#i have normal thoughts and feelings about this game

[puck-luck]

Congrats on 1,000! You deserve it times a million 💞 ! I was wondering if you could do Quinn, diamond, 26

thank you!!

"Want me to fill you up?"

Warnings: trying for a baby so... unprotected p in v wc: 630

You’ve been trying with Quinn for a couple of weeks now, ever since the party where you drunkenly held a baby and practically begged Quinn for a baby of your own. He’d been true to his word, fucking you bare just the next day, and he’d been insatiable ever since. Sex is almost a nightly occurrence when Quinn is home. When he’s not home, he always sends you a message about how he wishes he was there to fuck you until he’s dripping out of you. He’s been particularly persistent ever since Garland’s baby was born and he was named godfather– Quinn has been fucking you every chance he gets. You’re astonished that the two pregnancy tests you’ve taken so far– one for each week– have been negative. 

Quinn’s in the shower now, fresh out of practice. He’s got a game tomorrow night and they fly out in the morning, so you’re expecting him to fuck you well tonight. 

He doesn’t. He tells you that he’s just not feeling it right now, which you can understand. Sometimes you get like that, and as much as you want a baby, you’re not going to force Quinn to fuck you when he doesn’t want to. Instead, you have a nice dinner and you lay in bed together, lazily intertwining your legs and exchanging kisses. 

When you wake, Quinn’s already shuffling around the room, throwing clothes into a bag. You watch him, eyes hooded and blinking through the pull of sleep. He notices that you’re awake after a few minutes, looking up from the beanies in his hands. He was trying to decide which to wear with his suit, the navy one. You point at the cream colored one, then bring your hand to your mouth to stifle a yawn. Quinn puts the black beanie down, then places the cream one on top of his bag, and crawls back onto the bed. 

He hovers above you and kisses you good morning. “Thought you were going to sleep through me leaving,” he teases quietly, knowing that you’re still adjusting to being awake and would hate for him to speak at a normal volume when he’s so close. “I’ve got fifteen minutes before I have to leave. Want me to fill you up before I go? Maybe you’ll have a surprise for me when I get back, hm?”

You hum, shuffling out from under the covers. You touch the back of Quinn’s neck and kiss him. Your other hand pulls your panties to the side, baring your entrance to Quinn. You’ve taken to sleeping in just your panties and a sleep shirt, even though the weather is getting chillier. His easy access is worth the cold.

A ghost of a smile touches the corners of Quinn’s lips before he kisses your cheek. He works a hand into his pants, only unzipping them and shoving the fabric that left him covered to his knees. He strokes himself as you kiss, moving slowly. There’s no rush, really. You’ve had quickies that went much faster than 15 minutes, so neither of you are worried about taking too long.

Once Quinn is hard enough, he starts to press into you. The sensuality is enough to make your brain go fuzzy.Quinn’s gotten much more vocal since you’ve started fucking with a purpose– his little hums, grunts, and moans are like treasures when they fill your ears. “Oh,” he breathes when you clench down, lifting your left leg to notch it over his hip. He presses forward until his cock is fully engulfed by your pussy. He stays in place for a minute while he licks into your mouth. “Love you,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait for this to take. You’re going to make the prettiest babies for me.”

[jezebelblues]

live on tour (interlinked) | h.s | 2

pt 1, pt 2 (complete)

summary: we don't talk about it, it's something we don't do—cause once you go without it, nothing else will do.

cw: smut18+ unprotected (piv), degradation if u squint, choking, weed, alcohol, angst, sort of a slowburn idk, fem!reader, hs1rry

word count: approx 8.8k

| okay so here’s pt 2, smuts at the end LMFAO. sorry if u hate ! tumblr (right as i’m about to post) is like sorry too many words 🤪 so i had to SPLIT anyway

masterlist

Outside, rain drizzled. The show ended an hour ago, Harry was busy with greetings and photos. She stood in the doorway of the side exit, the breeze cool and carrying the scent of wet pavement and grass. 

A cigarette hung loosely between her fingers, stains of her lipstick kissed against the filter. She thought it’d quell her nausea, the pins and needles in her fingertips—but all it did was make her chest feel lighter. Everything else stayed. 

She’s heard the song a thousand times, rehearsals the entire summer, soundchecks, shows. But it was different this time. He pulled her to play with him for a reason, their unspoken games—it was a message. 

Her breath hitched as she jumped slightly, a gentle hand against her shoulder. It was Harry, a quiet greeting as he settled beside her, along the wall next to the door. His eyes swept over her face, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her eyes slightly glossed over. 

They had just stared at each other for a while, like their eyes held more words than their mouths could. She took her bottom lip between her teeth as she let the cigarette drift onto the gravel outside, watching the embers burn out under the rain. “Harry.” She sighed, her eyes soft, a frown on her lips. “This needs to stop.” 

He leaned his head against the cement wall, his gaze unwavering. “What does?”

She swallowed hard, shifting to lean into the opposite side of the door frame facing him, the heavy door still propped open. The wind danced in her hair, goosebumps cascading down her bare arms. “Whatever this is. Us. This is just work, Harry, I don’t get it.” 

“Just work?”

She paused, averting her eyes from his to glance back outside. There wasn’t much of a view, gravel, smooth pavement, a large chain-link fence that shook and sang in the wind. “I don’t get it. None of my other jobs have been like this. We tour, we play and it’s easy. Hell, half of the people on the Floyd revival were on coke and it was easier than this.” 

He studied her for a moment, his breaths heavy although he tried to lighten them. His eyebrows knit together, a glint of light shimmering along the edge of his pupil that painted him a tragic work of art. “Easy.” He managed, his voice ragged, as if it was a struggle to get the words out. “This isn’t a gig, or a studio session—we’re a band. A team. It isn’t supposed to be easy.”

She clenched her jaw, snapping her eyes back to his. “Don’t. It’s not about the band, it’s about you. You know exactly what you’re doing.” 

“And what’s that?”

“You get under my skin, Harry! And then you just fucking stay there and pick pick pick until you avoid me again.” 

“You do the same!” He was exasperated, his eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That night in Nashville. It was normal, it was easy.” He echoed the word, mocking. “And you just pushed it away. S’constantly a step fucking toward, two steps back.”

Her belly continued to twist, her frown deepening. “Cause I don’t know what the hell you want from me.”

“What I want—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair as his voice cracked slightly. “You think I know what I want? This isn’t exactly easy for me either, YN.”

The admission stunned her into silence, the weight of his words settling heavily between them.

For a moment, the anger in his eyes flickered into something else—something raw and vulnerable—but it disappeared just as quickly, replaced by his usual guarded expression. “You’re not the only one trying to figure this out.” 

The silence between them thickened, pressing down like the weight of the rain-soaked clouds above. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. What was there to say?

Harry pushed off the wall, his movements deliberate but tense, his eyes still locked on her. For a moment, it looked like he might step closer, might reach for her, but his hands stayed stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

“You don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice low and hoarse, like it hurt to say the words. “You think I’m trying to mess with you? I’m just—” He stopped, jaw tightening as he looked away, toward the gravel outside. His hand raked through his hair again, his frustration palpable.

She crossed her arms tighter, trying to shield herself from the chill in the air—or maybe from him. “Then what? What are you just, Harry? Because all I see is you dragging me into something I didn’t ask for, and then acting like I’m the one making it difficult.”

His head snapped back toward her, a spark of anger flaring in his eyes. “You think I wanted this? You think I planned for this?” He motioned vaguely between them, his voice rising just enough to make her flinch. “Do you know how easy it’d be for me to just… not? To let this all go?”

“Then why don’t you?” she shot back, her voice sharp as she straightened up, uncrossing her arms.

The question hung in the air like a dare, but Harry didn’t take it. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but whatever it was, he swallowed it down. Instead, he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked away again. “That’s the thing,” he muttered, his tone softer now, almost to himself. “I don’t know how.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking into her ribs. But she refused to let him see the crack in her armor. She turned her face toward the rain, her jaw clenched, her breaths slow and measured.

“Well, maybe you should figure it out,” she said, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “Because I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Harry didn’t respond right away. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep, uneven breath, his face unreadable as he started to turn. “Fine,” he said, the word clipped, bitter. “Guess I’ll figure it out.”

He didn’t look back as he walked down the narrow hallway, out to wherever he was going. 

She stayed frozen in the doorway, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her heart pounding too loud in the quiet. The door swung slightly with the wind, creaking on its hinges as she leaned against the frame.

She bit down hard on her lip, a sharp pang of regret bubbling up inside her, but she shoved it down, stuffing it into the same corner where all the other unspoken things between them lived.

The cigarette embers had long since faded, leaving only the faint smell of ash and rain.

Once you go without it, nothing else will do. 

-

The bassline thumped steadily, drowning out conversation and vibrating through the floor of the packed venue. Laughter spilled over from corners where small groups huddled close, their faces flushed with warmth and the buzz of alcohol. Fairy lights strung haphazardly along the ceiling flickered, giving the room an ethereal glow that blurred edges and softened harsh lines. It was October second, a free evening before they had to start gearing up for Toronto, and they had found themselves at this party—an impromptu gathering of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

They had a few days to rest before they geared up for the Toronto show.

YN moved through the throng like a thread of color in an otherwise monotone fabric. Her dress clung to her in all the right places, its silky material catching the light with every movement. Her makeup was immaculate, her lips a striking shade that dared anyone to look away. Heads turned as she passed, her heels clicking faintly against the hardwood floor beneath the relentless pulse of the music.

Across the room, Harry caught the glance of a mutual friend before his gaze settled on her. She hadn’t noticed him yet—or perhaps she was pretending not to. That had been their dynamic since the DC show—stolen glances, sharp words, and an undercurrent of something unresolved that simmered just below the surface. Tonight wasn’t much different. If she felt his eyes on her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she let herself be led toward the bar by a guy whose name she couldn’t quite recall but whose interest in her was overtly clear.

Leo—or maybe it was Geo— was tall, broad-shouldered, with a smooth voice and easy laugh. He leaned in close, brushing his fingers lightly against her arm as he spoke, and her lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It wasn’t that she found him unappealing—he was attractive enough, charming in a way that was disarming—but she was using him. His attention was a distraction, a convenient shield from the simmering tension she refused to address. She wasn’t about to let Harry consume her thoughts tonight.

“Another drink?” Leo–Geo asked, his voice warm against her ear.

She nodded, watching as he flagged down the bartender and ordered for her. When the drink came, he handed it to her, his fingers grazing hers deliberately. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into him, tilting her head to laugh at something he said. She wasn’t entirely listening, but it didn’t matter. She let him lead her to the edge of the dance floor, where the music was louder and the lights flashed in dizzying patterns.

His hands found her waist as they swayed together, the rhythm of the music guiding their movements. She felt his breath against her skin as he leaned in, his lips grazing the curve of her neck. It was easy, his touch, his attention. It dulled the edges of her thoughts, made the heat of Harry’s gaze on her back easier to ignore.

For a moment, she let herself get lost in it.

But Harry was watching. He stood near the edge of the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The muscles in his jaw worked as he watched her laugh at something the other man said, her hand brushing lightly against the stranger’s chest. His stomach twisted, anger and something else—something sharper, more possessive—flaring within him. He told himself to leave it alone, to let her do what she wanted. But then he saw them moving toward the door, her hand loosely clasped in the other man’s.

Something in him snapped.

He moved quickly, weaving through the crowd with single-minded determination. She didn’t see him coming, not until his hand closed around her arm in a firm grip.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was low, controlled, but there was no mistaking the anger in it.

She froze, her wide eyes meeting his for the first time all night. Her companion, caught off guard, let go of her hand and stepped back.

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows furrowed, her voice laced with irritation.

“I said, what the hell are you doing?” he repeated, his grip on her arm tightening slightly.

“Let go of me, Harry,” she snapped, tugging her arm free. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her a step closer, his green eyes boring into hers.

“Do you even know his name?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Her lips parted, but no answer came. She didn’t know his name, and they both knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry muttered, his jaw clenched. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

“Harry what—no!” Her voice was louder now, drawing a few curious glances from the people around them. “You don’t get to decide what I do.”

He only ignored her.

“Harry—”

“Go,” Harry said sharply, cutting her off as he turned his attention to the other man. “Now.”

The man hesitated, glancing between them before holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, mate. She’s all yours.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them alone in a small bubble of tension that felt ready to burst.

“Are you happy now?” she asked, her voice shaking with anger, eyes threatening to gloss over. 

“You were about t’leave with a stranger,” he said, his voice still low but tinged with frustration.

“So what if I was? What does it matter to you?”

“It—“ He paused, voice barely above a whisper. His hand finally dropped from her arm, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. “Forget it, YN.”

The music pounded around them, but neither of them moved. The weight of his words hung heavy between them, unspoken things simmering just below the surface. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

And then, abruptly, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the crowded room, her heart racing and her mind spinning.

After a while, she found her way back to the bar. YN perched on the edge of a high stool, her fingers wrapped around the cold glass of a freshly poured Midori Sour. She wasn’t sure why she kept ordering them—maybe because they were sweet enough to soften the edges of her mood. Maybe because the tang of melon lingered on her tongue in a way she liked. Or maybe because she knew it annoyed him.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry approaching, his strides long and purposeful, the faint clink of his rings catching her attention before anything else. He stopped beside her, leaning against the bar with an infuriating casualness, his profile sharp under the low-hanging lights.

“Another one of those?” he asked, his voice low but distinctly mocking. He gestured toward her drink with a tilt of his head. “You’ve got the palate of a teenager.”

YN didn’t even glance at him. “And you’ve got the personality of a Jack and Coke. Bitter, basic, and way too predictable.”

The bartender chuckled as he slid Harry’s drink across the counter. Harry’s lips twitched at the corners, not quite a smile but enough to tell her her barb had landed.

“Predictable, am I?” he asked, lifting his glass to his lips. His voice was softer now, dangerous in the way it dripped with quiet confidence. “At least I’m not clinging to a sugar high like I’m at prom.”

YN finally turned her head, meeting his gaze dead-on. Those green eyes of his were sharper than the whiskey he was sipping, and the way they pinned her in place made her chest tighten—not that she’d ever admit it.

“At least I’m not controlling your night to avoid saying what I really want to say,” she shot back, her voice steady but low, just for him.

Harry blinked, his brows raising slightly in surprise before he composed himself. He set his glass down on the counter, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And what exactly is it you think I’m hiding?”

The word love slid off his tongue like a taunt, curling around her like smoke. It wasn’t affectionate—it was a challenge, one that dared her to push back. And god, did she want to push back.

YN leaned in too, her face just close enough to his that she could smell the whiskey on his breath, warm and heady. “I think you’ve got a lot of things you don’t say out loud,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. “But don’t worry, Harry. I’m not dying to know.”

The tension between them was suffocating now, thick and electric. She saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers flexed against his glass like he was resisting the urge to reach for her instead. Her pulse hammered in her throat, each beat daring her to stay in this dangerous little game they’d started.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out,” Harry said finally, his voice like velvet lined with steel. “But you’re wrong, YN. Dead wrong.”

Her name on his lips was her undoing. She stood abruptly, grabbing her bag and tossing a few bills on the counter. “Why are you here again, Harry?” She muttered, “Your jealousy, which you refuse to admit, is insufferable. You ruined my night and I want to drink.”

Silence.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not doing this.” Her voice was low, laced in anger as she spun on her heel and headed toward the back of the bar where the restrooms were tucked away.

But of course, he followed.

She could hear him behind her, the weight of his footsteps matching the rhythm of her pounding heart. She ignored him, turning a tight corner.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he shouted, his voice low and gravelly. He was close—too close—and she could feel the heat radiating off him, suffusing her skin like a fever.

“Go away, Harry,” she said through clenched teeth, still nearing the bathroom doors that seemed to get farther and farther away with every step she took.

He stepped in front of her, one large step he made quickly and without effort. “Not until you tell me what your problem is,” he snapped. His hands smacking against the walls abruptly, caging her in. His chest was barely an inch from her back, and she could feel the way his breath hitched, like he was struggling to keep his composure.

YN whirled around, forcing him to step back just enough to meet her glare. “My problem?” she repeated, her voice sharp enough to cut. “My problem is you. You’ve been a thorn in my side since June, and I’m sick of it. Sick of the looks, the comments, the—”

“The what?” Harry interrupted, his voice rising. “The fact that I actually give a shit about what you’re doing? The fact that I care if you’re about to make a mistake?”

“A mistake?” she echoed, her eyes blazing. “What the hell do you care if I—”

“What was his name, YN?” He spit, an echo from earlier, nostrils flared and jaw tight. He already knew the answer, she didn’t know. 

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her anger to a low simmer. “Fuck you.”

They didn’t just hold each other’s gaze. They gripped it. Like a rope stretched between them, fraying under the strain. Her scoff sliced the moment clean, and she ducked under his arm, her stride sharp, deliberate, toward the bathroom door.

Her fingers curled around the knob, twisting it with the kind of force that spoke louder than words. The door swung open, her heels clicking against the tile, a precise rhythm against the muted bass thumping somewhere beyond the purple-painted walls. She spun, gripping the edge of the door, and shoved it back with all the fury her body could muster. But it didn’t slam. It hit something solid—a thud, then a jolt.

His hand, metal rings against wood.

The door ricocheted toward her before she even registered what had happened. He stepped in, the breadth of him filling the space, his palm swallowing the knob as he pushed it shut behind him. The twist of the lock was a gunshot in the silence, louder than the music bleeding through the cracks.

“Are you fucking serious?” Her voice was a hiss, low and venomous, the kind of sound that cut through everything. Her chest heaved, each breath shallow and sharp, the thin sheen of sweat glinting along her collarbone like glass shards catching the light.

The room was alive, though barely. A flickering bulb above them glowed warm and harsh, its glass casing distorting the light into fractured halos. Yet, there were blues bleeding from LED's in the corner, washing them in warmth and cobalt—fire and ice.

His gaze dragged down her body like he couldn’t stop himself, like she was a work of art, damning and divine all at once. She was something out of a fever dream—wild, furious, her beauty distorted by the tension in the air. “We didn’t get to finish.”

Her laugh came hard and bitter, her nostrils flaring as she raked her fingers through her hair. “Finish what? This?” She threw her hands out, exasperation dripping from every gesture. “This isn’t fucking worth it!”

But he wasn’t looking at her hands. His eyes were on her lips, her eyes, back to her lips—then lower. Her chest, rising and falling. Anger looked good on her, he thought. Anger looked good enough to ruin him. “You didn’t hear me,” he said, quieter this time.

He stepped closer, and the air between them shifted. Compressed. Heavy. Her back hit the wall before she realized she’d even moved, the cool tile shocking against the heat rolling off her skin. She pressed her palms flat against it as though the room was tilting, threatening to spill her out into some uncharted void.

He loomed over her—it was foreboding, yet, it made a heat pool between her thighs. 

“Get out.” She murmured, but her voice cracked under the weight of her own trembling breath. There was no steel in the words. Only rust.

“Say it like you mean it.” His voice was smoke, burning slow and low, roughened edges catching on her nerves. He was too close now, close enough that she could smell him—whiskey and spearmint, aftershave, and something deeper, earthier. The heat of him radiated against her skin.

Her eyes darted to his mouth, to the thin line of his jaw, then lower—to the silver chain around his neck. The pendant at the center gleamed faintly, catching the light like a drop of molten metal. It glimmered orange, blue—a ripple in the ocean bathed in harvest moon. “Harry—” she started, his name trembling on her lips.

But before she could say more, his mouth was on hers.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was raw, like barbed wire snapping, cutting deep and fast. She gasped against him, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt, twisting it into her fists as if to keep herself upright. His body molded into hers, chest to chest, hip to hip, the press of him heavy and solid and absolutely inescapable.

“I hate you,” she muttered, the words breaking into his mouth, dancing onto his tongue. Her fingers were already tugging at the buttons of his shirt, feverish and clumsy, her frustration bleeding into every movement.

He moaned into her, guttural, reverberating from the bottom of his throat. “I know.” He breathed, his lips brushing along her jaw, down her neck.

Her head tipped back, hitting the tile with a soft thud, her hands shoving his shirt open. Her fingers traced his chest, dragging across the heat of his skin. “Fuck—you’re an asshole.” She bit out, her voice shaking with something between anger and desperation.

His lips curved into a crooked smile, amusement tugging at the edges even as his breath hitched. “Keep going,” he urged, his words strained but teasing, his hands finding the curve of her waist. His grip was firm, grounding her as if the tension might otherwise consume them both.

Her mouth crashed against his again, this time harder, rougher. Her fingers curled into his hair, tugging like she wanted to hurt him, to punish him for every maddening, chaotic feeling he’d pulled out of her. Every shiver. Every breath. Every ache.

“I hate how much I want this,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with something raw and unfiltered.

“Yeah?” He sighed, his lips brushing hers, his voice cracked and ragged. He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking with hers, his gaze searing. “Hate me all you want, but you’re not stopping. Are you?”

Her only response was another kiss, pulling him closer, harder, until the line between them blurred. Until all the anger, the longing, the fire consuming them burned the world around them into ash.

Her fingers found his belt with a kind of determination that burned. Leather sliding through brass, sharp and deliberate. Her nails scraped his stomach as she pushed the belt free, her movements jerky, impatient. Every tug of her hands felt like a challenge, every drag of her fingers against his skin like she wanted to leave a mark.

"You think this is gonna fix anything?" she spat, her voice low and trembling, caught somewhere between anger and something that tasted sweeter. Bitter edges trying to cut through the heat swelling between them.

"Never said it would," he murmured, his voice rough, a rasp that settled low in her chest. His hands were already under her dress, sliding up the backs of her thighs. His grip was firm, too tight, bruising—like he was trying to make sure she wouldn't slip away. 

When he bunched the fabric over her hips, the sound of it pulling free from her skin filled the air between them.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" she bit out, her words sharp and breathless, her desire, her anger tearing through her. Her hands shoved his pants down, knuckles brushing against him in a way that made her stomach twist.

His laugh was dark, rasping out like a rough scrape of metal. "Says the one tearing my clothes off."

"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped, but her voice cracked, betraying her even as she glared up at him. "This doesn't mean anything."

"Sure, it doesn't." His words dripped with mockery—a blade under silk. His mouth brushed against her neck now, teeth grazing her skin. "Keep saying it, YN. You're real convincing."

Her head tipped back as he bit at her skin, the scrape of his teeth followed by the heat of his tongue. "You're so fucking–“ she started, but her words dissolved into a sharp gasp when his hand slid between her thighs, dragging over the thin barrier of lace that still clung to her.

"What was that?" He hummed, his tone laced with dark amusement, his fingers pressing into her just enough to make her hips roll forward, chasing him. "Didn't quite catch it."

"Don't," she managed, though her voice wavered, her breath catching as he moved against her again, more deliberate this time.

"Don't what?" he teased, his lips brushing her ear now, his free hand gripping her thigh and pulling it higher around his waist. His body pressed against hers, the hard line of him undeniable, the heat radiating off him making her skin burn. "Don't stop? Don't touch you?"

Her hands tangled in his hair, yanking hard enough to make him hiss through his teeth. "Don't act like you have the upper hand," she shot back, though her voice was shaking, her chest rising and falling against his as though the air between them had thinned.

His laugh rumbled against her skin, low and rough. "Petal, l've had the upper hand since the second you let me touch you."

"You're delusional," she snarled, but her body betrayed her again, arching into him as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, her cunt slick with arousal. A broken sound escaped her throat, and her nails dragged across his scalp.

"Yeah?" he breathed, his voice darker now, tinged with something ragged, unsteady. His lips caught the corner of her jaw, moving toward her mouth but stopping just short. "Then why are you shaking?"

"God, you're insufferable."

"And you're not going anywhere.” Harry's hands found her waist with the kind of grip that could bruise, his fingers digging in as he spun her around without warning. The breath caught in her throat as her body collided with the edge of the sink counter, her palms bracing against the cool marble. 

She caught his eyes in the mirror, dark and feral, locked on her like she was prey.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice low and rough, like gravel scraping the edges of his throat. His hands moved to her hips, holding her still as he pressed himself against her. The solid heat of him burned through the fabric separating them, and she bit down hard on her lip to stop the sound threatening to escape. "Desperate for it, huh?”

"No.” she quipped, but her voice wasn't as sharp as she wanted it to be. Her reflection gave her away—her lips parted, her chest heaving, her thighs trembling just enough to notice. "You're so goddamn cocky. It's disgusting."

He ignored her, or maybe he loved it—she couldn't tell. His hands left her hips briefly, his fingers moving to his slacks, shoving them all the way down in a rough, impatient motion. The sound of the fabric brushing against his legs filled the space between them, quick and deliberate.

Harry's hand slid up her front, rough but with ease, fingers curling under her chin. His grip was firm, enough to keep her still, his thumb brushing just once over the edge of her jaw before tilting her head up. The mirror stared back at her, unforgiving and vivid, and his chest pressed hard against her back, pinning her in place. "Eyes up," he muttered, low and commanding, his breath hot against the side of her neck. 

His fingers flexed under her chin, urging her gaze to meet their reflection. "You're gonna watch, yeah? Gonna see exactly what I do to you."

She didn't answer—couldn't. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her body shivered under his touch.

His free hand slid lower, over her stomach, down between her thighs, where his fingers paused, resting just above where she needed him most.

He tutted, staring her reflection down. "Dripping mess already." He smiled, slow and wicked, his lips brushing her ear. "You think that guy could do this to you? Hm? Think he could get you this wet?"

"Shut up," she bit out, though her voice lacked conviction, trembling just like the rest of her. Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white against the cool marble, desperate for something solid to hold on to.

Harry's laugh was dark, rich, vibrating against her back. "That's not a no.” He drawled, dragging his fingers down, brushing over her slick folds in a featherlight touch that made her legs shake. "What is it, then? You just don't wanna admit it?"

"Admit what?" she shook, her tone sharp, though her hips betrayed her by rolling forward, chasing his hand.

"That no one else could make y’feel like this." His fingers pressed in harder now, slow and teasing as they circled her clit. His other hand kept her chin steady, forcing her to watch as his fingers moved, dragging against her in slow, maddening circles. "Look at you, YN. Fucking dripping for me. You see that?"

Her eyes flicked to the mirror, catching the way his hand disappeared between her thighs, the glint of wetness coating his fingers as they moved. Her cheeks flushed hot, but she couldn't tear her gaze away, her body betraying her with every soft sound slipping from her lips.

"Harry—“ she gasped, but her voice broke into a moan as he pressed his fingers harder, rolling them against her with deliberate pressure.

"There she is," he smiled, his tone mocking but warm, like he'd been waiting for her to break. "That's it. Don't hold back. I want you t’hear yourself, yeah? Want to know what y’sound like when it's me making you fall apart."

Her hands shook against the counter, nails digging into the marble as his fingers slowed again, agonizingly teasing. Her body jerked, desperate for more, and he smiled, smug and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

"H, please–“ she whined, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"Please, what?" he tutted, his voice dropping lower, rougher. His fingers dragged down, slipping inside her cunt just enough to make her gasp, then pulling out again. "Use your words, YN. Tell me what y’need."

"I hate you," she muttered, but it sounded hollow, the tremble in her voice giving her away entirely.

"Not what I asked," he growled, and his teeth scraped against the curve of her shoulder, a sharp bite that made her head snap back. His fingers pressed into her again, this time deeper, curling just right, and a loud moan broke free from her chest, her body arching against him.

"Look at that," he whispered, his hand still steady on her chin, holding her in place. "Look at you, petal. Such a pretty little slut for me." His thumb brushed over her clit now, slow but deliberate, and her hips rocked into him, chasing every movement. "You like watching, don't you? Like seeing what I do t’you."

Her only answer was another moan, louder this time, her lips parting as her head fell forward—but his hand caught her, tilting her chin back up. "No," he murmured, soft but firm. "Keep watching."

Her reflection burned into her vision—the way her mouth hung open, her cheeks flushed and glowing, her body pressed tight against his. The sight of his fingers moving, disappearing into her before dragging back out, glistening with her arousal.

"Good girl.” He breathed, his voice rough now, almost reverent. His free hand slid to her hip, holding her steady as he shifted behind her, his body pressing closer. "Now, keep your eyes on me. I'm not done with you yet."

Harry's fingers slid out of her slowly, teasing the slick heat between her thighs, a deliberate rhythm that left her trembling. The pressure was enough to keep her on edge, never enough to tip her over.

Every moan she tried to swallow only fueled him, and he made sure she knew it. "Fuck, look at you," he muttered, his voice a low rasp against her ear. "Falling apart on my fingers, and I haven't even fucked you yet.“

"Shut up," she breathed, but the bite in her tone was fading, her resolve crumbling with every slow, maddening drag of his fingers. Her thighs quivered, her knees barely holding her upright, and her hands gripped the edge of the sink like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Thought so," he said, smug and soft, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a wicked grin. His thumb circled her clit, slow and firm, drawing a whimper from her lips she couldn't hold back. "No one else knows how to ruin you, do they?"

Her body jerked against him, hips pressing into his hand despite the defiance still burning in her eyes. She wanted to tell him off, to push him away, but her voice broke every time she tried, each sound melting into a moan.

"Thought you were tougher than this," he taunted, his breath hot against her neck, his chest firm against her back. "Guess I was wrong. Just a mess for me, aren't you?"

Her head tipped forward, a choked sound escaping her throat, but his hand was there again, his fingers curling under her chin, tilting her face up to meet the mirror. "Uh-uh," he snapped. "Don’t let me see you do that again.” 

Her reflection was a blur of flushed skin and trembling limbs. Her lips were parted, swollen and wet, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.

His chest, exposed by the open shirt still hanging from his shoulders, pressed against her back, radiating heat. The sight of his hand moving between her legs, glistening with her arousal, was almost too much to bear.

"Harry—" she gasped, her voice cracking, her fingers gripping the sink harder, her knuckles white against the marble.

"Say my name again," he growled, his tone dark and dangerous, his fingers pressing deeper, drawing a broken moan from her lips. "Go on, petal. Let’s hear it.”

Just as her hips bucked into his hand, chasing the pressure, he pulled his fingers away, leaving her empty and trembling. She let out a frustrated whimper, her nails biting into the counter's edge, but before she could snap at him, his hand slid to her throat, curling around it in one firm, possessive grip.

"Patience,” he murmured, though his tone dripped with mockery, his lips grazing the curve of her jaw as he pulled her tighter against him. "Want it so bad? I'll give it to you, but you better fucking take it."

She felt him behind her, his hard cock pressing insistently against her, the rough fabric of his boxers catching on her skin before she shoved them down. The anticipation coiled tight in her stomach, her breath hitching as he pushed them down just enough to free himself.

His free hand guided himself to her, dragging the head of his cock along her slick folds, slow and deliberate, just to make her squirm. He laughed when her hips rolled back against him, desperate for more.

"So fucking needy. Bet you'd beg for it if I made you."

She gasped, her voice shaking as her body pressed into his.

The words caught in her throat, tangled with the moan that escaped when he finally moved, thrusting into her with one hard, unrelenting motion. A cry tore from her lips, loud and unrestrained, her body arching against him as he filled her completely. He groaned low in her ear, his hand on her throat steadying her, his other hand gripping her hip so tightly it felt like he was branding her.

The stretch was slow, deliberate, the sharpness of it stealing the breath from her lungs as he filled her inch by inch. “So fucking tight—y’feel that? How perfect y’are for me?”

Her nails scratched against the smooth marble as he moved, each thrust deep and deliberate, pulling sounds from her she couldn't control. Her body arched into him, her head tipping back against his shoulder, her resolve finally shattering. "God, you're so fucking good like this," he rasped, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Taking me so well. Look at yourself, angel. Look how fucking gorgeous y’are right now."

Her eyes fluttered open, catching their reflection again—her body against his, his shirt hanging loose on his frame, his hands commanding her as though she was his entirely. The sight burned into her, sending heat pooling low in her belly, her thighs trembling as he kept pushing her further and further.

And despite everything—her anger, her pride, her sharp tongue—she couldn't hold back the moans spilling from her lips, louder now, desperate and broken, as her body gave in to him completely.

Harry didn't ease up, not for a second. Each thrust was deep, rough, his grip on her hips bruising as he yanked her back into him, forcing her to take every inch. The slap of skin on skin echoed in the small room, mingling with her ragged breaths and broken moans, her body arching under his hands like it was built for this, for him.

"Love this cock, don’t you?" he growled, his voice gravel and heat, his chest pressing harder into her back. "Like how I fucking ruin you?"

"Please," she bit out, her voice sharp, defiant, even as it fell out as a moan. Her fingers clawed at the sink counter, nails scratching the smooth surface as her legs quivered beneath her. But still, she smirked, tilting her head just enough to catch his reflection in the mirror. "I’ve been fucked harder.” 

Harry's laugh was low, a sound that rolled through her chest. "You're really gonna start with that?" he grunted, his voice a rasp of rough edges and heat. His hand slid up her back, the weight of it pushing her down until her cheek brushed the counter. The angle shifted, sharper now, and when he thrust again, a cry ripped from her lips before she could choke it back.

"And there it is," he moaned, his tone mocking, pleased. "That shut you up quick, didn't it?"

But she didn't give in. She never did. Her smirk twisted into something sharper, her breath coming in uneven bursts as she rolled her hips back against him just to prove she could. "Yeah," she slurred, her voice thick, daring. "What a waste–“ she paused, a moan emitting from the top of her throat. “–of a cock if–“ another pause, “if–if you fuck like this.”

His thrusts faltered, just for a moment—a slip that was more telling than anything he could've said. She'd gotten to him, and the flash of frustration in his eyes was enough to make her smirk widen. 

"You just don't know when to shut that mouth, do you?" he snarled, his voice dripping with tension as he stilled entirely, his chest heaving against her back.

"Guess not," she shot back, her tone cutting despite the quiver in her thighs. "Maybe you're not man enough to–“

Before she could finish, his hand left her back, gripping her throat as he yanked her back up toward his chest again. He found her jaw with a force that made her gasp. His grip was firm, commanding, as his fingers pressed into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open.

"Open," he ordered, his tone low and unrelenting, the kind that left no room for argument. When she hesitated—just for a second—his grip tightened, his gaze locking hers in the mirror. "I said open."

Her lips parted, her glare defiant even as she obeyed. 

"See? You do listen," he muttered, his lips curving into a wicked grin. His index and middle finger slid past her lips, pressing down hard on her tongue. Her eyes widened slightly, a muffled protest bubbling in her throat, but he just smirked. "That's better. Quiet suits you, angel."

Her teeth grazed his knuckles, her tongue squirming under the weight of his fingers, but she couldn't pull away—not while he still held her jaw firmly in place. His hips moved again, hard and unforgiving, each thrust making her body jerk forward against the sink. 

He moaned, watching their reflection like it was some kind of twisted masterpiece. "Still trying t’fight me, even now. Stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

She glared at him in the mirror, her teeth biting down lightly on his fingers just to prove she still could. "Go on," he sighed, his tone amused as his fingers pressed down harder, making her gag slightly. "Bite me. Won't change a damn thing.”

Her body betrayed her-again. Her moans, muffled by his hand, spilled out in broken fragments, her hips pushing back to meet his thrusts even as her mind screamed at her to resist. The tears stinging her eyes weren't from pain, but from the overwhelming heat building low in her belly, threatening to swallow her whole.

He grunted, his breath hot against her ear as his fingers slid from her mouth, wet and slick—a mess of whimpers and moans escaping with it. "That's what you sound like when I've got y’completely undone. Maybe next time, think twice before y’run your mouth."

Her lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but it never made it past her lips. Not with the way he pulled her against him, harder, faster, his hand returning to her throat, keeping her flush against his chest.

Her hands left the edge of the sink, trembling as they reached up to find him. She gripped his forearm, her nails digging into his skin, desperate to feel the solid strength beneath her fingers. Her body jolted with every thrust, her movements uncoordinated, but her claws pressed hard enough to leave marks she knew he'd see tomorrow.

Harry didn't flinch. If anything, her desperation only made him smirk. His hand on her throat stayed steady, holding her firm, keeping her close. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the coiled strength under her palms, and she knew he wouldn't drop her. No matter how rough he got, no matter how far he pushed, he had her.

He growled, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice as rough as the pace of his hips slamming into her. "You begging for more?"

Her nails dragged down his forearm, leaving a trail of red crescents in their wake. She gasped, head tipping back against his shoulder, her teeth catching her bottom lip as a moan slipped free before she could stop it. "You'll tire out before I do."

His grip on her throat tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to make her feel it, to keep her grounded against him. His other hand slid down her stomach, fingers pressing between her thighs again, circling her clit.

"Feel that?" he muttered, dragging his fingers in slow, deliberate circles, contrasting with the brutal rhythm of his hips. "That's not me getting tired, petal. That's me making sure you'll remember this tomorrow."

Her nails clawed deeper into his forearm, and her hips bucked forward, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation only to slam back into him. Her mind was fogged with heat, her body trembling under the dual assault of his fingers and the relentless thrusts that sent shocks up her spine.

"Fuck, Harry," she whimpered, her voice breaking in a way she hated, in a way he loved.

"That's it," he grunted, almost tenderly, though his actions were anything but. His lips brushed her temple, a cruel contrast to the way he dragged her closer to the edge.

Her grip on his forearm tightened, her nails biting into his skin hard enough to draw a hiss from his lips. But he didn't pull back. He wouldn't. His hold stayed firm, steady, a constant against the chaos he was dragging her through.

"You're so fucking close," he growled, his voice dark and ragged, his lips kissing her temple.

Her head fell further into his shoulder, her lips parted in a choked moan. The mirror showed everything—the way her body arched, her dress bunched high around her hips, his hand between her thighs. The sight of his fingers working her, his other hand wrapped firm around her throat, holding her steady as he pounded into her, was too much. It was filthy, mesmerizing. It was them.

"You're beautiful like this," he muttered, his breath hot against her cheek, his voice shaking with the effort to hold himself back. "Fucking perfect.”

Her hands clawed at his forearm, her nails raking over his skin as her body tensed, her thighs quivering against his. A sharp cry tore from her lips, unrestrained, as the tension inside her snapped all at once, her release washing over her in waves.

He slowed his movements just enough to drag it out, his fingers never stopping. His thrusts turned deep, deliberate, milking every last tremor from her body. "Good girl—just like that."

Her breath came in short, broken gasps, her body slackening in his arms as her hands slipped from his forearm to brace herself against the sink again. But Harry wasn't done—not yet.

His hand slid from her neck, resting briefly on her back to steady her as he pulled out. His release was a low growl, heavy with restraint, as he bent her forward over the sink again, her cheek pressing against the cool marble.

His hands tugged the bunched fabric of her dress, pushing it higher until it gathered at the small of her back.

She heard the wet sound of his hand stroking himself, the heat of him close enough to feel but just out of reach. He cursed under his breath, his voice rough and raw, his pace quickening as his own release built.

"Fuck, look at you," he muttered, his eyes glued to her reflection. His free hand slid down her back, his touch possessive, reverent. 

The first hot spurt of his release hit the small of her back, a low groan tearing from his throat as he finished, his hand working himself through the aftershocks. He stayed there for a moment, his breath ragged, his chest heaving, the sight of her still bent over the sink keeping him rooted.

Harry let out a long exhale, his hand sliding up her spine in a firm, grounding touch as he leaned over her, brushing his lips against her shoulder.

The air felt thick now, heavy with the remnants of what just happened. The muffled bass of the music outside thumped distantly, but the bathroom was silent aside from their labored breaths. Neither of them spoke.

Harry stepped back, his hands dragging over her hips as if reluctant to let her go, before he turned his attention to himself. He pulled his slacks back up, the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet, followed by the faint clink of his belt as he buckled it.

She stayed bent over the sink for a moment longer, her forehead pressed against the cool surface, her chest heaving as she tried to steady herself. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her back, but she didn't dare look up. Not yet.

Harry moved to the paper towel dispenser, yanking a mess of them free without a word. He returned to her, his footsteps deliberate, and she startled slightly at the first cool touch of the towel against her skin. He didn't say anything as he wiped her clean, his movements uncharacteristically gentle now, precise, careful, like he was undoing what had been rough and unforgiving moments ago.

When he finished, he tossed the crumpled towels into the trash. His hands returned to her thighs, sliding the lace of her panties back up, his fingers brushing against her skin as he smoothed them into place. He let his fingers linger there for a moment, his thumbs grazing the red marks he'd left behind on her hips. 

Her thighs bore the shape of his hands, faint but unmistakable, and when she finally straightened and caught herself in the mirror, she saw the full extent of it. Her skin was marked—her throat faintly bruised from his grip, hickeys scattered along her neck and collarbone like splashes of color against her flushed skin. The swell of her hips ached where his fingers had dug in, and she knew the prints he'd left would bloom darker by morning.

The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful. It was thick, suffocating, a tension neither of them knew how to cut. Harry leaned against the wall like it was holding him up, his head tilted back, his shirt hanging open, and his chest still heaving like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. The air felt different now—charged and heavy, yet hollow at the same time.

She stared at him for a moment, at the way his jaw was clenched tight, his gaze fixed somewhere else. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something quieter, something guarded. He didn’t move to fix his shirt, didn’t even glance at the mirror to see what a wreck he looked like.

She didn’t think before stepping forward, her hands finding the loose edges of his shirt. His eyes flicked down to her, dark and unreadable, but he didn’t stop her. She tugged the fabric into place, smoothing it over his shoulders before starting on the buttons, working her way down.

Her fingers brushed against his skin, still warm from her touch, but she didn’t let herself think about it—couldn’t. The weight of what they’d just done hung between them, heavy and unspoken, something that felt too big, too raw to touch.

He stayed still, watching her, his arms limp at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to move. Like touching her again might unravel everything.

She didn’t dare look at him, her gaze focused on her hands as she reached the last button. Her fingers trembled as she smoothed the fabric flat, brushing out the wrinkles before finally stepping back.

They didn’t speak.

They wouldn’t speak.

It was something they didn’t do—not about this.

Her throat felt tight, her chest heavy, her pulse still racing from the way he’d made her feel. She smoothed her hands over her dress again, though it was already straight. The mirror behind her caught their reflection—two people standing too close but pretending the distance was enough.

Her lips parted, maybe to say something, maybe to breathe, but nothing came out. She glanced up, catching his gaze for the briefest second before dropping it again.

His chest rose and fell in uneven beats, and when he finally pushed off the wall, his fingers brushing through his hair, he let out a long, shaky exhale.

We don’t talk about it.

The words sunk into the hollow space between them like a quiet truth neither of them would ever admit out loud. 

It’s something we don’t do.

Because if they did—if they said it, defined it, made it real—there’d be no going back.

And that terrified her almost as much as the thought of losing this, losing him.

Harry moved past her, his shoulder brushing hers as he reached for the door. He hesitated for a moment, his hand on the handle, his head tipping forward as though he might say something. But he didn’t.

She watched him go, her stomach twisting in ways she couldn’t untangle.

Once you go without it, nothing else will do.

[yiichan]

I'd love to see an almost inverse version of effortlessly- where chan (feels odd to say his name in this context lol) is a submissive stalker- almost pathetic and desperate for the reader to pay attention to him, and by extension, be claimed/posessed by the reader. Think limerence. I'm excited to see what you write next!

😶‍🌫️

pairings. yandere!sub!chan x top!m!reader (ft. jeonghan & vernon). word count. 2.7k genre. yandere, request, smut.

warnings. obsessive behaviour, manipulation, the (in)famous drunk dino and kneeling jeonghan story, stalking, drunk sex, no protection (pull out game, sorry. please use a condom, people, ik mpreg doesn't happen in reality but you might never know), anal fingering, biting, chan is feral, reader is younger (idk but i feel like lee chan should be a hyung here), oral sex (chan receiving), use of drugs.

writer's notes. it took me a long time to figure out how i should write this. i might have went out of the theme im sorry hehe. normally im all down for bottom chan (esp wonchan or allchan) but i prefer uke male readers (rip my current and future ocs' and readers' asses). i hope that you are satisfied with this, though. let me know about your thoughts through my inbox, the anon who sent this in!

mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

masterlist | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

Chan needs you like a fish needs water.

You are his air, his world, his everything. His heart races wildly every time he catches a glimpse of you walking down the lecture hall.

But his love—no, his obsession—runs far deeper than simple admiration. He knows everything about you: your schedule, your favorite seat in the lecture hall, the snacks you nibble on between classes. He’s memorized the little quirks that make you you—the way you twist your pen between your fingers when lost in thought, the slight tilt of your head as you read, the soft furrow of your brows when something puzzles you.

Before he even realizes it, his phone is in his hand, snapping another photo of you. A snapshot of you deep in thought. Another of you sitting alone at the cafeteria. One of you walking home.

And then, there’s the one that sends his pulse racing the most—a picture of you standing by your window, reaching out to close it.

The pictures are printed and carefully pinned across the walls of his room, a shrine dedicated to you. Chan has convinced himself it isn’t wrong. He’s not hurting anyone, after all. He just wants to keep a part of you close, something to hold onto during the hours you’re out of reach.

But it isn’t enough.

The pictures, the fleeting glimpses of you, the stolen moments he captures through his camera lens—they only feed the growing void inside him. He needs more. He craves more.

He doesn’t just want to watch from the shadows anymore. He wants you to see him. To look at him the way he looks at you. To need him the way he needs you.

You were looking at your phone when you bumped into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” you quickly apologized, boxes tumbling to the ground as papers scattered everywhere. The man you knocked onto the floor coughed, peering up at you with narrowed eyes.

“It’s okay. Could you help me find my glasses, please?” His voice was soft and warm—and your heart skipped a beat. You bent down, quickly retrieving a pair of golden-rimmed glasses from the floor, gathering his scattered papers in the process.

You recognized him.

Lee Chan, from the finance department. He was a popular student—quiet, yet effortlessly attractive.

You held out your hand, and Lee Chan grabbed it, using you to pull himself up from the floor. “Thanks.”

“No worries, I wasn’t looking my way…” You passed the papers back to him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment. You were slightly taller than him, and as he stood close, you couldn’t help but notice a faint, sweet strawberry-like scent coming from him.

Your ears burned. What were you thinking?

“It’s fine. I wasn’t paying attention either.” Lee Chan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I know you. You’re from the sports department, right?”

“Yeah. You’re Lee Chan, right?” You made a quick bow, which he returned. “I didn’t know someone famous in this college would know someone like me, haha.” You tilted your head, scratching at the back of your neck again.

Lee Chan raised a brow, his tone surprised. “Are you trying to brag or something? You’re famous for that baseball match, you know?”

“Am I?” You laughed. Lee Chan nodded.

“Anyway, I should be on my way.” He glanced at his watch, ready to leave. You eyed the boxes and papers still scattered around, feeling guilty about knocking into him.

“Actually, I can help you, you know?” you said, flexing your toned arms with a grin. Before Lee Chan could protest, you quickly grabbed the heavy boxes from his hands. Seeing that you’d left no room for argument, Lee Chan reluctantly allowed you to carry the boxes for him.

By the time you reached the finance department, you had already started calling him "Chan hyung"—a natural transition since you two were now exchanging phone numbers. The walk had been brief, but there was something about the way Chan kept glancing at you, his lips curling into a small smile every time you caught his gaze, that made the air feel charged, even in the mundanity of it all.

"Thanks for helping me out," Chan said once you reached the door. He paused, the corners of his mouth still lifted in that soft, almost shy smile.

You grinned. "No problem, hyung. I’ll see you around, then?"

He nodded, and you gave him a quick wave before heading back towards the sports department.

From that day onward, Chan was always on your mind. You could almost always smell that intoxicating scent of sweet strawberries whenever you walked down the corridors. You found yourself checking Chan’s social media, or searching for his figure when you passed the finance department.

Chan texted you from time to time—sometimes to congratulate you on a game, other times to ask if you'd be up for a casual coffee. You would invite him to watch your games, eagerly looking for his familiar figure among the crowds. 

Until one day, when you got a phone call from him.

You had just finished practice and were washing up at the dorm when your phone rang. Stepping out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around your waist, you quickly checked the caller ID. Your eyes widened when you saw who was calling.

Without hesitation, you answered, putting the phone on loudspeaker as you grabbed another towel to dry your hair. "Chan hyung?" you asked, your voice slightly breathless.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone was unfamiliar. You frowned, pausing in your actions as you glanced at the screen. The background noise was chaotic—loud music and indistinct chatter. “Sorry, are you Chan’s friend? Could you come pick him up? He’s, uh, really drunk—VERNON! HOLD HIM!—sorry, he’s very, very drunk right now.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening. “Oh.” The unexpected turn of events threw you off balance.

There was a brief pause, and you could hear muffled voices in the background. Whoever was on the phone sounded frazzled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out... but he’s not really making any sense right now. He keeps asking for you. Can you come?”

Your hand tightened around the towel at your waist. Chan, drunk? And asking for you? It was a lot to process in a moment. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be there. Just... send me the address.”

The call ended abruptly, and the address was quickly sent to you. You threw on a casual shirt and black pants, grabbed your jacket and wallet, and headed out of the dorm. You hailed a cab and gave the driver the address.

As you neared your destination, you saw three figures standing at the roadside outside a nightclub. You instructed the cab driver to stop and wait for you, then quickly opened the door and rushed over.

Chan was holding onto a lamppost while one man supported him. The other man was kneeling before him, almost as if begging him to let go of the poor pole. You rushed forward, calling out, “Chan hyung!”

Your heart pounded as you neared the scene. The man who had been kneeling quickly stood up, pointing toward you. “He’s here! Chan-ah, please, let go of the lamppost—”

Chan’s head snapped up, his glassy eyes locking onto yours. A small, drunken smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it seemed distant and unfocused. His grip on the lamppost tightened for a moment before he slowly, shakily let go and staggered toward you. “You... You came,” he slurred, his voice slow and heavy with alcohol.

You instinctively reached out to support him as he wobbled toward you. His breath smelled faintly of alcohol and something else—something sweet, like strawberries. He tried to stand on his own but swayed dangerously, his body pressing too heavily against yours.

The man who had been kneeling sighed in relief, a slight smile on his face. “Thanks for coming. He’s been asking for you for the past half hour. We thought he might knock himself out with the pole at some point.” He sighed, while the other man nodded coolly. You recognized them as Yoon Jeonghan and Vernon Chwe from the marketing department. As Chan leaned heavily on your shoulder, you gave a quick bow to them. “Nice to meet you, sunbaes. I’m—”

“We know you.” Jeonghan gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re the rising star of the baseball team, Cheolie’s most reliable striker. Besides, Channie told us a lot about you.” He sighed at the man currently trying to hide his face in your neck. You quickly wrapped your jacket around him as he tightened his arms around your waist. “I see. Do you have the address to his dorm?”

“About that,” Vernon spoke up. “Chan’s dorm room is undergoing renovations. He’s been crashing at Jeonghan hyung’s place, but since he got drunk, he refused to leave with him. If you don’t mind, could you bring him back to your dorm instead?”

“Sure.” You nodded. Jeonghan looked relieved. “Great, I’ll leave Channie in your hands.” He said, before dragging Vernon off in the opposite direction. You gently guided Chan’s hands off you and led him back to the cab. 

By the time the cab reached your dorm, Chan had already fallen asleep. The driver, kind enough to assist, helped you carry Chan onto your back, and you left him a generous tip. Once inside, you laid Chan gently on your bed.

As you straightened up to grab a warm towel, a hand gripped your shirt tightly. You looked down to see Chan staring up at you, a faint blush across his face. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just getting a towel for you, hyung,” you replied, taking in his appearance. Chan wasn’t wearing his usual glasses—his eyes were wide, pupils dark, pulling you in like a siren. You swallowed, suddenly aware of the sweet scent of strawberries filling the room.

“Stay,” Chan insisted, his head tilting slightly to the side. You nodded, a bit dazed, and before you could fully process what was happening, he pulled you onto the bed, positioning himself to straddle you.

When your lips crashed, you froze, your hands laying helplessly at either side of your hips. You could feel Chan grinding on you, his hands gripping your shirt as his lips moulded with yours. When Chan finally pulled away from you to gasp for air, you quickly held him by the waist, stopping his movements. “Hyung… You’re drunk-”

“‘M not drunk,” Chan replied, his hands snaking down your chest. Your face burnt as he reached the hem of your pants, teasingly pulling at the band. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Hyung…” You swallowed. The air thickens as Chan frowned, leaning so close that your noses touched. “You want me to beg you? Please, fuck me?” He growled, grinding harshly at the tent in your pants. You let out a groan, your grip around his waist tightening. “I-”

“I’m giving you permission to put your cock in my ass right now. I like you.” Your eardrums ringed as Chan confesses, one hand pulling up his shirt while the other working on your pants. You choked on your own saliva at the sight of his body, quickly turning your head to the side. “Hyung, sl-slow down.”

Articles of clothing were soon removed, pooling at the ground of your bed. Chan is now lying beneath you, one hand grabbing the sheets as he moaned loudly, his other hand now tightening around your hair. You hollowed your mouth, your tongue flicking against his tip as you gave a harsh suck. 

Chan whimpered, arching his back off your sheets as his thighs clamped around your head. You ignored the tightness around your head, your finger working relentlessly on his hole as he thrashed around the sheets, wailing loudly before spilling into your mouth. “Ah…ha…”

The taste of salty musk and sweet strawberries filled your tongue as you lolled them out, letting them spill onto your fingers. Using Chan’s cum and your saliva as lube, you continued to venture in him, earning a loud cry from the older man. “Wait- T-too mu-”

“You were impatient just now, hyung.” You replied, forcing his knees to open for you again. Chan panted, looking at you through his hooded lids and wet hair. His upper body was littered with hickeys and bite marks, his nipples red and swollen. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

You added another finger into him, stretching him out as he moaned your name in earnest. A particular sharp jab of your fingers caused him to arch his back yet again, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You poked around that soft muscle for a few more times, before pulling your fingers out. 

“You…” Chan looked down at you, a confused yet fucked out expression on his face. You stood between his legs, your expression suddenly mortified. “Um, hyung, I don’t have condoms…”

“Just do it raw.” Chan deadpanned, rolling his eyes. He raised his knees up, hanging them over your shoulder and hooking you closer to him. “It’s not like I would get pregnant.”

Your cock twitches at his words and you hummed in reply. “You do know the colour system-”

“Green, now hurry up and fuck m- ah, shit,” You guided your hardness towards his hole, burying in Chan’s warmth with one slow thrust. You could feel him sucking you in as you groaned, pushing gently so as to not hurt him. 

Once you bottomed out, Chan’s eyes were unfocused. You leaned downwards to nibble at his swollen lips, and his hand quickly wrapped around your neck, supporting himself. You took this as a sign to continue, and your hips started to move. 

Moans and groans bounced off the walls as you rammed Chan into the sheets. Chan felt like a drug, his addictive scent filling your nose and brain as you continued to plant hickeys along the sides of his neck. It didn’t take long for Chan to arch his back again, and so you stopped. 

“Wha- Y-” Before Chan could say anything, you flipped him around, still impaled in him. Your hips moved at an unforgiving speed, as Chan could only cry your name out in both pleasure and mercy. “Can’t… Please- close…”

“I’m close too, hyung.” You pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder, your hand reaching down to grab at his cock. A few lazy tugs and Chan was cumming, his head on your shoulder as he sobbed, falling to the bed. You groaned at the sudden tightness, pulling out before tight ropes of your cum spurt over Chan’s back and ass. 

“I’ll clean you up, hyung,” you whispered softly as Chan’s heavy eyelids fluttered with exhaustion. Carefully, you lifted him off the bed, guiding him toward the bathroom.

With patience and gentle coaxing, you managed to shower him with warm water, wash away the remnants of the night, and dry him off. By the time you were done, Chan looked peaceful, dressed in clean clothes, and already half-asleep. You laid him gently on your bed, now fresh with newly changed sheets.

Sliding in beside him, you couldn’t resist wrapping your arms around his resting form. His familiar strawberry-like scent lingered, soothing you as you nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.

Contentment swelled in your chest. Tomorrow, you would ask him out on an official date. For now, though, holding him close was more than enough.

bonus:

02:23 a.m.

hannie hyung🐰: so... how did it go? did you get cheol’s favourite junior?

hannie hyung🐰: judging from your lack of response, i guess you got what you want. i really need that strawberry perfume back, you know. besides, if he smells it too often he might get really, like really addicted to it.

hannie hyung🐰: and bononie just cleared out the stash of photos in your dorm, you can bring him back any time.

hannie hyung🐰: we didn't throw it away though, it's at shua's.

hannie hyung🐰: and text me back when you're awake. i can't believe i had to kneel down to you in public, you little freak. do we really have to go all out to that extend?

hannie hyung🐰: hyung loves you, anyway.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[project-sekai-facts]

I'm just gonna leave this here because I feel like I should say something. Mizuki is trans, I still agree with the stuff I said a month ago. Did they say it in the story? No. Were they ever going to say it in the story? Well it seemed like I was but they just pulled the most insane 4 year queerbait.

Did people warn me? Yes, and I probably should've listened more, but from a writer's perspective what happened in Ena5 is very stupid so I had a little bit more hope for clpl. Confining any sort of actual coming out scene to a card story and fading to black over the actual reveal is honestly just cruel. Not to mention that Mizuki's bio is probably locked as "gender: ?".

Mizuki is still a trans character and trans representation, though the lack of actual confirmation really sours her story. Especially since the only indirect confirmation of her identity as a woman comes from student a talking to Ena about Mizuki (the whole Ena is a "normal girl" thing). Having Mizuki being robbed of her chance to come out by transphobes, and never resolving this so her bullies are left as the only credible source of her gender is atrocious. Mizuki being outed was a crucial plot point, to never resolve just leaves a bad taste.

It's still a glaring issue that clpl is trying to play both sides here. Which has always been an issue with things like white day and other marketing featuring Mizuki and the boys together. It's just gross that they're still trying to do it now, cutting off the actual reveal of Mizuki's secret and having the characters say "Mizuki is Mizuki", something that's often used by people who want to deny any trans reading, and a new area conversation about Mizuki's voice. Remember that old area convo about Mizuki having a lower voice. It gets referenced in a new one.

The reveal of the secret itself, transness aside, is comedically bad. Project SEKAI's writing isn't exactly amazing by any means, it's pretty basic in the grand scheme of writing, but this is worse than a lot of their other worst offenders. Building up to this big reveal of a secret that is incredibly important to one character's development, only for it not to actually be revealed, and probably never mentioned again, is ridiculous. It feels like a last minute change to ensure mass appeal but I don't know if it was. If it was, they still failed because some fans are dissatisfied that they never got told what it was, regardless of what they think it was.

And no, it's not corporate meddling. Probably. From colopale, maybe, from Sega, honestly probably not. Sega has other franchises and games with queer and specifically trans characters so it's not like Mizuki would be harmful to their brand image. If anyone interfered it was other staff at colopale.

Anyway, I'm not quitting the game and I'll still be running this blog for the time being. Not saying you have to continue playing and I totally understand people who are dropping the game over this. If anyone wants to add their thoughts to this post or send an ask freel free to.

[pseudonymphomania]

The future can never be known beforehand, but in your crystal ball eyes I see myself and what you want me to be.

Yuki’s Fandom Analysis and Thoughts

It was after midnight when I saw the news. I was heading to bed and was struck by this thing that has now caused Obey Me to be a trending topic in gaming today, something it hadn’t done in quite a while. Shock, dismay, hope, despair, relief, commiseration, joy, emptiness. Sleeplessness. I took a nap after the Ferris wheel of emotions from talking with everyone and seemed to process the entire gamut of emotion in those few hours, then I went to work because it was just a normal day.

I cried at work. [secretly]

I smartly decided to take a day off today. Throughout, I kept an eye on all my social medias and saw the range of opinions about where the game should have gone or could go next, some rampant rage, confusion, but mostly just sadness. Posts lamenting, posts agonizing, because this is what fandom is. We are all the emotions that can ever exist and at any given point we as individuals become fixated on a certain genre of them. No matter what we each thought to ourselves about individual elements, we are joined here by this love that we feel for the game because we can only feel a loss this strongly if we also love just as strongly.

I decided to take a breather from social media and opened the apps. It felt so strange. Obey Me wasn’t an mmorpg. There was never any physical people in there aside from the friends we got ap from. The tactile features, the noises, texts and pop ups were the same, so why did it feel so empty?

It’s because the fandom was mourning. I realized that when the fandom is joy, I am joy. When the fandom is sad, I am sad. I and you and others are fandom and fandom is what made the games what they are. Fun.

We are what keeps this world running.

Everything we had as a fandom, as friends, acquaintances, even if you were just a random blurb attached to squishy avatar to me, all this was meaningful beyond the constraints of the game.

But we are hurt. If we are to take Obey Me’s rules to heart where we are the MC of our universe, this was literally world-shaking news. We need to allow ourselves to process these feelings (even me, who didn’t treat the inhabitants as my romantic partner). We need to do it on our own terms and not on someone else’s timeline.

The official statement is vague on purpose, and everyone is preparing themselves for the end, but the future can never be realized beforehand. I don’t care for self-fulfilling prophecies if the only reward at the end is being able to say “I was right”. They gave me a rescue hook and I’m skewering myself on it. I’m passionate about what I love and I’ll let it drive my action; whether critically or lovingly. We took a hit yesterday and I’m still feeling it today, but that’s exactly why I want to support this fandom in anyway I know how in whatever way I know how.

Here is where you’ll find me.

(I remastered my “Hug Day” art for this. I usually repost the original when I’m feeling sad and Diavolo’s stupid silly face actually makes me less sad. Imagining this big awkward dude earnestly trying to make me feel better puts the smile back on my face where it belongs, so let me eat my bittersweets and don’t tell my dentist)

Live discussion on Reddit

[sun-flower-children]

BakuSquad with S/O’s Taller Than Them

This was written literally years ago but im trying to clear out my drafts

A/N: im a long boi and most imagines etc. are all shorter than them so i thought ‘ fine, i’ll do it myself’ :)

Sero Hanta

- he has no problem with you being taller than him. He’s actually really into it.

- cuddle wise he still wants to hold you, no matter the position.

- He will pull you down to his level by putting a hand on the back of your neck and gentle pull you down.

- Since he is the tallest out of all his friends, before he met you, he starts to understand the comfort of hugging and being surrounded by you.

-  He will tease you about it

- HE does like looking up at you

- Adores the way you make him feel safe, protected and loved.

- Will finally understand the stealing your s/o’s sweaters/hoodies because he has someone to steal from.

- I think that Sero would be s lil bitch about it when you wrap your arm around his shoulders and lean on him but in reality he likes it

Kaminari Denki

- Denks will spend the first few weeks of the relationship in shock and awe that he managed to pull you

- Once it settles in he will become progressively more touchy

- your sweaters / hoodies? they are now his lounge wear

- he like holding you bc it is like hugging a giant teddy bear and he has no problem telling you so

- another fun art of him getting comfortable is that he stops filtering all his thoughts that have to do with you

- they will come right out

- he tells you how much he loves that you tower over him and the size difference just does things to him

- sitting in your lap with your hands around his waist or resting in his lap make him so happy

- will jump up on your back and just hang on to you

Bakugo Katsuki

-Bakugo when he met you was upset that he had regrettably befriended another extra that is taller than him

- he was positive that he was going to keep growing

- by the time y'all are dating he night have grown but certainly not enough to surpass you in any way

- He hates that you literally look down on him, at first, and would find ways to bring him down to his level

- pulling your ear, tugging on your hair, pulling your sleeve/shirt, hitting your legs to make you bend over

- after sometime he realizes that this isn’t optimal behavior and will ask you to sit down.

- though after some more time passes he will realize that you never have and never will look down on him

- not when your eyes soften specially just for him and your gaze meets his ; shit just makes him melt

- he finds comfort in being able to be absolutely swallowed by you when cuddling.

- normally when y'all are chilling its side by side or he is the big spoon but when he has nightmares or is really anxious the only place he wants to be in in your bed, wearing comfy clothes and buried in your chest.

Kirishima Eijiro

- Kirishima thinks you are manly always

- regardless if you are masc presenting or not

- babes really needs to learn a new descriptor word

- Kiri loves your hieght from the get go

- cuddling and hugging you is his favorite. 

- when you leave of greet him you quickly kiss him on his forehead

- he melts and loves it sm

- likes to lean on you with his full body randomly

- think of it like soft n cute trust falls

- he likes that your extra blankets are extra long for him so he has more material to fuss around in when his playing his mobile games on your bed

- pat his head (gently and endearingly obvi)

[hwangskitten]

random 4am smut thought with jeongin

Minors Do Not Interact

reader is a bit older, typical shy innocent virgin reader, jeongin is an obsessed pervert 🥰 a sprinkle of noncon but it's alright because it's jeongin and he's cute

under normal circumstances, it was impossible for you to consider anything intimate with a younger guy. but the alcohol in your system was overtaking your logic.

jeongin was possibly the sweetest person you knew and you trusted him enough to let him drag you anywhere. you didn't question him when he pulled you away from the group of people you were with and drove you to his place. "you looked like you're gonna pass out. if you're gonna sleep, then sleep here where I know you'll be safe." his bedroom. it was safe. his bed felt comfortable. when did you change your clothes? you didn't know. too drunk to realize anything.

soon the two of you were cuddled up in bed together. the shirt he made you wear was riding up your legs. your messy hair, your bare face, the way you were clinging on his arm. it was enticing.

he knew you wouldn't think of him as anything more than a friend just because you were older by a few months, but that didn't stop his thoughts about you. you were blind to how perfectly he fit what you wanted in a guy, just because of his age. every single trait you liked in people, he had it. respectful, romantic, considerate, loyal, experienced.

he doubted you even knew how to kiss. after that one time you were dared to kiss minho in a game, he said you kiss like a virgin. maybe you were one. even if you weren't, you were inexperienced. he was sure of it because of how you reacted to his touch. to you, all of his advances were innocent.

but tonight, you were in his bed. drunk. deep asleep.

having you close wasn't enough. he needed more.

you would never know about it.

you would never know how he almost came only after putting your hand on his hard cock. how he held back his moans when he started moving your hand to jerk himself off. how he was shaking when you scooted closer and he could feel your soft breathing on his neck. how he came all over your hand. how he took a picture of it to keep in a hidden folder on his phone filled with other pictures of you. how he craved to kiss you but settled for gentle pecks to not wake you up.

it was wrong obviously. he knew that but you were never gonna find out.

or maybe just not yet.

[winduska]

. ݁₊ 🌌 ⊹ .ᐟ Sapphire | Jeongin x Reader

.ᐟ Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

.ᐟ Genre: Fluff

.ᐟ Word count: 1.8k

.ᐟ Warnings: Nothing (?)

.ᐟ Summary: You and your companions embark on a late-night car ride through the city, however, one of your companions happens to be the individual you hold feelings for.

.ᐟ a.n: This is just short something that I thought of while listening to this song sooo enjoy?

It’s late at night. You and your friends had nothing interesting to do, so boredom quickly overtook your beings. Normally, in this situation, you would just stay at home. The classic evening would take turn once again. You would play games, watch whatever show was playing on the TV and spend a good time with your close ones that you loved so much.

There were two companions that were dear to your heart. Jisung, your best friend since childhood, was one of your daily doses of happiness and joy. He was there for you when you needed him the most, helped you when the times were rough, dried your bloodshed tears full of agony, soothed your pain when you got your heart broken and had all the other best friend qualities. He was like your other part. One couldn’t work without the other, and that was the way this relationship worked. 

And then there was another boy, Jeongin. The word friend tasted salty on your lips when you dared to say it. You would much rather call him something else. Something more meaningful, perhaps. Soulmate? Boyfriend? Lover? Any of those words sounded better than the word friend. You would be jumping from joy if that was the case. But the reality wasn’t that beautiful and astonishing. Maybe in the future, you can say happily that Jeongin being your friend was the lowest naming of your relationship. The couple wave that can be made up will be full of feelings once it happens. But the thing is, will it happen?

Jisung knew about your crush on Jeongin for a long time, even before you knew about it. Jisung as your best friend knew you so well, and he could read your emotions before your own heart realising their presence. It was a dynamic and a skill that you have grown used to. It was a rather helpful trait that Jisung possessed, making your character easier to understand. Not only that, but it has drawn you to so many new emotions and realizations that were attached to your heart. The center of your being always held a special place for the boy, but never crossed the relationship line. You both talked about it and realized that friendship is the only string that’s going to stay attached between the two of you. For some reason, neither of you ever felt something more for each other. Maybe it was the childhood factor? Maybe it was the lack of romanticism between the two of you? You didn’t know. But you were more than happy about the two of you, and you will continue being as happy.

For Jeongin, it was different. Jisung showed up to one of your regular hangouts with Jeongin by his side. The guy seemed rather reserved at first, but as the hours ticked by, his stiffness decreased and his true self slowly showed. Jeongin was rather bubbly when with people he’s comfortable. Playing games with both of you and when he went on a losing streak the shouting and hurt from loosing echoed through the room. You started observing him without you noticing it. The way his hair fell into his face by time, how he raked through it to make it look more presentable, how his eyes snarked their way and perked at surprise - just like a fox. His habits were also what caught your attention. His long skincare routine that you caught a glance of when the three of you had a sleepover, the way he eats his stupid fries and how his facial expressions speak volumes. But his personality is what got you and completely overtook you. His personality was art itself. Kindness that was natural and not forced, occasional shyness that flew through his veins. And you could go on and on. It was ridiculous how much this man captivated you. 

And now, the three of you are in your seats of Jisung’s car. All of you got bored at home, sighing and almost crying from boredom. Late night rides were something that all of you liked and desired when you got tasteless. So without thinking twice, you found yourself in the back of Jisung’s car, Jeongin by your side and loud music cursing through your veins. The mood was already set. You didn’t drink anything yet, but it was definitely on the plans for tonight. Jisung was the driver and master of the vehicle. It was his, and he rarely let someone else drive it. The night was young, but you already felt different. 

You raise in your seat, feeling how the air was hugging your body so suddenly in such a cold but freeily refreshing way. Even if you might fall into the abyss of roads and darkness, you wouldn’t care. The fresh wind that flew tangedly across your body made you feel like a completely shifted being, not caring a bit about problems or promises. You just stood, arms in the air, while the car's top was opened. 

The freedom you felt in the exact moment was too Neverland like that you couldn’t believe it at first. With the utmost energy in your lungs, you took a deep breath and screamed with such intensity that you felt even more free. With the screaming, you felt like all the negativity and positivity left your body in an instant. This is exactly what you needed. A moment like this in your life. Jisung, that was your car driver, blasted the music even louder. Very probably at its maximum volume, which was really loud. But, you didn’t care. You didn’t care a single bit. With the left strength in your lungs and with your hair flying in every possible direction, you sang. You sang your heart out to the song that was playing, playing in such a way that you suddenly felt like it was hugging you as a whole. You loved this song but listening to it in such state, it really amazed you. The lyrics seem to make way more sense now, the fees of the song were absorbed by your own mind and soul. 

The song was you, and you were the song.

When your throat started to burn and your body felt like passing on the road behind you, you decided to plumb back down onto the seats. With the car top closing, and you regaining your breath, the song didn’t stop. Jisung was still in his own world, but Jeongin next to you wasn’t. He was staring at you. He wasn’t twice shameless about it, either. When he took a glance into your eyes and locked his own with them, he couldn’t help but smile. You weren’t drunk. You didn’t drink a single drop of alcohol, but your experience that you lived through just now made you feel like that, but in the best way. With the looks of him and his stare, you couldn’t help but giggle. A series of giggles were coming out of you as the staring prolonged itself. Jeongin laughed himself too after seeing your state of happiness and daze that cursed through your veins. 

The moment both of you calmed was way more intense than the realization itself. Gazes locked, souls intertwining as they began to draw itself near. Without you realizing approximately, he came closer. 

And closer. 

He came so close that you were now inching towards him yourself without worrying about anything else. His lashes that were moving as his stare shifted, skin that was smoother than dolls’ one and hair messy in his face that were like silk itself. 

Without thinking twice about the situation and consequences, you closed your feathery eyes and inched into the final breath and proximity, immediately pressing your soft lips against his plump own. 

You were kissing Jeongin, and he was kissing you.

That’s something you never thought would actually happen but yet here you are, in the presence of your loved one. His moves were so Jeongin. Right but with a hint of urge. His smell that filled your senses and taste of ebony and sweet night that made you dizzy. Every move of his lip that showed something hidden bloom out of it as he walked the path of love towards you.

Hand of his own that was now on your neck whilst yours was entangled in his soft locks, not planning on letting go anytime soon. The grasp was tight but so good that it wouldn’t loosen up even if you wanted it to. 

A soft bite that caught you off guard and made you realise that his tongue was poking your lips. As a gasp left you, the tongue of Jeongin’s rigidly made its way to meet yours. You didn’t fight it, not like you wanted to anyway, and let him find his own pace and space. 

He was gentle, much like you thought, but his senses of lust and desire slowly overtook him. His force was now much more present and the kiss felt more powerful, meaningful. He was holding back but going further than making out wasn’t the best idea that you two could make in the moment.

You both slowly pulled away from each other and tried to regain your breathing as much as your realizations. You blinked and turned away, smiling to yourself like a dumb teenage girl after her first kiss, whilst Jeongin leaned back in his seat and kept his eyes on you. Furthermore, you could feel the little smile on his face, but you didn’t look to confirm it. 

“You’re unbelievable.” Jeongin’s voice immediately made you perk up and give him a small look before looking away in your own direction.

“Why so?” Your voice was low, much more shy than scary or teasing.

“You need to makeout with me before talking about us.” A blush creeped out and overtook your cheeks before you could control anything else. He was right about it but hearing it from him made it harder.

“So what does that make us?” You looked at him and made your question even more clear and straightforward. You wanted an answer and didn’t want to hear a stupid lie or something bothersome. 

“Something more than friends?” That definitely was an answer and you had to think about it for a minute. When you were about to bombard your mind with thousand thoughts you caught a glimpse of Jisung’s stare in the mirror. He was smiling in a fond way and more of a relieved one, mainly because the problem of love was about to be resolved. He was happy for both of you, more than happy if he was being honest. It’s true that he didn’t know how the two of you will end up, but at least you wouldn’t live in a constant limbo of thoughts and options. Now, you’ll have a stand. And he’s joyful to witness a moment like this for the both of you. 

[blindvogel]

I've played through Veilguard three times now and I've had this thing in my head since the first go around. I was not normal about Emmrich and Kamari before I really met them and now that I have, they do not leave my head. But before I can get into all the sweet and fluffy pieces that I usually love to write, I need to get the drama and heartbreak out of my system that was the third act of the game. We all know. It's the Argument, and the weeks after. So. First part. Kamari.

~~~

Its shape the absence of you (Part 1 of 3)

She had thought it would be a conversation of affirmations and reassurance when she sought out Emmrich the evening before their mission on Tearstone Island. She never thought it would be this. 

Kamari can tell he is worried, scared even - he’s never been good at truly hiding his emotions from her. Yet it is not a fear of the now, the coming day. He’s scared of hurting her in the future, some nebulous time some decades away should they make it out alive and off the island. 

And his words - he’s always so careful with them, chooses them wisely. And what he says to her now- 

“Even under the best circumstances, you will outlive me, Kamari. I care for you. Deeply. But- there are such years between us, I shouldn’t heap you with that burden.” 

It’s a stab right into her heart. Does he truly mean to end things between them or is it just his fear speaking, finding a new way to worm itself into torturing him? And her. 

“You’re breaking my heart by worrying.” She can only respond with honesty, with her feelings laid bare before him. 

And he sees them. She knows he does when he looks away and his voice softens around the familiar endearment.

“Darling, I didn’t…” He trails off, does not finish the thought. 

For a moment she thinks Emmrich will relent, will not push this further. Except he doesn’t. Kamari can see it as his posture changes, his body turns away from her as he looks back at her. Determined.

“I only wish to be fair to you,” he says but there is no fairness in fear.

Still, she tries to soothe, to reassure him despite her own fear rising up her throat. She cares too much for him to just give in.

“I know what I’m getting into.”

It’s not what he wants to hear, or can at this point perhaps. And Kamari would never have thought to what depths Emmrich could sink when all he had shown her before was kindness and affection. Couldn’t have imagined that he could look down at her like he does now, so dismissively.

“At your age?” 

It’s a slap in her face and it hurts, yet still she persists. She does not want to argue.

“Don’t start,” she cautions, yet even her own body does not listen as her back straightens and her muscles tense.

And neither does Emmrich as he continues to insist, his voice raised. 

“We must consider this!”

A last attempt, her hand reaching out palm up, placating, almost pleading, voice soft.

“You’re overthinking it, and it’s not the time.”

It’s as if he isn’t listening to her at all, as if he doesn’t want to or can hear anything she’s said since she came into his room. Cannot back down from the path of escalation he’s set himself on.

“One of us needs to consider my mortality!” There is real anger in his voice, brows knit together, an arrogance in his posture as he towers over her that snaps something inside Kamari.

She doesn’t raise her voice but her own pain and anger feel like glass shards in her mouth as she rises to the bait.

“Because you’re worried about me, or insecure about you?”

And it hits its mark. 

Shock and hurt is written all across Emmrich’s face even as he averts his eyes from her, his shoulders sinking as the fight goes out of him. She immediately regrets this, never wanted to see him hurt or be the one to cause him pain. Her instinct screams at her to take it all back, to apologize. Her mouth complies before it catches up with her other feelings.

“Look I…,” she starts but then cannot bring herself to finish it. He’s hurt her deeply. It is too much for now, for what little time there is left. “.. let’s pack. Eve before we face a god, right?” She finishes instead, her body half-turning to leave. 

It’s not what either of them want, staying in this hurtful limbo, but there are too many emotions and too little time to fix it.

“As you say,” he agrees, his head sinking and unable to look at her when she can no longer conceal the extent of her own pain from her face. Kamari leaves quickly before he can see her cry. 

And it’s a blessing that her own room is so close so that nobody else sees her tears. 

Packing and readying her gear she can almost do by rote and she isn’t sure if that is a blessing or a curse. It leaves most of her mind free to circle and spin, replay that conversation in her head over and over and over. 

Had Emmrich truly so little faith in her feelings for him, had he thought them so shallow that she hadn’t even considered a life with him beyond the now and what that would mean? Had it been just his own fear and insecurity talking as she had thrown into his face? Something in between? The knife in her heart twists sharply, leaving her sitting on the floor with trembling hands. 

It continues to twist her heart into a painful knot as she attempts sleep and finds very little. 

The heavy eye makeup she applies the next morning does little to hide the redness of her puffy eyes but nobody remarks on it. They are all dealing with their own emotions and as long as her voice does not waver, as long as her thoughts remain focused on the task at hand and her eyes on the path before her then it does not matter. There is no room for anything else. 

They discuss the best approach, discuss splitting the team so that one half can distract the Antaam army while the other is guaranteed an approach to where the gods are working on the dagger. Kamari agrees with Harding’s suggestion to lead the other team - she trusts her friend to get them through safely. Who better to do this than a scout with the Stone on her side and Neve, Bellara and Taash to watch her back. 

Keeping Emmrich with her is a selfish choice and she knows it. They have not spoken since yesterday and the weight of what was said and what has been left unsaid hangs heavy between them. But Kamari knows that she will feel better if she knows where he is, if she can at least make sure herself that he is not harmed. It’s the best she can do to get through this and focus.

There are enough obstacles in their way to keep her attention. 

So she isn’t prepared when Emmrich catches up to her side in a rare calm moment, Davrin and Lucanis just enough ahead of them in a semblance of privacy. 

“Kamari?” A pause, almost not noticeable before he adds, “Darling? I wanted to say-”

She interrupts him gently. “Yeah. About that argument…” She can not have this now, can not give him the attention that this would rightfully deserve. But the familiar endearment soothes nonetheless.

Emmrich sighs, understanding what she implies. “It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

“We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.” 

She does not keep her promise. She does not get to go home.

After Lucanis succeeds in striking down Ghilan’nain, after Harding sacrificing herself to give him that shot, after losing Bellara to Elgar’nan - after all this, Solas’ betrayal costs her that promise. Ripped into the Fade, shackled and weighed down by her regrets, she plummets into the Fade prison in his stead. 

The voices of her friends, team mates, her love, are deafening in her head, cursing and blaming her for her failures. And she lets them. She deserves it. 

She made the call that got Bellara captured, perhaps killed. 

She agreed to Harding’s plan, was not quick enough, not clever enough to do something before she chose to sacrifice herself. 

She hurt Emmrich. 

She… she could not save Varric. 

That realization, that memory resurfacing has her remain motionless after she slams into the ground.

Kamari doesn’t know how long she simply lays there. Time seems to have little meaning where she is and she has no presence of mind to think about it. She can only feel the weight of the pain and grief, the weight of her guilt pressing her down. Can barely breathe.

Then the tears come and soon sobs shake her entire body until finally exhaustion drags her into unconsciousness. 

Eventually, she wakes. Manages to struggle to her feet to aimlessly wander the greyscale world of her prison. Solas’s prison, and she his substitute. 

It takes her longer still to form thoughts that are not made of self-recrimination, that are not voices in her head telling her it was her fault. 

The first thought that floats to the surface is an observation. That she feels no hunger, that her body exists in this realm as if set in stasis. It is followed by another thought, a logical conclusion. If her body is in stasis, then she can not die. A third thought, now clawing at her so sharply that the apathy crumbles away under the fresh pain and fear - if she cannot die, then she will be stuck here forever. And she knows this to be true. She is a Watcher.

She cannot stay. She is a Watcher. There has to be a way.

Her steps become determined, her aimless wandering turns into a search. But there is nothing, just the flat grey cobblestones underneath her feet and floating statues of her tyrannical would-be gods above her. 

She is alone, with only her regrets for company. 

So she talks to them out loud so that she can hear her own voice echoing in the space and know the voices answering are in her head by the contrast. Bellara, calm yet reproachful. Harding, soft and gentle despite the bitterness of her words. They speak, they argue for what feels like an eternity, Kamari softly begging for forgiveness until she finally realizes she is asking this from herself. 

Until there are Bellara’s words in her head, a memory from what feels now so long ago. “Until it feels like I deserve it.” 

Does she? Is there even something to forgive aside from her own guilt and regret? 

They knew the risks, they made their choices. And she had to live with that even if it hurt. It does. It will. Hope is not yet lost if they can save Bellara. And she cannot help from in here, stuck pondering what-ifs. 

She is a Watcher, there has to be a way.

“The Fade always provides a way forward.” Emmrich’s reassuring voice, his words when Johanna had sealed them in. She needs to get back to him, to make things right and have that conversation. To hold him and not let go until that gnawing fear subsides. Not a regret, a promise.

“You’ve got it, kid.” 

Varric. 

The thought, the memory steals her breath. He had been dead the entire time and she… every time she doubted, every time she faltered and sought out his advice… she had been talking to herself. And a small part of her, a quiet voice she did not want to listen to, it had always known. But she could not face it then, gladly allowed herself to be fooled by Solas’ curse, his words because she could not take the truth. Then.

Now? 

Grief has not dulled its claws but they were no longer buried so deep that she could not take the pain. He had tried to save his friend his way, and perhaps he had failed… but only if she would give up too. Only if she could not accept it and stop looking for a way forward, a way out.

“The Fade always provides.”

Kamari closes her eyes, focuses on Emmrich’s voice even if it is only in her memory. Hope. She has to hold on to hope.

The ground beneath her shakes, her eyes sting with a sudden brightness and as she opens them she sees it right above her, a distant sun and a steep climb. But she can do this. Her family is waiting.

[callmecharlie09]

Some analasys on Mouthwashing

This is quite litteraly my first post on the game, but i wanted to shoot my shot incase someone finds this, i rlly need to talk about this beautiful masterpiece.

People often talk about the game regarding the playthrough and theories and whatnot which is obv normal, considering thats what you need to use as a source of analasys, but one thing I never myself have seen is people talking about the title of the game itself.

I found it random how mouthwashing of all things was the word chosen from it, seeing how it is only pretty relevant in the game when the crew starts using it as a substitue for food or smth after running short on it. However, it obviously means alot more if it is the name to represent the game, and this is my take on it ^^

One thing that caught my eye is that the entire crew had hid something from the rest at one point or another, pre and post crash. Anya had hidden her abuse taken from Jimmy after Curly didnt do anything, Daisuke telling Jimmy about his problems with his mom when drunk, Swansea keeping away the escape pod so Daisuke could use it, and Jimmy and Curly are mostly related to Anyas situation, but also the scene where Curly told the crew about them being fired, making Jimmy felt lied to in a sense. So what does this mean? I feel like the mouthwash is suppose to be a 'metaphor' for the expression "to wash your mouth out with soap". Normally, this expression is used when someone says something bad or something they shouldnt have said, and in a more overexagerated sense, 'to clense your sins'. So could it basically mean that it is a weird punishment for every crew member not being truthful? Especially in dire situations? It might be, but I have another theory for it.

Another thing is the suffering the mouthwash brought to the others. One might assume that, despite the minty taste and liquid form, mouthwash would still be enough to help them survive, seeing as how its sugar contents woupd help them live for long enough to get rescued, but that doesnt seem to happen in anyones case.

The moment they discover the mouthwash storage boxes, Anyas first instinct was to read what it contained, and she immediatly panicked when she saw it had too much sugar to be used for Curly to tend to his injuries, already being a problem to two of the members. Swansea and Daisuke (mostly Swansea) took advantage of the alcohol that it contained, striking back Swanseas addiction that he sobered up from and making Daisuke think about his mother solemnly, and Jimmy is the only one left. He has the smallest disatvantage when it comes to him as a singular person, but as now captain, he sees it as him getting the biggest one, with having to make the others survive on mouthwash alone while he goes madder and more insane everyday, becoming less stable than before and distancing himself from everyone.

Thats basically all that I have to say, it might've been obvious to others, but I only thought about this a few days ago lol (im sorry for bad english).

Bye chat <3

[rsventhesecondd]

insecurities , — Nagi Seishiro ! anon request :3

sypnosis whereas reader is feeling insecure about her body weight.

warnings . mentions of slight trauma, vulgar words, fluff, angst, nsfw, not proof read yet , all characters used are aged up. note ⧽ some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. english isn't our first language, so please bare with oncoming vocabulary or grammatic mistakes. (๑°⌓°๑) authors note . the ending was kinda rushed, and sorry this was late. But hey, please enjoy reading !

You nervously stood on the scale, watching the numbers go up as your manager stood ahead of you. Your eyes widening slightly as the numbers went up from the usual limit. 

" Ms. [ last name ] , we've talked about this. Have you not been doing the... diet that we've told you to do? " She then said, stopping in the midst of the sentence to look at the scale, then to you.  

"I- " You stuttered to defend yourself , voice almost visibly breaking. You were embarrassed. Yes, you were nervous about checking your weight, yes you had doubts about your body; but there was a small glint that wanted you to atleast hope that you weren't doing anything wrong. 

" I think not. " Your manager said, raising a brow. " You will not be walking on the runway, and Miss Mikage will be taking your place " 

"But I worked hard for that position! I spent nights prac-" 

" You are dismissed. " Said your manager, cutting you off. 

You walk away in defeat, sadness washing all over you. You worked hard to be in this position, you've gotten rejected multiple times, cried over this multiple times, and the year you finally have gotten chosen to show the talent you've been working hard for— this is what you get? 

"She finally got woken up to reality." , 

"She thinks she's all better than us when the reason she got in here was because of her connections." , 

"I heard the only reason the company accepted her because she's the wife of a famous football player."

The people surrounding you murmured in a secretive tone, despite you hearing them loud and clear. 

Instead of lashing out your anger, you wouldn't want to risk your job even further. So you chose to be the 'bigger person' and walk away. 

You reached your house, opening the door as you found a pair of mens shoes placed hastily on the floor. You sigh, fixing them up as you took yours off and placed it beside neatly. 

You went to the sofa, not bothering to greet your now husband– Nagi since you were too stressed with all the things going on. 

I mean, you couldn't understand. Sure, you were the wife of a famous football player. But you worked hard for this position, you went through those interviews, questions, and so what if you were only accepted because of your 'connections' ? 

Is it so wrong that you eat like a normal human being? 

You DONT understand. Is this what you've been dreaming of? Is this the dream that you wanted so badly, is this the feeling of achieving the dream that you've worked your ass off? 

You started to overthink, you started to wonder— am I not enough? Is this what everyone thinks of me? Do I even deserve this life? Do I even deserve Na- 

"Baby?" A familiar voice questioned, his tone more of a hum. 

You know, Nagi really cares about his games. He'd choose to slump all day if he could. Actually, if you were to describe him– hell he'd probably care about nothing at all. 

But the moment he hears the front door creek, the sound of your shoes tapping as you place it  on the floor— even though your usual 'Nagi, I'm home' wasn't heard, he was sure it was you. 

His eyes perk up ever so slightly, still, he focused on his game; but this time, with the thought of you coming to greet him in his mind. He waited, and waited, but to no avail. And once he fully takes his headphones off, he hears– muffled sobs? 

Ah, that's it. It was your voice. But, why does it make him feel so.. so hurt? Getting up is a nuisance, greeting you is a nuisance, but what's this? The moment he opened the bedroom door to see your crying state, it was automatic. 

He walked towards you, sitting down the couch as he sees your heartbreaking state. "[Name] ? .." he asked, pausing– it was his first time seeing you like this. "Huh? What happened?" He said, reaching out his hand

As much as you wanted to bawl out crying into his arms, you couldn't shake the worried that echoed through your brain. "Go away." You retorted, voice almost breaking. 

'huh?' 

Was what Nagi thought at the moment. What'd he do wrong? Why are you being like this? Why are you acting like this? Why why why why? 

"I don't deserve you." You muttered out. 

"Huh? t're you talking about?" He said, in actual confusion — head tilting slightly to the side.

"I don't deserve you. Let's end this." You said, getting up.

Then a hand pulling you back down. 

"What are you—" 

Your eyes soften as he cuts you off with a kiss. 

You wish you could've resisted, but your body just reacted. The way his tongue slowly slid in your mouth, kissing you in that same lazy pattern. How could someone resist such thing?

"Ah, what a hassle." Nagi says, pulling away. 

" You don't have to console me if I'm such a hassle " You retort , looking away.  

"Mmm, you being sad is a hassle. I don't like it." He says, head snuggling to your chest. He stays silent for a quick second, thinking of a a way to have you feel better. "You can tell me what happened if you want, I don't think of it as a hassle when it comes to listening to you." 

Unknowingly once again, tears welled up your eyes from hearing his words. Do you really deserve someone like him? And when your tears stream, so did your feelings. You unconsciously let your mouth run about how shitty your boss was and your surroundings, how you felt, and everything else that bothered you. 

And there was Nagi. 

Nagi who would've fallen asleep if it were someone else speaking

Nagi who would've chosen to play his games and put on his headphones rather than to listen to some girl crying 

You know, ultimately — Nagi never thought he would be the type of person to really care. But when he saw you crying, talking about the things that bothered you; it bothered him too. 

Just as you thought he fell asleep listening your rants as you muttered 'what'd I expect' , you see him suddenly look up. "I'll tell reo to transfer you to a different company tomorrow.. but first, I need to remind you something, 'kay?"

He leans in once more, his lips lazily moving against yours as he almost effortlessly changed your positions, his slim hands holding your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

He suddenly stood up, a slight gasp leaving your lips as you felt him move. Nagi interrupts your attempt to speak once again with a following kiss as he made ilis way to your joint bedroom, carefully placing you down on the bed. 

He pulls away, finding you already unbottoning your blouse as he removes his shirt. And when you do take off your clothes, he stares at your body for a while— the thoughts of insecurity in your mind growing as you see his lips move to speak. 

" s' pretty.." He said, hands giving a quick run on your waist down your thighs as he spreads them. "Mm, I think you shouldn't listen to what they say. They haven't seen how pretty you are." 

Nagi added, his fingers slipping down your underwear as he puts two digits inside of you. You let out a strained moan, hand quickly covering your mouth as he  curled up his fingers, pushing them in and out swiftly. 

He takes your hand off your mouth, snuggling his face onto it slightly. " wanna hear you moan out my name " 

He says, removing his fingers as he pushes his tip against your entrance— then almost slamming it all in, causing you to jolt. "Sei—" You moan out, followed by another as he went on to steady his pace. 

"Need to remind you how perfect you are" He mumbled, lips on your neck as he leaves a mark, his free hand spreading your other thigh slightly further to angle his hips up to that spot. 

"Fuck. Y' feel so good." Nagi added, ramming into you continuously, his grip on your thigh. "Sei, 'm close!" You whimper out in response your head moving back as you gripped on the sheets. 

After a few final thrusts, you both reached your high as you lie restless. 

"I love you." You mumble out as Nagi basically collapses on you.

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again" 

"I love you."

And the cycle repeats until he falls asleep.

[wingerwind]

SHINYDUO YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS THEY ARE INSANE FOR THHIS

So…that conversation Gem and Pearl had at the start of episode 6, huh…is anybody else feeling 100% normal about them.

Because, like, Pearl is all “everything we make gets destroyed that’s how it works” or something and Gem is like, “IDK, I just got here”

Gem doesn’t really get it yet I think. She got a taste of the emotional gut punch in Secret Life but Pearl has already gone through it four times. She knows how quick everything changes and stuff…

ALSO I find it interesting how Gem references “the game”. It’s just a game huh…but the emotional wounds are very real…even if the world isn’t technically… anyways excited to see where this goes next episode.

I don’t have media literacy so I cannot put my thoughts into words but I hope I’ve conveyed my feelings at least.

About the art…well. I experimented. It didn’t. Really. Work. Back to the drawing board. (But literally)

this pose is one hundred percent original and if you’ve seen five other pieces with a similar composition with similar vibes no you haven’t (gaslighting)

I’m sweating after how fast I worked to get this done before episode 7. Someone save me my head is spinning (it’s probably the sleep deprivation)

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

Happy late Thanksgiving! Can I request those blurbs you have been doing for Willy? Like the reader and William x cockwarming while watching a movie with Alex.

happy late thanksgiving! you absolutely can request a willy blurb bc i’ve decided it’s nylander week up until sunday lol (long fic going up later today!!!)

so okay you and william aren’t like total freaks so you don’t actively start cockwarming him when alex is in the room, you’d started like half an hour before

it’s a slow day, quiet and william’s done with practice for the day and doesn’t have a game, so you’re taking advantage of that to spend some time together. he wants to watch a movie so you put on some new release and join him on the couch

one thing leads to another and his cock is pulled from his pants and your shorts are tossed to the floor while your panties are pushed to the side so william can slide his cock into you

“don’t move, älskling,” he murmurs in your ear, pulling your back to his chest and wrapping his arms around your stomach. “i want to watch this”

you don’t know if he means the movie or you slowly falling apart on his cock

the angle he has you at means his cock is pressed right up against your g-spot and you’re already whining from the constant stimulation and lack of movement

“will,” you whine, reaching your hands down to try and rub at your clit but he grabs them and holds them in his, pressing your hands against your stomach too

every time you try to wiggle, william holds you tighter and finally you give up, resigning yourself to the overly full, but no relief feeling of his cock buried balls deep in your cunt. he rests his chin on your shoulder and every time his breath ghosts against your cheek, you clench around him. he warns you to stop, that you’re not allowed to come until the movie is over

and then alex comes home, the door clattering open and you nearly jump right off william’s lap - you don’t need his brother seeing you so exposed, you’ve run into him in the hallway and he’s seen you in a towel, but spread wide over william’s cock feels like too much. william mumbles for you to shush and grabs a blanket off the back of the couch to toss of your lap. “stay still or alex is gonna know,” he teases before calling out, “wanna watch a movie with us?”

alex shrugs and joins, tossing his body onto the other side of the couch and you squeak out a greeting, trying to keep your breathing under control. unfortunately for you, the threat of getting caught is only making you hornier and wetter, arousal slicking up william’s cock and dripping over his lap

william subtly thrusts up into you, testing your control and you can feel a bead of sweat roll down your spine, your clit twitching and throbbing from the pressure of william’s cock

the brothers have some conversation about the movie and you don’t understand how william can behave so normally, you feel like you could combust and you’re pretty sure the whole condo smells like sex. alex keeps looking at you periodically, eyebrows furrowed like he wants to ask a question, but doesn’t

at some point, william’s hands disappear beneath the blanket and he toys with your clit, making it nearly impossible for you to focus on anything but staying normal. you fail miserably of course, biting down hard on your lower lip and coming on william’s cock with barely any effort

you manage somehow not to moan loudly, but alex definitely knows what happened because he raises an eye brow at you and smirks, laughing. william kisses the side of your neck and mumbles, “thought i told you not to come until the movie was over?”

“i was sabotaged,” you scowl back, flushed with your orgasm and embarrassment

“if it’s any consolation,” alex replies nonchalant, “your pants are halfway to the door so i knew what was happening before you just came.”

it doesn’t make you feel better and william grins at alex, “you should feel the way her sweet little cunt just gripped my cock. i think she likes it that you’re here. isn’t that right, älskling? if you ask nicely, i’ll share.”

[nyantry]

"It's a red Camaro," he said, giggling as he explained, "Boxy, like uh... pretty sure it's from the sixties or something? Old hunk of trash, I swear, I didn't really have money to keep it all nice-looking. Only had it cause some old man gave it to me in exchange for this huge mural he wanted and I figured it was a fair exchange. Last I saw it..." he paused to think. "Last I saw it was near where I used to live when we met, the person I sold it to was local. I don't have any contact info but I can text you the plate number, just remind me later, my phone's dead."

Dmitry had no doubt that Nico would be able to locate the car... and obtain it. But it was one of those things where he knew better than to ask for the finer details on Nico's methodology. Bought, stolen, or Jedi-mind-tricked, it didn't really matter to him. It had been more wishful thinking than a demand of a request, anyhow, and if for some reason Nico couldn't find the car, that was no big deal either.

Dmitry made a mental note to ask more about Caim later. That name had come up once or twice, and he knew it was one of Nico's... not-brothers? Demon relations were something still shrouded in mystery to Dmitry. But certainly, Caim was one associated with Murmur in some way, he thought. He hadn't realized Nico was still in contact with Caim, or any of the other demons for that matter. It just wasn't the right time to ask right now, either. The littlest angel was enjoying joking around with Nico and being lighthearted. It felt good, and it felt good to be back.

Nico even promised to get their black parade of ghosts on the game invite list, earning a pleased grin from the emo angel. He rested against Nico feeling distinctly like he would never leave the space between Nico's arms and chest. That kind of closeness, more than just by virtue of being freely-given affection, was especially pleasant because of the relief from closing the distance between their stitched-up souls. He pushed away a memory from the one time they'd had the chance to truly share the same space and swim in each other. It was unobtainable right now. It was better not to dwell. Besides...

Jovan showed up, as Dmitry had been certain he would.

"Sorry! I keep forgetting you're like... It's hard to call out at a normal volume when I can't see ya, I forget," he shrugged. "But see? You're down to show up at the ghost party, it's all good! It's okay if you disappoint me some other time, I got me a Nico," he said, punctuating the thought with a kiss for Nico.

Dmitry wanted his old car back? Nico was clueless. This was obviously before him, but what this halfling heard was a wish.

"Just give me some clues on where it last was and your wish is my command. I'll be your genie for a day, babe. You want it and I'll figure it out for you."

He crossed his arms like the genie on Aladdin. "Poof, what do you need? Your old car? Oh, okay. Just give me some time and the great Nicosa will find it for you."

He was not even worried about who had it last or whether they willing to give it back. Bah. Willing was a word he was good at getting people to feel.

He just laughed about the dishonor shit. All good joking around. "Just don't fuck with Caim's cows. He's weird about his cows. I don't know. It's a Caim thing. Fucker talks to cows. Go figure." He laughed.

He liked being trapped in by Dmitry. Felt like good times, old times, normal, good, old times. He didn't have to cling if Dmitry was already clinging.

Game explained and it seemed like Dmitry got the jist even in his scattered way of explaining.

"Then that's on list. I'll get right on it. Ghost parade." He wobbled his brow and Spocked one up. "Black parade for the invite list and we'll ask them to play."

Then Dmitry was on the ball already hollering for Jovan. The closest ghost usually.

Jovan's voice would vibrate in Nico's ears. "Aint gotta yell, bruh. Aint gotta yell."

He slowly manifested into a transparent version of himself and said, "But no promises on the not disappointing thing. That's pretty much been my M.O. my whole life. Pretty sure it doesn't change in the afterlife. I disappointed my momma. It's very possible I'll disappoint you too, buddy. That said I'll come to your party. Wherever a ghost party shall be found will be the souls that can get down. That would be moi." He pointed at himself.

[defiledtomb]

there's this really deep belief in me that says I can't post anything related to ouro anywhere anymore & I hate it & I hate it & I hate it. I have so much !! to say :(

[ddruxyart]

At this point the bully has become the bullied but he keeps coming back for more??