#raven writes

[murderofravens]

DUSK TILL DAWN

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 6.5k

BABY I'M RIGHT HERE & FLY ME TO THE MOON POSTED!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore any mistakes.

as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.

it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.

you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?

but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.

then there's the first game�� you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.

since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.

you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.

"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"

"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.

"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."

that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."

you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.

"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."

"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."

you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.

"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."

"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you previously saw.

"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."

he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"

he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."

the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.

this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.

001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.

"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"

"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"

"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"

"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"

"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"

that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.

"what did you just say?"

"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."

he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."

since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.

before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.

"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."

you huff bitterly. you know what he means.

"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."

"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.

"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."

"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.

"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.

the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.

that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.

"are you sleeping?" you whisper.

he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"

you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."

he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.

"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"

he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.

you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.

"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.

you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.

you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.

"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.

you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."

when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.

as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."

you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.

"really?" you ask hopefully.

"really." he says kindly.

you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."

you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.

"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."

he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.

breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.

"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."

001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."

"will i?"

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."

he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"

you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."

his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."

your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"

you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."

he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.

you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.

today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.

your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.

when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.

the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?

you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.

"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.

player 001.

your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.

he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"

"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.

"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"

his words make you want to cower in on yourself.

"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."

"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.

he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."

you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.

"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."

he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."

you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."

"call me young-il."

you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"

you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."

he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.

he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.

the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.

it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.

the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.

young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?

"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you two. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.

the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"

instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.

"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.

you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.

thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?

this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.

"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"

you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.

you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.

you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."

you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"

he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."

you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.

you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.

you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.

your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"

you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.

the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.

the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.

young-il killed someone.

"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"

you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.

the doors opened, and the game finished.

while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.

he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.

the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.

one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.

if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"

their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"

player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."

"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"

the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.

player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.

"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.

you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.

456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.

you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.

"you're not eating."

you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."

he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."

you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."

he blinks, nodding.

"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."

your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"

"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."

his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."

you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."

"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"

you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."

he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."

it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."

you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'

some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.

neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.

you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.

his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.

"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.

your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.

he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.

"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.

you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.

"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."

you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.

the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.

soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"

and the next game begins.

A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.

tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies

[foggysilverfeathers]

Everyone on Hermitcraft knows redstone dust is unbelievably incredible. Everyone on Hermitcraft know redstone is unbelievably dangerous.

Sure, it’s behind every fake decorative door and the key to making a base really shine, but they’re careful. They know the risks. Xisuma is so paranoid that he never takes his mask off, even when it’s safe. Tango makes sure to never have exposed redstone wires, and keeps any open lines tucked away in a closed-off sterile area. Even Impulse has started wearing a respirator.

But Mumbo?

Mumbo’s a special case.

(Sure, inhaling it is akin to inhaling slightly toxic dust, but that’s never stopped him! Everyone else is just being dramatic. And it’s not like anybody has ever died from it, either!)

(Not yet, anyway.)

(And sure, his hair is a bit greyer than the last time he checked, but that’s natural! People age! Salt and pepper hair looks good on him, anyway! He isn’t bothered!)

(Sometimes, it scares him. The lengths he’ll go.)

(It whispered to him yesterday. It told him to kill Gem.)

(Kill the Constellation.)

(That’s what it had said. But Mumbo had somehow instinctively understood, and had killed her.)

(Of course, she respawned. A bit surprised, and a bit wary at his newfound strength and almost inhuman speed, but unharmed.)

(After all, she had a bed. He hadn’t gone as far as break that. Part of him had still known that would have been a bad idea.)

(He’d avoided redstone after that. It was angry with him for disobeying It, after all, but even from a distance he felt It. Red dust swirled in his veins and his breaths came in short bursts. Despite everything, he found himself going back.)

(He couldn’t help himself. It was like that deadly exposure was a drug, and he was fully under its power.)

It didn’t hesitate, and soon that strangely comforting creaking whisper came from the darkness.

Kill the Sun.

“You mean Grian?” Again, part of him flinched at how he instinctively knew who It referred to, but that part was soon washed away. It felt good talking to it. The glow of it ebbed and flowed, pulsing in time to his heartbeat.

The dust was shifted slightly by a nonexistent wind, than settled again. Mumbo tasted metal and blood at the back of his throat.

Yes. G-r-i-a-n. He sees too much.

It flickered again, and Mumbo felt one hand drift forward to touch it. He didn’t really know why, but part of him wanted to.

He ẇ̵̫̹a̷̜̺̮̾̾͆̒̌̓ţ̵̮̖̙̲͖̬̓c̷͈̽̔h̵̠̚̚e̴̮͙̝͋͛̏̒��́͘s̴͓̼͚͍̹̈́͛͠ͅ.

[ravensmadreads]

Unhinged totally unasked for thots about Riding Pedro Boys

Authors Note: So this came from me chugging entirely too many energy drinks and then projectile vomiting in Taylors inbox. I'd like to warn you that: English isn't my first language, I have never written smut before, I'm not a real writer, and also I'm trash goblin levels of unhinged about this. That being said; Enjoy and uhh. Forgive me Fandom

JAVIER PEÑA

Javier Pena doesn't let you do it.

Don't @ me LISTEN! (YES I STARTED OFF WITH A CONTROVERSIAL THOT FUCKING BITE ME.)

That man does not have the time, or the patience, or the good sense (the sense is at the other end) to let you ride. He needs the control okay? And sometimes it's not even about the control ! It's the frustration. It piles and piles and piles until he snaps. He needs to do. He will bend you over and work his frustration away until he has had enough and you let him because he needs it. (And lets be real he makes it worth your while every single time)

BUT. When he finally fucking retires, and gets a ranch, and breaths air not tinged with the smells of death, cigarettes and guns for the first time in however many years, and maybe drinks some fucking water, he takes you out on a date. He fumbles through the entire thing, panics because he thinks he blew it, still manages to get you home, gets ridden for the first time in like 6 years, and can't walk straight for an entire day and stammers every time someone asks him why.

JAVIER GUTIERREZ

Javi G loves it. He loves watching you. Gets all puppy dog wide eyed (remember the pool scene face??? Thats it.) and you have to really focus because his look of straight up wonder and awe and bright eyed eagerness makes you want to cry. He's panting like he's running a marathon, running his big hands EVERYWHERE he can reach. He makes you feel worshipped and adored and so very very loved. Thanks you after. For being so amazing, and so wonderful to him, and thanks the universe that he found you. Cause he's sap. You definitely cry after.

JOEL MILLER

(Watch me be controversial again) Joel is fucking tired okay? He has old man bones and creaky joints and his back is achy. Patrol was agony, Jesse wouldn't shut up the entire time, and Tommy was giving him shit, and he has no energy to drill anyone into the mattress (as much as we all want him to). He's just plain tired. He likes you on top. Likes it slow (like a roast chicken on a sunday slow). Enjoys the gradual build up, likes to lean back, watch with half open eyes as you take your time. Wants to indulge in something beautiful at the end of the world, and that something is you. He makes sexy grunting noises, mutters a whole lot of praise ~and filth~ and just y'know. Savours it. 🫠🫠🫠 savours you. 🫠

DIETER BRAVO

Dieter is a maniac. (Leave him alone he has adhd!!) He can't still still for the life of him so you best believe he changes positions 6 times and the only way you're getting to ride is if you're also putting some weight elsewhere. To hold him down! You squeeze his neck once and he MELTS. INSTANTLY. Loses all sense. Starts babbling and whimpering and making extremely pathetic noises. Will definitely buck up and whine. PRAISES YOU. BEGGING. LOUD NOISES.

MAX PHILLIPS

Max is a heathen. He just likes watching you bounce. That's it. That's the post :p

MARCUS PIKE

Marcus P is a romantic. He will be doing the whole "lean forward and try to get kisses in between" while also "moaning and maintaining eye contact" and he's holding you so tight , squeezing your sides and also muttering declarations of love. About how he wants a life with you, and a family, and a home, and a future. How he's going to "make you so happy baby, I promise I will, I swear to you". Doesn't let you off for from on top of him for atleast a half hour after; kissing all over your face and rubbing your back and petting your hair "I meant all of it sweetheart. I want all of you." shsbzgwgsvsg ilovehimsomuch and I've only ever seen gifsets of this man what is wrong with me

MARCUS MORENO

Marcus M is A MENACE. He wears his stupid glasses, and has his stupid shirt off, while he does stupid taxes/meeting plans in bed. You keep throwing side glances and getting increasingly wound up and he just has this gentle smirk but he's mostly ignoring you. You sidle up to him and maybe start kissing his jaw, laying gentle pecks down his neck, and he's still fukcungh working "Baby. I need to finish this. I'm sorry, you need to wait." But that smirk is still there and it's driving you crazy and maybe you keep kissing until you reach his *coughs* and then you're working on getting him interested. You can still hear the fucking pen scratching though and so you go deeper, and he raises an eyebrow. "be good now honey" You're settling in his lap and he has you sitting there until he has finished his paperwork with you whimpering and trying not to squirm because you want to be good you really do and you know he'll make it so much better but he feels so good and when he's finally finally done you get to move but you're so wound up you can't pull yourself together enough to find a rhythm and you're nearly in tears and he has to grip your sides and murmur instructions in your ear and help you until you're satisfied and just when you think he's done, and about to flip you over, he adjusts his grip and starts moving from underneath you until you're crying and he's finished ~which doesnt happen until you've come 2 more times~

DAVE YORK

Dave. Oh my gosh Dave. Dave is a strict dom if ever there was one. With him it's a punishment. He'll tell you to hold off until he's done which is freaking impossible with how deep he gets, and how he likes to warm up his hands on your butt while you're trying desperately to hold onto that last thread of control. He is muttering absolute filth, holding your arms behind your back with one hand while the other is either laying smack after smack or rubbing you furiously all the while he's got the smuggest look. "Don't you dare baby. Be a good girl now. Listen and obey for once". But you can't because he's not fair and he knows it. And when you do finally fall apart he's clenching his teeth trying to hold back himself and his hands are holding you up as you gasp his name like it's the only word you know. He's running his hands down your back and kissing you softly and helping you catch your breath and when you finally get your heart to stop pounding and look up at him, he's watching you with this dangerously soft smile and he goes "oh you're in for it now aren't you honey?" and kisses your forehead while you try not to whimper.

FRANKIE MORALES

Frankie is a soft boy. He loves it. Craves it. He loves giving up control. Wants you to tie him up and have your way until he has no thoughts left in that pretty little head. He is swearing like an absolute sailor the entire time, calling you ma'am, begging to be released so he can kiss you and touch you, absolutely nearly breaks the head board once he was so desperate. Wants to be edged but also is the biggest WIMP about it. Will pout and swear and beg and plead but then want you to deny him again. Will definitely be mumbling absolute nonsense once you're done. Needs all the aftercare. Blushes pink when he gets it. Wraps himself around you like a HUGE koala bear after. ~and returns the edging favour 3 times over when he gets in his Captain Francisco Morales Mood~

JACK DANIELS

BONUS TWO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT and tumblr won't let me put gifs for:

Jack makes every single cowboy joke known to man. You have to put your hand on his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. His eyes get all glassy when you do. He puts his hat on top of your head and busies himself in your neck (dual benefits: A. He shuts up and B. HICKIES) will definitely drag you on top of him in his Bronco (he likes to show off) will pull up on the side of the road almost 70% of the times you drive together. Bites you over your clothes. Loves the way you grab desperately at this leather jacket. Definitely makes you bend over and 'clean up the mess sugar' before driving like the hounds of hell are after him all the way back home and doing it all over again because "we gotta make you a mama now love"

PERO TOVAR

Pero got married after he came back and retired as a sell sword. His wife is a soft but sassy thing who's a little (read: not at all, she returns his snark twice over) intimidated by him but also thinks he's a good man because he saved her village from raiders. She has seen him grumble and snark at but then also share his food with the orphans who works at the village inn. She's inexperienced (let me live my victorian life) and he doesn't really think he deserves her but also he's not so much an idiot to say no to someone like her. She's the village "healer" and he met her when he got stabbed by one of the raiders (arm wound: not serious.) He has to teach her. She gets shy and flustered, which is a total 180 from her sassy self, and Pero loves it. She makes the most amazing sounds that have him thinking that maybe he did something right in his life to end up in her arms. She wants to please her new husband and asks her married friends for advice and they tell her about this new position. So she asks him, stuttering and tripping over words, if she could try something she heard about? From a friend? She straddles him and Pero loses his mind. He's closing his eyes and clenching his jaw so hard and she's whimpering in the most DELICIOUS way and he's trying so hard to hold back and let her take her pace and she's so worried "am I not doing it right?" Pero has to take 3 deep breaths before he's centred enough to answer and then he helps her. Puts his hands on her hips to guide her. Puts one of her hands on his shoulder "steady now pequenita" and puts the other low on her belly and presses in so she can feel him. Loves the way she cries out. Bends forward to leave little marks everywhere he can reach. She's scrambling at his chest, leaving nail marks he loves, and finally grabbing his hair and pulling until he groans. And when they're both done and sated and sweaty he kisses her, looks her in the eye and winks. "I'm going to have to go thank your friend now, mi esposa."

DIN DJARIN

Din and you dont have time. The razor crest is finally in hyperspace, you got shot at for the 50th time in 2 weeks, (because Murphys Law seems to be the only law Mando never breaks), you're exhausted, sweaty, and the giggly green monster of chaos only made you chase him down from the top of a weapons cabinet twice before he finally decided to take a nap. You're frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower, and a nap, but also you can't get the image of Mando fighting out of your head. Before you know it, the hormones have taken over and you're attacking him in the pilot seat. The bucket is off (I refuse to look at my own reflection in the tin cans helmet while we do the do), he's got you arching into him, your shirt is half torn from the top because Din refuses to wait for "so many fucking buttons Meshla" the gloved hand is squeezing the back of your neck, his mouth is on your chest, his other hand (you only managed to get one glove off) is splayed out on your back. You're riding him like you're trying to break him and his thigh holster? thing (do i look like i can figure out what they're called?) is digging marks into your skin but you're too turned on to care. It's frantic, it's messy, you're PRAYING the tiny green menace stays asleep as you do your best to muffle your sounds. The refresher isn't big enough for a round two, (you still do your best), and your legs feel like jelly, when you finally pass out; curled up on top of the human space heater while he hums Mando'a in your ear.

*****

TAGGING: @chronically-ghosted (you are a menace but ily)

@fuckyeahdindjarin (here I go trying that writing thing again, stop me pls)

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Inspired by this tumblr post by @hawnks 

Subject: JJK, Satoru Gojo

Title: Hate Me Tomorrow (Omega!Gojo x GN Alpha!Reader)

Trigger Warning: Dub con, omega verse, scenting, size difference, biting/marking, obsessive/toxic behavior, self-hatred, knotting, knot riding, begging, heat/mating cycles, grinding 

The sweet, musky scent of Gojo's cologne and sweat enveloped you. Even the giant stuffed beta fish you were snuggling had no scent but his. His pillow fort was surprisingly spacious, granted, Gojo was nearly twice your size so there was a lot of him to fit. But being in here with him was nearly suffocating, and not just because of the light whiffs of omega scent rolling off of him or because he'd practically ripped off your jacket to snuggle into. 

He'd called you suddenly, saying that he needed to spend time with someone. It made sense. Geto just died and there were only so many people who were willing to pick up the phone for Gojo, and even fewer he'd actually call. Especially when it was a secret he was an omega, pretending to be an alpha and you were an alpha pretending to be a beta. 

The two of you were decent friends, hanging out after teaching at Jujutsu Tech for a drink or a quick round of gossip. He was one of the few people who knew you were an alpha and he an omega, an unusual kinship formed but it was never anything more. More importantly, you knew about his relationship with Geto. You couldn't say no. 

Which was why your thigh was snug against his, smartphone balanced on your knee, his favorite plushie shoved into your arms. His head on your shoulder breathes fast but not uneven. It seemed like he was trying not to cry. Poor guy. The winter fashion review didn't seem to be helping him calm down at all. Nor any work gossip. You wanted to stay and help, but it was getting late. If he really wanted to, he could just pin you down, sometimes that thought scared you.

Gojo curled onto his side, struggling closer to you, your jacket wrapped in his hands like a security blanket. 

It felt wrong to leave, but you needed to take care of yourself, too. "Hey, bud, I need to get going. Are you going to be alright by yourself?" 

Gojo buried his face in your neck, silent. He leaned his weight into you, just enough to make it clear he didn't want to be alone. 

Fuck. "I'm sorry. I'll come first thing tomorrow. We'll call out from work and go to the city or--" 

His teeth scraped your neck. Possessive, dominant. Alpha behavior. Before you knew what was happening, he was ripping off your scent suppressor, inhaling like he hadn't been breathing for hours. Alpha pheromones leaked from your skin, invading your nose. "Gojo?" 

Your stomach turned as your instincts awakened, the need to comfort an omega struggling with your own needs for autonomy. Your fingers dug into the beta fish plushie, filled with his scent. 

He reached for his own scent blocker and you suddenly realized what was going on. With his neck practically right under your nose, his omega scent was free. And not just that, he was going into heat. The pillow fort was a nest and this was a trap. Gojo was primed to breed and he was going to use you to fuck away his pain. "This isn't healthy, Gojo, listen to me!" 

But his patch was already off and the omega scent of him in your lungs, filling you, lighting every nerve on fire. Your cock swelled under your clothes, reacting to his breedable scent with vigor. 

Gently, Gojo took the plush and pushed you onto your back, yanking off his pants as his pale face filled with color. His bandages were already slipping, the iridescent shine of his six eyes laser-focused on the swelling at your crotch. He crawled on top of you, already tugging off his shirt. "Just for today, please." He panted, his thin but muscular chest heaving as if just sitting here breathing was a near-impossible task. 

His weight lowered onto your cock and you gasped, feeling his wetness through your clothes. His heat was so pleasant, feverish but warm, empty, and yearning. Blood pulsed lower and you gulped. 

Slowly, Gojo rocked back and forth, moaning loudly each time your shaft met his clit. His back arched, nipples swollen and pink, and standing at attention. "Please," he begged. "Just me just for tonight. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please, ah, Y/N. Please, I wanna cum. Let me have it inside me." 

It was getting harder and harder to think straight. He felt so good, the need to fill him up, let him fuck himself stupid on your cock growing. It would be better if you let him, a voice whispered. Another said, it's what you were made for. Just let him. 

"Gojo," you gasped. You reached for him, tried to make him stop so you could think, but his fingers intertwined with yours and he was moving faster now, his breathy moans coming faster. His skin was so soft and warm, filling you with his heat until you thought you might burst. Blood pulsed in your cock, his pussy was sucking at you through your clothing. He wanted you so badly. You wanted... What did you want to do again? You had to leave but why? 

"Y/N, I'm cumming." His hips rocked faster, tummy rolling with downy white hair covered in sparkling slick. "I'm cumming on your alpha cock." He let go of your hands to lay across your stomach, his head buried in your neck to take in your scent, his own making your head spin as pleasure threatened to burst out of your cock. His teeth met your skin, nibbling and biting gently then hard enough to bruise until he let out a long, throaty groan as he came. 

Instantly, your clothes were soaked, his hot slick smothered on your member. If you weren't fully erect before, you were now. 

Still panting, Gojo lifted himself up just enough to tug your cock free from your clothing. He didn't wait, spreading his pussy with his fingers as he sank down on your tip. Slick gushed down your shaft as he cried out, swallowing your swollen head into his heat. You bit back a groan, fingers digging into the blankets making up the fort. 

"You feel so big," Gojo moaned. "So good. I've only done this with Geto, so I'm going to have to start slow." He sank a little further, impossibly tight and hot and wet. "Feels so good," he huffed, rolling his hips and finally, sinking all the way down your shaft.

Your knot throbbed, seeming to sense that an omega was speared on your length. 

Gojo humped himself on your cock, needy moans slipping from his mouth each time his hips met yours. "Feels so good, Y/N. I've only felt Geto like this before." 

Before you could respond he pulled back to his full height, six eyes glowing in the warm darkness of the pillow fort. He spread his lower lips as he lifted himself up, clear slick drooling from his hole. His pretty, pink, clit a shining pearl at the apex of his thighs. "You did this to me. Look how wet you made me." Slowly, Gojo slid back down, pushing the head of your cock against his cervix. Again, he kept himself exposed and rose up, only to slurp your length right back down to the knot, aiming this time higher, into something spongy and mouth-wateringly soft.

"G-Gojo, I know you miss him but you can't--" 

He raised himself up and dropped down, knocking a groan from you both. "I think about him a lot," Gojo panted. "About how empty he left me. In my soul. In my body. So please, let me fix one of those. Just for now. It's okay if you hate me, but I need you now more than I've needed anyone." 

Gojo whined, flushed and excited. "Right there." He slammed back down on you with a stomach-churning squelch right into that soft sweet spot. "So good." He was riding you now, using you like a dildo to get himself off, his delicate fingers rolling his clit in circles. You couldn't take your eyes off him. "I want you to cum inside me, okay? Fill me up with your seed. Help me feel less empty." 

Pleasure gathered deep inside you, begging to come out as your knot swelled. Shit. You shouldn't. He was your coworker, your friend. But omegas needed alpha seed, he needed reprieve from his heat and you were the only one he could call--because the person he really wanted was dead. 

That thought shattered your high, grounding you back in the moment. "Gojo, I know you're still mourning Geto, but this isn't healthy for you." 

Gojo settled on your stomach, chest heaving. His hands snuck under your shirt, impossibly soft and warm in your skin. Your cock twitched inside him, wanting him to squeeze and milk you dry but that wasn't what a good friend would let him do. 

"I killed him, you know." His hands curled into fists by your hips. "He left me after taking my virginity and when he came back, I killed him on Christmas Eve because he didn't give me another choice. I'm awful, aren't I? Shoko hates me. She won't say it but I know she does. I hate me, too." The blue of his eyes shone as tears gathered, threatening to fall down his red flushed cheeks. 

"Shoko doesn't hate you." You said soothingly. You sat up, so much smaller than him, and ran your hands through his hair. "It was an impossible situation, we all think you did the right thing. We--" 

He didn't let you finish your thought. Gojo grabbed you by your shirt and slammed his mouth onto yours, his tongue filling you as if he could make you swallow every hateful thing he'd ever thought about himself. "If you don't hate me," he breathed against your lips, his spit wet and warm as it dribbled down your chin, "then cum inside me." He rolled his hips, reigniting the electric pleasure in your core. "Please. You can hate me tomorrow, but right now, I can't let you go." 

The pulsing softness of his pussy contracted, squeezing you so tightly you thought you might burst. You gasped for breath when Gojo released you and then did it again. You wanted to move. You wanted to stop. You wanted... 

Gojo pulled down the front of your shirt, rolling his hips roughly, chasing his end against your cock. He bit your chest, hard enough to bruise, marking you like an alpha. And that was enough to come undone. 

You exploded inside of him, eyes rolling back as your core emptied against his sweet spot. Your hips rolled up into his and you shivered as you felt your knot pop into his pussy, slick sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets. 

You struggled to breathe as Gojo laid himself on top of you, breathing fast. He rocked his hips against your knot, already trying to drag another orgasm out of himself. His arms slid under your back, pulling your chest to his. "You're all I have now, Y/N," he whispered, "so please, don't leave.”

[r4vn]

—THE RABBIT AND THE FOX

farleıgh x reader

w.c: 3,664

disclaimers: nsfw, 18+, rough sex, overstimulation, dominant!farleigh, use of titles (sir/ma'am), primal play, sensitive!reader, pinning down, chasing, 'iicyify', predator and prey, teasing, fingering, groping, unprotected p in v (stay safe out there guyz), crying, aftercare!!, hot and steamy smut

–synpopsis: you can't sleep one particular evening due to arousal, and you think your friend may be able to help. you wander the saltburn home to find farleigh, and to help you satisfy your submissive urges.

a/n: helloo!! im super excited for yall to read this one bc its based on the stories like the turtle and rabbit or the fox and the hare where one is "being chased" yk? and so i merged it with the sex game called "if i catch you i fuck you." i've seen a few times on the internet lol. editing will come later as always for tyos. I HOPE YOU ENJOY. ♡♡

「divider by @/ cafekitsune」

you were staying at your friend farleigh’s, home for the summer. the only people in the saltburn estate were you and him, and his cousin venetia but she was gone for the weekend. farleigh inherited the home from his aunt and uncle when they passed away. his cousin, felix ran away to the states so farleigh gladly took it. you stayed in the room next to him. he was fairly sweet for his sassy personality and it lured you in even more.

it was late in the evening, around 1am and you couldn't sleep. it was painfully quiet in the house. you were bothered, heavily bothered. your hand was in your pajama pants and you touched yourself with one hand, the other on your mouth trying to be as quiet as possible. you flickled your clothed pearl, causing your hips to buck occasionally.

"fuck." you whispered hastily. this wasn't enough, you needed more. you wanted farleigh, needed him, and you were going to get him. you'd been seducing him all week by wearing the shortest clothing to bed or grazing your back against his front when you walked past him.

when you finally had enough, you took your hand out from your pants quietly and opened your door to exit. you walk towards farleighs room and slowly tried the doorknob and saw it was open. you walked in as quietly as possible just in case he was sleeping, but to your surprise he wasn't in bed. he wasn't in the room at all actually.

you knitted your brows and looked in the bathroom, it being empty also. exiting his room, you wander silently around the house, thinking about where the brunette could be present. you checked the library, then the tv room. you were getting restless now, you wanted to jump his bones. you decided to check the kitchen, thinking maybe he was hungry and not looking for a different setting to smoke a cigarette.

and as hoped, there he was. as you walked into the doorway of the kitchen, farleigh was standing next to the marble island, smoking a cigarette and eating a couple of pieces of chocolate. you chuckled, catching his attention with a startle.

"jesus, you scared the shit out of me." farleigh mumbled, slowly smiling as he took another puff. you walked over to him slowly, hopping onto the counter. you swung your legs gently as the mere sight of him made you develop a second heartbeat.

"wouldn't of scared you if you were in your room and not wandering this big mansion of a home." you shrugged with a smile. farleigh stayed quiet, only diverted his eyes to you. he studied you, briefly scanning your whole person before half smiling.

"well," he inhales the cigarette smoke deeply before sighing. "i'm here, you found me. now what do you want?"

"you." you responded casually, taking a piece of chocolate. it immediately melted on your tongue, giving you satisfaction as you stared at farleigh with low eyes. he was subtly flustered, stiff and gingerly flushed in the face at your reply.

"you– ahem– want me to do what?" he continued, leaning on the fridge to face you. he held eye contact, making sure not to look at anything but you.

"i want you to do me." farleigh didn't say anything, clearly getting more tense. he finished the rest of his cig in one breath, leaning off the fridge to walk towards you. he stood right in front of you, [e/c] eyes mixing with his umber brown ones. no words were exchanged as he leaned over to place his cigarette bud in the small dish next to you.

"what do you want me to do with you?" he asked in a lower tone. your stomach flipped, wanting to take him right here on this marble counter. he was so tall that even on the counter you still matched his height. he slid in between your legs and you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"i want you," you kissed his cheek once. "to play a game with me."

"what kind of game sweetheart?" he mumbled, turning to the side to give you full access to kiss him wherever. you smiled against his skin, going lower to his neck. you left a wet, slow kiss, causing him to suck in a slow breath through his teeth. his hands gently gripped your thighs, scooting you closer into him.

"a game of 'if i catch you i fuck you.' i run and you try to find me." farleigh chuckled, causing a chill to run down your spine. you looked up at him, biting your lip. you were already ready to climb him like a tree but you restrained yourself for the thrill. you gently pushed him away to hop off the counter, slowly backing up away from him to run.

"count to 100, aloud." you instructed, farleigh smirked, standing where he was as he crossed his arms.

"1..2..3..4.." you giggled and quickly made your exit from the kitchen, also mentally counting yourself. you trembled just a little because you were nervous. but you loved the adrenaline rushing through you.

"18..19..20.."

you jogged across the halls trying to get on the farside of the mansion, faintly listening to fsrleigh's counting. you decided to head for the the second floor and made your way up the stairs.

"36..37..38.."

now, you began to slow your breathing and decided you were far enough. you wandered around the second floor as you heard the brunette count. you adored the style of the house with its intricate wooden carved door frames and furniture. even the old wallpaper. you briefly think about farleigh pinning you down into the couch and ramming into you. the thought caused the heat between your legs to tingle. you whimpered as you imagined it.

"61..62..63.." you slid down the wall in the hallway and reached into your pants again. you didn't have long but you were struggling. your hole pulsated at the thought of the tall male in you. fuck you wanted him terribly. you rubbed your cunt desperately with farleigh's hand in mind. your hole lubricated itself, being so close but so far to your climax. your mind felt so cloudy and pleasurably quiet you nearly forgot farleigh was going to be after you soon. you quickly stood up began to gradually walk away from the stairs.

"97..98...99..100. here i come, [y/n]." farleigh called out in the hall down from the kitchen. he kept a small smile on his face while walking around the first floor before heading to the stairs. he heard them squeak as he was counting so he headed up them, making sure to avoid the squeaky panels.

"you know, the day i saw you, i knew i needed you." farleigh spoke out. you peeked around a corner to see farleighs shadow from the moonlight. you immediately began to cut through hallways to create distance.

"that night i rubbed one out at the thought of you. pumped my cock so hard dreaming of it to be you on top of me." you held your mouth, making sure not to whimper at his confessions.

"and since you've been here, i've tried my damndest to keep jerking off to a minimum of once a night to not get fucking erectile dysfunction, heh. i just tease myself through the day, nearing cumming at times." farleigh chuckled, wandering the west half of the second floor. thinking about farleigh trying to hide a boner while touching himself made you incredibly hot all over. you wanted your hand around his cock and mouth on the tip soon.

"i touch myself thinking about you farleigh. you make me drip." you finally respond, quickly moving to another direction. talking had to be minimum or it would give away your location. you occasionally moved through rooms with doors. you didn't do it much because you felt like it was too sneaky so you did it about every series of seconds. farleigh chuckled again, humming.

"you such a tease, baby." farleigh stated, hearing the slightest giggle. he took a right, continuing to walk and talk. it was several minutes into the game and farleigh was getting restless. you could hear his gentle groans and growls sometimes several yards away. your limit was also getting to you. suddenly, you slipped up. you heard farleigh's steps just at the other end of a hallway around the corner. you panicked.

"stop right there!" you squeaked out, farleigh immediately doing so.

"[y/n]? ..you alright? i stopped walkin'." farleigh called out from the blind corner. you gulped out of anxiety. your heart wanted to jump out of your chest. you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"lets–...lets have a game break. 5 minutes. you sit against your wall of the corner i sit on my wall, deal?" you explained, hoping for an agreement. farleigh stayed silent, thinking to himself. did he want to devour you right then and there in the middle of the hallway? yes. but does he love the chase? absolutely.

but if playing a game of chase means devouring you in the end, he wouldn't dare decline a game.

"fine. break time, 5 minutes." he declared. you hear shuffling before seeing farleighs hand planted in your field of vision. he sat on the floor as told. you slowly walked over and sat criss cross, placing your hand in his field of vision. you heard him chuckle, causing you to smile like an idiot.

"can i take away my hand now that you can see i’m sitting with you?" you smiled, taking away yours first.

"yes, hello farleigh." you greeted. farleigh sighed gently, trailing his pajama-lined, half-hard boner with his nails gently.

"hey baby ..what do you wanna do for the next 4 and a half minutes?" farleigh asked, leaning his head back on the wall in bliss. he made sure to count every minute in his head. you sighed gently, dipping your hand back into your underwear impatiently. a sharp exhale escaped your lips and you quickly tried to cover it up with a fake cough.

"i want to hear how i turn you on, how i make you feel inside and out." you breathed out. farleigh laughed again, palming himself through his silk bottoms.

"you make me feel so hot and bothered all over, [y/n]. you get me so pent up i can't risk leaving my room and seeing you or i'll be walking around with a hard on all day." the brunette scoffed playfully. you smiled at his words, gasping slowly as you entered a finger in your entrance. you became weak, the walls of your heat pulsating in need for more.

2 more minutes..

"you probably already do know i purposely push up against you whenever i walk past in front of you. just to get ..y'know..a feel–..to see what i'm working with." you bit down on your lip, hard, remembering the time you walked passed farleigh in the kitchen. you could have sworn you felt his bulge between your ass cheeks. you touched yourself endlessly that night. the break was about to end in a little over a minute. you took your fingers out of you and stood up. an idea popped into your head before you began taking off your pajama bottoms.

"yeah? ..well.." farleigh silently stood up, licking his lips. "why not get a feel for it.." he quickly turned the corner to grab you "right now–" except there was no one there. you had already made your escape so smoothly.

farleigh looked down to see a pair of purple bikini cut panties on the tile floor. he arched a brow, picking them up to see a dark wet spot in the crotch area. the blood rushed to his head, the arousal finally catching up to him. when he brought it to his face, he licked and sucked your juices off the fabric, holding his crotch. he felt an intense pulse in his hands and had enough. his final string of patience snapped.

"[y/n]..come out now. there is no more chasing, only hunting." farleigh groaned with a low laugh. he turned at another corner only to see you exiting at the end away from him. the brunnette ran after you now, a smile staying on his face. you squeaked, seeing him only yards away. you immediately took a turn on the east side of the building. farleigh decided to go another way to cut through the hallway connecting yours.

he heard your feet slapping against as you got closer. he stayed at the corner you were nearing and as you ran past him, he swiftly grabbed you and pulled you into him roughly. he groaned into your neck and shoulder as you briefly screamed and squeaked. though your yelps slowly smoothened out into gasps and shudders of pleasure. one of farleigh large masculine hands held you securely against his front while his free hand tenderly roamed the skin of your thighs and abdomen.

"caught you." he whispered into your neck. he breathed heavily against you with his free hand trailing up your hip and he slowly pushed yours into his, causing his body to shiver in response. you felt his warm cock against your ass and wanted to fuck him terribly.

"now take me." you gasped out, pressing your ass further into his clothes shaft. he abruptly threw you over his shoulder, and began walking with a clear destination in mind. you giggled at being held like you weighed nothing, yelping as farleigh smacked your ass.

"quiet." you quickly obeyed, moaning as farleigh rubbed you through your pants. he quickly got to his room and threw his prey on his bed. he wanted nothing more than to use you over and over again till you trembled under him, a crying mess. he wrapped a hand around your neck and pinned you down on the sheets, splaying your thighs open to the wet crotch area of your thin cotton pants. farleigh dove down between your thighs, sucking and wetting your clothed cunt even more. he could see the mere outline of your pussy, watching it ever so slightly pusate. it was incredibly erotic to him.

"beautiful." he muttered. your moans danced through his ears like a wonderful violin. you couldn't help yourself because that deep ache in your core was finally being satisfied. farleigh swiftly removed your pants with his free hand, immediately leaning down to taste you. a wave of pleasure washed over you and you nearly lost all strength under the brunette.

"god– please farleigh–" you begged. you were already so close. his tongue flicked over your clothed pearl like he already knew your weak spots. the tension line wanted to snap for you so soon but farleigh of course did not allow that.

"already? so soon baby ..hold it. i wanna use you all night." farleigh mumbled into your cunt. you nodded, gasping as he suddenly added two fingers into you. you yelped, the overwhelming amount of ecstasy washing over you. you were so so so close. but he was just barely grazing that spot you so desperately wanted touched.

your hands wrapped around the one arm restricting you, moaning into the air. your walls constricted every few seconds and you cursed like a sailor. your legs struggled to stay open so they closed around farleigh's torso, shaking like a leaf in the wind. you were in heaven.

"f-farleigh– hng– right there...right there–" you cried out. farleigh couldn't take it anymore. he wanted to feel what you were feeling. he finally lap up your juices once more before pulling away. your body immediately relaxed, trembling every few seconds like shockwaves.

"don't worry, were not done yet." farleigh hummed, pulling off his night clothes. he stripped you of your shirt and pushed your thighs back into you, nearly folding you. he had a full view and he made sure you did too. your eyes watched intensely as his tip teased your entrance, gasping as he would almost enter.

"hey, look at me.. look at my eyes only. i wanna see it written all over your face as i enter you." his eyes captured yours and you didn't dare look down at the salacious sight just yet. you nodded as a signal for him to continue, farleigh immediately doing so. your jaw dropped almost immediately. you felt his cock, inch by inch, filling you. but you didn't look just yet, because farleigh's expression nearly made you cum just by looking. his eyes were rolled back just slightly, lips parted and his brows knitted together in a way that made him look so submissive.

"[y/n]–" he shuddered. he broke eye contact first to watch your hole swallow him up, moaning a broken 'oh fuck–.' you looked down too and moaned at such a lewd sight. farleigh held your throat just a little more securely before ramming your cunt in. you moaned his name, and maybe a few 'yes sir's' and 'right there sir's' as he pummeled your pussy.

your core felt tight and hot again. he was hitting that spot perfectly. you couldn't take it anymore.

"im sorry sir– fuck–" you whimpered, letting your first orgasm take over. your eyes rolled back and your walls constricted tightly around farleigh. you mewled and moaned as he didn't stop his pace. your legs shook violently and your vision flashed white.

"slut, you came without permission." farleigh stilled all his movements, watching your hips still buck for more. he pulled out and flipped you over on your stomach, causing you to yelp in surprise.

"well if your going to cum over and over, it might as well be all on my dick.." he concluded. you nodded eagerly, his hand pushing your head down into the pillows. your hole was on full display for him to admire as he thrusted into you again. you wrapped around him perfectly and he wanted to fuck you on the daily. the amount of pleasure you were giving him gave him a head high.

"just like that sir– hng–" you moaned, that sweet spot of yours being the only thing he was hitting. you controlled your breathing so you wouldn't immediately cum again but it gradually became difficult.

“you feel so– fucking– good [y/n]–" farleigh praised between thrusts, moaning into the air above him. his hands gripped your hips firmly so if you tried to run, there was no use. you had to take him like a good girl.

farleigh would slow down occasionally, not to catch his breath, but to watch as your hole basically sucked him off. he would also focus on the physical aspect and how your soft warm walls felt. he'd graze right above your cervix, where your sweet spot was. he'd watch you gasp every time he brushed up against it. he was done playing for his orgasm. he was going to get it now.

farleigh scooted closer to your hips so every thrust got rougher and deeper. you loved every second of it. it felt so good it hurt. thought you were not in pain but in overwhelming ecstasy. your vision got cloudy and your eyes glazed over with tears. your fingers gripped onto the sheets while farleigh had his way with you.

"can i cum please can i cum–" you cried. your entire body shook violently as your core burned for a release. farleighs hips faltered due to being so close. he was ready to burst.

"fuck– cum now baby– cum right on my di–" he groaned. both of you mutually climax. farleigh moaned your name as he pumped you full. he felt dizzy while his hips buckled violently into you every few seconds. you on the other hand, trembled and incoherent, began to cry from overstimulation. you moaned at every post orgasm thrust, trying your best to be good. as soon as farleigh pulled out of you, your body went limp, your whimpers finally getting to farleighs ears.

"baby, baby. c'mere." he coaxed, he gently picked you up and sat you in his lap, kissing your cheeks. you sniffled and giggled lightly, wiping your face.

"im okay sweetheart, i swear." you reassured. farleigh mumbled an ‘i know' before kissing you tenderly. he sat back against the headboard and held you close. when he pulled away, he kept his forehead against yours.

"you did so good, babe." he whispered, causing you to blush. you rubbed your legs together, causing you mewl suddenly. you were still so sensitive and farleigh noticed.

"let me help." he suggested,slowly opening your legs to reveal a grool covered pussy. you whined and closed your thighs on his hand.

"[y/n], trust me." he said, catching your eyes. you share a small moment of silence before opening your legs again. his middle and ring finger gently massaged your overstimulated clit and caused you to hiss. your hips twitch again, grabbing onto his arm in protest.

"im s-sensitive–"

"and rubbing it through the sensitivity usually helps. so breathe, you're doing so good." he planted a kiss on your cheek while the two of you watched his fingers caress you. he kept a steady pace and the sensitivity eventually decreased. you sighed deeply and laid on the brunette chest, enjoying the erotic massage of some sort.

"heh– you were amazing, [y/n]." he smiled at you, taking his fingers and placing them in your mouth. you gladly licked his digits clean of your juices, flushing a pink. you felt like a slut but enjoyed every second of it.

"mm ..lets go again in 20 minutes." you said while getting comfortable in farleighs arms. he laughed at your cuteness before sitting with you in his arms, enjoying the view of the moon in his window. it was going to be a long evening.

© r4vn ²⁰²⁴, do not repost my work.

hope you enjoyed teehee c:

[ravennmad]

Hiii!! I just found ur account and i really love it, so i was wondering if u could say some of ur until dawn hcs?? It could be abt any characters/ships. Thanks!!

HELLO ANON I HAVE SO SO MANY :))

headcanons about everyone, in no particular order

ashley gets sick at the end of every school quarter from being stressed out and chris always catches it

ash has eczema on her hands

she also runs cold all the time

she made her gloves :)

chris is always wearing the appropriate amount of layers so he's usually warm

thermal equilibrium :)

josh and emily are both gift giving bitches and try to outdo each other for christmas and birthdays

jess said "aca-scuse me??" for months after seeing pitch perfect and tried to make everyone learn the songs with her

mike buys a giant stuffed bear for jess to hug

emily taught matt skincare and now his skin looks great and he does her routine on her when she's drunk or too tired

jess puts a silly bandaid over the scar on the bridge of her nose sometimes

jess cuts her hair after the game, about chin length

jess wears loose clothes for a while post-canon

josh and mike have kissed while drunk or on a dare or during spin the bottle or something this is canon they told me themselves

mike and sam become inseparable post-game

like. they're roommates (i'll cry about them)

mike and chris play video games together when they can't sleep

they're also GYM BUDDIESS

and sam

jess gets a cat after the game

matt is mildly allergic to cats

die hard was one of mike's favorite movies and is a comfort movie for him after the game (bruce willis is just like him fr)

logistically mike cannot go get wolfie but he DOES get a dog

can you tell i like thinking about post-game

thank you for the ask!!!

[quoththe-ravenn]

Massive thoughts about Vampire!Jordan grooming Angel!Pc, drinking their blood during every chastity check, because the blood of the pure is so much sweeter than from the corrupted.

Pc having to hide the bite marks on their thighs, using makeup to cover the bruises, feeling especially drained after that time of the month.

Vampire!Jordan taking advantage of his position and licking Pc's most sensitive spot, making them quiver from the unfamiliar feeling.

Vampire!Jordan ensuring their chastity belt is locked tight to protect their innocence, having to do daily check ins for their own piece of mind.

Idk man I'm obsessed with him.

[swampstew]

FuckNoWriMo - Raven's master post

I am so excited to try my shot at @quinloki 's writing challenge for the month of December. I'm aiming for the Fuck It category, meaning I'm challenging myself to write at least 50,000 words by the end of the year. Tall order!

My goals are to get back into daily writing habits, finish a fanfic or two, finish all my WIPS and drafts that I've let collect dust. And for added fun, I'll add my titles below with current word counts and the ending word count. You can send me an ask about my works in progress at any time :)

Working titles (note: some are just titled draft # and I like to keep it that way for the suspense)

At First Sight - current word count: 30,964 - hope to finish

Turn Back Time - current word count: 164,915 - new chapter update(s)

Untitled Draft - current word count: 2,148 - on going for 2025 release

KillerCook - current word count: 25,814 - new chapter update(s)

Captain_CumShot - current word count: 3,419 - new chapter update(s)

Rowena's Future Vision - current word count: 6,559 - new chapter update(s)

AU Khal - current word count: 0 - to start

SDV AU - current word count: 0 - to start

Hickey Hockey AU - current word count: 2,751 - to restart in different POV

Brown Eyed Trouble - current word count: 4,385 - ongoing for 2025 release

Modern AU - current word count: 55 - wip project with no real end in sight

Tumblr Draft 4 - current word count: 0 - to start

Tumblr Draft 5 - current word count: 0 - to start

Tumblr Draft 6 - lesbians - current word count: 829 - to finish second half

Tumblr Draft 11 - angst - current word count: 0 - to start

Tumblr Draft 12 - mini series CYA - current word count: 999 - hope to finish soon

Tumblr Draft 13 - current word count: 105 - wip with no real plan

Tumblr Draft 14 - cryptids and monsters - current word count: 60 - hoping to make into new fanfics (1 or 2)

Tumblr Draft 16 - current word count: 351 - hope to finish soon

Zine work (3 of 3) Draft 1 - 500 words Draft 2 - 193 words Draft 3 - 281 words

Wish me luck <3

[sabotourist]

between 25 and 54

This fucking chapter is 8k words. We just kept writing it and words kept happening!

But hey! New chapter of the chorus trilogy chatfic, 'laughter is a decent opioid,' written by @illusion-of-sea-axes and me! This time: betting pools and car chases! Enjoy!

[ravenw1ngs]

Hey guys is now a good time to tell you I’m working on a 3-part series of qTubbo-centric fics that are a) half a character study, b) mostly canon compliant with some divergence around Purg 2 for ✨reasons✨, and c) focused heavily on family themes and Tubbo’s many issues?

[kitkat4406]

Will forever be thankful to ganic for getting me back into writing

I’m writing them something for Christmas, and due to that I’ve gotten back into writing!

Which is very good for anyone here who wanted more of my stuff brxnhs

Also thank you to the anon’s who’ve asked the questions I needed before i even knew I needed them

[murderofravens]

BABY, I'M RIGHT HERE

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

warnings: large age gap (20 vs late 40s) angst. slow burn. slight infantilization. no use of y/n. codependency. obsession from both sides. unhealthy dynamics. plot with porn. fingering. oral fixation. brat tamer inho. sub!reader. reader is very touch starved. a little yandere vibes. emotional manipulation. i made him very fatherly but toxic oops.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 8k more or less

SEQUEL TO: DUSK TILL DAWN

FINAL PART: FLY ME TO THE MOON

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore mistakes.

you can't remember half of it. everything happened so quickly— your little moment of bliss shattered by 388's quick warning. the lights went out. one moment you were in young-il's arms, the next he was dragging you down towards 456, who was hiding under another bed. he shifted to make room for you and you crawled to his side. young-il followed.

"stay quiet," 456 whispered, looking around. not much was visible in the dark, but soon enough, the loud noise of bottles shattering and people screaming began echoing through the hall.

"they're killing each other—" you whisper, eyes wide. you shift slightly, raising your head. you try to sit up. "they're killing our side of the people—"

young-il halted your movements with a hand on your arm, "don't move." he hissed. "we can't leave till the guards come in."

"what?" you snap, voice hushed, "if they kill all our people, what's gonna happen in the next vote? we'll lose!"

"there won't be a next vote," 456 added, flinching slightly at another sharp cry. he looked determined. "we're stopping this today."

you glanced at him, heartbroken. you looked out again, heartbeat picking up as you saw player 380 run away from nam-gyu. he was on her tail, visibly trying to kill her. a bottle lay there by the bed, and before young-il could stop you, you slid it out. nam-gyu tripped on it and fell on his face. luckily, it was too dark and he was too worked up to check who it was. you just hoped it gave player 380 enough time to hide.

young-il restrained you then, pushing you down slightly so you were fully sandwiched between him and 456, "don't compromise our position!"

"how much longer?" you whispered, ignoring him. you winced as more sounds of bones cracking and people choking on their own blood took over the entire room. neither of them answered, but even 456 jumped a little as the body of one of the girls on your side fell to the floor.

your eyes widened as the girl's eyes met yours, and then she sputtered out blood before laying there, lifeless.

"don't look." young-il voiced out, craning his neck down to meet your gaze. he clenched his jaw, settling you with a cold glare, "look at me."

"you should've told me this was the plan," you hissed through gritted teeth, squinting as the flashing of lights overwhelmed your senses, "would you be okay if that was m—mphh!"

he put a finger to your lips, shaking slightly as he gave you another warning glare. 456 watched with bated breath, as if counting all the people dying.

the lights go off again, and the room remains dark. only the noises of people fighting can be heard.

"time to move," 456 tells young-il, who nods and begins shifting out of the bed. you follow along, but he pushes you back in, "don't get out until i tell you."

"what?" you frown, confused. your words are quick, "you expect me to hide here while you go out there to do god knows what—

as you speak, young-il grits his teeth, frustrated. he's desperate as he grabs your shoulders. he glances back, makes sure no one sees before silencing you with a kiss. it leaves you breathless. he cups your face and looks into your eyes intensely, "don't get out until i tell you to." his voice is urgent, "close your eyes, put your hands to your ears. trust me, and listen to me for once."

you blink rapidly before nodding, still a little out of it. you don't think you'll ever get used to how good kissing him feels. you wish you could feel it again and again, under better circumstances.

456 hisses for young-il, and he pats your head before rushing away as soon as the doors open. the guards come in, rapidly firing their machine guns towards the ceiling, stopping the fight. you watch carefully, heart dropping to your stomach as young-il and 456 lay there, as if dead, along with 390 and 388. you almost rush out to check on them, but young-il's previous words hold you back. you watch as the guards start putting those devices to the dead bodies' ears, and when they reach your team members, 456 suddenly attacks. the rest of the team similarly manages to take their guns away, and kill the remaining guards. you almost jump out of your skin as a firing match starts— and young-il and player 120 skillfully kill most of them. you look on with bated breath, flinching as the guards fall to the floors. you begin to get out from under the bed, panting. one of the guards was still hiding, and he immediately aimed the gun at you. before you could move, young-il shoots him dead.

you look around the room, swallowing the lump in your throat at the sight of all the dead bodies. so many people with hopes and dreams. people with families, laying there, lifeless. cautiously, you looked around with purpose, before your eyes fell on player 380's body.

she couldn't hide.

you look away, sweat rolling down the side of your head. you clench your jaw and glare at the other team, eyes narrowing with resentment as you catch sight of nam-gyu. swallowing hard, you walk past the bodies, careful not to step on them. your eyes fell on your team members gathering the guards' weapons.

so this was the plan. you frown, rushing forward to help them. the guns are heavy, but you manage to place many of them along with some ammo on the bedsheet laying there.

456 announces the plan— something about capturing the ones who captured them all, and going to their headquarters to make them pay. you shift your gaze to young-il, who stares ahead blankly, as if thinking hard. you wonder if he's scared.

"anyone who knows how to use guns and wishes to join us—" 456 calls out, "please step forward!"

the players are silent, frozen. cowards, you think to yourself. you step forward immediately, and young-il's face hardens so dramatically, it almost makes you laugh. he takes a step towards you, "absolutely not!" he snaps, "stay right there."

"you need all the help you can get!" you argue back sharply. you point an accusatory finger at player 100 and his team. "don't you see? even these so called tough guys aren't willing to go with you! don't put your trust in these people, i can help more than they can! my aim's great!"

while you talk, young-il pinches the bridge of his nose, calls your name again gruffly. a warning.

"don't drag us into this!" player 100 interrupts angrily, his lip curling with disgust. "this is madness! you don't stand a chance against them!"

you quite literally snarl as you rush towards him, jabbing a finger to his chest. it makes him stumble backwards, "you had no issue with risking our lives and your own for money, but standing up to those who caught you is where you draw the line?" you glower at him, scoff at the rest of his team. to emphasize your point, you gather saliva in your mouth, spit it by his shoe. "fucking pussy !"

young-il quite literally snatches you away by the collar of your jacket before the other team can do anything. it's a little baffling how swiftly he moves, even while carrying such a big gun. he takes you to your side of the bunker, shoves you onto the bed, "don't make me tie you up." he grunts threateningly, "you are not going and that's final. you're built like a bird, you won't stand a chance against armed guards. i refuse to watch you get killed."

456 calls out for you, voice soft but urgent, "it's best if you stay here. we won't be able to focus if he's— if we're worried about you."

you grit your teeth as you scowl at young-il with glassy eyes. they're tears of anger. you want to scream at him. you want to pull him towards you and never let him go. you look at your team, watch with longing as player 120 guides them on how to use their guns. she's brave and badass, it makes you want to be like her.

"and you're okay with getting killed?" you drift your attention back to young-il, voice cracking. "what am i supposed to do if something happens to you?"

young-il sighs, gaze softening as he kneels before you . your lips wobble as you glare daggers at him, eyes narrowed. he shakes his head, "i'll come back to you alive."

you scoff bitterly. "how can you be so sure?"

"i just am."

"promise me." you hold your pinky up, clenching your jaw as you stare at him intensely, "promise me you won't die. promise me you'll come back for me."

he looks at your pinky, and then at you. you've always found him harder to read than other people. but you see reluctance in his eyes. he sighs, before raising his own pinky, joining it with yours. the contrast between your hands would've been comical if you were not in this shithole. he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"i promise."

you can hear player 100 yelling at his team, clearly talking shit about you. you look over young-il's shoulder, and he glances at the old man too before turning to you knowingly.

"don't get in any trouble while i'm gone." he whispers softly. he reaches behind his back. "and just in case— i want you to have this."

it's a pistol. he probably took it from one of the dead guards. your eyes widen and you look at young-il. he teaches you how to unload it, and reload it, and how to work the safety, before placing it in your palm. your gaze never leaves his face. questioning.

"you've made enemies here," he explains, as if it's obvious, "if any of the men there try anything—"

"you want me to kill them?" you quirk an eyebrow.

his mouth curls into a smirk, "i want you to be safe."

he gets up, and as player 100 looks at you again, you jokingly aim the gun towards him. he jumps back in fear, stumbling into the younger men at his side. you chuckle, and young-il lowers your hand. "behave."

it makes your heart jump.

"why does that kid get a gun and we don't?!" one of the younger men yells. young-il ignores him.

you grin at him almost childishly. he shakes his head before addressing 149— the old lady who got here with her son.

"don't let her leave," he tells her, giving you a stern, sidelong glance. you roll your eyes.

before he can leave, you grab his hand and look at him intensely. you can only hope your eyes can convey what you can't verbally, not in front of people. for his sake.

"be careful." you decide to say, voice cracking. you memorize every feature of his face, with only one thought in your mind.

you're not allowed to leave me.

he nods, looking away before walking to his team. you yell at them too, telling them to be careful and watch as they carefully exit. you look on with longing as you watch them go, before glancing down at the gun in your hand, and then at the door again. soon enough, you can hear the faint sounds of guns firing. it makes you jump, but player 149 puts a hand on your shoulder, comfortingly guiding you to sit beside her.

you almost contemplate rushing out, what would these people even do? stop you? you have a gun in your hand, although you wouldn't want to pull it on 149. she's a good lady. people are already scared. you don't want to make it worse.

so you stay, and hope that young-il keeps his promise. pinky promises are sacred. you either keep them, or you die.

you decide that if he dies, you'll just bring him back to life somehow and kill him again.

you don't remember how long you wait. multiple times, you stand up and pace around the room. agitated, scared. every gunshot has you looking at the door again and again, hoping that somehow young-il will decide to burst through it. 149 tells you to be calm, tries to distract you with your life outside the games. it doesn't work.

thankfully, the pistol in your hand had scared the other team enough to not try anything with you. they talk within themselves, trying to busy themselves with conversations and anxiously bouncing their legs as they look at the ceiling. you wonder how they can be so calm after killing your team.

"you people are cowards." you say to no one in particular. the message hits the target though, because the ones who weren't willing to go and help shift uncomfortably.

"you'd rather die losing to a stupid game instead of a noble death trying to help people," you chide, chuckling bitterly. 149 tries to stop you from talking, but you shrug her words off with a shake of your head. you stand up and face the other team again. "it's shameful. you had no problem killing others who were in the same position as you, but your oppressors is where you decide to stop?" you gesture towards the dead bodies. the sight of blood doesn't make you squeamish anymore. it just makes you sad.

"these people died because you wanted to keep playing." you hiss, "you killed them."

the people on the other side don't respond, instead lowering their gaze to the floor. you look at nam-gyu sitting on the side, fiddling with something. you want to kill him. you want to kill everyone who stopped you from going home, who became the reason more innocent people died. your morals are a bit fucked, you think, but you're okay with it. people who do bad things deserve to die. you raise the gun, aim it at player 100. he flinches, and sits straight up, raising his hands. his team members shuffle away from him, and it makes you snicker. when he's on death's door, they abandon him. "have you gone crazy!?"

"game or no game, you were meant to die." you clench your jaw, your mouth twitching. "shall i kill you, old man?"

you don't get to pull the trigger. you're interrupted by player 388 rushing inside, panicked and covered in blood. your eyes widen, and you go straight to him, grabbing his shoulders. he looks shaken up, "what happened? where's 001? is he okay? did you find—"

"gather all the remaining ammo," he says shakily, fumbling over his words, "we ran out. i need to take some back."

you nod, and 149's son comes to help you check the dead guards' gear and gather the remaining ammunition. 388 wraps it up in a jacket, and rushes to the door, before suddenly stopping. you pause, looking at him, sweat breaking out across your skin. there's a bad feeling in your stomach. "what's wrong? aren't you going?"

he doesn't respond. you can't see his face because his back is turned to you. a moment passes and you step forward cautiously. he drops the walkie talkie, and your eyes fall to the floor where it lands— where you can hear the voice of player 120 asking where he is. they have no ammo.

"i can't do it." 388 whispers, shaking. he rushes back to his bed, drops the little makeshift bag full of ammo and cowers into himself. your eyes widen. you look at the walkie talkie, and back to him. if they don't get ammo soon, they're going to die. you rush to the bed, shoot 388 a frown— you consider comforting him, but you have another priority now. you grab the bundle and turn to leave.

149 runs after you along with a few others, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket. she's trembling with worry. "your father told me not to let you leave—"

amidst the chaos, you let out a chuckle.

"he's not my father," you reply, yanking your jacket from her grip and composing yourself. the sentence would've had you cackling in a better situation. you can't wait to tell young-il about it. you can understand why she'd think so, even though you and young-il look literally nothing alike. the opposite, really. he's like a father in spirit.

your face hardens and you address the crowd. "they need help. is anyone gonna come with me?”

nobody moves. you scoff bitterly. predictable.

149 looks at you helplessly, pushes her son to grab you. when he advances towards you, you pull out the gun and hold it to his head, eyes crazed as you pull the safety. you warn him dangerously, "step back."

he raises his hands and steps back, lowering his gaze. holding the bundle to your chest, you walk backwards, aiming the gun to both sides of the room and ensuring no one grabs you. you look at 149, meet her crushed gaze and mouth an 'im sorry' to her before running out as fast as you can.

you're quite sure you got lost. you're running as fast as you can, trying to follow the sounds of the gunshots, and looking for any bullet holes or signs of struggle. you look up and see broken cameras, and recall 120 shooting them back in the hall. you follow them until one of the red guards encounters you, immediately raising his gun. he's slow, infuriatingly so— but it doesn't matter because in your panicked haze, you shoot him in the stomach, then rush forward and kick his gun away before running off.

you can see your team. you let out a breath of relief, and as soon as 120 meets your gaze, she gasps. you shake your head and quickly slide over to her, giving her the rest of the ammunition. she quickly reloads, and you toss the rest to the other players, before looking around frantically, flinching at the gunshots. "where's 001 and 456?" you ask her.

"control room!" she points towards the end of the hallway, and you nod before advancing. she tries to protest but you're quicker, and she's preoccupied with firing. luckily, the guards never seem to fire at you.

there are two sides. you hesitate, before finally taking the left one where you just heard two gunshots. you quickly rush forward, pistol held protectively. the whole area looks like some sort of purple maze, and you're wary as you walk, scared that a guard might jump out and shoot you.

finally, you see your young-il's back. he's crouching on the floor, looking at a dying player. the relief you feel is baffling. your eyes widen, and you call out his name. "young-il sir!"

he tenses, turning back so fast that you worry he'd get a whiplash. visibly stressed, he rushes towards you, shaking his head, "no— no, no, no, no, no, what are you doing here!”

you run towards him, almost tripping on the stairs. he grabs your shoulders, shakes you aggressively, "i told you not to fucking leave!"

you almost flinch at his tone. it's strange to see him swear. you answer him shakily, panting, "they— they ran out of ammo, i couldn't leave you!"

he looks upset and shaken up, clenching his jaw as he pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling incoherently to himself. you turn towards the dying player, your expression pained. he tries to point at something, but you don't understand what. you kneel towards him, and his hand falls down. his croaking stops.

suddenly, you hear the footsteps of guards heading towards you. before you can move, you're surrounded. you hold onto your gun, shaking as you quickly stand up. you swallow hard, unblinking as they aim their guns at you.

that’s when you notice it.

they're aiming at only you, and not young-il. it makes you feel strange.

you look at him, and he's taking sharp breaths, as if trying to compose himself. or trying not to scream with rage. it's odd, how relaxed he looks. tense in the face, but relaxed in the way that he didn't take an offensive stance, or feel surprised at the sight of the guards. you frown in confusion, before he flicks his hand. the guards lower their guns.

you blink a few times, swallowing the lump in your throat, dread settling in your stomach. you look at the guards, then at young-il, who refuses to meet your gaze. you repeat the action.

guards. young-il. guards. young-il. then the players on the floor. then back at young-il's face. and it takes you a moment, but the realization sets in.

the guard letting you go to the restroom when young-il was by your side, him conveniently appearing to save you when you went exploring, him walking with that air of authority. how the guards never seemed to look at him too long. how easily he killed the man during mingle without a second thought. how one look from him had the guard lowering his gun during voting. how he was sure he wouldn't die. things that you never should've looked over.

you step back, your breathing getting ragged as you slowly raise your gun towards young-il. the guards point their guns at you again, ready to shoot. he stops them by raising his hand in warning. he clenches his jaw, his eyes unreadable and guarded.

"who are you." you demand tightly. your voice shakes pathetically, it makes you wince. you've never been this scared of anything in your life. not even the games.

"it doesn't have to be this way." he says quietly. his voice seems different, deeper. gravely. he holds his hand out to you in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. "put the gun down."

you step back, putting your finger on the trigger, just the way he taught you. ‘i want you to be safe,’ he'd said.

"i asked you a fucking question!" you yell, voice cracking. your gun feels slippery in your hands. it almost falls. you fumble trying to keep a tight grip on it. all this time, the prospect of death felt a little comforting with the idea that you'd have young-il by your side if it happened. but now, it just terrifies you. it looks bleak.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. you were always fucking unlucky. the first time you like a man this much, he turns out to be the bad guy. you feel utterly pathetic and terrified.

his eyes dart all over your panicked face before he gestures towards one of the guards, who raises his gun. there's a flash of guilt in his eyes that you can't miss. it makes your blood freeze. you refuse to die alone.

you straighten your aim towards young-il and pull the trigger. two gunshots ring out, and you don't get the time to react before something stings your chest, and you fall to the ground.

your vision goes black.

there are no dreams, no last memories. no flashes of your life. there's this heaviness in your chest, like someone is suffocating you.

you wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up immediately. your vision looks blurry, but with a few blinks you can make out a room. a lavish room with a closed window on the side. you frown in confusion, before putting your hand to your chest. there's no bleeding, no pain except the one in your muscles.

you swallow hard, your throat feeling dry. for a moment you wonder if it was all a dream, but when you try to move, you realize your right hand is chained to the side of the bed— with those strong black straps with locks that they used in the second game. you pull at it a few times, breathing getting heavy as you look down on yourself. your bloodied green jersey has been replaced by a comfortable pair of pink pyjamas that cover your arms and legs. you raise your hand to your head, and there's a small bandage on the right side of your face that you remember previously scratching in the bathroom.

you struggle a little, try to look for a way to unlock the straps, but it's like the room is purposely empty. absolutely no sharp or heavy objects to help you escape. like a prison cell.

you think of young-il. is he dead? you remember pulling the trigger. you knew the risk that came with aiming the gun at him when you were surrounded by guards— you just had this thought that if you were going to die, you would drag him with you. he won't get to live after what he'd done.

you don't get to brood about your thoughts for long, because the door opens and he steps inside— a man dressed in black, with a creepy mask. it makes you feel uneasy. you touch your chest again, look at him with a questioning gaze.

“it was just a tranquilizer.” he answers your silent question, voice distorted through the mask.

“is this really necessary?” you ask dryly, rattling the chain on your right hand.

“do you feel comfortable?” the man asks, gesturing towards your clothes.

you grit your teeth, “cut the bullshit. who are you?”

the man sighs, looking down, as if disappointed. he looks at you again before taking off the mask, and you feel like throwing up.

his hair looks different — slicked back with gel. his eyes look tired, even more so than back at the games. he looks more intimidating this way. you feel a strong urge to leap across the bed and ruffle his hair so he can look familiar again.

you have so much to say.

why did you do this? who the fuck are you? how are you still here, when i so clearly remember shooting you?

“you're alive,” you instead remark dryly. young-il gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“your aim needs more practice,” he says quietly, patting his right shoulder. “barely grazed me.”

the idea of having hurt him almost makes your chest ache, but you remind yourself of who he is.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as you look at him. your dear young-il. who comforted you, protected you, held you and kissed you so dearly. he really made a fucking fool out of you.

“and what's all that for?” you tilt your head towards his hand. trying to put on a mask, just like him. a brave face.

he places the mask on the table, walks over to sit on the side of the bed. you flinch, moving away from him slightly.

he notices, and it hurts more than getting shot. he doesn't dare reveal that on his face.

“is your name even young-il?” you ask quietly, voice strained.

he shakes his head. you snort bitterly.

“i'm guessing you're the big boss then.” you remark flatly, looking around the room. forcing yourself to appear nonchalant. he wants to tell you to drop the act, because he can still hear your voice faltering.

he nods, “something like that. i design the games.”

you bite down on your lower lip to stop it from wobbling. nobody knows the strength it takes trying not to cry. you lower your gaze to your lap.

your next question is pathetic. you would expect yourself to scream and threaten him to let you go, but there's only one thing on your mind.

“was i a game to you too?” you ask quietly. you don't want to know the answer. perhaps you would've preferred it if he killed you.

he sighs, averting his gaze. he utters your name softly, and you feel like a weak woman because you still like the way he says it.

your voice almost waivers when you ask, “are you going to hurt me?”

he looks at you, blinks a few times before answering honestly. “don't make me.”

you hold back the urge to sob. your left hand comes up to clap over your mouth, and he looks away as you cower in on yourself. how can he say that, after covering your eyes and pulling you into him to ensure you didn't get scared by people getting killed? you wish there was atleast a lamp on the side table, maybe you could've cracked his skull to free yourself from this fear. and to take revenge for playing with your heart.

“you ruined everything.” he admits, voice growing tight. solemn. he clenches his jaw, mouth twitching with barely disguised anger. “i went into the games because of gi-hun, to make sure he doesn't stop the game. and then ended up paying more attention to you than him.”

you release a shaky breath, pulling your knees to your chest. your mouth twists with emotion. gi-hun. player 456. your eyes widen, heart leaping out of your throat.

“is he okay?” you ask, voice cracking with concern, “is he alive?”

his head snaps up— gaze hardening almost dramatically. his eye twitches, and he gives you a tight smile. it doesn't suit him because it's not the one you're familiar with. “are you worried about him?”

you glare at him, eyes narrowing.

“he’ll be fine.” he adds nonchalantly. his voice sounds different— cold in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “would you rather be with him than me?”

you snort bitterly, looking away with a roll of your eyes. he can't be fucking serious. he has the audacity to be jealous after what he's done to you. he is so unbelievably ridiculous.

“put me back in the game.” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“i can't do that.” he shakes his head, “you will die in there. you won't survive the next games. i made sure they get increasingly difficult—”

“i'll win!” you argue, “i’ll beat them all and win, stop treating me like a fucking child—”

“you are a fucking child compared to me!” he bellows, making you flinch. your gaze never falters as you grit your teeth, looking at him with all the rage you can muster. he grabs your jaw, squishing your cheeks so hard that your lips pucker. he would've kissed you if he wasn't so fucking angry. his voice is harsh as he continues, shaking your head. “you! are quite literally a baby compared to me and the others in there. they're ruthless animals who won't hesitate to rip you apart to win. you're going to die in there and i wouldn't be there to save you!”

his words have your stomach churning, because he's right. but that doesn't matter to you.

“since when do you care?!” you snap challengingly. your words come out muffled.

he glares back at you, his nostrils flaring with anger, “i wish i didn't care.” he hisses, voice low. hoarse. he leans towards you. “oh how desperately i wish i didn't care about you.”

your heart begins to race as you stare at him, dumbfounded, unable to speak. he looks into your eyes, then glances down at your lips, before making eye contact again. he lets go of your face and straightens up, composing himself.

“you almost ruined my entire plan.” his voice is collected, almost guarded. “you consume my every waking thought ever since i felt your head against my chest. do you know how many times i had to warn my guards not to shoot you? especially with how many times you kept crossing the line?”

your breath hitches, and you open your mouth to argue. he doesn't give you a moment to speak.

“i'm not sending you back in the games where you can die.” he continues darkly. he brings his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. the action is gentle— a stark contrast against what he previously did. the situation you're in, the kind of man he is. you blink at him, eyes teary. his gaze softens just slightly. “you made me promise not to abandon you. I don't plan to.”

“you're a sick man,” you whisper. you can't believe he's holding that against you— your promises from when he was deceiving you, “you designed those fucking games. you can stop them anytime you wanted. i got stuck here because of you, you killed all those innocent people. you're a sadistic, psychotic asshole—”

he shoots you a warning glare, pressing his hand against your mouth. “don’t test me, brat. ”

you sniffle, letting out a pained whimper. you push his hand off your mouth, “let me go.”

he looks unamused, “i can't do that.”

“were you not planning to leave me?” you try to reason with him, desperate. “when you left with the rest of the team? you wouldn't have come back after that—”

“i would've found a way to get you home.” he admits quietly. “i had a plan. but then you came running after me like the brat you are. you never listen.”

“then let me go now!” you protest heatedly. his words have your heart hurting. if that's true, then you're the one who sealed your fate. another impulsive decision ruined your life. “i told you about me. i told you about my mom! i miss her. she and my sister—" you almost choke on a sob as you croak the words out, the mere thought of them driving you to insanity, "they need me."

“i've settled your father's debt,” he mentions after a moment of silence, looking deeply into your eyes. he hopes it gives you some comfort, stops you from wanting to leave him. “you don't have to go back. they'll live a life of ease.”

your blood runs cold. that means he knows where they are.

“do you expect me to fucking thank you?” you can't hold back the tears rolling down your cheeks, shaking your head, “i wanna go home.” you sniffle, “you ruined our lives. you played with my feelings and my life. people are dead because of you. how can you say you'd have let me go home one moment, and then refuse it the next?”

"don't hurt them," you speak again, leaning forward almost pleadingly. perhaps you shouldn't piss him off. you're not the kind to beg for your life. but your family? now that's another thing. "please keep them out of this. dont hurt them, please."

"i won't," he says airily, his dark eyes deeply boring into yours, "not if you don't give me a reason to. just be good."

you sniffle, violently trembling. be good. you'll be good. for your family's sake.

his hands cup your face and you flinch. his thumbs brush the tears away. you avert your gaze. you can't meet his eyes— you resent him.

you resent yourself because his touch still makes you feel an odd sense of comfort.

"this is torture," you choke out, "why are you doing this to me?"

he says your name softly, guides your face up to look at him, “i’m selfish.” he admits. “the moments i spent with you.. was the happiest i've been in a… long, long time. i'm not ready to let go of that. ever. ”

he has lost everything. his wife, his baby. his brother. his humanity. only now he has control over his life, enough resources. he can change fate with a flick of his finger. he's not going to lose you, not after you've made him feel human again, for the first time in years. you've ripped open his ribcage and climbed inside, sealed it shut with your touch. he hasn't been needed by anyone like this— it gives him a sense of purpose. he doesn't trust himself to not lose his mind if you're ever out of his sight. he'll make sure you're by his side, where he can hold you and comfort you. whatever it takes.

you shake your head, lips wobbling. you try to pull away, your free hand coming up to hold onto his, to pry it off your face. he doesn't let up, instead climbing towards you and invading your personal space as he presses your foreheads together.

“i don't know about you kids, but in my time, pinky promises were a big deal,” he says lowly, the side of his mouth quirking up. he's trying to joke, he wants to see you smile again. the way you did when you looked at him— with stars in your eyes. like he's your hero. nothing else has ever made him feel more alive. “i’m afraid i can't let you go.”

you let out a shudder, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes you till your back collides with the bed. you shake your head, voice tired. “just kill me.”

his face drops, and he looks at you coldly, “you think i'd have you here like this if i planned to kill you?”

you don't respond to that, your chest heaving. everything hurts. your head is pounding, and you feel faint.

his thumb brushes across your cheekbone. he looks at you tenderly, analyzing every feature of your face.

“you know, i really expected you to struggle harder against me.” he observes. the words make you feel embarrassed. your skin heats up with shame, and you clear your throat, looking anywhere but him.

he might be right, you think. you've struggled a little, yes, but he can tell you have the ability to be so much more insufferable. but you're not, not yet. it's fucked up. because even after everything, for some reason you can't seem to brush him off you. you can't seem to let go of the comfort and hope he provided you in one of the most terrifying moments of your life.

you convince yourself it's because your family's life is on the line. not because of your personal feelings.

you don't answer him. you don't have to either, because judging by the small smirk creeping on his face, he knows.

“i'll take care of you,” his face softens. he's trying to convince you. there's a desperate edge to his voice. you look so utterly beautiful to him— your complexion glowing even more because of the pink pyjamas he got for you. in that moment he makes a mental note of what color clothes he'd shower you in the most. “those people down there that you're so desperate to save? they would've thrown you under the bus to win. they don't care about you. i'll make sure you're safe. the life you were living before was worthless. let me look after you.”

“i hate you,” you whisper, voice cracking. another tear rolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away. you don't mean it. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i know.”

you don't get to speak again, because he tilts your head up and crashes his mouth onto yours in a bruising, punishing kiss. it makes you wince, and you choke on a soft sob. against your better judgement, you kiss him back.

the moment your mouth parts under his, he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding in. he moans into your mouth, holding your face as he climbs over you completely. you contemplate biting his tongue off, but you don't. as if reading your mind, his hand comes down to gently squeeze your throat— just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded. you gasp softly, eyes blinking dazedly at him. he pulls his mouth away, then places a soft peck upon your lips. then another. and another. you take greedy breaths as you squirm under him. his hand leaves your throat and slips under your top and you jolt at the feeling of his warm hands against your tummy. his mouth trails down, leaving soft kisses across the smooth skin of your neck.

“you’re sick.” you gasp shakily, throwing your head back, giving him more room to place his wet kisses upon you.

“you're the one letting a man like me touch you,” he whispers hoarsely against your neck, voice slightly teasing. “maybe you're just as sick as i am.”

his words make you shiver. you consider them, and you force yourself to think of all the people back there in the hall, ready to march to their deaths tomorrow. your eyes open and you snap out of your trance.

you use your free hand to push slightly at his chest, gaze pleading, “don't kill them,” you whisper. “let them go. atleast our team. they're good people—”

“are you really doing this?” the switch in his voice has you quivering slightly. his hand comes up, grabs your hair. it stings just slightly. a warning. "do you think they would've been this desperate to save you?"

you let out a noise of protest, looking at him helplessly. trying to touch a string of empathy within him. he has none, not anymore.

“they knew what they were getting themselves into. there's no favoritism. you either win, or die.”

your ears ring, heart pounding against your chest. “then what am i?”

he smirks, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

“you're my little girl.” he noses the side of your neck. goosebumps rise on your skin, “don't bring that up again.”

you grit your teeth, feeling even more remorseful. is there no way to change his mind? even being responsive to his affection doesn't help.

but you're not being docile to change his mind.

you realize you're pliant because you like being under him.

your logical side forces you to speak. your guilty conscience doesn't allow you to get too comfortable under a killer. "this feels wrong."

he stops, clenches his jaw with restrained anger. he squeezes his eyes shut, mentally counts from 1-10 to avoid doing anything he might regret later.

"let me make you an offer," he pulls back, cocking his head to the side. his eyes are unreadable, voice flat, "i'll let them go on one condition."

your eyes widen with hope, and you nod enthusiastically, eager for him to speak.

"with every player i leave alive—" a small smirk appears on his face, despite his best efforts to hide it. "i'll kill someone you love."

the way terror seized you was suffocating. your throat immediately felt dry, eyes widening with shock. you stared at him, motionless, images of your family, your friends, flashing through your head. his hand gently splayed across your stomach, pressing down a little.

"a life for a life." he announced again, giving you a tight lipped smile, "how does that sound?"

"no." you warned, clasping his wrist desperately with your free hand, breathing rapidly. "no— no. please don't. i'll— i'll stay with you. i'll do anything you say, just—" you held back a sob, "please don't hurt them."

in life threatening situations— people only look out for two types of people. themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

he smiled fully then, amused. predictable, he thinks, before leaning back down, "then conversation's over."

"you made the right choice," he whispered. you didn't bother struggling, squeezing your eyes shut. his hand pulls down your top just enough. his mouth quite literally waters as he bites down on your exposed skin, leaving cherry red bruises across your collarbones.

you have no choice, you tell yourself. it's okay to get comfortable now. you couldn't have done anything.

you mewl, and he slips two of his fingers in your mouth, watching intently with a hungry gaze as you suck on them enthusiastically— just like back in the hall. your eyes flutter, and you mumble incoherently as his fingers gently thrust in and out of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. it’s messy and sloppy, and the sight of your saliva slipping down your chin makes him moan softly, “my pretty baby.”

you whimper as his hand slides down to your bottoms. you wait with bated breath as you look at him with hazy eyes. his hand slips down into your panties, and a desperate moan escapes your bruised lips.

“i just want to ruin you,” he chuckles breathlessly, teasing your entrance. he hovers over you, looks at you like a starving man as he pinches your clit. you yelp slightly. he taunts you, gaze full of faux innocence as he raises his eyebrows. “does it hurt, huh, sweetheart? do you want daddy to make you feel good?”

“oh fuck—” the moment that word comes out of his mouth, in his soft, breathy voice— you moan. you're pathetic. it's whiney and high pitched and so utterly desperate, it makes him proud to get a reaction like that out of you. and suddenly he understands a little more why you got so attached to him. he pecks your lips again, and smirks against your mouth. he teases your entrance with a single finger.

you whine, “please.”

“what did you say, hm?” he pretends not to hear you, pushing two fingers in. you've never been brave enough to use two even while masturbating— and his are long and thick. the stretch makes you wince. “come on, baby, tell your old man what you said.”

you try to capture his lips with yours again in hopes that he would stop teasing you. he chuckles breathlessly, then lets out a soft moan at the way your walls clench around him.

“i’m a sadistic, psychotic asshole, right?” he throws your words back at you, and you wince. you squeeze your eyes shut, bite down on your lips to hold back a needy whine. his fingers pull back and then thrust again, curling slightly. his thumb goes to your clit, rubbing it. you take a sharp breath, squirming on the bed as you moan again. he doesn't let up, “is that not what you called me? and now you want me to make you feel good?”

his voice grows serious again, face hardening. his motions stop. “apologize.”

your eyes snap open, and you look at him, surprised. “huh?”

“apologize,” he repeats, “for everything you said earlier. and i'll consider making you cum.”

that gets you to clench your jaw. you glare at him with narrowed eyes, chest heaving with frustration. but you won't do it. if anyone should be apologizing— it's him. he was the one who deceived you and ruined your life. and he hasn't apologized even once. he must think you're stupid. hell would freeze over before you apologize.

you almost reconsider your decision— but then again, his threat only stands if he leaves the players alive. he didn't say anything about language. you shake your head, your previous stubbornness taking over. “not a chance in hell.”

he snorts, looking at you, unamused. his facial expressions don't change, but you can see it in his eyes. little things like a twitch give him away. your heart drops as he pulls his hand out completely, his fingers glistening and wet. he brings them to his mouth, sucks the juices off so casually that it leaves you dumbfounded and flustered.

“i have no patience for brats.” he nods, standing up. you stutter over your words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. much like it did when you first met.

“b-but—”

“i have some work to do.” he announces coldly. you wonder if he's going to do something bad. he's having the time of his life, sexually and emotionally tormenting you. “i'll be back in a bit. i asked the guards to bring you some chocolate milk. feel free to tell them your favourite food for dinner.”

the sudden change in events has you so unbelievably baffled that you can't say a thing as he begins to leave. it's brutal, and it almost makes you want to cry.

“sir?” you call out softly, almost timidly. unsure of how to address him. you're not going to take a risk.

he stops midway, before sighing to himself. he turns to you, looks at the desperation in your eyes.

“inho is fine.” he remarks flatly, swallowing hard. he doesn't know why he decided to reveal his name to you.

perhaps because it would give him another excuse to not let go of you.

you keep looking at him, a devastated expression on your face. like you're dying inside. and maybe you are.

your only source of comfort is gone. you'd gotten too used to it in the past few days. now you wish you'd never met him.

the emotion on his face is unreadable as he walks back to you. he places a soft kiss to your forehead and turns to leave. you grab his hand. the prospect of being alone leaves you terrified. maybe if you can convince him to stay, be good for him, he wouldn't hurt your loved ones. you'll behave.

you start to miss how things used to be.

if things were different, he would have come back to you. he would smile as he walked through the door, and you would finally feel your heart pumping blood as you run to him. he'd drop his gun and hold you, and you'd cry into his chest. he'd ask you if you caused any trouble, and you would take him to your bed and tell him everything. you would tell him that 149 called him your father, and he would laugh— his old man laugh which sounds so sweet and makes his eyes crinkle. he would ruffle your hair and say something along the lines of, ‘with how many times i've saved your ass, i might as well be.’

from a younger age, all you've ever desired is comfort, something you never received. someone to hold you when you cry, to take care of you. protect you. you're sick of being the tough one. the mere idea of it was so far away for you, that the first show of affection and reassurance had you getting this terribly attached. perhaps, inho's biggest crime was taking that away from you.

“inho.” you whisper, visibly crushed. you don't even feel horny anymore. you just miss his comfort, his soft words of reassurance. his laugh. your eyes grow teary. “please don't leave me.”

he looks at you, contemplating. he sighs defeatedly, before grasping your hand properly. it's so warm, and you choke on a soft sob as the reality of your situation sinks in again. you're done for. there's no escape. you're alone, and there's no one to save you. your young-il will not come swooping in to protect you, because he was never there in the first place. you don't even realize when you break down into heartbreaking sobs, breathing ragged.

he isn't used to showing much physical affection. not after what he went through, not until you. and now with you like this, something softens within him. he sits back down on the bed, wordlessly leaning into you, his arms open. you feel utterly pathetic at how quickly you crawl into his lap, burying your face in his chest. you feel like you're betraying your team, but do you have a choice? perhaps you did. you could've chosen to be tough and refuse his affection. but the stakes are different now. your family's life is on the line.

you never stood a chance, not after you met him.

and you don't want to think of a single instance where you don't get to experience being held by him.

your morals are more fucked than you thought. even after all the threats, after him practically forcing you to stay, you can't help but desire his affection. you'll be selfish for once. what could you have done anyway? you would've died in there, and your family would be alone. if what he said is true, atleast now they can live a life of ease without any debts.

as for your team, 456 will look out for them. he's alive, afterall.

you force your mind to be silent.

“i miss you,” you wail painfully, your free hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

he holds you like a child, a hand pressing your head close, the other wrapping around your waist. he shushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn't regret anything he did. you'd made him promise to come back for you, afterall. he always keeps his word. “i'm right here.”

you lean into his neck, and breathe in the smell of him. you squeeze your eyes shut till your sobs die down into the occasional hiccup. the stretch of your right hand and the rattling of the chains is another reminder of where you are.

perhaps if you stay hidden against his chest, you can try to convince yourself it's still your young-il holding you like this.

A/N: so! that's the end of dusk till dawn. this story truly was my joker. i tend to add a lot of psychological elements and character interactions so the fic feels more immersive and realistic, like you're really part of the game. i hope you liked it. can y'all tell who my favourite characters are? lol. also, i'm very horrible with smut so i really tried but i just can't write too much 💔 I'm mostly an angst girl as you can tell. anyways, this was a little self indulgent. thank you so much for the support you guys showed me, it truly means everything! i might write blurbs related to this specific couple from time to time, but no promises! maybe if i get good ideas or requests. anyways i rambled a lot. thank you for reading. feedback is always motivating.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali

[foggysilverfeathers]

Jimmy does it underground.

It’s not illegal, exactly, and They can’t watch him (that’s the whole point, after all) but it doesn’t feel right to do it out in the open air, among cheerful, lighthearted allies whose biggest worries this episode are their outfits and what fun little gimmick will be today. His hand trembles as he lights the first candle.

Seven candles in total — the first four a waxy yellow, two a starchy white and the last jet black, dyed with fresh ink from a squid he’d killed early that morning. The sixth one is short, more of a candle than a stub, but it counts. It matters.

Then, trembling, he dips his hand in the pot he’s carried all the way down here and draws the Symbol.

Enderman blood — difficult to explain having and even more difficult to get. It glows purple in the dark, making the Symbol shine eerily.

“Hello?” Jimmy half whispers, then winces at his own voice. He’s not sure how to begin a prayer.

(Is that what this is, then? A prayer?)

But to his surprisingly, the symbol whispered back.

Speak, ask, for your allies grow wary.

Speak, ask, our yellow canary.

The whispers are at once ancient and powerful, but overwhelmed with a feeling of greed and hunger. They rise above each other in a cacophonous wave, their harmony forming words.

(Jimmy shouldn’t be surprised. This is why he’s here, after all, to ask Them for something — but then why did They never answer his prayers?)

(The Listeners. He’d prayed to them, been loyal to them, but as promised, they’d only ever Listened. Listened to his pleas and prayers, listened to his cries of pain, listened to the pain the canary wings brought him, cycle after cycle.)

(Well, he’d had enough. Of course, he’d heard the warnings, but if the Watchers were really in charge, surely they could make sure Secret Life wasn’t a fluke.)

(Surely they could take away his wings.)

“Is my curse broken?” That seemed like a good place to start.

The Symbol flickered, presumably from one of the candle flames glinting off the enderman blood.

First to die, first to sing,

Your song is deadly, and chaos it brings.

But we have an offer, if you’re prepared to take it.

It will require sacrifices, if you’re ready to make it.

Swear off those meddling false gods of yours

And your life before another will be ensured.

His voice was shaking when he next replied. “Which gods?”

(He knew, didn’t he? He knew, deep down, that what he was doing was wrong. He could sense them.)

(They Listened.)

There are those that Listen, who value honour,

We are those you need, and we are Watchers.

Join us now, bird, parrot, canary,

Or this cavern of yours won’t be quite so airy.

They weren’t threatening the existence of his curse, Jimmy realised. They were threatening to invoke it right now, to kill him deep underground with no way of escape.

Maybe he shouldn’t have done it underground.

(But he remembered it later, when the news reached him: Mumbo was dead. Not a new canary — the curse hadn’t transferred — for his death hadn’t been an omen of chaos, but an accidental death. A mishap with explosives, a death alone from others.)

(A mishap, sure, but Mumbo knew his way around tech. Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be slightly nudged to the wrong place at the wrong time, his hand guided by some all-seeing force. They waited, and their promise was fulfilled. Now for his end of the bargain.)

(They Watched.)

[ravensmadreads]

The Mess of Us

A/N: i have no excuse honestly. I've imprinted on David York for reasons unfathomable to my own brain. This is my attempt at giving him a redemption arc? A softer backstory? My heart and soul? Who knows.

Warnings: uhhhh lots of angst (i mean i tried), almost entirely canon compliant, vague-ish attempt at smut, mild cursing, insane use of italics. (Also: english is not my first language and im faking being a writer but i think this came out okay??? Pls be kind he's my lil babie!!)

Summary: I gave david york my heart and then proceeded to bash it with a sledgehammer - forgive me :p this is the same universe as What Love Means

Taglist: @fuckyeahdindjarin cause i wouldn't be writing without you; @chronically-ghosted thank u to listening to me cry about Dave, and my writing, and myself - i owe u my life; @wannab-urs you absolute maniac i adore u; @timelordfreya u were so kind on the accompanying piece for this i hope you like this too <3

David York

You've known that name for a long time. Stayed with the man that inhabits it even longer. He goes by Dave now. Lives in a suburban home. Has two daughters. An "office job". A respectable man. A good man. A little misguided perhaps. A little bit more jaded than he used to be. More broken than you remember. The light in his eyes all but snuffed out. But a good man.

He was always a good man.

Even when he was no longer yours.

Even when he was no longer David.

****

David York and his sunshine. Neighbours. Best friends. Light of each others lives.

You're two halves of one whole in a way that makes no sense from the outside, but when you tread close enough you can pinpoint the exact strands that join your soul to his. The way his heart is an exact mirror to yours. The way your smile reflects the sun in his eyes and his warmth leaves you feeling more loved than any being in the entire universe. You'd stumbled across him, buried between the pages of a book twice the size of his head, and you thought: Oh God. It's you. It's going to be you. And you decided you'd never let him go.

Until he decided to leave.

He's so excited when he gets the call. When he makes his plans and packs his bags. When he tells you all about the good he's going to do, the hero he's going to become.

"I'll be back soon sunshine. You won't even know I'm gone."

You try to convince him to stay. With everything you've got in you. All your jokes, all your warmth, all your schemes. When that fails you give him your heart. Your tears. Explain that you can't live without him. That he can't expect you to live without him and not fall apart at the seams because he's the thread that holds you together. And when you see the anguish on his face at your confession, you revel a little because you think you've won. He's going to stay for you because of course he is. He's your David. He cups your cheeks in his hands. Lips meet your forehead as his words break your heart:

"I'm sorry sunshine. You know I have to go. I have to do this. You know."

So you wipe off your tears and you smile. Because that's what you're supposed to do for a friend and that's what you do for him. Give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Tell him to be safe.

"Don't get your butt kicked too much David. I need you back in one piece."

And that's the first time David York turns his back on your smile.

****

You wait for him. Like the inexplicable fool you are. Wander aimlessly in the streets around your childhood home like a spirit too tired to haunt anyone but itself. Waiting for him to come back and spark you alive again. Awakening for the few weeks of leave he has before reverting to your state of nothingness the minute the door closes behind him. Flitting like a ghost of yourself, nothing tethering you to this place, but still incapable of moving on without him.

Because he was David York. Your best friend.

Your good man. Your solid rock.

Until he wasn't.

Until he left.

****

You learn to make your way without him. Stumble, fall and scrape your knees more than once, without him by your side clucking and fussing like the mother hen he was. Without him to hold you up and bring you close:

"You’ve got to be careful honey. I can't be losing my sunshine."

You find a purpose and make your stand into the big bad world but all of it feels hollow without him by your side. You learn to stitch people up, bandage their wounds, hold bleeding skin in place and snap broken bones back together again. He laughs when he finds out, equal parts amused and proud.

"Looks like you became the anti-Dave sunshine."

And you smile for him, because of course you do. You don't tell him that everything you're learning, you're learning because of him. Because of the sheer wall of terror that's settled in your spine since the moment he walked away. Because of the David that comes to you in your dreams. The one that crumbles in front of you; broken and damaged and begging for help. The one you're trying so hard to save.

You may be his sunshine, but he was always your sun, and you'll protect him, even if he doesn't want you to.

****

The David that comes to you now is not yours. He's an off brand version of himself. A cheap copy. An imposter that calls himself Dave and smirks in a way that makes your skin crawl. He wears Davids skin but has none of his warmth. The sunshine in his smile is replaced by an ice cold sharpness and you hate that shivers it sends down your spine. His eyes have lost most of the humour they used to have, and when he hugs you he lets go a little too soon. A little too fractured, a little too cold. You hold on; assessing, caring, and wondering. Go to ask but he shakes his head; the look in his eyes silencing your questions before the words can form on your lips. The worry in your heart worsens.

When he walks you home you try again but he anticipates it. Like the predator he is now, he sees your strike coming, and retaliates in the one way he knows will force your silence. He kisses you. Hot and deep. Steals the air from your lungs and the words from your brain. Renders you shocked. When you open your eyes it's your David staring back again and your relieved smile has him pushing into you again. He kisses you until you're breathless. Again, and again, and again, until all your worries are dripping unvoiced at your feet and all your questions have been sucked into the air in his lungs.

You don't fall into each other as much as you attack. The culmination of years of circling each other and it all comes down to this. Mouths open, teeth clashing like you're trying to make your way into each others souls. His hands grab you so desperately, so fervently, that you wonder how he hasn't moulded you into his own chest yet. Your nails scratching at him like you're trying to carve a home in his bones. You’re trying to tear pieces of each other apart. Him, so he may take you with him and you, so you never have to watch him leave again. You devour every inch of him so reverently that the taste of him may remain embedded in your tongue forever. And he carves his way into you, soothing an emptiness that only ever craved him. Pounding in like he's trying to break you open and consume the light within. You cling to each other in the aftermath, breathless, sated and smiling, and you remember placing a kiss on his heart right before you drift off in his embrace.

You should've known, in retrospect, that that was as good as it was ever going to get.

He leaves you in an empty bed. Runs away before the dawn breaks like the consequences of what you both did are too ugly to be faced in the light of day. You turn the apartment upside down looking for one note, one glimpse, one hint of him that's not mottled on your skin and going to be torn away by the cruel hands of time.

You take the dismissal for what it is when you don't find one.

****

He comes back broken. Purple shadows under his eyes, a split lip and a wince that breaks you when you go to hug him. The storm breaks and you lunge. Too strung out to keep going like this any longer and too frazzled by thoughts of "what if it was worse" to think about the consequences of breaking your silence.

Your fists pound against the rock hard of his chest. The place that used to be your solace, your comfort, your home. Where you'd set your head too many times to count and where all your dreams ever went to rest. And they've turned it to stone, moulded him into a machine, changed him into something he's not.

"You're not a fucking hero David. You're not. And I'm asking you to stop trying to be one. I'm asking you to stop this self sacrificial bullshit and come back. Come home. You don't need to be a hero. You just need to be alive. I need you alive dammit! Why can't you see how much I need you?"

Your voice falters and cracks. It's out there now, the pieces of your heart; ugly, tattered and split open in front of him. Waiting for his judgement, for his grace. His face twists into a grimace, and you turn your head before he can see the tears fall. You don't need his apologies. His empty words and false promises of how nothing will ever happen to him, because it will, you know it will. So you hold up a hand before he can begin.

"It's okay. I get it. This is your life now, right? So will you forgive me then, if I can't stand around watching you try to kill yourself and wait for the day you inevitably succeed?"

Something in his eyes breaks at your words, and something in your heart does when he gathers you in his arms. The kiss on your temple feels like a goodbye. To your one solace, your one crutch and the only friend you ever had. And you know this goodbye will haunt you forever.

That's the one time you turn your back on David York.

****

He comes back with an extra sparkle in his eyes. Pleads and begs his way into your good graces and you indulge him because that's what you do for David. His smile has never been brighter. He may call you sunshine but he has always been your shining light, your beacon, the lighthouse you turn to.

But then he turns away. And in a split second, your world tilts on it's axis.

Carol.

Her name is Carol. Perfectly normal. Perfectly sweet. Perfectly perfect. He's got his hand in her hand and you don't understand. You can't. You refuse. Except.... David. He looks so happy. So content. Looks at her with all the devotion you've only ever given him, and all the love you wish he could've given you.

"What do think sunshine? I think she may be the one."

You smile. Because that's what you always do for David. You smile. It's an ugly thing. Fractured. Broken. He notices because of course he does. You've never been able to hide from him, ingrained as he is into your very soul. His smile falters and his eyes fill with sorrow and regret. Apologies for all he could never be and all the regret he has about it.

"You did good York. You'll be great together."

He flinches. He has only ever been David to you. He knows he has broken something irreparable. Opens his mouth to fix it. To swallow something back, say something else instead. Change the words, the letters, the combinations of decisions that led you both to this very moment. Something to keep you whole but the parts he shattered, however unwittingly, are already crumbling to dust in front of him. He closes his mouth. Swallows whatever lingered at the back of his throat. You smile at each other as you walk away. Him with her hand in his. You with the cloud of pain that comes from finally accepting the bitter truth for what it is.

He's not yours. Not anymore. Never will be again.

You never call him David again.

***

You miss him. Of course you do. Running from him was like running from a part of yourself; impossible, regretful and pointless. You were intwined into each other too thoroughly for there to ever be a clean cut through. You couldn't really walk away from him completely no matter what the distance on a map points out.

You know he'll call when he comes back again. He does. Shows up at the threshold of your sanity and the hardest thing you've ever done is ignore his voice when it calls to you. Voicemail, after voicemail, after voicemail. You listen to every single one but you can't call him back. His voice is your kryptonite. You'd walk back the distance if only you could but some tattered remnants of your self esteem hold you back. The last one comes with a letter in the mail. The glossy embellished card reminds you of the reason you walked away. The reason you could never go back. He pleads over static and tinny phone lines:

"Come on sunshine. I need you there. I'm sorry. I'm so s-. Please. I- "

Silence for a few minutes before the line cuts off. Typical of you both. To never say what you want and yet be assured the other knows exactly what you mean. He probably knows too. That you can't bear to see someone else's name next to his. The thought makes you nauseous; angry in a way that scares you, an evil coiling restless being inside of you, threatening to do as he asks. Go over there and scream in his face. The audactiy of this man to say he needs you when all you ever wanted was for him to pick you. Over the chip on his shoulder, the gun in his hand, the name on that card. Choose you. Love you. But you can't do any of that. You can't stand by his side and smile as he walks away with another either.

His only mercy is that he doesn't show up at your doorstep when you both know he could and you wouldn't be able to close the door in his face. Not him. Never him.

You throw the card away without opening it.

He forgives you.

But he never calls again.

***

Months turn to years and David York turns from a stabbing ache into a memory and then a ghost. He haunts you initially, at every turn, but slowly, over the years, the voice in your head softens down. He vanishes into the fog that lingers at the back of your mind and you stop looking over your shoulder for him to come back. You left him so suddenly, so abruptly, that you'd torn off pieces of yourself too. But time heals those wounds and you gradually learn to carry on as half of your bleeding heart slowly scabs and scars over.

You carve out a content little place for yourself, in a tiny corner of the world as you finally learn to love the reflection in your mirror. There's grey in your hair now. Wrinkles in your skin and hands hardened over from a life lived serving others. Saving who you can, when you can. A melody on your lips as you collect the parcels from your mailbox. Cocoa and bitter coffee long since mask the taste of his name on your breath.

There's a knock at your door and you flit to open it. Your smile, a pale imitation of what it used to be, plastered on, as you brace yourself to greet a well meaning neighbour or two. It falls quicker than lightning at the sight that greets you instead.

A man wavers at your doorstep. Unfamiliar in his familiarity. The ghost of a memory of a love never forgotten. Dripping crimson over the smiley face on your welcome mat. A haphazard bandage concealing half his face. One hand clearly broken. Arm bent at an angle too sharp to be natural. Angry streaks of purple and blue dancing around all visible patches of skin and he's trying to be nonchalant about the way he's favouring his right leg but failing miserably. Wheezing a breath that you know speaks of atleast one, if not several, broken ribs. And yet, despite all the damage and destruction and sheer agonizing pain he's no doubt in, the man smiles. Full and bright and warm.

"Hey sunshine."

And you reply.

A gasp. A plea. A promise.

David.

****

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Friend, I just screamed. SCREAMED.

How about this~ if I may request an Enji that happens to see a perfect little darling happening by and can't help himself...

...I'll happily write a request for you in exchange!

You'll get yours 😈 when I think of one

Subject: BNHA, Enji Todoroki aka Endeavor

Title: Future

Trigger Warning: Obsessive behavior, kidnapping, fantasizing, breeding (mentioned), Enji is a Karen confirmed

Enji fumed walking to his tailor. He had received a message from one of his sidekicks stating that his presence was "unnegotiable" at tonight's charity gala and worse, he needed a new suit within a handful of hours because he'd put on so much muscle mass that he'd burst out of his old one. It was turning out to be a rough and irritating day.

He shoved open the door to the shop, the little bell jingling to make his presence known--as if he needed it when his heavy footsteps.

A tiny figure popped up from behind the counter. "Just a minute! Mr. Ao is currently working with another client but I'll be more than happy to help when I put these swatches away."

Great, the apprentice. Well, it didn't matter to him as long as you sewed his suit correctly. He was paying good money for the best possible service, after all.

He didn't pay much attention when you lead him to a private fitting room. It wasn't until you closed the door that he remembered where he was. The private room was decently sized with a rack of premade jackets to the side, three mirrors that caught every angle in the room, a small table full of sewing equipment, and of course the dark wooded chair for Enji to sit in.

In this room alone with you, he finally processed who he was looking at. You. With your pretty little sewing apron and messy hair. Your tiny but nimble hands unwrapping the measuring tape. The way you politely commanded him to lift his arms as if you could possibly command him to do anything...

He wanted you. Bad.

Feeling your hard-working hands wrap around the meat of his muscles, giving a gentle squeeze to measure the give for the fabric. Your short arms struggling to wrap around his waist, pulling the measuring tape taught against the planes of his abs and dragging it up to the full curves of his sculpted pecs. He shivered when the tape scraped his nipples through his shirt.

"Are you cold?" You asked.

God, even your voice was cute.

"I don't get cold," Enji said. He was still grumpy, you being the cutest thing he'd ever seen hadn't changed that.

"Oh, okay." You picked up his old suit and examined it, comparing your new measurements with the old recorded in Ao's customer book. "Wow, you sure gained a lot of muscle Mr. Todoroki. Looks about a whole three inches of girth all around."

Why did you have to say girth? Now he was thinking about those little hands wrapped around the meat of his cock. Would those tiny hands of yours even be able to wrap around his balls? God, feeling you cup them would be amazing, desperately trying to wring his cum from them--

Now was not the time to be fantasizing, he reminded himself.

"Where's my tea?" Enji demanded, trying to get his mind off of you. "Mr. Ao always has tea prepared for his guests."

"Right! Sorry, sir." You skittered out of the room and returned with a paper cup of steaming green tea. When your hands brushed his for that split second of transference, Enji could have sworn he felt sparks.

When he married Rei it hadn't been for love. It had been about power when he spread her open and bred her. Enji knew of love and saw it everything and everyone but himself. But now... He felt it. This was love. Or at the very least, this was his breeding instincts begging for one last round in the ring.

Would you be a good girl for him, like Rei? Or would you fight him every step of the way? He could imagine you clawing at the wide expanse of his back, your tiny legs wrapped around his waist as he plowed into you hard enough to ensure you couldn't escape him the next day. You wouldn't want for anything under him, nothing but freedom--assuming you were coherent enough from his cock that you remembered you wanted it.

Shit, you were talking again. Oh you pretty little thing, didn't you know what you were doing to him? You had to know.

It took him everything to focus on what you were saying, "Since we don't have time to make a whole new suit, I thought maybe we could change the design to add more fabric in a fashionable capacity." You picked up a tablet and showed him a rough sketch of his jacket with red fabric inlaid in the seams to accommodate his size. Frankly he knew nothing about fashion so it looked good to him.

He just wanted you to touch him again.

"That's fine," he said. "As long as I have full use of my arms and legs. You wouldn't know anything about being a hero, but even the clothes we wear outside of work need to accommodate our movement as well as be quirk resistant."

"Of course, sir! Hero work is really intense. I can get started on your suit right away and have it delivered to your address with time to spare. Should I have Mr. Ao bill to the usual account?"

"Will you be the one delivering it?"

"Ah, no. We usually outsource deliveries, sir."

"Hm. I think it would be best if you did. That way you can come with me to the gala." What was he saying! "It would be... Uh, it would be a good way for you to show off your work, maybe make some connections. People from all walks of life will be there, I'm sure that this could be a good opportunity for you."

"I... I don't know what to say." You blushed, sweet and shy, confidence slipping in the face of opportunity. "I would love to."

"Excellent, my driver can take us there and back. Just dress nicely."

"Of course, sir, and thank you again. I'm going to get started on the modifications."

"Please do." Enji stood up, turning away from you quickly and coldy to walk out the door so you couldn't see the outline of his hardening cock in his pants.

He reminded himself to be patient.

Later that night when you arrived in your pretty, slim fitting dress and his bold but fashionable tux, Enji said, "You're a little early. Please come in. I'll make you some tea before I change."

"Oh, I don't want to bother you Mr. Todoroki!"

"It's no bother." He gestured for you to come inside and the moment your foot crossed the threshold of your new home, Enji firmly closed the door and locked it. "Now, why don't we talk about your future?"

[r4vn]

—SNAKE'S TONGUE

farleıgh x reader 【1/2】

w.c: 4,148

disclaimers: nsfw, cursing, heavy sexual tension, teasing, versfem!reader, vers!farleigh, heavy kissing/making out, enemies to lovers, porn w plot, impatient farleigh, fighting for dominance, slight ignorance? (lol you'll see), sexual frustration, arguing

—synopsis: your friend venetia invites you to stay with her for easter weekend. while you do, you bump heads with a sharp tongued male, who is around every corner you turn and you eventually go up against his words.

a/n: this will have a second part!!!..im soo sorry the intro is long. the places mentioned are also real places i couldnt make up anything lol kdjddkks. im rlly excited for you guys to read..i just love tension ahh...enjoy! stay tuned for the second part !

— part ²: here

「divider by @/ cafekitsune」

you had been friends with venetia since secondary school. she was a year older, you were 15 and she was 16. were you two the bestest of best friends? maybe not. but were you two were one of the only friends to each other since then. sure you had a couple of above surface friends, but venetia knew things personal of you. venetia was labled "the black sheep" in her family. one of the very few family members that didn't paint the world full of luxurious, narrow-minded bliss, yet had to play along on her exterior.

how you two became friends wasnt a rather complex story. you were sitting outside at breaktime during secondary school, fumbling with the hem of your school jacket on a bench. you watched as other cliques happily chatted about going to a cafe after school or grabbing dinner. it wasn't really your strongsuit on making friends, because it was always a hassle. venetia had suddenly appeared next to you, and her hand held out a couple of cigarettes. you were appalled she was just holding out a cigarette on school grounds so carelessly.

"no one's going to tell, just take it." you stared at the two cylindrical-shaped tobacco stick's between her fingers before briskly grabbing it to take it out of open view. she shoots you a half smile before lighting hers. you darted your head around to see the teachers occupied by other students or teachers, forcing yourself to relax your shoulders. you held up the cigarette toward the blonde, silently asking for a light.

"venetia, you?" you answered with your name before inhaling smoke into your lungs slowly. she nodded in response. the two of you sat in a mildly comfortable silence and watched others interact. it wasn't long till teachers signaled it was time to head inside again, you and venetia putting out the cigarettes and grinding them into the ground with the heel of your shoes. throughout junior high, you and venetia would sneak off for a smoke and get to know each other. you learned her last name; catton. she had a younger brother who was your age named felix, and lived in a grand home with acres that touched the horizon of the trees. from the words venetia described, she was well off coming from an even more well off family with a mini mansion.

you didn't find it weird that you never stepped foot in or at her home. you were completely fine with being surface level friends that oddly share every bit about your social and home life. although it makes sense considering you moved away the first year of college. from northamptonshire to bristol, england. luckily you and venetia had kept in touch up to university. you had gotten accepted to oxford university, excited to finally have the freedom of a university student. you had just finished your first term and had an amazing jumpstart. you were staying on top of your studies and found a couple of surface friends to go out with occasionally. now it was summer break and you were ready to get out of the university itself.

before oxford, you lived with your mother in a nice victorian styled home in bristol. your mother was a successful attorney. though she was present in your life, that doesn't mean she spent time with you. she was either always held up in her office for days or not home all hours of the sunlight. your father, that bastard, was not present due to a divorce that happened when you were about 9, leaving you and your mom with half his values for being unfaithful. he had an affair with a coworker of his. it didn't hurt as much as it should have, though you know at the thought of him, you resent him. you didn't have to get a job, as your household was financially stable. you had the things you wanted, nice house, your own car, and you never went hungry. you weren't poor but you weren't as wealthy as venetia either.

in your text conversations whenever you two talked about her home, she would send pictures of only her room, the common area and the gardens. you never pressed for more than what you were sent. but you were curious to see this home you'd conversed about for years now, and you were going to.

this school break, venetia had spontaneously invited you to stay at her home so you wouldn't have to be driving nearly 2 hours back home. she had never invited you over before. you were curious and excited.

"oh its so lovely to see you after all these years!" venetia exclaimed as she hugged you at the door. you smile and return the tight hug. venetia lets go of you after a handful of seconds and grabs your luggage for you, gesturing for you to come in.

"how was the drive? better than driving home 2 hours right?" she joked, smiling back at you.

"yeah," you responded in awe as you looked all around you. the home was beautiful. none of the photos venetia sent did it justice. the carved wooden frames and panels, color assorted rooms, vintage furniture, and even chandeliers in every room. it was breathtaking. "way better than driving back to a nearly empty home."

you hear venetia chuckle. she was clearly amused by your awe of her home. you quickly switched to a poker face as you continued to follow her and silently admired. she gave you a quick tour of the house, showing you the common room you two walked through first, several lounge rooms, the dining room, library, the tv room and finally her room. it looked better in person to you.

"this, is your room, the room next to me so knock if you ever need anything. and, if you go into this door here," you follow her as she opens a dark wooden door to a red wallpapered lounge room, walking across it. she then opened another door and revealed a bathroom suite.

"and here is your personal washroom." the walls were made of dark green tiles that contrasted the white tile floor. in the middle of the bathroom sat a white tub. you look to the left of the tub to see the sink with 3 mirrors, bordered by a gold encasing. the house was truly beautiful.

"now, i will let you get unpacked and freshened up, dinner is in an hour and a half. i will be in the tv room but if im not there, meet me and the rest of us in the dining room. oh! and wear something nice. we dress up for dinner, remember?" you nodded and waved her off as she exited. it was good she reminded you to bring a few formal pieces of clothing for dinner. or else you would've felt like a bum in front of her family. you took a breath, finally taking it all in. you felt so small in such a grand house. for once it felt nice to feel like the lower class. to experience such awe of a luxury in person felt like a reward of some sort.

regarding the amount of time before dinner you had, you began to unpack, fold and hang up your clothes in the old aged wardrobe. you grabbed your toiletries and placed them in the bathroom before looking at your reflection.

"i should shower, i feel kind of gross." you mumbled to yourself. you started the water, letting it run to fill the bathtub as you undressed yourself. when full, you slowly stepped in, your muscles immediately relaxing at the contact of warm water. it felt nice to finally relax after studying for hours. you dunk yourself underwater with a big breath of oxygen. the muffled silence of the water calmed you. it felt like a warm blanket was wrapped around you. you didn't stay in the tub long, knowing you were in a slight time crunch. exiting your calm thought bubble, you unplugged the drain and stepped out the tub.

you quickly dried yourself off before wringing out the excess water in your hair. heading into your room, you grabbed your off the shoulder black dress and slipped it on over your body. it was too late to blowdry your hair so you made a last minute decision to wear it slicked back, content with how it accentuated your features. you wore light smokey eye makeup and simply rubbed clear gloss on your lips. nothing too flashy. you finally finished getting ready and slipped on some low heels before exiting your room.

you have never dressed for dinner before. you did feel a bit overdressed yes, but you knew you looked good. you wandered around for a bit before finding the tv room, slowly opening it to reveal only one person. he didn't look familiar. he also wasn't in formal clothing. you began to feel really overdressed now.

"can i help you?" he asked in a bored tone. by his accent, and his choice of style, he was american. it threw you for a slight loop, because you didn't know venetia had an american sibling. you ran a hand through your damp hair before clearing your throat.

"i was looking for venetia, im a friend of hers. do you know where to find her?" you asked, noticing his eyes looking you up and down. he suddenly stood and walked slowly towards you till he was about a foot apart.

you held his gaze, but he decided to analyze you. from your hair to your make up to your outfit. you didnt mind, considering you knew you looked good. the two of you shared a long silence before he sighed audibly with a faux smile.

"well if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were dressed for dinner. so, did you try the dinning room?" he queried, sarcasm lacing his voice. all you did was roll your eyes and turn your heel to exit the tv room. you made your way to the dining room now, the american lingering in your mind.

what an ass. who even is he?

you were nearing the dining room now, anxiety filling your chest. you exhaled deeply and looked at the butler standing near the door.

"erm—..am i presentable enough, sir?" you asked the butler, in hopes of getting some words of encouragment. the bulter turned to you and scanned your dress, briefly nodding. it made you smile. it wasn't much but a little goes a long way. the 2 butlers simultaneously opened the door for you, revealing a moderately dimly lit room, and about 5 people at the table.

"oh [y/n] we were just talking about you!" mrs.catton exclaimed with the brightest smile. you returned the smile before sitting next to venetia, greeting her.

"its so nice to meet you mr. and mrs.catton." you proclaimed. mrs.catton scoffs with a laugh and a wave of her hand.

"please, elspeth is perfectly fine. this is my husband, sir james, my son felix and his friend oliver. he is also staying for break." you greeted everyone, making sure to remember their names to their faces. you didn't feel as tense anymore to know that you weren't the only guest in the home.

"so, do tell me about yourself [y/n]. as much as i've heard from venetia i would like to hear it from you! you're from bristol, yes?" elspeth rested her chin on the back of her intertwined hands to give you her full attention. you glance at venetia, who subtly mumbled a 'sorry', most likely for talking about you. there were no hard feelings though. you remembered how venetia said her mother had absolutely no filter.

"yes, i am from bristol. i used to live here, which is how venetia and i met, back in secondary school. but i moved before i started my college education." elspeth hummed in an interested tone, taking a moment to eat a bite of her food.

"and you moved because of your mothers work, yes? an attorney?" you nodded at her words, briefly thanking the bulter who brought you your plate.

"yes, my mum moved to bristol for her job. and well, i followed suit considering she provides for me." you chuckled out, getting a soft laugh from elspeth and sir james. as soon as elspeth opened her mouth again, the doors opened again to reveal the american from earlier. this time, he was in a black suit and looked more cleaned up than prior to meeting him.

"farleiiigh, you're laaate." felix mumbled in a singy-songy tone with his glass to his mouth.

"sue me, golden boy." farleigh waved him off and sat down with a sigh. as the curly brunette sat down, his eyes landed on you, who was sitting right across from him. he let out another gentle sigh before signaling the butler.

"as i was saying," elspeth started, clearing her throat. "an attorney ..wow, what a brilliant profession your mother went into. and its just you and her, yes? venetia said your father is out of the picture. is that unfortunate?" the blonde women questioned. you were prepared for her unfiltered questions but it seems venetia deeply disliked it, taking a big swig of her wine filled cup. you only laughed again, nodding.

"unfortunate isn't the word i'd use but rather ..well, fortunate really. i mean who would want to keep a bastard whore in their home?" your words seemed to of caught some of the table off guard, hearing brief chokes from felix, elspeth and venetia. though elspeth was the only one to laugh.

"oh yes! i like her, venetia! very open with her thoughts, yes." elspeth giggled as she sipped her glass.

"oh yes, very entertaining really. im curious though," you turned to farleigh, listening to his words. "do you think you're going to follow your mom's ..or your dad's footsteps?" he asked, a faint smug expression occupying his face. you rose a brow, keeping your facial expressions to a minimum. you force a laugh, taking a bite into the piece of meat dressed on your plate.

"well i would hope to follow in my mother's footsteps. what about you, farleigh? do you think you'll follow in, well, either of your parents footsteps?" you questoned sweetly. farleigh didnt answer. you could see his eye twitch, proably from irritation. you didnt know much about him, but from a general standpoint, and simply knowing he was american, you could say it was written on his sleeve. it interested you though. to know his history, and who he was.

"oh don't mind him [y/n]. farleigh is a cousin of ours. sir james' sister is his mother.” elspeth dramatically placed her hand up to her mouth to block it away from farleigh, loudly whispering. "she left to the states and had farleigh. so yes, we are stuck with him. but dont worry! we treat him like one of our own, because he is!" you glanced to farleigh, who simply rolled his eyes as he ate silently. you, too, began to eat quietly quietly as small conversations occupied the room.

°°°

finally being able to breathe a little lighter, you lay back on your bed starting up at the decorated ceiling. every single inch of this place was dazzling to you. before you got too tired, you quickly stood up and slipped off your dress to put on black flowy pajama pants and a thin-strapped black silk top. as it got warmer throughout the month, you noted to pack light flowy clothes for both the day and night.

you headed into the bathroom to wash off your makeup and brush your teeth for the evening. you then took the time to brush your now fully dry hair, swooping it over your shoulder, looking at yourself with content in the mirror.

its still early evening, maybe venetia is still awake?

you opened your door to head over to the door down from you, knocking gently.

"venetia? are you up?" you whispered, hearing nothing in return. you try the door, the knob turning open for you to reveal the room. it was gorgeous, yes, but it didn't look the same like in the photos she sent. there were a few luxury brand posters on the wall and the bed that was in front of the window looked as if someone got up. the burnt orange duvet decorated with a paisley pattern matched the sheets and pillow case. there was a chair occupied with clothes that were clearly from luxury brands and a half-open wardrobe which sat to the left of the bed, sharing the same wall as the window.

you had a feeling this was not venetia's room, but it was so stylish you couldn't help but look. the room faintly smelled of fresh green lush, amber and sandalwood, like a fresh walk through the forest. you looked around, daintily touching the duvet and grazing the cashmere cardigan woven with intricate design. you never owned any cashmere. then again, you weren't a complex girl.

out of the corner of your eye you noticed movement outside the window, walking up to the glass slowly. you were careful not to touch the bed but leaned against the bed frame. there were two figures out in the grass. one was sitting and the other kneeled down in front of them. you squint to focus your eyes before covering your mouth.

venetia.

you kept your mouth covered, watching in shock as felix's friend, oliver, touched and messily kissed your friend before going down south on her. she had crimson stains that trailed from her mouth down to her neck. you couldn't even comprehend what you were watching.

"find what you were looking for?" you immediately whipped around to the voice only to be met with farleigh. he was wearing a silk, light blue pajama set, the buttons of his shirt unbuttoned halfway down. he leaned back against the door frame, seemingly being present for several seconds prior to speaking.

"i– i was just–" you faltered, pointing and darting your head back to the window before looking at the brunette in front of you again. technically, he was right. you did find what– no, who you were looking for, just not in the way you'd have preferred.

"right. may i ask what youre doing in my room?" you didn't know how to answer, because there was no right answer for his question. you could say you were looking for venetia but he wouldn't accept that because she clearly wasn't present in the room. you swallowed thickly, taking a small step back.

"hello? snake got your tongue? or maybe you're stalking me? is that it?" you scoffed and shook your head, still only saying vowels instead of words. farleigh stood up and walked slowly towards you now, arms crossed.

"oh, i know, you wanna run a background check on the american because i'm the only one with skin pigment here, right?" your back hit the wardrobe, making you quickly realize there was nowhere to go. you furrowed your brows at his words, frustration beginning to bubble up inside you.

"oh is that the kind of game you want to play? the race game? ugh i swear that's all you americans think about." you bit back, noticing subtle shock in farleighs face. "frankly, i don't care if you're american or if you're english. its easy enough not to be a fucking stuck up cunt to anyone who doesn't own luxurious clothing or lives in a mini mansion. prick..." you mumbled the last word loud enough for him to hear. the tall brunette stared down at you silently, biting down on his lip.

"what .." you muttered out. "snake got your tongue?" your words earned a low chuckle from farleigh, his fingers caressing a strand of your [h/c] hair.

"remember whose house you're in sweetheart." he stated in a soft but poised voice. he gently grabbed your jaw, causing your stomach to do a flip before he slowly guided you back to the window by your face, forcing you to look.

"you see, they've been at it for about 10 minutes," he started, not looking away from you. "i think, oliver sees how damaged she is. and he can easily puppeteer poor sweet little ol' venetia into whatever he wants because he sees her. her damaged goods in this grand blessed home, like a fucking antithesis," he stands behind you as he speaks, he other hand leaning on the wall next to the two of you. you wish you had a mirror just to see what the position of you and him looked like. "the worst things are found with the best things. like a beggar on the street outside a luxury store."

you clenched your jaw at his words. farleigh felt it at his fingers, chuckling next to your ear. "if you get my gist, im saying you don't belong here." having enough, you abruptly turned around to face the tall brunette.

"i belong here just as much as you do, if anything, more than you." you assured. immediately you felt slight regret in your words as farleigh stepped closers forcing you to fall back on the bed. as you leaned back on your elbows while he leaned forward with the palms of his hands pushing into the mattress. he tilted his head to the side, wearing a mischievous grin.

"you don't know me then if you think you, a working class girl, belongs here, over me." your heart twitched, looking at the new position you two were in. the moonlight lit up his face. his long eyelashes caught your attention first, then his nicely shaped brows. your eyes quickly made the tour around his features, briefly thinking how pretty his teeth were. white and perfectly aligned.

"i know enough. i have seen enough social butterfly pretty boy pricks to spot one out." you challenged, not budging for dominance.

"oh so you think im pretty?" farleigh suddenly asked, eyebrows raising out of curiosity. you suddenly flushed a warm pink and he taking notice of this. he began to lean down slowly, making you hold your breath. your eyes fluttered closed, opening again quickly as he kissed your flushed cheek, doing the same on the other side of your face.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd say you like to argue with me, sweetheart." he theorized. the tone of his voice dropped and your core felt warm, yet you didn't know if it was from aggravation or arousal. you looked away from him, fingers beginning to fidget with the fabric of the duvet.

"you're annoying to even be in the same room with, farleigh " you muttered, half lying to yourself. if anything, it was rather suffocating to be near him. the air was thick between the two of you and you couldn't handle it

"oh? i thought my name was prick." farleigh's smile became more prominent. he slowly interlaced your legs with his, sliding his knee right in between your thighs. you sucked in a slow breath between your teeth. you didn't know what to do with yourself.

fuck this.

you grabbed his jaw and pulled his face into yours, stopping just so his lips could brush against yours.

"no farleigh," a smile of arousal appeared on farleighs lips now, tilting his head forward to capture your lips. but you back up just out of his reach, and continued to tease him as he tried to kiss you again every few seconds. "i will call you whatever i want, sweetheart. and you will come when called." you whispered right up against his lips. a breathy laugh escaped past his lips and the faint smell of cigarettes occupied your nose.

you finally allow him to smash his lips against yours. your stomach filled with butterflies as he groaned softly into your mouth. his hand snaked under your silk top, his fingers roughly caressing the skin of your lower back and waist. you gasped into his mouth at his touch, arching off the bed for his arm to fully wrap around you.

the two of you mutually pull away, panting lightly. farleigh slowly licked across his bottom lip as he grabbed your chin, taking his hand away from your waist to tilt your head up to his. he leaned in again, planting another kiss on tour cheek before whispering in your ear.

"get out."

you chuckled gently in response to his command. you knew he didn't want to end. but alas, you complied and slowly pushed him off of you. you two both stood in close vicinity, staring at each other.

"with pleasure." you responded, before grazing his chest as you walked away, exiting his room.

a/n: stay tuned for more ! ty ♡ .

© r4vn ²⁰²⁴ , do not repost my work.