off or snap at him for even making a move on you. The two of you were best friends after all, and never once crossed this line until well, now. Jay could blame it on the alcohol he’s consumed. Could even blame it on all that you’ve had to drink as well.

But it was all further from the truth.

Jay pushed his fingers in you faster and parted your lips with his tongue, wrapping the muscle around yours. He was getting so drunk off your taste. Was so turned on over the fact you’re letting him do this to you in the middle of a public college party. You surprised yourself. Your whole plan was just to get Heeseung to make out with you in front of everyone and then drag him off into an empty bedroom or even the bathroom. The last thing you expected was your best friend to be knuckled deep in your pussy and his tongue down your throat.

And by god with the way he was working his fingers in and out of you, you knew your orgasm was fast approaching. As if he already knew how to work your body before even touching you.

The truth…he’s only ever dreamed of how it would feel to do something like this with you. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and looped them at your jeans and pushed them down and leaving your mouth, “You’ve made your rounds asking every single fuck boy possible,” he scoffed, flying his hands to undo his belt, jeans button and zipper, “To fuck you like a slut all for popularity.” The truth…the truth the truth the truth, “Asked everyone but me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, a new feeling sinking into your heart. He sounded angry, his face showed hints of jealousy as his eyes pierced into you and his hands worked at shoving his pants and boxers down past his hips, setting his cock free.

It surprised you how willingly Jay was to do this. How he didn’t seem to care that he was about to fuck you on a couch in the middle of some random party with everyone around to witness it. But it’s what you wanted, right?

Jay lined his tip to your entrance and wasted no time pushing himself in, flinging his head back when it kissed your cervix, “Fuck, YN,” he hissed, taking your wrists back in his hands to pin against the leather of the couch. Jay was already seeing stars at how perfectly you felt wrapped around him. How good you felt. Like your cunt was made for him and him only.

He fucked into you hard, keeping his face tucked perfectly in the crook of your neck. You tried to keep your moans down, eyes wandering the living room to see if anyone was watching.

“Why are you so nervous now, baby?” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you harder, “You wanted this,” You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your calm to focus on that pain instead of the pleasure he was giving you down south, “Everyone fucks at parties. Moan for me, YN. Let everyone see how good I’m giving it to you.”

He bit down into your neck and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your lips parted and a loud wet moan escaped. Jay smirked at the sound, darting his eyes over to Heeseung and loving the way his friend's jaw was dropped and eyes locked onto the two of you.

“See that, baby?” he cooed, “All eyes are on you now,” you barely tilted your head to the side, seeing Heeseung and the female at his side both staring at you and Jay. Seeing the eyes of random partygoers staring as they walked past the living with their eyes wide. Heeseung finally closed his mouth and tucked his lips between his teeth, making Jay spiral, “See, now he fucking wants you,” you looked back at Jay, seeing the fire burning within him, “No one is allowed to have you, understand?”

He slid his hands down to your hips, squeezing them tightly as he fucked into you faster and harder, forcing more moans to leave your lips.

“Asked everyone but me to fucked you,” he scoffed, “Never once did you think to ask me. Would have done it with no second thoughts.” The truth the truth the truth, “I’ve dreamed of having you underneath me like this, wrapped around my cock so perfectly. I’ve been so in love with you since we were kids. Kids, YN.” his anger burned hotter as he unleashed all his emotions, “Never gave a fuck how unpopular you were. Never cared that no one knew who you were because I wanted you all to myself,” he pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his lips to yours as he moans out from the pleasure, “But you? You just wanted to be popular.”

You pulled your wrists from his hands and tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing him down to you to connect your lips together and wrapping your legs over his hips, “I only care about you right now, Seongie. Who cares about being popular.”

Your words had his heart doing flips. He finally got to you after so long. He smiled and looked back at Heeseung, feeling even more excited knowing Heeseung was still very much watching. It only pushed Jay to fuck into you faster. Harder. To kiss you harder. To bite your lip and pull and squeeze your hips harder to force you to arch your back at his every touch and pull. He loved knowing that another man was getting hard just by watching him fuck you. Loved seeing said man thirst for you knowing he wouldn’t be able to have you.

You belonged to him. Always had. And always would. Because Jay isn’t letting you go after this.

He kissed down your jaw and to your neck, “I’m fixing to cum, my love,” he whispered, placing opened-mouthed kisses to your skin, feeling the way you clench around him, “And I know you’re at your limit too.”

You nodded, tanging your fingers more into his dark hair and pulling slightly, “I want to cum with you.”

He chuckled, sliding one hand to your thigh and the other cupping your face, “All you had to do was ask,” and he pressed his lips to yours, moaning into your mouth as he gave one final thrust and squeezed the plush of your thigh. You both were filled with so much ecstasy as you came together. Breathing in each other's breaths.

Once his head stopped spinning, Jay quickly pulled his jacket from his body and covered your lower halves, “I don’t need Heeseung over there seeing any more than he already has.”

You giggled at him, sitting yourself up on your elbows, “You didn’t seem to care that I was exposed earlier.”

Jay pinched your jaw between his fingers, “Not my fault you wanted to act like such a slut earlier.”

You bit at your lips and gave him pleading eyes. Loving the way he smirked down at you.

“You got your wish though, my love,” he said, pulling out of you and keeping the jacket in place as he pulled his jeans back up over his hips and helped you pull yours up too, “To be popular. Everyone will be talking about us now.”

You pulled at his shirt collar and kissed him tenderly. Never did you ever think your childhood best friend would be in this position with you. To be so in love with you. Deep down you felt the same and didn’t want to admit it to yourself. And it only took you acting on your said wish.

“At least we both will be the talk.”

Jay just chuckles against your lips, “Only come to me when you want a good fuck, ya? You’re mine.”

—perm.tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

#jay bae #park jongseong #jongseong park #jay park #park jay #jay x reader #reader x jay #park jongseong smut #park jay smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #yeonzzzn writing

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izzih22 · 3 months ago

Note

a cute one after the natty win- after party, deunk DGAF pazzi?

One Last Dance

Note: I think I did what you asked for not completely sure…

They won.

National Champions.

UConn was back on top—and Paige and Azzi were right in the middle of the storm.

The confetti was still falling when they announced it.

“Most Outstanding Player of the Tournament: Azzi Fudd!”

Azzi didn’t even react at first. Too overwhelmed, too stunned, too full of adrenaline and champagne breath.

Then Paige screamed.

“YES AZZI!” she shouted, practically punching the air as she jumped into Azzi’s arms, nearly knocking them both over. “BEST PLAYER IN THE NATION RIGHT HERE!”

Azzi buried her face in Paige’s neck, laughing and crying and shaking all at once.

“We did it,” she whispered.

“You destroyed it,” Paige beamed, cupping her cheeks with no regard for the cameras or crowd or ESPN sideline interview ten feet away. “You’re unreal. Like angel-level unreal. I’m in love with the best shooter and the best player on the planet.”

Azzi, dizzy with champagne and confetti and Paige’s hands, just smiled like a giddy idiot. “You’re proud of me?”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

Azzi looked like she was going to cry again. “You’re gonna make me sob on national TV.”

“I’ll sob with you,” Paige said, already tearing up, voice cracking as she pulled her girl tighter. “Az, you did it. You were amazing. You earned every second of this.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Azzi said softly, still clinging to her like she’d float away. “I had you.”

And that was the moment it hit.

This was it.

Paige’s last game in a UConn jersey.

Azzi went quiet, fingers tightening around Paige’s jersey like a warning sign. “Wait,” she mumbled. “Wait—no. No, this was it. That was your last—Paige.”

Paige knew it was coming the second Azzi’s lip started to wobble.

“Don’t cry, baby,” she murmured, running a thumb gently across Azzi’s cheekbone. “Come on. We won.”

Azzi shook her head and wiped at her face, sniffling. “I’m happy, I swear, I just… this was your game too. You deserve all of this.”

“I have all of this,” Paige whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “You. This team. That trophy. I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Azzi hiccuped. “On the court.”

“I’m not dying,” Paige smirked, brushing her lips over Azzi’s. “I’ll be like, annoying courtside every game next year. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” Azzi said, pouting so hard Paige nearly proposed on the spot. “I want to win more titles and get more assists from you and steal your socks.”

“Steal them from the WNBA now,” Paige teased. “Or, better—come with me.”

Azzi blinked up at her like a lovesick golden retriever. “Are you proposing?”

“Not yet,” Paige whispered, grinning. “But you keep scoring like you did tonight and I might.”

The afterparty was chaos.

Blasting music. Glitter in the carpet. Trophy selfies. Aubrey dancing on a table. Aaliyah filming it for later blackmail.

And in the middle of it all: Paige and Azzi, just absolutely gone.

“EVERYBODY LISTEN UP,” Paige yelled, very drunk, very in love, and holding a Solo cup like it was an Oscar. “AZZI FREAKIN’ FUDD IS THE BEST PLAYER IN COLLEGE BASKETBALL AND ALSO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN ALIVE.”

Azzi, equally drunk and cuddled up in Paige’s lap on the couch, raised her arms like she’d just won a Grammy. “I LOVE YOU, BABY.”

“I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“IMPOSSIBLE!”

Everyone else just let them have their moment. Again.

Ice leaned over to Caroline . “Should we stop them?”

Caroline shrugged. “They just won the natty. Let the gays scream.”

“I’M GONNA FRAME YOUR STATSHEET,” Paige yelled at Azzi.

“I’M GONNA FRAME YOUR FACE.”

“YOU’RE PERFECT.”

“YOU’RE MY FAVORITE HUMAN.”

They kissed so loudly half the room cringed.

And then Azzi went soft—her fingers gently brushing Paige’s collarbone as she whispered, “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

Paige stilled.

Azzi leaned in, eyes a little teary again. “You fought your way back to this. All the injuries, all the rehab, all the pressure. And you came back and won. I’m in awe of you.”

Paige pulled her into her chest, arms wrapping around her like armor.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had, Az,” she murmured. “I would’ve quit a million times over if I didn’t have you.”

Their teammates gave them some space, watching the two champions melt into each other quietly, still tangled in victory and champagne and love.

Eventually, the team dragged them into a van and sent them home before they passed out on the snack table.

Azzi fell asleep on Paige’s shoulder in the car, mumbling, “You’re mine forever, you know.”

Paige just kissed her forehead and smiled.

“Yeah, baby. I know.”

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #paige and azzi #pazzi

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rocksmusicplayer · 7 months ago

Text

Rocks Music Player App: Unlock the Power of the "Video to MP3" Feature

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scekrex · 3 months ago

Note

thanos making a bet with his fwb that he can’t keep quiet if thanos is fingering him, so once everyone’s asleep they sit in the top bunks with thanos forcing several prostate orgasms out of him (m reader) while he tries not to make any noise

idk it’s late and the thought lowkey seemed fire

Nah that prompt IS fire. Fuck hard w it ngl. Hope ya like this lil thing and I'm sorry it took so long, work holds me in a chokehold. I also spent way too fucking long on the banner whoops

'Cause tongue is overrated

pairing: Thanos x male!reader

warnings: language, anal fingering, dirty talk, mention of drugs

note: not beta read bc fuck you

“You’re too loud for that shit,” the man with the vibrant purple hair grunted as they headed back to the room where the beds for the attempting players were set up along with the neon marks on the floor that indicated their voting positions. They were heading back from the second game, the adrenaline still rushing through their veins just like the effect that those sweet, colorful pills the former rapper stored in the cross pendant that hung from his necklace was. Oh the high those candy looking pills could cause, it was the most intense high you had felt in a while.

In response to the words spoken by the purple-haired junkie walking next to you, you snorted, clearly disagreeing with the words spoken by him. Sure, you were more vocal than most men would be, that wasn’t something you’d deny given that it was the simple truth, but having Thanos telling you that you were too loud for a quickie in the bathrooms? Yeah, that man was definitely being dramatic there, you weren’t that loud - at least from your very own perspective you weren’t. And you yourself should know best if you were loud in bed or not, right? “I’m not that loud, bitch.”

Those words caused Thanos to roll his eyes at you, clearly not buying it - you on the other side believed those words were true, if demanded - and the circumstances you two found yourself in were demanding it - you definitely were able to keep quiet and tone down the noises you made while being pleasured. Well, at least you really thought that was the case, before you never really had to keep quiet while the former rapper fucked you. Sure, sometimes in bathroom stalls in shitty clubs with equally shitty music and drugs that were even worse Thanos had asked you to at least try and not let the other people around know how good he did you - but that had never been anything serious. The worst outcome out of such situations was that security would kick you two out and blacklist you. In this little game you and your best homie had signed up for? Shit, that was life or death type shit and as much as you were willing to risk your life for money while playing stupid kid games, you’d rather not take a bullet to the head while getting your world rocked by the pierced dick of the former rapper.

“Bet,” the purple-haired druggie responded with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. And maybe that should’ve been the point for you to realize that he would go and try his hardest to in fact prove you wrong. But your mind was working slower than usually due to the drugs, so you simply - and honestly quite dumbly - agreed to the bet.

Which was how you found yourself in his bed in the middle of the night. The announcement for the lights to turn off had been hours ago and the only noise that actively filled the room in which you, Thanos and 454 other players stayed in to sleep, eat and possibly bond were the rather soft sounds all those strangers made in their sleep. Well that and the rustling of fabric that was caused by the guy who had once been an active rapper. Because Thanos was on it - kicking away the blanket that was truly too thin to provide any form of comfortable warmth in a room that felt cold. The blanket wasn't the only fabric being removed.

Soon, your face was buried in the pillow - it was a shitty pillow, that you could tell, not nearly as soft as the pillows Thanos himself had in his own bed. It smelled like the purple-haired man positioned behind you though, so that was something positive.

With your ass in the air, the cheap, green tracksuit pants pulled down to your knees Thanos held you in place. One tattooed hand strongly held onto your hip, making sure your ass stayed up no matter how much your body would jerk and squirm under his touch, the other hand was occupied otherwise. Two fingers were buried knuckle deep in the heat of your body and that asshole had not bothered to take off his rings. So with every thrust that the former rapper aimed against your prostate, that ring he wore on his goddamn index finger caught onto the tight, clenching ring of muscles. The thing that bothered you most about the slight pain that silver jewelry caused was that you liked it though. Like it actually felt good, the way Thanos managed to let the pain bleed into pure pleasure.

Your teeth were sunken deeply into the fabric of the pillow, biting down on it to prevent noises from slipping from your lips, hoping dearly that those small whimpers that did escape your throat whenever the former rapper behind you hit the prostate with a little more force than necessary went unnoticed by the man causing you pleasure. “Fuck-” you grunted around the pillow between your teeth, squeezing youreyes shut in pleasure as those skilled fingers hit the G-spot of your body over and over again, causing your erected dick to leak a drop of pre-cum.

With nails clawed into the rumpled sheets and a body that trembled from how good it felt it was safe to say that you were a mess through and through. “Good boy,” Thanos growled from behind, letting his colorful painted nails sink into the flesh of your hips a little as his torso leaned forward, the clothed chest of the former rapper pressing against your bare back. And it wasn’t that you had taken off the jacket or the shirt that were part of the tracksuit you had been woken up in, no, the shirt had simply slipped from your back to bunch up around your shoulders when Thanos had forced your face down into the pillow. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well.”

The purple-haired man’s voice gave away how aroused he was by the pure doing of fingering you, there was no need for him to actively fuck you, to split you open on his own erection that trobbed under the fabric of both his boxershorts and his tracksuit sweats. No, the sight of you all needy, trying so very hard to prove that you could in fact stay quiet was enough for him, he did not need more. And yet Thanos was confident to eventually make you lose that silly little bet he had thrown in the room earlier. There was no way his ego could take a loss like that, especially when he knew how vocal you were.

Stars danced over the darkness that surrounded you when you closed your eyes in order to focus on staying quiet. Stars that exploded into bright dots when your orgasm eventually crashed over you. It was a little embarrassing, if you were honest, the way you spilled your load onto rumpled and messy sheets without a hand on your dick to provide the friction you had been craving. The way you had simply managed to fall apart in a room filled with sleeping people, completely and utterly untouched and onl be the heavy stimulation of your prostate.

With laboured breathing you were confident that those skilled fingers that were still penetrating the swollen G-spot inside of you would leave your body within the next few seconds, that Thanos would simply lay down next to you, maybe jerk off and go to bed afterwards - you had orgasmed and you had managed to stay somewhat quiet after all. But that wasn’t what the former rapper with the wide grin on his face intended on doing, though, so he kept those two fingers buried inside your ass, still pounding, clearly causing overstimulation. He would prove you wrong, would show you how loud and messy you really were, no matter what you yourself thought about that. He’d show you that having a quickie inside the bathroom stalls was not possible with someone as loud as you.

With a whine you reached out, trying to catch his wrist in order to get his fingers to stop. But before you could do so, before you had even the slightest chance of touching him, his hand was the one wrapping around your wrist, pinning our hand against the thin mattress right next to where your head laid. Your eyes searched out his - which was kinda hard to do in the dark - all while skilled fingers kept rubbing and pushing over and against the sensitive spot hidden away inside your body. Shudders ran through you, shudders so obvious that they made Thanos smirk, that caused him to apply ever so slightly more pressure and thrust his fingers a little harder, a little more forceful.

“Too much-” you were able to gasp out as your hips jerked, not sure if they should chase the pleasure that was indeed becoming too much or if they should try to wiggle away, to put distance between your body and his hand. Thanos, though, only kicked his tongue in response, followed by a shake of his head - not that you were able to see that though - as if to tell ‘No, not too much. Take it’, and maybe you could. Maybe you could take what he was giving and push through the overstimulation that forced a pitchy whine out of your throat, followed by multiple gasps. It was sort of insane, the way constant prostate stimulation could affect the body so intensely.

Because it didn't take long for your dick to harden again - which earned an approving grunt by the former rapper kneeling between your spread legs, not even attempting to pull away. No, Thanos was clearly enjoying this, enjoying how slowly you began to grow louder and needier, how your body chased his fingers while also trying to push them away, reject them. He was watching closely, the way you reacted to his touch, to his words and reactions. “Shut it and take it like a good slut.”

Before you could wrap your pleasure-drunken mind around it, another load joined your first one on the already messy sheets. It was accompanied by a scream - a scream of pleasure definitely, but a scream nonetheless and even the attempt to muffle it by biting onto the pillow was only doing so much to dampen the loud noise that your body made.

Okay, so maybe a quickie in the men's bathroom was a bad idea. Maybe you were too loud. Because if those were the noises you let out by only the feeling of his fingers, then it was quite obvious there were louder ones, needier ones reserved for his dick.

“Told you,” the former rapper with the vibrant purple hair grunted behind you, leaning over your back which caused his chest to press against it - all while those fingers made once more no attempt to leave your spent body to rest. “Loud ass bitch can't keep quiet. They all heard you. Proves my point, don't ya think?”

#male reader #squid game thanos #squid game s2 #squid game #thanos x male reader #thanos x you #thanos x reader #squid game thanos x male reader #squid game thanos x reader #not safe for tumblr #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #choi su bong x you #choi su bong x male reader

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misshoneyimhome · 7 months ago

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What’s up, buttercups!

It’s time to unwrap another steamy chapter of Sexy Christmas ☃︎! For this round, we’re cranking up the holiday heat with none other than Seth Jarvis—our favourite cheeky Hurricane 🌀🔥

This one’s for all the Seth girls out there (you know who you are 😉). Get ready for a mix of playful banter, smouldering tension, and enough holiday magic to melt the ice. Think soft Christmas lights, whispered names, and a hallway encounter that might just be the best present of the season.

Let me know what you think, and as always, happy reading, and let’s sleigh this holiday season together! 🎄✨

➼｡ﾟ

Office Holiday Party Hookup - Seth Jarvis

OC and her favourite player sneak away during the office Christmas party, finding a quiet corner to exchange more than just gifts under the twinkling holiday lights.

Tropes & warnings: 18+ smut, Seth Jarvis x reader, public, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside

Word count: 2.6K

The Carolina Hurricanes’ Christmas party was in full swing, the hum of conversation mingling with holiday music and the clinking of glasses. Strings of twinkling lights adorned every corner of the venue, casting a warm glow that softened even the most corporate edges of the evening. You stood near the refreshment table, an empty glass in hand as you scanned the room for familiar faces—or more specifically, one in particular.

Seth Jarvis.

The young star of the team, with a grin that could disarm even the most stoic, had a knack for stealing the spotlight—and your attention. His charm, quick wit, and effortless humour had made him the centre of your thoughts more than once, and tonight, it felt like the tension between you two was crackling just a little louder than usual.

“Looking for someone, or just enjoying the view?”

His familiar voice sent a thrill through you as you turned to see him approaching, two drinks in hand. He looked maddeningly good, his tailored suit hugging his athletic frame, and his trademark boyish smirk was firmly in place.

“Depends,” you replied, arching a brow. “What are my options?”

He handed you one of the glasses, his eyes sparkling with mischief as you sat the empty one aside. “Option one: me. Option two: still me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of the drink he offered. “Big talk for someone who can’t even handle his own secret Santa shopping.”

“I handled it just fine, thank you very much,” he shot back, leaning in just enough to lower his voice. “But I’ve got something better in mind for you this Christmas.”

The way he said it, low and deliberate, sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t let it show. “Is that so?”

“Dance with me,” he said suddenly, setting his glass on the nearby table and extending a hand.

You hesitated, glancing at the small dance floor where a few players and their wives swayed awkwardly to a holiday classic. “Not really my scene,” you murmured, though your heart was pounding at the invitation.

“Then let’s make our own,” he said, his grin widening as he took your hand without waiting for a reply.

Taking your glass and setting it next to his own, Seth then led you toward a quieter corner of the venue, the crowd thinning till completely out of sight as you neared the towering Christmas tree. The lights cast a golden glow over both of you, the ornaments shimmering like they were part of his plan. Seth stopped, turning to face you, his expression softening as he held onto your hand.

“See? Much better,” he said, his tone lower now, more intimate.

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased, though you didn’t pull away as his hands found your waist, drawing you closer.

“And yet, here you are,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts playful and sincere.

The scent of his cologne, warm and inviting, mixed with the faint aroma of pine from the nearby tree. You felt your resolve weakening as his hands settled more firmly on your waist, his touch steady but teasing.

“I should get back,” you said half-heartedly, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

“But you won’t,” he countered, his voice soft and knowing as he leaned in. His eyes flicked to your lips, the air between you thickening with unspoken intent. “Will you?”

Before you could reply, his lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as though testing the waters. The kiss sent a jolt through you, igniting something that had been building for months. Seth’s hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, and your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket as you kissed him back.

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered against his lips, though you made no effort to pull away.

“Let them watch,” he murmured, his tone full of humour but thick with desire as he captured your lips again, this time with more urgency.

Seth’s hands slid up your back, one tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. The warmth of his mouth and the way he moved against you made your head spin. When his lips left yours to trail along your jawline and down to the curve of your neck, your breath hitched, your body arching into him instinctively.

“You’ve been driving me wild all night,” he whispered, his lips grazing your ear as his hands wandered lower, his touch both firm and deliberate.

“Then maybe you should do something about it,” you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He groaned softly at your words, his grip on your hips tightening as he pressed you against the wall. His kisses grew hungrier, each one a deliberate act of devotion as he explored every inch of your skin he could reach.

“Jarvy…” you whispered.

“Mmm, yes, say my name,” he murmured against your throat, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Jarv,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on your senses.

His lips curved into a smile against your neck. “Again.”

“Jarvy,” you repeated, this time with more urgency, your hands sliding down to the hem of his jacket as you tugged him closer.

The intensity between you both was electric, the rest of the world fading as Seth pressed closer, his body a solid, unyielding presence against yours. His hands found the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing your thighs as he edged the fabric higher. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him, and you gasped softly, your body instinctively leaning into his touch.

“Do you have any idea what kind of effect you have on me?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“Why don’t you show me?” you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper, but full of intent.

Seth’s lips claimed yours again, his kiss deepening as the tension between you reached a fevered pitch. His hands roamed over your waist, firm and deliberate, as though memorising every curve. The faint hum of holiday music and the soft glow of the Christmas lights seemed to fade, leaving only the heated connection between the two of you in this quiet corner.

Each touch sent shivers coursing through your body, and when his hand finally slid beneath the dress again, his palm resting firmly on your thigh, you gasped softly against his lips.

“You’ve been fucking killing me,” Seth murmured, his voice rough with restraint as his forehead pressed briefly against yours. His other hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his dark eyes met yours. “Tell me to stop if this is too much.”

But your hands just slid down to the hem of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders in one fluid motion. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

The confirmation seemed to ignite something in him. Swiftly discarding the jacket, his hand returned on your thigh edged higher, his touch teasing as he explored the soft skin just beneath the edge of your underwear. Your breath hitched when his fingers brushed over the thin fabric, the light pressure sending a wave of pleasure through you. His lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both hungry and reverent.

“I fucking want you,” he murmured against your lips, his fingers tracing over the heat between your thighs with deliberate care. The sensation was almost overwhelming, your body responding to his touch with a desperation you couldn’t hide. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched into him, your soft moans spurring him on.

When his fingers slid beneath the fabric, finding your sensitive core with unerring precision, your knees threatened to give out entirely. Seth caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he held you steady against the wall. His lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers continued their slow, torturous rhythm against your clit.

“Seth,” you gasped, your voice breaking on his name as your hips rocked instinctively against his hand.

He groaned at the sound, his lips curving into a satisfied smile against your neck. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “Let me hear you.”

With a little too much ease, he then slipped a finger inside you, and the pressure of his hand increased, each movement calculated to bring you closer to the edge. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as your breath came in short, uneven gasps, clinging to him. His name spilled from your lips again, and the raw desire in your voice made him press harder against you, his own breathing rough and unsteady.

And when his hardness pressed insistently against your hip, the evidence of his need sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. You reached down, your fingers fumbling with the belt and his trousers, and he froze for a moment, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“I just want to touch you,” he hummed, his voice low but filled with concern.

You seductively licked your lips, looking up at him, your fingers tugging at the fabric with a quiet urgency. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

Seth groaned softly as he with one hand helped you free him from the confines of his trousers. You pushed them down just far enough to discover he was naked underneath. But it only made you smile as it made the situation easier for you.

Seth’s sharp intake of breath as your hand wrapped around him sent a thrilling jolt through your body. The heat and weight of him in your palm made your pulse quicken, and the low groan that escaped his lips only spurred you on. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breath coming in uneven bursts against your skin as he adjusted to your touch.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice a low rasp, his finger still pumping inside you. “You feel so good.”

You smiled at his reaction, your hand moving with slow, deliberate strokes that had his hips jerking slightly against your touch. His head tilted back slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours, heavy-lidded with desire. There was something deeply intoxicating about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing grounding him in the moment.

Seth’s head fell back a bit further, his lips parting as a sharp exhale escaped him. The combination of your deliberate strokes and the rhythm of his fingers inside you created a charged connection that neither of you could resist. His hand on your waist gripped tightly, his body trembling slightly under your touch.

“You’re… so good at this,” he breathed, his voice hoarse and strained as his hips bucked slightly into your hand, seeking more. His forehead came to rest against yours again, his dark eyes fluttering closed briefly before meeting yours once more, heavy with raw need. “Mmm… I’m getting closer.”

“Good,” you whispered, your voice soft but full of intent, your grip on him tightening as your strokes became firmer, matching the intensity of his movements.

Seth groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as his fingers inside you curled slightly, finding the spot that made your knees buckle. The gasp that escaped your lips spurred him on, his movements growing bolder as he drove you closer to the edge. His thumb circled your clit with expert precision, each stroke timed perfectly to leave you trembling in his arms.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps, your body pressing instinctively closer to his as the tension between you built to a fever pitch. The way his lips brushed against your neck, murmuring soft curses and encouragement, only heightened the electric pull between you.

“Seth,” you moaned, his name breaking on your lips as your hips moved against his hand, chasing the pleasure that was rapidly consuming you.

His free hand slid up your back, steadying you as your movements grew more desperate. His dark eyes locked onto yours, his expression a mix of awe and unrestrained desire. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Come for me.”

The raw intimacy of his words pushed you over the edge, your body tensing as a wave of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms. Seth’s fingers slowed, drawing out every last aftershock until you sagged against him, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you caught your breath.

But Seth wasn’t done. His hand stilled, slipping away as he adjusted your position slightly, making you release his hardness. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and unrelenting, as his hands slid down to grip your thighs. With a soft grunt, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you fully against the wall once more.

Your hands moved to his hair, tugging lightly as you kissed him back with equal fervor, your body still humming from the release he’d just given you. His need was palpable, the way his body pressed against yours leaving no doubt about how much he wanted you.

Without much effort, Seth found your entrance with his cock. Your hands remained tangled in his hair as you gasped against his lips, feeling the stretch and warmth of him as Seth pushed into you with deliberate care. A soft moan escaped you, his name spilling from your lips as your body adjusted to the intensity of the moment. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and uneven, his dark eyes searching yours for reassurance.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice strained with barely contained desire as he began to move. Each slow thrust was precise, deliberate, designed to leave you trembling in his arms. The rhythm he set was measured at first, his hands steadying you against the wall as he buried himself deeper with each movement.

The sound of your moans and his ragged breaths filled the quiet space, the holiday music from the party down the hall fading into the background. Seth’s grip on your thighs tightened as his pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. The friction, the heat, the sheer connection between you sent shivers coursing through your body, each movement igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing second.

Your name tumbled from his lips like a prayer, his voice rough and filled with need. The way he moved inside you—strong, purposeful, and utterly focused—left you breathless, your hands clinging to his shoulders as he drove you closer to the edge once more.

“Fuck, I can’t—” he gasped, his movements growing erratic as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body taut with tension. “I’m—”

“Let go,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice trembling but full of encouragement. “Come with me, Jarv.”

Seth groaned deeply, his head falling to your shoulder as he thrust into you one last time, his body shuddering with the force of his release. The warmth of him spilling inside you sent a wave of pleasure through you, your own body tightening in response as you held him close, your breaths mingling in the heated aftermath.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the two of you clinging to each other in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Seth’s hands moved to cradle your face, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was tender, almost reverent.

“You’re… amazing,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead to yours, his dark eyes filled with a mix of affection and awe.

You smiled, your fingers trailing softly along the back of his neck as you murmured, “Merry Christmas, Seth.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#18+ smut #sexy christmas #seth Jarvis smut #seth jarvis x reader #seth jarvis imagine #seth jarvis fanfic #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes fanfic #nhl hockey smut #nhl hockey fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey romance

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souryogurt64 · 3 months ago

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also wait i need more info on pw saying he started girls to the front bc like lmao anyone who knows anything would be able to clock that lie

In Where Are Your Boys Tonight, there is a chapter about Pete Wentz's involvement in the hardcore scene. This chapter is 25 pages long. It quotes one woman, who is not famous and has made no significant contributions to emo or music, as stating exactly two sentences. Everyone else quoted is a man, they are all quoted several times, and they all get to say several paragraphs.

I don't think everything in the chapter was bad, and I think some things were portrayed well, but to me it is clear that the author (who is a Brand New fanboy, and white) was attempting to evade discussion of any feminist issues in relation to hardcore and shield himself from criticism of his choices in covering this by finding a random woman off the street who happened to say something convenient for the preselected narrative.

Racetraitor started at the end of the 90s and Riot Grrrl started in the early 90s. Pete Wentz was also a temporary bass player in high school. It is completely ridiculous to suggest that they invented girls to the front. Based off the LinkedIn profile of the person who stated the above, (who is also white) she would have been approximately 10-14 years old when Racetraitor started. It was at best very irresponsible for the author to quote her as an authority on this, but in the words of another Tumblr user on this book, "The lack of fact checking was the point."

While they were not a Hardline band and primarily focused on racial justice, Racetraitor did have a brief member in the band who identified as Hardline. Andy, who was also in Racetraitor, was in a band with Sean, the founder of Hardline, called Vegan Reich. A third person in the band (Eric) did not identify as Hardline but supported the movement. Pete Wentz has the ecology symbol tattooed. He got the tattoo when he was 15. The ecology symbol was the logo for Hardline. It's not clear if that was why he got the tattoo or if he got the tattoo for another reason.

Hardline (and a lot of hardcore bands) claimed they supported "equality for everyone including gender equality" (which is where this "I'm not sexist I invented feminism" attitude comes from). However, a lot of hardcore bands, especially Hardline bands, believed abortion was the same as the Holocaust, believed abortion providers were equivalent to Nazis, believed women should not be able to access birth control, and advocated for the extermination of all gay people.

Sean, the founder of hardline, referred to feminists who disagreed with his views as "yeastie infected" and "lard cunts" and specifically referred to "feme cunts" who didn't like a specific journalist in this way. According to Reddit (which is not the most reliable source but whatever), that person was fired from Maximumrocknroll for printing inflammatory columns about feminism, including critiquing equal pay and Smithsonian Magazine advocating for more women in STEM. Sean later tried to say he wasn't sexist and this was a joke.

Anybody who is arguing these people were not sexist and invented feminism is poorly informed or is arguing in bad faith. I think it was dishonest and irresponsible to print this without offering any other perspectives, especially given the context that this book was written by a white guy who is arguing that Brand New were the main driving force behind emo, something that is opinion at best and is often supported by blatantly misrepresenting core facts. His other coverage of women and women's issues throughout the book is also clearly very biased and dishonest while being portrayed as objective, which I think is a big reason why Fall Out Boy were the biggest band to sign off on it.

Like, it is obvious (implicitly) the author believes Brand New are at risk of not receiving enough credit for this because they were cancelled by MeToo or whatever. However, this is -- again-- poorly backed opinion at best.

For example, at the very end of a chapter about Brand New, Jason of AbsolutePunk is quoted as saying that after Brand New released The Devil and God, a bunch of bands "made an attempt at a rock opus." Sisky is then quoted as saying "In 2006, there was a big clash between early 2000s emo and everything that was going to come after." Then it immediately cuts to a chapter about The Black Parade. The implication that the author is leading the audience to believe is obviously that The Devil and God inspired The Black Parade.

However. This book fails to mention that in 2004, prior to Brand New beginning recording on The Devil and God in 2005, Green Day released American Idiot. Furthermore, MCR and Green Day toured together in 2005. Finally, The Black Parade came out a month before The Devil and God.

I don't even hate Brand New that much and they have good songs. However, it is obvious this book misrepresents a lot of facts in order to present this fantasyland narrative that instead of being a middling indie band with a cult following that never really went anywhere, Brand New were The First Band Ever Borned and are the sole source of inspiration for any band with credit, and are being oppressed out of their rightful legacy by the mean feminists. That just isn't what happened. Sorry. And this of all books is the one Fall Out Boy chose to endorse. Whatever.

The author also quoted someone in a band that has made songs "satirizing" feminism and rape culture (She Ain't Your Baby and Problematic by Screeching Weasel) as stating that nothing predatory occurred on Warped. This is the only discussion of sexual assault outside of the author's own platitudes to the audience in relation to his (poor) coverage of Brand New...despite several women being interviewed. The women who are interviewed (primarily random irrelevant people) are instead asked bizarre questions about Pete Wentz being gay.

LASTLY AND PERHAPS MOST EGREGIOUSLY, this book spends a ton of time arguing over whether or not Paramore were an industry plant. For example. The ghostwriter of Pete's book said this.

I'm going to be honest, I have also always felt weird about Paramore because yes, it is weird and uncomfortable and industry plant-y for FBR to sign a 15 year old in a Christian band or whatever and pretend it is 100% real. However, he clearly has issues with her that are apparent in his coverage including 1) Writing an article quoting from commenters on AbsolutePunk about whether or not they would "still hit it" after she dyed her hair 2) Constantly "addressing rumors" she was pregnant or “hooking up with various members of pretty much any band you can think of" and 3) Writing column stating she and Gwen Stefani are interchangeable and were "pretty girls with a dye job showing the guys how it's done (blech)".

Both he in his original coverage in the 2000s/2010s, and the author of this book, did not address the elements of homophobia or other stuff going on that contributed to the Paramore split, such as the guy who left speaking against Hillary Clinton (running in the presidential primaries at the time) shortly before all of that, when Paramore have made it clear those things were also major factors. Instead, they focused solely on this debate over Hayley being an industry plant and getting too much credit compared to her male bandmates and them not getting paid enough. The book also intentionally misrepresented how one of the brothers that left rejoined the band, is still performing with them to this day, and has been doing so for almost a decade, and instead made it sound like Hayley permanently kicked both of them out.

Most egregiously, the author did not interview Hayley or anyone else actually in Paramore but made it appear as if Hayley was interviewed by the author and inserting the fact that she wasn't into the copyright section at the back rather than a disclaimer at the front like most oral histories. Because again. This is an intentionally dishonest book and I would say it was irresponsible for Fall Out Boy to sign off on it, but that was probably the point.

While Pete Wentz didn't say any of this this directly, he and Patrick were the only major emo people who agreed to be interviewed for the project and presumably brought their massive entourage of losers with them. I assume FOB's management signed off on everything as well. Gerard, Ryan, Brendon, and Hayley all declined. Nobody made them do this, they were a huge reason if not the main reason why this was so successful and went from a self-published Amazon project to a real book deal, and I think it was stupid and irresponsible and dishonest for Pete Wentz and his massive entourage to endorse this and I think a big motivating factor for so many people to be a part of it was the very specific, cowardly, and dishonest way it approached women's issues, and the fact that it was being written during MeToo in summer 2020.

Fin lol

#i wouldnt even care that much but fall out boy fans like call anyone who criticized this book bigoted

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szariahwroteit · 7 months ago

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FUNGIRL A Trent Alexander-Arnold + Original Character Erotic Series.

Chapter 6

18+ Minors DNI

While Trent and Jude were close friends, brothers even. On the football pitch, they were fierce rivals and competitive leaders in their own right.

When Real Madrid came to Merseyside, Trent and his Liverpool teammates refused to allow Jude and his teammates a chance to win on their home turf.

The game was intense from the very first whistle, however after Liverpool left the stadium with a win, players of both teams had arranged a night out in Liverpool spearheaded by Jude and Trent.

It went without saying that Trent had Amber accompany him on their night out, her perfect little body draped in a cleavage-baring backless dress that Trent was ready to rip off of her the moment he saw her in it.

Living in the capital often diminished any need to venture outside of it for nightlife, but Amber couldn’t deny how vibrant and full of life the nightclub they currently stood in was.

It almost reminded her of some of her favourite spots back home in Los Angeles, but her comparisons were pushed to the back of her mind as Trent approached her holding a glass of champagne.

“Here you go, beautiful,” Trent said, his voice smooth as he handed her the glass. His eyes sparkled with mischief and admiration as he took in her stunning appearance. The way the dress hugged her curves left him momentarily speechless, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride knowing she was with him.

Amber accepted the glass, her fingers brushing against his as she did. “Thanks,” she replied, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “You clean up pretty well yourself, you know.”

Trent chuckled, adjusting the collar of his tailored shirt. “I try my best, especially when I have someone like you by my side.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “You look absolutely perfect tonight.”

Amber felt her cheeks flush at his compliment, a flutter of excitement coursing through her. “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Alexander-Arnold,” she teased, taking a sip of the champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose, and she savoured the crisp taste.

As they stood together, the energy of the club pulsed around them. The music thumped in time with their heartbeats, and the vibrant lights danced across the room, casting a kaleidoscope of colours on their faces. Amber felt alive, the atmosphere intoxicating, and she couldn’t help but lean into Trent’s side, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

He’d introduced her to his friends from home who were in attendance, his teammates who shown up for the night out, and Jude and his Real Madrid teammates, who were equally eager to let their hair down after such a physical match.

The club was absolutely bustling and the presence of so many celebrities only seemed to add to the energy of the room.

Trent was pulled away from Amber’s side by a teammate of his, taking a sip from her glass, she went and took a seat on the arm of a plush sofa a few of Trent’s friends were lounging on.

Offering them a polite smile, Amber took another sip of her drink as she watched the club move around her.

Turning as she felt the presence of someone who took the seat beside her, she found it to be another of Trent’s friends, whose eyes ran up and down her body a few times before meeting hers.

“Amber, right?” he smiled.

“That's me,” she acknowledged politely.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked leaning into her ear so she could hear him over the music.

“Yeah, it’s been great so far!” Amber replied, her voice bright as she tried to keep the conversation light. She glanced around the club, taking in the vibrant atmosphere and the laughter of the people around her. “The energy here is amazing.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his smile widening. “Micah,” he introduced himself, leaning closer. “You’re the most stunning girl in the room. I’d be lying if I didn’t say Trent is pretty lucky to have you here.”

Amber felt a small rush of warmth at the compliment and smiled back at him, but something in Micah’s gaze shifted—harder, more probing. “But you know, it’s just wild to think he’ll never actually take you seriously.”

Her smile faltered, and she swallowed hard, questioning the energy she’d felt only moments earlier. “Excuse me?” she asked, trying to hold onto a semblance of confidence.

“Look, we all think you’re beautiful , but that’s never been enough to keep Trent. He just doesn’t care to take things seriously, you know? But then again he doesn’t have to he’s a handsome millionaire. It’s not fair,” Micah laughed, his voice barely above the thumping music.

Amber felt her heart drop. “That’s not true,” she replied, but doubt crept into her mind. A lot of Micah’s thoughts had previously been her own and it stung to hear them come so freely out of someone else’s mouth.

Micah leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “The fact he shares is a good consolation, though.”

“What does that mean?” Amber asked, a chill of unease moving slowly down her spine.

“I mean, I’m more than happy to share with Trent. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Micah said as he bit his bottom lip, dragging his eyes lustfully down Amber’s figure instantly making her stomach flip.

Standing to her feet, Amber put down her glass and quickly made off in the direction of the bathroom as her eyes filled with tears and her hands grew clammy.

Tearfully ordering an Uber to her location, Amber sat in the bathroom stall of the club feeling absolutely pathetic.

This repeated cycle was one she couldn't continue, Amber was officially stepping off of the emotional roller coaster that was Trent Alexander-Arnold.

When her phone vibrated in her hand, Amber quickly wiped her tears and glanced at the screen. Standing on her feet when she saw her car was outside of the club.

Being careful not to bump into Trent or any of his friends as she made her way towards the exit, Amber wrapped her hands around herself in a poor attempt to shield herself from the cold as she stepped out into the night air. The club's pulsating music faded behind her, replaced by the distant sounds of laughter and chatter from the street. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly defeated.

As she approached the waiting Uber, she took a moment to collect herself. The driver, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, nodded at her through the rearview mirror. “You okay?” he asked gently.

Amber forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah, just a long night,” she replied, sliding into the back seat. She closed the door, shutting out the world for a moment, and leaned her head against the cool glass window.

The driver started the car and pulled away from the curb. Amber watched the city lights blur past, each one a reminder of the fun she had hoped to have tonight. Instead, she felt like she was leaving behind a piece of herself—again.

Her mind drifted back to Trent. They had shared so many good times, but the highs always seemed to be followed by crushing lows. He was charming, funny, and undeniably attractive, but he was also emotionally unavailable. She had tried to convince herself that he would eventually come around, that he would see how much she cared. But tonight had been the final straw.

When the cab driver pulled up outside of a rather upscale and plush hotel he’d recommended to Amber to hole up in for the night while she licked her wounds, her turned to her giving her an empathetic smile.

“Whoever he is isn’t worth it,” he said soothingly, his accent thick as he offered Amber words of comfort, a blind man could see she was a stunning young woman and if he had to guess a man was the reason behind her tears.

Ironically when he leaned forward and his coat gaped open, it revealed a Liverpool jersey tucked beneath it, making Amber smile tearfully before she got out of his car and made her way inside.

She was thankful the check-in process didn’t take long and she was currently in possession of two pieces of identification.

As she walked toward the elevator, Amber felt a mix of relief and sadness wash over her. The hotel felt like a sanctuary, a place where she could escape the chaos of her emotions and the memories of Trent. She pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment.

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out and made her way to her room. The plush carpet felt soft beneath her feet, a stark contrast to the hard reality she had just left behind. She inserted the key card into the lock, and the door clicked open.

Inside, the room was beautifully decorated, with soft lighting and a large bed that looked inviting. Amber dropped her purse on the floor and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtains to reveal a stunning view of the city skyline. The lights twinkled like stars, and for a brief moment, she felt a flicker of hope.

But as she sank onto the edge of the bed, the weight of her emotions crashed down on her again. She pulled her phone from her pocket, staring at the screen as if it held the answers to her heartache. Should she text Trent? Should she tell him how she felt? Tell him where she was.

Back at the club, Trent’s eyes scanned their section for any sign of Amber, but all he found was the laughter of his friends and the remnants of the night’s revelry. He had seen her earlier, her laughter ringing out like music, but now that sound was replaced by an unsettling silence. A knot formed in his stomach as he realized she was gone.

“Where’s Amber?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but the concern seeped through. His friends shrugged, too caught up in their own conversations to pay much attention.

“She probably just went to the bathroom or something,” one of them replied, waving a hand dismissively. But Trent couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

He excused himself from the group, his heart racing as he made his way towards the rope that separated VIP from the rest of the club.

Pulling out his phone he called Amber, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for her to pick up. The ringing echoed in his ears, each tone amplifying his anxiety. After a few rings, it went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to check in. Call me back when you can,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but the worry crept in.

He hung up and stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on him. He should have been more attentive and should have noticed the signs that she was upset. The way she had looked at him earlier, the way her smile had faltered—it all made sense now.

“Trent, you good?” one of his friends called out, pulling him back to reality.

“Yeah, just… did Amber say anything to anyone?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

His friends exchanged glances, confusion etched on all but one of their faces. “I might have told her not to get her hopes up about you,” one of them admitted, a hint of guilt creeping into his tone. “I thought it was just a joke, man. I didn’t think she’d take it seriously.”

In all honesty, he’d said a lot more than “don’t get your hopes up”, but judging by the look of frustration on Trent’s face, he knew better than to add insult to injury.

Trent felt a surge of frustration. “How is that a joke!?” he snapped, his voice rising. “You think it’s funny to mess with someone’s feelings like that? She’s not a fucking toy to play with!”

His friends shifted uncomfortably, the atmosphere growing tense. “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, Trent,” one of them said, trying to calm him down. “We just thought—”

“Thought what? That it was okay to belittle her?” Trent interrupted, his anger boiling over.

Just then Trent’s phone vibrated with a text from Amber letting him know she had checked into an undisclosed hotel and would be at his house tomorrow morning to collect her belongings that were still at his place.

Trent's heart sank as he read the message, a mix of relief and dread washing over him. She was safe, but the thought of her spending the night alone in a hotel, feeling hurt and abandoned, twisted his stomach into knots. He quickly typed a response, his fingers trembling as he tried to find the right words.

Trent: Amber, please don’t stay there alone. I’m sorry for everything. Can we talk? I want to make this right."

He hit send and stared at the screen, willing her to reply. The seconds felt like hours as he waited, his mind racing with thoughts of how he could have handled things differently. He should have been more attentive to her. Instead, he had let his friends’ careless words dictate his actions, and now Amber was hurting because of it.

“Did she respond?” one of his friends asked, breaking the silence that had settled around them.

“No,” Trent replied, his voice tight. “But she’s at a hotel. I need to go to her.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” another friend chimed in, concern etched on his face. “What if she needs space?”

Trent shook his head, frustration bubbling up again. “She doesn’t need space. She needs to know that I care. I can’t just leave her there.”

It was times like these when Trent wished for the freedom to move in the way a normal man would, as one of the brightest stars in English football meant he was often under scrutiny, and his every move was analyzed. But right now, he didn’t care about the cameras or the headlines. All he cared about was Amber.

“I need to find out where she is,” he said, determination flooding his voice. He turned on his heel and headed for the exit, ignoring the calls of his friends behind him. The club felt suffocating, the laughter and music a stark contrast to the turmoil in his heart.

As he stepped outside into the cool night air, he pulled out his phone, trying Amber’s number again. Simply knowing she was safe wasn't enough for him, he needed to find out where she was and go to her.

He dialled her number, his heart racing as he listened to the ringing. Each tone felt like a countdown, amplifying his anxiety. After a few rings, it went to voicemail again. “Amber, please pick up. I’m on my way to you. Just… please answer,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Trent hung up, frustration and worry swirling inside him. He couldn’t just sit around waiting for her to respond. He needed to act. He quickly pulled up the addresses of hotels local to the area on his phone, just as his driver pulled up to the curb.

Climbing into the back of the car he ignored the whispers and no-so-subtle camera flashes of those wanting even just the small piece of the premier league star.

“Where to?” the driver asked, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror.

“Just drive around the area,” Trent replied, his voice clipped. “I’ll let you know if I see the hotel.”

As they pulled away from the club, Trent’s mind raced. He thought about Amber, the way her laughter had lit up the room, and how quickly that light had dimmed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let her down, that he had taken her for granted. The thought of her alone in a hotel room, feeling hurt and abandoned, gnawed at him.

“Do you know any hotels around here?” he asked the driver, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yeah, there are a few nice ones not too far from here,” the driver replied. “You looking for someone?”

Trent hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to share. “Just a friend,” he finally said, his heart heavy. “She’s having a rough night.”

The driver nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I hope you find her. Sometimes people just need a little reassurance.”

Trent appreciated the kindness, but it did little to ease the storm brewing inside him. He needed to find Amber, to make things right. As they drove through the city, he scanned the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the hotel where she might be staying.

After a few minutes, he spotted a familiar sign. “There! That’s it!” he exclaimed, pointing to the upscale hotel. The driver pulled over, and Trent jumped out before the car had even come to a complete stop.

“Thanks!” he called over his shoulder, already sprinting towards the entrance. The lobby was bustling with guests, but all he could focus on was finding Amber. He approached the front desk, his heart pounding.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “I’m looking for a guest named Amber. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”

The receptionist looked up, her expression neutral. “I’m sorry, but I can’t disclose that information.”

Trent felt a surge of frustration. “Please, it’s important. She’s upset, and I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

The receptionist hesitated, her eyes flickering with sympathy. “I understand, but I can’t—”

“Just tell me if she’s checked in,” he interrupted, desperation creeping into his voice. “I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”

After a moment of contemplation, the receptionist sighed. “Okay, but I can’t give you her room number. I can confirm that she is here on the fifth floor.”

Relief washed over him. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”

He turned away from the desk, scanning the lobby for any sign of Amber. He felt a mix of hope and anxiety as he made his way toward the elevators. He pressed the button for her floor, his heart racing as he waited for the doors to open.

When they finally slid apart, he stepped inside and pressed the button for the highest floor. The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, and Trent took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He thought about what he would say to her, how he could express the regret he felt for not being there when she needed him.

As the doors opened, he stepped out into the hallway, glancing at the room numbers. He walked slowly, his heart pounding louder with each step. Finally, he reached the door that matched the number he had seen on the receptionist’s screen.

He raised his hand to knock but hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if he had pushed her too far? But he couldn’t let fear hold him back. He had to try.

With a deep breath, he knocked softly on the door. “Amber?” he called, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me, Trent.”

Silence hung in the air, and for a moment, he feared she wouldn’t answer. But then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door creaked open, and there she stood, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—hurt.

Trent found that her dress had been replaced by a poorly tied hotel robe, that showed off her cleavage and her taut abs, her hair that was previously styled into an updo fell in damp waves over her shoulders, her face free of any makeup and her eyes red and puffy from crying.

“Baby,” he sighed, his heart cracking as her sad eyes gazed up into his helplessly.

“Please don't call me that,” Amber sniffled, using the sleeve of her robe to wipe away a fresh set of tears.

“What happened?” he asked cautiously, realizing that whatever had been said to her by one of his boys had definitely been downplayed when relayed to him.

“Ask your friends, as far as they're concerned if I’m getting your dick wet I should be doing the same for them, or at least that's the impression you gave them.” Amber's voice trembled, each word laced with hurt and betrayal. She took a step back, wrapping the robe tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the pain.

Trent's stomach twisted at her words. He had always known his friends could be reckless, but he never imagined they would cross such a line. “Amber, I swear I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t tell them it was okay to treat me like I’m just some down to do anything slut?” she interrupted, her voice rising. “Regardless of whether or not you're ready to be committed to anyone. I thought you respected me.”

“I do respect you!” he exclaimed, stepping forward, desperate to bridge the distance between them. “You have to believe me. I would never condone that kind of behaviour. They’re just—”

“Just what? Just being guys? Just being your friends?” Amber shook her head, her damp hair falling into her face. “I can’t believe you’d let them think that way about me.”

Trent ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt swirling inside him. “I didn’t know they were saying those things. I’ll talk to them, I promise. I’ll make it right.”

Amber looked up at him, her eyes searching his for sincerity. “You think that’s enough? You think a conversation will fix this?”

“I want to fix this,” he said, his voice softening. “I want to make it right between us. Just tell me what I can do.”

She took a deep breath, her shoulders trembling. “Nothing, we should both just leave this as it is.”

“Amber, no,” he pleaded, stepping closer, his heart racing. “I can’t just let you walk away like this. I care about you too much.”

“Caring isn’t enough when your friends treat me like I’m nothing,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought we had something real, but now I feel like I’m just a joke to them….to you.”

Trent’s chest tightened at her words. “You’re not a joke to me. You’re everything. I never wanted you to feel this way. I thought you knew that.”

Amber shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “How can I trust that when your friends think it’s okay to talk about me like that? It makes me question everything.”

“Please, just give me a chance to fix this,” he said, his voice earnest. “I’ll talk to them, I’ll make sure they understand how wrong they are. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you that I’m serious.”

She looked at him, her expression torn between anger and longing. “You're not serious, maybe the sex is good, or I'm easy to get along with, but you are not serious about me.”

Trent felt the weight of her words like a punch to the gut. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’m serious about you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You mean more to me than just a fling.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m just another notch on your belt?” Amber’s voice cracked, and she turned away, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her robe. “You say you care, but your friends don’t see me that way. I’m just here for your amusement.”

“Amber, please,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “I can’t control what they think, but I can control how I treat you. I want you Amber. I’m with you, physically and emotionally too.”

She turned back to him, her eyes searching his for any hint of truth. “Then why didn’t you stand up for me? You left me with them to get ripped apart while you found time to talk to every other girl in that club with Jude.”

“I didn’t know they were saying those things until now,” he replied, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I thought they respected you, respected us. I’ll talk to them, I promise. I’ll make it clear that I won’t tolerate that kind of talk about you.”

Amber’s expression softened slightly, but the hurt was still evident. “There is no need, I'm going home to London in the morning.”

As Trent gazed at Amber, her words hung in the air like a heavy fog, enveloping them both in a suffocating silence. Her declaration of leaving struck him like a lightning bolt, and he felt a surge of panic rise within his chest. The thought of her walking away, of never seeing her again, was more than he could bear.

"No, Amber, please," Trent pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation as he reached out to grab her hand, his fingers trembling. "Don't go. Stay with me."

Amber pulled her hand away, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she gazed at him with a mix of sadness and longing. "I can't stay, Trent. I can't keep doing this, pretending that everything is okay when it's not."

"But it is okay," he insisted, taking a step closer to her, his heart racing. "We're okay. I care about you, Amber. More than you know."

“Trent, I can't keep—,” Before another word had the chance to leave her lips, Trent's crashed against them. His hands cupped her wet cheeks as he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a desperate kiss. It was a kiss filled with urgency, a plea for understanding, for connection, for everything they had shared. He poured all his emotions into that moment, hoping to convey the depth of his feelings and the sincerity of his intentions.

Amber stiffened for a moment, surprise flickering in her eyes, but then she melted into him, her body responding to the warmth of his touch. The kiss deepened, and for a brief moment, the world outside faded away. It was just the two of them, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, the pain and hurt momentarily forgotten.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Amber looked up at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and longing. “Trent…”

“Just listen to me,” he interrupted, his voice low and earnest. “I know I messed up. I should have been with you. But I need you to understand that I want to make this right. I have to.”

Her gaze softened, but the hurt was still there, lingering like a shadow. “What if there is no point?” she asked.

“Then we’ll find a point together,” Trent replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “I don’t want to lose you, Amber. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I want you.”

Amber’s eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she found was determination. “This is way more complicated than either of us ever intended.”

“I know it is,” Trent admitted, his heart racing as he took a deep breath. “But I’m willing to face that complexity if it means having you in my life. I don’t want to walk away from what we have without trying to fix it first.”

Amber looked down, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her robe. “It’s just so hard to see a way forward when I feel so worthless and disrespected. I thought you were different, Trent. I thought you cared about me.”

“I do care about you,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly with urgency.

“How can I trust that?” she asked, her voice trembling. “If you did, your friends wouldn't have been saying the things they were.”

Trent felt a pang of guilt wash over him, the weight of her words pressing down on his chest. “You’re right,” he said, his voice steady but filled with remorse. “I should have been more aware of how they were treating you. I should have been there to defend you. I can’t change what they said, but I can change how I respond to it.”

Amber’s eyes glistened with tears, and she shook her head slowly. “But what if this is just who you are? What if you’re just like them, and I’m the one who’s been blind to it?”

“No,” he said firmly, stepping closer, his heart racing. “I’m not like them. I’ve never treated you like that, and I never will.“

Trent leaned in, eyes locked on hers as he continued to plead his case with a desperate intensity.

"Amber, please understand. I'm not perfect, but this... what we have... it's different. I want you." He said taking her hand into his own and squeezing gently as he looked deep into her eyes.

"I'll talk to them, make sure they never disrespect you again. And if they cross the line even once more... well, let's just say I won't hesitate to put them in their place." A soft, reassuring smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward slightly.

"But enough about them. Let's focus on us. On what we have here." Trent continued, raising her hand and bringing it up to press against his chest, over his heart "This is real, Amber. This connection between us is real.”

Trent’s eyes scanned over Amber’s teasing little body draped in the hotel's robe before his eyes met hers again and cupped her face, using his thumbs to wipe away the remaining tears.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured as he gazed into her eyes.

Amber felt her heart flutter at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of hurt and confusion that had clouded her mind. She searched his eyes, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all she found was a deep, unwavering affection that made her chest tighten.

“Trent…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, but he shook his head gently, silencing her.

“Let me finish,” he said, his tone earnest. “I know I’ve messed up, and I know I can’t take back what happened tonight. But I want to show you that I care, I want to show you how much I want you.”

Amber’s heart raced as she listened to him, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She felt the walls she had built around herself begin to crack, the weight of her hurt slowly lifting as she looked into his eyes.

“Trent, I just…” she started, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to express her pain, and her frustration, but all she could see was the man standing before her, vulnerable and earnest, willing to fight for her.

“I know it’s hard to believe right now,” he continued, his voice steady. “But I want to try. For you. For us. I want to show you that I’m not just some guy who lets his friends dictate how he feels. I want to be the guy who stands up for you, who respects you, who cherishes you.”

Amber felt a flicker of hope ignite within her, but doubt still lingered. “What if this is just a moment?”

Trent stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “What if it isn't?” he countered.

“What if this moment is the beginning of something beautiful?” he asked, his voice low and filled with conviction. “I believe in us, Amber. I need you to believe in us, too.”

As he spoke, Amber could feel the gravity of his words wrapping around her, pulling her closer to him. The vulnerability on his face mirrored her own fears, and for the first time, it felt like they were on the same page. She wanted to step forward, to let him in, but the emotional scars from the night were still fresh, and a part of her hesitated.

Trent noticed her conflict, and his expression shifted from determination to tenderness. “I won’t rush you, I promise. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Just… don’t shut me out. Let me be here for you.”

Amber swallowed hard, her heart torn between the remnants of pain and the spark of affection that Trent often ignited within her. “It’s not that easy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I’m scared of getting hurt again.”

“I know, and I completely understand,” he replied, his eyes softening. “But what we have is worth fighting for. I’m willing to stand in front of all the fears and doubts with you. Can’t we at least try?”

The intensity in his gaze made her pulse quicken, and she felt herself wavering. She found solace in knowing that he wasn’t just here for a fleeting moment, but was genuinely invested in what they shared. Her heart ached with longing, the need for his reassurance mingling with the tinge of fear.

“If I let you in,” she said cautiously, “if I let you into my life, you have to promise me you’ll respect me.”

Trent stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “I promise,” he said solemnly, his gaze never wavering. “You deserve nothing less.”

Amber held her breath, the weight of his promise hanging in the air between them.

Hooking a finger beneath her chin, Trent tilted her face up to meet his gaze fully. “I want you to feel safe with me, Amber. I never want to make you feel like you’re less than what you truly are. You’re extraordinary.”

The warmth in his eyes melted some of the fear embedded in her heart. Amber's breath hitched as she felt her walls begin to crumble, piece by piece. “Trent… I want to believe you,” she confessed, her voice shaking. “But it’s hard to forget how tonight made me feel.”

“I won’t ask you to forget,” he said, sincerity pouring from every word. “But I want to build something new. Something real and full of respect, passion, and understanding.”

With every word, he drew her closer, both physically and emotionally. It was as if he knew which buttons to press to unlock the door to her heart, and she felt the barriers she had erected beginning to falter.

As he spoke, the tension in the air shifted, becoming electric. Amber could feel the weight of the connection between them intensifying, almost palpable. “Tell me, what do you truly want?” he asked, his eyes locked onto hers.

“I want to feel valued, truly valued for who I am—not just for how I make you feel,” she replied, her heart racing.

“Then I’ll show you,” Trent promised, his voice a husky whisper. Taking a deep breath, he moved in closer, his warmth brushing against her. “I want to show you how much you mean to me—not just with words, but with my actions.”

Amber’s pulse quickened as their closeness heightened the atmosphere. “How?” she breathed, her apprehension mixing with burgeoning trust.

“Let me take you on a date. Just you and me," he said boldly, his desire burning bright in his gaze. "No distractions, just us. I want to show you that you’re worth every effort.”

At that moment, Amber felt a sense of hope blossoming within her. “A date?” she asked sceptically, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes, a date. We can go wherever you want, and do whatever you want. Just let me be with you,” he said, sincerity radiating from him.

She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she found was determination and warmth. “Okay,” she whispered. “I think I’d like that.”

His face lit up with a smile that felt like the sun breaking through clouds. “Really?” he asked, almost breathless with relief.

“Yeah,” she nodded, feeling emboldened. “But you have to promise me something first.”

“Anything,” he said, eagerness colouring his tone.

“Promise me you won’t let anyone—friends or otherwise—disrespect me again,” Amber said, her voice firm. “I need to know I can trust you.”

“I promise,” he said earnestly, his hand moving to cup her cheek once more, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down her face. “This is our thing now, Amber. I won’t let anyone come between us.”

With those words hanging between them, the atmosphere throbbed with unchecked desire and fragile hope. Trent leaned in closer, their breaths mingling, and Amber could almost taste the promise of a fresh start on her lips—the kind she’d yearned for after a night that had threatened to unravel her.

“Everything will be different,” he whispered, almost breathless. “I’ll show you how much I care.”

With a tentative heart, Amber leaned into him, closing the gap between their bodies. Their lips met once again, soft and urging—this time brimming with the promise of newfound understanding. The warmth of him enveloped her, and she felt the last vestiges of her heartache begin to fade, replaced by something captivating and real.

As the kiss deepened, emotions flooded back—connection, passion, and the hope that they could rewrite their story together. They would take the time to heal together, to love openly, without fear of the past shadowing their present.

The world outside faded away as Amber let herself sink into the moment, wrapped in the certainty that maybe—just maybe—they could find a way through the chaos of their lives. For the first time that night, she felt not just alive, but truly seen.

Arguing about respect and boundaries previously, almost seemed comical as Amber allowed Trent to disrespect and defile her body in the most pleasurable way.

Trent’s long, thick cock kissed against her cervix in the most masochistic way. His hand wrapped around her throat holding her body against his as he sat up on his knees, fucking her slow and deep.

Amber let out a strained cry of pleasure as Trent landed a stinging slap on the swell of her ass, his hand around her throat tightening as he turned her head so he could look into her eyes.

As Trent's cock throbbed against her cervix, Amber let out a muffled moan into his palm. The roughness of his grip on her throat sent shivers down her spine, mixing with the intense pleasure coursing through her body.

Amber's moans turned into gasps and whimpers as Trent's cock rubbed against her cervix, the sensation sending waves of intense pleasure through her body. She could feel every ridge and vein along his length, teasing her inner walls with each slow, deep thrust.

Trent's hand around her throat tightened further as he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning over her face. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, slapping her ass again for emphasis. "My cock buried deep inside you, right where it belongs."

Amber couldn't respond verbally, but she arched her back and ground herself against him in response. The pain from the slap mixed with the pleasure of being taken so roughly, pushing her closer to the edge.

With Amber's muffled moans and gasps as his soundtrack, Trent continued to take her with ruthless abandon. He squeezed her throat tighter, feeling a thrill run through him as she squirmed beneath him.

"Fuck, you're so perfect like this," he groaned, sinking deeper into her warmth. "Take my cock, Amber. Show me how much you need it."

Trent's thrusts grew more erratic as he neared his climax. His hand on her throat loosened just enough for her to catch a ragged breath before he captured her lips in a bruising kiss. As he came inside her, he bit down on her lower lip hard.

"That's it," he growled against her mouth. "Scream for me."

Amber's body went stiff as she cried out Trent’s name before a gush of arousal squirted from her core making Trent moan into her mouth as he cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

As Trent pulled out of Amber, his cock still hard and twitching with the aftershocks of their intense coupling, he looked down at her with a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. He could see the evidence of their sex glistening on her thighs and inner legs.

“Come here,” he murmured as he pulled her into his arms, kissing along her jaw and neck as he got comfortable on the plush hotel bed.

Amber melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against hers as he peppered soft kisses along her neck. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, easing the remnants of her earlier distress. She could feel the tension in her body begin to dissipate, replaced by a sense of safety and belonging.

“Trent,” she whispered, her voice still tinged with vulnerability. “I didn’t expect any of this.”

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression serious yet tender. “Neither did I, but I’m glad it happened. I want to be here for you, in every way.”

Amber felt her heart race at his words. The connection they shared was undeniable, and despite the chaos of the night, she felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. “I want that too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Trent smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Then let’s take our time. We don’t have to rush anything. Just enjoy being together.”

Placing his hand at the back of Amber’s neck, Trent pulled her into his lips, humming as her tongue slipped into his mouth.

With a low, possessive growl, Trent deepened the kiss, his tongue dominating Amber's as he pulled her flush against him. His large hand roaming over her body, mapping every curve and dip with an almost reverent intensity.

“Are you trying to get another round out of me?” Trent smirked against her mouth, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

Amber let out a breathless moan as Trent's tongue tangled with hers, his strong hands gripping her body possessively. The sensation of his arousal pressing insistently against her hip sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

"Yes," she breathed, her eyes dark with desire as she gazed up at him through lowered lashes. "I need you, Trent. All of you."

Trent growled low in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction. "You drive me crazy, you know that? I can't get enough of you."

He rolled onto his back, pulling Amber on top of him. She gasped as she felt his hard length slide against her slick folds, the tip nudging teasingly at her entrance.

"You're so wet for me already," Trent groaned, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. He circled her hardened nipples with his thumbs, sending sparks of pleasure racing through her.

Amber arched into his touch, her back bowing as she ground herself against him. "I can never get enough of you either," she panted, her voice husky with need.

Trent's fingers tightened around her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he rolled his hips upward. The head of his cock caught on her entrance, teasing them both with the promise of what was to come.

"Fuck, Amber," he breathed, his eyes blazing with lust. "You feel incredible."

With a low growl, Trent surged upwards, burying himself deep inside her in one powerful thrust. Amber cried out at the sudden penetration, her nails digging into Trent's chest as she adjusted to his size.

"That's it," Trent encouraged, holding still for a moment to let her acclimate. "Take all of me."

Amber's body trembled as Trent filled her completely, his thick cock stretching her inner walls to the limit. She felt so full, so owned by him in this moment.

"You're mine," Trent grated out, his voice rough with possession. "Only mine."

"Yes...I'm yours," Amber whispered, her eyes glazing over with pleasure.

With a low groan, Trent began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in deep and hard. The force of his thrusts jolted through Amber's entire being, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling out from where they were joined.

Trent's hands gripped Amber's hips tightly as he pistoned into her again and again, each stroke hitting that perfect spot within her that made stars burst behind her eyelids. Her moans grew louder with every powerful drive of his hips until she was practically screaming with pleasure.

"Look at me," Trent demanded as he pounded into her relentlessly.

Amber's gaze snapped up to meet Trent's, her eyes wild and unfocused with pleasure. "Yes, look at me!" she gasped out between moans.

Trent reveled in the sight of her: body glistening with sweat, face flushed a deep pink, lips parted as she panted for air. He felt primal and powerful in this moment, completely unstoppable.

"You're so sexy like this," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. "Taking my cock so well."

With renewed intensity, Trent drove into Amber again and again, each thrust hitting harder than the last. The bed creaked beneath them as he fucked her with abandon, lost in the pure sensation of their bodies joining.

"Come on my cock," Trent commanded through gritted teeth, his own climax building rapidly. "Let go for me."

Amber's body tensed as she teetered on the brink, Trent's commanding words pushing her over the edge. With a strangled cry, she convulsed around him, her inner walls clamping down on his throbbing cock as waves of intense pleasure crashed through her.

"That's it," Trent groaned, feeling Amber's pussy milking him for all he was worth. "Squeeze my dick like that."

The sensation of her climax triggered his own orgasm. With a final, brutal thrust, Trent buried himself to the hilt and came hard inside her. He roared out his release, his hips jerking spasmodically as he filled Amber with spurt after spurt of hot semen.

As they rode out their high together, Trent wrapped Amber in his arms and held her close. They were both panting heavily now, sweatdrenched and sated.

"Fuck," Trent breathed against her neck when he could finally speak again. "You're so perfect for me.”

Once he’d mustered the willpower, Trent got out of the bed, his hands guiding Amber as he held her tired body against his leading her into the bathroom from behind so they could shower.

Trent’s hands cupped her breasts softly, her body still trembling subtly as a result of great, mind-numbing, toe-curling, tear-inducing sex.

As the hot water cascaded over their intertwined bodies, Trent's hands continued to roam possessively over Amber's curves. He squeezed and massaged her breasts, his touch gentling as her postorgasmic tremors subsided. "You're exhausted, baby," he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck. "Let me help you clean up."

Trent took the washcloth from her hand and began to lather it with soap, his fingers lingering on her sensitive skin as he cleaned every inch of her. When he reached between her legs, he gently petted her swollen lips and drenched folds, humming softly as he gathered the proof of their coitus.

After washing away the remnants of their passion, Trent cradled Amber in his arms, carrying her out of the shower and back to their hotel bed. He tucked her into the covers, kissing her forehead tenderly before slipping beneath the sheets himself.

Turning over to face Trent, Amber smiled as she gently traced his plump lips with her fingertip.

“What was actually said to you tonight?” he asked softly, instantly making Amber’s finger halt their actions.

“It was Micah,” she explained, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she relived the moment over in her head. “He said that I was beautiful but implied that you would never take me seriously. He made it sound like you were this asshole who doesn’t care about anyone but yourself, and that I someone you could easily share with your friends and that you had before.”

Trent's expression darkened as he listened to Amber recount the hurtful words Micah had said. Anger simmered beneath the surface, and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I can’t believe he would say that to you,” he said, his voice low and filled with frustration. “Do you believe him?”

Amber looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “It just made me question everything again,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Trent reached out, tilting her chin up so she would meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he insisted.

Bowing his head towards her, he locked eyes with her, his expression earnest and unwavering. “You are not just some passing fling to me, Amber. You’re someone I genuinely care about. I want you to know that.”

Amber felt a rush of warmth at his words, but the doubt still lingered in her mind. She wanted to believe him, but it was only time that could tell if his words held any truth to them.

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