#pill plug | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucidfairies · 12 days ago

Text

— mess around (part two)

part one

synopsis: it wasn't everyday you moved to the south, surrounded by cowboys and their women, but here you were, and your new neighbor simply couldn't get any more enticing

pairing: rancher!sevika x married housewife!reader

warnings: cheating, dom!sev, sub!reader, reader is bolder in this one, face sitting, fingering, finger sucking, size kink, back shots, breeding kink, rougher than part one(!), light bondage, sevika is a bit meaner in this one but not outside of sex, new pet names (!!!!), choking, thigh riding, cum plug

a/n: I want to make it very clear that even though pregnancy is mentioned several times, r will never get pregnant with an unwanted child or with the husband figure, it's solely for plot !

wc: 4.4k

collaboration: my biggest love and thank you to @sevsgiirl for literally leading me through this and giving me all the ideas and also reading my rough drafts lol! 🙏🙏

Sevika was obscenely tired. This was her third week running only getting two hours of sleep, tossing and turning, unable to fall back into sleep. When she did sleep, it was short and light, not sufficient enough. It was eating her alive.

There were a number of reasons - her dog had been sick for days, the horses needed a different feed schedule, she briefly had to travel up North to visit relatives, changing her time zone. But most of all, and most obviously, you.

Everything about you. Your eyes, your hips, your smell. The way your hair flicked when you walked, your smile when you greeted the neighbors, the way you knew something about everyone. You were the complete opposite of her, and it was driving her mad.

She hated you. Hated your perfection, and the blush in your cheeks. She hated the way you dressed, pretty sundresses that hardly past mid thigh, bows, and those fuck ass boots. She hated you because she needed you.

She was desperate to get you a real pair of boots, ones that weren't from some northern shop impersonating southern culture. She needed to show you off and parade you around, have you sit on her lap at the bar with her hat on while she played poker, and tell everyone that you were hers.

But that wasn't ever going to happen. You were never going to be hers, divorce was too much of a hassle for a woman like you, who probably wanted a million things she couldn't give you.

“Babe, can you come here?” Your husband called you from the kitchen. You were perched on your bed, folding the week's laundry. You stood and made your way to the kitchen, stomach twisting. Ever since your night with Sevika, your husband wanting to speak to you worried you. There's no way he found out. But what if he did?

“What's up, honey?” He beckoned you to sit down across from him at the small table, and you did. He had papers in his hand, messy scribbles covering the page.

“I wanted to have a serious conversation about kids,” he paused for a moment while his words sank in, “I asked you to stay home so that we could start our family, but you keep declining to actually start it. I can't keep you home like this if you aren't going to do anything.” You sighed.

You knew this was coming - every time he brought it up, you shut it down. Every time you slept together you had him wear protection, or you made sure you had taken the pill that morning. You couldn't identify why you didn't want to have children with him at the moment, but the feeling was there, and it was strong.

“I'm just not ready yet,” you insisted, “if you want me to go to work I can, but I do quite a bit around the house. Just because we don't have children yet doesn't mean that my work is diminished.” You stood your ground, annoyed at the constant assumption that you didn't do anything.

“Babe,” he sighed angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose while he formulated what to say, “every time we talk about this you say you're not ready. We've been married for three years, when will you be ready?” You shrugged, embarrassment getting the best of you. “You only have so many years to have kids. I can’t sit around and waste them while you figure out if you’re ready or not.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, especially because you knew them to be true. You got into this relationship and eventually this marriage knowing his intention with children, and up until recently, you thought you shared that intention. But the longer you thought about bearing his children, the more displeasing the thought became.

“We can start trying, then. But not until next week, come July.” If you had to do it, you would at least have it when you wanted to. Your husband grinned, rising from the table to give you a hug, and press a kiss to your head.

“I’m glad it’s time,” you put on your best fake smile, “I’m headed to bed. Mind cleaning up?” He waved towards the dinner dishes as he walked towards the bedroom. “See you tomorrow, my love.”

You sat in your seat at the table for a long time, simply looking at it. Sevika’s words from the night she had dinner rang in your mind like a screeching alarm - I’m a capable woman, babygirl. I can clean my own plate. She wanted to help, even after working all day. She chose to help.

Before you could choose the wiser, you were shooting up from your seat and clearing the dishes into the sink. You washed them quickly, not bothering to scrub very hard before tossing a robe over your shoulders and slipping on some shoes. Quietly, trying not to wake your husband, you peeled open the door and slipped it shut, sneaking down the steps carefully. You knew where they creaked now, you had lived here long enough for that.

There was a clunking sound and loud groan when you knocked on her door. Part of you hoped that, if you knocked softly enough, she wouldn’t hear it, or that she would be asleep. The other part of you begged to see her, even though it wasn’t right. Something about her drew you in, wrong or right.

The door flew open, and there stood Sevika in all her glory. Except, she didn’t look as if she felt glorious. There were eye bags under her eyes that made it look as if she hadn’t slept in a week, and her face was angry. Her downturned lips only frowned further at the sight of you, and you felt small, beginning to question your decision.

She must’ve noticed. Her face softened, still angry, but not as angry as before. She simply looked at you, waiting for something. “Hi Sev,” you whispered, meekly. “I don’t really know why I’m here.” You looked over your shoulder, gazing at the home that was calling you back, the husband that was asleep in the bed you shared.

“I can’t help you with that, sugar.” She said, gruffly. “When you know what you want, come and find me.” She went to close the door, but on instinct, your hand flew out to stop it.

“Can I come in?” She looked at you for a moment longer, eyes sullen and mind begging to send you back home. But she opened the door nonetheless, allowing you to step in. You had never been in Sevika’s home, but it looked just like you would think. Clean, homey, a little boring. Lots of pictures of people you didn’t recognize, aside from the ones you met at the bar.

“What can I do ya for, angel?” The name made you breathless. It effortlessly brought you back to when she had you riding her, calling you angel.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” You moved through her house slowly, taking a spot in the living room. It felt embarrassing, inviting yourself in like this, late. “Unless you’re sleeping. I understand if I woke you.” She punched out a laugh.

“I ain’t slept in weeks,” she plopped down across from you, the L shaped couch making it easy to see her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Husband doin’ you wrong?” You considered whether you should answer yes.

“We’re going to start trying for a baby,” you told her, cringing at the sentence. You could see her face drop and her eyes change, but she was quick to recover. “I’m not sure I want to.” Your gaze fell to your hands as you crossed your ankles.

“Want to try, or want to have a baby?” She clarified, brows knit as she leaned back and fell into her manspread once again.

“I guess both,” you sighed, “I don’t know if I’m ready to have a baby with him, and the trying part..” you trailed off, considering your options as to how to phrase what you wanted to convey. “When we.. did what we did, it was much more fun than when my husband and I sleep together,” a proud smirk found Sevika’s lips. “He’s very boring, he doesn’t like to try things. In out, in out.” You made a gesture with your hands and she laughed. “He’s always on top of me, it never really changes. I don’t like it.”

Sevika hummed. There were so many ways she could take this. “You don’t say,” her accent was thick this time of night. It made you wonder what she was thinking about. “So you want somethin’ rougher?” You nodded slowly, not 100% sure what ‘rougher’ meant. “Tell me, sugar, has anyone ever bent you over?”

Your eyes blew, and your lips parted. Sevika’s clit started to beat at the expression. It was perfect, she longed to frame it. “No, I don’t believe so.” She tapped her thigh, looking at you with low eyes.

“Come,” she instructed, and for some reason, you stood, and found placement on her thigh. Her hands gripped your hips in a tighter grip than the one she had the first time you were like this with her. There was something different in her now. “Tell me what you want. What he isn’t giving you.”

You thought for a moment. “I’ve always thought about having my hands bound,” you told her, quietly. You let out a soft gasp as she used her tight grip on your hips to roll them forward slowly. “I don’t know how that would work, but I’ve wondered. Sometimes I think about my throat..” Once again you trailed off, unable to formulate the right thing.

“What about your throat, darlin’?” Sevika pushed, bringing you down on her thigh again.

“Having it squeezed, being choked in a sense.” Sevika let out a soft ‘mhm’, reaching up and cupping your face, swiping her thumb along your bottom lip before her hand fell to your throat, gently wrapping around your windpipe. Your hands rushed to her wrist as she tightened her grip, forcing your head up. She held you there, large hand wrapped tightly around your throat while her mech hand worked with your hips.

The fuzzier your brain got, the better the muscle of her thigh felt under you. Sevika rocked you and rocked you until you were finding your own pace, forcing your cunt down onto her thigh in rapid, uncoordinated motions. You were so close, stomach twisting as you gasped for air under Sevika’s hand, just for her to hold you down and restrict your movements. “Sevy,” you whined, trying to push and get to your finish.

“No baby,” she hushed. “Y’r gon’ have to wait. You can do that, can’tcha?” With a huff you nodded, wondering how long you’d have to wait. What did she even mean by ‘wait’? Sevika lifted you off her lap and stood you up, standing with you and pressing a hand into your back, pushing you until you began walking.

Her bedroom was lovely. She had a large bed, probably because she was so tall. The sheets were a dark shade of purple and made, creating a clean look for the already clean room. Once you got in the room she shut and locked the door, as if anyone else would walk in. “Sit. I’m gonna get some things, sugar. I’ll be right back.” You sat on the edge of her bed and watched her move around, first grabbing a box from a drawer and then leaving, returning shortly after with a bunched up rope.

“What’s all of that?” You asked, trying to catch a glimpse of what she had aside from the rope. God, of course she had rope. She was a rancher after all, she probably took it from the stables. She sat her things down on her nightstand next to her bed, turning to you.

“Nothin’ you needa worry your pretty little head about, sweetheart.” Sevika came to you and leaned down, tilting your chin to her and capturing your lips in a kiss. It grew from a chaste kiss to a feverous one quickly, with Sevika bearing down on you, pushing her weight into you, making you hers, just for tonight. She pulled away from you, climbing into and laying back on the bed. “Get up and strip for me, peach.”

“What if I want you to undress me?” You pouted. It felt strange, acting like this. You wanted her hands on you, you didn’t want to bother doing it yourself. That’s what you were here for. Not having to do things yourself like you did with your husband.

“You said you didn’t want borin’,” she said, nonchalantly, as she laid back and placed her human arm behind her head, muscles flexing in the best way possible to keep her upright. “So get up and strip.” Huffing, you did as told.

You would never have looked at the situation and called it something as vulgar as a strip tease, but the slowness of you stripping yourself and the way Sevika’s eyes fell upon your body as you did made the thought cross your mind. You were slow to pull your pajama top up, slow to slide your pajama shorts down your thighs, slow to rid yourself of your panties. God, she could come off the sight of it.

Once you were naked, she beckoned you over with her mech hand, having you sit in her lap. “You look so damn pretty like this, all naked in my lap.” She felt as if this was her first time having a woman in her lap. She didn’t know where to start, all of her favorite things were before her, yearning to be touched and pulled and sucked.

She leaned into your neck, sucking the skin there briefly before traveling down your body. She caught your nipple in her mouth, and by some miracle, you could’ve sworn it felt better than the first time. Maybe it was because, in her lap, you had something to grind down against when her teeth clashed over the sensitive spot in your nipple, and when she pushed her tongue up into the spot after nipping it.

“Sevika,” you moaned, head thrown back as she did her best work on your tits. Fuck, your tits. She barely thought about them the first time, but now? Now. She got to see them in all their glory, nipples perky and waiting, so fucking ready for her. She didn’t even bother with her mech arm, she needed to feel you. Feel the way your nipple hardened when she rolled it between her fingers and feel the way you gasped and ground down on her every time she made you feel good.

She made you feel good. Nobody else. Only her.

She switched tits, and she couldn’t resist rutting up into you when a string of drool dripped from your boob. She didn’t even realize she was sucking enough that drool could fucking drip from you nipple, but it was a sight from God nonetheless.

She took much longer on your tits this night than she had the previous night you spent together, and it was lovely. But, to your humiliation, you had completely soaked through her pajama pants. The material was thin, but it was sopping from your grinding and dripping. She could feel it on her leg, and the feeling was driving her up the wall.

Sevika didn’t find herself begging very often, especially not at the mercy of a woman she had in bed, but when her eyes fell between your wet nipples and the patch on her thigh, she couldn’t find herself doing anything but. “Please ride my face, sweet thing, need y’on my face.” Her hands rested on your thighs in a tight hold.

You sat up, going up and up until your cunt rested over her nose, and your thighs found purchase on either side of her head. She brought her hands to your hips and pulled, dragging you down onto her mouth. You were quick to learn that sitting on Sevika’s face was the best feeling you’d felt at this point in your life.

However, you were also quick to learn that her nose had more purpose than just fitting her face and breathing. Your clit found purpose on her nose while you rode her tongue, so much so that it made the experience that much better. You must’ve looked like a fucking slut the way you were humping her face, but the feeling of her flattening her tongue and letting you take control was one that you never wanted to escape.

Your orgasm hit you like a punch, making you double over on her face. With ease, Sevika lifted you off her face and pinned you to the bed by your lips, licking you up and making your legs shake around her head. “Sevy, it’s too much,” you whined, but she didn’t care to listen. Her middle finger was pushing against your entrance no matter how much you whimpered and moaned, finding solace in your pussy as she fucked you again.

Her pace was ruthless, fucking you with two of her fingers and arching them into the best spot inside you. You were gripping the sheets, arching your back, doing anything you could to get away from her relentless abuse of your cunt, but she was stronger than you, and you loved it.

Sevika loved it too. She loved the way that, if she wanted to, she could get you to do anything she wanted. You were easy to hold down, easy to pick up and throw around the room, she loved being bigger than you. It drove her mad, the way you looked next to her, or under her, or better yet, on top. She simply couldn’t get enough.

“We’re gon’ try somethin’ new, peach,” she kissed your pelvis, overtop where her fingers were still logged inside you. “I’m gonna stretch you out, make you all good and ready for my dick.” The words hardly registered in your head before a third finger was probing in your entrance. And it hurt. Three of her large fingers were wider than anything you had taken before, and it made you wonder how wide her strap was if her fingers were stretching you this much.

“Vika it hurts,” you cried, and she paused, letting you adjust to the feeling before pushing more in you. She adored the view, the way your pussy gaped and pulled her in. With little further struggle, all three fingers were knuckle-deep in you, and you were clenching tightly around them.

“That’s my pretty girl,” her voice was hoarse, watching you take her. If this was this good, she couldn’t imagine what her strap would look like bottomed out in you, greedy pussy sucking her in. She fucked your cunt slowly, building up your orgasm with each pump, until you were on the brink, and once you were there, she attached her lips to your clit and sucked, pulling everything she could out of you.

You came again with a shriek, overstimulation getting to the best of you. She had you coming for maybe a full minute, getting everything she could out of you before stuffing her fingers in your mouth. You hoped this would become a routine - her fucking you then making you suck your cum off her fingers. The way she looked at you was irreplaceable.

When she was finished, she was giving you a whole new set of instructions. “On your knees, face the headboard.” You did as told, waiting patiently as she trifled through her things. You felt the bed dip and her body take position behind you. “Gimme y’r hands, bunny.” The new nickname had you reeling.

You placed your hands behind your back and she gripped them both in her mechanical hand, and soon after, you felt the rough material of rope lacing your skin. She pulled tight, letting the scratchy material dig into your skin. “Be good, or I’ll have you comin’ till you can’t fucking think.” She whispered in your ear, placing a small kiss below your ear before pushing you forward and bending you over.

With a squeal, you went cheek first into the pillows, ass up. Sevika pressed her mech hand into the arch in your back, pushing down and down until you were arching up as much as you could. Sevika smirked, not that you could see. You looked so pretty like this. Your pussy was drenched, waiting for her dick. She swiped two fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness and smearing her strap with it, before lining her tip up with your entrance.

You whimpered when she pushed into you, the feeling different than her fingers. It was different than anything you’d felt - the rubber wasn’t warm like when you got fucked by your husband, obviously, and as she bottomed out, it was insatiably better than any way your husband had fucked you.

Maybe her strap was longer, or maybe it was the position she had you in, but the stretch of your cunt and the feeling of her being in you made your head spin. She pressed a firm hand into your shoulderblades as she began to work her hips, fucking you gently at first. She couldn’t watch anything but the sight of her strap disappearing fully in you, and it was growing harder and harder each breathing minute to restrain herself from fucking you as roughly as she could.

Really, there was no luck for her the minute your little uh, uh uh’s started, matching each thrust as the air got punched out of you. She grabbed your hip roughly and fucked into you harder, the skin of her thighs slapping loudly against your ass as her pace quickened.

“Fuck baby, y’r so good, such a good pussy.” She groaned, base of the harness fucking against her clit in just the right place. Her pace only got faster, and you were practically crying to god. It was no less than the best thing you'd felt in your life.

“Vika,” you moaned, dragging out the ‘a’ while her pace grew restless. She needed your pussy. It was like she was high out of her mind, addicted to your body and your cunt. “Vika, Vika, oh, daddy!” Her hips came to a stuttered stop.

Before you could apologize, her mech hand was wrapping tightly around the back of your neck and pulling you up off the bed, against her chest. She continued her original pace, the new angle hitting even better than before. “You call y’r husband that, sweetheart?” She groaned.

“No,” you whined, and she grabbed the rope, pulling you into a deeper arch against her. “Just you, Vika.” Her head fell into the crook of your neck with a deep groan.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she pushed you back down, reaching around and rubbing your clit with her human hand. Her pace and the clit stimulation had your stomach twisting. “Wanna put a baby in you,” she moaned before she could think. The conversation you guys had early resurrected in her brain, and the thought of fucking a baby into you, just the thought. Fuck, she could've come on sight.

“Please,” you whined, high pitched and fucking disgusting. “Put a baby in me Vika,” she was going to fucking explode. Her hand found your throat again, leaning over you and squeezing as she fucked you as deep as she could. You were so fucking close, the feeling almost overwhelming.

“Gon’ make you a mama, peach,” the idea crawled into her mind and she knew it would never leave. Fucking you pregnant with her baby. If she could, she would never stop. “Fuck,” her moan was much higher pitched than any of her others, and you could tell she was growing just as close as you were, “take it, take it, take it,” she moaned in between thrusts, hand only tightening around your neck. “Fucking take it, nghh,”

You came at the same time, but you could barely keep yourself from coming again when she reached down and squeezed, filling you up and leaving you spent. You moaned again, rocking back into her.

She pulled out slowly, letting you adjust to being without her as your cunt drooled. You went to move and she slapped your ass, making you yelp. “Stay.” She commanded, and you did.

It was truly a humiliating position. You were ass up, drooling like a fool while her cum dripped from your cunt. When she came back, she had a toy, and she wasted no time pressing it into you. “Keep this in ya’ till you get home, y’hear me? Need you full of my cum, bunny.”

She unraveled your hands and you rolled over, the plug shifting in you just enough to roll against your sensitive g-spot. “How'd you like that, pretty? Rough enough for my girl?” You watched as she stripped herself of her strap and put on a clean pair of purple boxers.

You simply hummed, shifting in her bed and rolling onto her pillows. “I like you a lot, Sev.” You mumbled, fuzzy, fucked out brain speaking before registering. “Wanna keep coming over.”

Sevika sighed. “Wish you could, sugar plum.” She came to you and rubbed your thighs. “But for now, you oughta get home. Y’r husband's waitin’,” you groaned, shutting your eyes tightly. “‘m sorry, angel.” You sat up, letting her bring your clothes to you.

“Where are my panties?” You asked with a pout as you trifled through the mound of clothes she presented you with.

She pressed a kiss into your forehead, but you could feel her smirk under it. “I’m keepin’ those, peach.” You giggled, slipping your top over you and standing to slip your shorts up. “You best do what I say ‘nd keep that in you.” Her tone was low as she watched you dress from her relaxed position on the bed.

“I will,” you promised, reaching over and placing a finger kiss on her lips. “Wish you could watch me drip, though.” You pouted.

“Don't say shit like that,” she growled, “or I'll have you bent over again.” You shrugged, smirk painting your lips.

“Bye Sevy,” you said quietly as you slipped on your shoes and robe. “I'll see you.” She sent you a short goodbye and you were leaving her home, traveling back across the ride and into your house.

What a life, you thought. You spent the time before you fell asleep thinking about what life would be like with Sevika. Having Sevika’s babies, walking down the aisle to Sevika. And boy, it was good to think about.

taglist: @sevsgiirl @chaosisclassy @ilovesevika88 @2hiigh2cry @glass-apothecary @zthebean27 @sli-v3r @carotenoidstereo @hbwrelic @savedforlaterr @sunflowerwinds @megamultifandomtrashposts @thatsmadiculous @thehoneybeesting @moodient @jinxvex @lez-zuha @sookaihrts @belovedisappointment @rereanduselessbird @sksksscarlet @coneyislandhorrorqueen @prwttiestbunny @ghostlylittlemoths @half-of-a-gay @aiden-slayyyys @womenlover360 @luphelia @maximoff-jp @losernb @dayfeelinglighter @powderpinkandsweeet @gumboug @andyslovingwife @hello222things @ayooooohush @yoursimhannah @yesplstodaysatan @purplehazzes @xblinkx2 @mistershotz @lilithyys @abbyanderswife @stmvivs @theoreticalfreak @deliciouslydeviantsatan @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @misswannadieqwq @wingedhallows

#sevika #sevika x y/n #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane smut #arcane league of legends #arcane league of lesbians #league of lesbians #league of legends

2K notes · View notes

knxfesck · 1 year ago

Text

hey tumblr what the FUCK

is this

#good ui is when uhhhhhh pill button and store plug #tumblr bullshit #txt #also can they please bring back the predictive tags within your blog thing #I can't keep track of shit around here

1 note · View note

lightasthesun · 1 year ago

Text

Comprehensive Lexicon Guide for First-Time SW Fic Readers:

Flimsi/Flimsiplast = Paper

Flimsiwork/Datawork = Paperwork

Stylus = Pen

Datapad = Tablet

Comlink/Comm = Communication Device/Phone

Binders = Handcuffs

Chronometer = Clock

Spectacles = Eyeglasses

Chrono = Watch

Conservator = Refrigerator

Caf = Coffee

Nerfburger = Hamburger

Blue milk = Milk (literally blue)

Hubba chips = French Fries

Sweet roll = Doughnut

Flatcakes = Pancakes

Tabac = Tobacco

HoloNet = World Wide Web

Holovision/HoloTV = Television

Holodrama/Holovids = Movie/Videos

Holocamera/Holocam = Camera

Holomap = three-dimensional map

Holojournal = Newspaper

Holocube = Picture frame

Holotable = Projector

Holoscanner = X-ray machine

Holojournalist = Reporter

Flatholo/Holograph = Photograph

Sonic Damper = Active Noise Cancellation

Refresher/Fresher= Bathroom

Sonic Bath = Bath

Sanisteam/Sonic shower = Waterless Shower

Hydrospanner = Wrench

Hydro Flask = Water Bottle

Power Cell/Energy Cell = Batteries

Authorization Chip = Decryption key

Datatape = Disk

Datastick = Flash drive

(Personal) Com Code = Phone number

Datachip = SD Card

Synthflesh = Synthetic skin

Glowrod = Flashlight

Sparkstick = Match

Slugthrower = Gun

Slug = Bullet

Vibroblade = a blade that can vibrate at high frequencies, increasing its cutting power and penetrating ability (tactical knife)

Rangefinder = Rifle scope

Turbolaser = Cannon

Ion pike/Vibropike = Spear

Electro Staff = Stun baton

Blaster = Pistol/Rifle

Stun Blaster = similar to a Taser

Landspeeder/Airspeeder/Speeder = Car

Turbolift = Elevator

Slideramp = Escalator

Starfighter = Fighter jet

Rotorcraft = Helicopter

Hoverpack/Jetpack= Jet pack

Speeder Bike = Motorcycle

Skylane = Traffic lane

Railspeeder/Hovertrain = Train

Power Chair/Hoverchair= Wheelchair

Windscreen = Windshield

Podracing = Car racing

Dejarik = Chess

Sabacc = Poker and Blackjack combined

Galactic Rebels = Combat simulator

B'shingh = Dungeons and dragons

Jizz = Jazz music

Wailer = Singer (ie. Jizz Wailer)

Cantina = Bar or Pup

Para Sailing = Paragliding

Aurebesh = Alphabet

Credits = Money

Sleeping Pallet = Bedroll

Naming Day = Birthday

Youngling = Child

Galactic Basic Standard/ Basic = English

Medkit/Medpac = First aid kit

Hypo = Syringe

Medic/Healer = Doctor

Medcenter = Hospital

Bactapatch = Bandaid

Nanoweave = Fabric

Transparisteel = Glass

Plastifoam = Packing material

Durasteel = Steel

Plasteel = Plastic

Duracrete = Concrete

Slicer = Hacker (slicing = hacking)

Identikit = Passport

Minder = Therapist

Synthleather = Vinyl

Viewport = Window

Cooling Unit = Air-conditioning

Honeydarter = Bee

Slythmonger = Drugdealer

Spice = Drugs

Stimpill = Caffeine pill

Power Socket = Plug

Cutters = Scissors

Cycle = Day

Standard Cycle = 24h

Standard Week = 5 days

Standard Month = 35 standard days

Standard Year = approx. ten months

Tenday = literally ten days

Cigarras/Smokes = Cigarettes

Click = Kilometer or 'a moment'

Parsec = a unit of distance

Tweezers/Clanker/tin head/tinnie = Droid

Separatist = Seppie

Promise Ring = Wedding Ring

Body Glove = Jumpsuit

Slicksuit = Wet suit

Civvies = Civilian clothing

Carbonite = a metal alloy used to freeze a person in a state of hibernation

Hyperdrive = device that allows a starship to travel faster than lightspeed

Moisture vaporator = device that can extract water from the air, commonly used on tatooine

Glareshades = Sunglasses

Gasser = Gas Oven

Repulsorlift = technology that can create an anti-gravity field and is used for levitating heavy objects

Heating unit = Heater

Utility Droid = Roomba

Sunbonnet = a Clone trooper helmet

Bad Batcher = a defective Clone Trooper

Banthabrain = birdbrain/ a stupid person

Bantha fodder = waste of space/nonsense

Blast! = word of exclamation

Blasted! = s.o in anger or annoyance

Blaster-brained = dimwitted

Blaster fodder = cannon fodder

Blast off = Piss off

Brainless = Stupid

Bug/Bugger = used to refer to Geonosians

Forceforsaken = godforsaken

Full of Poodoo = full of shit

Poodoo = Shit

Kriff = Fuck

Jedi scum = derogatory term for jedi

Kark = derogatory expletive

Larty = LAAT/i gunship

Laserbrain = insult

Meat droid = derogatory term for Clone Troopers

Redrobes = Palpatines guard

Rookie/Shinie = newly recruited Trooper

Scum = insult to refer to bounty hunters/rebels

Sharpie = Sharp-witted

Sithspawn/Sithspit/Hellspawn! = expletive

Sleemo = Slimeball

Son of a bantha = insult

Wizard! = Cool

Spaced = dead

Hutt-spawn = Bastard

Karabast = exclamation of dismay

Stang = Crap

Buckethead/Bucketbrain = derogatory term for Stormtroopers

Bucket = Helmet

Nat-born = Natural Born

Roger Roger = affirmative/copy that

Droid poppers = EMP grenade

Sitrep = short for situation report

Backwater Planet = any planet that isn't part of the core system

Holocron = device that can project a three-dimensional image of a person/object and is used for communication or entertainment.

Kessel Run = a risky Operation. Commonly used as a metaphor in impossible situations.

Thermal Detonator= device that can create a powerful explosion like a grenade or bomb

Ray Shield/Energy Shield = creates a (protective) barrier

Rebreather = device that allows a person to breathe underwater or in toxic environments

Phrases:

Wild goose chase = wild bantha chase

That's bantha shit = that's bullshit

As slippery as a greased Dug = untrustworthy

Credit for your thoughts = penny for your thoughts

Cut the poodoo = cut the crap

to get your gills in a twist = get upset about something

Holy mother of meteors = holy mother of god

Oh my skies/ Oh my stars = exclamation of surprise

Stars' end! = exclamation of disbelief

What in the blue blazes = exclamation

When Geonosis freezes over/When it snows on tatooine = extremely unlikely

Who pissed in your power supply = who pissed you off

Blast it = damn it

By the maker = exclamation of surprise

Great karking Dragon = expression of disbelief

Lothcat got your tongue = equivalent of 'cat got your tongue?'

Sod it = expression of frustration

#shitpost incoming #I'm converting my friend into a star wars fan so I thought why not make a dictionary for every new fic reader lmao #star wars #writing star wars #star wars languages #star wars lore #im definitely missing some but these are words I've seen most commonly used in fanfic #userlumi #writing star wars fic #aurebesh #galactic basic Standard #as long as one person finds this post helpful it was worth it #youre all welcome to add to it #im stopping now coz otherwise I'mma clog the dash

6K notes · View notes

witherby · 2 months ago

Note

What would happen if Mouse got sick? Like super, probably at deaths door kind of sick? ok maybe that last part was exaggerating it a bit...But like almost 39 degrees fever, coughing to the point of gagging and vomiting, runny nose, fatigue, no appetite for anything, etc. Based off my own experiences when I get sick. I wanna know what they would do and who would panic the most. Who would lose the little sleep they already have even more. Who would think that the babeh is at deaths door. And who would be the most relieved when Mouse is better a few days later with the help of a paediatric approved medication

-🍨

I like this prompt a lot so I'm gonna do it. Hope u reaaaally like angst tho.

The Littlest Wayne: Sick Bed, part 1

Masterlist is Here!

⚠️ Spoiler/content warning: Young sick child, fever, depiction of seizure ⚠️

It starts with a cough.

"Hey, careful," Jason says, patting your back. The water you'd been sipping sprays across the table as you choke. Tim reaches over to right the glass and Alfred goes and collects a rag to mop up the mess. "You okay?"

"Mhmm," you mutter, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "Sorry...I can clean it, grandpa Alfie."

"It's quite alright, Flittermouse." Alfred gently runs a hand through your hair. "Oh, my, you're quite warm. Why don't you head up to your room and I'll have someone bring a tray to you with soup and crackers?"

"Okay." You push your chair away from the table and duck underneath it, allowing the shadow of the furniture to swallow you up. Bruce watches the dark blob you've become slide out of the dining room and towards the stairs with less energy than usual.

"I'll take it, Alfred," Dick says before anyone else can volunteer, rising from his seat. He sets his leftovers in front of Jason as he passes, helping the butler prepare a tray for you. "Do we have any Tylenol for little kids? If not, I can just crush up a half-pill for them."

"Child-friendly medications will be found in the young master's en-suite bathroom cabinet," Alfred says. "It will just be a few minutes for the soup, Master Dick. I'd recommend you head upstairs and measure out a small dose for your sibling before it's ready."

"Kay, sure," he nods, excusing himself.

Dick hops up the stairs two at a time and enters the family wing of the manor, trailing his hand along the walls and door frames until he finds yours. He knocks lightly and rapidly, a silly little sequence to let you know which brother it is, then opens the door to let himself in.

Your bedroom is almost pitch black. Since the development of your powers, your space has changed to reflect your needs overtime, which means the overhead lightbulbs have been removed and the sheer, pastel blinds over your window have been replaced with thick blackout curtains. For your family who require some form of illumination to see, you have several night lights you pick and choose from; you currently have a round projector plugged in that casts aurora borealis across the ceiling (a gift from Tim) and you've activated the touch sensors installed in the floor that briefly light up everywhere Dick walks, leaving his footprints behind for several seconds until they fade away.

The furniture you originally had, designed in warm, woody colors with bright accents, have also been replaced with black hardware and dark materials. Your bed frame is a dip-dyed wood with silver accents, your mattress and sheets are black, and your dressers, nightstand, and closet have all been painted to match.

At first glance, the large bedroom looks like every goth kid's biggest dream, but the light from the hallway spills briefly into your space when Dick walks inside, showing the bright, colorful books sitting on your black bookshelves, the even more colorful clothes in your wardrobe, your vast collection of toys, and a litany of pictures and photos on all the walls. There is a vibrant, beautiful life in the darkness, which encapsulates you perfectly in his opinion.

"Hi, Flitty," he greets, moving slowly as his eyes adjust to the light. "Alfred's working on your soup, so big bro Dicky's here to do medicine time. Holler at me so I don't accidentally step on you in here."

"Okay," you say from his left. Dick turns and squints, spotting a lump on your bed. He smiles.

"There you are. Lemme see if there's any of the gummies in your med cabinet. Those ones don't taste all gross."

He steps into your bathroom and turns the fairy lights on, bathing the area in a soft glow, and rifles through your cabinet for a minute. Then he makes his way to your bed, sitting on the edge of it with some chewables and a glass of water.

"C'mere," he says, and you comply, shuffling across the bed to give him a quick hug. "Alright. Can you show me you're a big kid and take this for me? Then you'll get a nice bowl of soup and maybe some juice."

You comply without fuss. Dick hears more than he sees you take the medication in the low light, and you go back to hugging him when you're done. Dick wraps his arms around you and lies down, propping you mostly on his chest.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah. Just sleepy," you reply. "And my throat hurts kinda, from when I spit my water."

"Aw, I'm sorry. You only need to stay awake long enough to take a couple bites and then you can rest as long as you want."

"Okay...stay?"

Dick hums, running his fingers gently through your hair. He was supposed to go back to Blüdhaven this afternoon, but...

"Yeah, Flitty. I'll stay."

It turns into a fever.

"I'm sorry to turn you away when you've already come by, Delilah," Bruce says, meeting your private tutor in the vestibule. "Mouse came down with something yesterday, and I don't think they'll be up for lessons for the next few days. I forgot to tell you."

"Oh, that's absolutely no problem, mister Wayne," the tutor smiles, shaking her head. "I wish them a speedy recovery! Let me know if there's anything you need."

"I will, thank you. Take care!"

Bruce closes the door after seeing her out, the Charming Socialite mask slipping off his face as he heads for the stairs. He meets Alfred at the top with a nod, stepping past him and walking up to your bedroom door.

He gently knocks three times against the glossy wood, calling your name. "Can I come in?"

After a moment, he watches it click open, and you squint up at him in the doorway.

"Hi, daddy," you croak, voice dry and harsh from the progression of your flu. Bruce tuts and scoops your clammy body into his arms, carrying you back to your bed.

"Honey, you didn't have to come greet me," he says, "manners get thrown out the window when you're sick, remember? Let's get you tucked in."

You don't fuss or complain, which makes the worry flare up in Bruce's mind. He pushes it back, refusing to catastrophize a cold. All of his children get sick, it's not unheard of. A little fever is fine, and so is your lack of excitable energy. It's normal and expected.

"How do you feel?" He asks, pulling the blankets up to your chest. You squirm a bit, kicking them down.

"Hot," you say, "sleepy."

Bruce compromises by tucking the blanket around your tummy instead. You don't push it down any further. He pulls out a thermometer from his pocket and scans your forehead.

"Yeah, you are running a bit hot," he admits. An even one hundred degrees. Should be easy enough to control with careful attention. "Alfred says you refused breakfast this morning. Do you want to try eating something small for lunch? More soup?"

You shake your head. "Not hungry."

"I know you're not hungry, pumpkin," Bruce says, gently squeezing your hand. "But you don't wanna starve, either. Then you'll shrink up like a raisin! How am I supposed to snuggle a raisin?"

You smile a bit and give a wheezy huff of laughter. Bruce smiles back.

"So, will you try? You can have anything you want. I just need to see you take a few bites of something."

"Okay, daddy. Want...um... I want more soup please."

"You can have more soup," Bruce promises, running a hand through your sweatslick hair. He reminds himself to run you a bath in a couple hours. Maybe after a nap. "Do you want anything else?"

"Mmmyeah. Bedtime story?"

"Yeah," he says. "Any story you want, after we get some soup in you."

You smile again. It eases the knot of dread in Bruce's chest.

It gets worse.

Three days into it, your fever spikes in the middle of the night. You completely refuse any sort of food or drink all day, despite the angry growling of your stomach, and the family unanimously decides to bring you to the hospital in the morning to get looked at. Dinner without you is full of worry and tense glances toward the family wing, and it seems like not a lot of sleep is going to be had before they find out the total extent of your illness.

When tossing and turning in bed for a few hours doesn't lead him anywhere, Damian decides to give in to the nagging in the back of his head and pop in your room to check on you. He rushes to your bed when he sees you seizing and gasping for breath. Your temperature's shot up to a hundred and six and you don't react when he tries to shake you awake.

Fearful and, for once, feeling every bit the child he still is, he clutches your body to his chest and screams.

"BABAA!!"

The door slams open in seconds, though to him it feels like an eternity. Hal and Jason are coaxing Damian to let go of you and Bruce climbs on the bed to roll you onto your side, carefully wiping the foam and drool away from your mouth while he checks your vitals. Tim is in the hallway calling 9-1-1 and texting Dick to let him know what's happening.

"Dami, you gotta move," Jason says, placing his hands overtop his brother's. Damian's grip on your arm is so tight it's bruising. "Let go, they're okay. Let go."

"I'm tracking their pulse, you dumb bastard!" Damian snaps. "Release me!"

"You're hurting them, Dames," Hal says in his ear, wrapping his arms around Damian's waist. "Bruce has them, now. You have to let go and get out of the way for the paramedics."

Green eyes snap to your arm. He seems to finally take stock of what he's doing and eases off, letting Hal pick him up and pass him off to Jason, who carries him into the hallway.

"Stay out here," Jason says. "It's our job to keep out of the way for now."

"Who's going to let the paramedics in?" Damian asks, trying to pry himself out of Jason's grip. As much as he tries to crane his neck, Jason's standing too far away from your door to let him see how you're doing, and his iron grip is unyielding.

"Alfred's by the gate controls, he'll let them inside."

Tim gets off the phone with the emergency dispatcher and glances at your door with a frown. Every hitching gasp and choke you make can be heard from the hall, along with Bruce and Hal's barely-concealed, panicked murmuring, and he crosses his arms tightly and shuffles over to Jason now that his task is done.

"Can we wait downstairs?" He mutters. Jason keeps one arm wrapped around Damian and slings the other around Tim's shoulders, guiding them to the staircase.

"I want to stay!" Damian insists, pulling against Jason, who ends up needing to sling the little assassin over his shoulder to get him to move. "Todd!!"

"Robin," Jason snaps in his best Batman impersonation. It's a damn good one, because Damian quiets immediately, stiffening in his arms and ceasing his struggling without further protest. Tim freezes beside him, but Jason just pats his back and keeps guiding him down the stairs.

The trio is quiet as they file into the main living room. Jason and Tim sit on the couch and Damian gets propped up in his brother's lap. Try as he might, he can't wiggle out of Jason's arms.

"This is asinine," he hisses. "I should be up there."

"Doin' what?" Jason asks. "Bruce and Hal are both in there with Mousey. Alfred's about to guide the EMTs inside. Tim called 911 and then told Dick the situation. You were the one that first found 'em and got help."

Jason gives Damian a squeeze, propping his chin on top of his head.

"You saved their life, Damian. Ya don't need to do more than that right now. Let the grown-ups take the reins for a while."

"But I —"

"You've done more than enough," Jason insists, not unkindly. His tone has been uncharacteristically soft the whole time, Damian realizes belatedly. "I'm sure they'll thank you when they come out the other side of this."

Damian didn't do it for your thanks. He did it because he loves you. Despite you quickly approaching the age where Bruce might offer you the Robin mantle soon, which has filled him with more anxiety and anger than he's had in a long time, he loves you dearly and doesn't want anything to befall you.

In spite of everything, he's your big brother and he loves you just as much as he can't stand you.

"They will be fine," he mutters firmly. "There's no alternative."

"Right," Tim speaks up. He sounds like he needs the reassurance just as much as Damian. "M is gonna be okay."

The three of them turn their heads when several pairs of footsteps enter the vestibule. Four paramedics rush in with a stretcher and duffel bags of medical equipment. Alfred orders them in the direction of your bedroom with simple, firm instructions, and they head off.

The butler then turns, spotting them out of his periphery, and he clears his throat and adjusts the belt around his robe. He's still in his sleepwear, having rushed out of bed to help prep for the emergency like everyone else.

"I've had my fair share of exciting nights," he comments, "but I must say, they never become more enjoyable. Why don't you all join me in the kitchen and I'll prepare some drinks? Hot chocolate should suffice on a chilly evening."

"Sounds fantastic," Jason says, hopping to his feet. He lifts Damian up with him, denying him the chance to refuse, and with a glance and jerk of his chin, coaxes Tim to get up and follow after.

"Put me down," Damian says, reaching up to tug on Jason's night shirt. "I won't run back upstairs. I swear."

"Yeah? You double-swear? Don't make me chase you, kid, I really do not have the patience."

"On Father's life," he insists.

Jason sets him on the floor. Damian follows them into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island, cupping his hands around a warm mug of hot cocoa when Alfred hands it to him a couple minutes later. He watches the wisps of steam curl up into the air and dissipate, unable to stop thinking about your writhing body in bed. Your eyes had rolled back and your limbs had locked up, jerking uncontrollably. And the noises you were making...

The mug gives a foreboding creak under his grip. Alfred gently places his hand on Damian's back and gives it several soft pats.

"Do not fret, master Damian," he says, "our little Flittermouse is very resilient. An illness turning poorly won't keep them down for long."

"I know," he says. Alfred nods, and with a final brush against his shoulder, tends to Tim next to ensure he's also doing okay. When Damian looks at Jason, he sees him calmly drinking from his mug without so much as a furrow in his brow. But there's an almost imperceptible ricketing noise that means he's bouncing his leg nervously. It makes his stomach twist almost painfully, to know he's just as scared as everybody else.

Damian takes a deep breath. He sips his coco. He thinks of the froth pouring out of your mouth when Bruce rolled you into the recovery position. He puts the mug down.

He knows you'll be okay. You have to, because he just can't live with the alternative.

#el speaks #littlest wayne au #batfam x reader #angst #platonic batfam #🍨#tw: depiction of seizure

784 notes · View notes

lemonsdietcoke · 3 months ago

Text

Parting Gift - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

This is part 2 of my mini series love ridden (you don’t have to read part 1 but it helps you get a deeper understanding of their relationship)

Warnings: Toxic relationship,Emotional manipulation and gaslighting, DUBCON/implied sexual misconduct, power imbalances and coercion,mentions of substance abuse,threats of self-harm, mentions of bruising, vomiting, unreliable memory

Summary: “It ended bad, but I love what we started.” A night out, was supposed to be a distraction, a step to moving on. Instead it leaves you questioning everything. Loosely inspired by Parting gift-Fiona apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: ahhhh here it is! This is very much a wild ride so be prepared and get comfortable lol. Lmk if yall fw. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!!

……………………..

“Two years.”

It echoes in your head as you stare at your phone. The screen blinks, illuminating the dark, quiet apartment, and your reflection stares back at you. Hollow eyes. Lifeless skin.

You don’t even recognize yourself anymore.

Two years of late nights.

Two years of broken promises.

Two years of fights that always ended the same way — with you apologizing for things you hadn’t even done.

Two years of Su-bong.

The notifications keep coming.

Messages. Missed calls. Voicemails.

You blocked him a week ago. You had to.

Before that, you let the calls go unanswered. You left his texts on read. But after that voicemail, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It wasn’t just the things he said.

It was the way he sounded.

Drunk. High out of his mind. Slurring his words like he could barely get them out.

You’d heard him like that before, of course. Countless times. But this was different.

The shaking breath at the beginning of the message.

The muffled sound of a bottle cap hitting the floor.

The distinct rattle of a pill bottle.

And then his voice —

Low. Rough. Desperate.

“You know, if you don’t fucking answer me…”

There was a pause. You could hear him breathing.

“Maybe I should just end it all.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

The sound of pills being shaken in his hand.

“It’s in your hands now.”

You remember sitting on the floor of your new apartment, the phone clutched in your hands, shaking so hard you thought you might drop it.

That was the breaking point.

You blocked him.

It was hard. Very hard.

What if he was serious?!

What if he did it and it was your fault?!

But it didn’t stop the nightmares.

It’s been a month since the breakup, and you haven’t left your apartment in days.

The dishes are piled up in the sink. Your laundry is overflowing.

You haven’t brushed your hair in three days.

The weight of it all feels suffocating.

You thought leaving him would make you feel free.

Instead, you feel empty.

When your phone buzzes again, you ignore it.

It’s probably Ji-hye.

She’s been trying to get you to go out for weeks.

“You need to live a little,” she said last time you saw her.

But you don’t feel like living.

Still, when your phone buzzes again, you pick it up.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:17 PM): Come out with us tonight. Please?

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:18 PM): There’s a new club opening in Itaewon. It’ll be fun.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:19 PM): I’m not taking no for an answer.

You stare at the messages for a long time.

The thought of going to a club makes your stomach turn.

You haven’t been out in two years.

You haven’t been you in two years.

But the apartment feels too small.

Too quiet.

Too empty.

Fuck it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shower burns your skin.

You scrub until you feel raw, as if you can wash away the last two years.

But no amount of scrubbing erases the bruises —

The ones he left on your heart.

When you step out, you wipe the fogged mirror and stare at your reflection.

Your hair is a tangled mess.

Your eyes are rimmed with dark circles.

You look like someone who’s been barely holding it together.

This isn’t who I am, you tell yourself.

You plug in your hair straightener. You do your makeup.

By the time you’re done, you almost feel like yourself again.

You rifle through your closet, pulling out a black dress you haven’t worn in years. It still fits — snug and short, hugging your body in a way that feels foreign after months of oversized hoodies and leggings.

When you step into your heels, you wobble for a second.

It’s been so long since you’ve worn anything but sneakers.

But when you look in the mirror again —

You see her.

The girl you used to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ji-hye and her friends are already tipsy when you meet them outside the club.

She squeals when she sees you.

“Look at you! You look amazing!”

You try to smile, but it feels forced.

The club is packed.

Neon lights pulse to the beat of the music.

Bodies move together on the dance floor.

Ji-hye hands you a shot as soon as you walk in.

“Drink up!”

You down it quickly, the burn making you wince.

“Another?”

Why not?

By the time you lose count, you’ve had at least six shots.

Maybe more.

You stopped counting after the first round of tequila.

The room spins slightly, but you feel good.

Better than you’ve felt in weeks.

You laugh with Ji-hye.

You dance with strangers.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

And then you see him.

At first, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you.

But when you blink, he’s still there.

Su-bong.

He’s standing near the bar, his eyes locked on you.

His hair is messy, his shirt unbuttoned at the top.

He looks the same as he always does —

Rough around the edges, disheveled in that careless way that made you fall for him in the first place.

But there’s something in his eyes —

Something dark.

Your stomach twists.

The room feels too hot.

You grab Ji-hye’s arm.

“Ji-hye. Is he…?”

Her eyes widen.

“Oh shit.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

She bites her lip, looking guilty.

“I didn’t know. I swear. But he’s friends with Seung-ho.”

She nods toward one of the guys in their group — a guy you don’t know well.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic beat.

You down another shot, your hands shaking slightly.

Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll go away.

But he doesn’t.

When you look up again, he’s moving toward you.

You see him before he speaks.

The way he weaves through the crowd, his gaze locked on you like he’s on a mission.

You look away.

You try to pretend you didn’t see him.

But it’s too late.

He’s right there.

“Hey.”

His voice cuts through the noise, low and rough.

You don’t turn around.

You keep your eyes on your drink, your knuckles white as you grip the glass.

“I didn’t know you came here.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

Your whole body goes stiff.

“Fuck off, Su-bong.”

Your voice is steady, but your heart is pounding.

He doesn’t move.

Instead, he slides into the seat next to you.

Like he belongs there.

Like nothing happened.

“Come on,” he says, his tone light, almost teasing. “You’re really not even going to say hi?”

You turn to him, your eyes flashing.

“Why would I?”

He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you missed me.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Missed you?”

You set your drink down, leaning closer.

“You left me voicemails threatening to fucking kill yourself. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

His expression doesn’t change.

He doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.

“Did it scare you?”

Your blood runs cold.

“What?”

“Did it scare you?” he repeats, his voice soft.

“Did you think I was going to do it?”

You stare at him, horrified.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His lips twitch into something that might be a smile — but there’s no warmth in it.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says, his tone almost casual.

“And you wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“So you thought threatening to kill yourself was the way to get my attention?”

Your voice is shaking now, anger and fear mixing in your chest.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he reaches for your hand.

And you’re too stunned to pull away.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“I don’t know what to do without you.”

You rip your hand away, standing up so fast your chair scrapes against the floor.

“Don’t fucking do that.”

Your voice is loud now, cutting through the music.

“Don’t pretend you’re some fucking victim.”

His expression hardens.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are.”

You step closer, your chest heaving.

“You always do this. You always make it about you. Like your fucking pain is the only thing that matters.”

He stands up slowly, towering over you.

“I’m in pain because of you.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

His voice is low now. Dangerous.

“You love me.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

He steps closer.

“I know you do. You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t.”

You hate how he gets in your head.

How he twists your words.

“I don’t love you,” you say again, but it sounds weaker this time.

He leans in, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“Then why haven’t you moved on?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut.

And you don’t have an answer.

“Let’s go outside,” he says.

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“It’s too loud in here.”

You hesitate.

“Please.”

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away.

“Just talk to me.”

Your heart is pounding.

Your mind is spinning.

And against your better judgment —

You follow him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alleyway outside the club smells like cigarette smoke and spilled beer.

You cross your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. The night air feels too cold against your skin, cutting through the warmth of the alcohol.

Su-bong lights a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he brings it to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then —

“What do you want from me?”

Your voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and strained.

He exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze steady on you.

“I just want you.”

You laugh, bitter and harsh.

“Do you even hear yourself? You had me, Su-bong. You had me for two fucking years, and you—”

Your voice cracks.

“You fucking broke me.”

His jaw tightens.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

Your chest heaves, your breath fogging in the cold air.

“Over and over again.”

“I know.”

He takes a step closer.

“And I’m sorry.”

It’s the softness in his voice that undoes you.

That fucking softness.

Because for a split second —

You almost believe him.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words hang in the air between you, soft and deliberate, like he’s trying to carve them into your skin. And you hate how much they make your chest ache.

You hate that it’s him standing here, saying these things. Again.

“You say that like it fucking matters.” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “Like it changes anything.”

He exhales smoke, eyes never leaving yours. “It does matter.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head, your arms tightening around yourself like it’s the only thing holding you together. “You’ve hurt me too many times for it to matter.”

A pause.

A flicker of something in his eyes.

And then, softly —

“I couldn’t stop.”

The words hit you harder than you want them to.

Your chest tightens, your mind flashing back to the nights he stumbled through the door, high and out of it, mumbling half-assed apologies through the haze.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he continues, his voice quiet. “Not without you.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you whisper. “You can’t keep blaming me for your fucking choices.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” You gesture between the two of you, your voice rising. “What do you think you’re doing right now?”

“I’m trying to fix it.”

Your laugh is sharp, bitter. “Fix it? You can’t fix this, Su-bong. You can’t.”

He flinches at the way your voice cracks.

But he doesn’t back down.

“I can try.”

You shake your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. The months of pain, the sleepless nights, the voicemail that still echoes in your mind.

“You’re fucking selfish.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t deny it.

“You don’t love me,” you say, and it feels like you’re ripping your own heart out. “You love what I do for you. You love having someone to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. Someone to save you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your chest heaves. “You only ever show up when you’re desperate. When you need something. And I’m fucking done being that person for you.”

He takes a step closer, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, burning down to the filter.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

You hate the way your heart twists.

“I want you.”

You shake your head again, but it’s weaker this time.

“I love you.”

And there it is.

Those three fucking words.

The words that used to make your heart explode. The words that used to make you believe in him, in a future that never existed.

“I can’t do this without you,” he says, and his voice breaks, just a little. “I’ve tried, Y/N. I’ve tried to be better, but I’m fucking lost without you.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“You’re only lost because you never tried to find yourself,” you whisper. “You’ve always expected me to do it for you.”

His eyes soften, that familiar vulnerability creeping in.

“I’m trying now.”

“No, you’re not.” You take a step back. “You’re trying to pull me back in. That’s all you ever do.”

A beat of silence.

Then —

“I miss you.”

The words cut through the night, soft and raw.

And you feel yourself wavering.

Fuck.

You press your palms to your face, trying to breathe, trying to steady yourself.

“You don’t get it,” you whisper. “You don’t get what you did to me.”

He takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Your chest heaves, your heart pounding.

“I don’t want to hear that.”

“You need to.”

“No, I fucking don’t.” Your voice cracks, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. “What I need is to move on.”

His hand reaches out, tentative, trembling.

But when his fingers brush against your arm-

You flinch.

It’s instinctive.

A reaction you couldn’t stop if you tried.

And the look on his face?

It’s devastating.

He pulls his hand back slowly, like he’s been burned.

“I’m not him anymore.”

The words are quiet, almost desperate.

“I’m not the guy who fucked up. I’m not the guy who hurt you.”

“You are.” Your voice is soft, but firm. “You’ll always be that guy, Su-bong.”

His gaze drops to the ground, and for a moment, you think he’s going to give up.

But then he looks up again.

“I just want to talk,” he says. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitate.

The rational part of you — the part that’s spent the last month piecing yourself back together — is screaming at you to walk away.

But your heart?

Your heart is still caught in the web he’s spun around you.

“ we’re already talking…” you slightly slur your words, the alcohol taking full effect.

“Five minutes,” he says again, softer this time. “At my place. Please.”

And against your better judgment —

You nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake to the sensation of weight.

Heavy. Suffocating.

An arm draped over your waist. A body pressed too close, warm breath against the back of your neck.

And for one blissful second, you’re still half asleep. Still caught in that hazy space between dreams and reality, your mind fogged over with sleep, soft and pliant.

But then your eyes open.

And everything sharpens.

The bedroom is dark — curtains drawn, faint slivers of morning light sneaking through the cracks. The air is stale, tinged with cigarette smoke and something faintly metallic. It smells familiar.

And the weight around your waist?

It’s Su-bong.

Your stomach lurches.

No. No, no, no.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest, the dull ache between your temples throbbing harder with each beat. Your mind scrambles to piece together how the fuck you ended up here. The last thing you remember clearly is the club — Ji-hye pulling you onto the dance floor, shots of tequila burning your throat, the neon lights swirling around you.

And then —

His voice.

His hands.

And now you’re here. In his bed.

You hold your breath, every muscle in your body going rigid. His arm is still heavy across your waist, his hand curled loosely against your hip, fingers twitching like he’s dreaming.

Carefully — so carefully — you think maybe you can slip out from under him.

Carefully, you reach for his wrist, your fingers trembling as you try to lift his arm off you. The sheet rustles softly, the sound too loud in the suffocating silence. You freeze, your breath hitching.

He stirs.

A small, unconscious noise slips from his throat, his fingers curling slightly against your hip.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

Please don’t wake up.

You stay frozen, your body stiff, your breath shallow. His arm feels impossibly heavy against your waist, like it’s anchoring you to the mattress. Slowly — so slowly — you ease it off you, inch by inch, until it finally falls to the bed.

He murmurs something in his sleep, low and unintelligible.

You freeze again, your pulse roaring in your ears.

He doesn’t wake.

You let out a shaky breath, the sound barely audible, and sit up as quietly as you can. The room tilts slightly as you do, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache. You press a hand to your temple, blinking against the dizziness.

The sheets are tangled around your legs, the fabric twisted and damp with sweat. You untangle yourself carefully, your fingers trembling, your movements slow and deliberate.

His body shifts slightly behind you, his breathing deepening for a moment before settling back into a steady rhythm.

Move.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet. The hem of your dress rides up as you stand, the fabric wrinkled and twisted, clinging to your skin.

You glance back at him, your chest tight.

He’s still asleep.

But his face is turned toward you now, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips parted slightly. He looks softer like this, his usual sharp edges dulled by sleep.

It makes your stomach turn.

Focus.

You force your gaze away, scanning the room for your things.

Your phone.

Your purse.

Where the fuck are they?

The panic sets in slowly, creeping up your spine like cold water, inch by inch. You scan the room, searching for your things, but the room looks almost exactly the same as when you left a month ago.

Cluttered. Messy. The ashtray on the nightstand is overflowing. Empty bottles litter the floor. The same crumpled blankets. The same cigarette burns in the carpet.

Like time stood still.

Like he hasn’t moved on.

Your stomach twists painfully, nausea creeping in at the edges. You stand, your legs unsteady, your head pounding. The ache in your body — between your thighs, in the muscles of your legs — is impossible to ignore.

You take a step toward the bathroom, your hands trembling as you reach for the door handle. You need a moment to breathe. To think.

To figure out what the fuck happened.

The bathroom is as grim as you remember. The light flickers when you turn it on, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. The mirror is streaked with water stains, the sink cluttered with half-used toiletries.

You close the door behind you, locking it with a shaky hand.

And then you catch your reflection.

Your lipstick is barely there anymore, smudged at the edges. Your mascara streaked under your eyes. Your hair is a tangled mess, the carefully straightened strands now knotted and frizzy.

But it’s the rest of you that makes your breath catch.

The dress you wore last night is twisted around your waist, the hem wrinkled and pulled too high. Your thighs are bare. You pull at the fabric, tugging it down, but your hands freeze when you see the faint bruises.

Finger-shaped bruises.

They’re light, barely there, but you know what they are.

Your stomach drops.

You lift the hem of your dress higher, revealing more bruises along your inner thighs. Some small, faint smudges of blue and purple. Some darker.

You press your fingers to them, your skin flinching under your own touch.

Did I fall?

Did I—

Your mind races, scrambling for an explanation, for anything that makes sense.

And then your eyes flicker lower.

Your underwear is backward.

You stare for a long moment, your brain struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing. The waistband digs awkwardly into your hips, the tag twisted around to the front.

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Your stomach churns violently.

You lift the toilet lid, falling to your knees as you retch. There’s nothing in your stomach but bile, burning its way up your throat.

When you’re done, you sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The bathroom spins around you, your head pounding, your chest heaving with shallow breaths.

You reach for the sink, pulling yourself up slowly, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles turn white.

Your eyes flicker back to your reflection.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache between your legs.

Did we—

No.

No, no, no.

You grip the sink harder, your nails digging into the porcelain.

‘I don’t remember.’

That’s the worst part.

You don’t remember anything.

You remember seeing him at the club. You remember yelling at him, calling him out for the voicemail. You remember him pulling you outside, the alley reeking of cigarette smoke and beer.

And then it’s all a blur.

Flashes of his voice. His hand on your arm. The way he looked at you — dark, desperate.

But nothing else.

Your chest tightens painfully.

You want to leave.

You need to leave.

You unlock the bathroom door with shaking hands, your heart pounding in your chest as you step back into the bedroom.

But when you step inside —

He’s awake.

Su-bong is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair. He looks up when he hears you, his gaze locking on yours.

And the first thing you notice?

He’s sober.

There’s no haze in his eyes. No slurred speech. No unsteady hands.

He’s completely sober.

Your stomach twists painfully.

“Morning.”

His voice is soft, tentative.

Like he’s testing the waters.

You don’t say anything.

You take a step toward the nightstand, searching for your phone. Your purse. Anything.

But he stands up slowly, blocking your path.

“Hey.”

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“You don’t have to run.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t remember anything,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I don’t—”

“I know.” His eyes soften, his brows pulling together in that familiar expression of concern. “You were really drunk.”

Your heart sinks.

“What happened?”

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You saw me at the club. You… you wanted to come back here.”

You shake your head, your stomach churning.

“I don’t remember that.”

You must’ve been really drunk because from what you remember you weren’t exactly happy too see him. How did you go from fighting with him to begging to be back at his apartment?

“You were drunk,” he says again, like it’s the answer to everything. “It’s okay. I took care of you.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache.

“What do you mean, you took care of me?”

His gaze flickers away for a moment, his jaw tightening.

“You wanted to come back,” he says softly. “You told me you missed me. That you wanted to… you know. Talk. Figure things out.”

Your mind spins, scrambling to fill in the blanks.

“I don’t remember,” you whisper again, your voice shaking.

“I know.” He steps closer, his voice low, soothing. “It’s okay. I missed you too.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours.

You flinch.

But he doesn’t pull back.

“I missed you,” he says again, his voice softening. “I love you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. They only hurt so bad because he was saying them now. After everything.

And for a moment —

You don’t know what to believe.

“You were wasted, Y/N.”

His words come soft, careful, like he’s tiptoeing around something fragile. His body language matches it — slouched shoulders, a furrowed brow, the faintest slump in his posture like he’s weighed down by concern.

Your stomach churns.

“I… I wasn’t that drunk.” The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. A lie to yourself, as much as to him. You’d lost count at six shots. At least six. Maybe more.

His lips press into a thin line, a faint shake of his head following. “You could barely stand.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, knuckles trembling.

“I don’t remember…” You force the words out, hating how small they sound, how they let the power tip toward him.

He exhales slowly, running a hand down his face.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You were crying. Saying you missed me. That you needed me.” He pauses, eyes meeting yours, steady and unwavering. “What was I supposed to do, huh? Just leave you there?”

The breath punches out of you. Crying? Saying you missed him? Needed him?

That couldn’t be true. That can’t be true.

But your mind betrays you. A flash of his hands steadying you on the dance floor. His voice coaxing you into the alley. The warmth of his hand brushing yours.

Pieces fall together, but the picture is fractured, missing the crucial moments. And that’s what he’s counting on.

“I don’t…” Your voice cracks, a fresh wave of panic rolling through you. “I wouldn’t—”

“You did,” he says firmly. Not loud, but firm enough that it cuts through your protest. “You were falling apart, Y/N. I couldn’t just—” He stops, dragging his hand through his hair like he’s trying to collect himself. “I had to help you.”

Help you.

The bruises on your thighs burn like a brand.

“By bringing me here?” you snap, your voice rising. “By—by—” You stop yourself before the question comes tumbling out: Did you touch me?

His face hardens just slightly, enough to send a shiver skittering down your spine. “I wasn’t going to let you go home alone. Not like that. You don’t even know what could’ve happened.”

“What do you mean what could’ve happened?” Your voice cracks, pitching higher, panic seeping in. “What did happen?”

He holds your gaze, and for a moment, his expression softens again. “Nothing happened.”

The words should feel like a relief. They don’t.

“Nothing?” Your voice is small, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

“Nothing,” he repeats, stepping closer. Too close. “You needed me, Y/N. And I was there for you. Like I always have been.”

Always.

Your mind spirals, reaching for anything concrete, any moment from last night that you can grab onto. But it’s all a haze, smothered by the tequila and the smoke and him.

“I don’t…” You press a hand to your temple, the ache blooming there sharp and relentless. “I don’t remember asking to come back here.”

His hand reaches out, brushing against your arm, and you flinch without meaning to.

His eyes darken at that. “You’re scared of me now?”

You want to say yes. But the word lodges itself in your throat, too big to swallow, too dangerous to spit out.

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie.

“Then why are you acting like this?” His voice is soft, low, almost tender. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. I just—” He stops, his jaw clenching. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And now you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.”

He steps closer. You step back. The space between you feels like it’s shrinking, suffocating.

“Why am I here, Su-bong?” Your voice is stronger now, the edge of panic sharpening it. “Why the fuck was I in your bed?”

He tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting together like you’ve just said something unreasonable. “You wanted to be here.”

“No.” You shake your head, your chest tightening. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—” Your voice cracks, the words tangling in your throat. “I don’t even remember coming back with you.”

His expression doesn’t shift. “You were drunk,” he says simply. “You don’t have to make this a big deal.”

You laugh — bitter, sharp. “Not a big deal?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Not a big fucking deal? I don’t even know what happened, Su-bong. I don’t—” Your breath hitches, your stomach twisting violently. The next words catch in your throat, almost too heavy to force out. “Did we—”

You can’t say it. You can barely think it.

“Did we have sex?”

He doesn’t react right away. Not outwardly. But you catch it — the faint flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his gaze shifts to the side before finding yours again.

“Why would you ask me that?” His voice is steady, but there’s something too measured about it, like he’s rehearsed this answer in his head a thousand times.

“Because I don’t fucking know,” you snap, your hands trembling. They curl into fists at your sides, shaking with every ragged breath. “My underwear’s on backwards, Su-bong. I have bruises. And you’re acting—” You stop yourself, your throat tightening painfully. “You’re acting like you did something.”

His jaw tightens again, and this time his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He exhales slowly, dragging his hand through his hair.

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want,” he says finally, his tone low but clipped.

It’s not an answer.

It’s not a fucking answer.

“What does that mean?” Your voice rises, panic flaring again. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you wanted to come back with me,” he says, sharper now, a flash of frustration cutting through the veneer of calm. “You were all over me at the club, Y/N. I told you we shouldn’t—” He cuts himself off abruptly, his fingers raking through his hair again, the strands spiking in every direction. “But you wouldn’t let it go.”

Your stomach twists painfully, the nausea creeping back in full force.

“I wouldn’t let it go?” Your voice cracks, disbelief bleeding into every syllable. “You’re blaming me? You’re saying I—”

“I’m not blaming you.” He exhales sharply, his voice softening just slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself back in. “I’m saying you wanted this. You made that clear.”

“I don’t even remember!” Your voice breaks now, raw and jagged, splintering through the room. “How can I want something I can’t fucking remember?”

He steps closer, and this time you’re too stunned, too frozen, to move.

“Y/N.” His voice drops lower, almost pleading, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach for you. “You were drunk, yeah. But you weren’t—” He hesitates, his gaze flickering over your face. “You weren’t out of it. You knew what you were doing.”

The words settle over you like a lead weight, pressing down on your chest until it feels impossible to breathe. Your mind scrambles to piece together the night before, to fill in the blanks, but it’s all fog. Hazy flashes of neon lights and pounding music and his hand on your arm.

“I don’t—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight in your chest. “I don’t know what to believe.”

His expression softens slightly, his shoulders lowering as he steps closer again, closing the gap between you.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says, his voice coaxing, soothing. He reaches for your hand, brushing his fingers against yours.

You flinch.

The motion is small, instinctive. But he catches it, his gaze darkening for a fraction of a second before he carefully, deliberately pulls his hand back.

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” he murmurs, his tone taking on a faint edge of frustration again. “I tried to do the right thing, Y/N. I could’ve left you at the club. I could’ve let you go home alone. But I didn’t.”

He looks at you, his eyes steady and unwavering, and you hate how much they make your stomach twist.

“I stayed.” He takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne, mingling with the smoke and stale alcohol lingering in the room. “Because you needed me.”

You press your back against the wall, your hands gripping the hem of your dress so tightly it crumples in your fists.

“I don’t remember needing you,” you say, your voice small but sharp, each word cutting through the thick tension in the room.

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looks up again, there’s something different in his eyes. Something dark.

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why you’re here.”

The question hits like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

And in the silence that follows, he steps back, his expression shifting to something softer, more familiar.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice low, almost tender. “And I know you missed me too.”

“Just… stay.”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Stay.

You want to run. You want to grab your things and get out of this apartment, out of this nightmare, and never look back. But your legs won’t move. Your feet feel glued to the floor, weighed down by doubt and fear and something else—something softer, something that aches when he looks at you like this.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whisper.

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. But when he speaks, his voice is soft. Vulnerable.

“I know.” His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But I’m not the guy I was before, Y/N. I’m trying. I’m trying to be better.”

You hate how much those words hurt. How much you want to believe them.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” you say, your voice trembling. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You did,” he says firmly. “Maybe you don’t remember, but you did.”

The words cut through you like a blade, sharp and cold. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to believe him.

But the tequila haze clouds everything, blurring the edges of the truth.

“Just give me a chance,” he says, stepping closer again. “Let me prove it to you. Let me—” He stops himself, his voice catching. “Let me fix this.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his words pressing down on you, crushing.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper.

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away. His fingers are warm, steady, wrapping around yours like they belong there. Like they always have.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says again. His voice is so soft, so careful. “Just stay. Please.”

Your chest heaves, your breath shallow and uneven.

And then—

Your phone buzzes.

The sound cuts through the tension like a knife, sharp and jarring. You jerk your hand away from his, your heart leaping into your throat as you spin toward the nightstand.

Your phone is lying there, screen glowing faintly in the dim light. Ji-hye’s name flashes across the screen.

Your stomach twists violently.

Su-bong doesn’t move. He stands frozen in place, his gaze fixed on you. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to see whatever’s written on his face.

You grab the phone, your fingers trembling as you swipe to open the message.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:04 AM): You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

Your breath catches, your chest tightening painfully.

“Who is it?” Su-bong’s voice cuts through the silence, low and steady, but there’s an edge to it now.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Instead, you take a shaky step back, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, something dark and unyielding. “Who was it?”

“Ji-hye.” The name barely makes it out of your mouth, your voice cracking on the second syllable.

He hums, low and quiet. “What did she say?”

You glance down at the screen again, the words burning into your retinas. You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

You don’t know what to say.

What can you say?

“Y/N,” he says again, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, quieter, like he’s trying to keep you from bolting. “Talk to me.”

Your chest heaves, your breath coming faster now. “I need to go.”

The words feel weak, hollow, and you hate how they tremble as they leave your lips.

“Go where?” His question is quiet, but there’s a weight to it that makes your stomach turn.

“Away from here.”

The second the words are out, his expression shifts. The softness in his gaze hardens, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“If you walk out that door…” He trails off, his voice cutting off like he’s biting down on the rest of the sentence.

Your heart races, panic rising in your chest. “What?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never see me again.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs.

There’s a finality to them, an edge that cuts too deep. You don’t know what he means — if he’s talking about leaving your life or leaving altogether — but it doesn’t matter.

It scares you.

And he knows it.

His gaze stays locked on yours, unflinching, unwavering. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:06 AM): If you’re with him, just leave. I’ll come get you.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

Su-bong takes another step closer. “You don’t have to leave.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “We can talk. We can figure this out. But if you walk away now…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. The threat lingers in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Your fingers tighten around your phone, Ji-hye’s message flashing like a lifeline in your palm.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, pleading. “Stay.”

You look up at him, your chest heaving, your mind spinning.

And in that moment, you don’t know what scares you more; the thought of staying, or the thought of leaving.

725 notes · View notes

sunniques · 3 months ago

Text

— festive little freak !

cw/tw: stepcest, age gap, drugging, infidelity, daddy kink, cockwarming, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampies

a little christmas gift for you guys. thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading. minors do not interact.

Seungcheol licks his lips impatiently, practically squirming as he waits for the clock to hit midnight. The sleeping pills he slipped in his wife’s hot chocolate have taken effect long ago, and now all he has to do is wait until you’re ready to give him his gift. Apparently, you wanted him to open it right at midnight.

After what seems like forever, it’s finally time.

When Seungcheol goes downstairs, he sees you lying completely naked under the large tree in the living room. His cock twitches at the sight of you so beautifully displayed for him. The bright lights make your smooth skin radiate and have you looking so much more inviting than usual.

“You like your present, daddy?” You wonder as your hands slowly trail up your body.

Seungcheol grins at you. “Fucking love it, baby.”

It doesn’t take long for your stepdad to get as naked as you are, and as always, he wastes no time in plunging his thick cock into your wet hole. Your eyes roll all the way back in pleasure as Seungcheol starts to split you open on his cock. He fucks you hard and slow, loving how you quickly start to fall apart on his dick.

Seungcheol leans forward and sucks your taut nipple into his mouth. His hot tongue runs over the sensitive bud repeatedly until you arch into the motion and clamp down on his cock. Your mouth drops open as a wanton cry is pulled from your throat. The way your stepdad is nipping and biting your sensitive nipple has you clamping down on his big cock and coating it with your arousal. His hand plays with your other tit, tugging and pinching at the stiff peak until you’re writhing under him.

“Da-Daddy!” You moan out as your hips move to fuck his cock deeper into you.

Your stepdad releases the sensitive bud with a lewd pop and starts drilling his girthy cock into your pussy at a punishing rhythm. You cry out loudly, feeling every single inch of his hard dick. His leaking tip slams into your spongy cervix every time he snaps his hips, and you moan out for him like your mom isn’t upstairs sleeping.

Seungcheol plants needy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, wanting to decorate the skin with the deep affection he feels for you. His thrusts are deliciously brutal—a great contrast to the way his lips are delicately tracing the flesh on your neck. He’s so far gone that the only thing he can feel is your hot cunt wrapping perfectly around his throbbing cock.

Your stepdad is absolutely ravenous, but you love every second of it.

Juices gush from your pussy as his hips crash against yours. His heavy balls slap your ass as he spears you open mercilessly. It feels like he’s trying to get as deep into you as possible, and the mere thought has you creaming all over his big cock within seconds.

“Slutty little brat,” Seungcheol groans fondly, fucking his cock deeper into your spasming cunt. “Always so hungry for daddy’s cock.”

His laugh makes you whine since your brain feels like mush at this point. You know you’re completely cock drunk, but luckily your stepdad is just as pussy drunk.

“Cum inside me, daddy,” you mewl, ready to take his hot load. “Want it so bad.”

Seungcheol places a chaste kiss on your pouty lips. He can’t deny you anything, especially on such a special day. He keeps ramming his fat cock into you until he’s shooting ropes of thick, hot cum into your needy pussy. As usual, he fucks it back into you until you’re a writhing mess under him.

That’s how you spend the night, with your stepdad breeding your messy pussy until the only thing left on your mind is being filled again and again. By the time you two are done, his cock is covered with your orgasms and his own cum. At the end, he keeps his dick inside you to keep you plugged full of his seed.

You feel completely sated as you stare at the pretty lights on the Christmas tree.

“Did you like your present, daddy?”

Seungcheol loves how fucked out you sound. He pulls you closer as he buries his cock deeper inside you. The cute mewl you let out makes his cock twitch and throb with need all over again.

“Of course I did, baby.”

You stare at the pretty gift boxes and bags unseeingly, wishing the intimate moment you’re sharing with Seungcheol would last forever. To have him like this, nose settled into the crook of your neck as he softly caresses the back of your intertwined hand is everything.

“Maybe next year, it’ll only be us.”

Seungcheol grins into the soft skin of your neck, cock coming alive again at the mere idea.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. It will be.”

#seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #svt smut #svt x reader

1K notes · View notes

spookykoolkat · 10 months ago

Text

summer breeze | eddie munson 18+

wrote a drabble cus im just thinking about drugdealer!eddie at a party (ones that hes tired of going to) to sell and make money, but you take him completely off of his game once he notices you.

drugdealer!eddie x plus sized!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only! minors do not interact or get BLOCKED. pwp (sorta), eddie and reader are both in their early twenties (eddie is a year or two older than reader), flirting, p in v (protected pls wrap it up!), fingering, mentions of oral (fem receiving), descriptions of feminine fat bodies, itsyyy bit of body issues (reader isn't insecure just aware of her body), very light choking if you squint, dirty talk (i think hes filthy here), body worship, use of pretty girl, daddy, baby, sweetheart, etc lmk if i missed something.

please do not forget to read and educate yourself on the genocide in gaza! please do your daily clicks and donate to families in need for sudan, congo and palestine + more. https://arab.org/ scroll down on my page for resources and posts about palestine! it will always be free palestine and boycotting the show stranger things as there are three raging zionists on set! no longer taking requests for stranger things or tlou!

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

i definitely see eddie munson being the one that's invited to the party to make money, find customers, manage to provide the entire party with weed and other drugs people wanted. maybe he's not the most fun, given he was burnt out after his teen years from doing crazy shit like trying pills and psychedelics to skipping class to drive two towns over, drinking and partying to make up for a life time.

he's not there to necessarily party. he's there to make money, drink, and observe. he doesn't even really miss the partying, or the people. since he was the plug, it was only ever about business. how much can someone get, what can they get, for what price, thanks, have a good night. he didn't get much socialization done in his life right now, so his best bet was to just watch.

he took his place on the couch, somewhere in the clouded area of the living room of whoever's house he's in right now. it was almost deja vu for him.

eddie would be SUCH an observer. quiet, listening and watching to everyone and everything since he was always in the corner unless he was needed. so when his eyes scanned the room after taking a puff of his blunt, it wasn't odd that his eyes latched onto you first.

you were wearing your usual, tube top, fishnet and jean shorts that rode up your ass and hugged the dips of your hips and waist. i think eddie tried to stop looking at you, especially when you saw him staring from your spot where you poured yourself another drink. but even you catching him didn't make him have any shame.

he was checking you out unabashedly. he was staring at the way your tits squeezed against the fabric of the tube top, how your tummy poked out of your shorts because they squeezed into your curves, how the fishnets had holes in some spots on your legs probably from stretching over the width of your thighs.

i think eddie would definitely try to make a move on you, his confidence wasn't lost on him, but he would wait. and while he would wait, he would think about touching you, talking to you, maybe even talking you through it.

he was a freak.

he waited until you finally decided to dance with a few of your friends, getting up from his spot and mixing in between the bodies to get next to you. eddie wasn't a dancer. not in these settings, even he surprised himself.

the obsession was mutual. your hands couldn't stop touching him as you two danced, whispering little things in each other's ears.

"you're really fucking pretty, you know that? like, insanely pretty. i couldn't stop looking at you from across the room." his voice was all you heard even when the music tried to drown it out, he was the only one you could listen to.

"eddie right?" you asked in his ear and your voice was even sweeter than he thought. he just nodded and let his hands fall onto your hips.

"you think i'm pretty?" you asked, your eyes fluttering up at him and biting your lip.

eddie only put his hands on your waist and squeezed, pulling you into him and smiling as you both danced together. putting your hands on his chest as he moved his hands to the lower part of your back and dipping his finger tips into your shorts, he leaned down and whispered in your ear,

"more than pretty. can't even focus on my job when you're right there in front of me just begging for me to come and take you away."

your eyes flutters again, this time with your lips parted and small hitch in your throat.

it was the same expression you had that night, upstairs in the guest room as everyone partied below you when he pushed his fingers inside of your heat.

"oh, ooh baby," he would say as he watched your cunt suck his fingers in, coating him in your juices and making a mess over his hand.

"i-i'm, eddie, oh my god eddie," you groaned, jean shorts discarded and panties moved to the side as he played with your cunt.

his hands ripped the fishnets between your thighs, letting his fingers spread the thick of your cunt and press his finger pads onto the glistening pearl that made you flutter your eyes shut.

it was the same expression you gave when he pushed his length into your sopping heat, and grabbed onto every inch of skin he could. once he entered you after making you cum on his fingers, he got eager.

eddie pulled your top down and let your tits free, becoming even more obsessed you might end up having to put a restraining order on him. it turned out, eddie was a tit man. he played with your tits as he slid in and out of you, squeezing your pebbled nipples and teasing them. sucking on his fingers just to play with your nipples, grabbing your tits and pushing them together to watch them bounce as he fucked you.

he was in love.

you didn't know eddie much, but he took his time with you. even when the party seemed to get even more rowdy, he only fucked into you harder. his hips snapping against your thighs, now calves on his shoulders as he quickly grabbed a pillow and slid it under the small of your back.

"my fucking god, sweetheart, look at you," he said, slipping back into you and adding a stretch that added to your pleasure, "even fuckin' prettier like this, you know that? goddamn, i'm gonna fucking get addicted to this pussy,"

the wind had been knocked out of you, breathless and scrambling for something to say but without missing a beat eddie ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed your ankles, spreading your legs wide beside him to see you open for him.

"i, i, daddy please, i can't, too much, can't breathe," you could feel his cock in your throat, punching into you and making your legs twitch at his lace.

"just like that, pretty girl, hold yourself open like that, be good for daddy." he groaned, sitting on his knees to slide back into your gaping hole as you placed your hands on the back of your thighs.

"there we go, so fuckin' good, so pretty," he whispered to himself, watching as tears ruined your perfect makeup and sweat collected on your forehead and chest. you were ruined, aching and throbbing, still begging for him even when he was giving you what you wanted.

"please, please, so fucking good s' so fucking big," you said, out of breath as he moved to your liking.

he couldn't fuck you like that for long, not when he was watching the weight of your tits bounce and move to the rhythm of his thrusts, not when you begged for him, not when he looked at the way your legs pressed against your stomach that was so soft and round for him—now becoming his favorite part to touch as he lifts himself from his knees and putting his weight into your waist.

he got a good grip like this, you thought, feeling how his hands molded into the skin you bashed for so long just to fuck you deeper and more relentlessly.

it was when someone knocked on the door, asking for eddie, (after your second orgasm) when he decided to flip the two of you over so that his back was now against the random headboard of the bed and your thighs sat on top of his.

you were positioned at his tip, most of him sliding out after your orgasm pushed him out. you couldn't help but feel yourself drip onto his length as you looked at the state of him, hearing the man call for his friend outside of the door, and watching as eddie got lost in your curves and softness.

"fucking hell. goddamnit, look at you," he breathed, hands moving all over you, "this will never leave my mind. i'm telling you right now. gonna be thinking about this for fucking ever, thinking about this pretty fucking body on me,"

he was touching everything, all over you, squeezing parts of you you'd never though you'd let anyone see. kissing the stretch marks and moles and the extra flab of your arms and leaning you back to kiss the width of your tummy.

"sit down on me, baby, please, let me have it, let daddy have it, i've been real good for you, baby," he begged, whined, pressing the side of his face into your tits and gently suckling on the skin.

he was growing tiresome, feeling your hole clench around his weeping, red tip that ached for you. eddie didn't even realize he could throb this hard for anyone, or that he even wanted anyone as bad as he wanted you when he saw you. he didn't even know he could last as long as he did, not with you being right in front of him begging for him to fuck you.

you were beautiful, you had something about you that he couldn't take his eyes off of, something he knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about even if he tried.

"but, they're asking for you," you whimpered, fingers dragging through eddie's hair and fingernails scraping his scalp as he groped your tits and sucked on them. "the party, you have customers,"

he leaves kisses when he speaks again.

"the fuck does that matter, hm? as far as i'm concerned," he said and leaned back, watching the way your cunt looked so he could remember every detail. how juicy your cunt was, how he could palm it and rub your clit at the same time, how well your cunt wrapped around his cock when he gave everything for you to take,

"i got the prettiest, juiciest fucking pussy i've ever had in my fuckin' life right here about to sit on my cock, you think i'm gonna stop trying to make you cum so i can get a 20 dollar bill?" he scoffed, "absolutely fuckin' not. fuck that party. now let me fuck that pretty cunt baby, please, let me feel it again,"

he whimpered when he met your eyes, desperation for a nut especially like this, and you melted. you clenched around his tip and he winced as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. you were gasping at this point, trying to fight for air while you let your cunt take all of him until your clit was pressed against his thatch of hair.

"oh fuck, FUCK, fuck baby," he practically yelled, throwing his head back against the headboard and you couldn't help yourself. his hands were gripping your asscheeks so hard they left hand prints, pulling and spreading them apart just to leave slaps to imagine how your ass would jiggle with it.

it left him moaning even more.

your lips attached to his neck and kissed everywhere you could, licking his pale skin and sucking on his neck and chest. you left hickies where you could. the soberness in you wanted him to remember this, to be looked at so people can know someone fucked him this good and it was you.

the drunk in you just wanted to claim him as yours. let everyone know he was fucking you. and only you. or so you convinced yourself to think.

as you buried your face into his neck and suckled and licked, your cunt clenched around him and slowly you lifted your hips up, just to slam them back down and make lewd noises fill the room. his moaning was turning you on even more, knowing his was sounding fucked out like this because of you.

"eddie, yo what the fuck? i'm tryin' to get some weed man! come on!" the obnoxious voice was drowned out by eddie's moans and whimpers as you decided to speed your bouncing up.

you did it for a hot minute, rolling your hips and bouncing your ass on your knees as you took him in with every lift of your hips. he was so much more filling this way, so much more bigger and reaching places it felt like was your stomach.

"eddie, e-eddie, p-p-please, eddie," you were crying into his neck when you whined and it only made him release a guttural groan as he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body down to his.

"eddie, what, wh-" you tried as he fixed positions, planting his feet and raising his hips before continuously slamming up into your cunt.

"oh, oh, oh my, f-fucking, mmphf, my," you really tried, to make sense of what he was doing until your mind went blank, until you felt the head of his pink cock hitting your cervix over and over again until it began to mix pleasure with pain.

it was delicious, it was everything, and yet the man was still at the door. "eddie, eddie," you moaned, sort of forgetting about everything else but the man ramming into your sore hole, you corrected yourself quickly as he fucked you harder, "daddy!"

"woah, hey, are you, are you fucking in there?? eddie!!! my man!!" the man cheered through the door but to you it was muffled.

you couldn't hear anything but the messiness of your cunt, the squelching, the groaning and crying, the moaning and whimpering, his words making you tighten around him.

"take that fucking dick, baby, take what daddy's giving you, yeah?" he growled in your ear as he kept his pace up, your tears hitting his shoulders and your whines being muffled by his chest.

"i know baby, you're taking me so well, being so good, feel so fucking good,"

"cmon baby, let me have another one, cum again for daddy,"

"next time i'm gonna bury my fucking face between those thighs and let your ride my tongue, just wanna taste my pretty girl the right way," he was breathless, and listening to you cry from his words and beg after every sweet nothing he couldn't hold it anymore.

"get it man!" again. eddie was almost getting pissed off. actually. he was pissed off.

this random man was able to hear the way you sounded just for eddie, the way you called for him and said his name, the way you cried when his cock hit your spot over and over again in this angle.

"get the fuck out of here, fuckface!" eddie screamed angrily away from your ear, only making you clench harder as he then flipped you to lay on your side.

his cock was still inside of you, only now he laid behind you in the same position and lifted your leg by the thickness of your thigh and held it there as he lifted his thigh and slipped further inside of you.

"m' the only one that should hear you like this, not him, nobody else. look at that," he says in your ear as he uses his other hand to point your head downwards to see the way his cock slammed into your cunt over and over again, barely being able to see it over your tummy, "see how she's crying for me? god i wish you could fuckin' see yourself, how fuckin' pretty you are,"

"daddy, daddy, fuck, fuck me, fuck my pussy please, make me feel good," you managed to get out as he moved his hand from your hair to your throat, forcing you to throw your head back against his.

eddie puts his chin right at the top of your head, somehow seemingly bigger than you and crowding you as he kept his pace.

"touch yourself, princess, touch that pretty little clit for daddy, daddy's gonna make you cum all over his big fucking cock, how's that sound, pretty girl? you like that?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

it only grows deeper when he sees your weak hand move to your messy cunt, finding your clit and rubbing firm circles into her. eddie can feel you clench and drip onto him, covering his cock in your cum and juices as you reach your climax for the third time.

you didn't know eddie. he didn't really know you. but in this moment, holding you to his chest as you leaves kisses in your hair and on your cheek sweetly, fucking you roughly and messily, palm still at your throat.

you were crying by now, tears slipping down just for eddie to dry them back up.

"i know, i can feel you baby, can feel you gettin' close for me," he boasts, his own thrusts getting sloppy and missing the rhythm as he struggles to hold his own release back.

"so good, feels so good daddy," you gasped, voice dry and strained, "gonna make, fuck fuck, baby i can't, too much,"

"uh-uh baby, what were you gonna say? gonna make you what? cum? gonna make this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock again?" eddie's balls pulled taut, fighting back his orgasm until you clenched hard one last time and yelled out.

"yes! yes! yes! make me cum, you're making me cum, i'm cumming, daddy please," you shouted, body shaking in his hold as you move your hands to grab at his wrist and try to wriggle out of his grasp, his thrusts becoming too much too fast.

"oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, fuck," he whimpered, wincing and releasing a string of moans and groans as he cums in the condom; desperately wishing he could've painted your walls. you were still shaking in his grasp, whimpering when eddie pulls out of you and moves his hands to fix your hair.

eddie moves you to lay on your back as he sits up on one arm and admires you, the lipstick smeared and eyeshadow messy, eyeliner running and your face makeup staining whatever pillows were there.

eddie wasn't the type to think he was going to call back. thats for sure. he wasn't a dating man, a 'see you more than once in a year' man. eddie was confused for the most part, not knowing where this was gonna go next depending how he went about this last part of the interaction. he especially wasn't a girl. not that girl who asked what we are on the first hook up. not the girl who day dreamed about someone when they weren't near.

he wasn't a girl. he especially wasn't that girl.

you opened your eyes to him staring with a lopsided smile, scanning over your face and chest.

"what?" you smiled, breathlessly and sleep pulling at your eyes.

he shakes his head with a small smile and drowns out the music playing from downstairs, watching you scan his face.

"so, are you gonna call me after this? when can i see you again?"

1K notes · View notes