#i. i'm trying to look it up to see if it actually is a water type and my pokédex is failing me hold on

[standfortheangels]

@euphorbic

It doesn't really follow the same pattern as these, and I don't know if it'll help, but I myself was cured of a really bad spider phobia. As a grown adult I would be reduced to tears if I got stuck somewhere with a spider, and I genuinely used to think, 'If I got trapped in a burning building, and there's a spider- even a tiny one or a dead one- between me and the only exit.... I'm dead.'

I got fixed through gradual exposure therapy (which worked Amazingly btw, I Highly recommend it) and there were a couple of moments that I want to highlight, because I never in my wildest dreams expected them.

Being a step-by-step thing, I went from looking at pictures of spiders, to watching videos of them, to sitting with a real one in a jar in the room, and so on.

At the video stage, my therapist had me watch one video on a loop until I calmed down and could watch it without fear. It was of a spider falling into a full sink, flailing its way to the edge, and climbing back out using a flannel that was left there. And then it would show a real close-up as the spider brushed the water droplets off of its gross, buggy, hairy body and head. At least, that's how I felt the first few times. But one loop around, I suddenly realised that the way it cleaned its head.. it was doing the exact movement my dog does when she cleans her face with her paws. (She's a weird dog. I swear poodles are half feline) For a brief moment... I looked at that spider and saw my sweet little pup, and then had to tell my therapist "I just thought that spider looked CUTE." in, honestly a bit of a 'what have you done to me' tone, but we had a laugh about it

The next moment was a bit further on, and happened at home.

As someone who had this phobia since childhood, I don't know how many times someone told me this, and I'm sure you'll have heard it too;

"It's more afraid of you than you are of it."

I used to hate this phrase, because it didn't help at all. Also because, I think they were underestimating how afraid I actually was. But one day in my room, I noticed a little spider on a houseplant of mine. Normally, this would be a disaster. I don't kill spiders- it's not fair that it should die just because I'm afraid- but I was WAY too scared to be able to catch them and put them outside. So I would just sit there, terrified, but staring at it because I was also terrified of losing sight of it, because then it could be Anywhere. I would sit afraid, moving away if it got too close but never looking away, just waiting for someone to rescue me.

But this time, I was in therapy. This time, I'd learned that I could desensitise myself if I was patient. So I sat on my bed and watched it. And once I wasn't very scared anymore, I edged closer. The spider went around the stem/trunk of the plant, so I had to lean forward to look around and keep watching it. It froze for a second, then went to the side I couldn't see Again. I moved to see it again, and I saw it's legs moving a lot, and it turning to look in different directions. It was like it didn't know what to do or where to go.

And then I realised.. it was panicking. It wasn't just wandering around this plant being a mindless little bug thing- it was going where I couldn't see it, on purpose. It had noticed me, and was trying to Hide. This tiny creature saw a massive Human closing in on it, and now it was frantically trying to get out of sight.

I sat back immediately, and felt so bad for it. In that moment I realised, that old phrase wasn't Just there to dismiss or deny my fear- it was true. This spider was genuinely terrified. And all the times I'd felt completely trapped by my fear meant I knew exactly what this spider was going through. And I wanted it to find somewhere it could feel safe again. I wanted it to know I wasn't a threat to it, so I moved away and stopped staring. It was eye-opening, to say the least. I'd never stopped to actually consider whether spiders have emotions or not before, but watching that one proved to me that they definitely do. They really are just. Little animals, that don't want to be in our space, like any other wild animal. It took a while to process and sorta shifted my view of them entirely. And for the first time in my life, I felt okay losing sight of a spider in my room.

A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad

[ms-demeanor]

I appreciate you starting a conversation about the harms of homeopathy, and I just want to mention that homeopathy/alternative medicine is also largely BS when it comes to treating our pets. A lot of essential oils and herbal remedies are toxic to cats and dogs even in small quantities, but people still try using them as flea and tick prevention because they don’t want to use “toxic” medicine that actually works. CBD isn’t FDA approved for dogs because it’s not been proven to be effective and safe, but a lot of folks have pushed me to try it for my dog because he’s on medication for extreme anxiety. Some folks will seek out animal chiropractors to “treat” their dog’s IVDD or hip dysplasia instead of pursuing pain management or surgical treatment. People think that vets look at their pets and see dollar signs instead of an animal needing treatment and turn to snake oil salesmen instead. It’s maddening.

Yeah that makes me fucking crazy.

@drferox and @why-animals-do-the-thing are great resources on tumblr who have spent a ton of time discussing animal woo in the past; both have slowed down on posting because life is hard and tumblr is tumblr, but both have done a lot of excellent writing about things like animal training, raw pet food, vaccination, and how to be a good human to your pets. If you've got questions about animals, search their archives and you're probably going to find a ton of useful information.

Folks, I swear veterinarians aren't coming for your wallets and they are generally criminally under-compensated for the work that they do. They're brilliant professionals who are driven by passion and fucked by the market.

Sorry i went to go find some studies on dogs and cbd and i ended up finding a reprint of a small study from the american holistic veterinary medical association and I found this on the pdf and i'm going to murder somebody

for those who are not aware young living is an essential oil mlm largely targeting mormon housewives that was started by a man whose child died being drowned at birth in an at-home-water-birthing incident and who himself likely died of cancer he tried to treat with essential oils.

This is one of those things that's like a big flashing neon sign that the study/journal you're looking at is a hot pile of bullshit.

Anyway. Yeah. Research supporting the safety and effectiveness of CBD on dogs is pretty thin on the ground. Your pets depend on you. The choices you make determine their health and wellbeing.

Listening to woo-peddlers who tell you not to vaccinate, or who hype up untested "healthy grain free diets," or who promote and sell cbd in absence of evidence of its effectiveness is putting your pets hands in the health of someone who doesn't care about your pet, they just care about profit.

Also, while I'm here: don't feed your dog grain free foods unless they have a diagnosed allergy, grain free foods can lead to liver and kidney problems, dogs are more omnivorous, not obligate carnivores like cats and grain is not bad for their diet nor unnatural for them to eat, and there are very few brands that have done decades of feeding tests on dogs (Royal Canin, Hills Science Diet, Pedigree, Eukanuba, and Iams) and none of them are Blue Buffalo.

Appeals to nature are extremely common in online woo discussions of pet food and vet care. Your dog is not a wolf and does not need to eat like a wolf. Your cat is not a lion and does not need to claim territory like a lion.

Vaccinate your pets, don't let them wander, feed them tested diets, and listen to your vet's advice on their care.

[kpop---scenarios]

N.D.A

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x Reader

Warning: Smut [unprotected, oral. f receiving, m. receiving, some choking, ass slap etc.] 18+. MDNI

Summary: Your eyes are on Hyunjin, Jeongin's eyes are on you. How can you say no to signing an NDA?

Word Count: 2.3k

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon

@dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

@satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97

@1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat

@pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog

@anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr

@jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13

@stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez

@stayatinykatsy @catlove83 @jeonginstulip @kaleigh-2002

@honeycombbaybee @hyuneyeon @flylis @kpop-choco

@chloe-elise-2000 @eastjonowhere @stephanieeeyang @nightmarenyxx

@0325tiny @m1nn1everse

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for what was actually going to happen tonight.

“I'm going to sign an NDA tonight.” You smile at your friend Chae as the two of you walk into the sound check for the Stray Kids concert.

“Oh?” She chuckles. “I would bow down to you for the rest of our lives if you were given an NDA. Especially if it was from Hwang Hyunjin.” She laughs.

“He's my bias, who else would it be from?” You laugh, walking towards the barricade at the side of the stage. You'd been to plenty of concerts before, but never at the barricade and never at a skz concert. To say you were excited was a complete understatement. Your entire body was buzzing, partially from the shots you and Chae had taken before you arrived, but mostly because you were about to see your bias in real life, right in front of you.

A few minutes later, the music begins and the boys come out, starting off sound check with Walkin On Water. Your eyes were so focused on Hyunjin the entire time, you barely noticed anyone else, at first. It wasn't until they were almost done with sound check that Chae decided she needed to say something to you.

“Hey.” She says, nudging you with her elbow.

“Jeongin has not left this side of the stage for almost the entire sound check. You should have seen his face when he first noticed you.” She giggles. You rolled your eyes at her, there was absolutely no way that was even happening.

“They probably just have certain spots they're supposed to be in.” You tell her as they leave the stage to get ready for the concert.

“Then why was everyone else moving around the entire stage, but Jeongin didn't?” She asks. “He was definitely eye fucking you.”

“As fucking if.” You laugh. You watched as the crowd began to disperse. You grabbed onto Chae's hand, dragging her away from the barricade. “Let's get a drink before it starts.” You say, trying to forget what she said but that was easier said than done. Especially when you two made it back to your spots, Just before the doors opened for everyone else and the entire area began filling up to capacity.

As the concert starts you watch Hyunjin, but your eyes also seem to keep glancing at Jeongin, and everytime they do, you notice his eyes on you. You look away each time, a smile creeping onto your face as it blushes bright red. You couldn't believe it.

You?

He was staring at you?

Why?

Your heart began to thump in your chest, and you stopped trying to look away from him. Your eyes remained on him for longer than you cared to admit but you couldn't help it. You smile as he smiles at you while singing and you swore you could have exploded. Shivers run down your spine as he walks closer to your area, bending down, smiling and waving at everyone. Until his eyes land on you. He looks down, slowly trailing your body before he gets back to your eyes. You reach your hand out, he grabs it, rubbing your hand with his finger. You're so focused on the fact that he was touching you, you didn't notice his smile leaving his face as he lets go and stands up, but still looking at you. He slyly sends a wink to you before he turns around, dancing and singing with the others.

“Did he just…” Chae yells. Your eyes are wide as you stare at her.

“He did.” You gasp, looking at the hand he just held.

“Looks like you're signing an NDA for Yang Jeongin.” She giggles.

“I'd sign that in a goddamn heart beat.”

**

A few hours later, the concert ends, and you're still on a buzzing high from the night. Jeongin spent all his time on your side, staring at you, dancing facing you, smiling and winking at you. Your heart rate was at an all time high and your panties were wet. As you and Chae turn, following the sad crowd out of the venue, you feel a hand on your shoulder, stopping you. You turn around, seeing an angry looking man with a STAFF shirt standing there, clipboard in hand.

“Miss, can you come with me please?” He asks, motioning you towards the stage instead of away from it.

Chae leans into you, whispering in your ear. “Sign that NDA and tell me everything at the hotel after.” She says. You laugh and nod your head, going with the man instead of her. She claps as you walk away, your nerves now setting in. You followed the man to the back of the stage, up the stairs where he handed you the clipboard. You smiled as you read the top.

‘NON DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT.’

You didn't read the rest. You didn't need to. YYou signed the bottom of it and he ushered you towards the back. You were getting excited, until he stopped mid step, his finger pressing against his ear.

“Copy that.” He says, turning around towards you. “I'm sorry, but something has come up. You'll need to leave.” He tells you.

Disappointment suddenly fills your body and you're not sure what you can say.

“Okay.” You whisper, you turn to leave as the man walks off.

What a disappointing end to the night.

You made your way back to your hotel, thinking about all the things that could have possibly happened with Jeongin. What things would he have done to you? How would he have been in bed? Would he have had you go down on him?

You shuffled your feet into the hotel, dreading going up to your room and giving Chae absolutely nothing.

You sighed heavily as you pressed the up button on the lobby elevator, completely unaware of your surroundings. Someone stands beside you but you don't look to see who it is like you usually do. You wanted to wallow in your self pity instead. The elevator door opens, you step inside head still down.

“Which floor?” The person asks, his voice is familiar.

“7 please.” You say, looking up.

Yang Jeongin stands there smiling at you, pressing the number seven for you, before hitting 15 for himself. You're star struck. Your mouth hangs open as you stare at him.

“I'm sorry about earlier.” He whispers. “There was a VIP we needed to meet.”

“It's okay.” You say, clearing your throat. “You guys are very popular.”

“You're very beautiful.’” He tells you, walking closer.

Your breath hitches. He stands before you, close enough you can smell his cologne wafting from him.

“S-so are you.” You respond.

“I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you after the concert, y/n.” He says.

“You know my name?” You question.

“You signed the NDA,” he says.

“Without hesitation.” You add.

He leans in closer to you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” you breathe.

He smirks, suddenly his lips are on yours. His body pins you against the wall of the elevator, his hands pressed onto the wall as he slips his tongue into your mouth. The elevator stops, the doors open on your floor. He pulls away from you.

“This is your floor.”

“I'd rather go to yours.” You murmur. He smiles, kissing you once again. The doors close, the elevator goes up, and his hands roam your body, slipping under your shirt, grabbing your tits. You moan into his mouth. His hands move down, over your skirt and onto your bare leg. Once he touches skin, he moves his hands under your skirt, gently caressing your thigh before he moves over, grazing his hand over your clothed pussy, sending a jolt through your body. The elevator dings, and he moves away from you. Clearing his throat before he grabs your hand, pulling you out and into the hallway. You see security wandering the floor, he gives them a nod before he pulls out his key, opening the door to his luxurious suite. You walk in, he closes and locks the door behind him as you're taking in the large and very beautiful suite.

“I've never done this before.” you tell him.

You were nervous, now. You weren't sure how this was all going to work.

“Neither have I.” Jeongin says. You turn, giving him a look. There's no way he hasn't done something like this before.

“You? You haven't? I don't believe that.” You chuckle.

“I've never seen someone in the crowd at a concert that I've had such bad thoughts about, I needed them to sign an NDA so I could fuck them.” He says. “But you. Fuck. I couldn't stop thinking about how you tasted, what you'd look like with your lips wrapped around my cock, how you'd be with my cock so deep inside you.” He murmurs, walking up to you.

“Oh.” You whisper. You're frozen in your spot.

“Strip.” He says.

You stare at him, your mind blanked, you were unable to process what he said.

“I said, strip, y/n.” He says.

You don't look away from him. You take off your shirt, dropping your skirt to the floor.

“Everything.” He says.

You unhook your bra, dropping it onto the pile of your discarded clothes before taking off your panties.

“Fuck.” He groans, crashing his lips onto yours. He moves the two of you towards his bed, never breaking the kiss. He pushes you down onto the bed, licking his lips as he takes you lying before him in. “Spread your legs.”

You open your legs, Jeongin drops to his knees, grabbing onto your thighs, spreading them wider. He leans in, using the flat of his tongue to lick up your already wet cunt. The tip of his tongue flicks your clit, twirling circles around it before he latches his lips, gently sucking. You gasp, eyes rolling back as you grab your tits, rolling your nipples between your fingers.

“Fuck, right there.” You cry out. “Oh my god.”

Jeongin switches between sucking and licking, making your back arch each time.

“I'm close.” You murmur, and he pulls away.

“Why?” You whimper, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“I want you to cum on my cock, not from my mouth.” He says, licking his lips to clean up your mess. He quickly undresses himself, his cock springing free. You can see the glistening of his precum seeping from his tip.

Jeongin gets on the bed, laying down with his hands behind his head as he watches you hover over him, opening your mouth to take his cock. You suck his tip, swirling your tongue around, lapping up his cum before moving down. You take as much of him as you can, he reaches out, grabbing onto your hair, holding you there as he thrusts up, slamming his cock into the back of your throat.

He moans loudly while you gag on his cock, your eyes filling with tears as he pushes himself down your throat as much as he can. He groans as he lets you up, catching your breath. You laugh, he stares at you, cum and spit dripping down your chin, your mascara running down your face.

“So fucking hot.” He groans. He pushes himself up on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. “Ride me.” He says.

You don't question it. You crawl to him, straddling him before you sink down on his cock.

“Shit.” You gasp as he stretches out your hole.

“So fucking tight.” He moans, slapping your ass. You tighten your cunt around him, his hands move to your hips. He digs his fingers into you, helping you bounce on his cock. As your tits bounce in his face, he lets out a moan, moving his hands to grab one. He wraps his lips around your nipple as you grind on his cock, your clit throbbing, desperate for your release. He leans back again, your nails run down his chest. He reaches up, his hand wrapping around your throat. He squeezes while you continue to ride him.

“Fuck.” You gasp, your orgasm building so fucking quickly.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He asks, letting go of you. You nod your head, squeezing your eyes shut. He leans forward, you wrap your arms around him, holding him closely as you ride him, your tits rubbing against his chest, his hands grabbing your ass, helping you.

“Cum.” He gasps. “Cum all over my fucking cock.”

“Oh god.” You cry, your orgasm shooting through your body. You slow down, trying to ride through your high but that doesn't work for Jeongin. He helps you off of him, pushing you down onto the bed. He holds your legs up as he thrusts inside of you, fucking you so hard as he chases his own orgasm.

“I'm gonna… fuck.” He groans. “I'm gonna cum.” He groans. A few more thrusts, his orgasm flows through his body, his load spilling into you. He throws his head back as he takes a few deep breaths. He pulls his cock out of you and collapses on the bed beside you.

“That was fun.” You laugh, your eyes still closed.

“That was.” Jeongin chuckles with you. You take a deep breath, knowing you'll have to get up and go right away. You don't want to leave.

“Can I use the bathroom before I go?” you ask, opening one eye to look over at him.

“We have 3 more nights here.” He says with a yawn. “Do you have plans for the next 3 days?” He asks.

“No.” You answer, giving him a look.

He grins widely at you.

“Good.” He says. “I wanna see how many times I can make you cum.”

[mythicmanuscripts]

I’m thinking about the sub!Aegon that thrives on skin contact and nuzzles into the reader’s chest. Going along with his mommy kink, do you think this would also have him wanting to suck on reader’s breasts as a way to comfort himself when he’s had a bad day?

I know you don’t write pregnancy stuff and I hope I’m not violating your limits on what you don’t write for! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable

Aw I love this! Also thank you for taking note of the fact that I don't write pregnancy related content. I'm perfectly happy to write this type of thing, I think it would stray into an area where I'd be uncomfortable if it involved lactation. This is perfect though!

This answer is mostly just soft and sweet but since there's literal titty sucking and implied sexual conduct I'll hide it behind a cute. Enjoy!

Right so firstly, I have said this before and I will undoubtedly say this again but, Aegon has an oral fixation. An absolutely massive oral fixation. He's always wanting something in his mouth, always!! He'll often chew on his shirt cuff or his necklace or quill. The only time he'll drink water without a single complaint is when there's a straw in the cup and then he'll very happily sip it slowly and even once it's finished he'll just keep the straw in his mouth, sucking a little and chewing on it.

He tries to hide this at first from you, because it's definitely something others have noticed and teased him for. His mother has told him multiple times that he needs to grow out of it but he can't help it!!! He often doesn't even realise he's doing it, and if he tries to stop then he'll get all antsy and wriggly, bouncing his leg or tapping his knee or twirling his hair, anything to try and get the same sort of fidgeting calmness but nothing else is as good.

But despite how hard it is to stop, he really really tries to once he meets and bonds with you. He's never had someone he wanted so badly to please before and he'd actually just start sobbing if he did something that made you think he was embarrassing.

Needless to say, this attempt at keeping this from you fails almost immediately. He already struggles to control the urges if he's trying his hardest to concentrate on not doing it, so to try and control when he's with you and you start to look after him and his little mind turns off? Absolutely no chance.

How is he supposed to keep any train of thought for longer than two seconds when you're holding his hand and calling him pretty? That battle was lost before it even began.

But he does try. In the beginning it was easier because he didnt know you as well so he wasnt as comfortable. He was able to keep himself more or less contained because he didnt see too much of you and had even less time alone with you. That arrangement can't last forever of course, and before long you two get closer and closer and then the real struggles starts. His main strategy to try and save himself is just not allowing himself anywhere anything that he could chew on. Maybe what breaks it is when he's tired?

A few months into the relationship he finds himself unable to fall asleep. Aegon always struggles to sleep if he thinks he's done something wrong. If someone yells at him or calls him a failure or tells him he didnt do something right then he'll often be awake the whole evening, unable to calm down or get over it.

Except now he's never alone in his bed anymore, and so he can't just curl up in a little ball and chew on the cuff of his sleep shirt. Well, that's what he tells himself. He tells himself that he won't do it with you there, but then you see how unsettled he seems and you let him curl up against your chest and you kiss his head and well.... the cuff is in his mouth before he even realises.

You spot it of course, but you don't say anything because seemed to have finally calmed down. You ask him about it the next morning and he blushes so red he looks sunburnt, and then immediately starts promising he'll try his best not to do it anymore. It breaks your heart to see how guilty and ashamed he seems over something that clearly brought him some level of comfort. You promise you won't judge him or it and say you don't mind at all. Even though you say this, he still tries to stop, though all future attempts are absolutely useless.

The first time he uses any part of your body for it is after you've dommed him and cleaned him up. You get him into bed, wrapping as many blankets around him as possible and then you cup his cheek, gently tilting his head upwards so he can see you when you say you're just running to the kitchens to get him a snack and promise you'll be back in less than 10 minutes.

Only, Aegon doesn't even hear the end of the sentence because you're gently stroking his cheek with your thumb and he's so sleepy and happy and utterly incapable of any thoughts at all, nevermind any rational thoughts. So he turns his head slightly and takes your thumb into his mouth, gently sucking on it. You're stunned, not only from the action but also how happy he seems? He was sitting up on the bed but now he's basically leaning over, trusting you to hold most of his weight. When you stroke his hair with your other hand he hums around your thumb and clumsily tries to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

Needless to say, you never end up leaving to get the snacks because you get pulled into bed and have a lap full of happy, clingy, fucked out Aegon for the rest of the night. It gets more and more common from there, and you even start to notice the signs in his behaviour that means he'll be asking for that later.

I think using your breasts for this would first come about after sex one night. Sometimes the only way to settle Aegon is so push him as close as possible to limit, to wring out every orgasm you again until the poor thing can barley even speak (it basically resets him). After things like that you always stay in bed for a while. You don't get out of bed to clean up and fetch things and do all those other aftercare chores until much later because aegon needs immediate cuddles or else he'll spiral. You've just taken him apart completely so you can't just leave him like that.

That's how you end up laying in bed naked with a very tired Aegon who has been reduced to whines and huffs. You pull him against your chest and then he actually starts paying at your chest? You're so confused and you pull away just enough to look at him. Of course this is absolutely no help because he just whines and continues what he's doing.

You eventually realise what he wants and then you lay down on your back and pull him closer, essentially just scooping him up and letting him curl around you. He instantly goes for your breast, taking your nipple in to his mouth. You worry he might be too harsh but actually he's so so soft? He barely even sucks, mostly just keeps it in his mouth and nuzzlings into you. He falls asleep within 10 minutes.

From there he does it often, first only as aftercare and then after that whenever he needs it.

In conclusion, that little fucker is lucky he's cute.

[two-birds-and-a-bush]

you smile as you watch him from your vantage point on the couch. the bulge of his diaper is visible under the size-larger-than-usual jeans he's wearing, and it's shifting quite a bit under his pants as he steps from foot to foot while he searches for something on the bookshelf. you're sure he's trying to be subtle, but you know exactly what's going on, and it's turning you on like nothing else.

finally he selects a book and settles down on the couch next to you, a pained expression twisting his face. you smile and put your hand on his knee, casually pulling his legs open, which of course causes him to whine and slam them shut again. you smile. "something wrong, baby? you look a little tense."

"it's nothing," he mutters, jiggling his leg.

you decide to drop the matter, knowing that the longer you can spin this out, the more delicious the end results will be. he opens his book and you go back to scrolling on your phone, watching him out of the corner of your eye the whole time. he's squirming more and more; he must know he's being wildly obvious about the problem at this point, but he's still too shy to say anything directly. you can't help but notice that he's barely turned a page in the time since he's sat down, and he's bouncing his leg constantly, occasionally letting out a whimper and pressing his legs even tighter together as an especially strong urge seems to hit him. you're rubbing your legs together too, barely resisting the urge to slip your own hand into your pants at the sight of his desperation.

it's more this than anything that leads you to push the game further. "hey babe, could you get me a glass of water?"

he gives you a desperate look, but he can't deny the request without giving up his secret. slowly, as if every move pains him, he puts down the book and stands up, wincing as the inevitable surge of desperation hits him. with small steps, he shuffles to the kitchen, occasionally pausing to bounce in place a little, and you watch gleefully as he takes a glass out of the cupboard and reluctantly makes his way to the sink. as he turns his back to you to turn on the tap, you slip a hand between your own legs and start teasing yourself over your pants, biting your lip to mute your own moan when he starts frantically dancing from foot to foot as the sound of the running water hits his ears. he hurries back to you and hands you the glass, then jams both hands between his legs with a whine.

you take only a sip before pretending to finally notice his distress. "are you sure you're okay, honey? it really seems like something's wrong. you can tell me, you know."

he shakes his head, stubbornly pressing his knees together. "I'm fine!"

"well, alright," you say. "you know, I'm not actually that thirsty after all. do you want the rest of this water?"

his eyes flare with panic. "no, I'm okay--"

"you need to make sure you're hydrated, baby. when's the last time you drank something?"

"I-- I don't know--"

"see, that just means you need to drink more. come on, drink up." you press the glass into his hand, and he takes one reluctant sip before he stops to bend forward and squeeze his legs together, pushing the glass back at you so he can use both his hands to hold himself again. "I-I'm sorry, I can't!"

you prop your chin on your hand and smile sweetly at him. "and why would that be, baby?"

"because-- because I need to pee!" he cries, and the words are music to your ears (and your lower regions too). with this admission he doubles down on the potty dance, hopping frantically from foot to foot, alternately crossing one leg over the other as he whines in pure desperation.

"oh, baby," you croon in mock sympathy. "it's okay, you've got your diaper on. come and sit in my lap, and just try to relax. you can pee in your diaper, it's okay."

he shuffles over and positions himself in your lap, whining as he bucks his hips against yours to help him hold. the friction is too much for you to keep your composure anymore; you groan into his shoulder as you grab his hips, pulling him closer to you and grinding against him. he moans, though you can't tell if it's due to desperation or arousal.

"let go, baby," you murmur, as he pulls back to grab the front of his pants and whimpers. "just let go. it's okay."

"I--I can't--"

"you can, baby. you're wearing a diaper, it will hold all your pee. just relax, let it alllll flow out, soak that nice thick diaper--"

he gasps, and you hear a spurt of pee shoot out before he frantically presses into you to stop the flow, holding himself even tighter, and god, you thought you were turned on before. "no, I mean, I really can't-- I--"

you raise an eyebrow. this sounds new, not a part of play you were expecting. is something genuinely wrong?

"I-I-I," he blushes, and uses his free hand to cover his eyes, "I, I already used my diaper earlier, and I was too embarrassed to tell you, so now it's already full and I... I need a new one right now!"

"oh g-god," you manage as the full scope of the situation hits you and you thrust your hips into his, swept off your feet with lust by the knowledge that he might actually be about to wet through his pants if you don't do something quickly. "oh, baby, I," you grit your teeth and force yourself to go back into your role, "I've gotta get you changed right now then. come on, come with me."

he hops off your lap, dancing, both hands jammed between his legs, and runs in front of you to the bedroom where you keep your supplies, whimpering as the first spurts start to leak out of his diaper and wet the thighs of his pants. "I can't, I can't, it's coming out, I can't..."

"you can, baby, you can," you gasp as you dig through the drawers for a fresh diaper and whip his changing pad onto the ground. he steps onto it, dancing desperately. "just lie down for me and I'll get you a fresh diaper to pee in. you're so close, baby, just lie down."

he whines and clutches himself, thighs clamped together, eyes screwed shut with effort as he lowers himself down onto the mat. you kneel down next to him and start undoing the buttons of his jeans, but his hands are in the way, and he whimpers when you try to move them away. "baby, I'm going to need you to move your hands if you want me to change you."

"I can't, I can't, I need to pee so bad--"

"hold it," you say, as you grab his wrists and move his hands away, going back to undoing his jeans as fast as you can. he shoves his hands into the front of his diaper to hold himself anew, but despite his best efforts the leak on his pants is getting bigger, and just as you get his pants open and start undoing a tab on his diaper he gasps. "it's coming out, it's coming out, it's-- it's--"

"hold it, baby--"

"I can't," and that's when you hear hissing as his poor overstretched bladder empties into his soaked diaper, which of course starts leaking into his pants almost immediately. you groan at the sight of his pee overflowing the diaper, and pull the sodden diaper off as you lay yourself next to him, pulling his body over yours so his pee streams onto your pants, soaking you as well as him. "just pee on me, baby, let it all out. good boy. good boy, good baby, you did so good trying to hold it for me. just go ahead and pee."

his lips find yours, and he's still peeing as your hands roam freely over one another's bodies, humping and grinding against each other among the puddles and soaked clothing and diapers.

diapered bf who is new to using them in front of you getting increasingly squirmy and obviously potty dancing, but when you try to get him to relax he just gets more and more upset until he finally has to admit that he used his diaper earlier and was too embarrassed to tell you, so he needs a new one right now

[imjustdreamingig]

Jesus, what's a girl to do?

Part 1

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Robin meddles, Steve is clueless, and you're freaking out. So a regular day.

A/N: i genuinely have no idea where this came from, i legit posted the first part like 2 years ago. but I guess I want to start actually writing more? idk! we shall see. anyways, this fic stems from my (occasional) exhaustion to shy!reader and i'm basing this more on how horrifically i acted around the guys i would like even tho i consider myself an extrovert. enjoy whatever this is??? and lmk if u want a part 3! also this is not proof read so bear w me

warnings: sfw, swearing, uhhh i think that's it???

You were screwed. Absolutely, terribly, fucking screwed.

You were also very angry at your mother, giving her a glare every time she glanced your way at the dinner table. She merely gave you a wink in return, not understanding the true implications of her actions.

"So, Steve," your mom began as she cut a bit of the chicken on her plate, "you play basketball, right? Is that something you want to keep doing in university?" This time, you openly stared at your mom, trying to telepathically convey that you would literally kill her if she kept talking. You haven't made up your mind if you're joking or not.

Steve cleared his throat, "Yeah, I do, I'd say I'm pretty good at it, too. Wherever I end up going, I'll probably join their team for fun." He turned to you after taking a bite of his meal, smirking. "You like basketball too, right?"

You choked on your water, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. You looked at Steve properly for practically the first time that night, but your voice never wavered. "No, not really, why?"

He turned back to his food, amusement gracing his voice. "Well, I see you and Robin sitting together at every game, even the away ones, so I just assumed." If your face could sport a visible blush, you knew it would be a bright red, hot, mess.

"Well, I- I get dragged by Robin because she doesn't like sitting alone or going to random schools by herself like, half an hour away. Do you even watch the news? Girls by themselves are basically the perfect bait for random kidnappings and stuff, especially girls in high school, like I mean the statistics for-"

"Y/N" You're rambling is halted by your mother's voice. Steve is looking at you in bemusement. You are contemplating death. The situation is not looking good.

"Could you grab me some water from the kitchen, with ice," your mother said with a strained smile, holding out her glass. You grab it and push your chair out. "Sure, yeah," you replied. As you made your way to the kitchen, your mind replays the last hour of the events that have transpired, wondering what you could've possibly done in your past life to deserve this.

How could your own mother, the woman who birthed you, ask the hottest guy in your grade if he wanted to stay for dinner and not consult you first, all whilst knowing you had the most ridiculous crush on the guy.

Betrayed by the ones closest to you. This is probably how Julius Caesar felt.

After overcoming your initial shock, and lets face it, mortification of being paired up with Steve for your English project, you attempted to the best of your abilities to push down your feelings and remain professional in order to actually work on the project and make sure you got an A. Your grades would not suffer over a stupid crush on a stupid boy, that's where you drew the line. Unfortunately, this plan was not working out so well.

It was actually failing, horrifically at that.

It had been about a month since the semester started and the project had been assigned—a complex analysis of a classic book of your choice and how that particular novel has inspired the creation of others and advanced its genre. You had to write a collaborative essay to hand in to your teacher, as well as create an interactive presentation for your classmates explaining your chosen novel.

This was all due at the end of the semester and you'd be given no in class time to work on it since you had an ample amount time to work on it outside of school. It would also replace the need for a final exam, which was great news. When your teacher had explained the project, you were ecstatic, knowing exactly what book you wanted to do: Pride and Prejudice.

Then, you remembered who you had to do the project with, this huge, daunting, complex, project, where you would need to interact with your partner in close proximity for an extended period of time. You felt faint.

Steve, in his defence, had tried to approach you on multiple occasions to try and figure out when you two should meet to try and start the project. But, obviously, whenever you saw so much as a glimpse of him in the hallway, you would make yourself scarce.

The only time he would actually be able to talk to you was in your shared English class. Robin was beginning to go crazy at your increasingly outlandish excuses as to why you couldn't meet up with Steve after school in order to work on your project.

"Oh sorry, my mom needs my help on some stuff tonight."

"I have to take my brother to soccer practice."

"I can't today, I have an eye doctor appointment."

"My dog actually needs to go to the vet, she's sick, sorry."

"My family and I are going on a road trip this weekend, so I'm not free."

"My sister broke her leg uh— skiing, and she needs help writing stuff for school."

"Funny story, Robin has a crazy ex thats trying to get her to meet up with him again, and I have to help her slash their tires and like, do girl stuff, it's personal, so I'm not free, maybe next week though?"

That last excuse is what caused Robin to snap. She knew that Steve knew that you were making shit up, Robin has never even been in a relationship, let alone have an ex. Also, you didn't even have a sister, what gives!

You also had no clue exactly how close the pair had gotten due to working together at the video store and that she'd told Steve she was into girls. Therefore, like the great best friend she was, Robin decided it was time she intervened, for everyones sake really, but mostly yours.

"God," you sighed, "I never thought I would be so into arms, like not the huge, bulging one, you know? All veiny and red, that just scares me, hello, his are just ones that are like slightly defined, but have a very obvious outline of muscle, like I can tell he's strong, and fuck, his biceps, is it bad that I want to like, bite them? Because every time I look and him and he's fixing his hair I just keep getting this urge to—wait where are you going? Robin? Ok, OK! I'll stop, I promise! Come back!"

If Robin had to hear another anecdote about how you wanted to bite his arms, she was going to puke.

Your continuous blabbering about how good Steve's hair looked or how good those jeans looked on him and your inability to have one proper conversation with him or stay in the same room as him for longer than two minutes was making her go insane. She couldn't take it anymore.

So, Robin devised a plan, which one day she was sure you would thank her for—hopefully.

First, she inconspicuously made sure that you had nothing planned for Thursday night, already knowing you were free but wanting to double check that no random stuff had come up.

Then, she called your mom, who absolutely adored Robin. She told her about your situation and how if she did nothing, your infatuation for Steve was literally going to give her an aneurysm. Robin would tell you that she wanted to hang out Thursday night so you would get ready, but instead of her showing up, it would be Steve.

Not surprisingly, your mom agreed to Robin's crazy plan. She thought it was about time you got a boyfriend. You had already talked about Steve so much to her anyways, but any time she would tell you to just try talking to the guy, you vehemently refused.

"Mom, are you insane, I'm not going to do that," you scoffed as if literally just having a conversation with another person was the most insane idea in the world.

"Mija, how else are you supposed to get to know people if you can't speak to them? Besides, you never seem to have a problem talking back to me whenever we have an argument," you mom shrugged as she continued folding the laundry you were helping her with.

"Oh come on," you sighed exasperatedly, "that's not the same thing and you know it."

"I'm just saying, by the looks of it, I don't think I'll be a grandmother."

"Mom, what, hello!?"

Getting Steve to show up at your house was easier than Robin thought. She conveniently told him right before the beginning of their shift on Thursday that you'd told Robin that they should all get together at your house to finally get started on the project. Robin smiled a bit wider than necessary when Steve enthusiastic agreed to go.

When Robin gave Steve your address and told him that she would be over a little later because she left some stuff at her house, that no, she didn't need a ride and that no, she was fine walking, Steve was none the wiser to her actual plan.

As Robin saw Steve pull out of her driveway and making his way to your house, she gave herself a mental pat on the back and started thinking about what movie she should watch after dinner, knowing that the school day tomorrow would be very entertaining.

When Steve rang your doorbell, he was still clueless about the real intentions of Robin's plan, but when you opened the door and he saw your eyes go wide and your mouth drop slightly open, almost as if you weren't expecting to see him, something clicked in his head.

This was going to be fun.

[romulusthethird]

Alt. Universe AU

Listen, Danny didn't mean to fall through that portal and end up in a pool of burning ectoplasm. But here he was, after another annoying meeting with Clockwork about time shenanigans and alternate selves, in said pool of goo.

It felt like he was being burned alive. His mouth opened involuntarily to scream, taking the green liquid into his mouth, into his lungs when he ran out of breath. He screams anew, actually hearing his voice in the dense goo. He sounds like nails digging into a chalkboard and dragging across it.

His Lichtenburg scars light up, glowing an eerie green, almost yellow.

He's going to drown. To actually die.

He kicks his feet, but it's as if he is trying to run in a dream. Too slow. His hands wave above him, pushing down. He kicks, and kicks, and kicks.

He can't breathe.

He's in so much pain--more pain than he's ever felt in his half-dead life.

And then, somehow, someway, he breaks through to the surface.

He gulps in the fresh, clean air with loud wheezes. He's still kicking his weakening legs, still moving his arms. He coughs, moving forward.

His feet touch the ground.

He wants to laugh, and to cry when he finally stands, waist still emerged in the hot ectoplasm. He gags, hacking and coughing, maybe even throws up a little, expelling the green goo back into the pool.

When he looks up, he's in a cave. It's tall and expansive, and he could kiss the damp, disgusting stone a few feet away from him.

He's alive.

He pulls himself out of the water, chest heaving, and lies on his back on the cool stone. His clothes are eaten through and barely resemble clothes. His skin steams and... is he glowing?

He is! His arm looks like he lost a battle with a Edward doll from those twilight movies. He's not sparkling, but it's like a faint shimmer out the corner of your eyes. Like something is trying to enchant you.

Is he some type of Fae?

And his nails... They're claws! Freaking claws! He moves his hand around, wiggling his fingers. They look lethal. Like a mon--

"And what do we have here?" A voice, deep and old, rang out.

Danny startles, not having heard anyone come in (and he has super hearing!) He sits up, hair falling around his face (did his hair grow????) and eyes taking in the old man and the people in black surrounding him.

"Who are you?" The man asks.

"...None of ya business."

"Everything is my business in my domain."

Danny stills. He looks closer at the man. He isn't a ghost, maybe a little liminal, but alive and well. "Who are you?" He shot back. "And what's you 'domain'?"

"Since you managed to find my personal Lazarus Pit, you know what I am. But, I suppose I'll humor you. My name is Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head. This is Nanda Parbat, my domain."

Nanda Parbat? What the heck? Demon's Head? "I don't know you. My name is Danny." Should he be giving random people who appear in caves with green pools of ectoplasm his government name? He doesn't know, but if it goes south he has the power to leave. And maybe that's also in his human form too, now, if the claws were any indication.

The old man hums. "How did you get here Danny?"

"I don't know. One minute I was--" He can't tell him that. That's not something a human should know. Not something someone living should know. "--Y'know at home and the next I'm waking up in this goo pool that burned me."

"You are a poor liar. Why shouldn't I slay you here and now?"

Danny snorts. "You can try."

The man's lips twitch in amusement. "Fascinating. Take him to the dungeons. We'll see how long you can endure before you spill all your secrets, dakhil."

Two men came forward to grab his arms. Danny wants to fight them, really, but he's so tired. He can escape later. For now, he lets these men pick him up and take him out of the cave and into what looks like a medieval castle.

"Do be careful not to damage him further before I can see to him."

Maybe that should scare Danny, but it doesn't. He's dragged past a courtyard full of training people, including a boy, lightning quick, fighting against a woman.

Their eyes meet--his, and the shocking blue of the stranger--before he is dragged further into his new temporary home.

He is leaving. He just needs to rest first.

Yes.

Rest...

-

--

---

----

-----

----

---

--

-

So, the plan for this AU is essentially, Dami never went to Gotham at the tender age of ten, and is still in the league (We are ignoring the "Ra's needs his body" canon because that does not fit here) and is still the heir. He's still his little murdery assassin self. I wanna say Danny is 15 here, (we are ignoring ALL CANON in this household today because Danny is not the ghost king and I can't remember shit about the tv show rn so my plan is like, he's strong right, but not like op insane, but like on par with superboy right, and he does errands for clocky and maybe goes through time/dimensions for him idk. I might make him come across half alien (like in those fics where hes kryptonian or martian, you get what I'm saying right) in this idk we're gonna find out together) and Dami is 16. The plan is to have Dami and the Danno fall in wuv and abscond to gotham together, for the glorious scene of "the son you never knew you had" showing up w his boyfriend. Thank you for coming to my ted talk. (the second part is already in my brain but I was up all night watching movies so you get this now, and that later.)\\

--

(also if you've read my shit before, and even if you haven't, I know that Dakhil isn't technically correct, since its using the wrong alphabet, and is not even remotely written how it sounds, but I purposefully do not use the correct alphabet because that is not what the character will hear. They won't hear دخيل, they're going to hear sounds and they won't be able to see the alphabet, so I figured why not just put the closest equivalent so readers can kinda understand what the character, in this case danny, is hearing? idk maybe it's stupid, but I digress. thanks for coming to ted talk numero 2)

(Also 2.0, the word means intruder.)

(i had something else to tell you, but I am genuinely fighting for my life against this headache rn. You cry a few dozen times watching Interstellar and suddenly you and your brain have beef)

--

(Lmaoo I remembered. it took me a sec, and the light from my computer is hurting my eyes, but I got distracted right, and remembered--

I almost had danny lie and tell them his name was Dante (which is what a lot of fanfic writers use for Dan) and was tempted to have him impersonate the other danny, and then when clockwork catches wind of his act, have dante come rescue him and get simultaneously confused and angry:

Dante coming to rescue his hopeless alt self Danny: wtf man why are you impersonating me? Danny-Dante, gasping dramatically: what do you mean you're Dante? I've always had this name! My great aunt Tilda gave it to me at the 75th annual Fenton christioning. Are you an imposter? Have you come to harvest my eggs? Dante: You don't have eggs Dante: and what the actual fuck is a christioning Danny-Dante: HA! see? Imposter. Doesn't even know about the christionings. Dante: you made that up Danny-Dante: Prove it. And so the other Danny went back to their dimension to see if so-called "Christionings" are real. He has to wait a year, and when he comes back, he is traumatized. A year later, Dante at Danny-Dante's door: I'm moving in. Danny-Dante: Did you bring Ellie?" Dante, shuddering: No... she enjoyed it. Danny-Dante: Oh god. come in come in. Hopefully she comes to her sense before yultol. Dante, dreading the answer: what is yul-- Danny-Dante: You don't want to know. You really, really don't.

That spiraled but yk. thanks for coming to my fifth ted talk. Bye)

[iid-smile]

☆★☆ (UN)LUCKY SYNDROME !!

★ CONTENT — yukimiya kenyu x manager!gn!reader, fluff, pre relationship, university au, the reader got stood up on a date (not by him), awkward confession

☆ WORD COUNT — 0.7k

★ 1K EVENT !! — kart no. 3 ★

half time.

while everyone else headed elsewhere to refresh, yukimiya went straight over to you. you wish sometimes you'd be able to talk to him about matters outside of football, but alas, you're the team's manager and you don't share any classes.

it was only an innocent chat; something about his performance on the pitch lacking. sure, it was noticeable, but you wouldn't tell him that. he's a passionate player, strove on by the single dream of being the best striker. you wouldn't want to be the person who accidentally crushes his hopes and wishes.

but soon, things started to shift.

you had mutual friends and are closely acquainted with each other, so luckily it wasn't all that awkward having some more casual chit-chat. what was bad was how quickly some secrets spread; not that this particular one was secret, but you'd rather it had not ended up in his hands of all people.

the infamous tale of how you got stood up on a date.

it was recent too! everyone in your friend circle was excited for you, considering it was your first date this year, but no good news came out of it.

"i heard he didn't show up?" great way to start things off, yukimiya.

"yeah, but it's fine, really. i get it, exams and all. not the best idea going to a bar in the middle of the night."

"you could've just asked me to go with you instead, even if it was late." so he's playing this game, huh? the "i know he doesn't like me, but why does it feel like he's flirting?" game.

"i appreciate it, but..." you fiddle idly with the pen in your hands, trying not to freak out and say the wrong thing. "i'm sure you wouldn't want to either way. you're out of my league." the smile on your face quickly vanishes. ah... that was a slip of the tongue.

"i'm sure i would take you out." he casually says as if it's the most normal thing ever. in fact, it doesn't even look like he's realised what he's said — or what you've said — just staring out into the field as he takes a swig of water from his bottle.

at first, it skims over your head. he would take you out? funny joke. he's literally a model and a top player for the university across all sports. or would be a (not so) funny joke if he was actually laughing.

...or maybe he wasn't kidding? it didn't even sound like he was talking about when you got stood up.

as the weight of his words sinks in, your head turns slowly toward him, eyes wide with dawning realisation. "...what?" you’re more than taken aback by this entire conversation, wondering how your voice managed to emerge at all amid the shock, rather than just a mere whisper.

he takes a moment of silence, letting the tension hang in the air. then, he slides his glasses off, the movement almost effortlessly captivating. as his fingers weave through his damp locks, his eyebrows furrowing before he finally responds to you. "what?" his eyes move towards your figure, but it's not like he could see you all that well.

midway through putting his glasses back on, he manages to catch your flustered and slightly disturbed expression through his lens. his gaze flutters around in thought, confused by your confusion, but only seconds later did it finally register what he said to you.

"oh."

"..."

"..."

"well, i messed that up..."

and you both stayed there in silence. awkward... awkward! what were you supposed to say now? there's no way you could just move on from such a comment.

out of nowhere, yukimiya breaks the silence, his voice wavering with uncertainty this time. "can i still take you on that date, or...?"

"i mean, yeah! yeah, of course." you answer almost too quickly. the manager side of you can't help but be a little evil. "if..."

"if?"

"if you score a goal for me."

a spark of surprise flickers in his eyes as he processes the unexpected preposition. a playful smirk slowly spreads across his lips, hinting at a mix of amusement and intrigue. "i'll take that challenge."

he didn't score a single goal. you still went on a date after that match anyway, so you're both winners in this situation.

[tojislibrvry]

★ ︵ @ nanami / reader , fluff , pre - relationship

you sigh, packing up all your things into the brown cardboard box that sits on the floor of your cubicle. you use packing tape to close it, only thing remaining on the table is a calendar and a desktop.

you knew you weren't going to continue working at that place after your internship, a little too intense and draining for your tastes. the corporate atmosphere wasn't really your cup of coffee, except for nanami who coincidentally was.

you were surprised though, and a little hurt. he hadn't come to give you coffee like usual but he also wasn't there to bid you farewell. you tried convincing yourself that he was probably just too busy for an intern like you.

that's when you hear a distant voice, a manager who you had the opportunity to work under, unfortunately. she was mean and obnoxious, using you like a personal slave instead of an intern. she would make you work for her personal endeavours and any refusal would have your internship threatened.

"nanami! a little late today, that's surprising for you!!" she giggles, you look over the cubicle and see her manicured nails travelling up his arm. he looked as handsome as always.

"you know, it is valentine's day today and i wanted you to have these chocolates." you look at the calendar and it was in fact, february 14th.

"oh," you hear nanami say. "im sorry, i actually have a date waiting for me." and your heart breaks a little. he holds a pretty bouquet of roses, wrapped with brown paper.

it was stupid you to think that him giving you coffee or his jacket actually meant something. he was grown, he probably liked women who knew what to do with their life.

you let a few tears slip and you wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. sniffling, you exit the office to head to your car.

it's evening and the soft sun basks you in warmth that feels like a mother's hug. you close the trunk and look back once to bid goodbye to your six months of hard work.

right before you get into your car, you hear someone yell your name. you turn back confused only to find yourself face to face with nanami.

"i thought you left," he pants, "thought i was too late." his usual hair-do has fallen apart, blond strands cover his forehead. his eyebrows creased, as he looks at you worry etched in his eyes.

you smile warmly at him when you see the bouquet in his hand. lucky girl, you think to yourself. the woman he has waiting at home is the luckiest person ever to exist.

"everything good, nanami?" you ask, a little worried to see him still slightly hunched trying to catch his breath.

"the elevator broke down after you left, had to use the stairs."

your eyes widen in shock, he was in the seventh floor. he had run down seven floors trying to reach you?

you quickly make him sit in your driver's seat and hand him a bottle of water. you try to calm your thoughts down as he recollects his composure.

"you shouldn't hav-" "would you like to go out with me this weekend?"

your brain stops working.

"h-huh?"

"i always thought you were pretty, and i really wanted to ask you out almost five months ago. your personality, your diligence and just the way you present yourself has me utterly entranced."

he stands up and hands you the bouquet.

"i just thought it would be quite inappropriate if i asked you while you were an intern, i did not want to abuse my position and impose on you. so, no pressure but if you would like to, i'll do my best to take you on an enjoyable date."

you are speechless, your jaw going slack.

"y-you like me?"

he smiles at you, eyes turning into crescents. a soft chuckle escapes his lips.

"quite a lot, i'm afraid."

[stargazedwinchester]

Last Night's Mascara ♡ Dean

Summary: You lose your boyfriend, Dean, to a demonic possession that has replaced his soul.

Word Count: 1,433

Warnings: Physical abuse, some counts of swearing

If that's not something you want to read, please keep scrolling!

This one took a little longer, I had just under 2 weeks off of work and enjoyed it a bit too much and I procrastinated a bit too much, therefore I'm posting this late bc I wanted to stay on schedule xoxox

Inspo by last night's mascara - Griff

Sunday morning. You lay your head on your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Thirteen nights you had slept alone.

Thirteen nights without Dean.

Thirteen nights you had prayed to God by your bedside, begging him to bring Dean back. Nothing worked.

You force yourself up and out of bed, padding down toward the bathroom. Flicking the light on, you glance at yourself in the mirror whilst reaching over to turn the shower on. You peel off your pyjamas, leaving them in a puddle on the floor. While the shower was warming up, you squeeze some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and brush your teeth. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you notice your usually bright, youthful features are now dull and lifeless.

Dean was your happiness. His silly, guileless demeanour was what made him your perfect match. You had faced challenges together before and believed you could overcome this one, too.

How naïve you were!

Spitting the toothpaste out, you rinse your mouth out and run the water so the remnants go down the drain. You turn the tap off and hop into the shower.

“You’re never around anymore, Dean! How do you think that makes me feel?” You spat, an amused look forms on his face. He runs his hand through his gelled hair, looking at you with dead eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck you find funny-”

“Don’t speak to me like that.” He hushes, and your eyebrows furrow in rage. “Don’t speak to you like that? Like what? Like I don’t want to try and sort things out between us? Like none of this actually matters?” you row, throwing your hands up in defeat. Dean sighs. Every second he wasted not talking to you made you more irate. At this point, you assumed it would be impossible to feel this upset with the man you’re supposed to love.

You knew Dean hadn’t been right within himself for quite a while; he had been out a lot more, belligerent in helping you and his brother on hunts, coming across way less affectionate than usual. This left you bewildered and lost. It wasn’t like Dean to be so… cold. He abandoned everything he loved for… nothing. You always felt like it wasn’t completely his fault, but seeing the way he is, it’s hard to think otherwise.

“Talk to me, Dean! Say fucking something!” You walk toward him, who’s facing away from you. Confidence runs through your blood as you stride across the cold floorboards. “Please, Dean,” you exasperate, your throat closing in. You place your hand on his shoulder. He aggressively shoves your hand off, he twists around and fires you across the room. You yelp as your back whips around the bottom of the metal staircase. You’re winded, but that didn’t stop you from getting right back up. “I told you,” Dean snaps, keeping his stalwart, defunct stare on you. He takes a deep breath.

“I told you,” he repeats. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” He raises his voice, booming across the bunker. It feels like the walls vibrated with fear. You storm up to him and he pushes you away, knocking you back onto the floor. “I don’t love you!” He bellows, and you scurry toward the closest wall to stick yourself too. You’re terrified, terrified of what Dean is capable of doing. You’re frozen in place watching him bluster toward you.

He pulls you up so you’re practically glued to the wall behind you, your glare never left his as his pupils dilate. The perfect shade of green that once resides was no longer there.

“I don’t fucking love you, Y/N. I never have. The fact that you feel like you have to try and fix everything? It doesn’t work. It’ll never work. You will never, ever find someone that’ll love you. Purely and effortlessly. This,” he pauses and motions between you both. “This was nothing but for show. You’re a beautiful girl, but I fucking hate you. Quite frankly, you’re worthless. Pathetic.” He smiles intentionally, and those words puncture at your heart like a million shards of glass. You’re unsure of what to do as his awfully strong grasp lets go of you. Your feet touch the ground and you’re still staring at him. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw.

“Get out of my face.” He brushes you off, turning away from you. Dean pauses. He turns and slaps you across the face. You inhale sharply, your bottom lip wobbling but holding in tears. Even though you’re hurting right now, your body and heart have a rush of adrenaline. As Dean turns away, you force him to turn back around to you. You punch him in the cheekbone, causing him to stagger. He attempts to alter himself and reach for you, but you shove him backwards. “Don’t you fucking DARE do that again, Winchester! Who the fuck do you think you are?!” you scream, and he just looks at you. He looks at you as if you’re crazy. “Put your fucking hands on me again and watch what happens, you stupid bastard! Get the fuck out of here! Now!” You shriek, now your voice echoes throughout the bunker. Dean looks surprised as he steps away from you. That same, sinister smirk appears on his face again as he walks toward the stairway.

“I’m not done with you.” He voices just above a whisper. He leaves the bunker and you in silence. You take a shaky breath as you evaluate what has just happened.

Tears roll down your face. A weird comfort from the light, but scorching taps from the waterfall cascading down your back. The water trickles down the drain, mocking you by telling you that you can wash your worries away. A bubble arises in your throat that you can’t control. Your bottled up emotions have finally decided to spill out. You let out a sob, your hands reaching up to your mouth. You don’t want Sam to hear you. Your whole body shakes. You turn around and face the water, letting it fall down your face, hoping that it drowns out the sound of your cries. Desperate and vulnerable cries.

As you step out of the shower, you reach for a towel to wrap around yourself and walk out the door. You make your way to your bedroom and get dressed.

The bright Texan sun beams down, and you pull your sunglasses down over your eyes. You have finally arrived at the church, 46 miles out from the bunker. Despite deserted roads, the entire trip still took almost two hours. Walking down the broken cobblestone path, you push the wooden door open. It squeaks weakly as you step inside onto the floorboards.

There’s no one here, and the door slams behind you. You flinch. You walk toward the altar that’s standing in the centre of the church. Warm colors from the stained glass windows behind the altar reflect onto the rickety floorboards, showing images of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. You kneel down in front of the altar, fixating on the floor. For days, you prayed for the return of the old Dean. You’re stuck on what to say, so you sit for a minute. You assumed Cas would be able to hear your prayers every night, but it felt as if no one could help you. Cas was MIA and Sam’s out of town. You’re completely and utterly alone.

You concentrate as you pray to the shrine in front of you.

“God, if you can hear me, I pray for your divine intervention. To free Dean from the demon’s control and bring back the man we all miss dearly. Please bring my Dean home. I’m begging for something, anything. Please. Amen.”

You sit there for a little while, hoping that the message had actually been heard. You reminisce on how you and Dean used to be, how joyous life felt before he decided to practically give his own life away for the Mark of Cain. You take a deep breath before standing up. You turn around and you’re met with a tall man in a beige trench coat.

“I heard your prayer, Y/N.” He says, gazing down at you with care. Your eyes meet Cas’ and you can’t help but burst into tears. He pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you attentively and he allows you to feel every emotion you’ve needed to let out. You feel very grateful for Cas’s help, even if it is as minimal as a hug. God knows you've needed it.

[winnisblur]

“Cracks In Our Hearts.”

pairing ❤︎‬: gender neutral reader x sunghoon. w.c ‪‪❤︎‬: 4.5 - 5k (it’s word vomit at its finest) synopsis ‪‪❤︎‬: you’re a player in squid game, and thanks to a certain square guard, you’ve managed to survive (and get fucked).

this fic includes ‪‪❤︎‬: smut so mdni, death(s?), blood, sunghoon is a guard and is hot with a mask and pistol, he’s also cold(i think that’s the word), reader just trying to survive, ends up dying tho lol, bathroom sex, choking, pain and gun kink, degradation, sunghoon is actually a jerk beneath the mask, so is reader, unprotected sex, readers skin colour nor private parts are mentioned and etc.

warnings ‪‪❤︎‬: english isn’t my first language, not really proofread so srry about that, and i’m nervous af cus this is my first time writing T-T, this is based off of s1 so spoilers ahead (for those who haven’t watched both seasons”.

…..I shouldn't have survived the first game.

The thought clings to me like a stain as I sit cross-legged on the cold gray floor of the dormitory. Around me, everyone's faces wear that same haunted look-eyes sunken, shoulders hunched-but it does nothing to erase this truth: I'm still here, and a hundred others aren't.

My hands shake as I clutch the bottle of water they gave us, the only comfort in this nightmare. “Red Light, Green Light” was supposed to be simple. A childish game, nothing more. But then, when the first shot went off, the simplicity was in pieces. I kept my head down, my steps calculated. An act of luck rather than any skill saved me. Halfway, my legs had locked, but the chaos around saved me. I was too scared even to breathe, let alone blink while that giant, doll-like machine scanned the field. The screams. The silence. They cling to me as much as the relief of being alive.

But that leaves me with just one question: how long will I last?

Dalgona Game

As the guards herd us into the grounds, that feeling of luck is not there.

The sun knocks heavily upon the earthy ground, and a whispering wave curls through the players. In front of us stood a table piled high with tins, each containing the next nightmare: “Dalgona candy.” The guard with the square mask appears to be in charge; he steps forward. His voice rumbles from behind his mask. "You will each choose a tin. Inside is a shape. Your task is to extract the shape from the candy without breaking it. You will have ten minutes."

That's it? A shape?

But then I look at the examples on the display-circle, triangle, star…and an umbrella. My stomach does a flip. Not just precision, but luck too. A wrongly picked tin means my death. The queue moved fast; shaking hands reached for tins, people picking as if their lives depended on it. Because they do.

When it's my turn, I force myself to breathe and reach for the one closest to me. The metal feels cool and heavy in my hands. I don't even open it right away, afraid to see what fate I've chosen. Finally, I lift the lid.

The umbrella stares back at me.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. I look around, and there are a few groaning in despair as they unveil their shapes. Most got stars or circles—luckies. The timer starts, and the courtyard almost becomes a battlefield of concentration. People start licking their candies, tapping needles at them, and quite a few try to bite them. I take the given needle and gently press it against the candy. The sound of cracking candy nearby makes my heart run. I start shaking and tracing the thin, delicate lines of the umbrella. "Steady," I say to myself. Halfway through, it happened.

Snap.

The handle of the umbrella broke off clean. My blood ran cold.

It was over.

Instantly, my head jerks up to find the nearest guard. They are already converging on other players who busted their candies. I heard shots ring out and immediately froze. That is when I see him.

One of the square-guards, taller than the others, stops a few feet away. I cannot see his face, yet there is something different in the way he looks at me. His head tilts slightly, studying me, and for that one fleeting instant, the noise falls away. Then he takes another step closer.

"No," I whisper. Shivering, my heartbeat surges as I hold the shattered candy tightly against my body, to hide it from view. But instead of brandishing his weapon, he leans in and whispers, "Pretend you're still working." I stare up at him, appalled. "Do it," he says sharply in a low voice, and I automatically comply. I push the broken pieces together, my hands shaking so severely it's a wonder they don't break into a hundred more pieces. The guard-he-stands close enough that I can sense his presence. He occasionally looks around, subtly blocking the other guards' view of me. “Why?" I dare to whisper. He says nothing.

Minutes tick by-although by some miracle, no one notices my snapped candy. When the buzzer goes off, I hold my breath for the worst to happen. Instead, the square-guard advances, feigning that he's inspecting the other players. Somehow, I get away.

The dormitory is noisier tonight. Some are cheering, others crying, but I do not think of anything besides him. Why did he save me? Was this some sort of mistake? A test? My head runs with the different connotations, but no sensible fact makes sense. Guards are not supposed to show mercy.

When the lights dim for night, I am awake. I play that moment in my head over and over-the quiet authority in his voice, the way he lingered just long enough to save me. There's just no getting answers, yet I couldn't help my mind from running over and over with thoughts of him.

Sunghoon’s POV

This was reckless.

I lean against the wall of the guard quarters, helmet in my hands, and let my breath out slowly. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I saw them-their trembling hands, the way they froze when their candy broke. I should've ignored it. I should've done my job. But something about the way their eyes widened, filled with fear and determination, stopped me. I don't know why I helped them. It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't out of guilt.

It was them.

I have seen hundreds of players, most of them desperate enough or selfish enough to catch nothing but their own survival. But they're different. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Guards aren't supposed to feel anything. Yet every time I think about their face, my resolve cracks just that little bit more.

If anyone finds out, I'm as good as dead.

But somehow, I just can't seem to care. Tomorrow's another game, another chance to see them. I just hope I can keep my distance.

For both our sakes.

The Next Day

I wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. It isn't the ache in my limbs or the exhaustion of staying up all night, reliving the events of the Dalgona game in my head; it's the dread of what comes next.

Another game, another chance to die.

They walk us to the next arena as effectively, coldly, with all the same efficiency of people used to doing a day's labor. My head was down, letting myself just become part of a whole, not standing out too much. The cold-faced, geometric-mask-covered guard statues line the wall opposite. My eyes fly toward each square mask.

Grievously stupid. Insane even-but what did it matter? Had he watched me just then? Was he going to try to save me?

A small part of me wants him to, but the larger part is reminding me of one crucial thing: here, I am on my own. Completely and utterly. Not even him.

Sunghoon’s POV

There they are.

Perched atop the arena above, my eyes find them in a heartbeat. They scan the guards again, their shoulders tense, eyes keen despite the exhaustion clinging to every player out there. I shouldn't watch them. Shouldn't give a damn.

Yet I can't peel my eyes away, though. Still alive, that's what matters.

My grip tightens on the rifle in my hands as the Robotic Female’s voice booms across the arena, announcing the rules for today’s game. I already know what’s coming. Another trial, another bloody mess.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Even if it means breaking every rule I’ve sworn to follow.

The Tug-of-War Twist

We are brought to a very large outdoors arena, with several platforms towering up to the sky. Ropes traverse atop thick, and beneath these? A fall so long I could hardly see the bottom.

Tug-of-war.

The explanation is simple: teams of ten; whoever wins lives. Losers. well, the fall does the talking. I'm pushed towards a group, and panic bursts in my chest as I realize the dynamics are uneven. None of them appear to be very strong. A few even shake so hard that I don't think they can hold the rope.

This is bad.

The guards line the edges, rifles in place to take out anyone showing even a millisecond of hesitation. My eyes flicker to them out of instinct, and there he is-square guard. His posture is stiff, but his helmet angles toward me as I step on the platform. Is he looking at me?

The thought's cut off by a buzz. And with that, the first match begins. I am horrified as the opposing team pulls with ruthless precision. Losing is being dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge. Their screams echo when the rope jerks once more, sending them plunging into the void.

This isn't just about strength. It's strategy.

When it's our turn, I reach for the rope, my palms already slick with sweat. My team looks hopeless, all whispering prayers and clutching at whatever scraps of courage they can muster. The opposing team, however, is all muscle.

"Pull!" someone yells as the buzzer sounds, and I dig my heels into the platform. The rope's abraded heat against my palms sears the skin as we're yanked forward. Arms scream, legs wobble-it feels like we are seconds away from catastrophe. "Lean back! Use your weight!" someone yells, but it's futile. We're losing so much ground. That's when I saw him.

The square-guard stood near the edge, his head cocked as he watched me. For what feels like an eternity he doesn't move, before finally he moves a step closer and leans on his rifle at his shoulder. I'm stuck until his hand moves after all, and it does really slowly.

It was the signal.

I watch transfixed as his gloved hand takes direction toward the other guys on the opposition side of this platform, then he tap-dances his foot quickly yet small - almost in a blur-close around anchor point holding their ropes steady. My eyes widen.

Is he telling me their side is rigged?

I have no time to think. I lean back with all my strength and yell to my team, "Pull to the left! They're off balance!" The others hesitate but follow my lead, shifting our weight. The opposing team stumbles, losing their footing, and in the chaos, I catch something flicker in the corner of my vision-a quick, subtle motion from his side.

The anchor point snaps.

The opposing team barely has time to act before they're pulled forward, screaming as they tumble into the abyss. We collapse onto the platform, gasping for air. Relief washes through me, tainted with disbelief.

I should be dead.

I glance toward him again but he's already gone, sucked back into the sea of guards. Tonight, I cannot get him out of my mind. The square-guard. The one who has saved me over and over again. No one else is paying any attention to anything but celebration or mourning as I slip into the shadows near the edge of the dormitory. The guards patrol the perimeter, their masks gleaming under the dim lights. And then I see him.

He leans against the wall, a little apart from the others. As I approach him, my heart pounds, and every step sounds louder than it should. "What are you doing?" I whisper. His head snaps toward me, and for a second, I think I have made a mistake. But then he steps forward, his voice low and sharp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I shoot back, emboldened by adrenaline. "You've been helping me. Why?” He hesitates, glancing around before tugging me further into the darkness. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to," he says. "I think I deserve an answer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest despite the tremble in my hands. "You've saved my life twice. Don't act like that's normal." For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a sigh, he lifts his mask just enough for me to see his face.

He's younger than I expected. Sharp jawline, intense eyes that seem to pierce right through me. "You stood out," he admits, his voice softer now. "Most people here…they're just trying to survive. But you-" He catches himself, as if he's said too much. "But what?" I press.

“You fight," he says so simply. "Even when you're scared. Even when you shouldn't." The words dangle in the air, between us like a challenge. Heavy, electric. "I don't know why I do these things," he continues more irritably. "But if you wanna stay alive, don't trust me. Don't trust no one." His words shouldn't assure me, and yet suddenly, for the first time since I have been here, I do feel one thing: hope.

"Thanks," I say under my breath. He doesn't answer, but pulls his mask back down and steps away, leaving me in the shadows.

I trudge up the stairs, the fluorescent lights above me flickering with every labored step my legs take. It was mountainous, but I had survived another game, another step closer to whatever hellish end this place had in store. The other players say nothing. Their faces are hollow, their skin pale. No one dares speak anymore. Silence is safer.

I stop on the last step as a guard blocks my path. Square mask. My heart catches. "What's this?" I say, sharper than I mean to. Exhaustion has sucked any tolerance from me. "You're flagged," he says bluntly. "There's suspicion you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. You'll have to be searched." My blood turns cold. Suspicion? Prohibited? “That's crazy," I say, my panic rising into my chest. "I don't have anything-"

"Follow me." There's no request about it. The other players glance my way, their eyes wide and wary, but they don't get involved. They're too frightened to risk drawing attention to themselves. I hesitate, my mind racing. If this is a setup, if they think I've broken a rule, this could be it. This could be my end.

But I have no choice. Taking a deep breath, I follow the guard down a dimly lit corridor and into a bathroom. The sound of the door locking behind me makes me shiver. “Turn around," the guard instructs in a cold, emotionless voice. I do so, my heart racing. "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you think I've done, but-"

"Stop talking.” It cuts through my protest, and there's something about it-something familiar. I turn to face them, my brow furrowing. “What is this?" I ask. "Who are you?" For a moment, they don't respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the guard lifts their mask. My breath catches.

It's him.

The square-guard who's been helping me. The one I thought was gone, fired, or worse-killed for breaking the rules. "You-" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to see you," he says, his voice soft, yet urgent. "I couldn't stay away any longer." I blink, trying to process the rush of emotions-relief, confusion, anger. "I thought you were-what happened to you? Why did you stop-" "I had to lay low," he interrupts. "They were watching me. But I'm still here. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Why did you bring me here?" I ask finally.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. “Because I couldn't take it anymore," he says, his voice low, stepping closer. "Watching you risk your life, knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it-it's been driving me insane." I swallow hard, my heart racing as he closes the gap between us. "You shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "If they find out—"

"I don't care," he says with finality. "I've already broken the rules for you. What's one more?" And before I can say another word, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me. It's not soft or tentative-it's desperate, raw, like he's pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the moment. I'm stuck in a freeze-frame moment for a second, mind whipping. Then I yield and cling to his uniform while kissing him back with every ounce of fierce intensity of my own. The world falls away, and I feel something other than fear for the first time since this nightmare kicked off.

But not for long.

He pulls away, forehead resting against mine, hard breaths mingling between our lips. "I can't protect you anymore," he says, his voice cracking. "Not with what's coming." I search his face, my chest tightening at the pain in his eyes. "You've already done more than enough," I whisper. He shakes his head. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough."

A heavy silence falls between us, and I know this is goodbye. Expect it wasn’t actually, his lips captured mine again, his lips….almost saying they wanted me, needed me. That is until he broke the kiss again, and pinned my back against the cold, colorful tiled wall of the bathroom. His body language seemed like he has longed for the dramatic (sort of) crash of holding me against the wall, kissing me like he was dreaming about this every single minute of the day.

He winced as my nails raked across his back through his pink suit, he probably felt like his outfit was being torn by my nails, which could get us both in trouble if that was actually to happen. He winced again as he took ahold of my wrists and slammed them to the wall in retaliation, wedging his knee between my thighs, which made a gasp leave my lips at the slightest bit of friction I was getting from his thigh.

“Didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” he teased after breaking the heated kiss for the nth time, leaving him and me breathless, panting with saliva connecting us. His low chuckle echoed through the empty, now suffocating bathroom, and making his vampire teeth pop out. “it’s laughable, really. Does the games make you horny?” he teased yet again, raising his thick eyebrows in a way that seemed mockingly, his thigh moving back and forth slightly, earning a whine from my lips as he chuckled like he was enjoying me being teased. “Does your life being on the line make you horny? You sadist bit-“ Pain blistered across Sunghoon’s cheek, he couldn’t help but grin as it sent shockwaves of sensation tearing across his body. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he hungrily kissed me again, choking me with his gloved hands. I thrashed, ripping at the back of his head by a fistful of hair and biting down hard on his lower lip. Both of our lips were bleeding now, but the metallic tang only made him deepen the kiss even more, greedily trying to taste much of it as possible, masochist much?

“Fucking slut,” He hissed, licking blood and spit from my chin. “You’re a cunt and a dick, a motherfucking cunt and dick sucker.” I hissed back, he chuckled. He fucking chuckled this was all a fucking a circus show for him. “Damn right,” he teased. “But only good girls or boys get their cunts and dicks sucked by me, which isn’t you unfortunately.” he grinned, his hips rolling against my privates, yet again another chuckle slipped from his lips like he enjoyed watching me being frustrated sexually, and I could confirm it just by looking at his eyes that had a glint, a glint of giddiness everytime pain was inflicted upon me.

I hooked my foot behind his knee, forcibly collapsing it. First, he tries making me shit in my pants from coming out of nowhere and telling me that I had to be pat down, makeouts with me, choked me and almost knocked out all of the air in me, calls me names and now his hand is reaching up to my knee to bring me down with him…great. He smirked as he yanked me down onto him, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the cold floor now instead. He gave just one slow, merciless grind of his hips against mine, and I’m only just realising but…he’s fucking big.

“Who said that…I want you to fucking suck me off or eat me out?” I bit out, nursing my injured lip to keep from moaning as he set out a torturously slow pace through our clothes. “It seems pretty eager to me,” Sunghoon teased, gloved fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “I bet I could make you cum in- shit-!” His head smacked harder against the tiles than it should have as I tossed him onto his back, thighs clenched tightly around his hips. The throbbing pain only added to the throbbing pleasure as I rolled my hips. “Just who do you think fucking I am? Just- fuck- just because I’m trying to survive and win doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your fucking bitch.” Sunghoon grinned up at me, I was already flushed bright red and riding his hips with rough, desperate japs of my hips. “Big talk for someone who’s riding me like their life depends on it, ironically.” he snickers. “I can feel you, asshole. You’re in the same situation as I am!” Sunghoon smirked, and in one quick move, he snatched my wrist and rocketed back to his feet, spinning me back around and leaving me face-first against the wall. “You might not be able to kill people like me, and neither I could survive the games you’re playing but god…you’re right, I do want you.” I shuddered at his deep voice. I shifted, legs spreading to support myself better and Sunghoon slotted his knee right between them once more, hands settling on my waist as I got my one free hand between me and the wall, trying to push and give myself some space. I only succeeded in pushing our bodies closer than before, his cock nestled firmly against my ass.

“Let me have you,” Sunghoon purred, squeezing my waist and slowly moving up my sides the way that turned me into putty. I moaned, shuddering again. “Fuck you! If you want me so badly, then come and take it, take me!” well, that is an invitation that Sunghoon hasn’t heard before, even before doing this whole crazy guard thing at a unknown island. He growled, jerking my pants down in a hurry, like he actually couldn’t believe that his dreams are about to come true. I threw my elbow back, but Sunghoon just pinned my wrist back to the wall. “Stop being a fucking brat,” he hissed. I struggled and choking back a moan, feeling the material of his pink suit against my bare ass. “Get your shitty ass outfit outta the way,” I demanded. “Shit feels like sandpaper!” I hissed. “So sensitive and demanding,” he cooed, even as he let me have both hands back to brace myself against the wall. Sunghoon didn’t dare to move back and give me an opening to escape, only reaching up to unzip his suit and free himself, mostly his cock that was strained against the fabric and begging for friction as it twitched in his underwear. I adjusted, leaning away long enough for Sunghoon to free himself. “If you were me, you’d complain too!” I hissed. “Yeah, yeah, stop running your big mouth. You want it or not?” he rolled his eyes, his suit and underwear failing to his ankles as he leaned forward, completely trapping me between him and the cold wall, his bare cock resting just on my ass, just right where I needed him, so far yet so close. “I told you you fucking idiot, just take it-“ Sunghoon couldn’t help but thrust all of his cock in one go. Making me moan out loud at the blissful pain from the thrust.

For Sunghoon, you were a wet dream come true to life; Sunghoon’s cock glided through you without resistance, soft and slick, tightening only as he rutted against a known sweet spot along your walls. I moaned, arching my back, wrapping tightly around him. He groaned in response, leaning over me, his hands covering mine, fingers almost interlocked. The sweat on my neck left a layer of salt on Sunghoon’s tongue, but beneath it was nothing but you. Sunghoon muffled his own moans against my throat, sucking and biting his way down to my shoulders. I turned my head, covering my mouth with the inside of my elbow as he fucked me against the wall. Sunghoon hiked me up onto my tiptoes, leaning back to appreciate the view, your skin glistened with sweat under the fluorescent lights. “…Please, I’m close da- fuck-!” your words and moans rang loud in his ears, in the bathroom, the silence sharpening your cries. They acted as pokers to the hot coals of fire in the pit of Sunghoon’s stomach, making him embarrassed over how loud you were, neither was the wet and loud sound of skin smacking was making it any better. If any of his fellow guards were outside or just a tad bit close to the bathroom, he’s fucked and killed to death alongside with you.

That is when Sunghoon got an idea, an idea that satisfies his other personality, the one that was created whilst being here for a very long time that he has lost sense of time, and that is fear. He lives off of the idea of goosebumps appearing on the player’s skins just before he kills them, and in this case, while he’s fucking them and practically making them cock-drunk from his stroke game. Sunghoon leaned down and grabbed his long forgotten, abandoned pistol on the floor, aiming the barrel at your forehead, and with that his thrusts became harder, sloppier but you…you were terrified. Terrified on why there’s a gun to your head suddenly, is he going to kill you after using you like a worthless, lifeless sexdoll? Is that what’s going to happen? You couldn’t lie to yourself because the thought kinda turned you on and made you wetter even more, because you wouldn’t mind being his sexdoll if his cock was constantly inside you and making you go brainless. “Stop moaning like a whore unless you want me to pull the trigger right now, and kill you before they find us.” he threatened lowly in my ear, licking and bitting as he tried to muffle his own sounds. By now, you knew you looked pathetic with your eyes red, red and snotty nose as tears stained and wet your flushed cheeks as you began to bite onto your ragged and bloody jacket, trying to keep quiet because as much as it turned you on at the thought of dying on his dick, but you valued your life at the moment because, living longer equals bouncing on his dick for even more before you die.

Sunghoon barely managed to pull out on time, painting his pleasure all over your ass. He grinned at the realisation that you were still haven’t even came yet, still hanging on the edge as he lowered his pistol and patted his gloved hand on your ass, watching it jiggle with the motion of his hand, giggling to himself as he brought his head up and was met with the sight of you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. “Get your own self off, brat.” he teased, putting on his suit back and mask, giving you one last cocky glance before he makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror and walks out on you, leaving you frustrated at him, at not being pleasured enough, at the games, and yourself because behind his handsome looks, he’s actually just like the other guards, ruthless and cold.

The Final Game

The days blur all together.

The games are getting more brutal, and the players, myself included, are growing desperate. Every moment feels like a race against time, against fate. The tension among the remaining participants is palpable. We’ve all become numbers now, not people—just pawns in a game that doesn’t care about our lives. The final game is announced, and my heart skips a beat.

It's the one everybody's afraid of: the glass bridge.

We line up in a row, one behind the other, in front of the two routes laid out before us, each comprising several glass panels, some strong and some weak. We had to walk over them and choose appropriate ones to cross or plunge to death. A shiver runs down my spine as the first few players go up front, and what happened was inevitable. One after another, they fall. Screams pierce the cold air, but clear had been the instruction from the guard that no one was to move unless his turn came upon him. Just as I'm about to take my first step, I suddenly feel. something.

It's him.

The square-guard above watches on, his eyes tracking my every movement, and for a split second, our gazes meet. The connection is brief, but it's enough. I don't know what to make of it, but something in the way he watches me is different. There's something in his eyes-something almost…regretful.

It's my turn.

I step onto the bridge, my legs trembling as creaks come from within the glass as my body weight presses down upon it. The first few steps are just fine. My luck has to turn sometime. The crack starts to give under me and I freeze. I looked back, and that is when I see it-something shifting in Sunghoon's posture. Moving.

Too late.

Balance is lost.

I heard him scream my name-my real name, not a number-and did not care. I fell. This was a never-ending fall. The world spun and the only thing I was aware of was air rushing in as I dropped with the pretty firm knowledge I'd not live to cry out.

And then, there was nothing.

Sunghoon's POV

The world is silent.

I stand in stock-stillness, my heartbeat the only sound of the drumbeat as their body disappears into the void below, and with every shattered piece of me. I should have. I should have—

My fist slams against the metal wall. Its echo rings out into that space. Why didn't I act sooner? Why couldn't I pull them back? Why couldn't I protect?

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But here I am, crushed under the weight of it, the weight of my failure. I should never have gotten involved. I should never have helped them.

But I couldn't stop myself.

And now…

I failed.

I failed them.

The game goes on, but Sunghoon's mind is a maelstrom.

The rest of the players are like shadows, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. To Sunghoon, however, time has stopped. He stares at the rest of the players, his eyes searching among them for any sign of the one he couldn't protect. Every step weighs too much to be taken. Every decision he makes feels like a mistake. And when the final buzzer goes off, he barely hears it.

It's the end of the day now, and it doesn't matter anymore.

The only thing filling Sunghoon's head is the weight of his own guilt. The others are rejoicing, but his mind is consumed by you-your face, your eyes, and the time you spent together. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

And he never will.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[martyryo]

Him being cunty, him slaying, him mothering blah blah blah you get the point.

[vaguely-concerned]

Thinking about the symbolic weight of smoking in the TLT universe that comes to the fore in The Unwanted Guest -- the way it moves through from person to person: Pyrrha smoked, and Augustine wanted to impress her in all her stone cold fox MILF James Bond glory (and tbf who wouldn't) so he started too. and even though as far as he knows she's been gone for a myriad and is never coming back, he keeps the habit. Ianthe sees something in the hollowed-out Faberge eggshell of Augustine that resonates with her, all that gilded eloquent emptiness and disdain through the ages, so she picked it up from him to try to emulate it. She picked it up so hard that Palamedes -- the exact spiritual antithesis of the 'smoking! on a space station! what a powermove' ennui Ianthe so admired -- spontaneously unnerded enough to even known how to, simply from a sort of contact contamination of the soul.

G1deon and Augustine sharing a jittery smoke after their near-Harrow experience during soup night, and it's the closest thing to any real sense of brotherhood that remains between them. Pyrrha going ten thousand years dying both literally and for a smoke (and then Camilla sold her fucking cigarettes (for a third of what they were worth, probably Pyrrha's own good, and also more importantly grocery money). what an entirely haunted time to be alive etc.). Augustine and Mercy trading a cigarette back and forth in the middle of their collusion over the love and murder of god.

An act of small and measured self-destruction in the name of something a little bit like connection when you're stuck somewhere in yourself where love itself dares not or cannot tread (ritualized, transmissible)..........

[zemnarihah]

art students are suuuuch babies dude i actually can't believe all the profs are so nice i'd be grabbing people by the shoulders and shaking them and yelling "JUST REMIX THE FUCKING COLOR WHY HAVE YOU TAKEN 3 PAINTING CLASSES AND YOU STILL WONT EVEN ATTEMPT TO MATCH A COLOR THAT YOU MIXED BEFORE WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME DO YOU HAVE LITERALLY NO DESIRE TO IMPROVE OR DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE PERSON WHO IS ALWAYS MAKING INCREIDBLE WORK IS ONLY OUTSIDE FACTORS YOU CLAIM TO HAVE NO CONTROL OVER RATHER THAN WORK AND A WILLINGNESS TO TRY CHALLENGING THINGS

[longagoitwastuesday]

*reading a thesis about the evolution of the concept of infinity in China with a large amount of tabs open with diverse articles or word combinations to further look for information, all the while seething, blood boiling* I wish Satoru Gojo would fucking cease to exist