#case of the burning masks

[mtg-art-daily]

Case of the Burning Masks

Artist: Bastien L. Deharme

[almostlookedhuman]

[enbysiriusblack]

thinking about horror film au marauders.. (tw. lotta gore)

lily the nerdy, bossy character that comes out with a giant axe and brutally beats up the killer/s to the shock of every other character

peter is either the bargaining character that tries to bargain and give the killer/s what they want just as he's about to die. or the character secretly on the killer's side that's revealed at the end

definitely giving wolfstar the making out whilst a killer is in their house/car/woods

mary, dorcas, remus, and lily all turning to each other wondering which of them is gonna die first, when they realise they're basically in a horror film cause of the black character dying first trope (i watched the blackening yesterday and the tagline "we can't all die first" gave me this hc. very good film. highly recommend)

sirius is the resident horror film expert that tells them what the killer usually does next (im imagining someone dying and everyone is just screaming over the dying body and sirius is also screaming but then adds in "this is exactly like that scene in wrong turn!"

the screamers are probably mary, remus, and james. not a definite though. i can see it being other people.

marlene gets the most jump scare scenes and emmeline gets the most hearing creaking and footsteps

james is the best at fighting but absolutely hates blood. feel like there needs to be a scene where he's like punching a masked killer and is doing SO WELL. and he gets the killer on the ground and is about to pull the mask off when the killer pulls out a knife and stabs at his hands and chest and shit. and he just screams and backs away staring at his blood until he faints.

as marlene dies, she clutches dorcas' hand and whispers "the lesbians never get a happy ending. apart from fear street... why couldn’t this be like fear street?"

the final girl HAS to be mary. ofc.

[i23kazu]

may or may not be making another scara smau on my alt account 🤞🤞🤞 we’ll see how it goes @yingviere

[casstelli]

literally gonna kms i have covid bro i wanted to hang out w my friends this is the worst

[somnoir]

Ghost KingConsort?

Prompt: Demon Twins AU where the ghost king is summoned and claims his appearance is that of his beloveds. Shenanigans of a vindictive dead twin.

Danyal Al Ghul escaped from the league. The Lazarus Pits were never merciful but for once, they were. The pits were merciful to him as the green swallowed him and spat him out miles away from that place.

Danny can't forget his first death, the sword in his gut as Damian cut through him. The title of heir was reserved for only one of them and the spare was no longer needed. He supposed it was yet another mercy upon him, knowing that the title of spare was not simple. He would have been Damian's spare—spare parts.

Danny remembers his second death. The electricity that killed him over and over again as the ectoplasm spilled from the artificial portal brought him back to life again and again. One second he was dead, the other he was being revived. It was torturous in every way possible.

It's been years since then. His parents were a difficult case, unable to accept that their darling child had died and continued to believe that Danny was being possessed by the menace Phantom. They hunted him, tried to rip him apart to 'free' their son. It took both himself and Jazz leaving with the help of Vlad (reluctantly accepted) for his parents to stop hunting. Their home that had already felt empty was even more empty now.

It's been almost four years since then. Danny had settled into his role as Ghost King, even when the crown of fire floated over his head then descended to be too big, too much—resting around his neck.

It's... Difficult...

CUT TO THE JUSTICE LEAGUE SUMMONING HIM!

Danny Fenton, nineteen and very much overworked from all the paperwork he had to sort through as Ghost King, finds a small tugging to his very being. A summoning he recognized, sighing loudly before he's answer to this visible desperation. Like it was a world ending issue.

And yes, it apparently was when the fabric of reality itself was tearing itself apart for some strange reason. As the ruler of the infinite realms—the king of the very domain that basically glued the multiverse—this was apparently the right call.

Dressed in all of his kingly regalia, Danny felt the crown of fire float up from his neck and burned over his head. His cape, cloak—whatever—was heavy and he blinked, green eyes boring into every soul present. He recognized the fractured soul of the laughing magician—one of his more irksome subjects that avoided taxes like it was the fucking plague. He really should tell Skulker to haunt his grandfather. Maybe even Youngblood would be suitable.

But aside from the laughing magician, his eyes settled upon a familiar soul, a familiar face. Danny blinks again.

Shit... He thought, staring at the masked yet horrified face of his own twin. Robin was nineteen as well by now, older, stronger—redeemed.

In the past, Danny would have cursed Damian to the seven hells and allowed the seven sins to have a bite. But Jazz was blessing. An older sister who made sure to heal him, to let him grow, to let him develop. He's forgiven Damian for his faults. They were children, brainwashed by a mad man. He's not too angry. Resentful and a bit vindictive? That was a given as he technically was the spirit of a murder victim. Of kinslaying.

"Hellblazer." The language spoken by the dead leaves his mouth easily. It can't be understood by the living, and it was barely understood who came back from death. But John Constantine was a different, more difficult case. One hell of a motherfucker that avoided death until the entity itself was ranting to both Clockwork and Danny about his escapes.

And John Constantine recognized his title regardless of the language.

The sad man in a trench coat stiffened, staring at Danny as he stiffly bowed. "High King Phantom." He greets, and attempt at respect. When there was suddenly movement, Constantine was quick to hiss at the others—glaring at Robin who looked ready lunge at them.

Oh, he can't help himself. This was funny. In the words of his own counterpart turned brother—He could make it worse. Jazz was going to nag him, true, but Danny was so. Utterly. BORED. Being Ghost King had a lot of entertainment, like how he got to fight people and basically hang out with people from the past. But it got... Repetitive. Normal Ghosts wouldn't mind with their eternal afterlife, but Danny was still half-alive. He was completely human—just a half dead one.

"Your majesty—" Constantine struggled to explain, "The universe... Do you know why portals have been opening, your majesty? Forgive my impudence but our world has been plagued by portals from different worlds, some even lead to the infinite realm."

"It's not uncommon for natural portals to the realms to open. Many of your dead like to visit." He smirked, "Many like to haunt those who've wronged them."

Constantine gulped, "Your majesty, would you, by any chance, be aware of why these portals are opening?"

Danny sighed. Well, he can't say he wasn't concerned. This was his world too after all, even when now. It was Jazz's world, where she still went to school, it was Sam and Tucker's world. It was his family's world. So yes, he is concerned.

"The portals to the realms are under my jurisdiction. They are natural and open in my places with thick and ambient ectoplasm." Danny drawls, "But these dimensional portals are strange. I'll check in with the Master of Time to see if someone is meddling with reality. It may not even be from your dimension."

He can only shrug at that, remembering how Dan had practically ripped through time with his madness and rage, tearing through the world to ensure his birth.

"I see, thank you for your understanding, your majesty." Constantine nervously says.

"Say, would you like to watch the battle royale for your soul?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused, magician." Danny rolls his eyes, "But you'd certainly enjoy watching people tear each other to shreds for your fucked up soul. I don't understand why people want it so much when the paperwork it comes with is a hell in itself."

"Your majesty," Constantine paled.

"I'm joking. I'll deal with this as quickly as possible." Danny paused, grinning as he made a show of offering his hand to the justice league. "I couldn't possible sit by and allow my beloved's world to crumble. He'd be devastated."

Constantine blinked. Everyone blinked. And then Danny turned to Damian and... Batman. Bruce Wayne. His father. At least he seemed to be treating Damian better than Jack did with Danny and Jazz.

"You must have recognized this face, yes?" Danny tilted his head. "You are his family."

"What have you done to my brother?" Robin—Damian immediately growled, like a feral cat as he unsheathed his katanas and aimed for Danny.

"Hm." Danny rolled his eyes, "He's well. Very much taken care of." Because yes, Danny was well fed and taken care of, especially as the Ghost King. "I've taken his form so I assumed you knew of him."

He dismissed Robin long before he could even speak, turning to Constantine once again. "Don't fret too much, John Constantine." The man in question flinched once his name was uttered in the language of the dead he could barely understand. "This will be fixed in a days time. If not, I will send someone to deal with it."

The Ghost King's appearance had been startling when they summoned him. A boy with a striking resemblance to Damian if not for his white hair. A twin? Bruce had sounded devastated at the implications. But Damian? He'd seen the ghost king and felt nauseous, unable to tear his eyes away from the eldritch being that wore his brother's face.

It took a lot of explaining once they were back in the cave. The duel, Danyal's death, the Lazarus taking him and he was never seen again. Everyone was... Well, they were devastated. Yes. Grieving a son and brother they never met. But the Ghost King has been summoned with a face similar to that of their father's, a face that was the exact same one to their brothers. The Ghost King who referred to the dead Danyal as his beloved.

It's the next day when they're back in the watchtower, anxiously waiting for any update. Constantine continues to curse under his breath, shaking his head before a portal rips through reality. Everyone stiffened, preparing for the worst.

A girl appears, a child. She's a spry little thing with glowing green eyes, flaming white hair, and a face that they immediately recognized.

"Sorry that I'm late! Times pretty bendy and we don't really keep up with it." The unknown laughs, "Well, short answer, Phantom has identified the problem and has attempted to apprehend it. Unfortunately, it's been a week on our end and the perp apparently fell into your world."

Time distortion—Constantine had mentioned it. But they stare at the girl who rambled about their supposed target until Batman cleared his throat, seemingly softer on the girl—someone who was visibly a child.

"Young lady, welcome to the Watchtower. Even id the greeting it late." Batman curtly yet gently says. "May I know your name?"

The girl blinked. "Oh! You can call me Specter, princess of the infinite realms! I'm Phantom and Danny's daughter."

It is then that the possibilities processes in their heads.

One. The Ghost King took the form of his beloved, aka the dead twin brother of one Damian Wayne.

Two. Damian's dead twin and Bruce's dead son might be the queen (consort?) of the infinite realms.

Three. Danyal and Phantom had a daughter. Damian and the rest of the Bar kids were uncles and aunts. Bruce was now officially a grandpa.

Damian faints on the spot.

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Hero (Chosen One) x Saint!Reader

In all of his life, Elias only remembers crying once. It was when he was a young boy, no older than six years old. He had been taken to the Church for a baptism, only for his holy power and status as the Chosen One to be revealed. He had then been stolen from his parents and beaten black and blue until he was molded into the Hero that would save everyone.

Resigned to his role, Elias never allowed himself to feel any semblance of emotion. He only needs to fulfill the prophecy, after all. No one cares about who he is as a person, about him. They’ve put him outside to protect the borders of humanity by sacrificing his life. They’ve put a distance between him, parading him as a Hero while masking their selfish desires of having him take on the entire burden of bringing salvation to humankind. He is nothing more than a glorified sacrifice without the privilege of feeling emotions. 

But if that’s the case, why does his heart ache when he’s with you? Why does his stomach flutter? Why does a smile he had thought he lost in his youth come back when you’re around? Why does rage burn his fingers when you get hurt? Why do tears wet his cheeks when he holds your cold, lifeless body?

Please, please tell him that you’re just sleeping. Tell him that you’ll greet him when morning comes. Please, use your warm hands to brush his tears away. Tell him that it’ll all be okay.

Despite Elias’ ardent desires, the dead cannot comfort the living. 

“My child,” a voice from the Heavens calls, a beam of light surrounding Elias. “I thank you for your service.”

“Please,” Elias murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I cannot live without the Saint.”

The voice above is silent as it observes Elias, who cradles you in his arms like you’re his most important treasure. “I cannot change the hands of fate.”

“Then I will,” Elias responds. “Turn back time for me and I will find another way to seal the Demon Lord.”

“It does not exist. You will only put yourself through the same pain.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. As long as I can save the Saint.”

The voice from the Heavens is silent, before it says, “Very well. If that is your desire.”

And so, time is rewinded back to when Elias was a young boy. He once again goes to Church to receive baptism. He is once again shown to be the Hero. He is once again stripped from his parents and beaten black and blue, but this time, he does not cry. Instead, he looks forward so that he can find a way to save you.

But no matter Elias’ efforts, bad end after bad end follows his footsteps. No matter what he does, no matter what he changes, no matter what, bad ends are the only ends he meets with. A good ending where the world is saved and you are still alive just doesn’t exist. So, Elias has no choice, really. He’ll create his own bad end, except this time, the world will be sacrificed for you.

[bi-writes]

it's halloween, y'all. let's get into it.

ghost contacts you, a local medium, to come rid his house of the souls that still linger. "the voices," he says, "the screamin'. they're too loud." the lives far, so normally you'd say no. it's not worth it to waste the gas on a 2 hour drive outside of manchester, but he said he'd pay, and his "half now, half later" was more than you made in a month.

you record new voices to make the job extra spectacular. creepy sounds, even music, and you pack a little fake blood just to make it believable in case you need something more physical to change his mind.

when you do a walkthrough of his house, the only ghost you find is its owner. he lingers as you walk, always appearing behind doorways or poking his head around corners. you're wary of him, but his money is burning a hole in your pocket, so you keep going, the little machine in your hand crackling as you walk through a dark hallway.

"where do you hear them? the screaming?" you ask, turning. he's where you expect him to be; big brute of a man standing as he watches you from down the hall. he nods to the door on your right, rusted door closed shut, and you open it warily, stepping inside.

it's a quaint room. neatly kept. the odd thing about it that you note is its lack of windows. there's a twin-sized bed in the corner with an array of fluffy blankets, and there's clothing folded neatly on the bed. you run your fingers over the wall, noticing the squares of padded foam hung in a perfect pattern across all four sides of the room. you step a little further into the room, turning again, and you swallow hard when you see him standing at the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his eyes scrunching in a way that you assume he must be smiling under the mask.

you make eye contact with him just as his fingers squeeze the doorknob tight. you pause, the hair on your arms and along the back of your neck standing on end. something isn't right. something is wrong. you're frozen as you stare at him, the dread filling your insides too fast. your heart drops into your stomach, and just as you make a quick break for the door, it slams shut in your face.

ghost hums as he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. it works now, it works this time, he doesn't have to deal with it. it's bliss; quiet in the hallway, just as he prefers it.

he can't hear the screaming anymore.

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Who Started The Fire?

From the prompts list:

“That’s my emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.”

Batman stared down the two teens standing before him. The boy was pointedly looking anywhere but the Bat’s face, finding more interest in the dirt and gravel crunching under his shoes. Meanwhile, the girl stood with her arms crossed, head held high, meeting Batman’s gaze with a defiant glare that wouldn’t be out of place on any of his own children’s faces.

Behind them lay the smoking remains of what was once a warehouse that had been used as a front for a weapons smuggling operation that the bats had collectively spent the past few weeks investigating. Although their investigation had taken longer than anticipated thanks to this group’s rather impressive security, they had been so close to a breakthrough…when the place had gone up in an inferno.

When the Gotham vigilantes had first arrived on the scene the fire had been so intense that they’d had to put in their gas masks to avoid any inhaling any of the thick black smoke from not only the fire, but also whatever chemicals may have potentially been within the building that would have been released into the air.

Batman’s initial hypothesis had been that the group had become aware of their investigation and burned the place to avoid any evidence being discovered while they moved locations. However, that theory had been shelved when Red Hood had announced the presence of charred bodies amongst the rubble, and evidence of explosives having been used in multiple area where the building’s structure had been the weakest. Whoever had been inside had not had any warning of the blaze that had swallowed the building too fast for them to get to safety, and with the structure being compromised from the explosions all exists had been blocked, preventing the inhabitant’s escape. Red Hood and Nightwing had been discussing potential suspects as Batman and Red Robin searched for any evidence that could have survived the destruction, when a clattering sound followed by the sound of voices hushing each other had altered all of the on scene bats to the presence of possibly several unknowns.

The two teens had been apprehended quickly and ushered to the side, far enough away from the scene of the fire to avoid them overhearing details of the investigation and to prevent any potential tampering. Accidental or otherwise. The teens had been stubborn in their refusal to answer any of the bat’s questions to their presence. Nobody knew why they were there, where they had come from, and they had even refused to disclose their names. Oracle, unfortunately, was sick with the flu and had been gently ordered to rest by Agent A. Batman was nevertheless confident that they would be able to discover their identities quickly either once they had returned to the cave or if they could get the kids to talk.

He would have asked Red Hood to speak with the teens, he was the best with kids. And if caught up in anything illegal they often seemed to respond better to him due to his more ambiguous morals and reputation for ensuring kid’s safety. Both from rouges and in some cases, the rest of the bats and birds. But he had been needed in Crime Ally after he had been alerted to a gunfight breaking out between two gangs who had been more hostile and antagonistic in recent months. Nightwing had accompanied him, and Spoiler had diverted from her patrol route to assist. That left Batman and Red Robin behind to deal with both the police and the frustratingly stubborn teens.

Batman resisted the urge to punch the bridge of his nose as yet another question was blatantly ignored by both kids. The boy had begun fiddling with the sleeved of his letterman jacket and the girl had taken to checking her manicured nails for any dirt or imperfections.

Just as he was about to turn the questioning over to one of the on scene police officers, a writhing mass of shadow had emerged from the girl’s shadow. Two tendrils of black smoke reached out to wrap themselves around the wrists and hands of both teens, who had in turn glanced down at their hands and smiled.

“We’re fine,” the boy had muttered quietly, “no need to worry.”

“What is that?” Batman asked, eyeing the mass with a cautious suspicion. He wanted to believe it wasn’t hostile given the kids reactions to it. But this was Gotham.

The girl shot him another glare, one hand on her hip while the other remained in the hold of whatever the shadowy mass was.

“That sir,” she spat out the first word with such venom to her tone that Batman almost flinched, “is our emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.”

[kitkatscabinet]

Don't feed him he'll come back

simon riley x neighbour! reader

summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.

word count: 1.6k

part 2 here

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment block. Though it feels more accurate to say he’s an occasional visitor. He comes and goes, like a lost spirit, unsure and aimlessly wandering. He slinks silently through the hallways like a wraith in the few instances when he is there. 

The first time you see him is just a glimpse from the corner of your eye, a large hulking shadow standing at the door next to your apartment as you step out from yours. 

Your feet stutter to a stop, the landlord had mentioned a neighbour but in the 3 months you’d lived there you’d never seen him. As if sensing your eyes lingering curiously on his form, deep brown eyes turn to meet yours. You can make out no other details of his face, the black material of his balaclava obscuring most of his features. 

A century could have passed in those few seconds and you doubt you’d have noticed. Despite the weariness in his gaze, you found yourself pulled into the deep pools of those stunning eyes. Like a predator, his gaze never moves from your body, even as you offer him a friendly smile and wave before walking down the hall to continue your day. 

You’d heard the uneasily whispered tales of the Ghost that haunted the apartment next to yours from some of the older tenants, though you’d never put much stock into the idle gossip. His burning gaze bores into your back and follows until the doors of the elevator close and you suppose you should feel intimidated. 

It’s hard to conjure up any such feelings, even with the knowledge of the wariness he elicits in others. It’s hard to fear the hulking figure of the Ghost when he had such sad eyes. 

He hid it well but you recognised the loneliness that lined his shoulders, the bone-deep exhaustion for life that managed to slip through tiny cracks in his self-imposed shield. 

You suppose at that moment that even Ghosts can be haunted. 

Maybe that’s why you found yourself knocking on his door later that evening with the tray of pasta bake. Initially, you’d made a large batch to have a few days left over for yourself. Yet just as you opened your fridge you’d hesitated, mind flashing to the man next door. Did he have any food for himself? There was likely nothing fresh, and he’d seemed too exhausted to pull himself to the grocery store during the brief encounter earlier. 

Donning your Crocs, you’d marched over and knocked on his door before it properly registered that you were in pyjamas. The door swings open and your eyes trail up, the balaclava is gone, replaced with a simple black face mask letting you glimpse blond hair. 

“Sorry if this is a bit intrusive, but I figured you probably didn’t have any food so…” you trailed off, pushing the tray towards him, expectantly waiting for him to grab it. It took a few seconds before he robotically took the tray, probably out of sheer confusion more than anything else. Stepping back before he could return the food you offered one last smile before fleeing to the sanctuary of your apartment. 

Two days later you exit your apartment to an empty and cleaned tray, a small note with a simple ‘thank you’ placed within. 

His name’s Simon, and apart from an introduction and the occasional dish left at his door, you don’t actually interact with him again until nearly a month later. And that had simply been a case of forced proximity a la broken elevator style. 

Simon remained unflappable as ever, and it’s at that moment you decide to try and get a reaction that isn’t stoic silence. 

“A bear walks into a bar and says give me a whiskey and …cola” Brown eyes turned to look at you curiously, brow raised to let you know he was listening. “Why the big pause? Asks the bartender. The bear shrugged. I’m not sure, I was born with them.” 

The joke doesn’t land, silence is the only reward for your comedy genius. “Ok, playing hardball. Alright then… Why did Susan fall off the swings?” Again, there is no answer, but a glance at his relaxed posture indicates he’s listening. “Because she had no arms.” 

No laugh but you blaze ahead. 

“Knock knock.” It takes a few seconds but with a playful glare, he responds quietly and with a tinge of amusement. 

“Who’s there?” It’s not the first time you’ve heard his voice, but it still births a serious case of butterflies in your gut that takes more than a few seconds to fight down and regain your composure. 

“Not Susan.” You can’t stop the peal of your giggles at that one, and while you swear you see the corner of his cheek curve upwards a little it’s not enough for you to be satisfied. 

“I can’t believe it’s come to this, but I guess it’s time for the big guns. You better prepare yourself Riley 'cause I’m done holding back.” You pause for a few seconds to let the anticipation settle. 

“What is… Whitney Houston’s favourite type of coordination?” You take a deep breath before positively belting out, “HAAAAAAAND-EEEEEYE.” Whether it’s the shock from the sudden musical number or the joke itself you’re finally rewarded with a faint chuckle. 

“Aha!” you shout in triumph, a smug grin splitting your face, “I heard that laugh, you can do more scowl!”

The doors suddenly open with a ding and Simon pushes off the wall, but not before rolling his eyes playfully your way. Silence once again descends during the walk to your respective apartments, yet it’s not uncomfortable. Swiping your key card it’s just as you step through the threshold that you hear it, 

“Why did the chicken go the seance? To get to the other side.” Whipping your head around, you are met with the sight of his door closing behind his large frame, but a win is a win and you celebrate mentally over the exchange. 

The next time you leave a dish at his door it comes with a written joke. Sure enough, a few days later you received one back. The months start to blur, and your Ghost comes and goes, but the jokes remain. 

Month three sees you snagging his number, a daily joke sent his way even when he can’t respond. Because as much as Simon Riley tried to hide his hurts from the world, he couldn’t hide them from you. 

You’ve loved a soldier before in your brother, can see the signs and smell the gunsmoke and blood from miles away. Apart from his team, it becomes obvious the man has nobody left, and believes he doesn’t deserve to be cared for.

You’re not foolish enough to think you can be that for him, but you are understanding enough to give him the choice. So you continue to send him jokes, puns, pictures of your cat Bingbong and anything that you think will get him to at least smile.  

Three months turns to six turns to eight. He’s not physically there most of the time but you take every opportunity he is to coax him from the loneliness of his apartment like a stray kitten.

Once-a-week dinners at least. Freely sharing your life’s story without expecting anything in return. One evening you’d plopped your chunky tuxedo cat down on his lap and watched him freeze, hands hovering with wide eyes as he considered the ball of fur making biscuits on his thigh. 

It was cute. He was cute. Even when he whipped around to glare when you took a photo, the corners of his lips downturned and tugged at the scars on his face. His bare face wasn’t necessarily a new sight but it causes your breath to hitch nonetheless. 

Something you think he notices given the way his lips quirked up suddenly in a smirk. Rolling your eyes you huffed before plonking yourself down next to him on the couch. Bingbong doesn’t scramble onto your lap like you expect, instead deciding to remain on his new favourite human, traitor. 

You pay very little attention to the movie even though you’d chosen it, too acutely focused on the large bulk of Simon next to you. Your shoulder rests against his arm, his body heat emanating from beneath his hoodie and absorbing into your skin. 

You’ve never been one to fall asleep during movies, but there’s something about Simon’s presence that soothes you, lulling you into a restful slumber as you slump against his chest. Bingbong meows his discontent as you accidentally squish him, jumping away with a huff, none of which you notice. 

It’s the sun shining straight onto your face through the open blinds that wakes you the next morning, a groan of confusion leaving your lips as you stretch and look around to orient yourself. 

Sitting up, the blanket that you just now realised covered your form fell down to your waist. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes your phone falls to the floor when you stand, the screen flicking on to display the time. 

It’s not until you sleepily stumble into your bedroom, plugging your nearly dead phone in and face-planting onto your pillow that you realise Simon must have tucked you in. The smile that covers your face is so wide it is painful and you fall asleep once more, dreaming of the phantom sensation of his arms wrapped around you.

[lowkeyren]

reverse dating tropes w hsr men! (pt. 2)

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — gepard, aventurine, sunday (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 2.1k, downbad gepard + flirty aven + sunday is js fluff overload, wrecked my brain out for this, serval robin cameo xx, anyway pls enjoy!! reblogs r appreciated <3

boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

gepard ♡‧₊˚

"blind date" but gepard is just too shy to ask you out himself so serval does him a favour —setting you up on a date with him.

gepard clutches the bouquet of ball peonies tightly behind his back; he catches sight of you sitting on a bench, patiently waiting for him. to ease his nerves, he takes a deep breath, reassuring himself, it’s going to be alright gepard, just go over there, give them the flowers, and ask them out! surely it’s not that hard…

upon spotting him, you rise from your seat and wave eagerly in his direction. he hastens his steps, closing the distance between you. as he stands in front of you, you can see a faint blush tinting his cheeks, the rosy hue contrasting with his fair skin. he clears his throat, “ahem…sorry to keep you waiting.” revealing the bouquet behind his back, he averts his gaze downwards, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

you accept the flowers graciously, smiling warmly at him. “and would you please—” in that moment, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, it's the worst thing he could have done. 

oh aeons… you look so beautiful. his heart races, threatening to leap out of his chest, and he finds himself at a loss for words, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. “hm?” you tilt your head with a soft smile, the sound of your voice washes over him like a gentle breeze, leaving him tongue-tied. he’s sure you can see the redness spreading to his ears now.

panicking, he blurts out “—pass the flowers to my sister.” (re: go on a date with me) 

his eyes widened at his own words, wait no he meant to ask you out on a date! 

“ah… okay, no problem!” you reply, masking your surprise with a polite smile, quickly dismissing any lingering curiosity. though you do find it a bit odd that he would arrange a meeting just to pass on flowers to his sister, but hey perhaps as the captain of silvermane guards, he's simply too busy to visit serval himself. in any case, you admire his thoughtfulness towards his sibling.

“now tell me brother dearest, to what do i owe the pleasure of receiving ball peonies from you?” serval crosses her arm across her chest, learning against her workbench, her face deadpan, oh she’s definitely aware of what happened.

sensing her brother’s nervousness, she shakes her head teasingly. "oh, nevermind! please, spare me the explanation… you totally fumbled, and told them to give the flowers to me? really, geppie? and how long do you plan to drag this out for?" 

gepard sighs as he realises there's no use in trying to deflect her sharp observation. he can only resort to his last-ditch effort now: asking serval to set you up on a date with him. 

so now, you find yourself sitting at a cozy diner, waiting for your so-called “blind date” that serval has set you up on.

(“i guarantee you won’t regret it!” serval throws a playful wink at you; you give up trying to figure her underlying intentions) 

suddenly, a man walks over to you, you assume that he is your date— “gepard? what are you doing here..?” gepard's cheeks flush with embarrassment as he stands before you, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "i, uh... i’m your blind date." he admits, swallowing nervously. 

you let out a soft laugh, “oh i was hoping it would be you.” you admit, your voice tinged with a hint of bashfulness.

hoping it was him? so that means you feel the same right?

needless to say, your date went well. before you part ways, you press a soft kiss to his already-burning cheeks (don’t do that again, you’re gonna break him), and you disappear into the distance, leaving behind a trail of butterflies in his stomach; he presses his hand against the spot you pecked, he thinks he might not be able to sleep for the next few nights, what you have done to the poor guy. 

oh gepard, he is so deeply, utterly, in love with you.  

aventurine ୨୧｡˚ ⋆

CEO playboy aventurine takes an interest in you, but you unintentionally lead him on, so he ends up falling heads over heels for you.

“meet me in my office in 5 minutes.” you immediately pause at what you’re doing, and read the message from your boss over and over again. oh gosh you’re really done for now! what did you do wrong?! your mind races as you try to recall any mistakes you’ve made recently, but nothing comes to mind… 

you nervously knock on the door to aventurine’s office, feeling your palms grow clammy with sweat. a voice rings out, “ah, yes please come in.”

you step into the room, not daring to meet your boss’ gaze. “i’m here sir, as you requested. is there anything you need from me?” you suddenly find the marble floor very interesting, opting to stare at it as you anxiously wait for his reply.

aww, are they really that shy to see me? that’s cute.

aventurine’s next sentence catches you completely off guard, “so, what do you think about my new tie, hm?” he walks over to you, a smirk forming on his lips.

is this one of his stupid schemes again? aeons, this won’t work on you.

“...it's crooked. let me fix it for you.” you reach out and adjust his tie, being careful as to not accidentally choke him (even if you really want to, just because he scared the shit out of you by calling you into his office for something like this), lest you get fired.

aventurine is pleasantly taken aback by your boldness. usually those who fall victim to his flirtatious ways are quick to shower him with compliments, but your reaction is refreshingly unexpected. or perhaps you are challenging him? oh well, a little gamble never hurts, right?

it's obvious he’s taken a liking to you; for the next few weeks, he's been calling you to his office more and more frequently, to the point where you're no longer nervous to enter, as you know it’s probably nothing serious. plus, you’ve gotten used to the “strange” reasons he requests for your presence.

including the times where he made you do your work in his office, claiming that he feels lonely and needs your (it can only be you, no one else) company. or the many-times that you told him to manage his money wisely because he CANNOT be spending thousands on you. 

“just a small gift for my favourite employee!” (and it's a whole ass car that costs way above your pay grade)

at this point, you're beginning to think he should hire a secretary. you subconsciously bring the idea up during one of your visits, what you didn’t expect was for him to eagerly agree with you. his eyes twinkle with amusement, “no wonder you’re my favourite, of course you’re interested in being my secretary, well lucky you! your new position begins tomorrow.” 

so instead of hiring a secretary like any normal person would, he makes YOU his secretary. and hey, when did you ever express that you would like to be his secretary? this scumbag…

“oh don’t be so nervous sweetheart, just sort these out for me—” he hands you a folder of documents, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “and stay here while you work on them.. want to see your pretty face.”

you think your boss is insufferable, even more so now that you’ve fallen for his charms. it's as if he enjoys playing this game of cat and mouse, keeping you on your toes with his teasing remarks and lingering touches. yet beneath the facade of annoyance, there’s something undeniably alluring about the way he looks at you, as if you're the only person in the room. well you’re not far off; you are the sole focus of his attention. 

like right now, while you attempt to maintain your composure under his unmistakably, shameless, lovesick gaze; his lips curl into a mischievous smirk,  “oh by the way, dinner's on me tonight. choose whatever you like." with a coy smile, you decide to tease him, “what? can’t even ask me out properly?” you quip, raising an eyebrow in faux innocence.

and later that night you find your boss on one knee, waiting at your front porch, in his hands are freshly bought flowers. his eyes immediately light up the moment you open the door, a horrified look on your face. “will you go on a date with me?” oh how he delights in your flustered expression.

“i said ask me out! not get down on one knee and propose!” 

“...so will you?”

don’t worry, he knows you'll look forward to the day he proposes (you’re not even dating, yet) but for now he’ll spoil you with the most lavish meal known to mankind, not that you’re complaining about it either. 

sunday ༊*·˚

not-so-accidental confession with sunday who intentionally leads you to overhear him talking about his feelings for you. 

you raise your hand, ready to knock on the door, but a voice from inside halts your movement. you hesitate, your knuckles hovering just inches away from the wood, as the unexpected sound piques your curiosity. 

“brother, why didn’t you tell me this before?” it’s no doubt that the soft-spoken voice belongs to robin, her tone carrying a tinge of surprise; and by the way she addresses the other person, it can't be anyone but sunday himself. 

their conversation sounds tense, you think it's inappropriate to eavesdrop, but just as you were about to leave, sunday's voice catches your attention, and you freeze at the sound of your name slipping past his lips. 

“—their infectious laugh, how their eyes light up with pure innocence, their unwavering passion and selflessness that knows no bounds; always putting others before themselves. how can i possibly not love them?”

your face flushes with warmth upon hearing his words, and you're unable to suppress a cough that escapes; you bring your hands to your mouth, hoping to stifle any further embarrassment.

robin chuckles, “oh brother, i understand exactly what you mean”, a genuine smile spreads across her face. “...seems like you’re expecting a guest” she raises an eyebrow knowingly, “i’ll take my leave now." with that, she gives sunday a reassuring pat on the shoulder and gracefully exits the room, shooting you a playful wink as she walks by.

uh oh… you’re totally busted

you immediately turn on your heels, trying to slip away before sunday realises you're there. but just before you can make your escape, someone grabs your wrist, holding you firmly in place. you turn around to see sunday looking down at you, his eyes flickering with emotions swirling within him.

"i swear i didn't hear anything!" you exclaim, waving your hand in front of you defensively.

“really…nothing?”

“yup! nothing at all.” you lie through your teeth, cringing at yourself.

“nothing? ...but i made sure you were there to hear everything.” a hint of disappointment evident in his voice.

“huh..?” your expression twists with confusion, a faint blush creeping up from your neck. you were meant to hear that? he just poured his heart out to his sister…about you! 

sunday smiles, oh there’s no point in lying now, he knows you heard him. (as expected)

he steps closer to you, his arms caging you between the wall and himself. “you know i meant everything i said right?” a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, leaving you momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond; you can feel your chest swelling with warmth, his wings flutter subconsciously as he awaits your response. 

“y-yes…” you avert your gaze, too shy to stare into his eyes. “please, look at me…” he gently tilts your chin up, his eyes boring into yours. “i wanted to tell you that i love you, for so long” he looks vulnerable at that moment, a side he only ever shows to you; a side of him only you get to see.

“i love y—” sunday gently places his finger on your lips, silencing you. you tilt your head at his gesture, your mouth still agape. “don’t say it back yet…” moving his hand to hold your face, “allow me to take you out on a date, then tell me how you feel.” you interlace your fingers with the his that rest against your face, nodding your head in acceptance.

though sunday longs for you to utter those 3 words to him, he wants to make that moment perfect, just as you are to him. despite sunday’s intention for you to overhear him, he regrets not being able to catch your reaction to his words, so next time (re: on the date), he vows to repeat it as many times as necessary; he will do anything to fulfill your every wish.

and should you desire for him to put a ring on your finger, he will do it in a heartbeat. 

✧.*

masterlist boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

[geneviveleocardius]

some husband material headcanons with simon riley

late-night garage dances are his quiet way of loving you. when the house is quiet and you’re both waiting for your daughter to get home from a party, he’ll pull you into a slow dance. he doesn’t say much, just rests his chin on your head as the two of you sway to soft music in the dim light.

if you’re too tired to shower, he’ll gently coax you into letting him wash your hair. his hands are rough but so careful, massaging your scalp in a way that makes your shoulders relax instantly.

when you’re at the beach, you trace your name on his back with sunscreen, leaving the rest bare. later, when the tan sets in and your name is etched on his skin, he looks at it in the mirror and smirks. he loves the quiet claim you have on him, even if he pretends to roll his eyes when you point it out.

simon takes his time applying sunscreen to you at the beach, even though he could be quick about it. he’s meticulous, rubbing it in gently over your shoulders and back, making sure you don’t miss a spot. “can’t have you burning, love,” he says softly. he always uses it as an excuse to trail his fingers along your skin, a subtle moment of affection.

he’s big on touch, even if he doesn’t always initiate it. his favorite moments are when you lay your head on his chest at night and trace the scars on his arms. he doesn’t always talk about them, but he likes the way you don’t shy away from them either.

he’s the kind of dad who stays up until he hears the door click after a late night out. he’ll mutter about the time under his breath, but he softens immediately when your daughter leans in to give him a quick hug before heading to bed.

if he hears you sigh in frustration while cooking or doing something around the house, he’ll quietly walk over, take whatever you’re holding, and finish the job without a word.

he doesn’t say it often, but he loves being domestic with you. folding laundry, fixing things around the house, or even grocery shopping together is calming for him.

simon keeps a picture of the two of you tucked in his wallet—a candid photo of you laughing. when he’s away, he takes it out to remind himself what’s waiting for him back home.

he’ll let you put ridiculous face masks on him during a lazy evening, even though he grumbles about it. “this better not make me smell like a bloody fruit salad,” he mutters, but he stays still for you.

he’s terrible at hiding his smile when he hears you laugh. even in the most mundane moments, your happiness is his favorite sound.

sometimes, he’ll sneak up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and sway you gently to a song only he can hear.

if your child ever talks back to you or says something disrespectful, simon doesn’t let it slide for a second. his voice is calm but firm as he says, “that’s your mum you’re speaking to. apologize—now.” he rarely raises his voice, but the weight behind his words is enough to make them realize they’ve crossed a line. later, he’ll sit down with them, explaining why respect is non-negotiable. “she does everything for us. you don’t ever treat her like that, understood?”

when you have surgery, simon steps into full caregiver mode, even though it’s not something he’s entirely used to. he carefully helps you into the bath, always making sure you’re comfortable and secure. his touch is gentle as he washes you, murmuring, “tell me if anything hurts.”

he dries your hair after the bath, combing it slowly so it doesn’t tangle. “you’re still as gorgeous as ever,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

he insists on carrying you to bed, even if you tell him you can walk. “don’t argue with me, love. you’re meant to rest.” he tucks you in, makes sure you have everything you need, and stays close by in case you need him during the night.

simon takes every opportunity to teach your child the importance of kindness, especially toward you. he models this by being gentle with you, always showing them how love and respect are expressed.

he’s a firm dad, but never unfair. when he has to scold your child, he always makes sure they understand why their behavior was wrong, but he’s quick to reassure them that he loves them no matter what.

during your recovery from surgery, simon takes over all the household duties. he’s not a great cook, but he’ll follow recipes to the letter to make sure you’re well-fed. when something doesn’t turn out quite right, he mutters, “bloody hell,” but doesn’t stop trying.

[joelsdagger]

walk the line || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | ao3

pairing: boston qz!joel x f!reader summary: you and joel have a deal: sex in exchange for supplies. no questions asked. so what happens when you do? or joel fucks you while you’re in a headlock. that’s pretty much it. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: boston qz era, undefined relationship, mentions of sexual favors, choking, rough unprotected p in v sex, dark!joel, mean!joel [in the sense that he doesn’t let her come oops :( ], dubcon [reader tries to loosen his grip], noncon [i’m putting this here just in case], no aftercare. think that’s it. word count: 1.2k

a/n: just….don’t ask. i don’t know what this is. thank you to @papurgaatika for holding a gun to my head so i would post this looking this over, love you schmooks <3 

please heed the tags. protect your peace if this isn’t for you.

He’s being rough. Rougher than the countless times he’s fucked you before. 

In the time since you and Joel started this whole arrangement, you never needed to tell him to fuck you at a blistering pace. He just did it. 

Because you and him are the same. He told you that once. He said that you and him are two sides of the same coin. Both of you are always keeping your walls up and people out. Always keeping everyone at arm’s length. It made this arrangement easy, simple. 

There was just one rule: Nothing personal. A rule you happily got on board with. Getting personal is not really your thing. You learned that it was easier to survive at the end of the world without having someone to care about. Staying detached worked for you. You didn’t care enough about Joel Miller to even bother giving him a second thought. 

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. 

A few minutes ago, you made the mistake of doing just that. 

You got personal. Flicked open the glass casing and pushed the big red button. Nobody gets personal with Joel Miller. Most importantly, you don’t. No. Never you. And now he’s punishing you. Maybe he’s punishing himself too, because he didn’t stop you. Didn’t stop this.

He’s being brutal, intense, and mean. And usually you could handle it because, like plenty of times before, you wanted him to.

But this time, you didn’t.

Your cunt is sensitive, and it hurts; it burns more and more with every rough snap of his hips; warm liquid pricks at your eyes in discontent. Your swollen cunt betrays you, squeezes around his wide girth, and he grunts against the shell of your ear in response. You’re sure he thinks you're begging him for more. To him, the swift flutter of your cunt is a silent tell to pick up the pace. 

And he does. Relentlessly. 

With every unforgiving thrust of his hips, knocking the wind out of your lungs, and the firm hold of his forearm against your neck, compressing your throat, you were barely hanging on. Black spots spatter across your vision, and your eyes slip closed; tears of anguish streak down your cheeks.

It’s too much. You choke on a sob, and your hand comes up to his left arm, weakly tugging at it, attempting to make space between the crook of his elbow and your neck to suck in an ephemeral breath of air. 

Instead, he tightens his grip on you; his left arm pulls you into his chest, and his right hand moves heavily to the top of your head as he brutally fucks up into your throbbing hole. Your head dips back beneath his chin, and the crown of your skull stings as the plastic clip hanging out at the bottom of the valve of his gas mask digs into your scalp.

Your failure to follow his rule — his only rule — had pissed him off so immensely that he didn’t even waste a second to remove his mask.

His muffled voice cuts through the thick haze that took over your mind. “Stay,” he orders through gritted teeth, and you obey.

Because he’s teaching you a lesson.

With him, you mind your tongue.

With him, you do as you're told. 

With him, you don’t ask questions.

With him, you don’t get fucking personal. 

And with your head locked between both of his strong arms and his fat cock hammering your cunt, punching at your cervix — forcing himself in �� he makes certain of that. Makes your mind go fucking blank. Because when your sloppy cunt is stuffed full of his cock, your mind goes fuzzy, and your body goes limp in his hold, you are in no position to question him. To pry. To challenge him. To fight him. A brutal, shattering reminder that Joel Miller calls the shots.

And Joel doesn’t say a word. Not this time. Not when he’s using your body as a way to cope with his anger — to get himself off. It’s all breathless groans and grunts that tell you your holes are enough to satisfy him. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if this is how he always saw you — a means to an end.

Maybe you felt the same way about him.

You don’t have time to dwell on it because then you feel it — he twitches inside your aching cunt, signaling his rapid release. He hisses as he pulls out of your wasted hole, his length bobs against the crease beneath your ass, smearing your sweaty skin with your mixed wet. His cock throbs against you as his seed spills onto your quivering legs, coating your inner thighs, and leaking onto the tattered, moth-eaten mattress. 

You whimper pathetically as his arms release you, and your shuddering form falls forward, crashing into the dusty mattress beneath you. Your chest heaves as your hand comes up to the column of your neck, your weak fingers pressing at the sharp, searing pang there. You don’t doubt your skin has already begun to smart. You cough profusely as your lungs fill with air, a humiliating attempt at catching your breath. 

Joel’s left hand comes down beside your head on the mattress, cushioning his fall as he hovers over you. He groans as his other hand replaces your cunt, and with every fast, wet pump of his fist, the pulsing tip bumps against your skin; his release now paints the small of your back.

A first. 

And in the back of your mind, you try telling yourself it’s his way of claiming you — that he still wants you after you stepped out of line. Your stomach lurches at the same time your cunt flutters at the thought. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but you do know you feel empty without him inside you. And other than what happened here, he typically makes you feel good. Leaves you satisfied before he chases his own release.

Today, he didn’t. He used your body as a means for punishment, and you let him. A penance. For crossing the line he told — you both agreed not to overstep. 

A few moments later, you’re pulling your distressed jeans over your cum-coated thighs while your glassy eyes watch Joel as he zips up his own, his eyes fixed on the molded wooden floor in front. “Joel,” your voice hoarse and raw. 

He peers up at you beneath his lashes, the sunlight clawing through the taped-up window catches on his eyes; the amber in his hazel irises glowering in the light. 

“It won’t happen again,” you whisper.

“No,” he leans forward, grabs his gas mask you didn’t notice he pulled off, and the orange pill bottle you were meant to deliver to him without sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, and he grunts while he moves to stand, “it won’t.” 

And only when his heavy footsteps fade down the dark hallway of the abandoned building on the outskirts of the QZ, leaving you alone to stare back at the pale, rotten wallpaper with a painful and pleading ache between your trembling legs, do you realize exactly why no one defies Joel fucking Miller.

[lupismaris]

Woke up to the beginnings of a goddamn head cold (my personal hell) thus begins the somewhat violent remedies to get this out of my system asap because we do not cope well

Remedies include

Netti pot at regular two hour intervals

Gargling salt water for sore throat

Garlic honey tea

Spicy garlic beef broth congee with eggs (nature's antibiotic and spice I will sweat it out so help me)

Sinex, DayQuil, NyQuil as needed

So much water and liquid IV

Occasional tequila shot to chase the garlic honey

[chunksworld]

Role Model

NewJeans Hanni x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: A sequel to Double Fantasy. Thank you Kaede for the beta read as always.

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“Never have I ever…..” Danielle looks around the room with suspense, tapping her palms on her thighs as if to mimic the sound of a drum roll. You make your way back to the circle and sit down with the rest of your friend group, another can of beer in hand as you impatiently wait for the blonde to speak,  “…..made out with someone here!” You almost spit out the beer you were about to take a swig of but managed to keep your composure. You catch Minji staring at you for a split second before looking away immediately. It’s great that you’re both intoxicated already because there’s no other explanation for how your cheeks flare up. Jeers and whistles follow Danielle’s remark and you can only be thankful that some of your friends do raise their hands up, particularly some of the couples sitting with the rest of the group.

It’s only been a month since you and Minji have made it official—a decision you two contemplated even after you already took her out on a date (and despite having plenty of sex during that time). Sure, hooking up is one thing but committing to a relationship would be a venture much riskier than anything you have ever done especially since you are both graduating in a few months. How would everyone react when they find out that the two people that hate each other with their guts are fucking each other like wild animals at every given opportunity? Well, you two got your answer much quicker than expected when her best friend who also happens to be her next door neighbor, Hanni, caught you leaving Minji’s place way past midnight as you usually do—and this wouldn’t be that big of an issue as you were just about to put your cap and mask back on but she already saw your face as you two opened your doors at the exact same time.

It took everything in her power not to scream in shock as everyone else was already asleep at the time which is something you’ve always thought to be the case. It didn’t take her that long to put two and two together and everything was a blur and you soon found yourself sitting on Minji’s cum-stained bed having to be interrogated by an obviously flabbergasted Hanni Pham at 2:30 AM. Despite her modest stature, no one else looked as intimidating (and cute) as her in her pajamas. At least the scent of sex was quickly taken care of but she couldn’t hide her disgust at the sight of your combined juices on her best friend’s bed. She quickly looked past it though because her burning questions were more important and you two had no choice but to come clean, explaining everything that’s transpired over these past few months. With every revelation, her jaw seemed to be dropping lower and lower to the ground. 

Everything was a bombshell revelation for her; the fact that you two were having sex right next door and that she didn’t hear any of it, the fact that you two pretended to despise each other. But what seemed to shock her the most was that you two are actually dating. It took her a while to process everything—and by “a while” I mean she sat there opposite you two in silence like you’ve just been told off by a very disappointed parent for thirty excruciating minutes (in some ways, Hanni was indeed sort of the parent of the friend group). Thankfully, she agreed to keep her mouth shut about everything and very sternly told you to wear protection in the future because she “doesn’t want to have to babysit yet” to which you obliged. It was peaceful again after that but you knew you had to be more careful in the future because the rest of her friends will absolutely not keep something like this a secret.

“Wanna leave this party already? Can’t wait to ride that thick cock.”

A text, and it’s from the woman sitting directly in front of you—your girlfriend. She didn’t even need to send the text because you could already see in your eyes how badly she wants you. She’s been eye-fucking you for the past hour and it’s absolutely making you hot and bothered. She might as well pounce you in front of everyone if she could. It’s a side effect of her being drunk and with how she’s constantly readjusting her shorts, it’s obvious that Minji wants this night to end with her getting fucked into her bed again. A request that you’ll gladly oblige since this game is already starting to bore you anyways.

“Sure.”

To avoid any suspicion, she leaves first after bidding farewell to everyone. Followed by you twenty minutes later after “accidentally” spilling beer all over yourself. It was a quick getaway like clockwork, having to excuse yourselves plenty of times already from group gatherings just to satisfy your intense libido. It’s a great thing that Danielle’s place is only a five minute drive from Minji’s dorm because you can’t wait to get out of your pants. You excitedly made your way up to her room, disguise and all. Knocking on the door, you expected her to pull you in by your neck and makeout with you but what greeted you was her and Hanni sitting on the bed instead. What the fuck? There was certainly tension in the atmosphere—and silence? This is peculiar; it’s always pandemonium whenever those two best friends hang out—whether it’s Minji teasing Hanni for butchering her Korean or Hanni begging her not to do anything stupid. “Oh, you’re finally here.” Speaking of which, your girlfriend walks over to you and grabs you by your hand.

“Remember when I told you that we have an open relationship?”

Right. 

When you two were establishing the ground rules for your relationship, she made it clear that you were free to see other people. It definitely surprised you as you didn’t think Minji was that type of woman. But then again, you didn’t think she would be so willing to get dicked down by the person she hated the most and yet here you are. Of course you complied with her request. It’s the 21st century after all, so who cares about traditional dating norms? Plus, it’s not like she doesn’t have friends that you’d just like to get to know better and the freedom she gives is a welcome one. But that also meant she’s free to fuck around with other guys, something that bothered you for a while but eventually came to terms with. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Hanni wants you for the night. Sorry I couldn’t tell you through text earlier, didn’t wanna be rude or anything.” How can she be so casual about the entire thing? Especially when this is actually the first time the rule is being put to use. And for it to happen so early into your time together astounds you. Has she been dying to share you with her friends even when you were just casual fuckbuddies? Perhaps, but that’s a question you’ll continue to ask for another day. “You’re not actually about to turn her down are you? Don’t even lie and tell me that you haven’t thought about fucking her.” She’s not exactly wrong and as if she reads your mind, “She’s not a virgin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Minji! I-I don’t want to force him. I just had a crappy first-time with my ex and you always talk about how good he is…..” Hanni’s face turns a darker shade of red with every word spoken and you would’ve almost called her “cute” if it wasn’t for the circumstance. Minji was right, she tends to babble whenever she’s nervous. “If he’s not okay with it I can just—“

“I accept.” You would have to be insane to refuse such an offer. It’s Hanni Pham out of all people. She probably has just as many admirers, maybe even more than Minji. To say that you haven’t let your thoughts run wild whenever she wears an outfit that exposes all of her prominent features would be a big lie. Just like the outfit she’s got on now; a white crop top and shorts, with the varsity jacket the only thing preventing her from exposing more skin. Fuck, she looks so tempting. You really have to get out of your pants sooner or later because the way Minji riled you up earlier isn’t calming your senses anytime soon.“Is there anything specific you want me to do? I’m pretty sure Minji’s already told you how wild we can be.”

“I want you to teach me how to have sex—well, I want you to teach me how to have sex. Properly.” There’s a glimmer of desperation and want in her eyes, her eyes telling you what she can not say directly. Hanni is, and forever will be, your girlfriend’s best friend. But with how tonight is shaping up to be, you might just want to keep coming back for more. “Let’s just take it slow, if that’s fine with you.”

“Don’t worry! He’ll take care of you, right?” Of course. You’ll have to ease her into your world—into you and Minji’s world. Your girlfriend always loved to lead the way every time you fucked her but a change in dynamic with Hanni’s got you even more riled up than you already are. Minji wraps an arm around your shoulder and the way she casually hands you off to her best friend as if you’re a puppy is extremely astounding. When she mentioned that she wants to keep things open between you two, you didn’t think it would include you taking on the task of teaching her friends such a sinful and dangerous act. But it’s not like you’re complaining, one glance over to the short but petite woman in front of you is enough to make you salivate. She takes your silence as an affirmative and is already dragging you two out of her room. “Great! I already placed a condom in your backpocket.” You immediately reach for the back of your pants and sure enough, the aluminum-wrapped piece of contraption is there.

“Have fun! And try not to make too much noise please, I’ve got an exam tomorrow I need to study for okay? Love you both!” A flying kiss is sent to your direction before slamming the door in your face. And despite the confidence you exceeded just mere minutes before, now you find yourself on your backfoot. It’s suffocating, it’s tense, and you don’t know whether you want to just drag her to her room and pin her against the wall or if you want to show some restraint like she told you to. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really known how to take it slow: in life and in bed. Everything is rushed, as if there’s a billion things that need to be done. Maybe things can change for one night only. But Hanni is already one-step ahead of you, gently dragging you by your sleeve towards her room. Her room smells nice, lights turned way down low to a dark shade of red, and her sheets folded up nicely. She notices you scanning her room and before you could get the chance to tease her about being so prepared you find yourself crashing on her bed with her on top.

Excitedly, you lean close to her face to capture her lips but a hand pushes you gently away from her. “S-Sorry, no kissing.” As if to not deflate your ego she quickly interjects, “But you can leave hickeys if you want instead.” That sounds good enough for you, kissing her would bring a whole host of new feelings that you definitely don’t want to explore any time soon so you opt for her irresistible neck instead. She strips away her varsity jacket, leaving her in just her crop top and shorts that are starting to feel warmer by the second. This exposes more skin for you to taste and you dive lower down to her clavicles and collarbones, making sure to leave red marks. Her hands aren’t idle, creeping slowly underneath your shirt as soft moans start to come out of her lips. You eventually take over, flipping your positions so that you’re now on top of her. You find both of her hands and intertwine them with yours, pushing them above her head as you devour her body and leave as much of it red as possible.

“I want to see more of you.” Hanni finally says something after a few minutes and you obey her commands. Your beer-soaked shirt comes off first and joins her varsity jacket on the carpeted floor, Hanni’s eyes immediately darting towards the expanse of your upper body and her wandering hands drag themselves towards your shoulders then down your chest. She’s eyeing you like a piece of meat to devour the same way you are doing to her. You don’t give her much time to ogle however as your lips find their way to her neck once again. Even biting her lips does very little to muffle her moans as you continue to leave mark after mark on her collarbones, drinking in the way she calls for you, yearns for you. A hand makes its way down to her toned tummy and you almost apologize with the way she hisses, “C-Cold….” She mutters, eyes closing and tongue sticking ever so slightly out. You really, desperately want to have a taste of her lips at this very moment and to have them slotted against yours but rules are rules. Even though the way they glisten under the warm, red lights of her room makes it extremely tempting to do so. You distract yourself, you have to. One hand is already fumbling with the straps of her undershirt while the other makes its way further down to her thighs, massaging and appreciating their softness and fullness. The motion causes her to jerk and slightly arch her back off of the bed and you immediately take a step back. Shit, were you being too hasty?

“Sorry, tell me if I’m moving too fast for your liking.” 

You take deep breaths when you pull away as you desperately try to keep your hormones in check and be a gentleman for once but still eyeing her almost naked body in front of you. Hanni shakes her head and wraps her arms around your neck to bring you closer to her again, burying your face on the crook of her neck as you inhale her floral scent. “It’s fine. It’s just—it’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve had a guy touch me down there. Her nails slowly drag their way down your back as you place soft pecks on her neck. “You can touch me wherever you want, I’m yours for tonight.” You hate the way a guttural groan escapes out of your mouth, having been given the green light to completely let loose. You don’t wait this time, yanking her undershirt to reveal a pair of soft and round breasts, perfect for her body size. The absence of a bra surprises you but it’s a welcome one at that. Meanwhile, you work on expertly unbuttoning her denim shorts and they’re thrown off somewhere in the room with hunger and you don’t miss the wet patch already forming on her panties. Interestingly, she doesn’t close her thighs out of embarrassment. In fact, there’s a smile. As if she knows she’s got you right where she wants you.

“Fuck, Hanni. I’m gonna treat you so good tonight. That I can assure you.” You carefully place a pillow behind her, instructing her to sit by the headboard as you remove the final obstruction. It’s at this moment that it truly hits you that Hanni Pham is in front of you, completely naked. Forget winning the lottery, the fact that your girlfriend is allowing you to fuck her friends is a price worth more than anything on this planet. For all the times you imagined how she’d look underneath her clothes, it still doesn’t beat the sight of the actual thing. The way she is curvy and thick at the same time in the most perfect combination possible; she may only be nineteen but she’s certainly grown into a full-fledged woman—one that’s made all of the guys crazy for her. You don’t even hesitate to spread her legs wide, her thighs already soaked when you make your way up to drink in as much of her essence as you possibly can. She’s already quivering under your touch but your strong arms keep her in her place as you continue to taste as much of Hanni Pham. But nothing compares when you finally stick your tongue out and take an experimental lick of her folds, a finger expertly playing with her clit to increase her pleasure.

Hanni is biting her lips so hard that you’re sure it’s bleeding already. You would’ve told her that it’s okay to moan freely because she’s not that loud to begin with but when you start to lick more hungrily and aggressively, plans quickly change. She grabs a pillow to cover her face and stifle her moans, and it’s fortunate that she did so because the sound she makes when you finally stick your tongue inside of her is loud enough for Minji to definitely hear. Knowing her, she will be proud of how well you are eating Hanni out like it’s your last meal. It’s truly heaven right now though, the way she tastes, the way she sounds, and the way her thighs are about to crush your head that you can’t help but reach down to your sweatpants and boxers and pull them down just enough to reveal your aching cock, slowly stroking yourself as precum slowly drips out onto her bed. But tonight is about her and you want to make sure that you’re doing a great job so you don’t even care that your face is drenched with her essence already. You begin to alternate between your finger and tongue, an act that causes her to take exasperated breaths and silent moans as her mouth opens wide. “Cum for me, Pham. I wanna hear you.”

It’s clear that she loves being told what to do because at your command, she starts getting tighter and tighter around your fingers and tongue—her pussy throbbing wildly. So much so that she’s writhing and clinging to the sheets so hard they’re surely going to be ripped off the bed soon. “Hmph! C-Cumming!” It’s all you hear from underneath her pillows when she grabs your hair by the fistful and pushes you closer into her, allowing you to drive your fingers deeper inside her. Thirty seconds. That is all it took for her to come completely undone, arching her sweaty body completely off of her bed and to moan your name shamelessly out loud. Now, you’re really hoping that everyone else is deep asleep because that wasn’t silent at all. Not that you’re going to complain, if everyone wants to know how good the popular girl on campus is being treated, let them. Your face is even more drenched at this point and you are just lapping up every single drop of her juices as she recovers from her mindblowing orgasm. You pull away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand then proceed to lay down beside her. There’s a few fleeting minutes of silence and you’re more than happy to stop here for the night if it’s already too much for her but clearly Hanni is not done yet (which is honestly a great thing for you because you don’t want all of your cum to end up on the shower tiles instead).

Just like what you did to her, she instructs you to sit by the headboard as she crawls her way towards you like a cat. “I wanna return the favor.” It’s no surprise that you are already leaking with precum, your cock swollen and throbbing the minute Hanni pulls your sweatpants and boxers together down. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex with Minji due to how busy you are and you could really use some relieving of tension down there. An audible gasp can be heard from her at the sight of your length, probably wondering how it manages to fit inside her best friend—your girlfriend. She grabs a hair tie off her wrist to turn her hair into a ponytail then uses a finger to swipe at the precum continuing to drip out of your cockhead. You don’t know if she’s teasing you but that look of satisfaction on her face as she brings that finger inside her mouth like she’s eating ice cream is downright erotic. “Need that mouth on my cock, Hanni. Please.” You may be the one in charge but she’s got you wrapped around her fingers much like Minji does at this very moment. Once done with her “snack”, she forms a fist around your cock, beginning to pump you at a leisurely pace and now you’re the one closing your eyes and groaning her name

Hanni scans your expressions to find the perfect pace and soon, she’s fondling your balls as well. Are you sure she doesn’t know how to have proper sex? Because the heavenly touch of her fingers and the way she’s cupping your heavy balls suggests that she wants you to explode all over her face even though you want to save it somewhere else. Now she’s dictating the pace and before you can tell her to slow it down a little, lowers her head down to your cock and slowly but surely behind to take you inside her mouth inch by inch. It looks like if there's one thing her ex taught her, it’s how to give a blowjob because her gag reflex is essentially nonexistent as she takes you all the way to the back of her throat. The feeling is electrifying and numbing both at once; her mouth is nice and warm and cozy—a toe-curling experience that can only be described as fucking amazing. 

“Your mouth takes cock so well, shit.” She hums with your cock still inside her mouth, forming a vacuum to increase your pleasure and another groan of her name leaves your mouth. You really want to facefuck her now and have her mouth overflowing with cum, the imagery causing you to throb continuously inside her and you will have to regretfully pull her away from you soon before it gets messy. It only takes a while before a burst of precum inside her is what finally leads you to leave the confines of her mouth before it’s all too late. As much as those lips of hers look great glazed with a load of yours, she deserves better. One last kiss of your tip before she gets up on her knees and you’re noticing her thighs glistening much more than before. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I’ll ask for your services.” That you have to agree with, though you find it interesting how she’s making it sound like you are her male escort. Again, not that you’re complaining. “Now, fuck me will you?”

You quickly search your sweatpants for the condom, hurriedly ripping the packaging and placing it on your drenched cock before walking back to the edge of the bed where Hanni is sitting. “Right, so how do you want me?” You stand proudly in front of her, your cock clearly showing where it wants to be: inside her. While she contemplates, you stroke your cock back to hardness which wasn’t difficult considering her naked sight in front of you. She doesn’t say anything else but instead makes you sit on the edge of the bed like her. She then walks over to straddle your lap, and you don’t even have the opportunity to ask her what she’s planning when her tight heat is already sinking down on your cock. That action is enough for her to drop her head onto your shoulder as she tries to get acclimated to the size and feeling of your cock inside her. “Fucking hell, are you sure you’re not a virgin?” It wouldn’t be surprising if she lied to you all this time because not even eating her out and fingering her is enough to loosen her up—or maybe you’re just too big for her small and petite body. Either way, you needed some time to recover as well. Think about something else because the way she’s grinding her hips on your cock is downright heavenly. It’s only fortunate that there’s a thin layer of rubber in between you two in case your orgasm comes without any warning because she’s clearly an expert at this too. Do you even need to teach her anything, really?

“Y-You’re bigger than my ex! Didn’t think—fuck—didn’t think dicks can get this large.” They do, especially when it’s her that’s being fucked but you’re so lost into your own pleasures that you forget to respond. You’re not one to accept and respond to compliments well, especially when a beautiful woman is bouncing on your cock and using you as her personal dildo so you keep your mouth shut. Despite your size, Hanni eventually does get used to it because she’s slowly transitioning from grinding into bouncing when she holds on to your shoulders for support. And you can’t help but stare at the way her tits jiggle mesmerizingly in rhythm every time she comes down hard on your cock. Since she’s already given you a green light to have your way on her body, you lean down to capture her left nipple on your mouth while fondling the other. That action causes her to clench tighter around your cock and it only encourages you to suck on her tits harder, tongue swirling around her nipple. You repeat this motion with her right nipple to make sure it receives the attention it deserves. You just can’t get enough of her because even when you’re done with her breasts you’re placing kisses and licking her everywhere, each acreage of porcelain skin is marked by your kisses and you’re going to make sure that she has a hard time covering it up tomorrow.

You didn’t know when exactly it happened but your thrusts now elicit a strong reaction from her, nails taking down your back and leaving scratches that will surely sting once you get in the shower later but you must’ve hit a spot that not even her ex or her dildos could reach because she’s downright screaming and having to bury herself on your neck to lower down the volume. Quickly taking advantage of this, you start thrusting upwards in response to her bounces and she’s basically cursing and moaning your name by this point as her sweaty body clings on to you. 

“Tell me if you’re gonna cum, Hanni. I’ll make sure to give you the best one you ever had.” A whisper to her contrasting loud moans as you leave kisses on the side of her head and eventually, her forehead. No verbal response but you can feel her nod against your shoulders and that’s when you knew it was time to bring it home. You wrap your arms around her waist tightly and try to hit that spot again and again. Cries of pleasure reverberates around her tiny room and she’s shivering against you as her orgasm overtakes her again. A much stronger orgasm that has her pussy squeezing tightly around your cock but you manage to hold on despite dying to cum inside her.

You hold on to her arms to prevent her from falling backwards, patting her back gently and fixing any disheveled hair caused by the mess. “D-Did you cum, too?” A shameful ‘no’ leaves your lips and you’re scared that she’ll think that she’s not a good fuck, that you were just forcing everything you were doing for the past thirty minutes when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Hanni pulls away from her neck to look at you in surprise, then it hits her. “You want to cum in my pussy, don’t you? Fine, I’ll just take a morning pill.” You’re glad Minji briefed her already, because the one place you don’t want your cum to end up in is a twenty dollar condom. If it was quick for you to put the condom on then it’s even quicker to take it off as you briefly get her off of you. Her slick has caused it to shrink around your cock but it doesn’t matter as you snap it off and throw it in the trash. Pull her down to your lap again, this time it is easy to sink her back down to your cock and you quickly get to fucking.

The lack of latex makes for an extreme sensation that has you moaning and groaning as you fuck her for the second time. But that’s not enough as you lift both of you from her bed and carry her in your arms, causing her to tightly wrap your limbs around you as gravity aids you in fucking her. It’s the perfect position because you get two handfuls of her ass while she bounces on your cock and because she’s somehow louder than before as you are basically splitting her in half. Every single thrust drives your tip into her cervix and you’re sure she’s seeing stars by the way she’s clinging on to you for dear life as you fold her up like a lawn chair in this position. It’s so easy to manhandle her, the way her light body just bends to your will and you’ll definitely give her a much bigger load now that you are fucking her raw. The loud slaps of skin fill the room as you continue to fuck up into her, not even waiting for her to come down before you thrust again. There’s no way you’re absolutely lasting longer than ten minutes this time because of how you prevented yourself from cumming twice already so you end up jackhammering into her, the tension in your balls increasing by the second as you are ready to unload. 

“Cum in me!“ is all you hear before the overwhelming sensation and tension finally snaps, the first rope of hot cum causes a smaller, second orgasm from Hanni. It’s fucking euphoric and blissful, the way each rope takes away all of your frustrations—filling every single space inside her womb, the way it coats your cock and drips back down to your balls and to her floor with how much you came inside her, the way it completely takes over your body, causing you to fall back down to her bed and bring her with you. “Cum for me again, can you do that for me?” A faint voice from Hanni as she gyrates her hips to match your thrusts. It’s not like you were planning on doing anything different. You can’t stop, won’t stop pumping into her despite both of you being oversensitive and sure enough, you find yourself unloading inside her for a second time five minutes later as if you didn’t already cum inside her. This fresh load replaces the previous one and soon, her sheets are soiled with cum as well. You haven’t cum this hard and this much in a while, the prospect of fucking your girlfriend’s best friend making you hornier than you have been before and it’s showing.

It’s a sticky mess once everything finally settles down, with her finding it difficult to get off of you with how much semen you’ve unloaded inside her that she’s definitely going to need that morning pill. A mess between her thighs is what you have to show for it once she does and you’re absolutely spent when she lays down beside you. “Fuck, that was hot.” Surprisingly, she still has the strength to get off her bed and collect both of your clothes while also cleaning herself up in the process. Right. This is not Minji’s room and it would be even more scandalous if other people find out you just had sex with your girlfriend’s best friend. She quickly throws you your clothes and you work on putting them back on. “You’re as good as advertised, I’ll definitely recommend you to Danielle.” Danielle? Her varsity jacket and shorts are worn in a hurry, along with her crop top and bra. “She hasn’t had good dick in a while, you see.” She grabs your phone and makes you unlock it, tapping furiously at the screen for a few seconds before handing it back to you. “I just saved her number so you won’t get spooked when she messages you for her dick appointment. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my mouth shut about you and Minji.” It’s a great thing that you’re already fully clothed because she’s dragging you by your arms and out of her dorm. “Ok, see you! I’ll keep in touch with you again.” You don’t dare to ask any questions at this point so you decide to walk back to Minji’s room again. 

“Wait!” But she stops you on your tracks, this time that shy and nervous expression making its appearance on her face once more. “And uh, I forgot something.” She grabs your phone again and taps on the screen furiously like she did earlier, and as you were about to take it back from her she grabs you forcefully and places a kiss on your lips.

Smooch.

“I also added my number. Maybe I’ll ask Minji if we can share you in more ways than one.” Then a wink, then you feel a gust of wind hitting your face after she closes the door.

What the fuck?