#stop stop stop stop stops top you’re hurting them

[amastarxoxo]

ㅤ        ㅤ            ⠀ꕀ⠀𝆹⠀⠀ׄ⠀⠀ִ⠀ worthless talking ⠀ּ ּ    ✧

Arguments with various characters

S1! jinx , S2! vi , S2! caitlyn , and ekko x fem! reader

arguing , mention of having a crush ( vi ) , hurt/no comfort , cursing , mentions of marriage ( caitlyn ) , drinking ( vi ) , mention of reader working in the brothel ( not prostitute ( vi ) ) , suspected cheating ( caitlyn ) , injured reader ( ekko )

not proofread or requested

JINX

arguments with her are usually light and can easily be dismissed or solved quickly but this is very different. silco has been pressuring her as of late about her weapon for the hex gemstone; which has been stressing her out and getting more irritated by everything little thing. “jinx baby?” you spoke softly, trying to not make her anymore irritated. “yes toots?” she frantically looking back and forth at her parts and blueprints for her fishbones, “are you doing okay? do you eat?”

she shrugged her shoulders, continuing to screw the screws in. you silently gulped and walked closer to her. “listen baby…can you take a break or something? i don’t remember the last time you slept or even eat and—” “shut up.” you immediately looked her way like you misheard her. “i-im sorry what..?” she kissed her teeth, “ i said shut up! all you ever do is nag and nag around me! do ever shut up? i’m trying to work so i can hurry up and finish this project, but no you just can’t seem to leave me alone while you’re—” she stops mid sentence, looking to see where you were last standing, “y/n?” she asked to absolutely nothing. she rolled her eyes, not bothering to think about you anymore, too focused on the hexgem project.

walking through the streets of Zaun, tears blurring your vision as you do your best to wipe them away but if anything you made your mind clear as day in Piltover; she doesn’t need you there anymore. continuing to walk through the lanes until you reached your home.

VI

pitfights. you hate no—loath them. so imagine your reaction to hearing that your crush becamea pitfighter after that massive fall out with the stupid top side girl. you watched as a friend of hers drag her up the stairs then she starts pushing him off and telling him to fuck off. you watch as the friend just walked away; already tired of her bullshit.

you breathe, mentally preparing yourself and your lecture of what you want to say as you head up the stairs slowly until you reached the door. out of curiosity, you reached for the doorknob, and its unlocked. ‘of course this idiot wouldn’t lock the door.’ you thought, twisting it and slowly pushing the door, seeing vi collapsed on the bed but still awake. you clear your throat loudly, catching her attention as you stand close to the now closed door. “vi.” your voice cautious but fed up. watching her destroy herself over a top side is so pathetic, even jinx powder would laugh in her face. vi groaned tiredly, “can’t seem to catch a fucking break anymore.”

“fuck a break! what do you think you’re doing?!” you wave your hand around, as you often talk with your hands. “what the hell are you talking about…!?” vi retorted back. “look around you vi, and your hair! your outfit! you’re a damn pitfighter.” you pointed at everything you mentioned, “why?! is it because of that fall out you had with that stupid top side girl..?!” vi abruptly gets up and stands in front of you. the smell of strong beer and whiskey clog your nose, in her breath, her clothes, everywhere, “don’t you dare bring her up.” you scoffed, “why not? she treats you like shit but now you’re a floor licking puppy for her..?” you stare at her, raised eyebrow, “at least she was better than you in many ways than one.” “excuse me?” “get the fuck out y/n. go back to being a fucking prostitute or something.” “i’m not a prosti—” she punched the wall next to your head, you flinch, hard. “out.” her voice threatening. your hands and feet quickly move as you open the door and fumble out of the apartment was vi was was.

CAITLYN

a lot has happened in a short amount of time, well, caitlyn proposed to you, then jinx blew up the council and killed her mother, then your fiancée became a damn Dictator and has been worked and training nonstop with Ambessa, and you’re starting to worry. she has been looking burned out a lot more and tired to even notice you sitting next to her on her desk as she stresses over paperwork.

“dear?” you twirled your finger around her loose hair. she jumps a bit, snapping out her thoughts and looking up to see her fiancée, you, “sorry darling, do you need something?” she fidgets with her pen and fingers, you smile at her weakly, “your dinner is cold.” you point to the cold dinner plate, nothing eaten on the side table next to her. caitlyn sighs heavily. “right, i apologize my dear, ill…make sure to eat.” “this is the fourth time dear. you can’t be a commander with zero energy.” you cross your arms over your chest, “i know know i’m just” “i’m starting to think ambessa was a bad idea again. i worried about all this pressure and process. like especially after your mother died, this isn’t good..” caitlyn’s fist banged against the desk, stopping you mid sentence.

“i don’t need your pity or concerns right now.” you stare at her, confused. “what are you talking about right now dear?” “i’m saying you talk too damn much.” she stood up, the chair scratches against the floor and walks away from the desk, “where are you going?” you asked while sliding off the desk, “out. i need some fresh air.” you tilt your head to the side and keep your arms crossed, “fresh air? or maddie?” the blued hair commander stopped dead in her tracks, “what…what did you just say?” you scoffed, as you walked past her, bumping her shoulder. you open the door, revealing maddie with paper works in her hands, “i’ll take my leave.”

EKKO

patrolling the area around the safe area, but your mind consumed with the thoughts of your boyfriend, he’s starting to overworking again. and that’s pissing you off. months of you guys dating and he still doesn’t get the memo. you sat on top of the tunnel entrance towards the hideout. staring up at the stars, wishing ekko was here with you.

suddenly, you feel a long cold metal jabbed into your side. you immediately clutch it to stop it from entering further until the culprit kicked you in the back, causing you to roll off the top and your body thudding against the cold concrete then you saw black. you wake up, the knife removed and you’re wrapped in bandages around your stomach and your arm is in a cast. your eyes adjust to the light shining down upon you, you wince as a headache rises and you hear muffled sounds of someone screaming your name. once your mind finally adjusts to everything, you hear ekko,

“hey hey hey! firebug! what happened?” his hands placing everywhere patting you down. you wince again, “ekko…that hurts..” you fully open your eyes. “what happened? why did someone find you outside of the base, bleeding out?” he raised his voice, not scary but scared. “i…i was patrolling around the entrance and—” “patrolling? didn’t i say you’re not allowed to patrol unless i’m there?” his voice switch to low. “i can take care of myself ekko.” he gritted his teeth, “well clearly you can not! look at you now! you don’t ever listen huh?” he started pacing back and forth, “it’s like you’re deaf or something, i said no! and you do the entire fucking opposite!” he grabs his mask and hoverboard, stops to say something but rejected that idea and just left.

ekko was so hard to do ngl cause what has he done for to cause an argument🧍‍♀️and you notice how short-ish jinx is? yea cause i can never actually be mad at jinx.

©︎ A M A T E R A S U. all rights reserved. please don't plazarize, copy, or steal any of my works without my permission, thank you !

[eu-nicola]

enemies

summary: the love-hate relationship between Rafe and you

warnings: small mention of violence

word counter: 4151

author's note: english is not my first language

The first time you met Rafe Cameron, you were barely six years old. You clearly remember how his stepmother, Rose, welcomed you into her home with a perfect smile, while your mother insisted that you play with him and Sarah so that you wouldn’t be alone. 

The Cameron house was as intimidating as its miniature owner. Rafe was nine years old and had an attitude that made him seem much older. He looked down at you from the top of the stairs as if you were an intruder, someone who didn’t deserve to be in his space. 

“She’s the Davies’ daughter?” he asked in that mocking tone that would become his trademark. 

“Yes, and I want you to be nice to her.” Rose ruffled his hair before turning to you, but Rafe’s gaze was already fixed on your shoes, which were muddy from playing outside before coming in. 

“I hope she doesn’t touch anything, Rose.” His voice was dry, as if he was already tired of you before he really met you. 

From that day on, your relationship with him was marked by constant clashes. Every visit to the Cameron house felt like a cold war disguised as childish games. He always found ways to make you feel out of place, like the time he took your doll from your hands while you were playing with Sarah and threw it across the garden.

“If you don’t know how to play well, don’t play.” That phrase of his stuck in your mind.

In adolescence, the gap between you grew wider. While Rafe became the most popular boy among the Kooks, you began to spend more time with the Pogues. Your visits to the Cameron house became less frequent, and when they coincided, things always ended badly.

“Look at you, you’re a Pogue now.” His tone was always hurtful, accompanied by that arrogant smile that got on your nerves.

“And you’re still the same idiot as always.” Your response was almost automatic, as if after so many years the discussions between you were a rehearsed routine.

But the real problem wasn't just his words. It was the way he always found a moment to annoy you. During a beach party hosted by Kooks, for example, Rafe made sure your drink ended up spilled all over your new dress.

But it wasn't all enmity, when the search for gold began, your world became more complicated. You spent your days with the Pogues, planning, looking for clues, and trying to avoid Rafe, who seemed willing to do anything to get the treasure. The tension between you, which was already high, skyrocketed. It wasn't just childish enmity now; it was real danger.

Rafe had no limits. His eyes were always filled with that spark of arrogance, but behind it was something darker, something that made him unpredictable. Despite that, you never imagined you'd find yourself in the position you found yourself in one afternoon in the dense woods surrounding the Outer Banks.

You were following a trail of marks on the trees along with JJ and Kiara when you heard a noise. You broke away from the group, promising them you’d be back quickly. What you found was Rafe, kneeling beside a steep slope, holding his leg in a wince of pain. The ground beneath him was wet, almost muddy, and it looked like he might slide down any second. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and pretend you hadn’t seen him. After all, Rafe wouldn’t have done the same for you, would he? But another part, that part you always tried to stifle, knew you couldn’t just leave him there. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe snapped at you as you cautiously approached. His voice was heavy with distrust, but there was also a hint of relief he tried to hide. 

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened?” You couldn’t keep the tone of your voice from being harsh. After all, he had done a lot of things that warranted your hatred. 

“I slipped. My leg… I can’t move it.” His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush away the mud that covered his pants.

There was a long silence. You could have left him there. You could have turned and gone back to the Pogues. But something inside you wouldn’t let you.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” you said as you crouched down beside him.

Rafe looked at you in disbelief. “Are you helping me?”

“Shut up and don’t make it harder, Cameron.”

You offered him your arm and helped him up, leaning his weight on you as you slowly moved forward. It was an awkward process; his size made each step harder. But there was something odd about the silence you shared, a momentary truce amidst all the hostility.

When you finally dropped him off somewhere safe, away from danger, Rafe looked at you with a mix of wounded pride and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” he said at last, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” His tone was softer than you’d heard before, almost vulnerable. You turned slowly to look at him.

“What?” you asked, tired.

“Did you see anything?” His question was direct, his gaze piercing.

You understood immediately. Rafe wasn’t just hurt; he was there for something related to gold. Maybe he’d found a lead, something he didn’t want the Pogues to know about. You could have told him the truth, that you’d noticed a map in his pocket when you helped him, but you chose to lie.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Your voice was firm, although inside you felt a small knot of guilt.

Rafe seemed to relax a little, although he still looked at you with distrust.

Later, when the Pogues found a clue that fit too well with the area where you had seen Rafe, he understood what you had done. Someone, perhaps Sarah, told him that you were near the area when you separated from the group. It didn’t take much for him to put the pieces together.

The next time you saw him, his expression was completely different. There was no vulnerability or truce anymore, only fury.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he snapped at you, coming dangerously close.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to remain calm, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You lied to me. You took what was mine!” His voice was filled with rage, and though you knew it was unfair, there was something in his eyes that made you feel a pang of remorse.

“I don’t owe you anything, Rafe.” Your response was cold, though inside you felt more affected than you wanted to admit.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you. Finally, he took a step back, but not before making his feelings clear.

“Don’t ever cross my path again, Pogue.”

That was the beginning of a new phase in your feud, more bitter and personal than ever.

Your relationship with Rafe Cameron had reached a point where hatred seemed to be the only thing that united you. After your “betrayal” during the search for gold, any vestige of truce between you vanished. Although you would never admit it, there was something inexplicable that brought you back to square one: an enmity filled with tension, resentment, and something deeper that neither of you understood.

One of the worst fights you had occurred during a rainy night in the Outer Banks. The Pogues had been following Rafe, convinced that they had found another important lead to the gold. The chase led them to an old abandoned port, where you finally confronted them face to face.

“Always after me, aren’t you?” Rafe looked at you from the shadow of a warehouse, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. The sound of the rain beat hard against the metal roof, but nothing could drown out the intensity of his voice.

“You have no right to that gold, Cameron.” Your words came out loaded with defiance as you clenched your fists. You knew you were probably playing with fire by facing him, but something in you couldn’t stop.

“And you are?” he replied, taking a step towards you. His eyes, dark under the rain, were filled with rage. “What makes you think you’re better than me, Pogue?.”

“For starters, I don’t try to kill people for him.” Your words made him laugh, a dry, bitter laugh that made you feel a chill.

“You think so?” Rafe leaned a little towards you, his voice lowering to an almost whispering tone. “You know perfectly well that you would do anything to protect your own, too. We’re not that different, even if it pains you to admit it.”

The argument soon turned physical. He tried to take the map from you, and you fought back with all your might. It was as if you were both so consumed by rage that nothing else mattered. You fell to the ground, feeling the cold wetness of the cement against your back, as Rafe tried to hold you down.

“Let me go, you moron!” you screamed, kicking him in the stomach.

“Give me the damn map!” he roared, clinging to your wrist.

For a moment, you thought it would all end there, that one of you wouldn’t walk away from this fight. But something changed. Rafe looked you straight in the eyes, and for a moment, his grip softened. He looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep hurting you.

Finally, he let go of you and stood up, breathing heavily.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

“What…?” you were speechless, still lying on the ground.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps away from you.

“Go away. Take the damn map and go away.”

But not everything always ended in a truce. There was another time when it was you who had to decide between helping him or letting him face the consequences of his own actions. It was during a smuggling operation that Rafe had organized to finance his obsession with gold. You found him cornered in an alley, with a group of men who clearly did not have friendly intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped at you when you appeared at the end of the alley. He was bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow, but he still maintained that defiant attitude.

“I saw your truck nearby.” You approached cautiously, analyzing the situation.

The men paid you no attention at first, but soon realized you could be a problem. One of them advanced towards you with a menacing smile.

“Another friend of yours, Cameron?” he said mockingly.

“Get out of here, Pogue. I don’t need your help.” Rafe’s voice was firm, but there was something in his gaze that made you stay.

Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t just leave him there. You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard at one of the men. It was enough to distract them and give Rafe a chance to fight back.

You helped him escape, though as soon as you turned the corner, Rafe turned to you, furious.

“Why do you keep butting into my business?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Because I’m not like you, Rafe. I can't let someone die, even if they're an idiot like you.” Your answer made him let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn't say anything else.

In the end, it was always the same. They hurt each other, they hated each other, they betrayed each other... but they also always found a way to forgive each other. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was because you saw something in Rafe that others didn't see, or maybe it was because deep down you knew you weren't as different from him as you wanted to believe.

The only thing you knew for sure was that, no matter how hard you tried to hate him, something always made you go back to him. And the worst of all was that Rafe seemed to feel the same way.

Rafe Cameron drove you crazy in every possible way and that made you uncomfortable and annoyed, despite always finding gold on your path, you also found it on your path when you were calm, reminding yourself that you couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to.

There were nights when the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. The humidity was sticking your clothes to your skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made you feel this way; it was him.

Rafe Cameron always managed to find you, even when you didn't want to be found. His mere presence seemed to charge the atmosphere with an almost palpable tension, something that only existed between the two of you. Like that time on the dock, under the dim light of a broken streetlight. You were alone, waiting for JJ and Pope, when you heard their footsteps, firm, sure, approaching.

Your body tensed before you turned around. There he was, standing, with that arrogant posture that you detested so much. His messy hair and clenched jaw gave you every reason to hate him more than you already did. But as you looked at him, feeling his gaze sweep over every detail of you, there was something different, something that made you stop.

There was anger in his gaze, yes, but there was also something deeper, something dark that you recognized because you felt it too. Your hands clenched into fists, not because you wanted to hit him—though that was of course a tempting option—but because you wanted to stop the impulse that made you think about getting any closer than necessary.

It was a constant tug-of-war. One moment you wanted to push him into the water, make sure he disappeared from your life forever. But then, a part of you wanted to do the complete opposite, you wanted to get closer, erase the distance between you, and find out if that tension could transform into something more.

Rafe leaned against one of the dock posts, looking at you with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Everything about him seemed designed to provoke you. His gaze fixed, his shoulders relaxed but ready to move at the slightest hint of threat. It was so unbearably irritating, and yet, there was something you couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew hard, and you felt a chill run down your spine, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was that unmistakable feeling of being on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t control.

You wanted to kill him. For all the times he had made you feel less than, for every hurtful word, for every betrayal and fight. But at the same time, you wanted to get close enough to know if that spark you felt between you could catch fire.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you took a deep breath, ignoring how your heart was pounding. You turned your back on him, your steps firm on the wood of the dock as you walked away. You knew that if you stayed one more second, the line between hate and desire could blur forever. And you weren't ready to face what that meant.

You felt him stand still, watching you as you left. You didn't need to look back to know that that feeling would continue to haunt you, just as much as he did.

And you were right, a few days later that line blurred.

There was a storm that night, one of those that seemed to split the sky in two with each flash of lightning. The rain was pounding on the roof of the old abandoned cabin where you had taken shelter, trying to escape the chaos that the Pogues and Rafe had caused in the last gold hunt. Your hands were shaking with rage, not so much from the cold, but from the frustration of knowing that Rafe had, once again, gotten you into this situation.

You were alone, at least that's what you thought, until you heard the door slam open. You turned quickly, looking for something to defend yourself with, but seeing that unmistakable figure enter soaked to the bone, your heart stopped.

Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you thought, although you didn't bother to say it out loud.

He slammed the door behind him hard, shaking off the water like a rabid dog. His dark hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, as if he had run a marathon. His gaze met yours almost immediately, filled with that mix of fury and something more that always seemed to burn between you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t look away either. There was something about him that night, something different. It wasn’t just the usual anger you two shared, or even the constant tension that seemed to surround you like a force field. It was something rawer, more real.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the roar of the storm outside. You felt the air in the cabin grow thicker, charged with electricity, as if lightning was about to strike right there.

“What? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?” You had crossed your arms, trying to hide the trembling that ran through your body.

He didn’t answer, but he took a step towards you, slow, deliberate. You could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed on you, as if he could see past the facade you always tried to maintain. Your heart began to beat faster, and you hated that he had that effect on you.

“Rafe, don’t start,” you warned yourself mentally, even though you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to avoid.

But he kept coming closer. You could see every detail of his face now: the raindrops sliding down his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together as if he were holding something back. His presence filled the small space between you, and suddenly, the hatred you’d always felt for him didn’t seem enough to explain what was happening.

You didn’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but in an instant, the distance disappeared. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth crashed into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, as if all that pent-up rage had finally found an outlet.

Your hands clutched at his wet shirt, trying to push him away and pull him in at the same time. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tender. It was an explosion of everything you had bottled up for years: the hatred, the frustration, the attraction that neither of you wanted to admit.

You felt his body press against yours, trapping you between him and the wall of the cabin. His breath was hot against your skin, mixing with the cold of the storm that continued to rage outside. His every move seemed to call out something you didn’t know you’d been holding back, and for a moment, you let yourself go.

But it was only a moment.

Suddenly, you pulled away, your hands on his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“This… can’t happen.” Your voice was barely a whisper, shaky but firm.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you said it all. There was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, something vulnerable that completely disarmed you.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Rafe didn’t try to come closer again, and you didn’t dare look him in the eye as you turned away, your heart pounding so hard you felt like it might explode.

After that night in the cabin, something changed, though you both tried to act like it hadn’t. That first time was an accident, you kept telling yourself, something driven by rage and storm. But what happened next made it clear that there was something more, something that went far beyond hatred or tension.

It wasn’t long before you met again. It was in one of the alleys behind The Wreck, where you had hidden yourself after a fight with Sarah and the others. Rafe appeared as if the universe was conspiring against you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with that mix of arrogance and determination that seemed to be part of his essence.

“You’re not here to worry about me, Cameron. What do you want?” you had snapped harshly, crossing your arms as if that physical barrier could protect you.

He didn’t answer right away, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. What followed was just as impulsive as the first time: his lips finding yours with a burning urgency, your hands clinging to his shirt as if the world could fall apart at that moment and you wouldn’t care.

Logic disappeared when you were with him. All you had left were pure emotions: desire, rage, need. In those moments, you didn't think about the past or what was coming next. You didn't think about the fights, the betrayals, or the reasons why you were supposed to hate him. There was only his hands on your skin, the sound of his breathing, and the way he managed to make you forget everything else.

But the next day, there was always something that reminded you why you hated him. Like that time you saw him bullying Pope at the dock, his overbearing attitude making it clear that the Rafe of last night and the Rafe of today were two sides of the same coin.

"You're an asshole," you had yelled at him later, when you faced him away from the others.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care, but his gaze searched yours, almost defiant.

"Don't expect me to change for you," he seemed to say without words.

You walked away furiously, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You couldn’t keep falling for that game, not when he was still the same cruel boy you’d known all your life.

But then, something always drew you back. Like when he found you after you were almost caught in one of John B’s crazy antics. He helped you escape, even covering for you when the Kooks passed by. It was an unexpected gesture, one that left you bewildered as you shared a moment of calm on an old boat hidden in the swamp.

“Thanks, I guess,” you’d told him, though your words were filled with skepticism.

He smirked, the kind of smile that always got on your nerves.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

But you thought about it. Every gesture of his, every glance, every clandestine kiss was etched into your memory, fueling a cycle you couldn’t break.

Of course, you had your part in that dynamic, too. There were times when your own actions infuriated him, like the time you stole information from him about the gold hunt and shared it with the Pogues. His reaction was explosive: he found you on the dock, his gaze filled with betrayal and fury.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

For a moment you thought he would leave you there, that this would be the end. But no. Even though you had betrayed him, even though you had defied him in every way possible, he always came back. Just like you came back to him.

[coeurify]

“it’s november.”

the words have you jumping, the unsolid, rounded edges of the stool you’re currently standing on wobble with the movement of your foot. a squeak follows, rushing to find your balance— which is fine so by pressing your hand against the wall you were trying to reach the top of.

the hand that’s currently holding a string of multi colored christmas lights, the green trail of side dropping below you, your stool and the wall you had already pinned them to.

“it’s november,” the voice repeats— belonging to your girlfriend ellie, who walks behind you and peers up. the sweater she wears is pushed up to her elbows, pooling the cloth in a way that makes her look a little silly. as silly as the tone of voice she uses as she continues her obvious teasing. “and you’re already putting christmas lights up?”

your lips pout out immediately at the words, huffing as you press your sock clad feet. “november is almost over el. this is an absolutely valid time to put these up.” you wave your hand holding the clump of lights around, much more steady on your little wooden stool you were using for some added height.

“babe, thanksgiving hasn’t even passed,” ellie continues— and you can see her shaking her head even out of the corner of your eye as your head turns back to the wall— jaw clenching as you press up on your toes again to hand the light over the next pin. the small chuckle that the sight of you struggling to reach the spot seems to bring only annoys you more— head snapping to look over your shoulder with a look ellie liked to call your ‘scary eyes.’

“you can’t even— baby you can’t even reach. how did you get all that up?” ellie tries not to laugh but she can’t help it, the bursts of giggles slipping from her lips before she can stop them, green eyes trailing over the soft and cozy living room you two shared. somehow, alone with your little shitty stool.. you had covered at least half of the room while she was napping. “let me help,” she offered, a hand reaching out to steady your leg.

“no!” you complain, kicking your leg out a little to shrug off her hand. it only brings the wood below you to rock some more, which makes ellie grip a little harder. “you’re being judgy. i don’t want your help.” you sound petulant, maybe a little hurt by her amusement that you were doing this now.. alone.

“i am not being judgy,” ellie soothes her hand over your leg as you reach forward and successfully hook the sting of wired lights over the next spot. “you are, and you’re basically the same height as me— you can’t reach shit either.” you continue, the dig at her height a teasing one, paired with an eyebrow raise and fleeting glance back at her.

“ow?” ellie’s free hand clamped over her chest in faux hurt— the ragged cut strands of deep auburn hair shaking with her head. you find yourself watching the movement and fighting away a smile. “i meant by keeping you steady but if you wanna be mean i can totally let you do it all.” ellie pinches your leg over the fuzzy sweatpants you’re wearing. if it was anyone else you might be a little worried she was actually hurt.. but you can hear the humor seeping into her words and drawing out her sentences.

“fine,” the sigh that comes with the tingle word makes it seem like this decision was just absolutely the most difficult one you’ve had to make— the dramatics always evident. “i guess you can help. but only if you quit saying i’m doing it too early.”

honestly, you had planned to finish this little light hanging before she was done with her nap. she worked a long day with joel, you wanted to surprise her. and okay.. maybe you had seen one or two too many videos about the holidays that had given you the itch to decorate something and right then. but clearly the surprise element was lost, and ellie’s sarcastic taunting had replaced it. so now maybe you’re doing it out of spite. who knows, maybe you’ll even put on the santa clause after.

ellie’s fingers raise to her mouth, fake zipping them and nodding quickly. the urge to roll your eyes is one you act on, scoffing at her before you turn again and feel the steady warmth of her hands on both of your legs now, shifting you a little bit further down the wall for the next spot.

your lip falls between your teeth again, toes straining against your feet as you push as high as you can to get the next spot and—

“okay but you can admit most people wait for after thanksgiving right?”

“ellie!”

[lifegrowsfromashes]

Scar stares up at the moon, from where he lays down in his bed. Grian’s across from him, muttering into the darkness, laying on top of the covers and tucking his head into his wings.

The air smells like dirt.

He thinks of the past day. Of the shouting. He wonders whether Grian will talk to him tomorrow.

He didn’t mean to lose a life. he never does, but something always happens. Grian knows he’s not as strong as the other hermits, but he still refuses to recognise it, and always expects more from Scar than he’s able to give. It was once they’d gotten to the desert that his face became harder, that something began to set behind his eyes.

He sighs. The perfectly arranged checkerboard of stars stare back at him, silent. Grian’s snoring, but just a little. He wonders if avians usually snore.

Scar breathes in the smell of their dirt house, and wonders whether he’ll be able to make it up to him.

He was joking around, when it happened. The sand was getting into his armour and he felt creaky all over. He’d known it was getting to Grian, but hadn’t realised the extent of his annoyance. Communication was… never a strong point.

They had started getting snappy with each other, at about midday. Scar’s limbs were aching, and he needed to rest, but Grian kept talking about how there were no torches around here and if they stopped now, they’d get eaten alive. And Scar didn’t want to think about that, so he tried to tell a joke, and Grian went all tense and funny, and said, through gritted teeth, ‘you’re seriously making a joke right now?’ and he didn’t have time to see the creeper coming up from behind him.

Something had hardened in Grian’s eyes. The urgency when he told him to run. The enchanted shine of his diamond sword coming out of its hilt.

Scar hadn’t realised. The sand had slowed down his reflexes. Once he turned around to fight, he only heard a hiss, and then- white.

The funny thing about dying here was that you didn’t feel the pain, specifically. It’s more, like, God, this should hurt. But nothing comes. Just a choice, to keep going, or to leave. 

Scar hated the artificiality of it. Death always felt so- unreal. For some players, it was the end of everything, but to him, it was more of a reminder. A taunt. He knew he'd never last long enough to escape its clutches.

When he came back, he felt lighter. Emptier. Something, some intangible thing, had withered his soul, a little. He looked up at where his nametag resided to see it was a sickly yellow. And then, coming over the dune of sand- Grian. Sat there, in the crevice the creeper had made, sorting his belongings into a chest.

Grian’s fists were curled tightly over the lump of gold in his hands. The totem. The totem Grian had told him, over and over, to use in an emergency, to keep by him at all times. The totem Scar had stored in a shulker.

Scar did his best to pick everything up off the floor, and to sort it all out into his inventory, But Grian had such a tight hold on that totem of undying, and when Scar asked for it back, Grian’s eyes began to shine with tears. And then he started shouting. 

It was all the usual things. Scar didn’t react fast enough, Scar couldn’t pull his weight, Grian was always picking up the slack, and why couldn’t he last longer than five minutes? And didn’t he know he’s only got three chances, and he’s already down to two? 

Scar got pretty good at taking it. The thing was, he knew the reason why. the real reason. 

Grian hated watching him die.

But he’d never say that. Instead they were trapped in this loop of Scar messing up, and Grian exploding, and him doing everything, everything he could, to fix it.

Usually, Mumbo would be the one to sort out their differences. Mumbo would tell them somthing to calm him down, something easy, about their explosive personalities. 

Scar wonders where he is, now. After the Warden had appeared, anyone who was able to survive that first attack had ran as far as they could. They hadn’t heard anything for the other Hermits for- well, it had been too long to tell.

Scar turns over to face Grian again. He looks so peaceful when he slept. There's still that fire, though, behind his eyes, the memory of his voice scorching Scar’s ears. But, as Mumbo said, that was how you knew he cared. Scar knew he cared. He just wishes he could show it in a way that was less… aggressive. He feels like the only way he could find out how Grian really felt about something was through fighting. And, God, he's so tired of fighting.

[sugarushwriting]

exotic dancer lee minho x reader

you just ended a relationship, your friends try to cheer you up

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

too lazy to proof read sorry

“come on it’ll be fun!”

“momo, you’re talking about male strippers!”

“ah ah, exotic dancers!” momo tsked.

momo and your three other friends dragged you into the strip club where the exotic male dancers were.

background context: you were just dumped by your fiancé of 6 months, who claimed he didn’t love you or wanted to be with you.

you both had dated on and off for 3 years, before he finally proposed 6 months ago. turns out he felt pressured and didn’t want to actually be with you anymore.

3 days ago you found him out in public with his new girlfriend. who yunjin did some digging on, and found your ex had been seeing her for 3 months.

while you two were engaged to be married.

it hurt you. you tried so hard to act like it didn’t, because truth be told, you weren’t actually happy with him. you also felt pressure and the need to be married.

you were in your late twenties, the only thing you had were your career and cats. although that was enough to you, it wasn’t enough for your parents. it wasn’t necessarily that they wanted grandkids, but someone who would take care of you once they pass on.

although you were independent, your parents didn’t want to see you grow old and alone.

inside, the club was all dark lights, poles galore, and shirtless men even more.

before taking a seat, you all stopped by the bar to grab drinks.

you weren’t complaining about the view, it’s just something you weren’t used to—or ever did.

“what am i supposed to do?” you asked lost, looking around.

momo led you and your friends to a booth, a pole and stage in the middle.

“relax, let the men dance for you, and tip!”

“do i touch them?”

“only if they invite you to.” momo winked.

you looked at the pamphlet on near the booth’s table, “it looks like this dancer’s name is, cat daddy?”

“mhm, he can be the daddy of my cat, any day.”

“sana, you don’t have a cat.”

“yes i do, and she’s purring right now.” sana laughed, mina, nayeon and momo joining in.

it took you a while to understand the innuendo, and you joined in the laughter, you all quickly quieting down when a man with cat ears came into view near the booth.

with a smirk, he bowed, his muscles showing off in the black sleeveless top he had on, and the tight black pants showing his strong thighs.

“i’m cat daddy, how can i help you beautiful ladies this evening?”

sana and mina fanned themselves, momo engaging in conversation with a pout, “our friend here just went through a terrible break up and could use a great distraction.” momo’s hands were on your shoulder to let the man know who it was.

“i’m sorry to hear that miss, but i can be of great service to distract you.”

“mhm, would you be a great service and give her a private dance? on me, of course, i’ll pay.” momo smirked, catching you off guard as your eyes went wide.

“mo—,” you went to say but she patted your bare thigh to get you to hush.

“of course, is the lady okay with that?” he turned to you, an eyebrow raised up. almost a little taunting or dare for you to say no.

“oh, yeah, i’m okay with that.” you replied.

with a smile, he grabbed your hand, your friends cheering in the back ground. the man led you in hand to the back, where many private rooms where, accompanied by a couple of guards by the main entrance.

“should i call you cat daddy? or is there another name i can use? or maybe you would like to know my name?” you rambled off. you ended up telling the man your name.

with a chuckle, he turned around to face you, a big smile plastered on his face. “i’ll all you kitten. fitting to my name, right?”

“i mean yeah—,”

“and you can just call me daddy.”

your eyes once again went wide, your body rigid at his words. not only your heart thumping in excitement, but also down south.

he pulled you into a vacant room, closing the door behind him, after turning the sign on the door, to say ‘occupied.’

he gestured for you to sit on the chair of the bed in the room.

you choose the bed as it looked the comfiest. “see, uh, i’ve never been at a place like this, so i don’t know what to do,” you rambled as you sat.

he never took his eyes off of you, like a predator stalking his prey.

you kept rambling, unaware of (or trying to ignore) him getting closer to you, soon his face right in front of yours, almost nose to nose.

“lay down kitten.”

“what—,”

you gasped when he forcefully laid you down, you suddenly sitting up on your forearms to look at him like he lost his damn mind.

that thought quickly went away, when he took off his shirt, almost teasingly, rolling his body as he did.

he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs so he stood in between them. grabbing your hands, he held them against his abs, your fingers scratching along, his head tilting back as he moaned lightly from your cold touch.

he guided your hands up to his chest, and around his neck, as he leaned down to your ear. “if you let me, i can make you forget and feel real good for whatever that ex of yours did.” he whispered, sending shivers down your body.

he leaned back to look you in your eyes, you lost in his. he looked so innocent with those eyes of his, but you had a feeling, deep down, he wasn’t so innocent when it came to bed activities.

you smirked, “as long as the ears stay on.”

he smiled back knowingly, “mhm, kitten, i knew you had a side to you that was masked by that innocent act.” he kissed your neck, and whispered, “call me minho.”

minho kissed you once, before his hands grabbed yours again, this time to his pants, wanting you to help him take them off.

you didn’t expect your girls day to turn into a girls night, let alone a night where you end up at an exotic male dancers strip club.

you didn’t expect tonight to become so entranced by a man you didn’t know, to want to know his secrets, wants, and find out why he chose this job or life.

you for sure didn’t expect to have helped a man undress, leaving on his cat ears, and he undressing you of your short skirt and top.

and lastly, you didn’t even think tonight would end up with you on your back, in said club, in a private room, having said man licking between your folds like it was his last day eating on earth.

“oh—oh my,” you gasped then moaned, your hand shooting to minho’s fluffy hair, your back arching off the bed.

his tongue worked between your folds, nose nudging your clit, fingers used to spread you more open for him.

minho hummed and moaned, quietly showing his appreciation for letting him between your thighs.

for the way he was making you feel, you wanted to thank him. ex definitely forgotten, your mind focused on minho’s tongue, the noises, and the grips his hands now had on your thighs to keep you open as you kept threatening to close the closer you got to coming on his tongue.

“minho, i’m—i’m,”

“i know kitten, let go for me, mhm?” he hummed kissing your clit, before his tongue burrowed deep in your opening, you soon becoming over sensitive.

“fuck!” you gasped out, hand gripped tight on minho’s hair, as you tried to calm your racing heart, your chest up and down.

minho kissed up your stomach, to your naked chest, deciding against overstimulating you. for now.

he licked one free nipple, then the other. he continued his way up to find your neck, his teeth latching the skin for a teasing bite.

minho sat up, knees on either side of you, you reached up to his calvin klein boxers, your fingers teasing the band. it sent chills through minho’s body, his dick becoming harder with the touch.

“don’t tease me, kitten.” he warned through a moan.

you smiled, taking out his dick from the tight black boxers, him hard and tip red, already leaking a bit of precome.

with a lick, you lightly brush led your tongue against his tip, before leaving a kiss. you pulled away, your thumb rubbing circles on the tip.

no hesitation, minho scooted closer as smoothly as he could with his boxers around his thighs, and shoved his dick in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with a gag.

you quickly adjusting yourself to his thickness, and grabbed minho’s ass in your hand as he did the work by rocking and rolling his hips against your mouth.

“that’s it baby, take all of me.” he moaned quietly, you getting wet by each second. you were ready for him to just ruin you between your legs. to leave his everlasting mark.

with spits of curses and moans, it didn’t take much longer until minho stilled and came in your mouth.

pulling out, some leaked from your lips, minho quickly running his tongue against the side of your lips before he kissed you, tongue forcing itself inbetween your lips, in your mouth.

spit mixing, sloppy and wet, minho slipped the boxers off of his thighs, never detaching his lips from yours. he laid over you, his tip teasing your folds and clit.

you bit his bottom lip, tugging it between your teeth. “ruin me. distract me more.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, as minho plunged his dick into you, no waiting for adjustment.

you let out a gasp at the intrusion, but the gasp was of pleasure, and minho hummed, loving the sounds from your lips.

“i’ll make you forget all about past men you thought could please you, kitten.” minho rolled his hips, to aim deeply into you as much as he could. he wanted to be slow first.

the way he rolled his hips, and whenever he did, hit the right spot in you.

“minho,” you squealed, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“mhm that’s it kitten, scream my name. minho—daddy, will make you forget all about those pathetic excuses of past mistakes.”

you could speak, so you just nodded. eyes closed, as tears threatened to spill at how good he was making you feel.

minho suddenly changed his pace from slow to rough. his hips snapping back before forward, your thighs wrapped around him, thigh on thigh skin slapping.

minho pulled out, getting off the bed, before he tugged you along with him.

you brain was gone dumb, as he guided you to the chair, you gripped one of the arms of the chair, minho lifted your right leg to rest on the chair as the other stayed flat on the floor.

minho plunged into you from behind, the new angle, literally causing your own pussy to squeal along with you. you gasped, mouth wide open, as minho rocked his hips from behind you, fucking into you from behind. cheeks clapping, his hand wrapped around your throat, his veins on display, as his index finger forced its way into your mouth.

you sucked on his finger, his pace never faltering, you felt your pussy leaking from all the wetness coming from you.

his other hand snuck around your body, so two of his fingers could start adding pressure to your clit, sending you to the edge.

you didn’t mean to, but you slightly bit his finger, before screaming out his name. “minho!”

your brain and mind really turned to mush, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your vision going dark.

you came hard around his dick, sure leaving a ring of white around the base.

but minho’s thrusts became rougher and sloppier, as he chased his own. he was finally overstimulating you into oblivion and submission.

one of your hand gripped the chair’s arm tightly, the other gripping minho’s forearm, he gripped your chin so your head rested against his chest, your eyes facing him the best to your ability.

your body was in a position you didn’t know was possible, back arched so much, minho loved the sight in front of him.

he loved watching his dick disappear between your folds, your ass hitting perfectly against his hips.

with one last thrust, minho grunted, pulling out to leave his come on your backside. thick and warm, he breathed heavily, as if he ran a marathon. you nearly collapsed on the chair, but minho caught you to help you back to the bed, placing you on the bed.

he grabbed some wet wipes that were placed on a table in the room (next to the condoms you both ignored) and wiped his come off of you, and wiping between your thighs gently before he cleaned up himself.

“how, how am i supposed to walk out there like nothing happened?” you groaned out, struggling to sit up.

minho laughed, “you don’t, you do the walk of shame.”

“there was nothing shameful about that.” you grinned. “other than maybe fucking in a club.” you rolled on your back, laid out.

no time to rethink life choices or reminisce about what just happened.

you had to first put your clothes (and find your underwear), then think of how to exit while steady on your feet.

it wasn’t that you were in pain, but more so still over stimulated losing feeling in your legs.

“there’s an exit out back. you can tell your friends to pick you up there if you want to avoid lookers.”

you nodded. “best idea.”

minho, back dressed, cat ears still on, he walked out to find your friends. you quickly dressed, still not finding your underwear, but did your best to look presentable.

minho walked back to the private room. “they’ll meet you out back with a rideshare. is your place far?”

you shook your head, “we rented a hotel a block away. we live about 2 hours away from here.”

“different city to avoid people you may know?”

you nodded shyly. “yeah.”

minho walked closer to help you stand up, “kind of disappointing you live so far from me kitten. i would have loved to see you again.”

you felt hot, nearly blushing. “um, you don’t need to sweet talk me. you made me feel better and distract me.”

minho’s finger went to your chin, you lift your head up to look into his eyes, “kitten, if you think i do what i just did with you, with anyone, you’re mistaken.”

he kissed your lips tenderly. “why me?” you whispered.

minho shrugged. “honestly don’t know.” he smiled when you initiated a kiss this time. “promise to come see me, again?”

“mhm, maybe.” you teased. minho gripped your hips, and you chuckled, “okay, yes, i will.”

“good. especially since i know you’ll want your blue underwear back.”

[mattluvr]

dad!matt, a concept.

best read in dark mode ⏾

🧸 part ii — the labour. . .

ᡣ𐭩 october 22nd. 6am. exactly one day late, and yours and matt’s daughter is on the way.

you’re nervous, naturally, the mere sight of the soaked bedsheets from where your waters broke moments ago making your chest feel tight; it hadn’t really sunk in that you’d actually have to give birth eventually, the pain slowly creeping its way through your body planting reality in place. even more so when the first contraction grips you.

you move towards matt, seeking comfort in his hold as the pain ripples through you. “fuck, i didn’t think it would hurt this bad.” you mutter through gritted teeth, nails clamping onto matt’s shoulders.

he sighs, rubbing the small of your back in soft circles as his eyebrows draw together. he’s concerned, obviously, but the contraction passes quickly, and he seizes the opportunity to grab your hospital bag and pack you up into the car.

after you did your hair and makeup of course.

ᡣ𐭩 the journey to the hospital is more dangerous than the one from your labour scare a month ago; matt drives faster with only one hand on the wheel, the other clutched in yours as you use it to ground you through each contraction.

they’re more often and closer together, which you know from the endless pregnancy books you read is a telltale sign of your cervix dilating, and you silently start to pray this also means that the rest of pregnancy goes smoothly, complication free.

although, judging by the death grip matt has on your hand, you’re not sure whether you can rule out the prospect of your boyfriend fainting from pure stress.

he pulls into the hospital’s parking lot in a record time of 10 minutes, at least five speeding tickets with his name written all over them, but does not stop to give either of you time to breathe, a whirlwind as he rushes round to your side, hospital bag from the trunk already resting in the crook of his arm.

you laugh, accepting matt’s outstretched hand as you amble towards the entrance to the hospital. “i’ve never seen you move you fast.”

ᡣ𐭩 you and matt check in at reception, with only one contraction marring your words, and the midwives are quick to find you a room and gown.

you change in the bathroom, trying your very best to ignore how the contractions make you double over each time, the green pattern on the hospital gown making your eyes hurt alongside the baby. you settle down in the bed and your midwife introduces herself to you and matt as she hooks you up to a monitor, the name betty suiting her grey curls and soft smile perfectly.

although you like betty less when she tells you that you’re only 3cm dilated. out of 10. matt swears your expression could curdle milk in that moment and he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“you’ve got to remember that each birth is different, so this could take a long time or a short time.” betty reassures you as she props the pillows up behind you. “you can help the labour pass by moving around. we can bring in a yoga ball if you’d like?”

matt answers for you anyways. “absolutely.”

ᡣ𐭩 betty comes in throughout the day to check in on you; she brings you the yoga ball at 8am when you finally dilate one centimetre, helping you lower down onto the contraption, with matt by your side the second a sliver of pain crosses your face.

he rubs those soft circles into your back, and you rest your head on his torso when you bounce up and down. which obviously makes matt laugh, a mindless comment about how this is a familiar sight passing his lips, causing you to glare in turn, claiming that he’s making your contractions worse. that shuts him up.

ᡣ𐭩 at 10am, you’re 6cm dilated, the yoga ball long abandoned in the corner of the room; you now find yourself on all fours on the hospital bed, rocking back and forth slowly. in your head it’s helping with the pain, but the real soother is matt’s constant presence next to you, the simple sound of his breathes calming you.

he’s already made the respective phone calls to his parents and brothers, nick audibly crying from joy over the phone whilst chris whooped and cheered.

“I’M GOING TO HAVE A NIECE BY THE END OF THE DAY!”

“would you calm the fuck down?” matt had hissed. “we’re in a hospital right now.”

“i wish they could see my death glare.” you had piped up, easing your rocking to look over at matt. he offers you an apologetic glance, hushing a see you later to the boys on the phone before hanging up.

you don’t even let matt apologise, babbling out words before your next contraction hits you. “can you call my mom?”

he doesn’t even hesitate. and that’s why you love him.

ᡣ𐭩 the next hour flies by, a centimetre passing every 20 minutes, marking you at 9cm dilated by 11am and crying from how badly it hurts.

the midwives have moved you back to a flat position, your legs now in stirrups to give them easier access for checkups. matt is crouched down by your side, pushing your hair out of your face as you blubber in agony.

“i don’t think i can do this, matt.”

“are you kidding me?” matt squeezes your hand, his expression soft as he moves forward to peck your forehead. “you are the strongest, prettiest, most powerful girl i know. i love you and this baby, and i know you can do this.”

the tears from that point onwards are mixed with joy, comforted by matt’s presence beside you.

ᡣ𐭩 at 11:30am, you’re ready to have your baby girl. biologically, maybe not mentally, your chest tightening as betty tells you with a soft smile that you’re now ready to start the process of pushing. but on the other hand, you’ve gone through at least 20 years worth of pain in the space of 5 hours and want nothing more than to get this baby out of you. so you reluctantly agree.

with matt’s hand clutched in yours, you lean forwards into each push, ungodly screams leaving your mouth in an attempt to cancel out the pain gripping you.

“good work, keep going!” betty spurs you on, her scrubs confined by an apron as she waits in anticipation. “the head’s almost there, a few more pushes!”

you exhale, turning to matt who gives you an encouraging nod despite his pale complexion, the boy about three minutes away from fainting. which almost pushes you on, now desperate to get your daughter out into the world before her dad passes out. you sit up on your elbows once more, vision blurred as you start the final stretch.

the head is out before you know it, and with one more weak push, the rest of your daughter is out into the world, sobs spilling out of your mouth as betty brings her up to nestle by you.

her lungs are full, both your cries mixed together in the thick atmosphere of the hospital room, matt’s own tears hidden as he leans over to observe his baby, shaky fingers reaching out to caress her skin.

he moves back to press another kiss to your forehead. “i told you you could do it.”

ᡣ𐭩 october 22nd, at 11:33am, your daughter arrives into the world, and you and matt’s lives are about to be changed in the best ways possible.

taglist. . .

( @aelinslegend, @mattslolita, @emely9274, @conspiracy-ash, @chrissturniolossidehoe, @mattbrainrot ) is open!

[futuremrscameron]

ready set go!!! (rafe x biker!pogue reader)

content warnings: threats of violence (not between reader and rafe), mentions of grief, classism, blood, use of c word (c*nt), unresolved sexual tension, past relationships, emotional cheating, reader is not a good person, slut shaming, arguing as flirting, horniness is a disease and rafe is terminally ill

a/n: not beta read (just me and my google doc pointing out grammatical errors against the world)

he should’ve known you'd be there; racing was always your first love; there was no way you'd pass up the opportunity even if to. you two were not on speaking terms, but that’s no excuse.

the announcer’s grating voice stops him from spiraling further: “ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a special guest racing with us today!”

“that’s right, a local who made it big on the mainland!"

"everyone put your hands together for lady death!”

the familiar revving sends chills down his spine, but everyone else cheers the crowd as you drift into view. he watches you slowly remove your helmet, brushing back stray hairs. your back-lengthed box braids tied up in a ponytail safe for two strands tucked behind your ears. you’re rocking a white leather jacket with pink stripes. you unzip your jacket, revealing a white bikini top that hugs your breasts. his hand tightens into a fist as he looks down and sees pink cowboy boots with red hearts on the side—it’s the pair he got for your birthday.

“fuck.” rafe whips his head to the right at the sound of his best friend’s awestruck voice. topper remains entranced by the beauty of his friend’s ex, leering, blissfully ignorant of the glare his friend levels at him. 

rafe looks around, finally noticing that you've caught the attention of most of the men there. their salacious stares make him sick; he wants nothing more than to gouge their eyes out and drag you back to his place. before he can spiral further, he’s brought back to reality by a familiar, bright, infectious laugh.

he doesn’t even have to look to know it’s you, but the clawing in his chest urges him to find you and the thing that made you laugh.

it’s a guy. he should’ve known; of course, it’s a guy. you’re twirling your hair and smiling at him the way you used to smile at him. he tells himself that the guy’s probably not even that funny, and you’re just giving him a pity laugh ‘cause he’s a total fucking loser or a pervert. there’s no way you actually like him; you would never entertain a guy like him, not even to make him jealous. 

“hey!” his voice breaks you out of your pre-race zone. 

"fucking hell," you mumble under your breath as he shoves his way through the crowd of spectators, not paying their shouts of anger and annoyance any mind. he looks like a man on a mission. it’s kind of hot. you disembark from your bike and begin your stretches, hoping to any god that is listening that you're mistaken and that his attention is pointed elsewhere. 

he stops in front of you, gripping the straps of his vest so hard he can feel them through his gloves. he looks down at you with furrowed eyebrows and his mouth downturned in a frown. "we need to talk."

you continue stretching your leg before switching to the other one. “if it's not about strategy, no, we don’t.”

he scoffs, "strategy? you mean slutting yourself out?” his cold tone would hurt if not for the heat in his gaze as he looks you up and down, letting you know how he really feels.

you look at the racers and spectators leering and shrug. "i'd say it's working, wouldn't you?” you smirk as you rise from your stretch.

the vein in his neck looks just about ready to pop; he swallows down a retort. “i’m trying to look out for you. you wanna be taken seriously; don’t dress like a flag girl.”

you chuckle at his heated state, veins bulging from his neck and everything. you don’t try to hide your smirk and raise an eyebrow at his boldness. “wow, you talk to sofia like that?”

he glares at the mention of his new girlfriend; his face burns with frustration and embarrassment. “don’t.”

“line up racers!” the announcer's voice pops the former lovers out of their bubble. topper runs up next to rafe obviously not reading the tension between the two. “hey!”

“hey top.” you mimic his surfer bro voice and smirk, “how’s ruthie?” 

he frowns and opens his mouth to answer, but your focus is already turned back on rafe. “see you at the finish line, cameron.” you wink before steering past him and taking your spot near the back on the sand.

topper is taken aback by your not so subtle hostility. he turns to rafe; a questioning look adorning his face. “what was that about?”

rafe watches her walk over to jj, ignoring his friend’s question to avoid lashing out at him. “do me a favor, man, shut the fuck up.”

you walk over to jj, your interaction with rafe still fresh on your mind. the hold he has on you seems to have never left. your met with a knowing look from jj, you groan. “what?”

he scoffs,“what? what was that? you’re fraternizing with the enemy now?” jj’s mischievous smirk betrays the cold glint in his eye; he’s upset about something, and your interaction with rafe made it worse.

you don’t have time for his judgment; you roll your eyes as you bend down to inspect his bike. “spell ‘fraternizing’ jj.” he flicks you off, and you return the gesture.

he chuckles and scratches the back of his head, a telltale sign that something else is weighing on his consciousness. you frown as you inspect the chain on his bike; it’s rusty and barely moves when you tug it. “god, you and last minute shit. why didn’t you bring this to me sooner? i would’ve fixed this up, you know? but now? jj, you know you can’t fucking race on this.”

jj throws his head back and groans dramatically, "oh, come on, i’ve raced on worse.”

“yeah, and how did all those times go?” you tighten one final screw on his bike before standing up and meeting his eye, hands on your hips, head tilted, waiting for his answer. he opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out; he frowns.

you chuckle, "exactly." you turn and make your way back to your bike. he grabs his bike’s handles and follows closely behind. “i didn't say shit!”

you shake your head, “‘cause you know i’m right!”

“are not!”

you stop suddenly and turn around to face him, one eyebrow arched. “jj, you got a tricycle because you wanted to be like me.”

he blushes, embarrassed at the memory, and mutters something under his breath about liking tricycles before you came along. he nods and looks around the beach; he’s avoiding eye contact. “yeah, but this time is different.”

something’s up. you cross your arms, “okay, jj, what’s up?” a serious expression, “is it luke? did he bet on you?”

he frowns at the word ‘bet’ but as quick as it’s there, it’s gone, replaced by a smirk. “no! god no, it's nothing really. i don’t know why you would think something’s up; nothing’s wrong; just wanna win, you know." he chuckles, but there’s no heart in it. “shove it in those kooks' faces.” 

he’s trying to change the subject; you tilt your head in disappointment. "jj."

he pats your shoulder, “hey, i’m fine. really.” he gives you a smile, but it lacks it’s usual warmth. you want to stay and get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with him.

“racers, get in position!” 

of course.

jj nods to himself; he’s noticeably anxious but swallows it down with another smile. “we’ll talk later, okay?” he’s skipping away before you can reply.

“jj-”

“i’ll see you at the finish line!” and with that, he’s on his bike, getting into position. 

you sigh defeatedly but make your way back to your bike. you’ve already mapped out your strategy, having raced long enough to predict how this race will go. the positioning is always as follows: the cocky bastards, rookies, and amateurs always position themselves in the front, which leads to stumbling, falling, and knocking into each other as soon as they hear the word 'go,’ which gives you a chance to speed past them. those in the back are either like you, professionals, or knowledgeable enough about racing to know not to start at the front or lack confidence.

“bikers, start your engines!” you rev your engine, staring ahead at the wide open space in front of you.

“on your mark!” in your mind, a highlighted track that lays out every twist, turn, speed bump, and shortcut appears on the sand.

“get set!” you lower your helmet’s visor and drown out the sound of the cries and focus on the head of your bike.

“goooooooo!”

you zoom past ruthie and some other kook girl you recognize from rafe’s parties. you take sharp turns and land jump over hills and trees like it’s nothing; you ease past topper and jj, glancing back at the duo engaged in some conversation before focusing on your real opponent.

rafe is somehow still in the lead; you know you won’t beat him this way, so you take a shortcut to get ahead of him. 

“cheating now, huh?” you can hear the smile in his voice without looking at him.

“nothing in the rules says we can’t take shortcuts as long as they’re on the track rafey.” you wink at him as you speed up. the finish line is within view as you race across the sandy beach. everything seems to come to a halt when a shadow appears above you. you look up; it’s jj.

“and the runt of the litter, jj maybank takes the lead with that amazing leap of faith!” the announcers, now back in hearing range, seem just as stunned as the racers and crowd at jj’s bold feat.

“i can’t believe my eyes, can you?”

“no!”

you can’t help but laugh at his death-defying stunt. “woohoo! let’s go jj!" you speed up, feeling a burst of energy at his literal leap of faith.

“fuck that.” that voice sends chills down your spine. you turn to find rafe behind you, but you don’t even have to turn completely. he’s next to you. he speeds past you and bumps jj’s hind wheels.

he’s gonna get them both killed him if he keeps this up. “hey!” 

“ladies and gentlemen, it looks like this just got personal.”

jj kicks out at rafe, causing the older blonde to tilt every so often. your breath catches in your throat every time his bike leans over. “jj!”

“that’s right, jj and rafe are neck and neck.”

rafe and jj bump into each other like they’re in go-karts.

“pogue vs. kook.”

in your head, you curse the announcers for feeding into this, “stop it, rafe!”

all it takes is one more bump for the duo to go flying in the air, and you feel your heart drop.

“jj!” you slam on the breaks and jump off your bike when it comes to a complete halt. you run over to jj, not caring as the other racers speed past you for the finish line. you rip off your helmet and throw it aside before turning to him and frantically checking him for injuries. “hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

jj angrily brushes you off, “i’m fine.” he’s not fine; he winces when he rolls his shoulder and cracks his neck. you're taken aback and hurt, but you’ve known him long enough to know that it’s nothing personal. he doesn’t want to lash out at you, so he’s trying his best to keep his distance.

he gives you a once-over, "you okay?” his mouth is downturned in a frown; it takes you back to the days when he’d knock on your door asking to stay the night because luke was passed out on the couch and moved the second key.

you give him a soft, reassuring smile and rub his arm, “i’m okay.” 

he opens his mouth to say something else; he wants to tell you the truth, you know it. but nothing comes out; instead, he slowly backs away before turning around completely. you watch as he ignores his friends’ concerning gazes and desperate questions and stops at the far end of the beach, kicking at sand and throwing his helmet down. yeah, something’s definitely up.

“hey!”

great. rafe shrugs off sofia’s arm, helping him up, and wobbles over to you. you feel bad for her truly, but you can’t deny that it feels good that he seems to only have eyes for you, even when next to his girlfriend. you finally see him up close, and goddamn, he looks like shit. he has a scartch on his cheek, a noticable limp, and rolls his shoulder every other step. he stops in front of you and looks you up and down. “you okay?”

the audacity of this man, “are you trying to ask if i’m injured, you piece of shit?”

he throws his hand up in surrender and offense, “the fuck did i do?”

you’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad. how could he be so selfish? so reckless? so stupid? “are you fucking kidding me? the fuck did you do?” you shove him, “you could’ve killed each other; do you even fucking care!? i don’t care how much you hate each other; you don’t fucking do that!” your voice cracks from the strain yelling has put on you; tears form in your eyes from anger and the fear of almost losing them both.

he reaches down and wipes your tear. you push his hand away. “i’m sorry.”

“are you?”

“i-”

“aww, rafe, your puppy pogue came back for seconds.” the memorable grating voice comes from one kook only, topper’s new girlfriend, ruthie; she mockingly pouts, not even trying to conceal her smirk. she looks proud to have topper’s arm around her waist, like she’s not playing second fiddle to his ex.

your anger is now fully redirected at her. you take some steps towards her. “the fuck did you just call me!?”

she chuckless. “you heard me, pogue.”

the way she spits out the word ‘pogue’ does not sit right in your spirit. you take a step towards her, but rafe holds you back. 

you look up and meet his eyes; you hate the way he looks at you. he shakes his head, “don’t let her get to you.”

you scoff, “oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“it is; trust me, i know, but she is not worth your time.”

you frown at his newfound maturity, not knowing if it’s genuine or not or if it’s just to keep you out of trouble. “fine.”

he looks back at the couple with a cold stare that you’ve thankfully never been on the receiving end of. “yo top, get your bitch under control.”

she removes herself from topper’s side and steps up to you two. “excuse me?” topper tries to pull her back, but she shrugs him off. "you know, rafe, you used to be cool before you started slumming it.”

you stomp over to her and get in her face. the height difference has her literally looking down at you, which makes your blood boil; the shit eating smirk doesn’t help. “up yours, cunt! you’re just a sarah reject.” topper chokes on his water and rafe smirks, barely able to stifle a laugh.

her smirk is gone now, replaced by a nasty glare, and her face is beat red with embarrassment and rage. “excuse me!? what the fuck did you just say!?”

“you heard me.” you smirk at her reaction. she pushes you; you punch her square in the jaw, causing a ripple of commotion. you lunge at her, but rafe holds you back. you spit at her before she’s out of reach, but it falls short. the act still enrages her. 

rafe mean mugs ruthie as he drags the smaller girl away from the couple.  you kick and scream as rafe drags you away, gaining the attention of pogues and kooks alike. jj shouts at him and runs toward them when you push rafe away. “get the fuck off of me!”

rafe finally lets you go, and you take a few steps away before turning and getting in his face. “what the hell is your problem!?”

his eyes widen, unable to comprehend your lack of thanks. “my problem!? i just stopped you from spending the rest of your twentys in an orange jumpsuit!”

you shove him, “i don’t need your help!” your anger takes him by surprise. you roughly wipe the blood from your nose on your jacket. “i’m not your problem anymore, rafe.”

jj catches up to them and puts himself between you two before checking your for injuries. he puffs his chest out and stares down rafe. “you didn’t hear her telling you to fuck off? all that coke’s fucked with your hearing?”

you touch his back, trying to reassure him that all is well. “i’m fine, jj. i can handle this.”

jj looks back at you; you nod; he nods and slowly retreats.

“yeah, fuck off." you curse rafe and his annoying need to get the last word in as jj stomps back over.

“hey!” you put your arms out, stopping their chests from touching. “jj!” he looks at you, tears building from anger and sorrow over losing the race. “just go. it’s okay, i’m fine.”

rafe notes your voice softening and frowns. jj gives him one last glare and once over, warning the kook king not to mess with you. you turn back to him once jj is out of earshot, “what the fuck is wrong with you? do you get off on pissing me off or something?”

“that’s rich coming from you. all that talk about being there for me in my time of need, and where were you?”

“i was giving you space like you wanted!” 

“you abandoned me!” he roars, making you recoil. “you abandoned me when i needed you the most. you knew what that would do to me. you knew!"  

you can hear the heartbreak in his voice; it shines through the way his finger shakes when he points at you. or the tears falling freely and his face red from the fury he must have been pushing down. “i just lost my dad, and i needed you, and you weren’t there. too busy doing fuck knows what with goldilocks and his friends.” 

“he just came back from south america, where he was hunted down by trained killers, and watched someone die—he needed me!” 

“i needed you!”

“i’m sorry, okay! how many times do i have to say it until you believe me?”

“i don’t believe you, rafe!” you sigh and rub the bridge of your nose. you look at rafe, and he finally sees the exhaustion in every movement. “i'm done playing games.”

“i’m not playing games; i love you. i know i was wrong and i was sad and angry, and i know i took it out on you, but i’m-” 

“sorry?” 

he frowns.

you shake your head in defeat, “i know.”

you get on your bike and put your helmet on. you peel off, leaving him in the dust watching your fading figure.

______________________________________________________________

as always let me know your thoughts, criticism is always welcome (just keep it classy) <3

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Forty-One: Rescue Mission

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Masterlist

Allerick didn’t come back to the cell.

The worst part was neither did Seungmin. Both you and Hyunjin stayed curled in each other’s arms for what felt like hours. Neither one of you wanted to move from your position against the cell wall.

When you had woken up, Hyunjin was fast asleep behind you, his head resting on your shoulder. Every shallow exhale he let out fanned over your shoulder gently. 

You turn your head slightly, your nose nuzzling into his temple. His eyebrows twitch but he stays asleep.

All of your injuries from the dagger have closed thanks to the mage surrounding you. His magic is weak right now, but it still managed to close the wounds to a bearable point. The bloodstains on your tunic have now dried.

The only thing that’s left from earlier is a constant dull throb, making the injuries feel as though they’re two days old instead of a few hours. 

Your body feels achy and weak, more so than it has these past few days. Mortal’s Touch still must be flowing through your bloodstream and making you frail. Every single one of your joints ache. There are pains in places you didn’t think were possible to hurt.

And who knows when it will end?

You’ve been in this cell for weeks– months now. 

And all you’ve had to do while you’ve been in here is think. Well, between all the torture, that is. 

Memories were your only escape from the harsh reality that you found yourself in. Little flashes of running through the forest of Erbus while your mother calls you in for dinner soothed you. 

If you thought hard enough, sometimes you thought you could picture her face again. When you really allowed yourself to focus, you could recall the curve of her nose, shaped just like yours, the small bridge of freckles that would appear in the summertime, the prominent shape of her cupid’s bow.

Once a month, your mother would crush up rose and lavender petals and make them into an oil that she would apply to her skin. The only times you were ever close enough to smell it were when she would hold you close.

Like that time you were six years old and fell from the tree you were climbing. You had slipped on the branches and came tumbling down to the dirt. The only injury you ended up sustaining was a small scrape to your elbow.

But you cried so hard, you may as well have broken your arm. After bandaging you up, you were still letting out little sniffles and cries. 

Your mother wrapped her arms around you and held you close to her chest. 

A mother’s hug heals everything, doesn’t it?

There’s a different type of warmth that comes from the arms that carried you since the day you were born. No matter what the circumstances were, it didn’t matter what was wrong or what hurt, mind, body, or soul, if your mother wrapped her arms around you, you were better.

You would breathe in her rose and lavender scent and the tears would stop. She would coo into your hair and kiss your forehead before sending you on your way once more.

In no time at all, you would be back to climbing trees and jumping over fallen logs in the woods.

What you wouldn’t give for one of your mother’s hugs right now.

Even though you were so young when she was taken from you, it doesn’t take away the fact that she’s the first person you crave when you’re scared or when you’re hurting. Calling out for your mother is an instinct so ingrained in everyone it should be studied.

That day on the battlefield, when all of the soldiers were closing in around you on top of that wall, you called out for your mother.

And if you had the strength, you would do so right now. 

You want your mother. You want to hear her voice, you want her to hold you close and listen to her heart beat.

A hollow, empty feeling sits so heavily in your chest. It’s a different pain than the type you’ve been on the receiving end for the last few weeks. It’s not even a pain that was inflicted while you’ve been in this cell.

Nonetheless, Erbus caused it. These monsters are the ones that took your mother and father away. They’re the ones that took away the one pair of arms you need to be held in the most. 

Erbus has been torturing you long before you were thrown within this cell. Long before this war was declared, long before you were made into a court member of Miroh, long before you even became a mercenary. They have been twisting the knife in your heart since you were only nine.

Hyunjin’s arms twitch around your body, shaking you from your runaway thoughts.

Your head turns a bit and you look at him as his eyes twitch and blink open slowly.

“Does it hurt?” he asks immediately. His voice is rough and slurred as he drags himself from sleep.

“Nay,” you whisper back. “Only the usual pains.”

“Then why do you cry?” 

You freeze.

Slowly, your hand reaches up and you touch your cheek. Sure enough, there are tears coming down your cheeks.

“I…” you start but your voice trails off.

“Troubled mind?” Hyunjin murmurs. He lifts his chin from your shoulder and sits back against the wall once more.

Your eyes stare forward, focusing on just one of the four hundred and thirteen stones in the floor. 

“Aye,” you respond. “I guess you could say that.”

Hyunjin waits for a moment. His hands move from wrapped around your body to trail up the sides of your arms, tracing small circles and patterns on the bruised and battered skin.

“Coin for your thoughts.” 

A weak smile pulls at your lips at the little joke. Maybe if you had more energy, you would’ve laughed. 

“I am just thinking about my mother,” you say simply. Behind you, Hyunjin lets out an exhale.

“Taken by Erbus?”

“Aye.”

You had already told Jisung the story that one night in front of the campfire. The night that he crawled inside your bedroll and held you while you both cried together.

“Tell me about her.”

It’s such a simple request, but it squeezes at your heart nonetheless. Countless fragments of memories go through your mind, once more, you think you can smell her scented oil.

“She was tall.” It’s the first thing that comes to your mind. “Tall for a human woman, at least. One time I heard my father say it was one of the reasons he fell for her, she had the height of an elf, but the sharp tongue of a human.”

Hyunjin lets out a weak laugh behind you. “Much like you then.”

You hum in agreement. “Aye. I definitely take after her in many ways. But she always told me I looked more like my father.” There’s a beat. “They both loved me so much, Hyunjin. I cannot even begin to even create a complaint about my parents. They loved me more than the moon loves the night sky.

“Our cottage was this tiny house with one room. There were no bedrooms or a kitchen or library. It had four walls that held two beds, a small cooking spit, a table with three chairs, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf. But I never wanted it to be any different.”

His fingers continue to trace up and down your arms as you stare off into space, reminiscing about that little cabin in the woods.

“Every night, they would tuck me into bed and both of them would kiss my cheeks, my father first, then my mother. And they would tell me how much they loved me. I cannot lie, I had a very fortunate childhood.”

Countless people you have crossed paths with have had the opposite experience as your own. Every time someone would tell you about a negative relationship with their parents, your heart would ache for them.

The smile on your face turns wistful. “One morning, my mother woke me up early, before the sun had even risen or poked over the horizon. I can only remember she held up a finger to her lips, smiling and telling me that we had to be quiet, that we were going to surprise my father since it was his birthday.

“We went down to the town and we were there just in time as the bakery opened. The two of us were the first in line and we bought him the most beautifully frosted cake that I had ever seen, it had to be bigger than my face.”

Both you and your mother also bought a sweet bread that the two of you shared on your way back to the cabin. The two of you giggled and passed the bread back and forth, making sure it was finished before you got home.

Your mother had said it was a secret that only the two of you could know about, and your younger self took that to heart.

“When we got back to the cabin, my father was still asleep. He snored like a bear and we could hear him before we even got inside. We woke him up holding the cake and yelling birthday wishes at the top of our lungs. He sat up and hugged us both with the biggest smile on his face. By the Six, I can still see the crows' feet crinkling next to his eyes.”

The happy memory sits inside your chest, warming up your damaged and worn soul. It flickers inside you like a dying campfire.

Thinking about your parents always kindles the flames within your soul, even now, when you’re at the lowest you’ve ever been. Just remembering the happiness they raised you with alights something inside you.

Hyunjin remains quiet behind you, listening to you talk. Not once do his little caresses cease on your skin. 

“We started the day with cake and then spent the remainder of his birthday down at the lake, playing in the water and laughing as a family.  Even as the sun went down behind the clouds, we were smiling and laughing. It was… it was perfect. Every single day was perfect.”

Suddenly, your throat feels too tight. 

As if sensing the shift in your demeanor, Hyunjins hands gently wind around your stomach once more, being very careful of the wounds throbbing across your stomach. With what remaining strength he has left, he squeezes and holds you close.

“I often think about what my life would have been like if they were not taken from me,” your voice utters. The tears have not stopped flowing down your cheeks. It’s a wonder your eyes aren’t too dry to even shed them.

“Thinking about what could have been can poison your mind,” Hyunjin murmurs. His own tone sounds strained.

“Perhaps,” you reply. “But at the same time, it relaxes me. I allow myself to conjure up a vision of this second life… One where my parents raised me and we were permitted to live together as a family…”

He hesitates for a beat. “What do you imagine?”

A soft hum comes from your chest. “I like to imagine that I grew up to be an alchemist.”

When he laughs, it comes out gently, like a puff of air. “Truly?”

“Aye,” you answer with your own weak laugh. Your head tilts to the side. “I would have studied hard and learned the craft and opened a shop in the town… I would have created tonics that would cure ailments, supply aid, perhaps even extend lives or do wondrous things like breathe underwater.”

Your body begins to relax further into him as you tell him your little fantasy.

“I would live in the room above my shop and it would only be a short walk to the cottage where I would visit my parents at least once a week for dinner. Maybe, I would bring them a new tonic or two for them to try for me…

“Eventually, some dashing young man would walk into my shop one day, looking for a healing potion and I would notice that he seemed injured so I would take him into the back where I keep all my ingredients and supplies and make him sit still while I heal him up. After a moment, I would look into his eyes… he would look into mine… and I would fall in love.”

His arms tighten around you. “Sounds like folly to me,” Hyunjin grumbles into your shoulder.

“You sound jealous.”

“I am not.”

“You are jealous of a man who does not exist.”

“Nay. I am not.”

“He does not exist, nor does my shop, nor do my alchemy skills.”

Hyunjin scoffs and shifts behind you. The wistful smile stays on your face and your hands reach up and rest on top of his.

“Rest assured, nothing about this fantasy life is real, no matter how deeply I wish it to be.”

There’s a long moment of silence in the cell. Condensation drips from the ceiling into a standing puddle and you can hear Erban soldiers communicating through the walls. The fires lit in the sconces flicker and lick up the sides.

Behind you, Hyunjin’s chest rises and falls in a shallow, uneasy rhythm. 

Taking a deep, painful breath, you turn slightly in his arms to look at the side of his face. As soon as you move, he looks right back at you. The bags under his eyes look like deep bruises.

“Though, I am certain that the life I live now is a fantasy to some others,” you murmur, staring deeply into his now dull eyes. “Perhaps the alchemist escapes their mundane life by imagining she is the mercenary for the Jarl’s court; maybe she imagines that her other court members invade her life and make themselves the most important people in her life.”

Hyunjin stares back at you. 

“Perhaps she imagines grand battles and wars, maybe she dreams of learning how to wield a sword so she can protect the ones she loves, even at her own peril.”

And for a moment, even if it is brief and fleeting, you see a tiny spark in those gorgeous eyes. It leaves as soon as it comes, but you know it was there.

“Does the mercenary also have a happy ending in the alchemist’s fantasy?” Hyunjin whispers.

You hum, rolling your eyes a bit. “Now we are imagining a fantasy’s fantasy? Should we go one step further and imagine that mercenary pictures being an alchemist?”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes and look off to the side. “Now you are just being boring.”

“We do not even know if this mercenary will have a happy ending.”

“She will,” Hyunjin replies immediately. His voice is stronger than it has been in weeks. The strength is only there for that one moment, same as the spark in his eyes. He looks back at you. “She will.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, a world shattering boom rattles the entire fort. Both you and Hyunjin practically jump out of your skin at the noise. The very stones of the walls shake from what sounds like an unbelievable impact.

Soldiers begin screaming outside the door of the jail.

Hyunjin’s arms tighten around you in a protective manner, his entire body tensing up.

Inside your chest, you feel your heart kickstart. Is this Miroh? Is Miroh attacking? Is it finally happening?

There’s only about thirty seconds of silence before two more explosions hit the fort, these ones sounding and feeling like they’re at different points in the fort.

Your eyes flitter around wildly, trying to get your bearings. Every single one of your muscles begins to scream when you try to move.

All of the instincts within you are telling you to move; but even if you managed to crawl across the floor to the cell door, you’re still locked in here.

Another explosion hits the fort and dust falls from the ceiling over you and Hyunjin. 

The screaming gets louder and louder.

“Do you think–”

You’re cut off by the sound of the door to the prison bursting open and slamming into the stone wall. At the same time of the collision, a booming, feral, animalistically angry voice screams down the hall.

“You ruin everything, you rotten fucking monster!” Allericks’ voice is so loud it echos in your ears and rattles your very bones. “There will be no rescue mission for Miroh!”

His boots are thundering down the hall.

As Hyunjin holds you close, small noises of fear claw their way up your throat and you shrink back into him inch by inch. Allerick’s voice has such an instant effect on your brain. At the very sound of him, you can feel every single one of your wounds throbbing.

Now that the door to the prison is open, the yelling and screaming is louder. All of the soldiers are bellowing orders to one another, manning different stations and trying to muster enough strength to defend themselves.

“You disgusting, hideous, vile creatures! You and all of the blackened beings of Miroh!”

As soon as Allerick’s body is in front of the cell, he’s thrusting the key into the lock and wrenching open the door. It swings and hits into the bars with a clang that goes right through you. He sneers when he sees you and Hyunjin huddled in with one another. 

“Oh, how wonderful that you were able to feel one final tender touch before I rip you limb from limb!” he growls, striding towards you at such a frightening pace, you would think he was running.

Hyunjin tries to turn your bodies to shield you but Allerick is much faster and stronger than both of you combined at the moment. He reaches down and grabs you by the hair, prying you out of Hyunjin’s arms and launching you across the cell with a roar.

The stone scrapes up your arms and legs as you collide with the floor.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin yells.

“Even when I have you down in my prison, chained, tethered, tortured, and two steps from The Void, you still find ways to stab me in the back and make my life difficult!”

He stalks closer to you.

Weakly, you push yourself off the floor, both of your arms shaking. Your elbows almost immediately buckle under your body weight and you whimper quietly as you make contact with the floor.

“I should have known better than to think you could be of any use to me!” Allerick grabs a fistful of your hair just to use his other hand and delivers a punch directly to your cheek. The pain bursts behind your eyes immediately. 

He pulls back and punches you once more, this time releasing your hair as the punch lands, just so your head can crack down onto the stone floor.

“Stop!” Hyunjin screams. 

“You will get your turn, dagger ear! Shut your fucking mouth!” Allerick screams at him and then turns his attention back to you.

Explosion after explosion hits the outside of the fort. All of the dust and debris rains down from the ceiling. The very ground shakes underneath you.

Groaning in pain, you’re about to turn over onto your back when a swift kick is ushered right to your side. Instead, your body ragdolls with the momentum of the kick and you grunt and cough at the same time. Little droplets of blood spurt from your mouth. 

“You good for nothing rat!” Allerick screams. “I should have killed you on day one. I should have had the guards tear your limbs off and fed them to you while you cried and begged for death!”

Another kick to your ribs and you’re sure you hear one snap. The sharp pain shoots right through you, the pain chokes any noise you could make and all you’re able to produce is a wheeze. 

A hand grabs your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. His body comes down over yours, straddling your hips and grabbing the front of your tunic.

There’s no strength left in your body. You’re so completely broken and useless. All you can do is open your eyes and look up at him from. 

He looks nothing like the man you know. The man above you right now is a wild animal; his teeth are bared and veins are popping in his forehead. You wouldn’t be surprised if foam started coming from his gums and dripping down his chin. 

It feels like you’re looking into the eyes of the Void. Cold, harrowing fear trickles down your spine. You want to scream, you want to cry, but you’re completely frozen.

You’ve seen more compassion when staring into the eyes of a wolf.

Never before have you seen a human being gaze upon another with a look like this.

“I should have killed you yesterday. I should have drenched that dagger in Void Toxin. I should have watched it take a hold of your very soul. Oh, little mouse, how I crave to watch the life leave your eyes.”

His hand moves from gripping your tunic to wrapping around your throat completely, his fingers dig into your neck, cutting off your oxygen immediately. 

Your mouth opens and closes, gaping like a fish out of water. One of your hands moves up to claw at Allerick’s, your nails digging into his skin to no avail.

“When those pests come down here, there will be nothing left of you, nothing but a bloody, useless corpse. You will just be another tally added to the toll while we cleanse this world of your filthy kind.”

All of your limbs grow cold, your muscles begin to spasm from the lack of oxygen. 

The veins in your neck feel as though they’re about to explode from the pressure. Your eyes feel like they’re about to bulge out of your head. 

A sick smile spreads across Allerick’s face as he watches you struggle, it stretches from ear to ear, showing off his once perfect, now yellowing, teeth. The bags under his eyes make them look psychotic.

He is not the man that raised you.

He’s an animal.

Hyunjin screams behind you, but it sounds so far away. You can’t hear the explosions anymore, you can only feel the ground beneath you vibrating with each impact. 

Is this really how it ends for you? Minutes from salvation?

Huh.

Tears well up in your bloodshot eyes, the edges of your vision fading. 

Will it be Uddos or Ytris you see when your eyes open once more? Who will be welcoming you to their part of the afterlife?

The Void cannot be any worse than this damned cell.

Slowly, your eyes begin to close. So, this is it. This is it for you.

Death might not be so bad.

Perhaps you’ll finally be able to see your mother and father again. There’s no way their souls are not in Utrium. They were both too kind and too full of love to end up anywhere near The Void.

Maybe you’ll finally get to smell that rose and lavender oil as your mother holds you in her arms. You can practically smell it now. It wraps around your nose and sends a wave of peace through your body. 

That warmth– that sweet, sweet warmth of your mother’s embrace calls to you. The cozy, soft comfort of your head against her chest feels as though it’s right in your grasp.

Will there be sweet breads in Utrium? Oh, they’ll be the best you ever tasted, you’re sure of it. 

A calm smile pulls at your blue lips. 

Every single day will be just like your father’s birthday. You’ll be able to eat cake for breakfast and spend every single afternoon down by the lake, splashing water and swimming until the sun goes down–

“Not yet,” a familiar maternal voice coos in your head. “Not yet, my love.”

Another voice roars clear as day, shattering your peace and bringing you back to the harsh reality you’re currently in. 

There’s a flurry of movement above you as a figure crashes into Allerick and tackles him to the ground and off of your body. You’re only able to make out the silver sheen of armor as the figure passes over you. 

Desperately, you take in a gasp of air. Coughs wrack through your aching body as you try to breathe in any oxygen possible. Each breath is choppy and painful, but you suck them in nonetheless.

Your head drops to the side and you barely make out what you see in front of you. Your savior, completely crouched over Allerick, as he delivers punch after punch to his face. Allerick desperately tries to fight back but each hit is too powerful.

It’s taking too long for your vision to fully unblur. 

Who is that? 

That armor… you’ve seen that armor before… but only once.

The fires from the sconces glint off the polished steel brilliantly. Every single inch of the armor has been crafted exquisitely. Not a single piece is fitted incorrectly. 

Miroh’s standard hangs off his sword belt on his hips.

The leather straps wound around the pieces are oiled and expensive. The now bloody gauntlets hug his forearms and display Miroh’s crest proudly.

It’s nothing short of regal.

It truly is a set of armor suited for a Jarl.

Your heart clenches in your chest and more tears spring from your eyes when you realize what you’re seeing. 

Bang Chan, the Jarl of Miroh, is here to save you.

There’s some more screaming and boots running down the hall. Your eyes flick up to Hyunjin, who looks like he collapsed while crawling in your direction on his hands and knees. Tears are coming down his face as he sobs in what looks like unbridled relief. 

He looks over and meets your eyes, and that relief becomes even brighter when he sees you’re alive. 

“Y/N!” he cries your name. “Y/N!”

Over and over again, he sobs your name like it’s the only thing he knows. It’s the only word that tumbles from his cracked and dehydrated lips. 

Figures sprint into the jail cell, one of them immediately runs to Hyunjin’s side.

“Here! In here! They are in here! In here!” 

“Down here!”

Emotions hit you so heavily as familiar voices hit your ears. Voices that you’ve come to love and cherish. Voices that you would remember when it was so dark and bleak that you needed to try and gather some joy in your soul.

A warm hand grabs at your shoulder, rolling you onto your back. Out of pure instinct, you scream in panic and fear. Your voice comes out in a mere hissed noise, your vocal cords damaged from Allerick’s grip. 

The hand recoils quickly, but comes right back to cup your cheek and gently guide your eyes to meet theirs.

More and more tears blur your vision, but you would recognize Lee Minho’s face anywhere. 

His eyes are wide in horror as he takes in your near death appearance. “By The Six,” he says in a ghastly tone.

All you have energy to do is blink and breathe. 

“Are they alive?!” Jeongin’s voice screams down the hall. “Minho, are they alive?!”

Minho can’t tear his eyes off your face, staring down at you in horror. “Aye! Alive! They li– They live!” he answers thickly. Every muscle in his face twitches and pulls into a different emotion every second.

You’re watching as he rides a carousel of human emotions: anger, disgust, horror, fear, sadness, it all crosses his face as he looks down at you. His hand begins to tremble against your cheek. 

“Y/N,” he murmurs hoarsely, his eyebrows pinch together as if he’s the one in pain. “Oh, oh, you poor thing.” He sounds near tears himself.

Maybe it’s because his face is the first one you’re seeing during your rescue, but you swear you’ve never seen anything so beautiful in your life. One of the Six’s angels surely has come down to save you. 

“Chan!” Jeongin screams once he’s in the cell. “Chan! Enough! Enough!”

Behind Minho, you watch him run over in Chan’s direction, most likely to yank him off of Allerick’s body. What state he’s in now, you don’t know. But you can’t find it within your heart to care if he is alive or dead. 

“How is Hyunjin?” Minho calls over without taking his eyes off of you.

“Alive!” Changbin answers. “Y/N?!”

“Alive!” Minho answers.

“They are both alive?!” Seungmin screams down the hall. 

“Both are alive!” Minho yells back just for the rogue to come join the party.

You don’t know how many more times they’re going to scream that you’re alive, but you don’t care. You wish you could scream it too.

You’re alive. You’re alive!

Chan lets out a loud roar of frustration as Jeongin drags him away from Allerick. “I want him bound and taken back with us. I want him thrown into solitary confinement! Whatever dark hole Miroh has under the Keep, I want him kept there! His face will never know sunlight again!” 

Seungmin rushes past your body over to where Chan and Jeongin are, following his Jarl’s order to bind Allerick. 

Chan continues to scream out in ire. “The Six themselves will have to come release you from Miroh’s prisons, you filthy, miserable excuse for life!”

Minho moves slowly, bending down and cradling your head with one hand. His touch is so gentle, treating you like you’re made of the most delicate glass ever created. 

“We have you, Y/N, we have you. You are safe,” he coos down at you. You’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself that you’re safe now. He keeps repeating it, shuffling you around to cradle you close to his chest. “I got you, Y/N, I have you.”

“Minho,” you whisper hoarsely. The way he reacts, you would think you punched him in the chest. His shoulders hunch forward and he grips you tighter, bringing your head closer to him. Both of Minho’s arms wrap around you and he pulls you up into his lap.

Your head tucks into his chest, a wave of warmth and peace floods through your body once you’re safely nestled in his embrace. 

His clean and musky scent wraps around your senses. It’s been so long since you’ve smelled anything but death, decay, vomit, and blood. 

Behind you, Chan barks more orders, nothing but pure wrath and malice in his voice. 

Weakly, your hand comes up and you grab at Minho’s arm, your bony fingers curling around his arm. His body begins to tremble.

Slowly, your eyes begin to slide shut. That sense of peace and safety lulling your brain to finally shut down. 

“Not yet, Y/N,” Minho whispers, shaking you very gently. He jostles you the same way you would try and get a dew drop to fall from a leaf. 

Another body comes up behind you.

“Water,” Jeongin croaks. “Here, Y/N, drink, please. Please.” 

Minho turns your head for you with one hand cradling the back of your skull. A waterskin is immediately placed upon your lips and clean water comes rushing out into your parted lips. 

You’ve never drank anything so greedily in your life. It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. The nectar of the Gods was put into this waterskin, wasn’t it? Your neck cranes to get even more of the water.

“Easy,” Minho says in a gentle tone. 

Jeongin’s hand comes up and rests on your forehead, taking away the waterskin after another moment. His fingers shakily brush away the hair sticking to your forehead. 

Changbin and Seungmin sound as if they’re talking to Hyunjin, giving him water just like Jeongin had done for you. 

Several Miroh soldiers come into the cell. “Take this thing out of my sight,” Chan growls, he’s talking about Allerick. “Straight to the prisons with him. Do not be kind.”

“Aye, my lord,” one soldier says and there’s some shuffling. “The remainder of Erbus has fled, my lord.”

“Good,” Chan answers. “Changbin?”

“Garrison the fort, I will keep another General here.” the Commander answers, his tone distracted. “We return to Miroh immediately. We will come up with another plan once we return.”

“You heard him.”

The soldiers move around and exit the cell.

The cell becomes quiet, save for the whispers of your fellow court members. Changbin and Seungmin whisper down to Hyunjin while Minho and Jeongin coo down to you. 

You could have never anticipated the quietness that surrounds you now.

Chan’s armor clinks as he moves around. “How do they fair?”

“Horrible,” Minho answers quickly. “Horrible, Chan.”

“Her stomach,” Seungmin croaks from across the room. He sounds absolutely miserable. “Please check on her stomach.”

Both Jeongin and Minho hesitate before one of them very gently lifts the fabric of your tunic up to reveal your marred abdomen. Both men suck in sharp gasps.

“I healed her last night,” Hyunjin murmurs. “But only what I could… The poison–”

“What poison?” Chan asks, obviously alarmed.

“Mortal’s Touch,” Seungmin answers. “The one I spoke about.”

Warm, gentle fingers brush over your abdomen delicately. It still sends a sharp pain up your body and you hiss, shrinking away from them.

“Apologies,” Jeongin whines. “I believe her ribs are broken.”

You nod in Minho’s arms, some of the strength returning to your body. Your breathing is still choppy and hoarse. Every few breaths, you cough.

The clinking of Chan’s armor gets louder and you hear him kneel down next to you. Slowly, you open your eyes to look up at him. His warm, brown eyes meet yours and you swear you’ve never felt such instant comfort in your life.

Relief like when your mother held you after falling out of the tree.

Your throat gets tight and your bottom lip trembles.

He looks down at you and you see his jaw clench, the muscles in his neck shift around as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobs. He’s trying so hard to be strong right now, but you know he’s moments away from breaking down completely.

“We need to get them back to Miroh,” he says, his eyes never leaving your face. “They need to see Felix immediately.”

Minho and Jeongin both nod. The advisor slowly and carefully begins to move his arms around, preparing to carry your body out of this damp and dank cell. Your body easily falls into the comfort of his embrace.

Chan stands up first, gathering himself back together to face his soldiers, clearing his throat and looking around the cell for a moment. His shoulders roll back and his head tilts to the side, it’s that same nervous twitch you’ve always watched him have.

He walks towards the cell door, his boots hitting the ground with steady thuds.

“I want my family back home."

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.08

Your feet were aching, and the lack of sleep from the past few days was catching up with everyone, including Jace, who was starting to cry. You would need to stop walking soon to feed him; he was becoming too heavy to feed and carry at the same time, with most of his weight pressing onto one shoulder.

When a concert watch tower comes into view, you let out a sigh of relief, “We should stop here for a little bit.”

“No, we need to keep going.”

Glenn was so focused on finding Maggie he wasn’t taking anyone else into consideration. You understand why he wants to keep going, but you’d need to stop for a break at some point. Everyone stops walking aside from Glenn and Tara.

“Hold up!” Abraham shouts after them. “We’re stopping here. Tired is slow, and slow is dead.”

“It’s barely noon.”

“I don’t give a monkey's left nut. None of us has slept more than a couple hours straight since we went all Casey Jones. This place looks safe.” Seeing Glenn’s reluctance, Abraham sighs. “I get, you have to find her, but Rosita and I have a mission too. We’ve got to get that man to Washington. Plus, your friend looks like she could use a rest; no offense.”

“None taken. But he’s right, Glenn. A few hours of rest will do us all the world of good. I don’t want you passing out again.”

A walker suddenly falls from the top of the watch tower and nearly lands on top of Tara. Abraham pushes her out of the way before stabbing it in the head, but she slides forward on the mud and hits her knee on the ground.

Rosita rushes over to help her up, but Glenn beats her to it. “Do you want to stop or keep going?”

“No, keep going. I’m good.”

He seems satisfied with that answer. “Look, if she can keep going, then we can all keep going. Or you guys can stay here. We don’t need you, and you don’t need us.”

“Glenn!”

Rosita shakes her head at him, “wow, you’re an ass. Tara will do whatever you say because she thinks she owes you. Man up. Stay here for a few hours.”

You and Tara hadn’t exchanged words since you confessed what happened to her girlfriend, but watching the brunette slowly limp towards the train tracks made you furious. “Glenn, Tara can barely walk. What happens if walkers catch up with you? She needs to rest.”

“We’ll do what we always do and fight them off.”

“These people saved us when we needed them. The least we can do is wait a couple of hours, at least until Tara isn’t limping.” Your lips press into a thin line; you could tell by his facial expression he was desperate to argue against what you’ve just said. “I need to feed Jace; do what you want, Glenn, but I’m staying here until everyone is able to walk.”

He looks genuinely hurt. “We can’t split up after everything we’ve been through.”

—

After breaking for roughly two hours, everyone is more alert after testing their feet and having a few slices of fruit from a tin that you shared. Jace was no longer crying, and Tara wasn’t limping.

You reach a tunnel on the tracks that had another message from Maggie telling Glenn to keep going.

“I don’t like the look of this.” The inside of the tunnel was pitch black, and in the distance you could hear the faint sound of walkers snarling. “There needs to be another way; this is too dangerous. We have no idea what’s inside there.”

“We could walk around it,” Rosita suggests.

“No, that will take at least a day. If Maggie went through it, then I’m going through it. We’re close.”

“Shut up a second,” Abraham says, pointing out the sound of walkers. “You hear that? That there is a long, dark tunnel full of reanimated corpses. I don’t have full-on certainty that I can get Eugene through there alive.”

“I’m with Abraham; I’m not taking Jace in there. If he cries, we’ll be surrounded and will never get out. I’m going to take the extra day to go around the tunnel safely.”

“Maggie is waiting for us on the other side; she’s your friend,” Glenn snaps, the frustration of his desperation showing.

“Yeah, Maggie is my friend, and Jace is my son. She would want me to prioritize him.

“I need to go to her.”

“I get it; I really do, but I need to think about what’s best for him.” You hug Glenn, “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?”

Knowing there was no point in arguing with him, Abraham opens his pack back and takes out a few cans of food and gives them to Glenn. Tara steps forward, “I’ll go with you.”

Glenn seems uncertain, almost emotional about what to do. “Y/n, please come with me. We can make it through; our people will be waiting on the other.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

You share one more look before him and Tara disappear into the tunnel. Your throat starts to tighten as tears well in your eyes. You didn’t want to lose Glenn as well, but both of you would do what you thought was right. Forcing a smile, you wipe your eyes and turn to face the others. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways if you guys are going back for that truck we passed.”

“No,” Abraham places his hand on your arm. “What you told Tara takes balls. I can respect that. We could use someone like you to get Eugene to Washington, but I know you need to find your people first.”

“So…?”

“We’re going to help you find them,” Rosita smiles. ”

—

“Ma’am, I don’t think he likes me.”

You laugh seeing Eugene holding Jace so awkwardly. He only needed to hold for a minute so you could redo your laces that have become undone, but Jace wasn’t happy about it. Abraham and Rosita were sitting on rocks, watching in amusement.

“Mommy.”

Jace holds his arms out for you to take him again; his cheeks flush red from upsetting himself. Just as you go to take him, you hear rustling in the bushes and snaps of branches. You listen for a few more seconds and realize it’s coming from behind you. Spinning on your heels, you raise your gun and point it at the person standing behind you.

“Sasha…”

You put your gun pack into its holster and pull her into a hug.

“Sasha?”

“Bob, Maggie!” She yells, “Y/n and Jace are alive.”

—

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Eugene asks uncertainty. Abraham went back for the truck you passed, but instead of going in the opposite direction, he used it to drive into the tunnel to go after Glenn and Tara. Since Eugene was a terrible shot had one job, and that was to hold Jace inside the truck.

“Just don’t drop him!”

You slam the door shut and then start firing at the walkers that Glenn and Tara are surrounded by.

Once the walkers are down, Tara comes over to you and squeezes your good shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it; you’re one of us now, and that’s what we do. We save each other.”

—

After spending the night camping out in the tunnel, you make it through to the opposite side by midday. When the place you have been searching for comes into view, you almost struggle to believe it’s real. “This place looks like a fortress.”

Terminus looks like it was once a warehouse, but now it has been turned into a community. It had small, flourishing gardens scattered across the outside of it.

Abraham nudges you with his elbow, “Do you think your brother is in there?”

“I hope so.”

“I left more messages telling our people where to find us,” Maggie says. “If you guys saw it, I’m sure they will as well.”

[seasprincess]

bsf!jj who needs comfort angst

warnings: mentions of abuse

JJ is a troubled boy, anyone who knows his name knows that. Luke Maybank being the main cause of that.

So it’s not uncommon for JJ to knock on your window late at night. Bloodied and bruised due to the fact his father had just gotten drunk.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom. Bent over as you carefully wipe his split lip. Him twitching as the cold paper touches his skin.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask this question everytime and usually get the same answer back. And this time it’s no different to usual.

“No.” He says bluntly. He doesn’t mean it to be harsh. He just isn’t great with his emotions. Evident in many prior situations.

“Okay.” You say softly, not wanting to push it and make things worse. All you want to do is make him feel better.

Your hands pulls the wet cloth away, chucking it in the bin as you look into his eyes.

“Don’t do that.” He says, his talking not helping the split lip as it keeps reopening. Not allowing it time to heal. But JJ never shuts up so that lip will be taking a while to heal.

“Do what?” You’re genuinely confused as to what he means. He is always confusing.

“Lookin’ at me like you feel sorry. Don’t want that shit.” JJ’s hand comes and rubs his mouth. Eyes averting your gaze. Thinking if he looks away everything will disappear. That this nightmare will be over.

“Well I am sorry.” You reply before grabbing his cheeks and making him look at you. Thumbs brushing them softly not wanting to hurt any of the bruises on his face. “I’m sorry your dad doesn’t see how special you are.”

And with that the tears that were threatening to escape his eyes falls down his cheeks. He hates crying, hates it so much. He never cries infront of anyone. But with you. He cares a little less.

Your arms wrap around his head and body as you pull him into a hug. Your shirt getting wetter as his tears pick up. He just cries softly into your chest, arms slowly reaching your back as his breaths stop and start.

You place a kiss on the top of his head as you play with his hair. There’s nothing you can say or do to help him. Just being there for him is enough.

He just needs you to be there.

a/n: need to give him a hug so bad.

[ameliathornromance]

“This is Hell.” You groaned to yourself. Curled up under the bedsheets of your shared tent, you lay, with your arms clasped firmly around your lower stomach in the fetus position.

It was the only way your period cramps would stop… sometimes. And today, was not a ‘sometimes’ day.

You thought, God forbid, for a moment before you came on, that you were spared one month of this. But of course, the usual fears came into play – could you be pregnant?

And after determining that there was no way you could be, you thought that this might just be a month where you missed your period.

It was joyous for you. You felt like you could frolic in a field, hair flying in a warm breeze as you hop, skipped and jumped. Right up until you woke up this morning with the worst cramps of the whole of your menstrual life.

You had been in bed the whole day because of them. Your Orc boyfriend had done his best to comfort you when you woke up, but unfortunately, none of his reassurances or soothing back rubs could quell the pain of your uterus taking revenge for your fantasies of one month without a period.

When it was clear that his efforts were doing nothing to sooth the pain, he sighed. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get for you?” your boyfriend asked, feeling completely powerless to the machinations of your body.

You groaned, sarcastically, “you could get your hands on some chocolate for me.”

Chocolate was a rare thing for people of your social standing to afford. It was only given to the richest of people and you had only tasted it once while you were working in a Nobles house for a brief moment.

Right now, the idea of that velvety sweetness gracing your lips was all you could think about right now.

Your Orc, who could sense that you were not in the best of moods, grunted and stood. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You felt guilty asking for it in such a tone. It’s not like your boyfriend had done anything to deserve your sardonic attitude. He was only trying to help.

After that, you hadn’t seen or heard from him for the rest of the day. Your hormonal brain had convinced you that he had abandoned you for how you treated him and sent you into a fit of tears.

Which is why when he came back, you were surprised to see him grinning from ear to ear.

But at the sight of your tears, his expression fell. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” Your Orc rushed over and placed what he was holding on your bedside table.

You sniffled and dried up your tears using your sleeve as you apologised, “I-I’m sorry for being horrible earlier,” you sniffed, “I didn’t mean it, I’m in a lot of pain so please don’t leave me alone!”

Your Orc let out a sigh of relief to your surprise and smiled at you, “honey it’s okay. I know this time is really tough for you, I get it.” He picks up what he left on the bedside table and held out a steaming towel to you. “Here for your cramps.”

Taking the towel, you wrapped it around your stomach and the clenching pain of your abdomen ceased instantly.

More tears began to run down your cheeks as your Orc cupped your face in his hands, “oh I’m so sorry sweetheart, if I’d known it hurt that bad, I’d have been quicker about coming back.”

You shook your head, just grateful for him to be there.

“And, I know you said it with a hint of sarcasm, but I found some anyway.” He held out a small box to you.

You stared at it, taking it from him.

The box was gold and held together with a silky black ribbon tied into a bow, with a tag that had some random mans name scrawled on it in cursive.

Tugging on the ribbon, the bow collapsed and allowed you to open the top of the box. Inside, wrapped in small, individual shiny pieces of paper, was chocolate.

If you were crying before, you were now sobbing. “I… I don’t deserve you.” You said, tearfully. “You’re too good for me.”

Shaking his head, your Orc dried your tears with his thumbs, “that’s nonsense. We all have tough days, okay?” Placing a kiss on your forehead, he made you look at him. “And I’m not going to go anywhere. I promise.”

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@sunndust @greenie-c

[thebdsmsofurlife]

Confessions of a Manipulator

It was almost too easy.

It usually is. It’s not hard when you know what to look for. The insecure ones. The ones looking for approval from an authority figure; desperate for approval, attention, acceptance.

Speak kindly to them. Show interest - but not too much interest. Don’t make it look like you want anything from them. You want to give the appearance that you’re casually surprised to see her again but you can’t hide the flash of excitement - the physical confession of how impressive she is - that crosses your face.

Then slowly insert moments of intense attention. A couple minutes of utter focus, like you’re hanging on her every word. Nothing in the world is more interesting to you than what she will say next.

Then move on. Have a few days where you’re just so busy. Smile and wave but keep walking. You’re not giving her the cold shoulder, you’re not an incel trying to “neg” her. You’ve got a life, you’re busy, you’re focused on other things.

Make her crave your attention. Make her obsess over what she can do to get more of it.

Sure there are quicker ways to get some women into bed. But I wasn’t after a quick half hearted fuck followed by a couple awkward conversations.

I wanted her to give herself over to me completely. I wanted utter control. I wanted her to sacrifice her self respect at the alter of my acceptance.

It took six weeks, from the time I decided I wanted her until I invited her to my house so I could cook her dinner.

She came over dressed to impress. High heels, a cute little skirt, a tight top. She looked beautiful, absolutely stunning - and I told her so.

A nice meal. A couple glasses of wine. A long conversation mostly focused on her. It was a great date.

By the end I knew a couple more dates like that and she’d eagerly jump in my bed. But that wasn’t enough. I needed to push her boundaries. I needed her to hate how much she loved what I’d done to her, so the next time she came over she would consciously sacrifice a piece of herself, knowing what would happen once she got there.

I walked her to the door with my hand on the small of her back. I waited until she was a step from the door before I spun her, pulled her to me, and kissed her.

After a startled hesitation she kissed me back. It was sweet, intense, passionate. I pulled her body into me, my hands sliding over her back. I slid a hand up her body to the back of her neck. I stepped into her, bodily pushing her back against the door.

My hands slid down her waist, over her sides, brushed against her breasts. It wasn’t until I reached for the buttons on her shirt that she broke of our kiss.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m not …”

I cut her off with my mouth on hers. I got three buttons undone before she broke the kiss off again and grabbed my hands in hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not ready.”

I smiled at her. “Yes you are,” I said. “You just don’t know it yet.” I held her hands in mine and lifted her arms above her head.

She tried to resist a little - or maybe it was a lot for her. It’s hard to tell as she isn’t very strong.

I held her arms up and kissed her neck.

“Stop,” she said. “Please.”

Between kisses I murmured, “I can’t. I want you so much. I’ve wanted you so long.”

I grasped her wrists with one hand and slid the other down her body to her thigh. I ran my hand up the back of her leg, pulling her skirt up as I went, and cupped her ass. I pressed myself against her, letting her feel my excitement.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whispered.

I kissed her neck, down between her breasts, up her throat. When I tried to kiss her lips she turned her head, so I kissed her cheek.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promised, “but I have to have you. I can’t help it. Just let me take you.”

I tasted a little saltiness on her cheek. I think she might have been crying. I don’t know. I kind of stopped paying attention to her reactions. I was lost in the moment.

I pulled her over to the couch, pushed her down on her back, and climbed on top of her. I pushed her legs apart with my knees and pressed myself against her as I started kissing her again.

This time she didn’t fight me when I unbuttoned her shirt, nor when I pulled her bra down to get to her breasts. I kissed a line down her neck, over her shoulder and down to her breasts. I covered her breasts with little sucking kisses, ran my tongue in little circles around her nipples, while grinding myself against her.

I lifted my body off hers enough to undo my pants and pull out my dick. I was so hard I ached. I just wanted her so much.

I kissed my way back up her jaw while wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck. I slid a hand between us and pulled her panties to the side, working myself into position.

“I love the taste of your skin,” I murmured as I pressed my cock against her entrance. She was so tight and wet - probably against her conscious desire. I worked myself into her slowly, letting her adjust to the feel of me inside her.

I wrapped my arms around her head and pressed my lips against her ear. “You feel so fucking good,” I said. I slid inside her gently. Every few strokes I pushed myself completely inside her and ground myself against her.

We made love like that for several minutes, me kissing her cheek, nibbling on her ear. And this time, when I went to kiss her on her lips she didn’t turn away. I guess she knew it was going to happen so she might as well give in to it.

As I kissed her I started working myself inside her faster. Thrusting and grinding, not trying to split her in two, but enough to show how much I wanted her.

When she moved her hands to my back, and started gently rubbing me, I knew she’d already given a little bit of herself. The thrill that went through me - I can’t even describe it.

But I wanted more. I needed to push her further.

I pulled myself out of her and climbed off the couch. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her off as well, setting her knees on the floor. I stood over her and cupped her face with one hand. When I pressed my dick against her mouth she slowly parted her lips.

She closed her eyes when I pushed myself into her mouth, but she took me none the less. I held her still with a hand on the back of her head and started to thrust into her mouth. Her tongue slid down my shaft as I pushed at the back of her throat. I didn’t push hard enough to make her gag - there was plenty of time for that later. I just thrust into her mouth, strong but gentle thrusts.

I was already close to the edge at that point and it only took 3 or 4 minutes until I was ready to explode.

I think she realized it too - I guess my grunts gave it away. I could see it on her face, like she was preparing herself for me to cum in her mouth.

But at the last moment I pulled out. I held her head still with one hand and finished myself off with the other. I cursed as I came, unloading on her face and chest. I threw my head back and groaned as I covered her, the release was so fucking intense.

It was a terrible thing to do to her, I know. Humiliating. Shameful. But I’d kept my promise. I hadn’t hurt her. It was a gentle debasement.

I looked down at her and smiled. “God, you’re beautiful,” I said as I looked at her cum covered face. “You’ve never looked prettier.”

I cupped her face with my hand and brushed my thumb over her cheek.

“You’re stunning,” I said. “Absolutely perfect. Turn around. I’ve been dying to taste you.”

She looked up at me completely bewildered. So I took her hands, lifted her to her feet. Gently, but firmly I turned her around, pushed her forward so she was kneeling on the couch and bent her over so her face was pressed into the back cushion.

I scooted back a bit to give myself room and pushed her skirt up over her hips. I slid my fingers into her panties and pulled them down to her knees slowly. I ran my hands up and down her legs, over her ass, feeling the softness of her skin.

“Fucking perfect,” I growled.

I squatted down behind her and kissed the back of her thighs. I kissed up one leg and down the other. I wrapped my hands around her thighs and pulled her legs apart.

I planted my face between her legs and started licking her pussy. I ran my tongue between her lips, over her clit. I kissed and sucked her folds between my lips.

I explored her with my mouth, my tongue - eager to give her pleasure. I murmured and growled how good she tasted. I slid a hand between her legs and spread her so I could taste ever part of her.

I wanted her to feel good. I wanted her to enjoy it, to think back and remember how it felt. I wanted her to know that even though I brought her so low, I took time for her pleasure. I wanted to teach her to begin to crave more despite herself.

I enjoyed her like that for several minutes before narrowing my focus on her clit. I opened my mouth wide, spread my tongue flat and lapped her like a man lost in the desert finally finding his oasis.

It didn’t take long like that before she gave into the feeling. She started to rock her hips and make this low groaning-purring sound. I kept my rhythm steady, pressing in, reaching out to fondle his breasts as I continued licking her pussy.

She let out a near scream as her entire body tightened like an electrical current had run through her, constricting every muscle. I lapped at her until her body relaxed and she breath slowed to a deep, heavy pant. I kissed her pussy, the inside of her legs and over her ass.

I stood and ran my hands up her back to the back of her head. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and gently turned her face toward me.

Her eyes were closed so I said, “Look at me. I want to see those beautiful eyes.”

She did. She looked me in the eye for only a moment before looking away, but I swear in that moment I saw a flash of every emotion known to man. Her conflicted emotions were an exquisite sight.

I leaned over and kissed her, long and hard, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue. As I did I started rubbing my dick against her pussy.

After a couple minutes I straightened and positioned myself behind her. I slid myself back inside her and held myself still, buried to the hilt.

“God,” I groaned. “I just can’t get over how good your pussy feels.” I slid my hands around her and grabbed her breasts as I began to thrust into her again.

I was not as gentle this time. I wanted to see just how far I could push her, how much she could handle. I wanted a clear baseline to compare with how far down the rabbit hole I’d take her.

I started thrusting into her harder. Standing straight, I held her still with a hand holding her hip and started pounding into her.

“Spread your legs,” I commanded. And when she hesitated I slapped her on the ass. “Spread them.”

She did, shifting her knees a little further apart.

I slapped her ass again. “Wider.”

She moved her knees some more. I slapped her ass again. And again. She spread her legs as far as they’d go, straining against the panties still wrapped around her knees.

“Fuck. Good girl” I said. I held her hips tight and slammed into her, our bodies slapping into each other’s in a beautifully sharp rhythm. “Fuck,” I said again. “That’s how you take a dick. That’s how you take a fucking.”

I reached forward and grabbed her by her hair. I turned her face toward me again and told her to look at me.

“That’s right. Look me in the eye while you give me this pussy.”

She lasted just a moment before she closed her eyes again. It was enough though. I wanted that image burned into her brain. I wanted her to remember looking back at me, looking me in the eye as I railed her. I wanted her to wonder if she had actually given me her pussy or if I had taken it. I wanted her to doubt herself.

I pulled her head off the back of the couch and turned her sideways. I climbed on my knees behind her, pushed her face down into the seat and shoved my dick back into her.

I fucked hard, slamming into her with her face buried in the cushions and her ass in the air. I bunches her skirt up in my hand and used it as a handle, pulling her back to meet me with each thrust.

I was close to cumming again and I slammed into her harder and harder. Her knees gave out and she fell down flat on her stomach. I rode her down, fucking her flat, holding my self up with my hands on her shoulders. Her leg slipped off the couch and her entire body almost followed along, but I held her in place and kept pumping until I exploded, filling her push with my cum.

I collapsed on top of her, a panting sweaty mess. Once I’d caught my breath I gently brushed the hair from her face. I kissed her cheek lightly.

“God you’re beautiful,” I said. “Stay with me tonight. I want you to stay the night. I’ll cook you breakfast in the morning.”

There was a long pause before she whispered softly, “ok.”

I smiled to myself. God, this girl had no idea what she was in for. She had no clue just how far she’d end up sinking for me.

And it’d been so easy.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi, I was wondering if I can ask a request for Eddie Diaz x Female Paramedic Reader smut, where they both can't keep their hands of each other and in means of finding a private place end up in the back seat of Eddie's pick up truck and do some 'things'. I am just dying for some soft Dom! Eddie Diaz smut, thank you.

Yes, yes! Thursday’s episode, I could keep my eyes off him! What a beautiful man!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) slight dom!eddie

“You’re so pretty,” Eddie tells you as he lies on top of you in the back seat of his truck. His hand travels up your thigh and gives it a soft squeeze as his lips find yours once again.

This has become something you've done almost every single night after your shifts. Since you want to keep what's going on between the two of you a secret, you always end up meeting in a random parking lot when you always find yourselves in the back seat of Eddie's truck.

"No I think that's you," you argue as your hands slide into his hair as his lips find their way to your neck. You gasp as he gives it a rough suck and he chuckles against your skin in response.

"How about we both be pretty then?" He asks before nipping the spot right under your ear as his hands move to undo your bra.

"W-works for me."

"I think this is where you look the prettiest, though," he says, as he tosses your bra into the passenger seat before moving down to your chest, kissing all the way down your torso. "When you're underneath me."

He always knows exactly what to say to get you wet and he knows how good he is at it. You can see it in the look in his eyes. His hand unbutton your pants and he pulls them down, not missing the wet patch on your panties. He's quick to take them off along with your socks and shoes and he spreads your legs wide to get a good look at what he's working with.

"Is this for me? Honey, you shouldn't have."

The teasing was funny at first, but now you're getting desperate. You need him to do something now or you're gonna finish the job yourself.

"Eddie, please," you whine.

"Please what, honey?" He knows exactly what you want, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to beg for him, to whine, to cry and then he'll give you what you so desperately want.

"Please fuck me. I need you." Your whining always does something to him and now he's tenting in his pants. He's so hard that it's starting to hurt. He needs to get inside soon or he thinks he might explode.

"Well that was all you had to say. Now relax. I'm gonna take care of you."

You watch him retrieve an condom from his pocket and he sets it to the side as he gets himself undressed as quick as possible before rolling the condom onto his cock. Once he's ready, he doesn't hesitate to fully sink himself inside you just how he knows you like, watching your face the entire time.

It seems that no matter how many times you've fucked, he has to stretch you out every time. He can tell that it's still a lot for you to take in and he can see that you're already crying. He asks if you want to stop because of your obvious discomfort, but you just say not, shaking your head furiously. You're not going to be fully satisfied until you can feel every inch of him.

Once he's fully in, Eddie stays there, seeing just long you can hold out and when you ask him to keep going, he pumps in and out, fucking you fast and hard and deep as his hands pin your wrists to the seat, nothing but filthy words coming from his mouth as he does so.

Your moans are nothing but delicious as they fall from your lips, and mixed with your labored breaths, the windows are fogging up pretty quickly. Eddie has barely even done anything, but you already feel so tired from it all.

"You're starting to slur, hon. Already fucked out, huh? Does my big cock wear you out, baby?" All you can do is nod in response. "Alright, well, give me one more and then I'll take you home. Just one more, baby. You can do it."

Eddie gives you a few more thrusts and you're orgasming, your back arching as you do so. His hands slide underneath you as he talks you through it, encouraging you the entire time. And once you come down, Eddie lays you down on the seat and then he cleans you up with what he has in his glove compartment before he helps you get dressed. He then helps you into the passenger seat before he takes you home where he cuddled you until the both of you fell asleep, wrapped up each other's arms.

[skzficstapes]

track 02: ghostin by ariana grande – a sequel to ghost of you

The room was dim, the soft orange glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. You sat up in bed, knees pulled to your chest, gazing out the window at the quiet city streets below. The stillness of the night was only broken by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic sound of Jisung’s breathing as he slept beside you.

You had thought it would get easier. You’d thought that time would dull the pain, that the weight of grief would lift and you’d finally be able to truly feel the love that Jisung was offering you. But tonight, like so many nights before, memories of Chan crept in, uninvited, relentless.

You wiped at your cheek, your fingers trembling as more tears began to spill, faster than you could stop them. You kept trying to stay quiet, to keep them from waking Jisung, but your shaky breaths betrayed you.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and groggy, cutting through the dark like a thread. The bed shifted as he sat up beside you, his eyes blurry with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly turned your face away, your heart hammering in your chest. “Nothing,” you whispered, voice breaking as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to break free.

Jisung wasn’t fooled. “You’re crying again,” he said gently, his voice laced with concern. His hand brushed lightly over your arm, his touch warm and grounding in the cold emptiness of your heart. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, but your voice cracked on the last word, the lie feeling like acid on your tongue. “Go back to sleep.”

But Jisung didn’t move. He never did when you were like this. Instead, he slid closer to you, his body pressing against yours in the dark, the warmth of his presence steadying your fraying nerves. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but filled with an unspoken promise.

The weight of his kindness, of his understanding, hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. The sobs broke free, harsh and jagged, as you buried your face in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words raw and pained, the guilt swallowing you whole.

Jisung said nothing at first. He simply wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His fingers threaded through your hair, his touch tender, unhurried. He didn’t push you to explain, didn’t ask for more than you could give. He was just there.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered after a while, his chin resting on top of your head, his breath warm against your scalp. “I know you miss him.”

“I hate this,” you whispered, the words muffled against his shirt. “I hate that I can’t let him go. That I’m still... holding onto him when you’re right here.”

Jisung’s arms tightened around you, a brief, fleeting hesitation before he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there, the touch gentle but filled with an ache that mirrored your own.

“You don’t have to apologize for how you feel,” he said, his voice steady despite the heaviness of the moment. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“But it’s not fair,” you said, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. “To you. To us.”

Jisung’s gaze met yours, and in that moment, you saw the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes—the hurt, the understanding, and something else. Something deeper. Something you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge before.

“Fair doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “What matters is that I love you. And I’ll take whatever you’re able to give me, even if it’s not all of you right now.”

His words hit you like a blow, the guilt twisting in your chest, making it hard to breathe. “You deserve more than that,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Jisung laughed softly, but it was bitter, touched with an emotion you didn’t quite recognize. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “You think I don’t see how much it hurts you to let me in? How much it hurts me to know I’ll never be him?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you reached for him, your hand trembling as it brushed against his. The guilt was suffocating, a constant weight on your chest that made it hard to breathe. You had never wanted to hurt him, but you were doing it anyway.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel worse,” he said softly, his tone suddenly tender. “I just... I want you to know that I get it. I know you’re still grieving him. And I know it’s going to take time. But I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.”

The tears came again, hot and unstoppable, as you reached for him, your hands trembling as you touched his face, desperate to feel the warmth of him. Jisung didn’t hesitate. He met you halfway, cupping your face gently in his hands. His lips found yours, slow and tentative, as if he were afraid you might pull away, that this would somehow break you more than you already were.

But you didn’t pull away. You clung to him instead, letting the kiss deepen, pouring all the gratitude, the apology, the guilt, and the love you felt for him into it. His lips were soft, warm against yours, and for a moment, the shadow of Chan seemed to fade just a little.

When you pulled away, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

“I dream about him sometimes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And when I wake up, it feels like I’m losing him all over again.”

Jisung’s eyes closed briefly, his jaw tightening as he held you even closer. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow. “And it kills me that I can’t make it better for you.”

“You do,” you said quickly, your hands gripping his shirt as if you could ground yourself in the safety of him. “You do, Jisung. You’re the only reason I’m still standing.”

His eyes opened, and there was a mix of hope and pain in them. “Then let me keep standing with you,” he said quietly. “Let me help you carry this, even if it’s heavy. Even if it hurts.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you buried your face in his chest. His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—you could find a way to hold onto the past without losing the present.

“I love you,” Jisung whispered, his voice breaking just enough for you to feel the weight of his words.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, the truth of it settling into your chest like a bittersweet ache.

It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t what either of you had imagined for your future. But for now, it was enough.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, someday, it would be enough to heal.

[psiimaid]

viz remembering the ancestors exist and thinking that they can in some way profit from them is soooo scary. nightmare fuel!

[nanaslutt]

nanami overstimulating himself to make sure his pretty gf gets off >.<

minors and ageless blogs dni

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

telling nanami “don’t stop” when he’s fucking you because youre sooo close, but he’s at his limit. he tries to relax his kegels so he lasts longer but he can’t help it, it feels too good and you’re so tight around him as you’re working up to your orgasm he can’t help but cum inside you

he keeps fucking you though his orgasm, teeth gritted and eyes rolling back in his head. all he wants to do is freeze up and let his body jerk and flex and he fills you up, but he can’t just leave you unsatisfied. it’s taking everything in him not to stop thrusting, his groans are so loud in your ears.

he abruptly pulls you on top of him and bounces you in his lap, his legs are shaking from overstimulation but he needs you to get there. “use me, make yourself come on me sweetheart.” his words are rushed and breathy, but he manages to get them out. you place your hands on his chest and slow your bouncing, feeling his come start to drip out of you.

“but you already came, ken.” you reason, your voice just as ruined as his as he helps you rock your hips back and forth on his pelvis. his cock is twitching, and his abs are spamming from overstimulation. every atom in his body is telling him to stop fucking you because it’s too much, it feels too good it hurts, but he can’t leave you hanging.

“i know, finish yourself off. don’t worry about me, I can take it.” and take it he does. you start bouncing on his lap and nanami has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from crying out. his tip is so sensitive and you keep thrusting it right against your sweet spot, it’s making him dizzy.

nananmi’s thighs are pressed together to tight, his legs are nearly crossing as his body tries to excape from the painful pleasure, but he grunts and breaths through it. he’s already hard again, forced to get up from your warm walls fucking him and sucking him in. it doesn’t help that you’re so much wetter from his orgasm now, it’s so fucking much tears well in his eyes.

“kento, kento.” you cry, and nanami nods, biting his lip as he forces his eyes open to find your clit with his thumb. he rubs quick, sloppy circles against the little bud, his body shaking and jerking when he feels your walls tighten around him. “come, come honey, f-fuck.” he doesn’t curse a lot during sex, but this called for it.

the second he feels you orgasm around him, his balls draw up and he’s cumming too. his back arches and he wraps his arms around you, keeping you flush against him and still while he fills you up. his eyes are crossed and he swears he’s seeing stars behind his eyes from his hard he’s cumming.

“don’t move.” he grunts in your ear, his sensitive cock twitching with his aftershocks against your walls. if you moved again he would pass out, his tip is probably so red it’s going to ache when he pulls it out of you. “don’t move until… until i tell you to.” he grunts out, biting his lip as he feels his cum overflow from your pussy and drip down his dick.