#like how fucking delusional and out of touch from reality you have to be to go around saying shit like that

[odinsblog]

“One weird, silver lining positive from the WGA's strike has been a sense of calm over a reality that has plagued me with anxiety for years — the fact that despite having a great agent, manager, and lawyer, despite having been in hundreds of rooms with top execs and producers, despite having pitched countless networks, and despite having sold multiple pilots and pitches, I still work in food and bev. For so long, it felt like such an embarrassment in so many ways because it felt like I was the only one who was biding time in between sales with a side hustle. When I would tell people at work that I wrote television, they'd look at me like I had ten heads, or like I was delusional. They couldn't IMAGINE someone who *actually* wrote television would also be asking them what temp they wanted their salmon.

But the reality is, TV money goes fast, especially when it's just a pilot sale. And if shit doesn't get picked up to series, that money only lasts for so long. Being responsible meant swallowing my pride and keeping a job that was more consistent and steady but also gave me the ability to take pitch meetings, to write on my down time, do rewrites, answer e-mails, and take notes calls.

And for so long I thought I was a minority in that regard. Like I had done something wrong to not be successful enough to rely solely on my career as a writer.

Yet the strike has pushed SO many stories to the forefront of writers doing the exact same thing I've done, GOOD writers, great writers, writers who shit I watch all the time, whose names I instantly recognize, whose reputations in this industry precede them. So when the studios leaked that the goal was to bleed writers dry, to make it so we lost our homes, I had to laugh. Writers like me will literally do anything to keep the dream of writing alive. It's in us. It never goes away, no matter how many steaks you server, how many martinis you mix, how many cold calls you make, how many Uber passengers you pick up, how many pizzas you have to deliver. We always always always find a way to make it to that next great hope of a pitch, a sale, a green light.

And that's how you know that the CEOs are so fucking out of touch with reality. With the industry. With the POINT of the industry the point for most (not all, but most) has never been to be filthy rich, or own a yacht, or even have a membership to SoHo house. It's been to make something we love. To see it come to life, and make other people happy, or sad, or angry, or scared. To take this story you have kicking around your head and turn it into some epic journey. To be part of the process of making worlds and characters come to life. To tell stories.

The CEO's point has been to make as much money as humanly possible. And so they think that's all there is motivating writers. it's not. It never has been. Just because those CEO's wouldn't wait tables or mix drinks or drive a Lyft in order to keep a dream going, doesn't mean the rest of us wouldn't. The CEO's don't have a dream, they have a lifestyle. And I promise you a dream is a much better motivator than a yacht or a Porsche.

Try to bleed us dry, guys. Just because you'd let your own dream bleed to death, doesn't mean we would. We will always find a way to keep it alive.”

—Stefanie Williams, a tv writer on strike

[slvthrs]

thinkin' of coriolanus and his insane breeding n ownership kink...

Coriolanus Snow loves ownership.

It's disgusting but he sees you as his pretty little thing that he needs to protect and keep safe. Your body and soul belongs to him and your all his to take care of and to ravish.

Late at night in the comfort of your plush duvet, in your families penthouse suite with adornments worth more than the snow's apartments, Coryo sneaks into your bed. Pressing your body against him, drawing out moans and gasps from your lips. You mewl under his touch and writing in pain and pleasure as his hands dip between your folds to stretch you out.

The last thing Coriolanus wants is his pet to get hurt.

His thumb fervently circles your clit, opening your thighs even further as the boy slips in another finger. He watches your face contort into emotions of pain and pleasure drawing another orgasm out of your, "Your so precious, c'mon give me one more."

And one turns to 2 more and turns to 5 until Coryo finally decides you deserve to get fucked.

It's a privilege, to have his dick inside you, he expects you to be begging and desperate. He berates you, watching you beg like a common whore but in the end you get what you want. In the dead of night with your parents in another room- none the wiser- he takes you, ruining you, for any other man. In his eyes you belong to him and no one can take you from him.

Your moans echo in the walls and skin slap together as Coryo has you bent, with your knees hooked over his shoulders and his dick pounding into you unforgivingly.

The angle reaches all the right spots, all the places your fingers counldn't reach, essentially making it so you can't even cum without him helping you- which was of course what he wanted.

You we be so desperate that you would end up calling Coryo. at the dead of night, crying over the phone at how much you needed him to take care of you, how your "hands didn't feel as good as his" or how you "needed him.' And that's all he needed to here before rushing to your place.

Every single time without fail Coryo would hope you would get pregnant.

He knows it's stupid- your far to young for kids and in reality Coryo would be a horrible dad. But the idea of you, his precious thing, so full and round with his kid.

How vulnerable you would be and how he would protect you, keep you stuck at home, making you play the eager housewife whilst he could come home from some high paying job- able to take care of you three.

Sometimes his mind disgusted him.

One time he thought of some lowlife from the higher districts, 10, 11, 12 even, finding you, perhaps he was a tribute, no matter how- but he thought how the man would try to hurt you and how he could fight him off. How he would hit the man, watch the fear in his eyes as he took his life, keeping you safe.

He swears he never came harder that night. Filling you up and your screamed into a pillow.

Coriolanus Snow loves ownership. And he specifically loves owning you.

ik coryo seems like kinda an ass in this but i wanted to make smth that as kinda more true to how evil he rlly was- dw tho imma make smth thats a lil more nice n delusional 😭

[minarisplaything]

I Know What You Want ft. Wonyoung

premise: Inspired by those "your birth month is your ex gf and your current gf" slideshows on tiktok. Might do more of these because they are light and fun.  

pairing: Wonyoung x Male Reader content warning/kinks: cheating, daddy kink, anal a/n: happy sunday, always lube up properly o7 audio version (note: audio version is without daddy kink bc i got too lazy to edit around it) wc: 2.4k

"Isn't she a little old for you?" Wonyoung asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone. 

"You sound jealous." 

She shrugged. "I'm not jealous. I just didn't realize Sunmi-sunbaenim was into robbing the cradle." 

"I'm twenty-one," you pointed out. Surely grown enough to make your own decisions on who you dated.  

"She's thirty-two," Wonyoung countered. 

You let out an annoyed sigh, "I'm not doing this with you today, Wonyoung. Why did you want to meet?" 

Wonyoung bristled at your directness, her posture straightening as she scoffed. "You start fucking some hag and you start acting brand new around me." 

"Some hag? Really? Wasn't it you who kept saying how much you adored Sunmi-sunbaenim?" 

"That was before she took what was mine."  

You let out a bark of dry laughter. "I'm not yours. I don't belong to you, Wonyoung." 

A healthy response would have been to accept the setting of boundaries and acknowledge their mistake. Which naturally meant that Wonyoung took your words as a challenge.  

"Is that right?" she asked, taking a step towards you. "You belong to her now, huh?" 

"That's right." Which wasn't exactly true. You didn't think you belonged to anyone but something about the entitlement she was acting with made you respond out of indignation.  

What you didn't expect was for her hand to reach out, manicured fingers sliding down to grasp your crotch. "Then why do I still get you hard?"  

"Wonyoung -- "  

A thin eyebrow arched itself, the picture of arrogance. "Are you going to deny it?" 

"Your delusional."  

"Am I?" She began to massage your cock over your clothing, and despite your protest, your cock was all too eager to respond to her familiar touch. "Are you telling me if I bent over right now you wouldn't fuck me against this wall?" 

God you hated her. Or at least you should. The reality was that despite your separation. Despite the toxicity that had existed in your relationship. Despite being in a happy relationship now. There would always be a part of you that was weak to her. To both her advances and her behavior. 

As if sensing your wavering disposition, her touch became heavier. "I'm not wearing any panties under this skirt," she said her tone taking on an innocent air. "Just the way Daddy likes." 

That was all it took.  

It was pathetically easy in the end for Wonyoung to get you to snap. Though, if anyone was going to be capable of it, it was going to be her. She knew you too well, for better and for worse. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if her whole look today; the mid-thigh length skirt, the cropped blouse that was a size too small and hugged her frame as a result. She even let her hair down today so it'd be easy for you to grab it. Combine that with her lack of underwear and calling you daddy and, well, you never stood a chance.  

You surged forward, gripping Wonyoung's shoulders and spinning her to face the wall. She lead out a delighted fit of laughter as she arched her back, pressing her ass against your groin. Your hands moved to your buckle, shoving down your pants to free your cock from its denim cage. 

"I can't stand you, you know that?" 

Wonyoung giggled as she tossed you a look over her shoulder, "Whatever you say, Daddy." 

With cock in hand you used the other to shove her skirt up, revealing that she had spoken true in her words. You could see her bare pussy, practically begging for you. You bit your bottom lip, hating that the thought of missing this crossed your mind. "You were waiting for this weren't you?" 

"Can you tell?" Wonyoung smiled wickedly, "Can't you see how wet I am for you?" 

You could. And if you needed any further confirmation you ran your cock between her legs, coating it in her arousal. You had to stop yourself from delving into any further foreplay. This was just a one-time fuck to get it out of your system. At least that was what you told yourself. But as you slipped the tip of your cock into her and began to thrust forward, you were reminded of why it had been so hard to quit Wonyoung in the first place. 

"Oh fuck yes, Daddy," Wonyoung said, her back arching further. "You feel how you're stretching my tight pussy? You haven't felt that in a while have you?" 

You bit back the urge to tell Wonyoung that wasn't how that worked. Now wasn't the time for a biology lesson nor defending your girlfriend's honor. Instead you focused on stuffing her inch by inch, watching as her pussy swallowed more and more of you until you were pressed flush against her ass. 

"Oh, fuck," you groaned out, your head falling forward slightly.  

"It feels good doesn't it? It's perfect," Wonyoung cooed. "We're perfect." 

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Don't think I'm won over that easily." 

Refusing to give into the sentiment that she was suggesting you slipped your cock out of her before stuffing her again and again. You repeated the process, each time going a bit hard, a bit faster while making sure she felt every inch of your cock. The truth was it was fucking heavenly. Sex had never been the reason your relationship fell apart. And even now months later it was like returning to something familiar. Despite yourself you wanted to enjoy this, for however long it lasted. 

Your fingers moved to tangle in her dark, wavy locks, pulling her head back as her lithe body shook with your rough thrusts.  

"You like that, Wony? This is what you wanted right?" You taunted, giving into the moment as you seized back control.  

"Yes!"  

"You couldn't find anyone else to fuck you this good could you?"  

"Noo," she moaned. 

You tugged on her hair roughly, "No, what?" 

"No one fucks me this good, Daddy!"  Wonyoung cried out. 

You rewarded her diligent response with a spank on her fit ass.  

"Mmmfph!" She moaned, biting her bottom lip as you continued to fuck her roughly. You could feel her walls tightening around you, her juices already dripping around your cock each time you pulled out of her. The telltale signs that her first orgasm was on the horizon were there for you to see. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her mouth hung upon as she did her best to hold herself against the wall. All she needed was for you to push her over the brink.  

"Are you going to come for me? Come for daddy," you whispered against her the shell of her ear as you stuffed her. 

"F-fuck! I'm coming!" Wonyoung cried out, not even bothering with trying to contain her moans of pleasure. The look on her face was pure ecstasy and you found it was a look that, despite having near memorized it, it was one you missed. 

Her walls tightened around your length as her orgasm shook her body. You were relentless, continuing to fuck the top idol through her climax. One arm slipped around her waist should her legs go weak on her. By the time it was all over she had leaned forward, her face pressed against the wall, her eyes slightly glazed over as her body rocked with your slower thrusts.  

  As you looked at her perfect ass still pointed out to you, an idea popped into your head. 

"Don't move" you instructed her, though you weren't sure if she comprehended you. 

You slipped your cock out of her, ignoring the lazy "Hey..." That came from Wonyoung at your action. You were still achingly hard and now thoroughly coated in her juices. That would come in handy soon enough. You got down on your knees, spreading her firm cheeks. Her pussy lips were swollen from your rough fucking but that wasn't your target, instead your tongue was probing her asshole, much to Wonyoung's surprise. 

"W-what are you doing," she asked, the intrusion bringing her some of her senses back. Still, she made no move to stop you.  

Her inaction only emboldened her as your tongue worked her backdoor. In all the months the two of you had spent together. In all the spontaneous sessions that broke out between you whether it was loving or after a fight, this was the one hole that Wonyoung had never let you claim. In fact, she had been adamant about it every time you even mentioned it. But you had a plan for that now. When you were satisfied you withdrew your tongue and moved to test her hole with your index finger. 

"Really, what are you up to back there?" Wonyoung said, letting out a shaky breath. 

"Ssh, just relax," you instructed her. 

"You – fuck – you know that's off-limits," she returned. 

Now was your trump card.  

"Sunmi let me fuck her ass." 

A poignant pause hung in the air. It was as if Wonyoung was considering what you had just said. Though, given her actions thus far, you had a feeling you already knew her mind was made up. Wonyoung wasn't nearly as cut-throat as some made her out to be but she wasn't someone who took kindly to coming in second place. Least of all when it came to you. 

"Make sure you don't go to hard" she finally said. "And you better soak your cock, I'm not some stretched out hag." 

"Unnecessary," you chided her. Still, she was right on one point. You returned your tongue to her asshole, preparing it the best you could before moving back to your feet. Your cock slipped inside of Wonyoung again, giving her a few rough thrusts before pulling out and applying some more natural lubrication of your own as you spit on your cock. Finally you were ready. Well, as ready as you could be. Mostly your cock was just aching at the thought of finally being inside Wonyoung's ass.  

You positioned your tip at her entrance, gently beginning to push the head forward. "Remember to relax," you said, a hand on her lower back. 

"Oh, fuck," Wonyoung swore, her cheek pressed against the wall. "You're too fucking big." 

  "I thought you liked that," you taunted her. 

"Shut up," she groaned.  

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was the Wonyoung you knew. Not the princess she pretended to be in front of the camera. You continued pushing ahead, slow and steady as the head of your cock finally penetrated her.  

"Holy shit..." You muttered under her breath. 

"Fuck. Just....wait there a second," Wonyoung muttered, one long arm reaching back to press against your hip as she got accustom to the new stretch. 

You were more than happy to abide. Even just having past the head of your cock in her ass had you reeling. You knew that some of your reaction would be based on the novelty of it. On the fact that you were fucking Jang Wonyoung's ass for the first time. That you were the only person to ever do so. But the truth was it also felt far better than you could have imagined. It wasn't your first time. You hadn't lied when you said that Sunmi had taken you first. And, to be fair, you had loved it then too. But it had been different. You had merely experienced it as Sunmi rode you, in control the entire time. On top of that,t here wasn't the same history. As much as you hated to admit it, it didn't compare to this. 

"Okay," Wonyoung said, breaking you from your thoughts, "You can move." 

That was all you needed to hear. You pushed forward, inch by inch watching as her hole stretched around your cock until you made it about halfway down the length of your shaft.  

"This will have to do," you grunted. 

You began to move your hips, slowly at first as you rocked against her before adding more vigor. Steadily with drawing your cock before filling her backdoor again and again. Soft pants left Wonyoung as her nails dug into your flesh, her hand holding onto your thigh. 

"How does it feel," you asked her. 

"Like I'm being split in half," she groaned. 

"And?" 

Wonyoung was silent for a moment before a breathless, "...so good." 

"Yeah?" Your cock twitched inside of her. 

She nodded, her eyes closed, "Fuck yes. Fuck, your cock feels so good inside my tight little asshole." 

"That's right," you said, picking up the pace. "And no one will make you feel like this." 

"It's all yours," Wonyoung moaned. "Always yours, Daddy." 

Somewhere along the way you had transitioned to the one who was laying a possessive claim as opposed to Wonyoung. Whatever, you tossed it up to the heat of the moment. This changed nothing but it did motivate you to see this through to the end. After that it'd be like this never happened but until then her ass was yours. 

Your grip on her hips tightened as your pace increased, pounding her  backdoor. Wonyoung's hand dipped between her thighs, rubbing her clit as she chased her second orgasm.  

"Fuck!" She chanted, becoming more vocal as her climax drew near. 

"I'm going to come," you grunted. "I'm going to fill you up." 

Wonyoung didn't have the capacity to reply, instead her mouth fell open in a silent cry as her second orgasm washed over her. Not one to be a liar you finally managed to fit your entire length into her ass, just in time for your own release to hit you. Your cock swelled before spilling an obscene amount of cum into her bowel. As you pulled your cock out you watched your cum ooze out of her puckered hole.  

"Jesus christ..." You muttered, chest heaving.  The sight alone was damn near enough to make you want a round two. 

For once Wonyoung didn't have a smart comeback, instead slowly sinking to the ground in a heap, her cheek still pressed against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Idly you couldn't help but wonder if this was how she imagined this encounter was going to go when she first confronted you. Maybe you'd get to ask her once some of her senses returned. For now you just wanted to bask in the pleasure of what had just happened without thinking too hard. 

TWO WEEKS LATER. 

"Un-fucking-believable." 

You stared at your phone, watching as the latest tiktok reel came across your screen. You watched as your girlfriend, Sunmi, and your ex-girlfriend, Wonyoung, completed a dance challenge together. Of course, Sunmi had no idea about your past relationships. Wonyoung on the other hand was well aware. 

And yet here she was, doing a dance challenge with the same woman whose boyfriend had been fucking her ass not two weeks earlier. 

You could only shake your head in disbelief and some mild concern. "What the hell are you plotting, Wony." 

[orchidyoonkook]

PG | KTH

Title: PG 

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point. 

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends. 

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother. 

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out. 

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too. 

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two. 

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay. 

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him. 

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long. 

Every time you could get it. 

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team. 

For four years. 

And then the university swim team.

For another four. 

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then. 

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would. 

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim. 

Thank god for sunglasses. 

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you. 

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet? 

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile. 

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong. 

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you. 

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung. 

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt. 

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that. 

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more. 

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught. 

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt. 

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually. 

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart. 

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water. 

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.  

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool. 

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days. 

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun. 

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really. 

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped. 

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking. 

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that. 

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches. 

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets. 

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?” 

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat. 

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes. 

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?” 

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him. 

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager. 

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit. 

And it works like a charm. 

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that. 

Definitely not.  

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again. 

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding. 

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air. 

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend. 

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say. 

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand. 

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end. 

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother. 

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction. 

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen. 

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool. 

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel. 

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you. 

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch. 

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge. 

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell. 

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims. 

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven. 

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday. 

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for. 

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids. 

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you. 

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed. 

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break. 

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you. 

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually. 

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit. 

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer. 

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks. 

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close. 

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you. 

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there. 

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed. 

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends. 

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays. 

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating. 

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother. 

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall. 

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent. 

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained. 

And yet. 

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot. 

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you. 

But you push him away. 

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t. 

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend. 

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’. 

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more. 

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment. 

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air. 

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages. 

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself. 

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did. 

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left. 

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist. 

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think. 

Because Fourteen isn't here. 

And old habits die hard. 

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising. 

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner. 

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him. 

Safe. 

You’re safe. 

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body. 

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous. 

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years. 

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung. 

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan. 

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety. 

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions. 

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight. 

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood. 

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor. 

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment. 

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by. 

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?” 

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now. 

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth. 

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth. 

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed. 

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back. 

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it. 

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him. 

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black. 

Oh you are so fucked.

 “As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like. 

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine. 

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point. 

My Girl.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once. 

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up. 

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth. 

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips. 

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does. 

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes. 

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck. 

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows,  the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing. 

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it. 

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine. 

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it. 

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night. 

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere. 

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you. 

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone. 

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part. 

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently. 

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end. 

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.” 

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders. 

It makes you smile wickedly. 

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw. 

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you. 

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick. 

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything. 

Yet.

 “Can you behave for that long?” 

You smirk. 

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe. 

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well. 

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby. 

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need. 

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs. 

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae. 

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky. 

Mesmerizing. 

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his. 

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him. 

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge. 

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat. 

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a  low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure. 

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you. 

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks. 

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips. 

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees. 

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it. 

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well. 

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you. 

Taehyung. 

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung. 

Wants you. 

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving. 

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned. 

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side. 

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming. 

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess. 

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis. 

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes. 

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body. 

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again. 

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time. 

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly  deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed. 

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again. 

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it. 

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out. 

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth. 

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time. 

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents. 

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact. 

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.” 

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine. 

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and  delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.” 

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled. 

Blissful. 

Then pushes back in, methodically. 

Torturous. 

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is. 

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over. 

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas. 

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well. 

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you. 

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough. 

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own. 

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless. 

It’s a great move but it’s exerting. 

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone. 

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around. 

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass. 

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain. 

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance. 

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you. 

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care. 

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane. 

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be. 

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you. 

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion. 

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and  drown in once another’s embrace. 

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another. 

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect. 

Before consequences kick in and regrets form. 

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets. 

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning. 

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away. 

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning. 

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out. 

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies. 

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground. 

“All of it. Any of it.”

There. 

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him. 

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened. 

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts. 

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself. 

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion. 

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg. 

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place. 

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move. 

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right. 

An idea strikes. 

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door. 

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

[catfern]

─ restless dreams.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (?)

music: a world of madness - akira yamaoka

word count: 2.3k

summary: you're dead. with how ellie's been coping, she might as well be. that is, until she sees you, or rather, a woman with your face.

WARNINGS: heavy discussions of grief, illness, death. implied hallucinatory sequences, general themes associated with silent hill 2. smut, oral (r!receiving).

cat says ⎯ were ya'll waiting for pyramid head to show up?

if i could be … her.

but i’m not her

and she’s not me.

and you’re somewhere different.

on a different planet.

cold.

the merciless descent of winter had done nothing but bury ellie in a fog. a blur of forgetfulness, of numb reaction.

everyone had told her it would become easier. the festering pain in her joints would fade, the endless congestion in her head, like a dragnet of her slowed thoughts, would release.

“grief is just one of those things that you have to learn to live with.”

ellie wasn’t sure if she was learning. if she knew what that even felt like. what was it, to learn to love an absence? a gaping chasm, in one’s soul?

plagued. the sweetness of your voice lingered like stubborn molasses in her ears, a ghosting touch, nails scratching at her scalp, she could feel it. at least, for a few fleeting moments. in the sticky dark of her bedroom, memories of you clung to her back.

the pavement, slick with thin ice and dirty snow, echoed the song of her footsteps in the empty streets. she needed milk. a sick darkness had descended on the small space of her apartment, and her fridge stunk of something sour.

the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in the bitter wind. she hadn’t been sleeping.

she had thought, maybe, the chill in the air would help her. that the light would snap her from this daze, bring her to see this delusional miasma for what it was. but the wet sun, shrouded in grey, granted no such reprieve. she still saw you everywhere.

the shine of the linoleum tile seemed blinding in artificial light. ellie squinted in the change, her skin dry, pale and discoloured from weeks inside. 

she can feel the clerk’s gaze burning her through her clothes. she shakes the dusting of snowfall off her shoulders, and sees the tracks of mud she’s pulled in from outside. oh.

she scrapes the soles of her sneakers along the peeling grout of the tile, and shuffles her way along the aisles. the rows of fridge doors buzz in the dim silence of the store, there’s something metallic in the air.  

it was a dying habit, beelining for the skim milk. something you had put her on to, with your endless buzzing about dairy. it was comforting, following a path well-trodden through the small grocer, one she had so often taken when she had a softness to return to. her footsteps fell, heavy and loud and ringing her ears, empty.

ellie grunts a hoarse ‘excuse me’ to the woman standing in front of the milk fridge. she wasn’t grabbing anything, just standing … watching the milk as if waiting for it to move. so, ellie figured it was okay to push past. the woman moved back without a word.

the jug felt cool, and almost anchored, beneath ellie’s fingertips. something to latch on to, tangible in this maze of wretched passing time.

“sorry! i didn’t see you there.”

ellie bit so hard into her cheek it drew blood. warm, foreign in her mouth, an iron taste.

your voice was not an uncommon ringing in her ears, in these hellish pastimes. the open world teased her, so often she heard you in a gentle ripple of water, the humming engine of a passing car. but this …

it was you. ripped from fresh fucking dirt.

well, ellie wasn’t sure. a ghost in the corner store was not something she was eager to find, if that’s what this woman was. what you were. she could feel her hand twitching in her jacket pocket, an obsessive itch to reach out, to feel the tangible, the absent real.

your name slips past her lips like a familiar groove in her tongue, and the woman laughs. it’s deeper than yours, jilted, not sweet.

“are you confusing me with someone else?” she asks. no, no, she can’t be. it’s your face, every mapped detail from the haze of her dreams, ripped from your coffin and supplanted here. on this body, obscure.

it could be a mask. ellie could dig her fingernails under your pretty, unblemished skin and tear it off this creature, this … offence. would you bleed the same?

“i-“ the milk jug suddenly felt too cold, burning into the skin of her palm. she hesitated, joints locked, body aching. whatever frantic obscenities ellie had wanted to hurl at her, at you, for the affront of your very existence, dripped back down her throat, made her choke.

the woman tilts her head in anticipation. you don’t do that, you didn’t do that.

it’s not you.

“ellie? you told me you weren’t coming today.”

she can still hear the wheezing undercurrent in your voice, a haunting possession of the brilliance in your body. you weren’t meant to exist somewhere so … clinical.

“i .. wanted to see you.”

your hand ghosts her cheek, the prickling of neglected texture along the bone. she refused to touch you. not like this.

ellie’s breath comes heavy in the heady air of her apartment. she can smell the stale rot in the walls, consuming her with every struggling heave of her lungs.

she had left the fridge door open when she left, the flickering cold light leaving a staggering crack along the darkness. she slumps against the wall of her kitchenette, pressing her hands into her muddy hair, as if trying to hold herself together at the seams.

she was going crazy, wasn’t she?

you’re haunting her. ellie supposes that she knew you would. a spectre, a shadow tethered to her feet. she had hoped, she could push past it, cradle your tenderness close to her heart, lock away the rest. naive.

she had become too complacent with the shell of you that malady had created. she’d forgotten how angry you could get. even from beyond the veil of death.

but it wasn’t you. no, no, ellie reminds herself. that … woman, was a coincidence. a trick of the flickering, sickening lights. her grief had muddled her mind, made her see things that weren’t there.

maybe she so desperately wanted to see you. deep within the dairy aisle. maybe, she no longer had the strength to turn away from you, like she once had. maybe, she just craves something you can no longer provide.

three raps knock the wood of her door, and ellie shakes. visceral.

she doesn’t remember answering, but the threshold was there, her hand warming the cool bronze of her doorknob.

this was just cruel.

“oh! it’s you again!” her smile is a wicked caricature, something hollow. snow sits in her hair, and ellie is blighted with your warmth, ghostly in this empty winter. “sorry, my phone’s dead. i’ve been asking around, is everyone on vacation? you’re the only one that answered the door.”

“wh - what?” ellie couldn’t listen. 

you had broken your nose, as a child, a detail never lost on her in the intimacy of your nights together. she would trace her fingers over the bump the accident left, the irreverent flaws that endeared her, magnetised ellie to your person.

she studied this woman, her … perfections. the faultless slope of the bridge of her nose.

so … she was different? this wasn’t you. ellie wasn’t sure if the constant reminder was her anchor or her chain.

“can i use your landline?”

the question was simple, and ellie ached to oblige. invite her in.

“uh, sure.” it was a hoarse, quiet agreement. she shuffles to the side, carves a path for the stranger, who smiles at her sweetly, tight-lipped, in thanks.

her perfume was different. heavier, something darker. red fruit and earth. it caught in ellie’s nose, unwelcome. your name is a phantom on the dry ridges of her lips, and the woman snickers, the fur collar of her snow-dusted coat ruffling as she turns to meet ellie’s foggy gaze. the glory of what was once your gaze, now shared, was lost on this cheap copy.

“you keep calling me that. what, do i look like your girlfriend?”

ellie chokes on something that is not there.

“n-no, my late wife.” ellie could feel her gravity changing, re-centring. she crosses the floor slowly, listening to every creak of the old floorboards. reverent steps. “you … you could be her twin.”

she laughs, distant and deep, like a joke. like she couldn’t see the lines of desperation, of reaching hope that haunt the withering skin of ellie’s face. couldn’t she see? was she not aware of her own part she played in ellie’s torment?

or was she seperate from it all? was she simply passing through, a tourist in this purgatory?

the woman hangs up the receiver of the phone, having never called anyone. her eyes splay pity on this platter between them.

“i don’t look like a .. ghost, do i?” the teasing lilt in her voice was familiar. it was yours. she purses her lips. “maybe i shouldn’t have come. you’re clearly going through something.”

ellie’s hand darts out to ground itself on her skin, pressing into the bone of her wrist, the base of her body.

“ellie.”

she shook the molasses of your voice from her ears, pressed her eyes shut in beseeching of something free.

“please.” her voice was barely there, small in her throat, but enough to hear in the absence of wherever this was. wherever she has ended up. “you have to tell me who you are, if you’re real.”

the woman pouts, the way you did when you wanted something. her touch is soft, leading, like yours was, as it slips from ellie’s rusting grip and falls back, unceremoniously, onto the leather armchair in the living room. plumes of dust greeted her, only added to the stench in the air, the musk of unforgiving.

“it doesn’t matter who i am.” she says, and ellie almost stumbles after her, her knees aching as she falls, devout, ready to worship, if only this spectre gave her answers. “i know what grief’s like. and … i’m here for you.”

ellie breathes unsteadily, her hands shaking, cool sweat dripping down her back. the woman reaches out in the growing silence between them. her nails were bumpy, bitten down to the quick, covered poorly in thin, pink nail polish, as they scratch gently along ellie’s cheek.

“see? i’m real.”

an illness lined ellie’s stomach. wanton belief … this was real. there was a simplicity in this, in the dream that you had come back to her, after all. flesh warm and alive beneath her fingers, untainted.

“don’t you want to touch me?”

the image of you, of her, bleeds in ellie’s brain. you were asking with a sweetness you knew she could never ignore. temptation rots the soul, but hers had died with you. in your final breath, you had clawed it out of her.

there’s a certain cruelty to her touch, the way ellie splays her decay of passion upon this blank body. control is lost to her here, although a mirage of it echoes in her grip on your thigh, her nails ripping into the stranger’s skin, hoping to study whatever is beneath.

“please, please…” ellie’s voice is soft, chasing a dead docility up the woman’s inner thigh, her tongue pulling a cotton trail into familiar warmth. “i’m sorry…”

your head falls back against the edge of the armchair, soft, sweet whines dripping from the woman’s lips like honey, ellie’s nose pressing into the silk of your cunt, her tongue dazed and ever desperate to taste you. to feel you like you once were, broken, made whole again in the creeping twilight of an oncoming snowstorm.

a low rumble pulls through both of you, her lips a current on your clit, a tremor in the key of her voice. she has to pull herself up on her knees, push herself into your presence, to keep herself there, within this second chance. her body shakes beneath yours, in wait, for something that had long since disappeared.

she groans, something deep and distant below her throat. her tongue dances along the warmth inside you, painting her apologies, her dying grievances along the soft expanse of whatever lay inside, forever unheard. her fingers grip bruises into your stolen skin, a rough yank pulling you towards her.

you had hated when she was rough with you, but were you really here to complain?

“please, i…” her voice is something dark, muffled against your skin. “i need you, i.. you shouldn’t have left me. i’m sorry.”

“that doesn’t matter now.” firm and bitter, dry, calloused hands pull ellie up from her home between your legs. she could nearly whine at the absence of warmth, if the vitriol freeze wasn’t something she had so long deserved, so duly needed. ellie’s touch softens.

“nothing matters now.”

your gaze, her gaze, is scrutinising, painful to hold in her eye. but she needn’t look away, she shouldn’t. otherwise, she was sure you’d disappear. she couldn’t let you, never again. she could keep you alive, deep within the ire of her eye, she could, she was so sure.

something stings within her. feeling, it prickles back into ellie’s body like she’d been long asleep.

“i miss you,” ellie’s voice breaks against the cool, unwavering hand of the strange woman, the absence of mercy she so desperately sought. a sob shakes, sore in the column of her neck. the pain was welcome. “so, so much.”

tears run hot, her spine crooked as she falls back, looking up at you with a newly discovered vulnerability. you look at her, your eyes cold with pity and hate.

“i love you.” she chokes, begging like you’ll listen. “come back to me, i love you still.”

you shake your head. you won’t. ellie doesn’t deserve that kindness. no longer, anyway.

your wife slumps forward, pressing her face into the softness of your thigh like that would mean forgiveness, like that would bring back the innocence she had sorely stolen from you. your hand, with jagged nails, runs through ellie’s hair. brick wall comfort.

when you speak, your voice lingers in her ears like a bad hangover. it’s not yours, not anymore. whatever was left of you was rotten, spiteful.

“are you afraid?”

ellie sobs, loud in the impending silence.

there was something here. it’s gone now.

tag list: @r3starttt

[sl4sh3rsub]

billy lenz hcs (nsfw: mdni)

billy lenz x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: this is set in the mid-to-late 70s, perversion, old school + kinda one-sided phone sex, billy is loud as fuck + a creep + delusional, scent/musk kink, cumming on clothing, copious mentions of cum + precum, using cum as lube, dry humping, extremely dubious consent (somnophilia), masturbation (+ billy edging), oral sex (both giving + receiving, facefucking reeiiving), reader is referred to as 'piggy', p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), ass eating/nondescript tongue fucking (giving + receiving), handjob mention, implied violence (not towards reader), overstimulation (giving + receiving), diy home reno gloryhole, old school cum tribute, foot humping/light cbt??, light bondage (pun), sex toys (for billy), hickeys + biting (giving + receiving)

a/n: kinda edited. happy holidays folks!! this might be ooc but i swear i tried. was gonna add more feet stuff bc it's billy, but decided against it. if you're into that kinda thing, use your imagination - i only mentioned it once and i think that's enough tbh. this one also doesn't have as much literal sexual intercourse as my other hcs (just a heads up) it's been a hot minute since i've watched the film, so the characteristics might be off (i based this on my own interpretation of him and i haven't really read any billy fics recently.. oops) it's a little rushed but i really did try! hope you like it

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

billy got bored of all the sorority piggies and moved, hiding in a mixed residential college dorm building - a creaky colonial-style residence with a spacious attic. the first time he sees you, you're getting dressed to join the other boarders for dinner. billy heard you humming to a radio and peered down between the cracks in the stained floorboard. he's been unhealthily obsessed with you since then <3

billy is an absolute pervert and will sexualize anything and everything you do. from scratching your neck to wandering around your room in your underwear, he's already ogling and muttering how much of a fuckin tease you are

he becomes bolder over time and eventually sneaks into your room at night. after you catch him lurking in the darkness of your room and he doesn't get immediately thrown out, he grows more and more trusting of you. billy becomes accepting of your begrudging attraction to him and he definitely takes full advantage of it :< you reluctantly give him permission to venture into your room if he needs company or an outlet for his pent-up sexual energy - it must be pretty cold and lonely in the attic, what's the harm in cuddling with the lanky man? he's already your dirty secret and at this point, he'd kill for you

his favourite pastime is calling your room's rotary phone during the day and either making mundane conversation with you or having you listen to his rambling as he strokes his cock, not even ten feet away from you. if you start bashfully touching yourself to his babbling or accidentally let slip a moan, tilt your head towards the ceiling so he can see your blissed-out expressions (he definitely cums on the spot)

if you want to get in his good books, put some old cabaret music on your cassette player and give billy a show - whether it's a sensual strip tease or you touching yourself on your bed, billy will be over the moon. as the music ends and the room is quiet - apart from your heavy breathing and thumping heartbeat - little gasps and applause drifts down from your ceiling, making you blush and whisper your thanks

there is not a moment when this man is quiet. in sexual situations, of course he's going to breath loudly, growl and spout obscenities, but even in regular conversation he rambles and expresses his opinions in long, convoluted trains of thought

billy loves it when you're just with him - in reality, you're alone in your room with a creep peering down at you from above, but it's better to let him be delusional. no harm has come of it... yet

don't worry your silly little head about the opaque liquid dripping from ceiling, directly above the bed :< it's either his spit, tears or precum drooling down between the wooden paneling from him constantly edging, the sight of you just existing is enough to turn him on. if it somehow lands on you, billy will cum instantly at the sight of you with his love painting your skin. you look like his perfect piggy, he can't help it :(

he has a habit of dragging his leaking tip over your face while you sleep, smearing his musky precum over your skin for you to smell when you wake. his favourite hobby is staining your skin in his stinky, salty scent - from cumming in your underwear as a way of marking you to wiping off his pre on your lips (as to not stain his boxers), he will make any excuse to clean off his cock on you. if you've been dismissive of him or too caught up in studying, he'll threaten to wake you up by dragging his musty balls over your face. just saying.

whenever he sneaks down to spend time with you skin-to-skin, billy practically goes feral. he's already jittery and constantly rock hard, so expect him to hump you like the degenerate mutt he is. every time you hug or lie next to him, he'll wrap his arms around you and start grinding against you, burying his face in your shoulder. he might not even want to initiate sex!! billy just wants to show his affection and attraction to you :(

billy isn't lying on the phone calls about what he wants to do to you. his inexperience is second to his enthusiasm and need to tongue-fuck you at every given opportunity. your spit-shined, sloppy hole is his favourite view on any day of the week and you bet he's going to make the most of it. make sure to place down a towel under his hips while he goes to town, he tends to leak precum freely and stain your bedsheets whenever you two so much as hug :>

he is a massive drooler, so watch out for the spit puddles on your pillow and mattress after he graces you with a visit. billy is also massive fan of visiting you in the dark - be it night or whenever you have your curtains closed - as he is pretty embarrassed about his constant ahegao face. it's especially prevalent when you touch him just right or suckle on his skin in that perfect spot

billy is constantly babbling about how much you can take his juicy, meaty cock in your tight piggy hole and frantically escalates whenever you pick up the phone. he always describes how he's gonna taste your arousal and fuck you until your legs are shaking, his fingers itching to touch every inch of you. billy's third-person descriptions throw you off a little, but he gets the point across pretty well. his insane squeals and huffs get louder as the lewd, wet rhythm picks up with every passing minute

if someone picks on you, he'll find their phone number and target them with streams of profanities and harassment until they leave you alone and back off. if you come home crying from a bad experience around strangers or tell him of someone who attempted to hurt you, he'll take it upon himself to dispose of them. how else would he rid himself his violent urges? he has to protect you and keep you for himself somehow

expect weird, out of place stains on all of your clothing. from small splatters to large and obvious splotches, every clothing item has remnants of his visits to your dorm room

billy has long-winded phone calls with you, about everything from your life to your interests and favourite things. there's shuffling above you every once in a while, but don't worry about it. it's not possums or raccoons in the insulation, just billy trying to get comfortable - his back aches from craning his neck to see you in, leering from in between the wooden gaps

he will leave you little scribbled notes on crumpled, used envelopes - his barely legible chicken scratch goes on about how pretty you look when he's looking down at you and how fun you are to play with

billy is incredibly touch starved - he'll regift items he finds laying around in exchange for kisses or even a rushed handjob (if he asks nicely enough). the nicer and less dusty the present, the better the reward

his idea of heaven is the feeling of you gagging and choking on his dick, especially the dazed look in your eyes while he fucks your face. the way you catch your breath and let him just stand above you, staring at the mess of cum he made on your face, has his heart pounding in his chest. billy's gaze is one of pure adoration, especially when you have his throbbing cock resting safely in your mouth

prepare to be overstimulated!! he's a fuck machine and will go until he's shooting blanks, or you shove him off to take a break. he is so conditioned from his constant masturbating that he does not get soft after shooting his load - he keeps hissing through the sensitivity as he drills into you like a jackrabbit, hitting your deepest points and sending shivers down your spine. he uses his thick, goopy cum as lube half of the time - he often cums the second he pushes into you, feeling your warmth around him. good thing he has animalistic stamina and strong thighs :>

billy is extremely noisy but will gladly attempt to muffle himself if it means he won't get found out, if it means he gets to stay in the residence - with you - for longer. he's a whiny and breathy moaner though, so never expect complete silence

his pale skin practically glows under the moonlight whenever he pays you a night-time visit. his cock bobs whenever you ghost your fingers over his side and through his hair, precum pooling and dripping down his long length as he gently moves his foreskin back to reveal his flushed - borderline purplish red - cock head. the few freckles scattering his tummy and the wild, wispy brown bush surrounding his base makes him feel pretty insecure about his body - it's not at all like the buff, tan men in the risqué mags or porno tapes. reassure him that he's mouthwateringly attractive, swollen cock and all. the one downside of giving billy head is that his cum tastes very acidic and bitter - invite him to share a healthy lunch of salad and fruit with a healthy jug of water every once in a while, it'll benefit you both

most of the encounters between you two will happen at night or with him partially obscured, but eventually he'll gain enough confidence to emerge from his den and visit during the daytime

he makes a glory hole at the top of the stairs that lead to the attic - he knocks out a section of paneling that's hidden next to a cabinet, perfect for you to hide behind while kneeling :< he's not that considerate though, he still forces you to be vigilant while he makes you choke on his length without a care - you can't give him away, not in a compromising position like this!!

he sneaks into your bathroom and showers with your hair product and soap whenever he feels lonely. he's too musty to change his clothing and wear some of yours, but he's not above nicking your clothes detergent whenever your scent starts fading away.

billy is also in the habit of hiding in the shower behind the partially see-through curtain, lurking - his presence makes you hum in greeting as you wash your hands in the sink. he might stick his hard cock out from behind the curtain and giggle as it bobs just in your line of sight. if you decide to glance up at the tall silhouette while you take him down your throat, you'll see his hands scrunching the material into a wrinkled mess. at least you have billy's musty cardigan to kneel on, bruised knees are never fun

if you fall asleep while studying on your desk, he'll scuttle down and shift you ontop of the bed - he can't have his object of affection feeling under the weather. strained muscles and unnecessary soreness are gonna get in the way of your fun time with billy!

you might think you're going insane from time to time... don't worry though. the giggles, shuffling and faint moans echoing in your head are real, he's living directly above you after all. nothing to worry about :<

he is a little bit of a hoarder and definitely a thief - from strands of your hair on the floor to dirty tissues that landed in the bin after a masturbation session, it all ends up in billy's little gross pile of stuff in the corner of his lair

billy is creepy and definitely sneaks into your room at night to jerk off furiously in the corner - he loves looming in the shadows as his tip leaks like a broken faucet, groaning at the peaceful sight of you sleeping without a care. if he's feeling adventurous, he'll use your limp hand to hold his balls as he drips all over your mattress and strokes his length

whenever he's bored of the stashed porn mags in the attic, billy watches you below as you study and his hand wanders south. he uses your speed of writing as the metronome of his strokes and tries his best to not fuck his hand at the thought of giving you some 'under the desk support'

while you're out in classes, he beelines towards your bed and takes a nap in your bed, cuddling with one of your plushies. you may have caught him mid-snooze more than once, but you'd best not bring up how cute the stinky man looks or else he'll start sulking

billy guilt trips you into paying more attention to him - he needs someone to talk to plus he can fuck you too, what else could you possibly want? you see how needy he is firsthand when you return after class, walking in on him pinching his nipples as he bucks his hips and humps into your pillow. his desperate whines of your name tug at your heartstrings as you coo at his pathetic display. he really does get lonely though - billy likes imagining how it would feel to be hugged by you whenever he's feeling chilly upstairs

he will sit on your face as he gets off on demeaning you, sensually running his fingers over his cockhead as he rests his tight balls on the bridge of your nose. he has a knack for degrading you but isn't able to resist praising you, babbling about how good you're being for him and how hard he is because of you

he scatters polaroid cum tributes around your room whenever he visits without you noticing. all of the photos he took of you are eerie and at angles that could only be explained by him tailing you throughout your day-to-daylife. don't feel paranoid though, he's only wanting to ensure your safety! unfortunately, the evidence of his lurking was too tempting for him... it's now permanently stained with evidence of his lust. hope you like the present

billy asks you to buy him a vibrator for christmas! why- what do you mean no? but he gets lonely, he'll need something to keep him company. would you change your mind if he says you can use it on him too? :>

he cleans up your room to the best of his ability! he's not all altruistic though... billy steals your chewed pencils, sniffs your dirty underwear and swaps out your sweaty pillowcases to cuddle with and huff your scent from later

billy lenz is actually gross. he will want to bend over you and bury his nose into your chest, armpits and crotch after a long day. your sweat is such a turn-on for him, his cock swelling the moment you swing open your dorm door with a tired groan

if he wants to be more submissive to you, he'll beg you to help him cum by lightly grinding your foot into his throbbing cock. billy's bulge may strain against his sweatpants and tears may roll down his face, but the damp patch betrays his filthy arousal as it grows progressively bigger. the moment you comment on his enjoyment, he flushes deep red and his masochistic grin betrays how drunk he is on the pressure of your foot

tie him to a chair with old christmas lights he found in the attic, the glass bulb clinking together as he shivers at your teasing - slowly suck his cock and trail up to his tip with your tongue, edging him to the point of tears. he drools as you squeeze his cock slightly in his hand and scold him for being such a pervert

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

he mutters how soft your skin is and how handsome you look under him. yes, he might narrate the entire time (in third person, nonetheless) but billy never fails to groan how amazing you feel as you clench around him

if you lie quietly in bed, you'll hear obscene and muffled ramblings about your 'juicy piggy cock' and billy's perverted fantasies drifting down from the paneled ceiling

if you roll onto your back throughout a night when billy pays you a visit, he'll palm and kiss at your bulge as you sleep. he hisses in delight whenever you hump into his warm mouth, muffled noises becoming breathier with each passing moment. his guilty pleasure is dragging his tongue along your length and hearing your bleary whimpers

find two dildos that have a similar size and shape as you! he is pretty inexperienced in same-sex relationships, so why not help him practice? it'll be much easier for him to train his hole and gag reflex if he can practice on your size, even when you're away from your dorm :>

billy gets extremely jealous whenever you speak to anyone ever :( if he catches you planning a date or even talking to someone else, he'll whine a lot more than normal and sniffle down the line the next time you pick up the receiver. he might be able to pass it off as his normal attitude and shenanigans, but you know him better than he gives you credit for. invite him down to your room, cuddle him for a bit and fuck him into the mattress to show how much you care - whisper about how good he's being for you and mark up his neck with love bites

tangle your fingers in his hair as you kiss down his jaw, guiding him to sit in your lap as you shift in your seat and buck up into him. watch as his eyes roll and his tongue lolls as you hit his prostate over and over, fucking him dumb so easily

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

he mutters how soft your skin is and how pretty you look under him. yes, he might narrate the entire time (in third person, nonetheless) but he groans out how amazing you feel as you take him down to the balls

if you lie quietly in bed, you'll hear obscene and muffled ramblings about your 'pretty piggy cunt' and billy's perverted fantasies drifting down from the paneled ceiling

billy cums all over your pussy as you sleep, leaving you to blearily wake up in confusion as it cools on your skin. it's already a messy cleanup, so be thankful he didn't choose to mark his territory your whole body

he wants you to sit on his face!! billy will eat you out like no tomorrow, throbbing and leaking uncontrollably into your sheets. he slurps and sucks on your clit until you see stars - despite his inexperience, his vigor and obvious enjoyment makes up for his sloppy movements

he squishes and squeezes at your tits as he sits crisscross on your mattress, staring in fascination. his excitement visibly increases at every mewl and whine from your mouth, jolting at your louder noises and chuckling at your breathless gasps. the softness of your breasts always catches him off-guard, his constant need to cum all over your chest becoming more and more obvious

the lewd sounds of him stroking his cock and you fingering your cunt are all the more prevalent whenever you're lying down together and he's spooning you. he's panting into your hair, wrapping his free arm around your waist from behind as you circle you clit firmly. the obscene, sloppy sounds echoing throughout your room end up on replay in both your heads for the next day

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

he mutters how soft your skin is and how handsome you look under him. yes, he might narrate the entire time (in third person, nonetheless) but he groans out how amazing you feel as you take him to the hilt

if you lie quietly in bed, you'll hear obscene and muffled ramblings about your 'wet piggy hole' and billy's perverted fantasies drifting down from the paneled ceiling

billy cums all over your boypussy as you sleep, leaving you to blearily wake up in confusion as it cools on your skin. it's already a messy cleanup, so be thankful he didn't choose to mark your skin up as well. he's a notorious biter and will not shy away from leaving bruises to ward off competition

he loves cornering you against your wall in the middle of the night - everything from the feeling of your arousal coating onto his fingers as he jerks you off, to the sharpness of your teeth biting into his shoulders as you muffle yourself. his favourite part is feeling your muscles slowly relaxing as you come down from your high

he suckles on your tcock as you leak down and coat his chin in your cum. billy will be a menace and run his cockhead against your hole and use your precum to jack off, coating your heated skin in his thick spend

he loves hearing how ruined the both of you become whenever you fuck yourself on his cock - he has the perfect vantage point to watch you bounce on his lap as he digs his fingers into your waist, sloppy sounds echoing around the room as his balls slap against your ass. billy's panting whimpers sound so pretty as he grits his teeth whenever you clench on his length

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

he mutters how soft your skin is and how pretty you look under him. yes, he might narrate the entire time (in third person, nonetheless) but he groans out how amazing you feel as you clench around him. he has a habit of burying his nose in your hair whenever he bottoms out, needing to be drowned in your scent and the feeling of your pussy

if you lie quietly in bed, you'll hear obscene and muffled ramblings about your 'pretty piggy hole' and billy's perverted fantasies drifting down from the paneled ceiling

if you roll onto your back throughout the night, he mouths at your bulge as you sleep. he hisses in delight whenever you hump into his warm mouth, muffled noises becoming breathier with each throb against his lips

he will swipe a lipstick or two for you - the sight of you with it smeared all over your face after a rough facefucking makes him giggle with glee, the pigment staining the base of his cock. he thinks you're all the more beautiful when he gets to ruin your makeup after you're all done up for him

billy latches onto your tits whenever you're shirtless - he loves leaving teeth marks and bruises around your nipples, practically marking his territory. he especially loves when the purple love-bites peek out over the cup of your bra :>

he loves bending you over your bed whenever he fucks you, your face buried in your pillow to muffle you loud noises as your girlcock dribbles all over your sheets. it's not like billy isn't making a mess either - his drool flying everywhere as he fucks you in a frenzy, balls slapping against the back of your pretty thighs. no matter how much or how deep he cums in you, it always dribbles back out of you and stains your bedding with the drying droplets

_ _ _ _ _

if modern day billy lenz had a ph account and made videos of him masturbating in the dark (while making his weird noises and shit), he would have a solid fanbase of weirdos who find it creepy and hot. i'm saying this as someone who would watch him religiously btw :>

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[eularin]

I was quietly browsing the obkk tag on ao3, looking for a hot and erotic read to spend the night when I came across a common headcanon: Obito, the greatest terrorist of the Elemental Nations is a virgin with zero experience and Kakashi is the greatest fucking machine in Konoha (or, in other words: much more experienced than Obito)

This got me thinking. I thought about it so much that I came up with several ideas, several headcanons that I need to share with you since I don't know if I'll be able to write a story like this on my own. (I have so many stories in progress/on hiatus in Google docs that I get all messy 😅)

Okay, here we go! How about a reverse trope? We know that ninjas are excellent war machines, they can also be great fucking machines! (They know the anatomy of the human body so well. Isn't it stupid to think that they can use this knowledge for other things that have nothing to do with killing and torturing)

I like to imagine that Kakashi is a reserved man in his private life. He doesn't kiss and tell. Not at all.

Kakashi is known as a pervert because of his beloved icha icha book, but we know that being a reader of porn stories doesn't make someone a sex-active person (or does it? I'm not sure if it counts that way). Anyway, moving on: Kakashi is reserved and rarely gets sexually involved with anyone (oh, he certainly has experience, but you know, PTSD, depression and other various triggers that can be triggered at any time are not good libido stimulants, in my opinion), continuing:

When Kakashi is feeling good and wants to have a casual encounter and a quick hookup, he doesn't go for it as himself. In other words: He doesn't like being Hatake Kakashi at those times (too public, too infamous, too risky. Too problematic. Better to disguise himself)

Kakashi is the king of disguise. He has several disguises - and Obito knows all of his disguises because Obito is a stalker freak who has a sixth sense for when Kakashi is feeling good enough to socialize. So he stalks Kakashi and monitors him.

Creepy, I know, but that's canon.

From here on things get... A little crazy? Disturbing? In short, things get a little dark.

Obito is so obsessed that he doesn't like to see Kakashi "moving on" much less getting involved with someone because for Obito Kakashi has to live in misery like he does. They need to make an agreement like this - in Obito's opinion.

But if Kakashi wants some sexual gratification, Obito can give it to him. (And why not? Obito already gave him the eye.) But Obito can't always intercept Kakashi (remember how Obito is a criminal busy plotting world domination? Destabilizing Kiri? Recruiting ninjas for the Akatsuki?) so Obito can't always disguise himself, intercept Kakashi, and be his one-night stand. What does Obito do when Kakashi spends the night with a literal stranger? It's not too hard to guess: Obito kills Kakashi's temporary partner. (Possessive, obsessive, and delusional Uchiha make a disastrous combination.)

There may be some torture and a crazy speech about "you're going to die bc you touched my teammate"

Unnamed character tied up and kidnapped by Obito: "What? Are you crazy? I don't even know who you're talking about!"

Obito: "I'm talking about Kakashi! MY teammate. Mine to touch. MINE to make him suffer. MINE to kill. MY Kakashi! And you dared to sleep with him! I hope you enjoyed your night because you're not getting out of here alive. I don't want you living in the peaceful and perfect world that I WILL CREATE in a few years. Like I'm going to let you enjoy my hard work and dream about MY Kakashi.

*Cut 🔪* the unnamed extra dies and Obito is ready to give Kakashi some nightmares (in his opinion, Kakashi needs to be punished and reminded that this hellish reality is not worth living in nor looking for good things)

~~

Okay. Now let's move on to my second idea!

We know that Obito is obsessed and obsessive. He's a crazy stalker who always watches Kakashi.

Obito is one of, if not THE greatest assassin of the Elemental Nations. He can easily be the greatest fucking machine as well. Imagine the fame that Don Juan Obito has! (let's call him Don Juan Obito, bc I can't think of a pseudonym right now).

Consider all the physical changes in Obito's body. He has seemingly limitless stamina, lots of energy to burn; lots of stress; lots of hormones inside his body going crazy during spring, mostly (Mokuton's fault. You have no idea how much it affects him.)

Jiraya wants to declare war on this ninja who dares to bewitch all the ladies in the red district wherever he goes. And the worst part! It's not just the ladies who sing praises to this magical dick Don Juan Obito.

Jiraya can't stand to hear the giggles and sighs around this man whose identity he can't figure out. (Tsunade is laughing somewhere)

Bonus scene: imagine that Kakashi (in one of his disguises) is also sighing in delight.

He didn't just have the best sex with this stranger (sort of familiar), he also received the best aftercare. But Kakashi is a reserved man, he doesn't kiss and tell. He also doesn't tell that this sex god always favors him and comes to see him every night 🤫

Kakashi wouldn't be Kakashi without a little angst and drama, right? So he has these uncontrollable Hatake instincts whenever his sexual partner is around. He wants to bite, to make his claim on this man obvious, he also gets jealous when he hears all these compliments about his man (it's not his, he knows but try to convince his instincts otherwise).

Also: to drive Kakashi crazy and mortified with himself: he thinks about Obito. Always. He slips up and calls out Obito's name and his sexual partner happily ignores it (in fact, his partner gets even wilder). But sometimes his partner is also a shit, he will ask blatantly: who is Obito? His ex-boyfriend?

(Kakashi is freaking out internally. How the hell does he imagine his ex-teammate dead at these times?)

Obito is having fun. He will probably try to sell his idea of a perfect world to Kakashi (he is so good at pillow talk. Kakashi is being seduced and manipulated.)

Bonus Scene 2: Imagine when the Eye of the Moon Plan is realized. Imagine how many people are dreaming about Don Juan Obito!

That's it. That's the post. I needed to get this out of my mind and ramble on about obkk/kkob 🤯

[ofallthingsnasty]

H A T for Ace? Hehe

Yandere Alphabet

pffffft 😂 hey, i should be the one making cheesy jokes here skadjk honestly, it might be my grand old age (not really) but he's such a soggy little man to me. you have been warned - he's very different to the ones posted so far.

tw.yandere, emotional manipulation, minors dni

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The whole fucking relationship. He depends on you, needs you. You’re his band-aid, his childhood plushie, his mom, his sibling, his partner, his best friend - Ace is the everything-issues man and all those deep-seated insecurities and all that trauma, all that hurt is coming out when he’s with you. He’ll never hurt you physically but it’s going to be a total mindfuck for you. This whole thing clearly isn't right; he is definitely out of line, you're in this situation against your will - but he's like a wet cat when he's with you and it's not an act. You'll feel like you're losing your mind - caught between being scared and forced to dry the tears of a man who has basically decided that you're his ersatz family. Maybe he'll snap one day? He doesn't seem to be the type but he already went so far - you never know with Ace.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He’s extremely affectionate. He’s constantly touching you, playing with your hair, your clothes, your accessories. He wants you to touch him, too - just dote on him, please, show him that you’re there, that you care for him.  Cup his cheeks, cradle his head - he’ll practically melt into your touch. If you initiate it, he’ll be so happy.  (Don't overdo it, though. Or else he's gonna start crying and you don't want that. Absolutely ghoulish.)

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh god, anything but tears, please. He simply can’t take those - it breaks his heart to see you sad. At first, he’ll try anything and everything to cheer you up - but it’s not only for you. It’s for him, too. I think he’s very unstable as a yandere, in the sense that he flip-flops between being delusional and being horribly self-aware of the things he has done to you. He didn't want to be a monster, ever. Now look at him, forcing someone into playing pretend with him. Maybe all those people were right and he really is a demon child.  But he can’t let you go, either. You soothe that sting in his heart, your touch is all he thinks about after a long day. As much as it eats away at him, he's too selfish to stop this.

So don’t cry, please, don’t make him face the reality of what this is. Play nice, play soft, play your part convincingly so he can forget about it all. Make him think you're here with him because you want to be and maybe he can finally believe that he deserves to be loved.

If your tears and silence don't get better, though - he’ll simply clam up and ignore you. Not out of malice, never out of malice - but he really can’t take it. He just reaches a certain point where he can't help you without spiraling himself and has to get away from those big, sad eyes.

[imagine-shenanigans]

Professor on Professor Violence (Professor Gale Dekarios x Professor Reader)

all you need to know is this is rivals to lovers where reader and gale have deeply sexually charged feelings for each other but they're both fucking idiots

AFAB reader, y/n not used, this has porn in it but it's 8k words of it you can also find it on ao3 right here but i have to go to bed now because i wrote this in a haze for six hours straight like a man possessed

Gale Dekarios.

The man.

The myth.

The legend.

The once lover of Mystra. The man who had survived the netherese orb. The man who had survived being infected by Mind Flayers and, with the help of his companions, had destroyed the Nether Brain.

Gale Dekarios.

The newest Evocation professor at Blackstaff.

Gale. Fucking. Dekarios.

The boy who pulled your hair, and gave you a black eye and who you had scratched and bit so much as a child that the two of you came home looking as though an owlbear had mauled you.

That Gale Dekarios.

That man, who was now teaching across the hall from you.

“And then he rolls his stupid sleeves up-” you rant, stabbing angrily at your lunch. Cheeks burning angrily as you direct the skeleton to continue cleaning the classroom. “And he says what a surprise to see you, Tabby.” 

“No!” Gossamer gasps, her claws twitching in the air. “What did Master do?” 

“I fucking left the room, obviously.” You snort. Scratching behind Gossamer’s quills as you take another bite of food. “Can you believe it? I don’t see the man for years and he still calls me that stupid nickname!” 

“Honestly! How hard is it to say- DON’T TOUCH THAT!” 

Dropping your fork, you immediately scramble up, turning your back on your familiar to stop the skeleton you’d animated from punching a damn hole into a desk.

“Gods above and below what are you- honestly!” You groan, throwing your hands into the air. “Can’t even, Gossamer are you seeing this shit-” 

Turning around, you see… the absence of your familiar.

“Gossamer?”

Oh shit.

There’s a quasit loose in the building.

SHIT.

(LINE BREAK) 

You are. 

So fucked. 

So unbelievably, terribly fucked. 

Of course, you’re currently the only member of staff with a specialty in necromancy. There’s a little job security in that, at least - most necromancers tend to be blowhards trying to reverse engineer their way into immortality, or are so terribly delusional about the blackness of their own hearts that nobody can stand to be around them for more than twenty minutes. And, yeah, okay, you’re also a professional. You get along with most of the faculty, and your small group of necromantic majors are doing well.

But, unfortunately, you’re hardly any more tenured than Gale. 

You’ve got a scant few months on the man, and if you don’t find your damned quasit who, by all means, has a penchant for mayhem, you’re absolutely, totally, irrevocably fucked. 

As discreetly as possible, you wander the halls of Blackstaff between your classes. 

Righting random wrongs that you’re almost certain are just normal wear and tear, but can’t be certain enough to leave well enough alone. Explaining that you were taking a much needed break when in reality you were doing your best to alleviate the damage you’re at least ninety percent sure is your familiar’s fault before someone actually realizes what’s happened. 

Thank the gods for the mending cantrip. 

Regardless, it unfortunately leaves you with a terrible headache, as your  last classes of the night（well, some stereotypes are true, at least.）filter out into the hallway. You roam about again, your… well, probably eighth trip into the hallway going just about as well as the rest. Even as the early morning light filters into the halls through the large windows, you really just can’t find the beauty in it. Not with that terrible headache beginning to grind at your skull. 

Like a nagging, angry voice in the back of your- 

”Can’t believe how immature-” 

”Ignoring me, really?”

Oh. 

Wait, no, that’s actually just Gale. 

Turning around just in marvelous time to peek back around the corner of the corridor, you get to watch Gale go completely off the deep end. Throwing his arms up in frustration, you joyously watch with immense satisfaction as the grown man kicks a gods damned doorstop. 

Amazing. 

”Did the doorstop jump out at you?” You can’t help but smirk. I hear those are prone to do that.

”Oh yes, very funny,” Gale grouses. Watching happily as his face twists in a soured exasperation. ”For the record, I know it was you in my office last night. I don’t know how you got in, considering I have that door locked by both mundane and magical means.”

Actually, it had been really easy. 

A bit of lockpicking you’d picked up could have come in handy if you didn’t just… you know. Have the knock spell prepared. 

…oh shit maybe he found the glitter.

”I have no idea what you’re talking about Dekarios,” you lie. ”I’ve been teaching all night.”

”Really?” Gale deadpans. ”That’s what you’re going with? You’ve been ‘teaching all night’? And I’m supposed to believe that.”

”You can believe what you want Dekarios. I haven’t been in your office.”

”Really, you’re going to play this game?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched. ”Who else in this bloody school enjoys bright colors as much as you? And so help me, don’t you dare blame Tara again. My tressym has more maturity in a single claw than I think you have in your entire body.”

…shit he did find the glitter.

”I love Tara. I would never blame her…more than once. But in my defense, she did help me that one time.”  Huffing softly, you cross your arms, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. ”Anyway, it was just a bit of glitter-”

”Just a -” Gale goes positively red in the face at that. ”Just a bit of glitter? I’d say you did a fair bit more than putting just a little glitter on my lecture notes. The ones I’m to use for my first class in a scant two hours, mind you. A little glitter my behind, look at this and you tell me if you can understand a damned thing on the page.”

…huh?

”Huh?” 

Staring at Gale’s notebook, which is now helpfully shoved in your face, you can see… fuck all. The neat handwriting that you’re intimately familiar with is completely scrawled over with your favorite crayon color. 

Huh. 

“I- okay I do now see how this looks.” You sweat, giving a nervous grin. “But I was… okay I was in your office, but I swear it wasn’t to ruin your lecture notes. I misplaced someo- something, and I was rummaging around to try and find it.”

“You were… rummaging around my office.”

“Yes.”

“For something important. Something that you misplaced.”

“Yes.”

“And it just so happened to be that you lost it in my office.”

“Again, yes.”

You watch Gale’s jaw clench, as he takes a steadying breath. 

“Now, just to be clear. Most people would take locked doors as a sign that certain rooms aren’t meant for them.” Gale drawls, arching an eyebrow. “But as you so eloquently put it, you chose to open the locked door to my office, and rummage around.”

“You’ve got it.”

“And just what, exactly, is it that you lost?”

“It’s ah…” you trail off nervously. “Well it’s not something I think you’d be able to find easily. It’s a bit… tricky like that.”

“Is it… a ring? Or perhaps another piece of jewelry? Something small, you mean?”

“No…” you wince. “I mean, yeah it’s a little small but it’s… the problem is it can move around.“

“It can…“ You watch Gale’s mind begin to whirr, working in overtime to solve the riddle you’ve accidentally just given him. Just when you begin to think you might be able to give him the slip and run for it, you watch Gale’s face contort in horror. “Tabby.“

“Don’t call me that-“

“Tabby.“ Gale begins, voice choked. “Do you mean to tell me. That you let Gossamer run loose in my office?“

“Let her is a strong phrase!“ You hiss, pulling Gale into your classroom. Looking around wildly before you shut the door. “She ran off last night while I was- well one of my skeletons was about to punch a hole in a desk while rearranging, and I was ranting to her, and then I turn around and I see the door open.“

“And you didn’t follow her?!“

“She’s a fucking quasit! She can turn invisible!“

“And -“

Ah. 

“What did you just realize?, Gale asks with a distinct tone of dread.“

Quickly opening and rummaging through the drawers of you desk, you look for your stationary. 

“You didn’t. Tell me. You didn’t.“

After the great ink war at age eight, it had been a requirement that all familiars and summons were to be kept away from stationary. And you had fully left the drawer open. Like a damned test. Taunting your poor, innocent little familiar like a succubus to a greasy teenage boy. 

“So,“ you begin. Holding up the crayon box that is, of course, missing your favorite color. “In my defense, I thought I locked the drawer.“

“You. You’re-“ Gale sputters. “You’re telling me, right now, that your familiar, who can turn invisible was let loose on the building with stationary.“

“…yes.“

“Dear Mystra, Tabby do you know what you’ve done to us?“

You can feel a twinge of something you are definitely not going to examine when he says her name, and push it down. Opting to focus on the anger bubbling in your chest. That you can handle. That is familiar. 

“I said stop calling me tha-“

Oh gods.

“Please tell me there isn’t more.“ Gale whispers, face pale as he sees the thought cross your mind. “Please, for the love of everything that is holy, there is not more.” 

“Well, you wince. I may have been ah… rambling this morning. And now I realize this may have been targeted because you… maybe came up.“

“Rambling. You were… rambling.“ Gale stares at you, as though you’ve just told him he’s become king of the possums that live behind the dorms because of an electoral vote. “To your notoriously spiteful familiar. For, I presume, long enough for her to not only find a way into my office, which was locked. With normal and magical means. And then had enough time after that to find my notebook, which contains my important class notes. Then draw all over them.“

“That is what you’re telling me.“

“Well technically I was - I really only turned around for a minute, but I had no clue she was going to run off to your office.“

“Now, just to be extremely clear. You said I may have come up. And you genuinely, for some reason thought she would not retaliate.“

“I complain about everyone Dekarios, don’t get a big ego.“ You huff, throwing a hand in the air. I’ve complained about you for years, why would I think she’d do anything about it now?!”

“You’ve complained about me for years?” Gale nearly shouts, voice raising at least an octave. “Years?!”

“We’ve known each other since we were four Gale!” You hiss back, throwing your hands in the air. “Is it really so hard to imagine that you may come up from time to time when I’m complaining?” 

“I have never uttered a bad word about you to Tara you should-” 

“Oh that is bullshit I talk to Tara,” you bite back. “And I know that you complain about me even if you don’t realize it.”

“I do not.”

“You do, and I know it for a fact because she brought it up when I talked to her last! In the middle of her complaining about your beard.” 

“Tara did what?” Gale asks, flabbergasted as he looks at you.

“She has some very strong opinions.” 

You did too… even if yours trended far more towards the opposite of the tressym, of course.

“Please,” you snort, misunderstanding Gale’s look of horror. “You can’t tell me that she hasn’t outright said it to you before.” 

“That is…” Gale scowls, looking away from you as he puts a hand on his beard. “Very hurtful. And none of Tara’s business.” 

You open your mouth to speak, and Gale cuts you off with a wave of his hand. 

“That’s not the point. The point is that my notes are ruined. The notes I, may I remind you, need for my next class. And while you may not write lecture notes, I do.” 

You sigh.

Tuning Gale’s ranting out for a moment, you rub at the back of your neck, already feeling a knot forming. Gods above, you do feel guilty. 

Stupid Gale and his stupid attractive beard. 

“I’m sorry,” you grit out. Almost pained. “I… did not ruin your notes, but I do know that it’s my fault since Gossamer did. I’m sorry.” 

Gale is silent for a long moment. 

You can see the surprise on his face, the anger slowly, reluctantly fading. It’s hard to pick apart the emotions on his face, but you like to think you’re slightly better at it than most, but there’s an unreadable emotion you don’t think you’ve seen before.

Strange. 

“I…” Gale sighs. “It wasn’t so much work. I should, in theory, be able to redo most of them before my first class.” 

“Let me help.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I…” you sigh, rubbing your hand on your face and brushing a bit of hair out of your face. “It’s my fault. I know it might disrupt your lesson plan, but I can take over your first class. You can send them to my classroom so they can focus and I’ll do a lesson about some of the overlap between our schools of wizardry.” 

“That is…” Gale nods hesitantly. “That would be most appreciated.” 

You nod again, a bit awkwardly. 

The silence in the room is palpable, and you try to ease the tension a bit. 

“Not like I have many classes,” you laugh. Turning to look through the bookshelf behind your desk. Anything to keep you busy and not focus on the weight in the room. “Necromancy isn’t nearly as popular as Evocation, after all.” 

“Yes well,” Gale laughs, and you see him sit on the corner of your desk. “I imagine some large number of students may be put off by the heart of the curriculum. After all, raising the dead does seem a tad… unsavory.” 

You scowl, rolling your eyes - but fighting back a smile. 

The age old argument between the two of you. 

“Yes well, you can complain all you want about how unsavory raising the dead is. But it’s incredibly useful when you can turn two zombies into a horde of undead and turn the tide for your allies. I mean, the ones that are transformed from your original two aren’t meant to last, but still. More targets to hit, but more firepower that can take a total sweep of your allies to a triumph with no casualties.” 

“Yes but it’s quite… well, the ethics leave something to be desired.” 

“There are ways to ethically source your minions.” You laugh, waving a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I can understand why someone might find it distasteful but you know not all necromancers rob the graves of innocent townsfolk. If you’ve got a horde of enemies, all you need do is help your allies kill two enemies, and then, well, the process I’ve already explained.” 

“You’re making it sound like you’ve done battle before.” Gale snorts, crossing his arms over his stupid chest, his sleeves rolled up his forearms. “Not that this is all theory.” 

You pause, hand on the spine of a tome. 

Hesitating, you pluck it from the shelf. 

“Because I have,” you deadpan. Not looking at Gale. “I was an adventurer before I joined the faculty here. I’m a professor because of my battle experience and practical application than just my theories, Dekarios.” 

That… makes Gale pause.

You can hear the gears turning wildly in his head, grinding intensely as he processes the words. 

He’s silent for nearly a full minute before he speaks again. 

“You… you’re an adventurer?” 

“Was,” you correct, turning to set the books on your desk. Unable to quite bring yourself to look him in the eye, you pretend that you’re checking the contents of the book. “I was an adventurer. I might do it again in the future, but that depends on how I feel and if any of the parties I’ve run with have need of a spellcaster of my caliber.” 

“You… haven’t told me that before.” 

An ugly, angry part of your heart stirs. 

Deep in your chest, you feel it claw its way up into your throat. The bitter, acrid taste that you’ve come to know so well. 

“Yes well, when have you ever asked?” 

“Don’t…” Gale begins, and you hear him sigh. “I simply… we’ve known each other for years. How was I to know you still had secrets to hide?” 

The black smoke of rage curls back up into your throat. Gnashing teeth and dragging claws. It hurts, snaking its tendrils around your heart in an ugly grip. Maybe if you were a little stronger, a little better, a little less… you… maybe you wouldn’t let it escape. Perhaps you’d just let it sit there and burn in your lungs. Or maybe you’d be honest, vulnerable. 

But you aren’t. 

“It’s not exactly a secret, Gale.” You snort, though the sound isn’t mirthful at all. “It was my primary income source for five bloody years.” 

Silence meets your words.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Gale asks, just when you’re about to look up at him and see if he’s still paying attention. “If you spent five years as an adventurer, you’d think I’d have heard about it.” 

“Ah, yes,” you nearly snarl. “Telling you. Would you have preferred I mentioned it between the paragraphs where you talked about your goddess lover like a lovesick puppy? Because I certainly couldn’t have mentioned it during the time you locked yourself in your tower for over a year because she dumped you.” 

You laugh, the sound bitter. 

Turning angrily, you ignore the look on Gale’s face. 

There’s a line you’ve crossed, and you know it. But the anger doesn’t subside. And you… don’t care anymore. 

(That’s not true, you do care. You care too much, you think. Too terribly much.)

“Oh, maybe I should have sent the update letter while you had an ilithid tadpole swimming in your skull. I’m sure Tara would have loved to deliver that letter to you.” 

Gale… flinches.

Huh. 

“You know,” he begins, anger rising in his own voice. Red hot. “It’s not like you’ve ever asked me how I’m doing. I don’t even know how you found out-” 

“Oh don’t you pull that shit with me Dekarios, I’m not the one who stopped responding to your letters. It’s the other way around.” 

“You- you only responded with one sentence half the time!” Gale stands, throwing his arms out as you slam the book in your hands shut. “I was lucky if you even responded for months!” 

You feel like a cornered animal. 

Gods you hate this man. 

Why does he always know how to get under your skin? 

“And what was I supposed to say Gale?” You demand. Knowing you’re crossing the line but needing to get the reaction that you’re looking for out of him. A sick, twisted part of you needs him to hurt like he’s hurting. “Congratulations on getting with the goddess who groomed you?” 

“It’s my life! It has absolutely nothing to do with you!” 

“Oh your life, that’s fucking rich Gale!” You shout, getting a little closer, leaning forward on your desk to point a finger at his chest. “What, you wanted me to sit by and say nothing about the matter? To watch my - to watch you love a goddess who is renowned for dating young boys? A woman who - again no disrespect to Mystra herself she’s a powerful goddess, I just don’t agree with her choices as is my right - dropped you the moment she was done with you?” 

You stare at Gale expectantly, waiting for any expression to twist on his face than the defensive rage you already see. 

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to note that down for next time. Next time, I won’t be supportive of you, I won’t just try and be nice or as nice as I can be. Next time, when you do something stupid I’m not going to even try to bail you out. No more sending loot to feed your orb, no more-” 

“Wait,” Gale interjects, an expression on his face you don’t quite understand. “Are you telling me…” 

You watch Gale’s hands clench into fists at his sides. 

“Are you telling me that you brought me items full of the weave while I was locked in my damn tower?” 

Ah.

Shit.

You… hadn’t meant to say that.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“I-” 

“You’re telling me…” Gale laughs, hands coming to cover his eyes as his head tilts back. “You’re telling me that you snuck items into my tower?!”

That…

Well it sounds… bad when he phrases it like that. 

“It’s not- I just knew you needed the items Gale! I had Tara take them inside and put them in spots to make them look forgotten.” 

“And you didn’t say anything, why?!” 

Because you… 

Fuck.

You can barely think it without hot shame washing down your back. Face warm, eyes hot. 

Like you’re about to cry. 

“It’s not important Gale,” you deflect. “You got the items, why does it matter?” 

“It’s not important?” Gale shouts in response. “Me dying wasn’t bloody important?!” 

“That’s not - that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Oh? And what is it that you meant?” 

Gods.

Don’t cry.

“I meant,” you begin. “That I didn’t want credit for it! I wasn’t doing it to curry favor or something, you needed the items and that was all that mattered to me!” 

In fact, you’d exclusively taken your cut of some adventures in magical items. Instead of gold lining your pockets, you’d worked on getting more and more loot, some you’d keep to get better jobs, and the rest you sent back home- back to Gale. He’d even shut out his mother during that time, the only person you could trust to get the items to him had been Tara. Who had promised not to say a word, the damned angel. 

Even more, you’d spent countless hours researching. 

Working yourself to the bone, searching through texts. Any mention of Karsus had immediately gone to the top of your list.

“I don’t care if you didn’t want credit, I was dying!” Gale shouts. “I spent a year in that tower with nobody to talk to. Thinking every day I was losing my mind, damn near insane with the knowledge that if I failed I would take all of Waterdeep with me, and you knew?!” 

Gale laughs again, the sound harsh against your ears. 

“What the hells is wrong with you?” 

Tears do prick your eyes now, and you scrub angrily at them with the back of your hand. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” You snap back, pushing angrily at Gale’s chest. “It’s not like you ever reached out! I had to find out from Tara, who was beside herself with worry!” 

“Of course I wasn’t reaching out! What was I supposed to have said? That I was losing my mind? Should I have just sent a letter saying ‘oh, hello, how’s your life going. I know it’s been awhile, but I’m dying and my life is falling apart’ and then went on to describe the weather?!” 

“Yes!” Gods you feel like every word is a pulled tooth. “Yes! You should have! Anything! Why on Toril didn’t you?” 

“Oh, and why would you have helped me?” Gale spits, letting you push him back a step before getting even closer than before. “Do you really think I’d have thought you’d have done anything but laugh at me and tell me I deserved it? That I was the biggest fool in the history of the Arcane?”

It’s like a bucket of cold water has doused you. 

Ice dripping down your spine, heart turned to stone in your chest, sinking deep into your gut. 

“Is that what you think of me?” You ask, voice low. “You think I’m so cruel, that I’m so heartless, that I’d have laughed in your face while you died?” 

“Of course you could be that cruel.” Gale spits, proverbial venom dripping from his lips. “I’ve seen you be cruel. You’ve made me look a fool a thousand times over for a laugh.” 

You stare at Gale, face turning cold. 

Expression neutral. 

You feel fucking sick. 

“Okay.” 

“I- okay?” Gale says, confusion etched into his face. “What do you mean okay?” 

“I mean, okay.” You say, already building a wall around your heart. “Get out of my classroom. I heard what you have to say, now get out.” 

“Excuse-” 

“No. Get out.” 

“You’re just… kicking me out.” 

“I am.” 

Gale stares at you, expression unreadable. 

Then, you watch his eyes cast over to the windows, and then down at the watch he pulls from his pocket. 

“Fine,” Gale spits, taking a step towards the door. His gaze locked onto you. “But we are not done talking about this.” 

“Sure,” you huff. “Later.” 

With a flick of your wrist, and a muttered incantation, you cast mage hand. Slamming the door behind him before flicking up an Arcane Lock. 

The moment you think you’re alone… Gossamer appears. 

A big smile on her face, a crayon in hand… and you just…

You just.

Sob.

//

You have a good week of peace. 

(It’s not good. It can never be good again.) 

You’re careful, between your days off, and your odd hours for the necromancy classes, to avoid Gale. 

But today is just not your day. 

“Professor Dekarios,” you say evenly in acknowledgement. Watching Gale enter the room while you’re wrapping up your final lesson of the day. “What can I help you with?” 

Gale is silent for a moment, aware of the eyes on him. The students of various ages that are watching with rapt attention. 

“May I have a word?” Gale asks, voice clipped. 

God you want to run. 

You have misty spell prepared. One of the windows is open to let in the afternoon breeze, and you’ve got a clear shot out into the open campus. You could do it, you just know it - 

“Sure,” you say instead, knowing exactly how that’s going to look if you do end up running from your own damned classroom. You’re already on thin ice from letting Gossamer run amok when you could have dismissed her. Which you. Completely forgot about. “My class will be done in just about fifteen minutes if you’d like to come back.” 

“That’s quite alright, actually.” Gale smiles, and gods. You’re fucked. “I’m happy to observe.” 

And he watches.

Waiting. 

You don’t stutter when you go over the homework for the evening - you don’t - and remind your class about the project that’s due two classes from now. Even more than that, you don’t stumble and your hands don’t shake. Certainly, you don’t stall by shutting both the window and the curtains. And, above all you don’t activate the wards in the classroom to make it soundproof and lock the door once all the students are gone. 

Those are all things that just happen to occur for different reasons. 

And still, Gale stands, leaning against the wall by the door. Arms crossed over his chest as you go back to your desk. Silent as the grave (if the pun can be forgiven) as you slowly sift through your mail instead of giving him the time of day. Both of you waiting to see who would break first. 

“So?”

“So what, Professor Dekarios?” You ask neutrally, carefully not reading the source of the letter in your hand before you open it. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.” 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” 

“I really don’t, actually. You will have to be more specific.” 

“Really?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched, voice low. “You don’t think, in the slightest, this might be about something you know?” 

You shrug, continuing to read the letter that’s… what even is it about. Some sort of promotion? No it’s- 

“You kicked me out of your classroom.” Gale hisses. “And you have been avoiding me.” 

“I have not been avoiding you.” Lies. “I’ve been busy. It’s not my fault you always seem to try and speak to me while I’m not here.” 

“You can’t-” 

You don’t watch Gale’s face contort with anger, don’t watch his fingers ball up into fists as his sides. But you know him well enough to imagine it, even as the splotches of ink all blur together on the page you’re holding.

“Fine, you weren’t avoiding me. Then why did you kick me out of your classroom?” 

“We weren’t having a productive conversation,” you answer simply. A week had given you time to re-build up the wall you usually afforded strangers, rather than the man you- “And so it was, in my professional opinion, the best for us to call it there.” 

“A productive- of course we weren’t having a productive conversation, I was trying to understand why you were hiding things behind my back, and you just tried to throw the blame at my feet-” 

“Professor Dekarios if we can’t-” 

“And stop calling me that!” Gale hisses, slamming his hand on your desk. You jolt - when had he gotten so close? “I’ve never been Professor Dekarios to you, don’t start that now.” 

“What’s done is done, Professor.” You continue, digging your hand into the fabric of your top. “I tried to explain myself, and you wouldn’t listen-” 

“Oh that is rich-” 

“And so I thought it best-” 

“You thought it best to stonewall me?” Gale asks incredulously, talking over you. A pang of irritation cuts through you, but you think you hide it fairly well. “Because that’s what you’ve been doing. You’ve been defensive and-” 

Gale stops, and gods.

You hate the face he makes. 

The dawning realization in his eyes.

You know that expression, you’ve seen it thousands of times. For good or ill, you’ve seen that face all your life. 

“That’s what this is about.” 

“What are you talking about?” You drawl, trying to keep some sort of neutral expression on your face. “Lay it out plainly, professor.” 

“You’re trying to shut me out.” 

Ah hells. 

“You- you’re upset.” 

A genius. 

Truly.

“You’re upset.” Gale repeats, arms crossing over his chest as a flat laugh escapes his lips. “You’re upset and you’re trying to make me leave.” 

“Gods I wonder what gave you that idea.” 

“No, no you’re hurt.” Gale cuts through, gripping the edge of your desk so tight that you can see his knuckles go white in the periphery of your vision. “So you’re trying to be some… cruel, heartless person to make me leave.” 

“I’m trying to be professional.” You frown. “Our… conversation last week made me realize I wasn’t. I’ll endeavor to be better in the future.” 

“Oh you’re not fooling me.” Gale’s hand comes down to rip the letter from your hands when you look down at it. “I know you’re not reading some… some school newsletter about what they’re serving in the mess hall in the evenings.” 

“Yes I am,” you huff. 

Oh so that’s what that was. 

Damn you actually should have read that - you really could use the staff meals if it’s something you can stomach. 

“No, you’re not.” Gale asserts. “Now look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull another letter from the pile and begin to look it over, reaching for your letter opener when Gale rips the damned thing from your hand. Ignoring your noise of protest. His hand coming up to - honestly kind of gently - grab your chin. Brows furrowed in anger as you’re stunned into silence.

“Look at me!”

You… holy shit.

You cannot process this.

Blinking dumbly, for the first time in years, Gale has rendered you speechless. 

“There,” he grits out. “Now you have to look me in the face while you lie to me.” 

“I’m not-” 

“You are.” 

“I am not!” You grunt, irrationally choosing to clamber up onto your desk, papers scattering as you try to reach for the letters in Gale’s hands. Hoping it will give you an advantage with a little more height. “I am trying to be professional! You- you horrible man!” 

“Oh yes, I’m so terrible because I-” 

“Because you’re a bastard!” You hiss, snapping your teeth at Gale in warning. The two of you were no longer children, but gods this reminds you of then. And, unfortunately for Gale, you’re still a biter. “Give me my mail!” 

It doesn’t take long for the spat to turn ruthless, Gale yanking the letters from your hand so hard you end up toppling over onto his feet. Ramming straight into his knees, which in turn sends him tumbling to the ground with a matching groan. 

“Ow.” 

“Are you alright?” Gale asks with a soft huff, rubbing at his shoulder when he sits up. “ Didn’t hit your head, did you?” 

“No,” you answer honestly, just like when the two of you were kids and trying to assess the damage before you went home. The anger of the moment briefly fading. “I’m fine.” 

“Good.” 

“And you?”

“I’m fine.” 

“Good.”

Silence reigns for a moment. 

“I don’t know why you-” Gale sighs. “You know you’re being ridiculous, right? Just be honest with me.” 

“I already tried to tell you.” You huff, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Doesn’t matter?” Gale asks, eyebrow arched. “You’re being a complete ass to me for no reason. Do you just enjoy being cruel?” 

A shard of ice pierces straight through the walls you’ve painstakingly tried to build. But one week isn’t enough time to shut Gale out. Not when he’s had years and years to get under your skin like nobody else could. 

“Yeah,” you answer with a shrug. Standing up and brushing yourself off. “Sure Gale. I do enjoy being cruel. Cruel and twisted and sadistic and all the horrible things you think of me.” 

“You-” 

Gale stops, stunned into silence. 

He opens his mouth and closes it, and you can watch… something build in his eyes. Anger? It must be, you realize, when you see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“You’re trying to make me stay away from you.” 

“No, I’m not.” You lie again, shrugging as you lean back against your desk. “You’ve just made it abundantly clear what you think of me. I’m not trying to change your mind anymore.” 

“That’s not-” 

Gale falls silent, and you watch the emotions play out on his face. 

This time you choose not to think about it.

“It’s fine, Dekarios.” You say flatly. “I’ve heard it before. I know what I am.”

Gale winces. 

“You can’t honestly think you’re-” 

“Heartless? Cruel? A monster?” You ask, arching an eyebrow. “Gale I’m a necromancer. Of course I am those things. I get the job done.” 

Gale stares at you, eyes unreadable, and you can feel the terrible, terrible feelings return. Everything that you’d ever been scared about as a child comes bubbling right back up to the surface. Betrayal burns hot in your chest. And- 

“What the fuck!” You choke out, jolting as Gale pushes you back into the desk. You go toppling on top of it, back pressed flat as he pins his hands by your head. “What has-” 

“You do care what I think about you,” Gale says, and you freeze. His voice is… it’s not quite surprised. Soft, but not- he speaks again before you can finish your thoughts. “You actually do.” 

“No I don’t.” 

“You do,” Gale says, just a bit breathless. God, is that… pity in his voice? That’s just enough- “You actually do.” 

Anger rises up like hot bile in your throat, and you feel tears prick in your eyes. 

“What, do you want a fucking medal?” You ask, eyes watery. “Just laugh at me. Get it over with so we can both move on.” 

“Move-” Gale blinks, and you recognize the anger in his eyes. “Move on?” 

“You think so little of me,” you spit, jabbing a finger into Gale’s chest above you. “Go ahead, laugh. Laugh at the stupid little beast who cared.” 

“Is that what you think?” Gale mirrors your words from days before, and it catches you off guard. “You think I view you as some… some heartless beast.”

“Clearly!” You bite out. “You all but said it outright.” 

“I don’t-” Gale blinks, eyes owlishly wide. “I didn’t mean that.” 

“Didn’t-” 

You choke on your own laughter, and decide to pretend it isn’t sobs. 

“Didn’t mean it? I spend years of my life trying to keep you alive, not telling you because I knew you’d reject the help.” You choke out, hot tears slipping down the sides of your face. “I didn’t want credit. And I try to tell you that, and the takeaway you got really did seem to be that I didn’t care.” 

“I-” 

“And now I know why! You fucking hate me!” 

“I don’t hate you!” Gale shouts, and gods, you do idly think about how glad you are for the soundproofing. “How the hells could I hate you?” 

“You sure sounded like it!”

“I don’t-” Gale begins again, before stopping. Realization dawning on his face again. “Gods. Gods you believe it. You believe I hate you.” 

“No shit!” You choke out, bringing your hand up to angrily scrub at your eyes. “Clearly you hate me! And I think so fucking highly of you. Even now, I-” 

“I’m an idiot.” Gale says plainly, the calm stupor in his voice enough to stop you dead in your tracks. “Gods, I am an idiot.” 

“What?” 

Eyes unreadable, Gale stares at you. 

And then - and then - 

Oh.

His lips are on yours. 

Head twisting, sealing both of your lips together in a heavy, hot kiss. Teeth clacking awkwardly with the force of it, Gale swallowing the sound you make as one of his hands comes up to grip your hair. 

Your eyes flutter shut, your own hand coming up to tangle in the locks at the back of Gale’s head. 

Gods this is…

Everything. 

You never- 

You shiver as your legs wrap around Gale’s waist as he kisses you. Desperate, hungry, like a man deprived of everything and given a meal for the first time in his life. He presses his body into yours like he wants to merge them into the same being. Getting lost in the kiss, you can hardly tell who’s doing what, your own actions, your own need, far outweighing the logical portion of your brain. 

Hands clutching and pulling and grabbing. 

Gale grinds against you and you nearly see stars - by the noise he makes, you’re pretty sure it’s the same for both of you. 

When the two of you finally part for air, your breathing is ragged, heavy gasps that match Gale’s own. Dazed, as your foreheads press together. Sharing the same air in a dizzyingly tender moment. 

“You,” Gale pants against your cheek, eyes half lidded in a way that makes your toes fucking curl. “I- again. Again.” 

You nod, desperately. 

“Please.” 

His mouth is on yours again, too much and not enough all at once. 

You roll your hips up into Gale’s again, groaning at the friction. Your hands are still tangled in Gale’s hair, heat rolling th-

“Oh fuck!” You gasp when Gale yanks your head back and to the side, mouth moving to your neck with a desperate fervor. Intentionally bucking his hips into yours harder. The angle making it easy for him to do so. “Gale-” 

“You-” Gale swallows thickly, nipping at your neck, his free hand coming to clutch your hip. “You drive me insane. Do you know that?” 

“I-” 

“You drive me insane, every damned day,” Gale growls out, body rolling against yours again. Pulling a high, needy whine from you. Gods, you’re rutting like teenagers and Gale is still fucking talking. “The things- the things you’ve made me want.” 

“I thought-” you choke. “I didn’t think you wanted me. I- fuck, you, I’ve wanted you for so long. And I just never, never thought-” 

“Never thought what?” Gale grinds out, voice hoarse as he bites down harder, sucking a hickey into your neck. “That you’d unravel me? Tear me apart at the seams? Make me ache for you, need you?” 

Oh fuck. 

God. 

Why is he so hot. 

“You didn’t-” Gale groans, leaving you breathless with each roll of his clothed hips against yours. “You didn’t know I’ve wanted you for months now, did you? Dreamed about touching you, just like this.” 

“Gods,” you choke out, feeling like you’re going out of your damned mind as your face feels like it’s on fire. Nearly dizzy with desire as you admit the things you’ve thought out loud. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Can’t… gods, Gale.” 

“You have no idea the images you put in my head,” Gale pants, uneven as he begins to struggle for the words. Groaning when you tug at his hair as he kisses your neck. “The things that I’ve wanted to do to you, to do with you.” 

“I think- I think I might have an idea,” you admit softly, legs wrapping tighter around Gale’s waist. “If they’re any- fuck - any similar to my own.” 

Gale groans at that. 

Teeth clamping down hard against your neck. 

“If you did,” he rasps. “I can guarantee they’re much filthier than you think.” 

And fuck, that sends a hot bolt of lightning through your gut. You feel yourself clench around nothing, a high, reedy whine pulling from your throat again. 

“Fuck.” You gasp. “Show me?” 

“You really,” Gale chokes out, moving back from your neck to grab your hips with both hands. Grinding down harshly against your aching core. “You really want to know what I think about, when I look at you?” 

“Yes. Yes, please-” 

Yanking your shirt up, you can hear the pop of stitching even as you try and assist. Bra coming with as Gale takes a handful of your chest into his palm. Fingers tweaking a nipple as you gasp, throwing the damned shirt across the room or something. You aren’t really sure, and it doesn’t matter. 

“Gods,” Gale whispers, almost reverently. Tracing his hands over your skin, leaning down to place kisses wherever he can, speaking between them. “Gods just look at you. So beautiful. So lovely.” 

“You have no idea what you do to me like this.” 

Your hands grip Gale’s forearms tight, as he holds you, giving a soft squeal when he nips at one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. A chuckle pulling from his lips while his hand tweaks the other.

“Fuck you can’t-” you choke. Squirming, unable to press your thighs together because Gale godsdamned Dekarios is between them. “Can’t just do that-” 

“Do what?” Gale asks, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Say how perfect you look beneath me? Tell you that every whine, every breath, every sound makes me want to ruin you?” 

“Holy shit,” you choke, jolting against Gale. You move, tugging desperately at his shirt. “Nine hells take your fucking shirt off Dekarios.” 

Gale has the audacity to laugh at that, pulling his shirt over his head with the same desperation you had. Tossing it somewhere you didn’t care about in the room, before moving to curl his fingers in your waistband. 

You nod, at the look he gives you. 

When he stays still, you groan. 

“Oh my god,” you huff. “Consent, hot, yes, get my fucking pants off before I soak through them.” 

“Let me appreciate the moment,” Gale smirks, but complies. Yanking off your shoes, pants, and underwear as quickly as possible to join schrodinger's clothing pile somewhere in your classroom. “You make me crazy, gods, you truly do. The thoughts I have…” 

“Show me then,” you taunt, rolling your hips into Gale’s, whining when you realize his pants are still on, the bastard.

“You truly want to know?” Gale grunts, his hand instead coming down to your thighs, holding them open as he presses a thumb, unmoving, right over your clit. “You want to know how badly I’ve daydreamed about you?” 

You choke on your answer, hips jolting as Gale moves his thumb, but Gale just presses your hips down against your desk harder. 

“You want to know how I’ve dreamed of you? Woke up with the taste of you in my mouth? Woke up to my own seed spilled in my underwear in the night?” Gale asks, punctuating his words with sharp movements of his thumb, his clothed cock grinding against your hole. He laughs, breathless, airy. “Like some desperate, hormone ridden teen?”

“F-fuck!” You gasp, every word going straight to your core. “Gods- just- I want you to ruin me.” 

“Don’t-” Gale chokes out, hips grinding against you. Trying to gain some sort of leverage, he slips a finger inside of you, watching your mouth go slack. “Don’t just say that. You’re going to break me, talking like that-” 

“I will say,” you groan, trying to remember words. “Whatever will get you inside of me faster.” 

“Don’t tease,” Gale chokes, slipping another finger inside. “I can’t take it.” 

“If I were teasing,” you choke out after a moment. “I would walk away.” 

A sound you’ve never heard Gale make leaves his lips, and you nearly squeal as Gale’s fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing harder. Watching every expression you make just to be sure. The kind of intensity you’ve seen him give spells - oh god. He’s taking this more seriously than you thought. 

“Don’t even threaten that,” he chokes out, teeth scraping against your neck as he leans down again. “I couldn’t- gods if you walked away-” 

“I wouldn’t,” you assure him, desperately shaking your head. “I wouldn’t- I was just teasing. Trying to- to show how - fuck! - how serious I - a-am.” 

“I would let you but gods would it break me,” Gale breathes, before sucking another hickey into your skin. He pulls his hand back, and you whine, shivering with need and desperation before Gale flips you onto your stomach. “Gods, just-” 

“Fuck,” you breathe, parting your thighs as Gale takes himself out of his pants. Tucking them down just enough before he’s lining himself up, and then slams into you. “Gale!” 

He pulls at your hips, arching you up into his touch. Snaking a hand around while he splays himself across your back. Fingers hot on your clit, Gale’s cock pounding in and out of you. 

You choke, eyes watering as your leg twitches. Pleasure spiking harshly in your lower belly. 

“Say it- say it again. Say my name again.” 

You nod, trying to arch back into Gale’s touch. 

“Gale!” You moan, your knuckles going white as you clutch at the desk. 

Gale continues to rub your clit, harsh, and fast, as he pounds into you, desperate fervor driving his every movement. Suddenly, he arches you back, pulling you up onto your knees so you’re leaned back against him. One arm securely wrapping around your middle, Gale continues to pound up into you. All words muted down to whines and grunts and moans. 

It doesn’t take long, not with how needy you both are, for you to cum around Gale’s cock, seeing stars when he pulls you down harshly against him. 

The two of you are left panting, your head leaned back, resting on Gale’s shoulder. His face coming to rest in the crook of your neck.

“Gods,” Gale breathes first, hands smoothing over your skin. “You look divine.” 

“I can barely think,” you grumble, tilting your head to press against his. “How are you still talking?” 

“You like when I talk.”

“I do.”

“Mn…” 

“I didn’t… think to…” 

“It’s fine.” You say, shaking your head. “I have a contraceptive ward.” 

“Oh thank gods.” Gale breathes. “It’s a bit too early to be talking about children.” 

“You mean after we fucked in my office after a fight?” 

“I do.” 

You laugh softly, relaxing into Gale’s touch a moment longer.

“We should get dressed,” you say softly. One hand coming up to play with Gale’s hair. “Actually… talk later.” 

“I know,” Gale nods pressing another kiss to your neck. “But do we really have to? Get dressed I mean.”

“Don’t do that,” you warn, drawing a groan from Gale when you involuntarily clench around him. “Or we’ll be here a lot longer.” 

“Mmmn… is that such a bad thing?” He asks, and you can practically feel the smile on his lips as he presses another kiss to your shoulder. “I quite like having you… so docile. In comparison.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” you warn softly, a smile on your lips. “But… if we get dressed, we can leave. Go to a real bed.” 

That gets Gale moving, even if it is reluctantly. His hands smoothing over your skin one last time before he pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants. You swallow thickly at the feeling, and Gale helps you step into your underwear and pants. Pulling your shirt over your head, and helping you fix your hair so that you don’t look quite so fucked out. 

“You know,” Gale hums softly, pressing a kiss to your ear. “We could always teleport to my tower. It’s a bit of an… irresponsible use of the planeshift spell, I must admit. But… I do have a rather large bed.” 

You hum, as though pretending to think. 

“I could be convinced,” you drawl teasingly. “For another kiss?”

Gale chuckles, and you smirk against his lips that are already on yours. 

“How could I possibly refuse that?” 

[dumbandpoetics]

this is the first and last time i'm addressing anything that has to do with this situation.

but this is insane. this is fucking INSANE. i am begging some of you to log off and touch grass. PLEASE. this is not healthy, it's deranged behavior, and quite frankly, dangerous. let go of the parasocial relationship you have with this man. talking 'bout "you're so butthurt" bruh, you will never have a chance with him, he doesn't know you and he NEVER will. it's time to accept the fact that joe burrow is not the man you all paint him in your delusional fantasies to be. he is a grown man pushing 30 and can do whatever the fuck he pleases.

sometimes long-term serious relationships don't last and that's another thing you all need to accept. sometimes two people in those long-term relationships want different things for themselves, sometimes things just don't work anymore. it happens, that's life. long-term relationships don't always have to end in marriage. they could have ended things amicably for all we know. we have absolutely no idea how or why joe and olivia h broke up, but frankly, that's not our business and never has been/never will be. creating theories in your mind as to what happened is so far out of touch from reality. and you all wonder why joe is such a private fucking person to begin with? it's because of people like Y'ALL.

then, the actual audacity to assume a criminal act was staged just for someone to gain publicity is the most delusional shit i have ever heard. someone could have been seriously hurt and YOU'RE MORE WORRIED ABOUT SOMEONE WANTING ATTENTION??? DO YOU NOT REALIZE HOW FUCKING INSANE YOU SOUND????? you should be glad that no one was home when it happened and that nobody was seriously hurt. the last thing on your mind should be who the fucking girl was.

oh, also, one more thing. your "bad joke" about joe wanting lesbians is disgusting and not funny. you could've kept that to yourself. supposed "jokes" like that is exactly why us bi/pan people can never fucking live in peace because we're constantly under a microscope of "well are you gay or straight, you can't like both at the same time." disgusting.

anyways, i'm done. i'm blocking anyone in his tag that only cares about gossiping about his personal life. all of you should be ashamed of yourselves. i hope joe and anyone else who were affected by this are doing okay. <3

[joe-kewl]

any enlightened stance on the ol election, joey?

Apologies for coming back to this so late.

You simply would not believe the shit that has transpired to me in the last 2 weeks.

Anyway, I don't know what I *could* say that hasn't been said already.

https://whyharrislost.com/

This little thing, from a clearly disillusioned leftist is very long and thorough (and mostly correct), is composed of almost all valid points, but because of what they DON'T see or acknoledge, and of course the mention of a symbolic gesture to making Kamala president at the end, it is still wrong.

It comes down to a simple fact. The Left has not figured out, and maybe cannot figure out, how wrong they are. How delusional, irrational, cultlike, and out of touch they are. And they are so broke that they cannot course correct and self reflect on this HISTORIC loss.

You lost every fucking swing state, the House, the Senate, Congress, even the popular vote. The Blue Wall wasn't broken like 2016 it was fucking *run over without even slowing down the vehicle.* The Wall was a *speed bump* at best.

America hate hate hate hate HATES DEI, absolutely despises the whole "istphobe" bludgeon, and hates Kamala as a representation of the DEI party. They fucking hate pretentious knownothings like Hasan and Vaush telling them they're stupid for not agreeing when those mouth breathing retards say some of the stupidest takes, even non political ones, to ever be uttered. They hate working more than they have in living memory and being poorer than they've ever known, and to be told by these people "erm ackshually you are wrong, uneducated plebian." They despise how the quality of entertainment has sharply dropped in the last 8 years, but exponentially in the last 4. People hate the movies and TV now. It's all crap. I have boomer coworkers that have given up on them both and have picked up fucking hobbies. You can distract the public with bread and circuses, but the bread got too expensive and the circuses stopped being entertaining, and that is the left's fault.

And rather than realize maybe we're out of touch at best and the bad guys at worst, they octuple down (because they've already doubled down on the double down) and say they need to start targeting X/Twitter to reinstate Pre-Elon style running (you know when the sight was a crazy woke hellhole of constant propaganda and censorship. And pedophilia.) As well as get their own Joe Rogan and media networks. Oh you mean like MSNBC, CNN, ABC, even Fox who used to be counter to those and the BBC who aren't even American, and having so so so FUCKING MANY leftist Podcasters that you can just go to the Politics category, close your eyes and blindly click and you'll likely get a leftist lens Podcast. You fuckers are delusional and you just don't get that people are sick of you. You're wrong about fucking everything, and reality is stronger than ideology.

By all means, make that gesture. Have Joe step down and make Kamala the shortest running President. A literal month and a half. Do it. I hope they do. I hope the first female president is one who embodies DEI. Didn't Earn It. Make it so caustic that no one will ever look at the title seriously ever again. Make Kamala Harris the absolute laughingstock of presidential history. Who was president for a month and purely symbolic. Watch as historians don't even acknowledge her or count her in the numerical list. The 50th president will be not counting Kamala. **Fucking do it.**

You will secure loss upon loss forever, and I hope you do because you deserve to lose for your tyrannical fascist behavior in pushing gay race communism. Intersectional feminism, critical race theory, and gender queer theory, the 3 magic principles of Wokeness that compose the Rot that has infested all of the West and made it rapidly decay.

Almost all of this person's points are valid about Harris' campaign. But it doesn't matter, because they can't identify the core issue. You counted the branches, but you can't point at the tree they grow from. Wokeness itself is the enemy. The left is the party of wokeness. It will not divorce itself. It will lose and it deserves to lose.

As long as the left is the party of Gay Race Communism, it will remain steadfast in its tenets to diversity over merit, and that means it WILL NOT stop with the racism/sexism/homophobia pushing.

And it will lose, and it deserves to lose.

Something the poster doesn't want to acknowledge is how utterly caustic the Trans argument became.

People are mostly willing to let adult people transition. People are not willing to let their children get transitioned, especially without their consent. And then when you don't seperate the transitioned and they just settle in with the opposite gender like nothing the inevitable discomfort of biological reality sets in. Women athletes were robbed of awards on the altar of diversity and inclusion. Women going to the bathroom or locker room felt violated and only one side was willing to hear their pleas.

And another thing they don't acknowledge is the illegal immigration. Or gun control. And crime, which is a result of the first two. More vectors the left utterly lost. And deserved to lose.

So, you now have lost a bulk of Women voters who are normal and want to be safe and have families instead of crazy wine aunt spinsters committed to the party.

Congratulations, the Republicans have turned deportation into a women's safety issue, along with gun control. The feminist women's rights party will silence women if they were raped or killed by a migrant. Off they go to the gun toting Republicans.

How about the Israel-Palestine debacle? Well, just like Just Stop Oil, people had a sympathetic ear until activists were so fucking obnoxious and destructive and disruptive that any sympathy was destroyed, and at this point even people who were sympathetic to Gaza a year ago, I've heard them say "I hope Trump drops a Nuke on them and turns it into a giant glass dune." Cause. You know. Sand turns to glass in high heat. Do you understand that you are so grossly unsympathetic and immature and *HATEABLE* that people who were nuanced or wanted peace treaties are now actively pro-genocide for real simply because they want you to lose? Do you realize just how absurdly unlikeable you have to act to get to that point? "I hope everyone you support gets wiped out in a flash just so you'll shut the fuck up forever" and you still think you're not the problem?

In the last 4 years the left have had unparalleled position in the levers of power, a blank slate for their agenda. And what have they done with it? Make life worse on all fronts. It's kind of incredible how not a single thing they've pushed for has resulted in any improvement. It's just literally worse for all people. They've proven that it's somehow possible to make a regime so fucking broken that they turned Trump's 2016 presidency with America on an upward turn to even worse than the lowest depths of Obama and Carter's eras. That takes dedication to being wrong about literally everything. It's no wonder so many people think the left isn't incompetent but genuinely evil, with a batting average that consistent. After all, in order to get EVERY answer wrong, you have to know all the RIGHT answers. Thank you for that life lesson, Spiderverse, it's a surprisingly profound one. If they were incompetent they would at least *accidentally* do a couple things right.

So. Where are we now? We are now at a state in which the American people have wholesale rejected the progressive ideology. A hard, full stop. We haven't seen a preference cascade reversal like this in decades. Everything is too expensive, there is nothing good to watch because it's all woke crap, crime is up, my community is being invaded by foreigners, my employers would rather hire them and pay them pennies than employ me and give me an actual wage (so much for the left being the party of the middle class. I saw lifelong blue collar blue voters go full scorched earth on the Dems in the last few years), I can't afford a house because I can't make enough money between taxes, grocery inflation, and the demand of housing for foreign migrants choking the supply, so even hard working successful adults with degrees and trade school certifications are now equivalent to NEETS in their parent's basement, my superior isn't someone who knows what they're doing but an incompetent diversity hire who got pushed up instead of me because I'm a white person, the list goes on and on and on, in an endless death spiral of trying not to drown as the water level keeps rising no matter how hard you push. One of these things is gonna give and its gonna be the person, cause the water sure ain't.

How does the left fix this?

The left can't fix itself. Gay race communism is too sacred to it at this point. It is no longer just a branch but the core philosophy, like Fascism and government control. It is literally part of the ethos now. It can't be tweaked because it has fully absorbed it, and the two are now one. Like a Symbiote ingrained into your actual vital organs and becoming as one with the host.

It deserves to lose. It's made the lives of Americans a living nightmare. Americans, Europeans, Canadians, literally everywhere they go they make things worse.

They will not learn the lessons to correct this because they are too far gone. And they deserve to lose. They will continue to lose, and they deserve to continue to lose.

Enough is enough. You deserve to not just lose it all, but to never be taken seriously ever again. You deserve to be exiled from authority and influence, and anyone who says a woke talking point ever again to be ridiculed out of their position.

[jeonscatalyst]

What the fuck did I just see? Someone's middle-aged mother is literally fighting for her life in the comments section of a TikTok video saying the pic of JK with Jimin's name on his chest is fake and was done by "Jokers" and that she luckily has money and bought the photobook and there's absolutely NOTHING on JK's chest. I have the photobook by the way, and the "Jimin" is right there🤦🏻‍♀

ARMYs who aren't shippers are telling her they bought the photobooks and Jimin's name is 100% there and this Señora is literally like "nope". She's not accepting a thing. It's all "Jokers can't fool us." And the reposts on her account is all theories and "analyses" about Hybe villainizing Tae, Jimin being a liar and making up stories about him and JK, JK putting that orange pillow between him and Jimin to establish boundaries so he doesn't get too close, too touchy. And about how Tae was there behind-the-scenes and how JK was making signs with his hands to tell him he loves him.

I literally never thought it was possible for some people to be so out of touch with reality while appearing normal asf, until I came to know about Taekookers

I'm not ageist and I don't believe it's weird that older people are shipping (the way I see most people say) but this is how it's fucking weird, for people for any age

Some of y'all seriously need to fetch your mothers, try and check what they get up to on the socials or something🤦🏻‍♀. My biggest fear is finding out that my 50 year old mother is writing delusional stuff about her favorite gay couple being hidden by another gay couple and hating on one of those guys for separating her faves.

You know what I recently discovered? Middle aged and older shippers tend to be more delusional than younger ones. This is because younger fans tend to know how to navigate and find real content to watch and get the right information but the older fans don’t and this is not necessarily to say they aren’t tech savvy or none of that but the older ones are just more naive and easier to decieve that young fans who know how fandoms work and how easy it is for people to get manipulated by edits and wrong information.

Most of these kinds of shippers frequent youtube, tiktok and instagram to get their information about the members and ships so what do you expect when all those places are filled with edited videos which intentionally twist things or leave out context? I’m pretty sure that lady didn’t actually buy the photo book but probably just saw other tkkrs posting that tiktok where someone did an unboxing of the photo book. Looking at things from there, it doesn’t look like there is anything on Jk’s chest because you have to zoom in to see. Tkkrs ofcourse don’t want there to be a picture of Jk in the photobook with Jimin’s name on his chest so if there is anything that can “prove” that it was an edit, they would happily jump at it.

[murdererofthumbs]

Seeing reactions after this episode is actually slightly hysterical? It proves that this fandom can be so blind-sighted by characters relations, that they forget what show they are watching. Like, I have always been a self-proclaimed Roman-girl, because I find him compelling and extremely psychologically interesting, and like all of these characters, to a certain extent, I do empathise with him on the level of trauma that he went through. But why the fuck are people surprised that THIS is how he behaved in this episode is beyond me. Oh, suddenly Roman is dead to you because he behaved in the way that was very much consistent with who he is? That’s who all of these people are, like come on, what do we think we are watching here? You didn’t really think he will suddenly become a defender of democracy because it serves a greater good of the country? He was the one to fucking choose Mencken as a president, he cherry-picked him for Logan, because he knew that their views align, that Mencken will be a smart business decision. This whole thing is a transactional procedure - they needed to get someone who will be willing to serve their corrupt interests. Roman doesn’t see a problem in having fascist as a president, because he will never be touched by the consequences of having that kind of man in power. He is very much safe at the top of the mountain, and who the fuck cares what will happen to the peasants at the bottom of the chain? In this way, he imitates Logan the most, because in the end of the day, people are units to him, to all of them really, some of them are just more willing to admit this than others.

Also, like, “uuu, Roman was such a misogynist to Shiv this episode, he just didn’t listen to her at all”. Look, can we stop being delusional here for a second or is it some sort of selective memory situation? Roman is a misogynist. Kendall is a misogynist. Shiv, in fact, has a lot of internalised misogyny going on, and her being a woman never stopped her from pushing other women under the fucking bus, so let’s be real here for a second. And that is not to be said in defence of Roman, frankly nothing what I’m saying here is supposed to justify his behaviour in this or any other episode, but it’s more of like… reality check? I know that Roman’s self-destructive spiral and semi-decent behaviour at the beginning of this season might have clouded certain aspects of who he is, but please, go back to season 3 and count all the instances of him throwing misogynistic and, frequently incestuous jokes and innuendo, at Shiv? How many times he undermines her position on the basis of her being a woman? Or how Kendall, for that matter, uses similar arguments in 03x02? All the siblings use aspects of each other as weapons. Kendall is undermined because he is unstable, because he is a drug-addict, because he has a tendency of flying off on the cloud of mania, and crashing in the heap of depression. Shiv is crossed out because she is a woman, because she frankly has no real experience in the firm (which, although people might be super angry about that, because she is such a “girlboss” apparently, but this is a factual argument), because of her relationship to Tom and tendency to take several sides at the same time (with not much thought put into it). And Roman is frequently undermined because he is a freak and a pervert, because “there is something wrong with him”, because he is the weakest dog that is most easily manipulated, who crumples like a wet tissue if only to receive a bit of affection. They all weaponise their “weak” points against each other, because this dog-eats-dog mindset is focal to who they are as a family, to how they were brought up, to how Logan wanted them to be. So please, let’s not be surprised, when Roman suddenly uses misogyny as an argument against Shiv, because it’s not sudden at all, and it’s always been there.

I think what we have on our hands, is the same situation we had in 03x07 during Kendall’s birthday (and previous episode with Mencken), where some people are so outraged by Roman, and by his ability to shove the knife where it hurts, that they suddenly cross him out completely. Again, all these characters are bad people, there was never any doubt about that. They are compelling because of the complexities of their familial relationships, because of their childhood trauma and the consequences that this trauma has on them as adults. But they are still completely reprehensible as human beings, and I think some viewers forget about that and then get outraged when show about awful people features awful people. And I’m sure, either in next or final episode, something will happen and Roman will become sympathetic again, and he will regain his position as a “poor meow meow”, just as he did in the finale of season 3. Its always a fucking carousel with this character and people get sucked in and have their eye’s covered just to realise that nothing really changed, and nothing will change, because in this show people, at their core, remain the same.

[marksbear]

How about sub yandere Steven who day dreams about reader and wants to be close to him. So how about they co workers and reader keeps losing stuff buts it just Steven taking them and keeping for himself. But reader notices that Steven use the same cologne as him but in reality Steven sprays it on his bed and fucks himself to the smell of him. And this leads them to talking and reader asks if they want to get dinner some day. Steven says yes and is so excited to hang out with reader so he then gets ready to hang with him. They had a great time but then Steven runs into Donna and pulls reader aside because he doesn't want to deal with her on his unofficial date with reader. But it leads to Steven ass on readers dick and he trys to subtle move trying to get as much friction as he can and reader notices and asks if they want to go to his house real quick. They go and steven immediately apologizes but reader says that he has liked him for quite some time. It's leads to Steven sucking reader off and saying how much he has been in love with him and reader fucks Steven and he says to promise reader to never leave him while running his nails down his back to really make sure this is real and to have a reminder of him and he doesn't want to stop.-🐻‍❄️

One of my favorite things to write. Steven and yanderes so I hope you enjoy! Took me a while to post this since I have been trying/ failing to walk with a few successes!

Warnings! stalker Steven, stealing, scent kink, delusional yandere Steven, SMUT, toys mentioned, y/n loves kids, creepy Steven. clingy Steven and possessive Steven.

SUB YANDERE STEVEN GRANT X MALE READER

Steven stares at his new co-worker across the museum. Y/n L/n. He was the new tour guide. He mostly works with the children and sometimes with the elderly folk.

Even though Y/n only been working for a few weeks Steven felt like he knew Y/n for years. He stalked learned almost everything about him. Like what's his favorite animal, food, color, holiday and almost anything that a boyfriend co-worker should know.

He knew that Y/n loved children with all his heart. He saw him a couple times when schools would visit the museum he saw Y/n give a few kids some money if they couldn't afford something or sneak them a few toys from the gift shop. So naturally Steven started to dream and imagine starting a family with Y/n. To one kid even to seven. Really depends on how much kids Y/n wanted.

Steven wanted everything to do with his new co-worker. Even changing his hours to match Y/n's.

One time Y/n had left one of his hoodies in the break room by accident. It was one of the hoodies Y/n would always wear if it was cold or chilly. So once Steven saw it laying on the back of the chairs he had to take it. He stuffed it deep inside his bag and clocked out early rushing back to his apartment. Once he was in his apartment he held the hoodie close to him laying on the bed taking deep breaths into it inhaling Y/n's sent as he touches himself.

That's when he started to take Y/n's things. Like pins he used, clothes like jackets and even extra shirts Y/n took to work, hats and etc.

But once he founded the cologne that Y/n used he was over the moon. He sprayed the clothes that were yours he took to smell like you even more. To the point almost his whole apartment smelled like Y/n and he loved it. Steven would spray a pillow or the sheets of his bed and either ride the pillow while inhaling the smelling imaging it was you he was riding or the dildo he bought that he guessed would be about your size and fucks himself with the toy while smelling one of your hoodies.

So all of that leads to now.

The week at the museum was gonna be busier than ever. Multiple tourists coming down to see the museum as well as multiple school districts coming down also. So almost every single worker was gonna be working today.

Steven and Y/n were in the back rooms unboxing new packages and sorting things out. The two were mostly quiet and just wanted to get the task over with until Y/n gets close enough to Steven noticing the same cologne brand he's currently wearing.

"Thought I was the only guy in the world to use that brand of cologne." Y/n points out catching Steven's attention. Steven begins to freak out in his mind that you knew everything he has done and opens his mouth to explain himself. "I always knew hot guys like us wear this brand." Y/n says playfully before leaning on one of the boxes.

"Ye-yeah! only guys like us..." Steven responds back pathetically with nervousness full in his tone.

"Y'know Steven. You're the only worker I didn't have dinner with already. Don't get the wrong idea that i'm a manwhore or something. I just wanted to get to know all of you and you're the only man left." Y/n tells him before adding. "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me?"

"A-Are you asking me out on a date?" Steven asks with excitement. "I mean it can be. It can be a date or a simple hangout really depends on you." Y/n answers the question before giving his number to Steven as Steven does the same.

"See you later! I can hear the kids calling my name." Y/n tells him before giving Steven one last small smile before leaving the room.

TIMESKIP. Days later after the dinner since I'm a bit lazy.

As the two leave the restaurant it's nothing but quiet. Laughter and jokes filled their presence as they walked around town.

Everything is going great until Steven sees his asshole of a boss walking up to him. Steven begins to panic from the fear that Donna would mess up their "date" Steven begins to think about solutions, but nothing good comes to mind and he just pulls Y/n aside standing in front of him ass against Y/n's crotch. Steven couldn't help but blush madly when he felt Y/n's cock against him.

Donna and Steven exchange boring and short conversations. Steven tries to hurry up the topic so she can leave him alone. But Steven couldn't help himself and grinds his ass onto Y/n's cock pushing against him. Steven prays into his mind that Y/n couldn't notice anything, but much to Steven's dismay he feels Y/n's dick become slowly hard and pushes against Steven's ass right back.

After Donna leaves Steven tries to move away from Y/n from embarrassment but gets stopped by Y/n's arm around his waist trapping him against him. "Let's go to my house real quick." Y/n says before pulling his arm away walking to the direction of his house as Steven quickly follows behind.

Once they reach the house and get inside Steven begins to apologize. "I'm sorry Y/n. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry." Steven apologizes putting his head down embarrassment.

"Don't be. I liked you for some time now Steven. Really I don't mind it at all." Y/n says waving off Steven's apology before cupping Steven's face with his hands before pulling him in for a deep kiss.

The two makeout and grind onto each other's hands moving around on the other body as Y/n guides Steven to the bedroom. Once they pull away from the kiss Y/n sits on the bed as Steven immediately sinks down to his knees. Steven tug and pull on Y/n's belt before taking it off and pulling down his pants alongside his boxers in the process. "So...Big." Steven blurts out it awe staring up at Y/n's hard cock. Steven gives Y/n's cock a few small kisses before trailing up making sure each spot has been kissed before giving the tip a big kiss before sliding the tip inside his mouth. Steven moves his tongue around the tip licking every single spot before sucking on it. Steven uses his free hands to pull his own pants and underwear off before slowly prepping himself.

Steven begins to bob his head up and down on Y/n's cock breathing with his nose as he looks up at Y/n making eye-contact. "Stop being so shy Steven. Go down deeper." Y/n tells him putting his hands on both sides of Steven's head messing with his hair and massaging his head.

Steven doesn't get told twice as he goes down deeper onto Y/n's cock gagging and choking as he does it. Stevens eyes begin to water feeling Y/n's cock hit the back of his throat. "Only a few more left baby. You're doing so well." Y/n coo's letting Steven go down at his own pace.

Finally Steven reaches the base and tries to pull back up, but gets pulled right back down by Y/n. Y/n grips Steven's hair pulling him up and down fucking Steven's throat.

Steven gags and cries on Y/n's cock becoming desperate for air. Y/n pulls Steven up letting him breathe. Steven gasps for air tears running down his face as he fingers himself faster. "Again...Do it again." Steven weakly asks looking at Y/n with tearing eyes. Y/n lets out a stiff laugh before opening Steven's mouth wide with his fingers before moving them out of the way in one swift motion he pushes Steven's head down onto his cock catching Steven off guard.

"Watch the teeth baby." Y/n says moving Steven's head back and forth. Steven begins to hollow his cheeks and uses his tongue more. Steven feels Y/n's cock twitch inside his mouth, so he looks up at Y/n listening to his moans. Y/n throws his head back in pleasure feeling his orgasm nearing.

Steven desperately wants to taste Y/n he begins to focus more on sucking him. "Stev-Steven! I'm about to cum! I'm goin to c-cum! Fuck!" Y/n warns letting go of Steven's head and putting them on the bed to stabilize himself. Steven bobs his head up and down even faster. "I'm cumming! oh fUck I-I'm cumming!" Y/n moans out closing his eyes shut as he cums deep inside Steven's throat.

Steven chokes from trying to swallow it all at once. He pulls his head away from Y/n's cock swallowing whatever cum he has in his mouth before going back to Y/n's cock sucking out the rest of it before licking his cock clean.

"Jesus Steven." Y/n says breathing heaving as he tries to calm himself down after the intense orgasm he had. Steven finally pulls away from Y/n's cock before scrambling himself up straddling Y/n's waist. "I love you!" Steven blurts out catching Y/n a bit taken back. "I'm in love with you Y/n. I- I think we are made for each other and I know that we have to be soulmates." Steven confesses not even caring about the way Y/n is looking at him crazy. "I've loved you since I first saw you. Since the moment you started working,"

Y/n thinks back when Steven first saw him was when he stole some candy and toys for a kid when he thought no one was looking. After Y/n gave it to the kid and looked up to make sure no one saw him he met Steven's eyes glued on him.

"Really?" Y/n asks in total confusion. Y/n only had confessed to him hours ago and heres Steven confessing his love for him.

Y/n puts his hands on Steven's hips moving him off of his lap and onto the bed moving his thighs to a side before crawling between them lining up his cock at Steven's entrance.

Y/n decides to waste no time and thrust himself fully into Steven causing a loud moan from Steven. Y/n thrust were at a steady pace not to slow or fast just wanting Steven to get used to his size. "He's way bigger than the toy..." Steven thought to himself while moaning helplessly holding onto Y/n for dear life. Steven runs his hands and nails on Y/n's back scratching it a few times. He wanted to make sure this wasn't something he was daydreaming about.

Y/n L/n the man that he loved too much. The man of his dreams was actually inside him, kissing him, hearing him and near him was real. Steven was in pure bliss as Y/n rocks his hips back and forth into him at a harsh pace abusing his hole. Steven lets out loud gasp every time Y/n cock grazes his prostate. The toy he used so very often wasn't as big and deep inside him like the real the thing. Steven couldn't believe it himself that he was getting dicked down by the man of his dreams.

Steven buries his face into the crook of Y/n's neck inhaling his scent and becoming enhanced by it. He wanted this to never stop. Y/n holds Steven's hips still as he fucks him merciless. Y/n bit down onto Steven's shoulder giving him a hickey earning a gasp from Steven. To Steven that meant that Y/n was claiming him. That Y/n was marking his territory.

Steven was so deep inside his thoughts not even noticing that he came all over himself and Y/n. Steven moves his hands to Y/n's face cupping his cheeks with his hands catching Y/n a bit off guard. "Promise that you'll never leave me." Steven says looking into Y/n's eyes. Y/n hesitates before responding "I promise. That I won't leave you." Steven smiles ear to ear once he hears the words fall out of Y/n's mouth. Y/n goes back into fucking Steven abusing his lower half like its nothing.

With a few more thrust Y/n cums deep inside Steven while kissing Steven deeply as his thrust slows down and becomes softer. "You came inside?" Steven says out loud with joy in his tone. In Steven's mind since you came inside him it has to mean that you want kids with him and to get married! "Yeah I did. Sorry if that's a problem." Y/n says about to pull out but Steven stops him by wrapping his legs around Y/n's waist. "No! D-don't pull out. I love you being inside me. W-wait I mean I just love you in general not just your dick!" Steven blurts out panicking a little thinking that he gave Y/n the wrong idea.

Y/n lays down on the bed and moves Steven on top of him cuddling him. Steven lays his head down on Y/n's chest while wrapping his arms and legs around Y/n's body keeping him in a tight hold.

"I love you Y/n. I love you so much. I think we should never be apart never ever apart. We're going to get married then start a family!" Steven says looking up at Y/n with bright eyes.

Y/n looks down at Steven thinking to himself. "What the fuck did I get into."

THE END!

[unreliablesnake]

Animals - bonus chapter

Summary: Soap wants answers, Ghost hallucinates in his cell.

Note: This is a short word vomit. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: mentions of death and rape.

Soap was having a hard time accepting the truth, but things got painfully real when he was attending your modest funeral with Price and Gaz. After everything he had done to keep you safe, you got murdered when he wasn’t around. He should have asked Price to let him stay behind with you, he should have stood his ground and convinced his boss that this was for the best.

But it was easy to be smart in retrospect. Neither of them could have known how far Ghost was willing to go. No one expected him to end things like this. But he killed you, and now he was about to pay for his actions, hopefully spending the rest of his life in prison.

But this wasn't enough for Soap. He needed answers, he had to know why the lieutenant did what he did. What in the hell could make him hurt you this way, torturing you with months of stalking and harassment?

So he decided to give the man a visit in prison, hoping he would tell him the truth. A part of him was certain he would get nothing from him, but that was okay. It was still worth a try.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ghost asked once he saw who the mysterious visitor was.

“I just want answers.”

“Take a number,” came the short response.

“Ghost, I’m serious,” Soap tried. “Why did you have to kill her?”

“She asked for help as if she was in trouble.”

“She was in trouble,” the sergeant pointed out.

“You have to know that I never wanted this to happen. I loved her, and she loved me.” Ghost added, surprising Soap.

He had a hard time believing the lieutenant was this delusional, that he truly believed it was true. “You fucker! She was terrified of you,” he said angrily, barely able to manage his anger.

Ghost thought about what he had just heard. “That doesn’t change how I feel. She was the best thing in my life.”

“So what? If you can't have her–”

“No, it's not like that,” he interrupted the younger man with a growl. “I just wanted her to stay with me. We were so good together.”

“Jesus, you're out of your fucking mind,” Soap said, unable to hold back a desperate laugh. This was insane, he was insane. How in the hell could that happen? How didn't they notice that he was so out of touch with reality?

Ghost leaned forward as he said his next words. “Why? Because I wanted to make her see that we belonged together? Because I wanted her to feel loved and satisfied? You should have seen the way she enjoyed the last time we were together.”

“When you tied her up, gagged her, then raped her? You sick son of a bitch. I'm sure she didn't enjoy that.”

“Her body surely did,” he said with a shrug.

“I hope you'll rot in hell, Ghost,” Soap told him before standing up and turning to leave.

“Already leaving?”

The sergeant looked back and leaned closer, almost bearing his teeth. “There's nothing left to talk about.”

The worst part is that Ghost genuinely didn't understand how they couldn't see his side of the events. He just wanted the best for you, showing you where you truly belonged. It's not his fault that you didn't want to accept the truth, that you should have been together.

Once he was taken back to his cell that he occupied alone, he laid down on the bed and looked at the ceiling. He wondered how long he would be locked up here, and if he even had a chance of being let go in the end.

“You didn't do anything wrong,” he heard your sweet voice suddenly.

When he turned his head, he saw you standing there with your back against the wall, arms folded over your chest. “I know, love, but they keep saying I did,” he said.

With a sigh, you walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look, they'll understand that you had no choice. I was stupid for not realizing you only wanted the best for me.”

“Don't blame yourself.” You flashed a smile at him at this. “I miss you so much,” he told you, raising his hand as if he was about to reach out and run his fingers down your cheek.

But it couldn't happen. He knew you were dead, he knew he was the one who killed you, but despite all of this you were still here with him, providing the support he needed so much now. If you were still alive and over what had happened between you, you would be just as kind, eventually realizing that he was right about the two of you.

“I’ll never leave you, Simon. I promise,” you added with a smile.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Walk with me limit to your love by James Blake so much angst 🌞

Limit to your love - (ellie williams x reader)

Hi anon, you are so right! This song contains so much in it! I hope you enjoy<3

This story is based off the song Limit to your love by James Blake, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading. Also this story is my interpretation of the song, so bear with me......

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

Requests are always open, feel free to leave one, or just send me a song and I'll go from there:)

Warnings: Cheating

Summary; In which you got your heart broken

wc: 1.5k

There's a limit to your love

Like a waterfall in slow motion

Like a map with no ocean

There's a limit to your love

Your love, your love, your love (your love)

Why would she do this to you? How could she? Were you really that unlovable?

Questions ran through your mind as you stared at the text Ellie sent you. A text message you thought you would never receive from her. The simple text that read: “I’m sorry about everything. Can we please talk?”

Sorry? What could she be sorry for? For leading you on? For lying to you? For manipulating you? For breaking your fucking heart?

Ellie has always been a smart girl. She always knew how to get herself out of situations. Whatever Ellie did, she always had a plan. An agenda with whatever she did. Ellie wouldn’t be sending you a I’m sorry text without having a plan. What the fuck did she want?

You met Ellie through a mutual friend’s birthday party.

You thought she pretty, she said you were pretty. You were so fucking stupid. You believed her. You thought someone like Ellie would be interested in you.

The two of you exchanged numbers and Ellie quickly asked you to be her girlfriend. You were happier than you had ever been with anyone. But the longer you and Ellie stayed together, the more red flags appeared.

Ellie begged you to keep your relationship private, you couldn’t even tell your best friend.

‘Maybe she just likes keeping her private life, private’ you used to say.

Making excuses for Ellie’s mistakes became something you did often. For every little thing Ellie did you always had a reason readily available. That one time she ditched you on your birthday to hang out with another girl, you to think it was an old friend of Ellie. She ditched you because she hadn’t seen her friend in years but little did you know, as you lay there crying, Ellie was tongue fucking her in bathroom of the club. You smelled someone else’s perfume on her that night, but chose to believe it was just because Ellie and her friend hugged a lot.

Around both your friends Ellie wouldn’t even look at you. She couldn’t stand you. She would talk about you as if you weren’t there. You didn’t exist in Ellie’s world.

“Are you guys close?” Jesse asked one night.

“no we’re not” Ellie quickly replied “she’s just a random girl I tolerate” she laughed. You laughed it off. But it hurt. It made you feel like shit. It made you look desperate. It was humiliating.

Confronting Ellie was never an option. Ellie would always say “don’t you trust me?” “I said that to make them think we aren’t together” “baby you know I didn’t mean it”

If she didn’t mean it then why did it hurt so much? Why did she always have an insult to hurl at you?

You chose to ignore the reality. You chose to be delusional and trust that someone like Ellie Williams would ever love you.

During your entire relationship with Ellie there was always something missing. A waterfall that falls in slow motion isn’t really a waterfall. A relationship that has something missing isn’t really a relationship. A waterfall without water makes it completely useless. A relationship without love makes it useless.

Whenever she held you, kissed you or muttered the words “I love you”, it never felt genuine. It never felt real.

The butterflies Dina described every time Jesse just touched her, made you envy their relationship. They looked so happy. It looked real.

 Every time Ellie touched you, it felt forced. You always looked at her facial expression when she hugged you, when she touched you, her would contort into a face of disgust.

You always thought you were dirty, scrubbing your skin till you almost bled before you saw Ellie. Hoping that maybe if you bathed properly that she would finally look at you with love. That she would look at you the way Jesse looks at Dina. But you were never dirty. You were never the problem.

The problem has always been Ellie.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you realized your relationship with Ellie was one sided. She’d forget anniversaries, she’s flirt with other in front of you because you guys weren’t together in public. You were never a priority.

She didn’t fucking love you. She never did. And she never will.

The day you realized Ellie felt nothing for you was the day you went through her phone. It was a normal Friday night where you would go to Ellie’s apartment for a sleepover. Ellie was in the shower when her phone rang, you heard her scream: “baby who’s calling?”.

You picked up her phone frowning when you saw the name Vicky appear. Her contact name was decorated with hearts.

Why were there hearts? Not even your name had hearts. Ellie didn’t even have your number saved.

“It just Joel” you lied.

You quickly unlocked Ellie’s phone, knowing her password as you usually watched her fingers as they move across the screen. As soon as the phone opened you were met with a chat between Ellie and someone else.

The chat contained nudes. Dirty chats. Ellie was being affectionate. Ellie isn’t even nice to you.

Your eyes roamed on the screen, till it landed on a specific text message that Ellie had sent:

“I love you” Ellie rarely said it to you.

You looked up to the top of the screen seeing its Vicky.

What the fuck

Ellie was cheating on you. And it seemed like she was actually in love.

You didn’t matter. You never fucking did.

With teary eyes, you put off Ellie’s phone as you quietly got off the bed, collecting all the things you’ve kept in her apartment for the last 11 months that you’ve been together. You quietly made your way to the front door, and you walked out. You didn’t look back.

You left Ellie Williams that day. And sometimes you wish you did it sooner.

There's a limit to you care

So carelessly there

Is it truth or dare?

There's a limit to your care

How could someone be so cruel? How could make someone fall in love with you only to break their heart into a million pieces? Who would ever deserve such a thing?

The same way religious people would say, that Jesus didn’t deserve to die on the cross for all our sins, the same way you didn’t deserve to be hurt by Ellie. The girl you thought would change your life.

You haven’t heard back from Ellie since that day you walked out. It’s been months. 7 months to be exact.

Ellie never texted you again. She never asked you why you left. Even when all your friends would meet up, Ellie would pretend that you weren’t there. And it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Like your heart was being ripped out of your chest and being stabbed over and over again by the same person.

Ellie soon introduced Vicky to everyone. The two of you were almost together for a year and Ellie couldn’t even utter your name, but she could publicly make out with Vicky. It’s funny to think that Ellie was the girl you imagined a future with.

One night you and friends decided to play a quick game of truth and dare. Everyone went around daring each other stupid shit like licking the toilet seat and kissing the prettiest person in the room. When it was finally your turn to ask someone the question, your eyes met with Ellie’s. In this moment you could ask her. You could finally ask her if she really loved you.

Ellie could see it in your eyes. She could see what you were going to ask her and she wasn’t ready to answer that. Because even Ellie herself didn’t know if she ever did. She didn’t know why she even asked you out in the first place.

The words left your lips as the two of you made eye contact: “truth or dare?”

Without hesitation Ellie said “dare”

Fucking pussy.

After 7 months of torture Ellie finally decided to text you. You heard that Ellie and Vicky had broken up recently, so you could only assume Ellie came back because she had no one else to entertain her. Ellie was a whore, and you were pretty sure she’d find someone new soon.

Even if you wanted answers from Ellie you knew you were never going to get them. You knew Ellie would toy with you. She would make you feel bad for leaving her, and you knew she would have you begging for her within minutes.

It’s easy to fall in love, but it’s hard to fall out of love with someone. As much as you wanted to strangle Ellie and cut her tongue out for lying to you, but you knew when you would get a hold of her, you would only want to kiss her. You want her to hold you, and make you forget everything bad that has happened.

But that won’t happen again. You would make sure of that.

You didn’t deserve what Ellie had done to you. You deserve someone who could actually love you. And that person was not Ellie. It never was. The sooner you accept it, the happier you’ll be.

You knew you were never going to get the explanation you craved, you would never know why Ellie limited her love for you. You just hope that you made the right decision by not responding to her text.

Authors note: I love writing angst so much. But anyway remember my requests are always open, feel free to leave one. You are loved and remember to always be kind to one another <3

Yours truly,

Zia :)