#does that sound familiar to yall

[carmelide]

blue eye samurai kinda like mamma mia if you think about it actually

[ashbur]

sincerely and genuinely you guys are just Saying Stuff 😭😭

[httpsvgin]

ᯓ “IN YOUR WILDEST

DREAMS.” ۶ৎ

“he’s so tall, and handsome as hell, he’s so bad, but he does it so well.” (TAYLOR SWIFT.)

BY @MZLLSIT!!! ᥫ᭡

PAIRING. hwang in-ho & fem!reader.

FANDOM. squid game (seasontwo.) ꪆৎ

T!W. shameless smut. porn with plot. angst. blowjobs. slight age difference. gagging. rough oral sex. violence. blood. slight manipulative in-ho?? (not as bad as it sounds.)

GENRE. smut, slight fluff?

“PART TWO OF ‘SAID YOU’RE A WILD

MUSTANG’ AS REQUESTED!!!!

(I SUGGEST READING ^ FIRST AS THE PLOT WOULD MATCH UP EASIER FOR YOU!!!

SUMMARY. ᝰ.ᐟ the day following yours and in-ho’s small.. ‘interaction’ left you feeling hopeless as you found that he had been avoiding you since the second he left you vulnerable in that bathroom. a million questions spiralled in your head to what possibly could be the reason he was acting so stubborn and hell, did you want your answers. taking matter into your own hands, you cornered in-ho into giving you the answers you want and deserve.. until you found yourself in a rather.. sticky situation?

!!!!AUTHORS NOTE!!!!! . . . in this fanfic i twisted up the story a smudge and basically removed the whole last scene of the rebellion and replaced it with the aftermath of the night games and the players making their way up toward their 4th game just so this story would kinda like make sense bruh??? and on another note the comments left on my last post were so supportive istg my ego is through the roof yall i love it. also, im thinking of writing a story with the love interest being sangwoo cuz hes been my man since day one guys. lmk who u want to see me write about next and thank you so much for all your support!!!!!!!! ᥫ᭡

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the hours following after the blood bath that erupted amongst the players felt as though they could last a million lifetimes. you watched as the pink covered guards entered the room with those obnoxious boxes, plush and dark with a taunting pink bow on the top just to add another “fuck you” to the players about their power while they scrooped up the bodies of the dead.

blood seemed to be on every surface your eyes could catch, the floor, walls, even the beds as you watched a guard carry a limp body of a woman who’s stomach was mutilated and open for all to see, her eyes fluttered shut to show she probably was attacked in her sleep. you couldn’t help but feel bile rise in the back of your throat at the scene, swallowing the acid back down to your stomach with a trembling lip. how can anyone be so fucking inhumane?

yet while you fought away your vomit, your eyes pinned onto a familiar body who was being carried into a box. nam-yu’s wide, dead eyes felt as though they were following your live ones as they lowered him into the box. instantly your mind snapped to the memory of in-ho puncturing the metal pole in through his heart and feeling his warm, crimson blood drip along down your face before his body collapsed ontop of you. this time, your final view of the man who tried to end your life was left with a hole through his body and his head tilted up to stare at the ceiling as they slid the lid of the box over his body.

and yet the man who saved your life seemed to have removed himself from it completely as he sat in the same corner with gi-hun, jung-bae and the rest of their alliance, his eyes staring at the ground with what looked like guilt but with feeling your eyes on him, he tilted his own to look back at you for a short moment which made your heart rattled against your chest before his attention was quickly yanked away as jung-bae opened his mouth to talk.

so here you sat across the room, feeling like a crumb that was kicked under the carpet, longed to be forgot about. not even an hour ago he was staring up at you from between your legs like you were a prized antique, fragile and precious and made to be cherished. now here he is, running a firm hand through his messy hair, not daring to look in your direction. how man like of him.

biting the flesh from under your finger nails you sat a few bunk beds away from your group while the x’s stayed firm in their side of the room but this time each of the sides were down by far more numbers and looked slightly more frightened than ever before.

“hey. .” a soft voice came and dragged you out of your thoughts as you turned your head at the sound of your name. player 120 looked down at you softly, hands tightly at her side to try not to spook you. “my god, i thought you were dead.” she whispered a little breathlessly as she smiled a sweet smile she knew you needed yet you could tell she was more than thrilled to see your face alive and well.

cho-hyun ji her name was, she was someone you stuck along side with during all of the games you played. she and her group recruited you to be theirs during the second game where you shocked your group with your skill of spinning top. to be honest, despite your angered shape it was more than soothing to see such a kind and comforting face after everything.

“come, sit with us.” slowly and carefully she brought her hand up to settle on your shoulder yet not firmly enough to scare you or pressure you.

your eyes were brought to the group who you found to be staring back at you with a smile, player 222, she held her large belly with one hand yet her other tapped the spot next to her, signalling you to sit. gi-hun, the leader you supposed also offered a kind smile toward your way where as in-ho’s dark eyes stared in way you couldn’t quiet put your tongue on. lust? anger? guilt? who knows, instead you took hyun-ji’s hand and followed her over to the rest of the group and ignored the fiery feeling in your stomach.

“ah-haha! there she is!” jung-bae called out from his seat on the stairs and before you could even respond he pulled you into a tight, suffocating embrace, his plump arms patting your back while he chuckled. “we thought we lost you for a second there!” you laughed kindly at the groups relief of seeing your face again and as jung-bae released his bear grip on you, from over his shoulder you caught eyes with in-ho, a strand of his dark hair fell over his eyes which looked like they darkened in colour at the view of you two, and fuck, did it make your stomach sink.

after your small reunion with the group you finally took your seat inbetween player 222 and gi-hun, who affirmed your nervousness with a warm smile yet you could see the pain from behind his eyes as he quickly returned his attention back toward the conversation jung-bae and his marine friend were bantering about. you guessed they were probably trying to make the best out of a bad situation judging by how deflated and scared most of you seemed.

your mind blurred with whatever conversation was happening amongst your friends and instead your eyes pinned to stare at the pink, square guards that stood at the metal double doors, then stared to in-ho, then back to the guards. what correlation did this man have with them? because hell, theres no way they would’ve opened that door even if you pleaded with your whole life and still they allowed him with you at his side to slide away from death and into heavens gates? it made no sense to you at all. and why was it so easy for him to act as though nothing between you had even happened not even a few hours ago when it was eating you up from the inside not to scream in his face.

maybe im overreacting? you thought. anyone in this room is just as desperate for sex, he probably saw you in that bathroom as a stress reliever, a one ‘night’ stand that he could easily slip away from with no feelings attached? sure, it made sense, but nor did it stop the way you felt towards him and it definitely did not make sense on how easily those guards let him live. this man has power, and nobody else knows about it.

and you were going to find out what is was, even if it costs you your life.

. . . .

“attention all players, the next game will commence shortly. please make your way toward the game hall!” the ai voice called from the several speakers around the room to which everyone began to shakily rise from their spots, making their way to the now opened doors.

“any idea on what the next games could be?” you heard jung-bae ask gi-hun, to which gi-hu replied with a tight shrug, assuring that the games have changed since the last time he played and that it was completely out of his power. gi-hun was kind and definitely did not deserve all that was racking on his shoulders, besides, he was a good man with a good heart.

you stuck behind the crowd, following tightly behind hyun-ji while the rest of your group walked through the doors to where the bright colours of the spiralled hallways illuminated and burnt your eyes. in-ho followed closely behind you, alone, and you could practically feel the way his eyes burnt holes at the back of your head. this was your opportunity.

hyun-ji chatted alongside player 246, making their way hastily up the stairs while you shortened your steps, slowing your legs down down and listening quietly to in-ho behind, who’s steps were beginning to match your pace.

waiting until you were out of sight, you twisted your head around to face in-ho behind you before using all your strength to pull and yank him up against the wall, anger lacing your eyes. even though you were at an advantage, his height still towered over you, like he could swallow you whole as he stared down at you, grinning. you felt vulnerable at how beautiful he looked pinned against a wall, keeping his eyes calm and settled on you, hair messy and scattered along his relaxed features.

“mm, little girl finally found her strength, yeah?” his tone was glazed sweetly like honey with a hint of sarcasm laced on his tongue as he took the view of you, knitted eyebrows, hair pulled back into a loose bun as you panted harshly with your hand tight against his chest, trying to keep him still.

“youve been avoiding me.” your chest heaved, staring into his souls with attempted anger yet a slight glisten of lust shimmer behind your eyes. the way you had him pinned reminded you of how he had you in that bathroom, pretty face buried between your legs and eating you out like a man starved of thirst. it sent your thighs to clench just at the thought.

“i have reasons.” his tongue poked on the inside of his cheek, the nerves in his jaw clenched for a moment yet he never broke eye contact or even tried to move out of your grip.

“oh yeah? what reasons, cause i sure as hell know theres something up with you.” you gripped his shirt harder under your shaking hands, yanking his shirt forward in attempt to gain your dominance. he laughed. right in your fucking face, soft and innocent but fuck did it damage your ego.

“reasons that don’t concern you, sweetheart.” the nickname rolled on his tongue in a way that sent butterflies to spiral in the pit of your stomach and your cheeks to flush in a soft pink colour. “now, are we going to do this the nice way, or my way.”

now it was your turn to laugh, cocking an eyebrow and yanking his shirt tighter toward you so his face was inches from yours. “you don’t fucking scare me, in-ho.” you spat, face now laced with seriousness as you stood you firm ground.

“well, so be it.” he shrugged firmly before his hand wrenched around your wrist and yanking it behind your back in a split second. crying out in pain, he shoved your back against him to where your ass pressed firmly against his front while his other hand wrapped around your mouth to muffle your yells. your free arm clawed and slapped against the arm that quietened you yet his strength overpowered yours so easily.

“why’d you have to be so difficult, hm?” his lips were so close to your ear lobe that his hot breath ticked against the plush of your neck.

“fuck you..” you whispered out from a shaky breath, feeling embarrassed at how quickly the tables turned in just a few seconds. then, he chuckled again, but instead this one came out darker.

“as you wish.” he whispered into the crook of your neck before grabbing both your wrists with one hand and used his other to yank the door handle behind him that his back pressed against, shoving you both inside.

the first thing that caught your eye was the long walk way and how nearly every material of the room was covered in gold decor, walls covered in black paint with shelves of whiskey and liquor that probably dated back to centuries ago sat behind a glass case while in the centre sat a large tv half the size of the room. on the screen played footage of the players still walking up the stairs to the game, in front sat a plush, leather couch with a side table that had a half drank glass of bourbon ontop. next to that sat a mask, yet it was different from the one the guards wore and it made your skin tingle.

yet your wondering eyes were stopped in their tracks as in-ho pressed himself tighter against your lower back before leading you forward through the walkway, his breathe tickling softly against your skin.

“you’re shaking.” he spoke against your pulse point in your neck, still pining your wrist behind you as he walked you like a fucking dog toward the plush sofa to where he brought you round to the front. slowly, his long fingers trailed up your body, not once letting his lips leave your skin as he practically inhaled your scent. eventually they landed on your clothed shoulder before he pressed down on it for you to lower yourself down on your knees.

fuck. you tried to swallow the lump that grew in your throat as you sat on your knees in front of him, watching as he man spread out before you, arms resting behind him while he stared down at you with that same fucking smirk that made you clench your legs.

“who are you working fo—“ the words muffled your throat before you were shoved face first into his crotch, feeling his hard erection through the material of his joggers. he rubbed your cheek against the bulge in his trousers and you swore you heard a small, whiny hum from his lips.

“shh.. why don’t you use that pretty mouth of yours for a greater good, hm?” his large palm petted the back of your head, stroking you like you were a soft animal as you swallowed the gathering saliva that gathered anxiously in your mouth. “do me well and ill answer any questions you have for me, sweetheart. deal?”

you nodded your chin up and down as you slowly edged your finger to the waist band of his tracksuit bottoms, pulling them slowly with shaking fingers. feeling your trembling touch, in-ho brought a warm palm to your cheek, thumb running comfortingly over the scar left under your eye as his eyes glistened beautifully under the gold lighting. and shit, you swore you get sticky just at his touch.

“mhm, just like that.” he coed down at you quietly, treating you as precious that if he spoke to loud you would shatter like a piece of glass. being validated by him was a drug you never knew you needed, and hell, were you addicted. cautiously, you began pulling at his clothes again until they were down to his thighs, leaving him in a pair of calvin kline boxer briefs. hot and ironic, judging his rich scent you werent exactly surprised to see them with his large bulge staring back at you.

for a moment, you looked up at him to where he was already staring back down at you, palm still cupping your cheek as he gave a gentle nod of approval before your finger tips brushed at the elastic top of his pants as softly yanking them down. fuck.

his size practically made your mouth gape open slightly, your wide eyes taking in the mouthwatering sight. a baby pink tip beaded and glistened with pre-cum while a pretty vein ran along the side of his cock, starting from his base and traveling the full way to the tip. you gulped at his girth, fantasising at how perfectly he could satisfyingly fill you up against this fucking couch.

“please.” he mumbled, sounding breathless already and slightly needy as he took one hand to gather your soft hair into a ponytail before shoving your head down harshly on his cock, forcing his tip to stab against the back of your throat which made your eyes fill with tears as you choked.

bobbing your head up and down, your lips wrapped around his large girth perfectly while your palms sat firm on either side of his thighs for support. the sounds leaving his mouth were like they were sent from heaven, breathless and desperate, almost enough to make you cum there and then. his fingers interlinked with the roots on your hair, tugging on the strands.

bringing yourself up from his cock, you admired the way it glistened with your saliva as you caught your breath. for a moment, you looked up to capture the view of this man, his head tilted back as his adams apple bobbed in his throat while his eyes wrenched shut. he was fucking beautiful and vulnerable while you sat in between his legs, it made you want to suck him dry until he cried out your name to stop.

gently, you leaned you head back down to his tip, using your tongue to kitten lick around the base to taste the sweetness of his pre-cum. this caused in-ho to grip at your hair painfully, letting out a deep groan at the way you teased his sensitive tip.

“who do you work for?” you whispered against his length and you swore you felt it twitch between your hand as you used one to work at the base of his cock while your tongue remained along his tip, licking long stripes.

“i dont work for nobody.” he grumbled from the couch, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his chest heaving slightly at how beautifully you worked and treated him. “what makes you think i do, hm?”

“during the night those guards just—“ you gripped on the meat of his thigh as he shoved your mouth back down on his cock, making you gag out loudly against him which sent shivers down his spine at the vibration. tears battled behind your eyes at the burning that began to ride in the back of your throat yet his cock continued to thrust harsher and deeper between your lips.

you couldn’t even breathe against him, yet he couldn’t give less of a shit as he continued to shove his dick balls deep in your snappy mouth that got you in this position in the first place. sucking and gagging along his cock felt euphoric for you, even leaving your panties wet with your slick yet you attempted to cross your legs at the uncomfortable, sticky feeling that grew in between them.

squeezing on his thighs, you felt hot tears stream from your cheeks while your mouth battled with the roughness of his thrusts as he fucked your mouth vigorously. soon enough, your knees bucked at the way he twitched in your mouth before his warm cum coated every surface of your mouth, filling you up completely.

“fuck..” he panted harshly, letting go of the grip of hair he held to look down at you with your mouth full of cum. your lips were puffy and pink while your cheeks stained with tears as you swallowed harshly, his taste leaving a sweet tingle on your tongue. then, he took your face in with hand hand, lifting your chin up to look at him as he squeezed both sides of your cheeks between his fingers.

“look at me when i talk to you.” he grunted down at you, fluttering your eyelashes to look at his face with your glossy eyes as you sniffled slightly. taking one hand, he wiped a drip of cum from the crease of your lips before tugging at your hair to open your mouth. sliding his thumb between your lips, you licked of the residue with the warmth of your tongue, then softly he removed it with a short pop.

“you’re a smart girl, yeah? but not smart enough to understand what danger you have put yourself in.” his tone was gentle, yet his words made your heart thump wildly against your chest. the fuck does that mean? you wanted to ask, yet you chewed on your tongue to not do so.

“i dont.. understand?” you almost choked on your words, eyebrows knotting into a thrown as you felt just as clueless as before, yet this time with a slight bit of your dignity stripped judging by the fact you had to suck off a potentially dangerous stranger because you were curious.. well, not just that. but still, he had your mind lopped in confusion thats for sure.

“i don’t expect you to, sweetheart.” he coed, twirling your soft hair between his finger tips while his other still remained on keeping your chin up at him. “but, please, understand this.”

slowly, he lowered his head down toward yours, brushing his thumb along the softness of your bottom lip. in-ho stopped to trace his lips along your ear lobe, nibbling at the soft skin before opening his mouth to whisper upon it. “if anyone even dares to hurt you, i promise ill chop off every single one of their fingers and serve them to you on a silver platter.” he chuckled against your neck, licking a nipping at the skin as he felt you tremble bellow him.

“with their head as dessert.” he growled in your ear, violence and threat slashed on his tongue while he used his spare arm to scoop you up from the plush carpet floor and into the warmth of his lap. “do you understand that?”

“yes.” your bottom lip trembled and eyes widened with the seriousness of his tone, and fuck did he mean every word of it. nor did you hesitate to believe him either, taking your hands to wrap around the back of his neck and rest your chin into the crook of his neck, inhaling the expensive scent he let off.

“thats my girl.”

[bitteriekitten]

you make me wanna blush.

synopsis — telling your lads boyfriends that you have a crush on them <3

warnings — just disgusting fluff i fear

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — this is my first fluffy work and it's reminding me how single i am irl 😀 also if u want to be tagged in my future works don't forget to send me an ask asap! anyway have fun reading and lmk what yall think!! love u lots <3

lili's navigation

After receiving a weirdly ominous text from you–we need to talk, ASAP–Xavier was relieved to notice the shy smile on your face. It didn’t seem that important after all, but his curiosity was already piqued. As he sat on the empty chair next to you, he smiled when you tucked in a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m here. What did you need to tell me?” he asked you.

You glanced at your boyfriend and immediately looked away, your face heating up. “I have something to tell you…” you muttered. 

Xavier waited for you to continue talking, scooting closer to you. He leaned closer to you and blinked curiously. 

“I… have a crush on you, Xavier.”

Xavier let out a laugh and grabbed your hand, kissing it firmly and then letting it rest against his cheek. “That’s what got you so worked up?” he teased, contradicting the quickening of his heartbeat. 

“Hey! Confessing to you like this takes hard work!” you protested and squished your boyfriend’s cheek in your hands. Xavier chuckled and kissed your palm, “Don’t worry, I have a crush on you too.”

Zayne could already tell that you were up to something from the way you were trying to stifle your grin. He sat across from you on the dining table, where you kept stealing glances at him. Zayne wiped the corner of his mouth for any crumbs and focused his attention onto you.

“Okay, what are you up to?” he asked directly. 

You grinned at your boyfriend, “I… have a huge crush on someone.” you replied.

Zayne raised an eyebrow at that; that was not what he was expecting. But he finally knew what you were up to. He then smiled, picking up an uneaten macaron from the box you bought for him earlier. “Is that so? Tell me who this person is.”

You giggled, glad that he was playing along. “Well, he’s a really good doctor at Akso Hospital… and he’s super smart…”

Zayne hummed, “He sounds familiar. Is he a colleague of mine?”

“Hmm, does a Dr. Zayne Li ring any bells?” 

Zayne chuckled and gestured for you to open your mouth, where he then gently placed the macaron into it. “That’s good to know, because I believe this Dr. Zayne Li has a crush on you too.” he said. You laughed at his reply, kissing his fingertips as you chew down on the macaron. 

Rafayel thought he’d gone deaf, “What did you just say?”

“I said, I have a crush on somebody.” you repeated, your smile growing wider. Rafayel frowned deeply; why would you have a crush on somebody else when he was right there? 

“You’re being ridiculous, cutie. I’m literally right here! Why would you have crushes when I’m right here?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated laugh. “I have a crush on you, dummy!” you said.

It takes Rafayel a while to register what you had just told him. By the time it sinks in, you were already bent over laughing at him. Rafayel whined, “Hey, this isn’t funny!” he protested, pulling you into his arms. You continued to giggle, “It’s a little funny–you got so worked up!”

Rafayel affectionately rolled his eyes at you, opting to place a thousand kisses over your face to shut you up instead. 

“Sylus.”

Sylus looked up from his phone with a hum. You walked into your shared bedroom in just his shirt, your face still wet from washing it. “What is it, sweetie?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to take. He pulled you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss to your head as you sat with your back to his chest. 

“I… have a crush.”

“Oh?” Sylus smirked, instantly getting what you were up to. You nodded, your face hilariously serious for such a tiny thing. “Yeah. I’ve had it since forever.” you replied in a hilariously serious tone.

“Is that so? On who?” he asked, playing along. You let out a breathless laugh as his large hands began massaging your back. “I’d like to know so I can… have a little chat with this person,” he added.

“Well, how are you going to have this little chat with yourself, then?” you asked, turning your head to face him. Sylus let out his signature expensive laugh and kissed your nose.

 “Alright, you’ve outsmarted me, kitten.” he said fondly.

Nothing can ever truly bypass Caleb, not even your harmless pranks. He could already see what you were up to from miles away, but he pretends to be oblivious about it anyway. 

“So, Caleb…” you said, grabbing his arm and letting it rest over your shoulder so you could be closer to him. Caleb welcomes this skinship, trying his best not to smile. “Yeah, Pipsqueak?” he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as if you were actually nervous. Caleb chuckles and slides his arm down to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“I… have a crush on somebody.”

Caleb scoffed, “Really now? Who is this lucky person?” 

You pretended to think about it, “Mmm, I don’t wanna tell you… you might know who he is.”

Caleb smirked, of course you wouldn’t tell him right away. “Aw shucks, I wanted to tell you who my crush is if you had told me yours.” he said with a faux pout. 

You immediately snap your attention to his words, trying to find out if he was messing with you or not, “You’re not being fair!” you whined. Caleb laughed at your reaction, hugging you with both of his arms around you this time. “Then just tell me who this mystery man is and I’ll tell you who my crush is!”

“It’s you, obviously!” you said, pouting up at Caleb. He cooed at your flustered face and kissed the apples of your cheeks. “That’s great to know, Pipsqueak, because I have a crush on you too.” he sighed, his lips against your flushed skin.

[angelickks]

I. damnation

REVENANT, au!remmick x reincarnated wife!reader

synopsis Vampirism is a curse of memory. Reincarnation is the curse of almost remembering. And so they dance, century after century: She returns with dreams she cannot explain. And he waits, starved and reverent and wrong. Never able to touch her without bleeding. Never able to stop following the scent of her soul. Because love—when cursed—does not fade. It rots slow. It burns gentle. It waits. And Remmick has nothing but time.

warning(s) nsfw. mdni 18+. prolific dreams. religious undertones. oral implied (f and m recieving). choking (implied). alcohol mentioned - reader is a bar owner. whole lots of sea imagery cuz well duh. yelling at annoying tourists. swearing. reader feeling lowk crazy. insomnia. slowburn asf. no use of y/n.

angel talks omgomgomg thank u guys for all the love u showed just my TEASER. holy fuck. ive been so fucking excited to share my first series w u guys, like truly. i have so much in store for u guys so i cant thank yall enough for all the love and support. i kindly ask u guys to read my authors note before starting, that will be greatly appreciated to give some clarifications about the story going forward. comment on either the teaser or my mlist post to be added on to my taglist if u guys enjoyed this first part n wanna stick around for the rest of it, ageless or untitled blogs will not be added.

#NAV.ᐟ revenant mlist, au!remmick x reincarnated wife!reader

"i know you, i've walked with you,

once upon a dream..."

DAMNATION. Total. Inescapable. The kind that seeps, not strikes.

The nights were always the worst. Not for the work, or the faces that blurred together behind the bar, or even the endless crash of waves chewing at the black rocks beyond your window.

No—that sound had become something else. A lullaby. Crooked and ancient. The kind of tune that clings to your bones like smoke. It didn’t soothe, not really. It hovered. Whispered.

Like a hymn sung just behind your ear, in a voice too old to be trusted.

No, what unsettled you came after the lights went out. Sleep had never come easy. It arrived fractured, vivid, like slipping into another version of wakefulness where your body remained behind but something else wandered freely. The doctors once called it “sleep paralysis,” scribbled it down like a footnote in your medical chart and moved on. But in the darker and bone-chillingly quiet cracks of your mind, you figured it to be a twisted sense of familiarity

It wasn’t paralysis—it was memory. Or something close enough to rot.

You saw him there, always. A figure stitched together from shadow and something too devout to be holy—reverence soaked into every movement, every word he spoke like it might sanctify or damn you in the same breath. Dreams of knives kissing skin in acts too gentle to be violence and too brutal to be love. Hands that held you like an offering. Eyes that glowed wrong, just enough to keep you from calling them human. They burned with a light that didn’t belong to this world, red and undeniably angry, but when they were on you, it was an entirely different story. Just wrong. Too steady. Too knowing.

And God, the teeth paired with those eyes, so sharp. Sharp enough to split bone from breath, sometimes white, sometimes not, but always too many.  One word had always lingered on the edge of your thoughts, even before you knew how to spell it—before you understood what it meant. Damnation.

Not just a curse. Not the flaming, shaking-fist-at-heaven kind they talked about in church pews and hymnals. This was something quieter. Older. Something that didn’t beg for repentance because it never offered redemption in the first place.

Damnation was not a place—it was a condition. A blood-deep certainty that you had been marked, chosen not for salvation, but for ruin. That your soul had been spoken for in a tongue older than any holy text. Signed and sealed in dreams that left your sheets tangled and your heart pounding like something had been chasing you through sleep and nearly caught you.

It wasn’t punishment for sin. It wasn’t justice. It was possession.

A slow, creeping inheritance of something unspeakable. It smelled like salt and coppery blood, like storm-drenched wood and old stone. It moved through you like instinct. You’d feel it in the pit of your stomach when the world went too quiet, in the corners of your eyes when shadows moved against the grain of the light. And in those dreams—those vivid, breathless, too-close dreams—you felt it fully. His touch like worship. His voice like rot dressed in silk. A liturgy of ruin sung only for you. He didn’t bring damnation. He was it. And somehow, impossibly, part of you was too.

You didn’t fear him. Not exactly. Despite the way his form shifted—familiar one night, monstrous the next—he was never made to be purely feared, or even truly frightening. There was something reverent in him, something patient. No, the fear didn’t lie in him.

It lived in the part of you that reached back. Or maybe not you, exactly—not the version you see brushing your teeth in the mirror, not the one who pays bills and walks the shoreline with salt-stung eyes. That version felt like a decoy, a performance of normalcy. The one in the dreams… she was older. Wiser. Willing. And somehow, terrifyingly, more true.

There were days when the boundary between the two began to blur, when waking up didn’t feel like waking, just moving from one version of consciousness to another. Days when your reflection seemed slightly off—as if your body remembered things your waking mind tried to forget. The dreams had lasted so long they no longer felt like dreams at all. More like bleed-through. A haunting with no clear source. And on the darker days, the ones where the sky felt too still and the silence too loud, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder: what if your dream-self isn’t separate? What if she’s always been you?

And what if he’s not just following you into your dreams— but waiting for you to remember what you really are?

That, in itself, was your damnation.

Not the holy kind. You weren’t raised on pews and psalms, didn’t bear the weight of stained glass judgment or whisper penance through trembling lips. You didn’t kneel beneath crucifixes with bruised knees and bloodied prayers like the wives in town—those women with salt-bitten hope clinging to their throats, who beg for husbands the sea refuses to return when it storms just right, cruel and alive. Though even that grief, in some crooked way, felt familiar to you too. Like you’d once known what it meant to wait on a shoreline for something that would never come back.

But no—this wasn’t religion. This wasn’t the devil in red or the wrath of any god written in someone else’s book. This was personal. This was knowing. A damnation etched into the marrow of your bones, whispered to you in dreams that smelled like brine and blood. It didn’t ask for belief—it didn’t need it. It knew you. This wasn’t a punishment handed down. 

It was a homecoming. 

But tonight, while the dreams always feel as real and vivid as your heart beating. This stirred differently, closer and too near on the horizon to be deep in the far depths of your mind. 

You dream of that same man with rough hands. They move over your skin with the certainty of someone who’s done it a thousand times—someone who’s bled for the right. His palms are wide and calloused, like he’s spent whole lifetimes carving out places for you in the dark. He doesn’t touch you like a stranger. He touches you like a man who built you up, broke you, buried you—and never stopped coming back.

You don't know his name. Never really have.

But in the dream, he says yours like it’s sacred. Like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to whatever soul he still has left. He kneels between your legs, jaw tight, eyes darker than sin. His mouth is hot against the inside of your knee—soft, reverent.  Your stomach pulls tight, breath catching in your throat.

“Mine,” he whispers into your skin. “Always been. Always will be.”

There’s a scar on his collarbone. Fresh, jagged. You don’t know how you know, but you gave it to him. A mark left in another life. One where you wore knives the way other women wore perfume.

You don’t know this man, no matter how familiar he is. But in the dream, you know how he sounds when he’s falling apart.

He mouths down your thigh, murmuring filth like prayer, eyes half-lidded like this is the end of the world and he’s choosing to spend it between your legs. You should be afraid, you think you were, once—but all you feel now is heat and grief.

His hands tighten on your hips. His tongue moves like he remembers every time you've ever broke, just like this.

“Still taste like sin,” he growls, mouth full of you. “Still so fuckin’ mean.”

You writhe beneath him. You don’t know why you're crying. You don’t know why it hurts.

There’s a weight to it. A mourning. This isn’t the first time.

This is never the first time.

“Don’t leave me again,” he says.

And it’s that line—that broken, gutted plea—that shatters the dream.

You wake gasping. Sheets twisted around you like chains. The room is cold but your body is slick with sweat, skin flushed and humming like a fever’s still clinging to you. Your heart hammers in your throat. Thighs aching.

You stare at the ceiling, blank-eyed, trembling. Hands no longer feeling like your own.

You've had dreams before, always had.  Vivid ones. Strange ones. But this—this was different. This felt real. Like a life lost. Like a man you buried. You don’t know him.

And still, you're sure, after years spent tangled in sheets that no longer bring comfort—he’s looking for you.

╭━━━━━ ━━━━━╮

You slipped into what looked, at first glance, like your own little slice of heaven on earth. A quiet coastal town buried deep along the East Coast, the kind people send postcards from and never truly leave behind. You arrived like the fog that drapes the shore most mornings. Quiet at first, uninvited, but somehow meant to stay. Even if just passing through, you’ll still be here when the tides roll back in. The kind of town where the buildings don’t sag from age alone, but from the weight of stories pressed deep into the earth. Stone walls cracked with salt and time, quaint to the untrained eye, but if you looked closely—really looked—you’d see the carvings. Etchings. Traces of lives that never quite left, lives the sea took without asking.

The wind doesn’t just whistle, it claws. Scratches at your windows, as if it knows your name, as if it’s been waiting for you all along. The sea that surrounds the town speaks in a language older than words. Not in waves or spray, but in something older. Older than maybe blood itself—ancient, low murmurs that awaken something buried deep within your bones.

The place is silent not because it’s empty, but because it holds too much memory. If you stand still enough—listen beyond the hush and the roar—you’ll catch its whispers. Names of forgotten places, footsteps that vanished long ago, shadows of lives once lived and never fully laid to rest. The soil here is heavy with blood and claim, a patchwork of hands that took without asking, resting over bones denied peace. The salted mist clings to you like a second skin, a quiet mourning that seeps into your very being. No matter how raw you arrive or how much you try to wash it away, it remains—wrapping around you, pulling at your soul, like the land itself recognizes you as one of its own.

Your Home. 

Though today, beneath a deceiving sky and promising clouds, the sun shines bright and the tides bring ships of men and women finally coming home. The town hums with a restless energy today—the docks alive with the sounds of creaking wood, shouted greetings, and laughter tangled with the sharp tang of salt and smoke. Mariners, returned after months of chasing horizons far beyond the map, pour off their ships with rough hands and tired smiles, clutching letters, gifts, and stories that shimmer with hope and heartbreak alike. The air buzzes with the weight of reunions, farewells, and the quiet promise of another voyage yet to come. Amidst the scuffle of footsteps and the town’s rising hum, your bar remains still—quiet as breath held underwater. It waits, as it always does, behind its stone walls, patient and expectant, listening for the voices that will soon fill it again. Your shoulders rest the way they always do after a night like the last—tense, worn down by a treacherous sort of familiarity. Not quite pain, but close. Not quite peace, either.

A tiredness that settles deep in the bones, edged with something stupidly hopeful. You wait for the only kind of relief you know how to ask for—not rest, not escape, but that strange, addictive calm that money can’t buy but often pretends to: the clink of glass, the scrape of boots on old floors, the same familiar faces with the same half-truths on their tongues. A little penance, a little pleasure. That masochistic ritual you’ve built your life around. 

Your bar. Your haven. Your crown.

“Busy night tonight. Y’ready to see everyone?” 

You didn’t turn right away. Just stood for a moment, eyes on the sea, its silver surface breaking like cracked glass in the late sun. Your voice came easy, even if your mouth pulled a little crooked with it. “You know, I see enough of everyone when they owe me money.”

A low chuckle answered you. Boots scuffed wood behind you, the weight of someone used to slipping in and out of places unnoticed.

“You know, most people might say that with a smile.”

You finally looked over your shoulder, slow and deliberate. “I’m not most people.”

There was a pause—just long enough for the breeze to lift the edges of your coat, to let your perfume coil into the salted air like something sweet laced with danger.

“That’s what they say, anyway. This godforsaken place. Whole damn town talks like it’s yours and you’re just lettin’ the rest of us drink here outta pity.” Carmen teases, light and playful as he is.

He's young—too young for the weight he carried behind the bar—but bright in that firecracker kind of way. All sharp teeth and quicker wit, brash enough to mouth off to sailors twice his size and charming enough to get away with it. He moved like he’d been raised in places with neon signs and trouble on tap, but something about the Crown suited him. He was exactly the kind of respectable you liked to keep on payroll: knew how to pour a drink, shut down a fight, and make a broken man laugh—all without ever letting on how carefully he was watching the room. He said things with a grin, but his eyes were always checking exits.

Just smart enough to survive. Just loyal enough to stay.

You turned then, fully, one brow raised, lips curled in that almost-smirk you were infamous for.

“It’s not pity. It’s taxes.”

The Widow’s Crown was the heart of the town—its pulse, its compass, its crown jewel. A bar tucked into the craggy cliffside like it was carved straight from the bones of the sea. Stone walls, stained glass in storm hues, a fireplace that crackled year-round like it knew secrets, and a back room only the brave or the stupid asked about.

Locals whispered that the land it sat on had been cursed or blessed depending who you asked. That your name was etched into the foundation somewhere, beneath the floorboards or deeper still, down in the cellar where no one but you ever went. The truth was simpler: you’d earned it. Fought for it. Outlasted men who tried to own it and townsfolk who thought you too sharp to hold anything soft.

You rebuilt it with salt and spite—stone by stone, drink by drink, until the walls held your shape better than your own skin ever did. Now they come to you. Always.

For drinks. For comfort. For penance.

The very things you chase yourself, just dressed different— burning in their throats as liquid courage, slipping through your veins as sleepless nights and hollow comfort. Familiar devils, all of them. And somehow, still so welcoming. Still so easy to mistake for home.

And tonight, the sea brings them back in droves—sunburned sailors, ghosts wrapped in skin, wanderers who remember your name even when they shouldn’t. “You pourin’ tonight, or is that honor left to your poor trembling staff?” 

“Depends. You planning to behave, Carm?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You just rolled your eyes and turned toward the Crown’s doors—painted black, scuffed by boots and years, still shining like a secret—throwing over your shoulder:

“Good. I hate a slow night.”

And it wasn’t.

The evening bloomed loud and warm, thick with the scent of brine, sweat, cheap perfume, and something cooking slow in the back—probably stew, possibly regret. The Widow’s Crown filled like a throat: laughter wedged between throaty shouts, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, boots thudding against floors worn down by too many storms and too much living. The jukebox flickered alive like it needed to be summoned first. The first song it spat out was older than half the sailors inside—gritty guitar and a voice that sounded like it smoked three packs a day and made love with a knife tucked in its boot.

Glasses clinked like windchimes in a storm. Someone passed around a story that wasn’t true—about a siren, or a curse, or a woman who walked into the sea and never walked out—and no one cared enough to correct it. Not here. Not tonight. 

You moved through it all like a current—barefoot in your boots, sharp-eyed, that rag always slung over your shoulder like a flag no one dared question. The crooked half-smile you wore wasn't an invitation, and everyone knew better than to mistake it for softness. You poured drinks. You counted cash. You made someone cry in the hallway without saying much at all, and someone else fall in love by the jukebox just by listening a little too long. You reminded the room—without raising your voice, without even really trying—that this was your place. You didn’t run the Crown. You were the Crown.

"You're late," you said flatly when Carmen finally slid behind the bar, shirt wrinkled and smelling faintly of oranges and gunpowder. "You're early," he shot back, ducking beneath the swinging shelf with all the grace of someone used to being chased.

“You work here, dumbass.”

“Debatable,” he muttered, already flipping a bottle upside down with one hand and wiping the sweat off his brow with the other. “I prefer the term essential presence.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll make you essentially unemployed.”

He grinned, all teeth. “That’s the spirit, boss.” 

Across the room, Old Lemmy—the drunk with a glass eye and a tattoo of a flamingo he swore was a phoenix—slapped the table and yelled, “Where’s my goddamn drink, woman! I’m dyin’ over here!”

You didn’t even look up. “Lemmy, you’ve been dying since Nixon resigned. If it’s taking this long, I’m not rushing it.” The bar howled with laughter, and Lemmy wheezed so hard he nearly fell off his stool.

“You’re cruel,” Carmen muttered, pouring him a whiskey anyway.

“You’re soft,” you replied, lips twitching. “That’s why I keep you around.”

Near the jukebox, Birdie—sweet-faced, sharp-tongued, and back from her third divorce—was already telling someone half her age to stop breathing near her unless he had a boat or better cheekbones. She winked at you across the bar like you were in on a secret. You were.

You always were. Everyone inside had their place, their rhythm, their role to play. You just happened to be the one who remembered how the script went when they forgot their lines. Someone leaned too far over the bar and you stepped forward, not saying a word. He backed off with an apology before your hand even reached the rag on your hip. Respect came easy here. Not out of fear—but because they knew you’d earned it.

Carmen slid you a glass of water you didn’t ask for. “Hydrate or die, boss,” he said. You took it, downed it, rolled your eyes. “I swear, if I ever go missing, they’ll find you at the bottom of the harbor with my boot in your ribs.”

Carmen just smirked. “At least I’ll die hydrated.”

The night spun on, full of sharp turns and too-loud laughter, sweat-slicked forearms, sloshed drinks, and the kind of camaraderie that stung a little the next morning but never quite disappeared. And through it all, you stood at the center. Like a lighthouse. Or maybe—like the storm that breaks against it.

But time, like the tide, always rolls back. And when the last round poured, when the stories grew slurred and the ghosts of the sea called their children home, the night changed.

The laughter faded. The sailors filtered out with the last of their pay tucked in calloused palms. Music dimmed into memory. And the salt in the air thickened—not bright and bracing like a summer breeze—no, this was heavier. Older. Like the tide had dragged up something it shouldn’t have, and now the town was bracing for its scent. You kicked the door closed behind the last straggler and twisted the lock. The sound echoed, too loud.

The bar swelled with the sea’s return. Outside, the fog began to gather. Not the soft kind that kissed your cheeks and vanished with the wind—but a thick, bone-deep kind. The kind that didn’t move so much as settle. Stubborn. Intentional. Like it had been called here. 

You stood in the threshold of the Crown, arms crossed, gaze locked on the docks below. From this cliffside view, the town looked like it was sinking beneath pale ghosts of clouds. Streetlights flickered down the narrow streets, amber pinpricks in a wash of gray. Footsteps grew quieter. Doors clicked shut. 

Even the gulls had gone silent. All that remained was the sharp-teethed wind and the crash of waves gnawing at black rocks—daring anyone still standing to feel it, to bear witness to the sea’s temper without flinching.

The days that followed moved like the storm circling slow, waiting for the right time to strike. There was no rain yet, no thunder—just that hush that comes before something breaks. Despite the new faces that rolled in with the tides—sunburned tourists and wandering souls looking for something nameless—there were still those who had lived here long enough to know better. Men and women weathered by salt and time, whose skin remembered storms even when their mouths refused to speak of them. They’d seen the sea show its teeth. They’d lost half the town to it, years before the wind ever began whispering your name too.

The town loves cruel, in its own way. A deep, briny kind of love. Gentle only in its consistency. It seduces the naive with postcard charm, then leaves them cracked and hollow, forgotten in doorframes and stonework. You’ve seen it happen more times than you can count—tourists who stumble in under starlight and salt, only to leave pieces of themselves behind. Not always by choice. It’s a funny thing to witness. But so unmistakably human.

Over time, you’ve learned the rhythm of it all. The faces that return. The ones that never leave. The patterns—of footsteps, of stories, of half-truths rinsed and repeated. Calloused hands gripping scuffed glass, promises passed across the bar like currency. It’s all part of the tide. They come bearing sea-dreams and sunburned hearts. Eyes strung with salted hope, voices worn thin from chasing the horizon. But with them—always—come stories.

Tales whispered late, when the lights are low and the whiskey’s burned clean through the throat. Of creatures with eyes too sharp to be human. Of voices that echo too closely to the ones you hear in dreams. Of things that look like people, but aren’t. As unforgiving and brackish as the waters that birthed them.

Hungry things. Waiting things. And lately—you’ve begun to think they might not be stories at all.

First, like it always have started with, came your damnation. Like it always had for as long as you could remember. Tonight, a new image surfaces, one that always follows, always clings: arms around you. Strong ones. Holding you like you’re already gone.

They’re warm, yes, but not comforting. Not safe. It’s the kind of warmth that comes from fire licking too close to skin. Desperate arms. Pleading hands. A grip that trembles, not from fear, but from refusal. They love you, you think—whoever they belong to. But it’s a love that feels misplaced, off-kilter. It doesn’t fall soft like morning light or stretch out slow like trust. It crashes. It clings. Reverent and forceful. Obsessive. A love that wants not just to keep you, but to claim you. Like an oath. A curse.

You don’t know why you’ve chalked that haunted embrace up to love. Maybe because you’ve never really known what love was supposed to feel like. Or maybe because whatever this is—this endless, hungry thing that holds you in dreams and memories and waking shadows—wants you so deeply it feels holy.

But even holiness can rot—can calcify into something brittle and cruel. It doesn’t strike with the hand after it’s fed you, but as it does—a sanctified cruelty, masked in comfort, bleeding you slow with grace still on its tongue.

Another night, another dream that leaves you wrecked. You wake the way you always do—panting, pulse slamming against your throat, sweat slicking your skin like a second, fevered layer. There’s a familiar ache—deep in your chest, sharp between your legs—and it’s so goddamn specific, so precise, it almost feels like punishment.

Twisted. That’s what it is. Downright fucking twisted.

You lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and think—not for the first time—that maybe you’re the fucked up one in all of this. Maybe you hit your head as a kid. Maybe you buried something so traumatic your brain decided to toss you scraps of it in cinematic, semi-erotic nightmares. Maybe this is just how madness blooms—Soft at first. Slow. Sensual, even. And then, all at once, it lives in you.

These dreams don’t just haunt you. They know you. Have been haunting you for longer than you care to admit—long enough that whole years have blurred, and you’re not sure if they’re memories or reruns. Moments you feel in your bones but can’t pin to a place, to a date, to a version of yourself that ever really existed. Time doesn’t run straight in your world. It bends. It folds. And it leaves you chasing after ghosts you’re starting to think might’ve once been you.

Is this that imposter syndrome bullshit Carmen’s always rambling about when he’s three shots deep and pretending he’s a therapist?

Because if so—great. Spectacular. Guess you’re officially losing your mind at your grown-ass age. Perfect timing. Really.

Then came the eeriness. Not the kind you feel as a kid, tucked in a blanket fort whispering ghost stories with wide eyes and sticky fingers. Not even the kind that creeps in on a lonely walk through town when everything’s gone too still, too quiet—when the streetlights flicker and you swear the shadows breathe.

No, this was something else. Something older. Hungrier.

This was the kind of eeriness that drained a person—not just their nerves or their sense of safety, but their essence. Their warmth. Their blood.

The morning sun broke sluggish through the fog, bleeding gold across the wet stones and half-drowned streets. The sea had not receded so much as curled back to watch. You showed up to the Crown early, as always. Keys biting your palm, shoulders tight beneath your jacket, throat sore from the dream you couldn’t shake. You hadn’t slept—not really. You just laid there for hours, haunted and raw, your body still echoing with phantom touches and that voice, his voice, whispering ruin like a promise against your skin.

Still, you moved. Still, you worked. That’s how it always was.

The windows were fogged and beaded with sea spray when you unlocked the front. The jukebox flickered like it had seen a ghost. You cleaned. You stocked. You counted out registers with a precision that had nothing to do with money and everything to do with control. You’d nearly convinced yourself it was a normal evening by the time the regulars started trickling in.

“Storm's rollin' in slow,” one of the dockhands muttered, shaking off rain from his coat. “Don't they always?” you replied, not looking up.

But there was one new-old face at the bar today. Captain Eli. A relic of the docks. A man with sea-glass eyes and fingers like driftwood—bent and brittle, stained by pipe smoke and salt. He’d been around since the town’s teeth first showed. Sometimes you forgot he was still alive. Sometimes you wondered if he was. He sipped his drink like he didn’t have teeth and started talking like he didn’t need an audience.

“Saw fog like this once before,” he rasped, voice dragging like an anchor chain across the floor. “Back in ‘77. Cold as death. Fog so thick it swallowed a man whole. Sea gave ‘im back a week later. Hollowed out. Eyes still blinkin’. Mouth full of someone else’s name.”

You didn’t flinch, but your jaw went tight. Someone near the bar chuckled. “Just a drunk sailor’s tale.” Eli didn’t laugh. His stare locked onto you.

“Nah. Some places remember. Some faces too. They come back wrong, though. Same skin, new time. But they carry things. Like scars. Debts.” You stopped wiping the glass in your hand.

“My grandpa had seen it. Woman just like you once, long time ago. Mean as a cut lash and sharper than God’s own sword. Married a man who didn’t stay dead. Or maybe he just refused to stay gone.” A silence fell so deep you could hear the gulls scream outside.

You met his gaze and spoke low. “You see a lotta things that ain't there, Cap.”

He smiled with only half his mouth. “Maybe. But some of it sees me back.”

And then, just like that, he turned to sip again. As if he hadn’t cracked the spine of a nightmare and left it open on the bar between you. You walked away slow, each step deliberate. But the hairs on the back of your neck stayed raised. Because his story felt more like a memory than a lie. And somehow—you knew he wasn’t talking about anyone else but you. The night carried on. At least, it tried to.

Voices rose, laughter echoed, and the Crown did what it always did: held the town’s secrets between its stone ribs and didn’t spill a drop. Men came in with weather-worn hands and salt still in their boots, nodding greetings, passing flasks, scraping chairs loud across the floor. You poured drinks like always. Cashed out the machine. Fixed the jukebox when it spat static instead of song. But it all felt… off.

Like a memory you didn’t know you had. Like déjà vu with blood under its nails. Every word the old sailor had rasped was still rattling around in your head like storm wind in a boarded-up attic.

“Married a man who didn’t stay dead.” “Same skin, new time.” “Carried things. Like scars. Debts.”

You didn’t believe in curses. Not exactly. But you knew the feel of something following you. You’d felt it your whole life—lurking just behind your reflection, moving beneath the skin of your dreams, speaking in a voice you swore you never learned but knew in your bones. Tonight, it whispered louder.

You moved through the bar like a ghost in your own body. Wiped tables, nodded politely, smiled when you had to—but your hands kept twitching. Like they wanted to grip something. Like they remembered holding a blade, perhaps even a rifle. And then came the words. Not out loud. Just there. In your mind. Words that didn’t belong to you. Not really.

“What a fool you were, to love him past the grave.”

“Don’t ask a promise from a man you have to bury.”

You didn’t know where they came from, but they sounded older than the floorboards beneath you. The captain looked at you once across the bar, like he heard them too. He raised his glass halfway, eyes shining with something just this side of recognition.

“Y’know,” he said, voice low, dragging like low tide, “we used to say it different, back then. Before the war. Before the sea took half the town.”

You raised a brow. “Say what?” 

He swirled the amber in his glass. “Love. Damnation. Fate. We didn’t call it that. Called it binding. Called it reckoning. Said some women were born with blood that called monsters to their door.” You swallowed, throat dry.

“And what’d they do with women like that?”

He smiled, all teeth. “Married ‘em. Then buried ‘em. Never stopped loving ‘em.”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. The words were in you now. Like a second pulse.

Mine. Always been. Always will be.

You stared out the bar window then. Toward the black mouth of the ocean. Toward the fog that hadn’t lifted since last night. Something inside you ached—not fear, not grief—something more like homesickness. But not for a place. For a moment. A face. A name you couldn’t say without bleeding. You were forgetting something. Or maybe—remembering it. And still, the bar kept humming.

The sailors told stories they barely believed themselves. The drinks kept flowing. The jukebox played a song older than it should’ve been allowed to remember. And Eli, half asleep in the corner, muttered something into his glass that sounded like a prayer.

“Let the sea take him this time.”

You didn’t ask who. But for a second, you wished you knew. Deep down, maybe you did.

And just like that—like the slow, unexpected drip of a cracked fountain—everything stopped.

Abrupt. Jarring. Like a needle screeching off a record mid-song, leaving behind a silence that felt too sudden, too knowing. The storm, still coiled somewhere out beyond the horizon, still clinging to your skin and leaving your bartop slick with condensation, simply… stilled. Not gone, not over. Just paused. Like the whole damn world had exhaled—one long, tired breath held too long.

It reminded you of those rare moments behind the bar—you, Carmen, and the poor souls that got roped into the shift—sinking onto overturned crates, backs pressed to liquor boxes, a stolen cigarette making slow rounds between burned-out hands. Not rest, exactly. Just a break from the chaos. The kind that doesn't last long, but hits like grace when it comes. Time, it seemed, had taken one of its own. And for a second, everything felt too quiet.

And yet, your irritation? Very much alive.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” you snapped, slamming a towel down hard enough to rattle the bottles behind you. “Get this son of a bitch outta my bar before I personally handle it. Where the hell is Jaime?!”

Carmen popped up from the back with a half-eaten orange slice in his mouth. “He’s bouncing some frat guy who thought the jukebox was voice-activated.”

“Ain't that a damn miracle,” you muttered. “Then someone else can bounce this one—preferably out the front door and into oncoming traffic.” The offender in question—a sunburnt, tank-top-wearing caricature of bad decisions—was currently arguing with one of your servers about why he shouldn’t have to pay for the drink he spilled on himself.

“Babe,” the tourist slurred, gesturing with a lime wedge like it was a threat. “I’m just saying—where I’m from, the customer is always right.” You were already halfway around the bar.

“Where you’re from, do customers get their teeth knocked in for being dickheads, or is that just a charming local tradition I can introduce you to?”

The guy blinked at you like you’d just spoken Latin. “Whoa, no need to be hostile—”

“I’m not hostile,” you said, sweet as cyanide. “I’m fucking working.”

Before the conversation could evolve into something more physical, and oh, it was close, Jaime appeared—broad, silent, and cracking his neck like punctuation.

“Please escort this pile of Axe body spray out of my building,” you said, already turning back toward the bar. “And if he resists, consider it cardio.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jaime rumbled, hand already on the guy’s shoulder. “Hey—hey!” the tourist protested as he was hauled toward the door. “This is, like, discrimination or something!”

“Yeah,” Carmen muttered, passing by with a tray of dirty glasses. “We discriminate against assholes. Tough break, man.”

The bar laughed—your people. Your locals. The townies. Regulars who knew to duck when glass flew and when not to test your temper. You swept behind the bar again, mood dark as thunderclouds, lips pressed into that dangerous little smirk that made grown men shut the hell up.

Carmen handed you a fresh towel. “Feel better?” he asked.

You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut rope. “You wanna join him?”

He held up his hands. “I’m just the talent, boss.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched. Outside, thunder groaned low and slow—like it approved. Despite the growing irritation thrumming just beneath your skin from the frat boys, the condensation, the low hum of thunder that hadn’t cracked yet—you were, admittedly, beaming on the inside. Quietly. Secretly. Like someone hoarding the last piece of chocolate or the best corner booth in a diner.

Because for once, you weren’t running on fumes and stubbornness alone. The stillness tonight? It wasn’t empty—it was earned. With the storm’s pause came something better: ease. A rare, elusive creature in your world. You hadn’t opened the bar this morning, hadn’t dragged yourself in at dawn on pure caffeine and curses. Instead, you’d woken hours later to a room still dark with fog, sheets wrapped loose around your limbs, your body heavy with the kind of sleep that didn’t ask questions or pull you under screaming. Inky silence. No dreams. No whispers through the cracks in your memory.

Just...nothing. And it had felt like a blessing.

Nine hours. Maybe ten if you counted the blurry half-conscious phone call to Carmen where you’d slurred something about prepping ice and not setting anything on fire. He’d grunted something in reply that vaguely sounded like “yes, boss,” and you’d hung up before your brain caught up.

You’d slept, by your very loose and slightly cursed definition of the word, like a goddamn baby. No ache in your chest. No tremor in your thighs. No sweat-soaked sheets or phantoms pressed too close. Just warmth. Stillness. Peace.

You’d even stretched when you woke up—stretched, like some self-care influencer and not a woman who usually started her mornings with a shot of whiskey and a half-forgotten scream into a cracked mirror. And now, even as you wiped condensation off the bar with more aggression than necessary, even as you threatened to personally exorcise the next tourist who mispronounced the town’s name—you felt the echo of that rest clinging to your bones. It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

Enough to make the thunder seem poetic instead of ominous. Enough to let your smirk linger a little longer. Enough to make you think—maybe just tonight—you’d make it through without a dream dragging you back under.

But even that peace, small and stolen, carried a warning. Because the calm always came first, before the sea took something back. And your body, whether it remembered it or not, had always known how to brace for the storm.

Sweat clung to the base of your spine, a thin sheen catching on the small of your back and soaking deeper into the black tank top stretched across your shoulder blades. It stuck tighter with every shift and lean, every dip between tables and worn barstools, the humid air turning skin to velvet and breath to fog. The kind of heat that softened the bones and sharpened the edge of every sound. Heat that made even the ghosts restless.

The Crown boomed with unmistakable pulse despite it all—rowdy, salt-laced, a little mean like all good places should be. Boots dragged across warped floorboards slick with sea-damp. A woman's laugh broke too loud and too fast, slurring into something just shy of a yell. Carmen was yelling back, of course, but it was the charming kind—him snapping a bar rag at someone with that shit-eating grin, bright eyes catching yours across the room.

You gave him a nod. Wiped the back of your neck. Told yourself you weren’t imagining the way the condensation on the windows seemed to crawl upward instead of down. The regulars were in rare form. Ricky, with his chipped tooth and lifelong tan, was in his usual corner nursing the same whiskey he’d been pretending to sip for twenty years. He was mid-story, as always, and by now you could mouth along with it like a song. “And I told the bastard, you ever touch my boat again, I’ll gut you with a spoon!”

Laughter followed—boisterous, a little too easy. “Bet you tripped over your own feet trying to get to that spoon,” someone heckled. “Hell, he probably drank the boat dry!” another shouted.

You smiled without thinking. Tossed a lime slice across the bar at Ricky’s head. It missed. Barely. He flipped you off with the kind of affection only earned by pouring a man drinks for a decade and dragging him off the floor at least twice a month. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

But then the jukebox hiccupped. Not skipped. Not glitched. Just… stopped. A single note held a little too long, like something got caught in its throat. You looked up. Carmen paused mid-pour. It started again a beat later—different track, older one. One that hadn’t been in rotation for months. You frowned. Made a note to check it later. Or maybe not. These kinds of things happened in the Crown. Electrical, magnetic, or just plain weird. It wasn’t new. Still, something about it crawled up the back of your throat and sat there. You shook it off.

Someone slammed a shot glass onto the bar. “Another round, boss lady!” You poured. Wiped your hands. Turned just in time to see the ceiling fan slow, its blades groaning like they’d aged fifty years in the last minute.

And then you heard it—faint. A scrape. Like nails dragged gently across the underside of a table. Like someone whispering their name just barely out of earshot. Your head snapped toward the hallway. Empty. Just the shadows stretching long and crooked in the corner, bending a little wrong in the flickering light. You blinked. They straightened. Carmen was talking again, someone was singing along with the jukebox, a glass shattered somewhere near the bathrooms and two patrons laughed like they’d seen it coming. But underneath all that—beneath the sweat and salt and noise—something pulled. Tugged low in your stomach like a muscle memory. Like recognition. And then it bled through.

Not a vision, not quite. Just a feeling. A warmth that wasn’t from the bar’s heat. A pressure at your throat, gentle and possessive. Hands that weren’t there, but once had been—holding your hips, lifting you, laying you down on something not a bed but not the floor either. Stone maybe. Wet. Cold. Sacred.

You sucked in a breath so fast it burned. The bar kept moving. You didn’t.

For a moment, your eyes didn’t belong to you now. They belonged to another room, another life. Dim candlelight. A mouth full of devotion and ruin against your skin. A voice rasping your name like it was a prayer and a threat all at once.

“Mine,” he’d said. You hadn’t heard it in this life.

But your body remembered it. A gust of wind swept through the Crown. It rattled the windows like a tantrum. Every flame flickered. Glasses wobbled on shelves. Then the door creaked. You turned slow. Then—A gust of wind.

It swept through the Crown with no warning, no cause. Just… entered, like it owned the place. The windows rattled with a fury that didn’t match the calm on the street outside. Flames in their low glass homes danced frantically. One blew out entirely. Glasses trembled against shelves. A napkin lifted off a table, floated, then dropped in silence. You turned slow. And there was nothing.

No figure in the doorway. No tall silhouette carved in lightning. Just the door cracked open an inch too far, letting in a mist that curled around your ankles like it had fingers. The storm, settled now, breathed soft against the threshold. A cold that sank deep but didn’t bite. You exhaled. Long. Slow. Practiced. The kind of breath you’d taught yourself to take when the dreams got too loud.

The ache in your ribs eased, just slightly. Then came Jaime’s voice. Firm, but not urgent. Just that steady, dependable calm he carried when things started to fray around the edges.

“Bar’s almost at full capacity… got a guy outside askin’ if he can come in.” You blinked—like waking up.

Your fingers found the towel at your waist, gripping it hard enough to feel the fabric bite. “Yeah,” you said, voice still a little hoarse from whatever that was. “Let him in. Just… keep an eye out, alright? Tourists are one thing, I don’t need this place flooding or fists flying in the middle of all this.”

Jaime nodded. You didn’t need to say more. He was good like that. And just like that—Normal resumed.

But something had shifted. Not the kind you could see. Just a thread in the weave gone tight. The seal had broken. You could feel it. Like a draft you hadn’t noticed until it sank into your skin. Minutes that dragged like hours passed, and then the tide came in. You were mid-pour when the Crown tipped sideways into chaos.

Not the violent kind—no, just the usual barroom mess: someone on Carmen’s end of the counter didn’t show, a table of locals were halfway through a bottle and demanding fries like it was their divine right, and the cocktail shaker was jammed again, refusing to come loose unless you used the heel of your palm like a weapon.

You didn’t flinch. You moved. Like tidewater—brisk, automatic, and always knowing where to go before anyone else did. It was muscle memory. Breathe. Step. Smile.

Carmen shot you a panicked look from the far end. You already knew. Section three was slipping. Someone no-showed, and now you were the net. You pivoted off your heel and wove your way into it—your rag slung over your shoulder, boots scuffing the floor, voice low and cutting as you flagged two college kids who were trying to steal shot glasses again.

You didn’t notice the door open with Jaime’s invitation. You didn’t hear it either—not over the hum of the jukebox, the clang of the kitchen, the bark of laughter from a group of off-duty dockworkers. It wasn’t until you turned, trying to steady a tray with two whiskey sodas and a plate of wings, that the air changed.

Like sea mist, an odd man was just—there. No thunder. No drama. Just presence.

You didn’t even look at him first, your mind too full of orders and numbers and that familiar throb behind your eyes that always came on busy nights.

“Give me a sec,” you said out of habit, turning toward the bar with the tray still in your hands, the words barely formed.

Then—He spoke. Only a jumble of three muttered words.

“‘Scuse me, ma'am.”

Simple. Low. Soft like silk dragged across old wounds. You turned without meaning to. And the tray in your hands nearly tipped.

It wasn’t that he looked familiar. It wasn’t recognition. It was the gut-punch of déjà vu without memory—the sense that your body had already knelt for this voice in a life that wasn’t yours. The rest of the bar seemed to hum around him, but nothing touched him. Not the heat. Not the sound. Not even the mist that clung to his coat like it had followed him in from the sea itself.

He wasn’t wet. But the scent of rain came with him. And like it had been waiting for his permission, the storm broke. A crack of thunder. Then the slow, deliberate tap of rain on the roof. First soft. Then steady. Then relentless.

And you—you just stared. The tray slid from your fingers and thunked softly onto the bar. Not broken. Just forgotten.

And somewhere deep beneath the Widow’s Crown, the sea shifted.

“Can I get you anything?” Your voice came out soft as a daydream, but as certain as the thunder that now boomed proud and bashful right outside your doors.

His eyes flicked up at the sound of you—cerulean, deep, and sharp around the edges like the sea right before it swallows a boat. He barely reacted. A single twitch, maybe, just a hair widened—but you caught it. You always caught things like that. Reading faces came second nature. Especially the ones that wanted to be unread.

He sat too still. Back straight, elbows resting stiff on the bartop like they didn’t belong there. His clothes were wrong, too—off in a way that set something low in your stomach turning. Black work pants, sure, the kind dockhands wore, but too clean, too pressed. Like he wanted to pass. Gray shirt clinging to a chest that told you he wasn’t new to violence, no matter how carefully he stood. You could’ve sworn—just for a breath—his eyes took on that same deep gray when they shifted under the crackling firelight, dripping down from blue like wet ink. And then that chain. Gold, delicate-looking, stretched tired across the pale column of his throat. Like it had been worn too long and he'd exhausted it. Like it had belonged to someone else first.

The leather jacket was the final nail. Too many pockets. Too many places to hide something sharp. Closed up tight like a confession not meant to be spoken, like a damn secret. Like he was trying to look like he was playing nice. He looked like a secret pretending to be a man.

In all honesty, it fucking irked you. 

The silence that followed your question went on too long—long enough to feel pointed. The heat in your chest twisted, coiling like a storm all its own, the ember of your earlier mood flaring hotter behind your eyes.

You leaned in just slightly, arms crossed, smile long gone.

“You gonna keep staring, or can I help you, sir?” Your words bit, soft and polite only in form. 

The way he swallowed at it—sharp and slow—should’ve been a sign that he was nervous, his throat bobbed. But maybe, if you really were as delusional or insane as your dream-soaked mind liked to suggest, he was satisfied with being bitten and chewed up. Even if it played as being soft, if it was you. And that—more than anything—was what really set your teeth on edge.

And then, only then, after soaking in what was barely more than a nip, he smiled. Crooked and slow, like he was in on something you hadn’t been told.

“Just lookin’ for a respectable place to ride out the storm, ma’am. Nasty one, isn’t it?”

His voice dripped like warm honey, coating each word in a tone that sank beneath your skin—soft, slow, and deliberate. It prickled as it landed, made the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. That alone was the first red flag: he wasn’t from here. No one local spoke like that.

His accent was strange, but not off-putting—Irish, unmistakably. But laced with something else, something Southern and smooth at the edges, like bourbon poured over old songs and Sunday confessions. The kind of voice that didn’t belong in this town full of hoarse laughter and salt-split vowels.

Just like him—he didn’t belong.

And in this sea of familiar faces, of regulars you’d poured drinks for a thousand times and traded insults with like they were currency, he stood out like a ghost in rainsoaked moonlight. Strange. Unsettling. And yet… undeniably familiar. 

That caused the flames riding high and mighty behind your eyes in that steady and blinding pulse, to move to lick at your throat. You weren’t sure why you were so goddamn irritated at this peculiar stranger, it almost left you speechless, almost.

You blinked, your mind catching up with your body too slow, too dream-drunk for your liking. Still, your voice came out smooth. Steady. A practiced thing, even as the air around you thickened like it was listening.

“Respectable’s a stretch,” you said, cocking your head as your eyes dragged over him, shameless and sharp. “But if you’re lookin’ to keep dry and outta trouble, you picked the wrong night and the right place.”

His smile twitched wider, and you hated the way it made your chest tighten—hated it so much you wished your words had been meaner, sharper, cruel enough to split skin on contact. It was a strange thing to hold against a stranger, really. Irrational. Petty. But that didn’t make it any less true.

Because despite all that he was—strange, unsettling, far too composed for a storm night—he was still just a man. And yet, you felt the need to bare your teeth like he was something else entirely.

You turned then, forcing your attention back to the bottle of whiskey itching with cold sweat and anticipation next to your elbow, shoulders tense with the weight of something unnamed. Something old. 

“What’s your poison?” you asked, voice clipped. Because suddenly, the storm wasn’t just outside anymore.

It had walked in, slow and smiling, and asked for shelter.

taglist ; @lunaleah @idiotsatan @arquiiva @pixieofthesun @kaelizl @nefertiti2003 @damnzelsoul @latebean

[rawme-price]

Please write healer reader healing soap from his TBI which of course triggers the best sex of his life wait does bigger injury more intense the pleasure please just more debauchery of healing and soap and soap wants to return the favor and excuse me for not formatting or ending sentences I am too excited

Using this ask to post a scrapped idea for the healer!reader lol.

you get to johnny too late. you know it as sure as you know his heart. his blood is splattered everywhere, price tries to hold you back but you push through. your palms are glowing before they even touch him.

theres nothing. no pain to feel or fix when hes dead, but you push anyways. you push all of your magic into him, begging and praying to hear that familiar sigh of releif. it never comes. the room glows hot with the sheer power behind ur magic, chest glowing and eyes bright, a power greater than anything youve used before. you give it all to him, you press your very soul into his cold body and pray.

it does nothing. you cant heal what is dead.

the journey back is quiet. your eyes never stop glowing, reaching out for a body you know wont be there.

you dont heal anyone for a long time. no one asks you to.

then gaz gets hurt, bullet tearing right through his chest, and you feel like ur back there with johnny again. you press your palms into gaz, waiting to hear his usual sounds that tell you hes okay.

he screams. he screams and grips at your arms, but you can still feel the pain and if you can feel it you can fix it, so you shove him down and fix him. hes crying at the end, backing away from you. he doesnt look at you, hands shaking.

your magic has never hurt anyone before. healers dont do that. gaz is breathing, hes fixed, but he gasping like hes been shot ten times over. you did that. you hurt him. maybe a part of you did die with johnny.

(whoah hope yall liked it! not my usual style of writing, but i couldnt stop thinking abt it lol)

[ariesthetouchdeprivedgirl]

Behind Closed Doors

Smoke x Black!OC

I am #FINALLY done with this little story.. It only took a couple of days lol. I am very excited, and nervous, but overall happy to share this lil story. It’s definitely a small bit of mischaracterization as I believe Smoke is reallll good man, but I don’t know.. Something about this story, and this idea just gives me that 🫦. lollll… anyways. I hope yall enjoy, and I will greatly appreciate any feedback!!

Jane sat at her vanity, admiring the pearl necklace that sat almost perfectly on her dark skin. She tilted her head, a small satisfying smile gracing her lips.

Smoke had gifted it to her around six months ago, a spontaneous reveal made her swoon.

After a night of passion, Jane expected smoke’s side of the bed to be cold and empty. Instead, to her surprise, resting on his pillow was a black velvet box.

When Smoke came back that night she was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him, box in hand. He walked through the door, his faint and familiar scent of tobacco cutting through the air, instantly flooding her senses.

His eyes found Jane immediately, the light above the stove casting soft shadows over her face. Moonlight slipping through the blinds highlighting the gift he left for her.

“You ain’t like it” he asked, peeling off his hat and coat, and throwing it over a chair before he moved over to the bar.

“No” she said her voice soft but steady.

He cut his gaze to her as he poured his whiskey. “I love it” she held a knowing smile, a hint of mischief in her words.

She rose from the table and walked to him, affectionate eyes locked on his. “I want you to put it on me” her gentle hand placing the box in his rough hold.

Smoke did as she wanted, clamping the pearl necklace around her neck, calloused hands contrasting with her delicate skin.

Jane faced him again, fingertips ghosting over the cool pearls, before she looked up at him.

“How does it look?”

Smokes eyes dragged over her, lingering at the swell of her breast beneath the silk fabric of her nightgown.

“Looks good baby” he sipped on his whiskey, leaning against the counter.

Jane stepped closer, pressing her body against his and draping her arms around his neck.

“Thank you daddy” she pressed a gentle kiss around his lips. He grunted a “mhm” as he watched her with intense eyes.

Her lips curved into a teasing smile, “I just wanna show you how thankful I am” her whispered voice dripped with promise.

Smoke, amused sat his drink on the counter and wrapped his hands around her waist.

“Mhm, and how you gon do that baby?”

Jane’s face grew warm as she reminisced on the memory. It was restless and intense, they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other that night.

The sound of the telephone ringing broke her from her train of thought. She jumped up excitedly, expecting to hear Smoke’s voice. He was probably gonna tell her he was on the way, or that he’d be a little late. But it wasn’t him. instead Jane recognized the voice of her friend and coworker, Bernice.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jane..”

“Bernice? Hey, what’s up?”

“Is anyone else around?”

Jane furrowed her eyebrows. “Um, no. It’s just me.”

Jane heard Bernice exhale on the other end of the line. A real long and uneasy breath that put Jane on edge.

“Okay good, cause I got something to tell you.”

“It’s about your man”

Jane’s stomach dropped. The warmth she held from her earlier thoughts completely vanishing.

What did Bernice’s messy ass know about Smoke that she didn’t?

“I was at the club last night, with Terrance, and I saw Smoke.”

Jane sat silently. Smoke didn’t come by last night, said he had things to handle, or whatever, she learned not to ask.

“And he wasn’t there alone”

Jane zeroed in on Bernice’s voice. It felt like she couldn’t see, think, hear, or breathe anything in other than Bernice’s words.

He wasn’t alone..?

Then who was he with?

Was it Annie?

“You there Jane?” Bernice asked.

“Yea.. Yea I’m still here Bernice.”

“Okay good. But yeah like I was saying, I was with Terrance when I saw Smoke, with some woman. And from the looks of it they seemed to know each other pretty well”

Jane was about to ask to for a description but stopped herself. What would be the point? She ain’t know what Annie look like anyway.

“They were sitting in front of us, and girl. he ain’t even have no shame, looked me dead in my eyes and ain’t say a thing!” Bernice exclaimed.

“I walked past their table a couple of times, you know tryna see who the girl was, and I noticed, ain’t nann one of em had a ring on they finger!”

Jane’s stomach churned. Smoke never wore his ring around Jane, at least when they were at home.

When he came to her job, sure, it was on. But once they were alone it was tucked away in his coat pocket.

So who was the other woman? And why was she so upset, as if she wasn’t already the other woman.

“They was all over each other girl, I mean the man was cheesing all in her face. And I don’t know about you, but shit I never seen such a sight before.” Bernice kept gossiping , as if Jane wasn’t losing her mind on the other end of the line.

She continue talking about whatever else her and Terrance had seen at the club, but it was all background noise to Jane. Her mind overcome by thoughts of Smoke and some other woman.

“Bernice, I gotta go, I’ll see you at work” Jane said, seconds away from hanging up the phone.

“Wait Jane, I just.. You okay?” she asked.

Jane wanted to scoff. Of course she wasn’t okay. But there was no reason to be mad at Bernice. She had given her a glimpse into the man she thought she knew.

“Yeah I’m good” Jane lied through her teeth.

Bernice sighed, “I just want you to be happy Jane, and that man.. he just ain’t no good.”

“Obviously Bernice” Jane thought to herself.

She was his mistress for crying out loud. She knew exactly how ‘not good’ Smoke was. If he were a good man they wouldn’t be involved with each other in the first place.

“Okay Bernice, imma go now, thanks for calling”

“Okay girl, let me know if you need anything”

“Mhm I will”

And with that, Jane slammed the telephone against the wall, the sharp chatter echoing through her empty apartment.

Jane’s mind was racing a million miles per hour. So many questions, so many feelings, all of it just crashing into her at once. Was she really that naive, to think she was the only one. Her pulse throbbed in her throat, and she felt a faint pang of pain in her chest.

She stumbled to the bathroom, convinced she was going to be sick. But her reflection in the mirror stopped her in her tracks. The pearls gleaming under the harsh bathroom light. The weight of it suddenly felt heavier, and they began to sting against her chest.

A beautiful, yet painful reminder him.

Of them.

Jane stared at herself for a moment. She ran her fingers over the necklace, the cool pearls began to feel suffocating. She considered yanking them off. So she could watch them scatter against the floor in the same manner that her thoughts were. But something in her resisted.

Maybe it was that foolish part of her that believed the lie they had built together was still strong. Shit they built it together, they were.. they are together.

With a shaky exhale Jane turned away from the mirror. Flicking the light off as she walked to her bedroom. She didn’t bother changing out of her slip, not even thinking to take the pearls off. They now rested on her skin as a bitter kiss.

She sank into the sheets, the scent of Smoke calming her just as much as it pained her. The ache in her chest making her force her eyes shut, hoping to sleep the pain away, and forget everything she just heard.

About an hour after midnight Smoke let himself into the apartment. Tired from the streets he figured he’d spend some time with Jane before heading home. The faint smell of the candles Jane loved to burned flowed through the air.

And the light from them made Jane glow. He saw her, sitting in the middle of the bed. Her fingers absently playing with the pearls around her neck. She didn’t even look up at him, either too lost in thought, or too exhausted to care about who walked in.

Smoke watched her for a long moment, before he slowly walked into the room. His footsteps heavy against the wooden floors. Yet, Jane still hadn’t acknowledged him.

“Baby” his deep voice rung out.

Jane slowly lifted her head, eyes glassy and filled with emotion. But her expression was unreadable. Smoke took a quick scan around the room before his eyes landed on her again. A small twitch at the corner of her mouth catching his attention before she spoke.

“Hi Smoke” her light voice let out, a forced smile on her lips.

A frown settled on Smoke’s face. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on, and something about Jane felt.. off.

“Whats up?” he questioned her with narrow eyes.

“Hmm?” She tilted her head, a hint of faux confusion in her eyes. “I just missed you baby, that’s all.” She walked over to him, she laid her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt.

“Where you coming from” she questioned, her eyes watched his face intensely for any sign of guilt, or surprise.

But his expression remained impassive, he was still his stoic and unreadable self.

“Work” he muttered, brushing past her into the bedroom. He started getting comfortable, shrugging his coat off, throwing that and his hat on her vanity’s chair. He sat his shoes in the corner, and began working on his cufflinks.

“You ain’t cook nothing” he cut his gaze to her.

“No, but I can” she said leaning doorway, her arms crossed loosely.

Smokes eyes lingered on her, watching the way her jaw clinched, ever so lightly, and noticing the tension in her posture. “So you ain’t eat nothing, that’s why you looking frail”

Jane’s expression faltered for a split second. Eyebrows furrowing a small unsteady breath leaving her lips.

She cleared her throat, “what you mean baby, I’m the same size I was last time you saw me” she forced that tight, unconvincing smile again.

Smoke’s jaw tightened. Something was off and he knew that she knew he knew.

He pulled his dress shirt off, tossing it in the hamper, leaving him in his undershirt and slacks.

“I’m staying over tonight” he said, vision fixed on her.

Jane’s eyes widened, “What?”

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You don’t want me to?”

“No it’s just—i didn’t expect it.. that’s all” she straightened up, a fake ass brightness as she walked towards him. “I’m happy you’re staying.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his. Her warmth seeping through his shirt. He placed his hand on the small of her back, his other hand reaching up to her neck, toying with her pearls.

He felt her breath hitch.

Smoke’s grip tightened around her neck, forcing her to look up at him. “What is it?”

She blinked, eyes wide with surprise. “What’s what?”

Smoke’s eyes hardened as he stared at her. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

Jane’s lips curved into a small pout, her eyes softened, trying you disarm him. “I’m not baby.” She reached up, handing cradling his face, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks like she always did. “I keep saying I missed you, it’s been a few days now” she threw in a small laugh for good measure.

Smoke’s jaw flexed, searching her face for any sign of a lie.

“Want me to run you a bath?” She offered a little too eagerly. “I’ll cook something while you wash up” she tried to pull back but he held her in her place, his grip firm and unmoving.

Panic flashed across her face, she tried to conceal it but he noticed.

“Nah” his voice gravely, “stay right here.” He let her go and walked out the room.

Smoke did a quick sweep of the apartment, looking closely at every shadow and corner. but he found nothing.

On his way to the bedroom, his eyes caught the telephone, still hanging from the cradle. Smoke started to connect the dots.

“Come here Jane”

She hesitated, his voice was firm, but it was a little too calm. Jane’s heart pounded in her chest as she forced her legs to walk to Smoke.

Smoke’s eyes flickered to the phone, then back to her.

“You broke the phone?”

She smiled, forcing a short nervous laugh, “It was an accident, i’m sorry.” She tried to casually wave it off.

Smoke didn’t blink, eyes boring into her.

“Who called you?”

Jane cleared her throat, smile wavering a bit, “oh it was just Bernice”

Smoke tilted his head, “what she say to get you to break the damn phone?”

Jane felt her throat tighten. “She was just gossiping, you know how she gets.”

“Gossiping about what”

Jane looked away from his gaze, eyes darting to the kitchen.

“Oh.. nothing” she smiled at him, before walking to the kitchen.

“You want some breakfast, you know I don’t keep much in this fridge” she forced a weak, hollow sound that was supposed to be a laugh.

“What she tell you Jane?” He asked as she lit the stove up.

Jane froze there for a moment, watching the blue flames come to life. Her pulse thundering in her ears.

“Jane” he snapped her out of her daze with his rough voice.

She blinked. “It was nothing Smoke, just girl drama”, her words quick and rehearsed as she grabbed a pan from the cupboard.

Smoke didn’t move, his gaze never left her, he still didn’t believe her. He stepped closer, his presence starting to overwhelm her. “Girl drama? You acting strange over some girl drama. You sure?”

She nodded her head, not looking at him. “Yeah baby, just some gossip. Nothing to worry about”

Her hands trembled as she adjusted the pan on the stove top, tears starting to flood her vision.

Smoke took another step closer, “you know I don’t like that lying shit. Especially about something so simple” he spoke, tone dangerously low.

Jane still kept her head down, watching the stove. “Nothings goin on Smoke, I promise” she whispered, trying to convince herself.

Smoke didn’t move, and she felt the heat of his gaze pouring into her, but she didn’t move either.

“You gon keep lying”

The question hung in the air for what seemed like forever. As each second stretched she fought to keep her composure.

“Nobody’s lying to you smoke” her shaky voice said, barely above a whisper. She felt a sob rising in her throat, but she wasn’t willing to let it out.

Smoke stood there, and let her look at the pan she found so interesting all of a sudden. He placed a gentle hand on the nape of her neck. Jane felt her stomach tighten.

He rubbed it softly, thumb stroking her skin. “Look at me” he whispered what seemed like a command and a plea.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill.

“Baby” he said in that smooth voice that always relaxed her. He pressed closer to her, hand laying flat on her stomach.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, the weight of the pearls and his hand moving to her neck slowly bringing her to her demise.

“What’d she tell you” he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Fingers tracing the line of her jaw.

Jane slowly lifted her head, meeting his gaze. He tried to read her face, trying to find any crack, any sign of the truth. They stared at each other for a second before her breath hitched and a sob broke free.

Jane quickly turned her body to bury her face into smoke’s chest. Her sobs weren’t loud or dramatic, instead raw and broken.

Smoke stilled for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her back in slow steady circles. Hoping to calm her down. And for a while, he didn’t speak, he just held her. Letting her drench his shirt in tears.

[worksbykai]

ATTENTION

paring : paige bueckers x azzi fudd

content : fluff, annoyed/strict/ clingy azzi, oblivious/childish paige, Ice being their biggest hater, that’s it 😁😁

warnings : language

synopsis : After a fun but hectic night at a Mary J. Blige concert the team isn’t quite ready for their fun to end, well excluding azzi who wants to relax watch a movie and be with paige, but mabye paige had other plans.

notes : This one shot is based off of this request! Tysm and hope you enjoy! (NOT PROOFREAD) and I got tired at the end, pretty sure you can tell!!”

10:46 PM

Azzi had never been the type to bash anyone’s party, i mean if anything she would join with enough convincing, but right now? Does not count. Herself, Paige, and the rest of the team were on their way back from a (long awaited by azzi) Mary J. Blige concert.

Azzi had been riding a high the whole time, bumping her head to the music as her curls caught the beat aswell. The team even had the opportunity to meet the star backstage, they made tiktok’s, took pictures, it was the most fun Azzi had in a while due to games after games, press conferences, she couldn’t really catch a break.

But that was an hour ago, now all she could think about was taking a nice warm shower, finding a good movie, cuddle in her favorite blanket with her favorite girl, paige. It sounded simple in her head but it was basically everything but that. Paige was like a child that Azzi had to deal with 24/7 or like a dog that had to much energy so you have to take it outside, not to compare her girlfriend to a dog but getting paige settled down was not for the weak.

Azzi’s body slowly shifted as her body awoken due to the familiar turn stating they were pulling into the dorms parking lot. Paige patted Azzi’s exposed waist softly and placed a few soft kisses on her neck. Even though Azzi was already up she let Paige go for a little longer, enjoying the silence and intimacy of the moment. Half of the team went in Aubrey’s car while the other half went in Caroline’s.

Paige, Azzi, Kk, and Allie sat in the back, and since their wasn’t enough room for all of them Azzi gladly sat on Paige’s lap due to her already being tired. “cmon mama” Paige said softly as Azzi finally lifted her head nodding softly as Paige she opened the door, letting her out first. Paige could tell that Azzi was visibly sleepy due to her rubbing her eyes and her wobbly posture. Once Paige fully got out of the car she went infront of Azzi and squatted a little. Azzi was a bit confused at first but quickly got the message as she put her legs on either side of Paiges back.

The older girl lifted up, making sure Azzi was secure on her back. Azzi on the other hand, was getting comfortable as she locked her feet around paige and layed her head in Paige’s neck, her slow breaths sending chills down the blondes spine. Once Paige felt Azzi was secure she began to walk towards the doors as the team followed around them.

“oh brother” Ice commented making everyone look at Paige and Azzi who were in their own world. “She was the one who wanted to go now she’s the first one sleep.” Carol said making everyone laugh. “Shhh, she’s sleeping.” Paige said sternly putting her finger up to her lip and scrunching her eyebrows.

“Yeah no shit” Ice said, before Paige could respond Kk budded in. “Not to much on my parents though, let them be happy!” The comment making Morgan Jolt her head back. “Your parents? Uhm, you must not know? They claimed me.” Paige sighed, a small smirk forming on her face. This was always an argument that had been formed daily, who was their favorite or who was their child. Paige didn’t mind it to much she liked the thought of her and Azzi being parents.

Once the elevators dinged the Team stepped out of it one by one. Paige was expecting them to go their separate ways but the team stayed behind her as she was unlocking the door, one had on Azzi’s thigh keeping her up. Paige raised an eyebrow and slowly turned around. “Yall good?” She said as everyone nodded. “Okay..” She said as she opened her door and they tried to follow her in. “Where yall going?” Paige said as they froze. “Well uh..” Aubrey said looking at Ice. “We were thinking about crashing here for a little? Get some snacks.. Like a movie night!” Ice said trying to sound persuading.

“I would love to but once she wakes up and sees all of you. i’m gonna get the most of it, and plus she’s sleepy and you guys don’t know how to be quiet.” Paige spoke like a kid scared to get in trouble with their mom.

“We promise we will! She won’t even know we’re here. And I was thinking a little fortnite?” Ice said making Paige’s smirk go full blown, she loved her some fortnite. “Fine, but if you guys get me in trouble, I swear.” Paige said as she opened her door so they could all come in.

As everyone got settled in the living room, some looking in the kitchen for snacks, Paige made her way into her room sitting backwards on the bed so she could lay Azzi down gentley. Azzi stirred a bit not feeling Paige’s warmth anymore, Paige quickly rubbed her waist a bit. “shhh go back to sleep i’m right here.” Her voice making Azzi slip back into the deep sleep she had gotten into. Paige looked at her for a bit, rubbing her cheek before kissing her temple softly.

Just as Paige was about to exit the room, the team bust in with snacks and covers. “bro, get out, she’s sleeping!” paige yell wispherd as the they looked at azzi then kept coming into the room. “You have a bigger tv. Promise we’ll be quiet P.” Paige leaned her head back and covered her face with her hands. If Azzi woke up she knew she would be frustrated. “Bro seriously let’s just go in the living ro-” Paige started but Ice interrupted. “Cmon P choose your character.” She said as paige saw the fortnite lobby on the tv. the team was settled on the floor with their snacks and covers from the living room covering them.

“Bro, ONE round then we’re going to the living room.” The blonde said as Ice chuckled “yeah yeah cmon.”

1:34 AM

“PAIGE BEHIND YOU, SHOOT SHOOT!” Kk screamed making Paige look at her and shush her, and in that split second the person behind paige shot her, making her get second place. “BRO!” paige screamed before immediately covering her mouth. Everyone looked back at Azzi who was now stirring awake, especially not feeling Paige by her side. Azzi opened one eye, scanning the room and could immediately tell what was going on. “Paige.” she said with her head on the pillow. “yeah baby?” Paige answers trying to act clueless of the obvious situation. “Come here.” Azzi said as paige stuttered out her next response.

“We were gonna play one mo-” Azzi didn’t even let her finish. “What?” Azzi said, she could’ve sworn Paige wasn’t talking back? “Nothing.” Paige quickly let out as she made her way to the bed. “Yes ma’am?” she said scratching the back of her head making the Sarah and Kk giggle at her nervousness. Azzi lifted the covers “Lay down.” Azzi said as paige sighed and got into bed, pulling Azzi into her chest as her fingers found her girlfriends back, tracing patterns.

She quickly felt watched as she looked up and was met with the teams eyes. “weirdos” she scoffed, now, raking her fingers through Azzi’s hair. “Tell them to get out.” Azzi said, her voice was sleepy but stren. “Mabye next time guys, Azzi’s kinda tired.” Paige said softly trying to sound convincing, making the team groan.

“Your so whipped dude.” Ice said as she laughed leaning into kk who was trying to hold it in. Paige made her lips into a straight line as the team started to pile out of the room. Paige still heard their little arguments about the child situation, making her chuckle a little. “your adopted!” was the last thing she heard before the door shut, leaving the two girls in complete silence.

It lasted for a few more minutes as Paige felt her eyes getting a little heavy, Azzi’s voice broke through the silence. “How did they even get here?” She asked making paige shake her head as she fully closed her eyes. “I was forced.”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

no doubt ── s. jy (sneak peek!)

update: this fic's been posted! click here to read <3

↳ summary ── struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you.

↳ pairing ── jake x f!reader, [ft. childhoodbestfriend!jungwon, bestfriends!enha]

↳ genre ── idol!jake, friends to lovers!au || fluff, angst, crack

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── hai everyone, the freaking turmoil & HOLD this fic has on me,,,has me writing til 8AM in the freaking morning because CLEARLY ─ i have unspoken issues . anyways here's a teaser of my recent hyperfixation that i'm sharing with the world. at the rate i'm writing this every night (& morning), it should be out soon (hopefully) :3 also this snippet i decided to include is my attempt at angst...i hope yall enjoy !

also send me an ask/comment if you'd like to be tagged !!! <3

snippet under the cut!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

“Y/N.” 

His voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of music and laughter seeping from the party you should've escaped from a long time ago. You stop in your tracks, swallowing hard before turning around.  

Jake stands a few feet away, his usual easy confidence replaced by something raw, almost broken. He looks disheveled, his hands clenching at his sides as though they're the only thing anchoring him.  

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice low but unsteady. 

You stomach twists, but you steel yourself, "What do you want, Jake?"  

You shift your weight and instinctively cross your arms, a defensive barrier between you and the boy you spent too long letting into your heart. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in them makes your resolve falter. 

He takes a hesitant step towards you before exhaling shakily, running a hand through his hair.  

“I—I messed up tonight. I didn’t mean to...," he trails off, his words fumbling, his eyes searching yours in desperation.  

"...to completely ignore me all night? Make me feel like nothing?" You finish for him, your quiet voice breaking despite your attempt to stay composed.  

"No. God, no. You're not nothing," he says quickly, his voice faltering on the last word. "Y/N, you matter so much to me."  

“Well it definitely didn't feel that way,” your voice is barely audible, but you finally look up at him, the hurt bubbling to the surface. “After everything you said—promised, everything we talked about…” 

"I know, I just—" he hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a tentative step closer, his movements slow and careful, like he's afraid you'll shatter if he gets too close. "I was nervous." 

"It’s been so long, and I didn’t know what to say, how to act. I wanted to get it right—to make it perfect—but instead, I just—" he stops, dragging another frustrated hand through his hair. His eyebrows knit together in that familiar way that once made your heart flutter, but now only adds to the ache in your chest. 

You let out a hollow laugh, the sound foreign even to your own ears, “Well, congratulations, Jake. You managed to mess it up anyway.” 

“Please,” he looks devastated, his hands trembling at his sides. “Y/N, please don’t think I don’t care about you. I do. More than you know. I just—I don't know how to do this. I panicked and I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."  

You look at him, your eyes stinging with unshed tears as you take a shaky breath, “Then why was...why was she all over you tonight? Why didn’t you stop her?” 

He falters, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your question, “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t,” you echo, the words spilling out in a rush now, each one cutting deeper. “I should've known. Let me guess, she wants to get back together, right?"  

Jake's silence is deafening, and it immediately answers your question. He opens this mouth, but nothing comes out. The way he looks at you—eyes wide and filled with regret, lips trembling as if searching for the right words—confirms everything you’re afraid of. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, a shaky breath escaping your lips—the sound caught somewhere between a sigh of realization and a choked sob. No matter how hard you try, the wall holding back your emotions cracks under the weight of it all. The doubts you've tried so hard to bury suddenly resurface, crashing over you suddenly, each one carrying the sting of every insecurity, every fear you’ve ever had about this moment, about him. Your chest feels tight, your heart splintering under the realization that everything you were afraid of might be true. 

"Jake, I can't do this," you whisper, shaking your head. "I can't be the person you lean on while you try to figure out what you want."  

"No, no—Y/N, I do know what I want," he pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to step closer. "And it’s you. Always been you, Y/N. Everything I said before—I meant it."  

His words hang heavy in the air, the faint echo of the party music filtering through the cracks in the door and into the quiet hallway. You look away, refusing to let him see your tears finally spilling over.  

"You promised," you let out softly. "You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You said you'd prove that I could trust you, that I didn't have to be scared. You knew I was worried, Jake. And you hurt me anyways."  

"And I swear I meant every word I said. I still do," Jake says, his voice desperate. He steps even closer, his hand reaching out and brushing yours, but you pull back before he can close the distance. "You have to believe me. Please, Y/N. You're the only one I care about."  

You shake your head again, the tears now freely slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts, "I don't know if I can believe that anymore, Jake. I wanted to, I really, really did. But tonight..."  

Jake’s face falls, the weight of your pain crashing into him all at once. His lips tremble as he struggles to hold himself together, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. This was the first time seeing you in so long, and this sight of you—broken because of him—cuts deeper than he thought possible. His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and pleading, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I—God, please. Please give me a chance.” 

You look at him—at the boy who's become your safe space —and all you feel is the ache in your heart.  

"I can't do this right now, Jake," you finally let out a deep breath and take a step back. "I think I just need space."  

The words hang in the air like a death sentence. His breath hitches as if your words physically hit him in face, "Y/N..." 

Your phone suddenly buzzes, a text from Jungwon letting you know he's outside. You glance down at it, then back at Jake. For a moment, you hesitate, your heart screaming at you to stay, to give him the chance he's begging for. But your head knows better. 

"I have to go," you murmur softly, turning away before the tears threaten to spill all over again. You force yourself to keep walking, fighting the overwhelming urge to look back—to let him pull you into his arms, where you wished so desperately you belonged.  

Frozen, Jake watches helplessly as you walk away, his chest tightening with every step you take. Everything feels like it's caving in, regret clawing at him the more he sees you walk further away. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but the words fail him, silenced by the weight of his own mistakes.  

The hallway falls into a haunting silence, broken only by the faint echo of your retreating steps, a cruel reminder of what he's just let slip away.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

not my usual style of light-hearted crack...but sum of the other parts are still very rom-commy bc im sucker for dat shtuff :3

let me know if you'd like to be tagged !

<3, addie

[leannswritings]

Desperately need another Seongje ff😈

TIME

Syn : after missing your boyfriend’s touch you take matters into your own hands..only to be caught by him.

Warning : NO PROOFREADING!!

smut (ofc) , sub?seungje , voyeurism, pillow riding, swearing, hitting

Word count : 1.6k

A/N : You ask and you shall receive. I’m obsessed with seongje.. my headcanon is that he’s a switch.. like it just feels right. Also its so hard to find fics where he isn’t a total creep , I know he’s a freak but ?!? so if you’re like me searching hopefully this helps… lemme know what yall think.. this was kinda rushed 😿

“See you later.”

The same old words you have heard over and over the past few weeks.

All you wanted was seongje next to you for more than a few minutes, which never happened as he only came back for a few to do random little things or shower before leaving through the door once again. Only giving you time for a couple of kisses, and nothing more. You couldn’t help but be upset, your personal time had become “union time”.

Being alone at night wasn’t something you enjoyed, especially as someone whose blood ran hot throughout it.

You laid on the bed with a pillow between your legs, scrolling through your phone waiting for that familiar sound of the door opening. Looking at the time you realized he may not be coming tonight as the time he usually does has passed. You didn’t know what consumed your mind more, the need to be touched or disappointment in that very moment. Your legs tightened around the pillow you had between your legs, your hips slowly starting to move. It didn’t take long before you moved from your side and repositioned yourself on top of pillow . Before you realized your mind had became hazed in lust, you only had one thing on your mind at the moment.

“Seongje..”

You softly moaned as you rubbed against the pillow. You didn’t know if it was due to how upset you had been for the past few days, but you felt more sensitive than usual. This small rub against yourself had given you more pleasure than usual. Of course it wouldn’t amount to the pleasure seongje would’ve given you in this moment, but it was better than nothing. The temperature in your lower body continued to rise, causing your hips to go in a faster and unstable motion.

You talked to yourself and called out seongje name as you hit and rode out your climax, Repeatedly saying his name over and over again. Maybe that’s why you never noticed him walk in, or stand there and watch you for the past few minutes. You probably would’ve never known if you haven’t heard clapping behind you.

“You really know how to put on a show. did you really miss me that much? Do you miss my touch..that much?”

He stood in the doorway, watching and analyzing your movements and face expressions as he spoke, also the way you reacted when you saw the obvious bulging. Your eyes lighting up like the sky on new years. You quickly got up stumbling from the bed, your legs weakened from your previous actions and forced yourself in his direction. When you reached him you didn’t know how to react, you desperately wanted him to touch you, but on the other hand you were pissed that he made you this desperate. He leaned in to kiss you only for you to reject it with a slap.

“Yes..but I’m not gonna let you touch me. Not yet.”

You grabbed the collar of his jacket, dragging him towards the bed, sitting down in front of him before pushing him down to his knees. You liked this look. You on the bed and seongje on his knees looking up at you with desperation in his eyes. It was new to you, he was usually the one in control. It was a surprise he didn’t try and take control by now he would been on top of you, but he just let whatever you were about to do happen. He followed your every movement with his eyes, watching you reach over the backscratcher on the bedside table.

“Don’t move. Just watch me.”

You placed the backscratcher next to you before you started to trace the outline of your body, giving him a painfully slow show. It didn’t take long for you to slightly lift up your shirt to reveal your bare lower half, slowly spreading your legs to give him a clear view of what he desired so badly. He moved his hand towards you in hope of touching you in that moment forgetting what you had said in the previous moment. You quickly picked up the backscratcher and hit his hand.

“I said don’t move”

A reminder.

Seongje seemed to be enjoying this more than you did, he enjoyed being tested, told what to do, and being hit by you. The pleasure was at a peak. He purposely moved around a few more times to get hit by you as you sat in front of him playing with yourself. The sight of him being hard and fighting against his pants really did something to you, he was really holding back on the thoughts to touch himself in front of you.

“I want you to wait, just like I waited for you… I want you to feel what I felt.”

At this rate he might cum through his pants, you really fit into a dominant role, he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time you would treat him like this, he started to wonder if he should ignore you more to get this type of reaction.

For the next few minutes you touched yourself in front of him, your goal wasn’t to cum or even please yourself it was to make him desperate and crave you even more, with the idea of something so close to him yet so untouchable. You removed your hands from yourself and just sat there for a minute looking, and contemplating what to do next. During that time your foot rubbed against his chest, moving downwards towards his crotch. Another reminder that in that moment he was below you in every shape and form. You slightly applied pressure to his crotch with your foot, causing him to move against it. In that moment you thought your teasing was enough, but that didn’t mean you wanted him on top of you right now.

“You want to make up for what you did? You want to fuck me don’t you? Quickly yes or no”

You knew he wouldn’t say no, but you asked anyways just to toy with him.

“Yes. Please.”

You stood up in front of him, once again grabbing him by the collar giving him an idea to stand up. You quickly made him strip and lay on his back, he, of course didn’t fight back one bit. You climbed on top of him, sitting on his stomach, His tip touching your butt. You hovered over his face, smiling at him before going for a kiss. The desperation really showed in the kiss, he reached out to put his hand in your hair just for it to be smacked away and moved above his head. Going down his neck, leaving hickeys where you could, making sure it was noticeable, before going back for another kiss. You broke away from the kiss. Looking back, you slightly rose your butt to position yourself onto his dick. As soon as you lined yourself up properly you plopped down without any warning, causing a groan to slip out of seungje’s mouth. Due to the height difference you couldn’t keep his hands held above his head so you held it in front of you, using it as some type of handle.

“Fuck. Wait.”

Seungje groaned out, the sight of your chest bouncing, the zero warning, and the random speeds you were going at was too much for his brain to process in such a short time. All he could do was watch you or watch the ceiling. His moans and groans were music to your ears, adding a cherry on top of your already sensitive whip cream. There was no set speed you were going at, now that the teasing was over, your goal changed, you now had the goal to please yourself unlike earlier. You moved his hands from on top of his stomach to your hips, giving him permission to hold you. He didn’t try to redirect your speed but he gripped your hips so hard you were sure it would leave a mark.

“What a loser, you’re about to cum aren’t you?”

His grip got tighter as he nodded, you were surprised that his grip could get tighter, at this point you weren’t sure if you’d be able to walk tomorrow due to the pain in your hips at the moment.

“Hold it, don’t cum until I do.”

“I don’t… I don’t th—“

“Just shut up and hold it.”

You were going crazy at this point, your speed picking up chasing that feeling you were oh so close too. All this bouncing was definitely going to have you hurting in the morning. The tightness on your hips, your breast bouncing up and down, and your body getting in shaken up? It was so much pain and pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to hit your climax, your hands pushing against his stomach to hold yourself up as you did. Your head almost falling backwards off your body as you looked up at the spinning ceiling.

Seungje followed quickly behind you, as it was taking everything in him to not do it earlier.

You both stayed in that position for a while, letting everything soak in.

————————————————————

Seungje and you cleaned up together.

As you showered you both talked about his unfair schedule and time that needed to be spend together. Of course he joked about ignoring you more so he can experience not being in charge for once again. You going along with it, joking about how funny it is to see a gang member being dominated in the bed. Seungje spent the rest of the night with you, sharing ideas and cigarettes.

[takes1]

Omg your Mattsun work just killed me 😫😫 your writing is amazing!!! I need a part 2 to see what will happen next? Does he actually like usss??

you're too sweet for mattsun p.2

thank you!!!!! this part two is a pretty wild idea i had, but i feel like it works. lmk what yall think :,) or if im just insane?

warnings. nsfw themes, explicit profession, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / angsty, sexy feel / college!au / jealous!mattsun / revenge trope / dancer!reader / complicated feelings / grinding / PDA / flirting / heavy petting / tohru oikawa is a hopeless bottom and hajime iwa is an overthinking virgin / 2.8k words / part one here.

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. shorter imagines

You were grateful that you didn't have Matsukawa's number.

He couldn't call, or text, to ask where you were for the next week of classes.

When you considered it for longer than a second, you figured that he wouldn't have done it anyway, but the delusion of forced space helped to make you feel less exploited.

He had no way of knowing that he was keeping you up and at that early class. You couldn't brave the walk by yourself. Knowing things would be different, you opted to take your free absences without hesitation.

"First call for booth 6. Sugar! They're yours," Your supervisor called from the entrance of the dressing room.

On the bright side, not attending your morning class gave you more time to rest for your part-time job.

You were typically stacked in the earlier hours of the night, so your call fit right in with the last of your mascara. College-aged guys, your smaller, cheaper demographic, weren't out as late as the regulars. The other girls were still lounging before they had to commit to getting done-up.

"Dunno how you do it, Sug'," Star chuckled at your little stumble as you fixed a heel strap, "You're always good to go at first-call."

She looked you over, nonjudgmental, but strict. She was the one to train you a few months ago and now she had taken the role of a mentor.

School didn't pay for itself.

This was the nicest gig around-- the older girls let you know that little fact right away; how lucky you were, how good you had it. You weren't a transfer, like many of them. Just a newbie with a short contract.

You grinned at the praise, eyes shining at her approval as she walked back to the couches.

The night hadn't kicked off yet, so you gave a quick check to the security cameras before you stepped onto the floor. It was a good, safe habit you had picked up.

Booth 6 had five customers. The one in the center was a very familiar face.

"Oh my gosh--," Your breath left you and did not return, "Ohhh- nonono, no..."

Work was a different world. Your world. He was not allowed to be here. He was allowed to be on campus - that's it.

"What is it?" Somebody called from the lounge.

"I- I know that guy," You called back, your worry now sounding ridiculous in your own ears when you said it out loud.

"Uh-ohhh! Ha-haaha--,"

"So what? I know half the guys that come in here."

Star came back, the only one who cared, but even as you pointed his face out to her, you knew there was no getting out of this. None of the other girls worked for undergraduate-level cash.

"Ex-boyfriend? What's the big deal?" She tilted her head at you.

"I know it sounds dumb," You winced, "But I had? Have? A huge crush on that dude, and he-- well..."

The dressing room was suspiciously quiet. Many ears were open, mouths were closed.

"He basically laughed at me and said I was 'too nice.'"

From the couch, shouts and screams ensued:

"What?!" Shared by many.

And, "He laughed at you?" Was the chief reason for concern.

Your quiet words had sparked a complete outrage, surprising you, because you weren't close with many other dancers besides the sparse few. It seemed rejection was a great rallier.

Another blunt warning from the door, "Ladies! We need a girl at booth 6 right now."

"Shut the fuck up, they can wait ONE minute."

"We're workin' on it- send a bottle girl, dumbass!"

Second-calls usually didn't spur a strong response, but this was an occasion.

Once again, you had to point out Matsukawa on the screen, and listen to a flurry of insults and mean-spirited jokes about him. Some were funny, but none of them made you feel good.

Star stood next to you, less impressed by your situation, patient and unfazed by the collective energy. But she saw how you still didn't feel supported. There was less anger on you than what would've been satisfying.

"He goes to school with you?" She asked, under the voices. The other girls were tearing into his outfit, pointing at him on the screen.

"He's in my history class."

There was a feint softening in her hard features, "When did this happen?"

You sighed, realizing you had wasted an entire week in your feelings, "Monday."

"And you haven't seen him since, right?"

You squinted at her tone, how it sounded crafty and light, and nodded.

"Here," She placed a hand on the back of your shoulders, "Come with me."

At first, you were scared she'd waltz you right out there and do something rash, but she stopped short at the door. It was to get away from the chatter. You could hear the music and feel the bass in your heels from the main floor.

You liked your job, as secretive as you were about it. It was fun, better than working fast food, or retail. Kept you feeling confident and active.

"If you let that boy intimidate you, in your element, when you're on that stage-- that makes you a joke. You might as well be working for the circus."

She stared forward, but you watched her, captivated.

"You like to dance, yeah?"

You nodded, enthusiastic, but still a little worried, "Y-eah."

"You still like him?"

A missed beat. You looked at the ground, then forward, then decided, "Yeah, I do."

"Then what's so scary about it?" She shrugged, "It's already different. He's here for a show. Go give'm one."

Star didn't linger to hear you out, to let you think on it, or argue. She just opened the door for you and trusted you could take something out the pep talk.

The lights were blinding, but only for a moment. Only for as long as it took to catch your breath, get yourself hyped, and into your work mindset.

Your song was on, and while you didn't necessarily believe it was fate, it was a little something extra to be profoundly grateful for.

You were grinning, and this time, it didn't fade as you rounded the back of the booth to say hello.

"Ooooohhhh my- god, wowwww..."

A pretty brunette sat at the corner, first to see you, quick to make you feel welcome.

"Hi there," You giggled at the way he sat forward for you.

The rest of them were an impressive pull of good-looking guys. Athletes, for sure. And tall, even sitting down. Matsukawa blended in so well that you were shocked you hadn't entertained the idea that he might have been on a team. He never talked about it, at least.

They had all been rowdy before you came around. Now, they were collectively slack-jawed, expectant but clearly new here, and getting their gluttonous fill of your tiny outfit.

You ran your hand through his extra-soft looking hair and didn't come up disappointed.

"What's your name?" You smiled down at him, picking his chin up from hip-level.

"Tohru," He breathed- a hitch on his exhale when you let him go with a light shove.

You held your hand out for the next one, "And you are?"

He had darker, spikier hair, close on the sides. He didn't meet your eyes, not once, and he practically whispered when he found his wits enough to take your hand, "Yutaro."

Poor little Yutaro stared at his palm after you let go, moving past Matsukawa entirely, to the fourth of their gang.

They all roared with laughter at your disinterest in their middleman. It gave you the feeling that none of them knew-- which was so much better than the alternative you'd replayed in your head. Maybe you weren't the only person Matsukawa didn't tell things to.

"Hajime," The strongest, most reliable looking one greeted you- too careful to look at only your face.

And, finally, Takahiro.

"I thought we weren't supposed to touch you?" He asked, an innocent enough tone through his words.

You flicked your wrist back before he could shake it, leaving him shocked and despondent, and turned on your heel to sit on your private stage.

"You're sooo right about that," You winked, a fake pout on your face as you lifted your legs up to turn around, rest your head on the panelling to watch him upside-down, "That was your only chance."

Generally, you didn't do much but flirt and laze around before you had an idea of what they were here for, how much they would pay you, what they liked the best. You enjoyed this position, heels kicking in the air, hands roaming the robust, cut-out straps on your body.

They all sat forward on their elbows -except for Matsukawa-, and though they were not right-side up, the view was immaculate.

"What are we supposed to call you?" Oikawa, the furthest away, sat on the edge of his seat.

You raised your brow, "Ohh, the bottle girl didn't tell you?"

Usually, that was part of their job to introduce you- but it must've gotten mixed up, or she caught wind of a potential switch.

Some very dumb, hesitant head shakes gave you a good laugh as you sat up smooth, rolling intentionally slow onto your tummy. You rested your chin on your knuckles.

It played out so well that you found yourself plumb in front of Matsukawa.

"Sugar -- because I'm so sweet."

The rest of his group loved it, repeating you, whistling-- he looked down at you, unimpressed, with an vague expression. You must have missed the initial and satisfying shock by entertaining the other company first.

Matsukawa bit the inside of his cheek, nostrils flared, eyes heavy-lidded as he leaned gradually forward like the rest of his friends.

His eyes were busy, but motionless, and dead-on yours. It could have been the turmoil of frustration. It could have been a heavy hurt. Maybe even a struggle of lust somewhere, or could he have missed you?

"Y'hear that, Iwa? Sugar," Tohru took a swig of his drink, then reached for his pocket.

He presented you with a generous few wads of cash.

It was a great way to break your concentration-- your eyes shined, flipping through the bills, listening attentively to his tipsy spiel.

"--Anyway, it's Iwa's birthday," He pointed to Hajime, "And we want him to have fun-- what will that get us?"

Fun. Birthday. You had danced plenty of times for occasions like that, for far less.

It was so much easier than you had built it up to be, upon first glance at the situation. You loved watching Matsukawa watch you. He didn't whistle, didn't say anything -even as his friends got drunker and bolder-, but he never looked away.

There was a long time that you expected him to get up and walk out the door because of how deep and still his frown was, practically carved onto his face. It never happened.

You were quick to learn that he was affectionately referred to as Mattsun.

"Can you do the splits?" Yutaro shook off the sting of a shot, wincing up at you.

You accepted a $50 and slid right into one. You had to laugh at how easy they were to impress.

"You think I would've gotten this job if I couldn't?" You joked, soaking in their playful cheers, the smell of fresh bills, the heavy aura you felt three feet away.

It was getting hard to look past him.

Sure, he had been picked on in the back for his 'unoriginal' style, but the other dancers were a tough crowd.

His dark shirt fit him well. He had on a nice leather jacket earlier for the rain, but it had been at his side for a while. His pants were a thick, expensive material, and not dissimilar to the ones he liked to wear around campus.

Despite his seemingly intentional stoicism, he was accepting any and all drinks that came his way. It was how his buddies were trying to 'cheer him up.'

So, you swung your legs back to the side, stood, and finally decided to get personal.

You straddled Matsukawa.

"Did you miss me?" You purred.

His jaw got tighter, his brow set in a struggle, nearly pained. He sat up straight and tall to meet you. He didn't touch, but he took his time looking at you up close, absorbed and broody.

"Is that a joke?" He admired you in an obvious, staggeringly pensive way. Like he could handle you.

You felt yourself blushing, despite dancing on him.

He didn't waste a second, but never rushed to speak, and didn't stutter, as you held his arms behind his head, "I'm not the one who's been ditching class."

Maybe you should have thought longer for a better opener.

You put a tiny bit of your weight on his lap as you moved.

It was a bratty, petty maneuver, because you couldn't argue with him. Not with the heat of his body so close to yours, not with his friends watching and hollering, not with how drunk you were on his calculated taste of attention.

And there it was, what you really wanted; his soft flinch.

One that brought his eyes down, interrupted his breathing, spurred the twitch of those strong arms under your too-loose grasp.

His head rolled in a somber, self-aware manner, thick neck flexing with a throaty and closed-mouthed groan.

"That's what I thought," You tried to spit it out like acid, but it sounded kinder with your uncontrollable giggle breaking in halfway through.

When you let his arms go, he kept them behind his head.

From here, you pulled that gold chain out from under his tight collar and fixed it, gentle, with a sigh.

You stared at the glimmer. He stared at how the lights danced so well off of your pretty face. He missed seeing the sun on you.

"Gold isn't your color," You muttered and slid off of him.

They made the session fly by, and you were feeling pretty energized by the time the club was in full occupancy.

Tohru motioned for you to come closer. The volume of the place had grown too much to try and yell from the side of the booth. You slid off of the stage and onto the main floor to hear him out.

His breath was sharp and spicy, like he had been sucking on Listerine strips between strong shots.

"How'much for a private dance?"

You rolled your eyes and snorted. Nobody had requested that with you, before. Again, most of your customers could barely afford entry.

Once again, your hand found its way back into his super-soft locks, this time craning his head so you could whisper without the chance of him trying to kiss you:

"You can't afford it."

Tohru's warm face lingered at the down when you let go. He was pliable and a little sweaty-- a dangerously good look on him.

He groaned and slumped back against the booth, "It's not for meee!"

You smiled at him, intrigued, and once again sat on your stage as he ruffled through his pockets and adjusted himself.

"This couldn't get'a birthday dance?"

He must've had at least the rest of your tuition in his hands. What the fuck was this guy's job? Was he not a student? He was the only one paying in hundreds.

You laughed, astounded, and unable to mask the shock of seeing so much money in person.

"Yeah! Iwa!!"

"Let's gooo!!"

The only person to look less excited than Iwa was Matsukawa. Everybody else made up for their lack of enthusiasm. Though, with the birthday boy, you could sense it was more uncertainty, if anything. With your messy acquaintance, it was always going to be more complicated.

You held Iwa very lightly by the hand, leading him to the private rooms, where it was a little quieter, a bit dimmer.

He eased when you whispered in his ear to reassure him that nothing explicit was going to happen.

Of course, you wanted to throw one last look to Matsukawa, but it would've been too obvious.

Matsukawa, on the other hand, didn't much care about the perception of his emotions- nor had he, for most of the night. He was profoundly taken with you and wasn't trying to hide it. It was only convenient now that he had a difficult demeanor to dissect.

The two of you walked out of sight, bringing him to stand and crane his neck around, chest swelled with hurt and worry.

But he took one look at the guards in the back, cursed, and planted himself down onto his seat with his face in his hands.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

♡ notes: can't promise a part 3, but it's getting crafted

♡ (i love getting inbox notifs) lmk what you thought: inbox

[snowflakeanrika]

A meeting 2

A meeting's continuance

WOAH MY FIRST POST WAS DAYS AGO AND 120+ NOTES??? BRO WAT ARE YALL STARVING THAT MUCH??? (I relate, I only started writing in Tumblr cuz there's not enough content of Mafioso and the gang here 🤑)

"Honey, I've made dinner! C'mon, everyone's waiting for you!" A familiar voice calls out. It sounds dim. Blurry. Like a dream.

That voice... Oh, how long you haven't heard that voice.

It feels like it's been ages.

Well, it has been ages.

"Coming, Mom!" A younger voice calls out. It sounds like...

You.

You when you were younger.

You when life was normal.

You when your life doesn't need to worry about taxes.

You when life was happy.

Where has life gone?

Everyone was around the dinner table.

Everyone was laughing. Joking. Happy.

You were happy, too.

Were.

Happiness doesn't come often in your adult years.

Only worry. Worried about the debts.

Worried about the Mafia on your ass.

Where has happiness gone?

"LEAVE! THIS FAMILY DOES NOT ACCEPT PEOPLE WHO WORK WITH THE MAFIA!" F̶a̴t̶h̵e̷r̸ says, pushing your body outside of the family gates.

"D̵A̶D̵, I DON'T WORK FOR THEM-!" You cried out, kneeling before them.

"My c̸h̷i̵l̵d̸... You've disappointed u̵s̶..." M̸o̸t̵h̵e̴r̸ says, crying on y̶o̵u̶r̴ ̴f̸a̶t̴h̷e̷r̸'̴s̸ shoulder. The man covered the woman's face, his eyes fully focused on the woman he had married.

"M̵̝̈Ỏ̶̘M̷̢̿! D̸̝̱͊A̸̞͕̾̋D̶̳̞̆!" Their child cried out as they closed the doors on them. Their shoulders dropped onto their sides, fat droplets of tears rolling down their face.

They don't want to hear their own child.

They don't care about their own child.

They don't admit that it's their child.

They don't want to recognise you as their child.

Now, why is that so?

What made them think you work for the Mafia?

WHY?

...

You know the reason. Don't you?

Rumours. Deciet. A cheap trick to the mind.

Or a stupid excuse to get you out of their sight.

Ah.

Now you understand...

This is where and when life and happiness flee.

WAKE UP.

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

Your body shifts slightly, your eyebrows furrow, cold sweat crawls down your forehead and onto your brows. Your hands are clenched together tightly as your body tenses up with each passing second.

You bit your bottom lip unconsciously, and a tiny, salty sweat from your eyes travelled down to your cheek as someone grabbed a handkerchief and started to gently dab the cloth onto where the tear and sweat rolled onto.

"How's their condition, Boss Man?" A man's blurred voice reaches your ears. Are you in another dream again?

Wait.

MAFIOSO?

You feel your body getting picked up and settled down on something soft. Your head rests upon something warm, and you can feel beats coming from it.

Beats...

HEARTBEATS?

"They're fine; just some minor injuries," Mafioso's voice responded to the young man as vibrations eminate from the surface your head is rested on.

Hell nah.

You know well that the young man's voice belongs to one of his henchmen.

Loud chatters and laughter are heard as your head gets clearer. Is the time right to open your eyes?

"B-Boss Man, they're not waking up...! Did we hit too hard?" The young man's voice gets more timid and quiet. What the heck is that henchman worried about? Isn't it his job to end your life under Mafioso's command?

"____ might be sleeping, Contractee. They do not get their required daily sleep. Besides, their pulse would be gone, and your head shall be off your body if that happens." Mafioso responded. Oh, Contractee?

Right, they go by their titles inside their little gang. But if Mafioso's the boss, why is he called 'Mafioso'?

The Contractee nervously chuckled. Maybe it's time to open your eyes?

You pretended to grumble and slowly let light into your soul's windows. (Ever heard of the saying 'eyes are the windows to the soul'? HAHAHA- I need to stop.)

First thing you see?

Mafioso's chest.

Bro.

Out of all the places he can put you on, it's on his stupid lap?

You tried to jump out of his lap. Keyword: tried. He had his arms around your waist when he sensed you were waking up.

"You're up." He said calmly. HUHHHHH????

The Contractee gasped in happiness as the loud chattering and laughter all stopped in one milisecond. The Contractee called all of Mafioso's henchmen, and all ran into your view as they observed your every move.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes to make sense of what was happening.

"Hello, Mx..." The Contractee said happily before getting a stern look from Mafioso, immediately getting the hint to shut up.

Mafioso signals him to give him medical supplies. The Contractee happily went off to grab it and hand it to Mafioso.

He starts to pack up your wounds. HE? MAFIOSO? THE MOST FEARED LEADER OF THE MAFIA? HELPING TO PACK UP YOUR WOUNDS?

While he takes care of your injuries, he said, "Tell 'em', one of you."

The Contractee looks around among his group members, and all were looking at him. Since he was present and was sent there under Mafioso's command, it's probably best if he said it himself.

"The woman you met two weeks ago is someone who owes us, The Mafia, debt. We promised to give her more time to deal with her debt before we come again to end her everything." The Contractee said.

"But what's this got to do with me?" You asked, your voice sore.

"Uh... Well, we can't tell you the reason yet... But that pendant is on you because it's our way to take our new members in! Look, I've got one too!" The Contractee said, about to show you his before a henchman, maybe the leader, stops him, saying that it's 'not the time'.

"You... ARE YOU ALL INSANE? JUST WHAT PURPOSE I SERVE INSIDE THIS PLACE THAT I NEED TO JOIN THE MAFIA?" You seethe in rage.

Mafioso just sighed and pressed the alcohol rub into one of your nasty wounds to shut you up. You hissed in pain as the henchmen looked around and acted like nothing happened. Wait, the Mafia only has 4 henchmen?

To make up for the deliberate attempt to cause pain to you, he gently pressed his lips onto your hand and continued to patch up your wounds.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang with a sweet chime.

"Oh! Pizza's here!" One of the henchmen says, 'Contractee' in cursive writing his hat wrote. Must be his title in the Mafia.

"You boys go and get it; I and ____ will catch up later." Mafioso says, gently wrapping up your wound with bandages.

"Ok!" The Contractee says, running downstairs along with the other boys.

"...uh..." You awkwardly look up to the man currently letting you sit on his lap. FORCED. NOT LET.

You can't see his eyes because of the stupid fedora casting a shadow on them. It's like if he isn't intimidating enough...

It's hot.

WAIT- WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?

You can feel that his eyes are on your wounds, patching them up with great care. Why is he doing this?

"Does this bunny have a staring problem, or...?" He spoke. You can feel his eyes on you now.

"NO. No. It's not what you think it is." You hurriedly say.

"Oh? I wasn't thinking of anything else other than a staring problem... What are you thinking?" He whispers. HELL NAH, NOW HE KNOWS YOUR WEIRD ASS HAS A CRUSH ON HIM.

"NOTHING. Absolutely nothing." You said to him. Bro, at this point, you're just gambling your life in this moment. Your ass is cooked, fried, baked, grilled, roasted, toasted, steamed-

"If you insist." He answers CALMLY.

This is NOT Mafioso.

WHO IS THIS CLONE?

You're supposed to be dead.

Limbs ripped apart, headless, heartless, brainless...

And yet, you're still here.

Everything is intact, and even SITTING ON HIS LAP.

He's not the person described like others did...

But... The police's findings and news can't be fake...

"Baby has something on their mind... Mind spilling the details?" Mafioso whispers into your ears. God, you can smell his cologne and a tinge of alcohol...

"Nothing for you to know... I... have a habit of... daydreaming?" You said, wait, no, it's more like a question you're asking yourself.

He merely chuckles at your weak attempt at lying. "I'm fully convinced."

At this point, you couldn't get any words out, to be honest. He gently lifts you up, carrying you in bridal style-

"NOnonono- Uh, I can walk myself! I don't want to trouble you." You said, trying to get the man to set you down.

"Bunny, you've twisted your ankle. Everyone knows this." He sighs, adjusting your pose to be more comfortable.

"What-? Why would you guys care?" You question.

"We care and mind a lot about you, ____." Mafioso calmly says. But...

"Why?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed.

"Shush. Don't ask too much." He ordered. You immediately shut up; you're not losing your life today.

He held you downstairs to where everyone is. Surprisingly, all the henchmen were so happy to see you both. Is this not an embarrassing moment?!

"____, Boss Man!" The Contractee jumped up on his spot before rushing to get a wheelchair in no time.

"This... is Contractee, as you know. Get used to all the henchmen." Mafioso spoke while setting you down onto the wheelchair.

"Nice to meet you, ____!" He happily greets you.

You wave and say a quiet hello to him before he pushes your wheelchair to meet the other henchmen.

"This is Consigliere, the one with his sword next to him and with a top hat on! He's our advisor to Boss Man!" The Contractee said, his smile brimming with joy. "He's the most logical person in our little group of henchmen."

Dang. Wait, WHY do you have to get used to this?

"That's Soldier. The one with a ushanka! He's the one that usually kills the debters, I'm sure you know!"

"The one that has sunglasses and is bald, he's our leader in this group. He leads us to do what Boss Man wants us to do!"

"And then there's me, Contractee! I basically just collect information on the people who have debt from us and also change some stuff or news articles online to lead suspicion away from us!"

"I... Why are you telling me this?" You asked, worried. "Aren't you afraid of me getting all of your information out to the public?"

The Contractee just giggles before everyone pulls out their weapons.

You can feel Mafioso's footsteps get closer to you while you can hear a gun getting loaded.

Mafioso aims it at your head, smiling sweetly.

"I'm afraid that bunny just has to deal with the consequences."

Yeah, never say anything about betrayal, you stupid moron...

"I WASN'T PLANNING TO-" You held your hands up in surrender.

After you said that, there was a brief moment of silence. Then, Mafioso started chuckling slowly, putting the gun away. Everyone now started to laugh. It wasn't even forced. THEY ARE LAUGHING.

"Silly bunny..." Mafioso laughs. Apparently, your claim and supposed vow are amusing to them. "Loosen up, baby."

"Here, pizza slice! Which one, pepperoni or just mozerella as toppings?" The Contractee asked you, giving you two plates holding the pizza slices.

"Uh... I..." You looked at both pizza slices. "I'm not hungry right now-"

"Mx. ____ hasn't eaten since last night! Here, just take both!" The Contractee smiles, sliding the mozzarella pizza onto the pepperoni pizza's plate and gives it to you.

Mafioso takes a seat on the couch nearest to you. Which is at the end of the couch.

"Eat up, darling. You're not going to starve here." He lifts the plate closer to your mouth.

...maybe it might not be bad to engage in the Mafia-?

[bloodycreaturee]

yall ever think about how mike probably felt like he was getting left behind by his friends because they were interested in girls (except for will but he didn't know that) and that's why he attached himself so much to el?

did you agree to this? her. joining our party. she's ruining the best night of the year (about max)

sound familiar?

you're ruining our party... you're destroying everything and for what? so you can swap spit with some stupid girl (about el)

it's not my fault you don't like girls

projection

and then he does the face he does when he's gonna lie about something

and he says

i mean what'd you think, really? that we were never gonna get girlfriends? that we were just gonna sit in my basement and play games for the rest of our lives?

PROJECTING AGAIN because mike, who even mentioned that? you've thought about it, haven't you, michael?

he was fully expecting will to say no. but NO will says YEAH I GUESS I DID. I REALLY DID

and mike is fucking flabbergasted because that's what he wants too, but he didn't let himself have it because he thought he wasn't allowed to want that

and that's the look of mike realizing he was wrong and he fucked up

[jamglii]

needy!nagi ིྀ | headcannons

incl. nagichi ≧▽≦

warnings: school!au, suggestive, fem reader, fluff ooc ( ? )

an's: idrk if this follows the theme of [ ooc trait x character ] yall, nagi is kinda need no?

needy!nagi who follows you around, everyyyywhere, like theres an invisible leash attached to your hand and his neck, you literally had to force him too leave when he tried following you into the bathroom

needy!nagi who calls for you to do even the littlest things, because somehow you 'do it better' or 'make it look easier'

needy!nagi who forgets all rules physical boundaries when he's near you, who has to hold you always and for as long as possible

needy!nagi who makes the biggest fuss when you have to leave the house without him. even if it's just a 5 minute outting from your house to the store he acts like your moving half way across the world { but you are he'd say }

needynagi who texts you all the time, 24/7 365 days a year is always blowing up your phone asking you and talking about the most redicoulus things

"did you tie your shoes before you went out ?"

"did you make sure too look both ways when crossing the street?"

and don't even get me started on when he's needy, needy

an obnoxious and repetitive beeping sounds on your alarm and you groan, twisting your body uncomfortably in the shared bed sheets before finally turning it off.

"seriously morning already..." you mumbled quietly, the darkness shrouding your thoughts.

i need to get ready for school.

and you did just that. at least you were going to before you realized there was another person in your bed, someone who felt very familiar.

oh no...

"nagi ???" you whisper-yelled it, patting his face lightly and turning the lamp on to get a clear veiw of your boyfriend.

"nagi wake up, your not supposed to be here" you sat up and began shakimg him this time.

nagi only groaned and wrapped his arms around his arms around your waist, nuzzling into the side of your thigh. "shhh, m' tryna sleep"

you shook your head and attempted to unwrap his hands from your body, with much struggle, he was surprising strong for being half asleep.

"nagi stop, nagi it's monday—a school day, you were supposed to be gone last night, why didn't your parents pick you up?"

"didnt tell them too"

"didnt tell them too...whadday mean didn't tell them too—im gonna get in trouble—wait a minute, nagi you didn't..."

"didnt what" his voice unmuffled as he moved his head to rest on your lap, his eyes staring directly at your own.

"you didnt lie to your parents and say you could stay for the whole week...did you?" you cupped his cheeks, studying his expression.

he didn't answer, "kiss me"

"nagi now is not the time—"

"kiss me pretty, please?"

you stared at him for a moment before leaning down, softly pressing your lips on his.

"good now?"

he looked dazed, and he was quiet so long you'd thought he didn't hear you. "almost"

your hands which had previously been rubbing soothing strokes across his face were quickly held behind your back.

he kissed your belly softly, relentlessly pressing butterflies into your body. "nagi that tickles" you giggled, trying to break free from his grasp.

"really? does it?" he murmured, rubbing his nose in the crevasse of your thigh.

"it does, now let go we have to get ready for school before my parents wake up"

he continued nuzzling your body however, then began slowly pushing his other hand against your chest to lean you back.

"i can make you feel alot more than tickling if you let me"

your cheeks felt hot. jeez, what has gotten into him !

"mmh, tempting but we cant and you know that—look it's already 6:09 we gotta g—OH!"

your stentence was cut off by the sensation of nagi feeling you through your shorts. his hands releasing your wrists long ago, he was now tugging at your pj's in hot desperation, probing his nose against your—

"nagi! what are you doing! school remember? we have to be there at 7"

"but do we reallyyyy..." nagi groaned, the vibrations sending shudders up your spine.

"y-yes, really, we have to be there, my parents own this house remember? not me"

"fine, but ill only go under one condition"

you sighed in preparation, for whatever rediculous reason was coming your way.

"and that is?"

"i get to stay over for the rest of the week AND, you sit on this right here..." he pointed too his mouth, and you squeezed your thighs together at the proposition.

"nagi, staying over defeats the purpose of you leaving, a-and i dont think that second option would be good for us either..."

"you wanna test to see?"

"i-i,—test and see what?"

"how bad our second option would be"

"..." he began moving in your silence, flipping your legs over his shoulders and kissing your belly once again.

"i'll take that as a yes"

an's: nagi is needy but somehow this still came out ooc, ( do i consider that a win or what...? )

[frommybedroom]

guys i’m fucking losing my mind.

why you may ask?

because i was obsessed with this production of spring awakening a few years ago, it popped into my head randomly today so i started watching it again, and GUESS WHOS PLAYING MELCHIOR??? THATS RIGHT ITS BRENT FUCKING COMER

Dear god I could write a whole essay on why I loved this performance

[seungfl0wer]

*To Much Kitten?*

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Pure Smut

Warning: Hyunjin is a cat turned human, Breeding kink, Creampie, Multiple orgasms, Anal, Oral (Both receiving), Toys, “Double stuffed”, Spanking, Slight Pillow Humping, Praise, Pet names (kitten is used a lot), not proofread. I think that’s all?

Yall wanted a part two to “Teach Me” so here it is. It’s pure smut I may have went over board with it not gonna lie- but hey enjoy.

Part One “Teach me”

-🩵

It’s been a week or two since the cute little cat you rescued got turned into a human. It was still so weird to you the thought at least. You two have been living well together you were teaching him all the human things and in return he was fucking you senseless at any time either of you needed.

Today you were at work longer than normal, you felt bad but even worse since Hyune was even clingier this morning usual. He didn’t want you to go he whined loudly as you peeled yourself off of him trying to leave. So on your way home you stopped at the store and grabbed him his favorite type of fish to surprise him.

Walking through the door to your place your eyes were met with a sinful sight. There was hyunjin bear naked fucking himself into a pillow on the couch. His hair was slicked back from all the sweat the noises he was making were enough to make your core ache for him. “Hyune” you said softly his head shot up from the couch desperate eyes staring you down. “You’re home!” He said quickly rushing to you.

He pressed himself against you pushing you against the door as he wrapped his arms around you “y/n-ie please- I’m- it hurts I need you” he said his voice cracking. “What do you mean it hurts?” You said his words confusing you. “Huh?” He said confused himself now “y/n what do you mean? You’re ovulating” he said with a whine “it’s putting me into basically a “heat” he said looking at you. “What does that mean?”

“It means because you are, you’re ready to breed. Which would be a heat for cats. Which in return makes my hormones need to breed you. We males don’t have a heat like females ours just makes us more hornier.” He rambled. Your mind was still a bit confused but more on the part where it hurt “but what hurts?” You asked feeling a bit worried for him “y/n- my cock- i haven’t been able to cum properly all day I need- it needs to be buried into you please-“ he was a mess his words running together.

“I-“ you started to say before he kissed you sucking on your tongue his body pressed against you humping your leg as he tried to take your shirt off. “Hyune I just got home” you said between breathes. He huffed looking up at you “y/n if I can’t get a release I’m going to go feral.” He said his voice almost a growl. The way he was switching from needy to almost dominate made it so hot. You wanted to fuck with him a little but you didn’t wanna hurt him either. You slowly ran your hand down to his unclothed cock and slowly pumped your hand up and down. Hyun letting out a low groan.

“Hmm what exactly happens if you go feral?” You hummed out stopping the movements already. “Y/n please-“ he said his voice getting stuck in his throat. “Maybe I’ll just let you go back to humping your pillow.” You teased moving your body away from him. “Y/n stop-“ he whined more but his demeanor had changed. “Stop what hmm?” You dared to tease back yet again. “Stop being such a brat.” He said making his way to you, he grabbed you by your waist pushing you down against the couch.

Your ass now up in the air, he quickly stripped you of your pants almost ripping them in the process. You were about to protest before he pushed your head down into the couch smacking your ass hard. “Stay” he growled. As he ran to grab something coming back just a few second later, you could hear a familiar sound. He had grabbed your vibrator from your drawer along with a dildo you had stashed.

He quickly put the vibrator under you pushing your hips so it would stay between your clit and the couch. You moaned out at the feeling before you heard him chuckle a bit “damn this dildo is so small compared to me.” He said bringing it to your face “suck it” he placed it on your lips looking up at him his eyes were so dark. You did as you were told opening your mouth. He quickly pushed it in moving it back and forth “yeah that’s it kitten suck it” he smirked looking down at you.

As he moved it in and out he could hear the moans muffled by the pretty blue cock in your mouth. He pulled it out after a few minutes “that’s my baby get it all wet so I can fill you with it” he said before moving back to your ass. He slowly pushed the dildo into your folds rewarding him with a moan from you. He pushed it in and out a couple times before coming back up to your face. “My turn kitten open that pretty little mouth of yours so I can fuck it good”

Without hesitation you did so, he took his time slowly pushing into your mouth before fucking it deep. He could feel you twirling your tongue around it taking him in so nicely. Moaning around him from all the sensations that were going on. The man above you grabbed the back of your head fucking into your mouth roughly. “Fuck- fuck-“ he repeated as he touched the back of your throat “my good girl just needed some cock to shut her up huh? Kitten had such an attitude but it all changes for my cock?” He teased.

His hips started to stutter as he felt his high coming releasing all of himself in the back of your throat making you choke a bit. He pulled out slowly seeing a long string of spit come off. The sight of you already so fucked out made him even hornier than he was. He lifted your head making you look at him “let’s see how many times I can cum in all your holes.” He chuckled moving towards your rear again. He let a good smack on your ass before biting your left cheek.

He kneeled down before moving you a bit to eat you out. You were already soaking wet you could feel your arousal dripping down your folds the sight of you could almost make him cum again. He quickly latched himself to your wet slits moving like a feral animal. As he did so he moved the dildo slowly but deeply into you. You were close. You were so fucking close. The feeling of it all had you seeing stars you could feel drool running down your cheek as you had your mouth opening moaning loudly.

He sucked harshly at your clit “cum for me kitten let me taste your sweetness.” He said picking up speed with the dildo. In seconds you were cumming on his tongue. He licked you clean of course. As he stood up behind you he let out a low chuckle “my kittens legs are shaking do you need me to stop?” He said as he removed the dildo placing his tip at your heat, rubbing it up and down. You shook your head no and as quickly as you did he was already pushing into you. He fucked hard a string of curse words left his mouth as he finally was buried inside you.

“Fuck- ah fuck y/n, I’m gonna-“ he choked out before cumming deep inside you. As he did he grabbed the vibrator turning it on higher. He could feel you clench hard around him. Your head swirling knowing full well you were gonna cum again. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you becoming harder again. God how does he just keep going? You wanted to cry out.

He let his finger find its way to your other little hole before spitting on it to lube it up. He pushed his finger into your ass stretching it out. You couldn’t take it both of your holes were being filled and your sensitive clit was being mercilessly toyed with. You basically screamed his name as you came hard around his cock “Hyune-“ you stuttered out “so sensitive.” Your words made him smile ear to ear. “Yeah kitten?” You nod in response not being able to put words together. “Well baby I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Before you knew it he had your hole stretched enough he pushed his cock slowly into you letting you adjust as he did. His movements were slow at first before he sped up his pace. As he fucked into your ass he had grabbed the dildo yet again. Pushing it deep into you, as he moved his hips so did the dildo. “Hyunjin!” You screamed out at the feeling of being double stuffed. Your brain was fried drool running down your mouth only being able to moan.

“Ah fuck y/n!” He groaned gripping your ass hard before pushing as far into as he could to release for the 3rd time. He quickly pulled out wiping his cock off hurriedly, he picked you up moving you to sit on his lap facing him as he pushed you back down on his cock. He wrapped your arms around him holding you close to him as he bounced you up and down. You were so fucked out at this point you couldn’t think straight.

“Is my kitten still here?” He said in a small teasing voice “or did I fuck her brains out?” He said pulling you back to look at him. “Am here. To- much” you said out breath airy. “To much kitten? You want me to stop?” He said slowing down his pace making your whine out “not yet- please- I-“ your words weren’t coming out “you want me to fill you one more time?” He said knowing exactly what you wanted. You nodded slowly making him smile “ok kitten let me fill you really good this time, you’ve let me breed you so well” he cood moving his hips again.

“My good girl, you’re so beautiful you know that?” He said softly placing soft kisses to your neck “you let me use you so good, gonna have my kittens.” He said moving his hand down to your clit, he moved it in just the right way bringing you ever so close to your high again. “My perfect kitten hmm. You’re all mine” he said softly against your neck. “My pretty kitten is close to cumming again this time I wanna cum together.” He said as he picked up his pace.

His thrusts were lazy at this point but he made sure you sunk down all the way on his cock so he could cum as deep in you as possible. “My good girl let me use all her holes hmm- let me fill them all so well.” His voice like butter against your ear. You could feel your climax coming it felt stronger this time a bit different. “Kitten- I’m-“ he said pushing you down fully on his cock. Free hand wrapping around you holding you in place, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as his cum shot deep into you. As he came so did your body shaking at the feeling “ah baby’s squirting on my cock- fuck- ah fuck.” He groaned out realizing you had indeed just squirted now realizing why it felt different.

“Fuck y/n” he said through deep breaths. You both sat there for awhile regaining brain functions. He softly kissed your shoulder where he had bit you rubbing your back. “You ok love?” He cood tilting your head to look at him. You nod slowly “I’m ok that was just-“ you said words trailing off “I’m sorry if I did to much my brain was in a feral mode and I-“ you cut him off “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done.” You said making him chuckle a bit. “How’d you learn half of that?” You asked looking up at him “well you see I just checked your history and found the videos you watch and studied them.” He admitted making your mouth drop.

“Hyune if I wasn’t so sensitive and hungry right now I’d say let’s go again.” You laughed making him laugh as well “I’d say fuck it but I’m starving. How about we eat, shower and come back to the topic?” He said kissing you lovingly. “Sounds great to me.” You replied back kissing him back.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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