#the atmosphere is so thick and then it just doesn't do much with it

[wokeuplaughing]

I thought longlegs was so okay

[lovegasmic]

HOT MILF NEXT DOOR

──── Kento, Toji, Sukuna x f!reader.

cw. age gap ( all characters are 25-29 and reader around 44-46 ) , creampie , breeding kink , trophy wife cheating on your husband with a younger plumber Toji ( Megumi doesn't exist ), oral, rough sex with Sukuna ( you babysit Yuuji ) uncle Sukuna.

original full post in the title, I had to re post this bit because I deleted the original reblog by accident. this is mostly just to back up

hot dilf next door out now 𖥔 satoru, suguru, choso version 𖥔 genshin version

KENTO !

the faint mark of a ring around your finger, the soft thud of boxes being left on the sidewalk, all leading to the moment your youngest child finally moves to college, sharing teary goodbyes and hugs as you wave them one last time. so, you’re finally alone...

Kento is not a creep, nor does he intend to sneak his way into your heart the moment you’re finally alone, no, he wants to offer nothing but support.

he walks to your home with easy steps, casual and unconsciously wearing his best suit, not that he wants to impress you, it’s just a coincidence.

“you’re so mature for your age” is what you say, and everyone does, to be honest, but somehow coming from you is not that bad anymore, does that mean you could actually give him a chance?

a tray of freshly baked cookies is placed upon your kitchen counter, a gift from Kento that’s now long forgotten, too busy listening to your complaints with no ill intentions behind them, just sharing how though life has gotten, but don’t worry, Kento has promised to stick with you.

you’re such a pretty woman to cry, each one of your tears tugging at his heartstrings, and his rough and large hands are the perfect comfort for your aching heart.

none of you actually notice when the atmosphere changes, when your soft sighing against his neck turned into whimpers of pleasure by having two of the man’s fingers knuckle deep in your cunt, rapidly dragging the tips across your fluttering inner walls and palm eagerly rubbing your swollen, needy clit.

“that’s it, gorgeous, you’re doing so well” all you need is some relief, of your burdens and sexual tension building up from so long, Kento is more than happy to help, gently scissoring his fingers into your pussy, a bit more stretch so you can accommodate his cock next. you look much better when you’re crying in pleasure, pawing on his shoulders while guiding the thick head of his cock to push past the slight resistance of your pussy, every little vein throbbing and massaging the ache inside.

gushing pussy, welcoming every inch into the depths of your body, almost immediately starting to suck on the girth, squishing your soft breasts against the toned and smooth expanse of Kento’s chest, each muscle rubbing on your nipples so addictively sweet your pussy pulses even more.

the blonde has often mentally slapped himself for lewdly thinking how you’d look fucked, although the image in his head could not compare to the real thing, forcing his load to blow as deep as possible into your sweet pussy, hands on your soft hips, grinding you down until you squeak and cum, creating a bigger white-ish mess on your laps with the diluted semen seeping out of you.

instead of sulking in your sadness, you should ride his cock more often.

TOJI !

working several jobs at once was never an easy chore, but the black haired managed, one had to do whatever it took for some money. and the fancy apartment building you lived was something he could only dream about, compared to his shabby room where he just slept and jerked off to the thought of you.

“where is the leak?” his rough voice echoes, contrasting with the way too fancy and perfect state of your penthouse, fixing his thick denim pants with a tool belt attached, attempting to hide the bulging erection at the sight of you on that flimsy robe you loved to wear.

you’re so soft, with gorgeous curves as you guide him into the kitchen, are you swinging your hips just for him, or is it his lust clouded imagination?

“would you like something to drink?” you offer so sweetly, already grabbing a glass while Toji slides under the kitchen sink, checking the... perfectly maintained pipelines.

with a raised brow, he stays there, pretending to fix a non existent leak, “a lemonade would be good, thank you, doll” he tries, hoping that little nickname will bring him good luck later. the way his thighs spread when he hears you around is definitely made on purpose, can you see how hard he is for you?

once the... job was done, Toji sips on his cooling drink, eyes scanning the adjacent living room where a framed picture of you and your husband hangs, he’s too old, and you’re clearly a trophy wife.

“how much do I owe you?” you bat your eyelashes, and the flutter mimics the pulsing of his cock.

“don’t worry about it, doll, is not a big deal” Toji attempts to play his cards, hitting on your heart first with a closer step, checking your reactions.

“oh, please, Toji...” it’s a low purr and you’re doing it on purpose, “at least let me thank you for your help”

what a little minx, with soft manicured hands on his broad chest, eyes cute and filled with lust while staring up at him, a pretty thing like you needs to get fucked, and it seemed like you needed it bad.

the framed family picture smiles down at your bent over form, robe flipped open, panties pooling around one of your ankles and Toji’s thick cock plunging into your soaked hole, earning a very slight spank on a jiggling ass cheek, “take it, doll, fuckin’ take this cock in your gorgeous pussy”

a mewl seeps past your lips like the string of drool pooling on the kitchen island, pussy fluttering around the girth, desperate to pull deeper, to suck as much as your hole could possibly take.

it doesn’t take long for you to cream his cock, having it abusing the deepest part with perfectly angled hips was quite easy to send you over the edge, your toys were good, but fuck, Toji knows what he’s doing.

a thumb hooks on the side of your cheek, pulling your soft folds open to stare down at the flutter, at the way you’re spread and speared on his cock, at his mercy. “that’s it, doll, take my cum” he grunts, balls pulsing and squished against your clit while his thick semen fills your womb.

“that um, pipe might break soon, call me again” he winks, now fully dressed and with a fat wad of bills you tucked in his shirt pocket.

SUKUNA !

“do I have to do it?” Sukuna groans in annoyance, gripping the phone where his brother spoke through.

“i don’t have anyone else to pick Yuuji, just do it once”

with another groan he agrees, hanging up the call while shrugging the girl clinging on his arm, the frat party is as annoying as ever, his life as boring as ever.

hands shoved in his pockets he waits for you to open the door, impatiently tapping on the floor as if he had something better to do than take care of his little nephew until Jin came out of work. he’s damn tired, almost about to knock again until you open, angelically smiling at him with a little Yuuji perched on your hip.

“hello, you must be Sukuna”

he wants to knock you up.

in a blink, that cocky smirk is again in place, “that’s me, i’ll take the brat now” then he’s pulling Yuuji onto his side much against the small boy grumbling.

what a good brother and uncle is Sukuna, offering to pick up Yuuji from now on, what a kind soul, making you open up to him more and more until he’s comfortably sitting on your couch, baby Yuuji sleeping upstairs and a warm, flirty laugh echoes through the living room. Sukuna knows you’re aware of his advances, and who you are to refuse a cute, ripped and younger boy’s attention.

and that dick was to die for.

“fuck, sweetheart, you’re a pro” he grins, licking across his teeth while you slobber all over his cock, tongue and lips caressing the fat girth, saliva dripping to coat his full and heavy balls slapping against your chin, “made for take my cock down your tight throat, fuck!”

you can feel your juices dripping down your thighs, pooling on the wooden floor, while you feast on Sukuna’s thick musky scent, adding to the soft pulse and slight salty taste of the tip hitting the back of your throat.

thank fuck he does not keep you waiting, “come here, get on your knees, I need to cum in your cunt”

who are you to refuse such a sensual order? shakily climbing on the leather couch that squeaks under your knees, fingers twisting around the armrest while Sukuna pushes into, “is that how you fuck your classmates?” oh, baby, you’re screwed.

Sukuna takes that as a challenge, arching your back, spreading your asscheeks and pounding into your hole, adoring the slapping sound of his balls slapping your wet flesh, soaking in your warmth, “i’ll show you how I fuck a gorgeous woman like you” and he does, trying to prove you how he’s more than a cocky, pretty face, having you squeaking his name, begging to be creampied until next week.

his eyes are hooded, strangely overwhelmed by your pussy, by the easy glide that welcomes more and more into your depths, begging, craving, crying for his cock, to be pounded into oblivion. “i need to keep you full of me, smelling like me” each word is accentuated by a thrust, ignoring the way his balls clench in a signal that he is about to cum.

“ah, u-ungh... Sukuna, ah, you feel so good, love” why does the tenderness in your voice make his tip twitch and splurt another wave of pre?

“yeah, sweetheart? you like it? you love how I pound your creamy pussy?” almost breathless, panting in attempts to hold back a strong orgasm, needing to drive you insane first, to have you gushing, squirting all over his thick cock before he finally, finally gets to claim that sweet release inside your willing, still very much fertile body.

[aajjks]

Hot Eve (m)

synopsis. getting fucked raw by your ex boyfriend stuck in an elevator on Christmas Eve.

warnings. 18+, ëxplïçït sêx, ünprôtëçtëd sêx, nønçøn sêx, stälkër ëx böÿfrïënd jk, yn ïs kïndä mørälïtÿ cørrùpt yn, ëlëvåtør sêx, yândërë thëmës, därk smüt.

note. LAST WORK FOR 2024!!!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MY CHRISTIAN FOLLOWERS! 🎄❤️❤️‍🔥. this year was hard as fuck. I’m not okay but let’s hope I’ll be so much happier starting from next year. enjoy this!!!! share feedback! gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest.

December, 25th. It’s Christmas.

It’s the favorite time of the year for you, you love it, the cold, the sweetness of the blessings of Christmas. The streets are lit up. Merry atmosphere everywhere.

But all you feel is dread.

he’s near..

Your legs are on fire, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as you sprint down the hallway.

The sound of his boots echoes behind you, heavy and deliberate. He's not running. He doesn't need to.

The elevator is so close-just a few more steps.

You slam your hand against the button, frantic, fingers trembling. The soft ding of the arriving elevator is barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears.

Don't look back. Don't look back.

But you do.

Jungkook is there, closing the distance with that infuriating, unhurried stride, his lips curled into a smirk like he's already won.

His black shirt clings to his muscular chest, and his eyes gleam with something feral, like a predator toying with its prey.

The elevator doors glide open, and you dart inside, stabbing the close door button over and over again. You're muttering under your breath, desperate, “Close, close, please just fucking close-“”

The doors start to slide shut, and relief washes over you. But then you see it-his hand. Thick, veined, and steady as it wedges between the closing doors.

The elevator jerks back open, and your stomach twists into a sick knot of dread.

Jungkook steps inside, slow and casual, like he's got all the time in the world.

There's something deliciously pathetic about the way you shrink back against the wall, like you honestly thought you could get away from him.

It's adorable. Pathetic, but adorable.

He lets the silence hang in the air for a moment, drinking in the sight of you.

Your chest is heaving, your cheeks flushed, and those pretty, wide eyes are staring up at him like you're terrified.

Good.

He steps forward, his boots heavy against the floor, until there's no space left between you and the cold metal wall.

“Really?”

You are so fucking dumb, but so cute.

He drawls, tilting his head as his lips curl into a lazy, mocking smirk. “The elevator? That's the best you could do?”

His voice drops, low and biting. “What were you gonna do, huh Ride it to safety? Maybe hide in your little fucking apartment and pretend I don't exist?"

He chuckles darkly, his tongue sliding over his teeth. “Cute. Stupid as fuck, but cute.”

Your throat is dry, and your legs feel like they're about to give out. He's so close now, the sharp scent of his cologne invading every breath you take, mixing with the heat radiating off his body.

“Jungkook, I'm serious. You need to leave,” you manage to say, though your voice comes out small and shaky, utterly unconvincing.

He laughs at you. A sharp, humorless sound that makes your stomach churn.

“Serious?" he repeats, arching a brow as if the word itself is a joke. “You're fucking hilarious, you know that? Acting all big and bad when you're shaking like a goddamn leaf.”

His hand slams against the wall beside your head, and you flinch hard. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “Tell me to leave again. Go ahead.”

You will never… because you can’t.

“Let's see what happens.”

You're trembling, looking at him with those big, frightened eyes, and it's making his cock ache.

He hates how much he loves this— loves the way you run, the way you fight, like it's anything more than a game to him.

He tilts his head, dragging his gaze over you slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring every inch. You're perfect.

So fucking perfect when you're like this.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice low and sharp.

“Standing there all scared and pretty, like you don't know exactly how this ends.”

“You like this shit, don't you?” His hand trails down your side, possessive and unapologetic, and he smirks when you squirm. “Running away. Making me fucking chase you. You get off on it.”

Yes you do.

You try to push him away, your hands pressing weakly against his chest, but it's useless. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head in one fluid motion, grinning when you gasp.

“Stop fucking pretending,” he growls, his eyes darkening as they lock with yours. “We both know you like it when I get like this. You fucking love it.”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. You hate how strong he is, how easily he can overpower you.

But what you hate more-what terrifies you- is that some part of you does like it.

God, he’s so hot..

“Let me go,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a plea than a command.

His grip on your wrists tightens, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against your lips. "

“Let you go?” he repeats, his voice mocking. “That's cute, baby. Real fucking cute.”

His free hand slides down to your waist, gripping hard enough to make you wince.

“Let's get one thing straight,” he murmurs, his tone dropping to something dark and dangerous. “You're mine. Every fucking inch of you. And I'm not letting you go anywhere.”

He's hard as a rock, the sight of you pinned against the wall, helpless and trembling, driving him wild.

His gaze drops to your lips, parted and soft, and it takes everything in him not to devour you right then and there.

“You can run all you want,” Jungkook says, his voice thick with lust and something darker.

“But you'll never fucking get away from me. Never.”

His fingers dig into your waist, his body pressing against yours, caging you completely. He wants to mark you, to ruin you, to make sure you never even think about leaving him again.

Your entire body feels trapped in a vice, his presence suffocating, overwhelming. You hate how he's looking at you-hungry, like he wants

to devour you whole, like he owns you. And maybe he does.

The words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between fear and something darker, something shameful…

Your cunt feels so damp.

You twist your wrists against his grip, but doesn't even flinch.

it's effortless.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice shaky and thin. “This isn't-“

“This isn't what?” he snaps, cutting you off. His voice is low, rough, teetering between anger and lust. “What you wanted? What you've been fucking asking for this whole time?”

His fingers dig into your waist, and you feel the heat of his body press harder against yours. You can't look at him, can't handle the intensity of his eyes burning into you.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze fixed on the wall behind him.

“I said look at me.”

He releases one of your wrists only to grip your chin, forcing your face up until you're staring into those dark, furious eyes.

His pupils are blown wide, and the muscle in his jaw ticks with restraint.

“See this?” he growls, his tone dripping with venom as his free hand grabs your thigh, hitching it against his hip,

“This is what happens when you try to run from me. When you act like you don't fucking belong to me.”

You're trembling under his touch, and it sends a sick, addictive thrill straight through him. He can feel the way your body betrays you, the way your breaths come quicker, the way your thighs press together even though you're still pretending to fight.

“Fucking liar,” he mutters, his lips curling into a sneer. "You say you want me to leave, but you don't mean it. You never fucking mean it.”

Jungkook knows you..

He drags his hand along your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave marks, his body pressing closer, caging you completely.

You're his, every inch of you, and it pisses him off that you even thought you could get away.

“You think I'm stupid?” he spits, leaning in until his mouth hovers over yours. “You think I don't see the way you look at me yn?”

He mocks, licking his lips, his tongue teasing you.

“Fuck baby… you’re making my cock ache.” He groans, biting his lower lip, his hand leaves your thigh to settle on his own zipper.

Your eyes wide because you know what he’s about to do and you want to stop him, but no words come out of your mouth because your brain has stopped working.

All you can think, feel.. and smell is him.

“Fuck yn… I’ve been warning you for the longest time.. you have no idea how horny I am right now…” the way his eyes are clouded with lust tells you everything you need to know.

He looks like a feral animal.

He unzips his pants, letting it fall down and then he presses a button on the elevator, making it come to a halt. You shudder in fear.

“J-Jungkook..” you manage to slip out his name from your mouth, but before you can say anything else, he crashes his mouth to yours.

His tongue forces itself into your mouth as he uses his other hand to usher his boxers off. You whine in his mouth, trying to stop him but—

God, his tongue feels so hot.

Your pussy clenches as you both kiss. He’s not just kissing but he’s devouring you, his free hand cages you in, making sure you can’t escape.

His hard free dick is pressing against your stomach, his other hand hurriedly goes to your skirt, unzipping it he catches the hem of your underwear, he yanks it down, as his tongue completely dominates your mouth.

You moan helplessly.

But he doesn’t let you break the kiss,, you’re already soaking wet.

His teeth nip at your bottom lip as his tongues go to assault your mouth. Then without a warning he shoves his cock inside your wet right cunt.

A guttural moan escapes his throat as he growls into your mouth like a wounded animal.

He’s finally getting to fuck you after so long.

And your knees go weak, like jelly. It’s too late now.

He starts to pound into you hard and fast, your back slamming continuously against the elevator wall, he pulls you up by your hips and wraps your legs around his waist.

After finally breaking the kiss, his thrusts only her more brutal, you scream in ecstasy and pain, burying your face in his neck as you grip on his shoulders tighten.

“Fu-Fuck yn you’re going to make me fucking cum.”

Again, his hungry mouth finds yours, devouring with desperate kisses as he moves his hips, fast.

“O-Oh J-Jungkook…”

•••

Hours go by. You’re fucked out- he’s sweating, you’re actually paralyzed but he’s not stopping, uoure still stuck in the elevator, thank fully the fan of the machine is keeping you alive but the elevator reeks of sex.

What have you done? Getting fucked by your psychotic ex on Christmas Eve.

And he’s about to cum inside your cunt raw.

And you are going to do nothing about it. Like always.

“Merry fucking Christmas my love.”

[applejusue]

She's the bouncer at your favorite nightclub, and you've never managed to get her to break character. After another night of flirting that you figured would lead you nowhere, you get a hint that maybe she doesn't dislike you as much as you thought.

◟`# fiction contains: bouncer!abby, femme!reader, alcohol, drinking, cursing, sexual language, creep behavior, blood, fluff.

INDEX //

The Firefly was always your favourite nightclub, with music just loud enough to shake your ribs without driving a drill through your skull the next morning. The place was always dark, with twinkling lights decorating the ceiling that made it feel like you were dancing in a crystal cave. The atmosphere seemed to have that effect on everyone else too, the staff constantly having to split those who get a little too carried away on the dance floor.

The patrons were alright, mainly women your age with sparkling platforms and skirts short enough to make a nun drool. Each night was a statement, a new theme that would follow cocktails and music. Along the walls, people would crawl against each other, hidden in the shadows as they shared cigarettes. In the middle of the dancefloor, it was a sea of hair glitter and sweat. Bodies mashed against each other while drinks spilt between breasts. It was chaos, it was perfect.

It had started innocently enough, you were with a group of friends this time. Your pink lipstick sparkled under the lights, body already hot with sweat as the four of you grooved to the music, giggles sprinkling the air. You fanned your face playfully as one of the girls dragged you in, dancing up close and personal as you both shouted the lyrics. Yeah, you were absolutely pissed, but that never hurt anyone. Eventually you pried yourself from the floor, tottering yourself over to the bar and ordering your fifth sex on the beach.

You'd just about managed to haul yourself upward onto the precariously high stool, your gaze fluttering around the packed club. You were keeping an eye out for your bouncer, Abby. The only reason you knew her name was from the security badge she always had strapped to her arm. You were certain that you got on her every last nerve, and you couldn't blame her. Whenever you got drunk, it was like you couldn't keep yourself away, like you had to annoy a stone-faced security woman.

The tart drink burnt down your throat as you continued to survey the battlefield, and it only took a minute or two to find her. Abby stood out like a sore thumb, thick arms folded as she hovered against the back wall. She'd move occasionally, usually just to adjust her earpiece or break up a fight, but for the most part she just watched. You couldn't fathom how she always kept a straight face while girls shook their asses in the hopes of a slap, while drunk idiots stumbled over themselves on the dance floor.

You grinned, beaming like a giddy kid about to do something that would definitely get them in trouble. The world spun slightly as you pushed away from the bar, heels clinking against the sticky floor as you pushed through barriers of sequins and stilettos. You were too focused on not falling on your ass to realise that Abby's eyes were following you, watching as you waded through the lively crowd. You managed to clamber out the other end, and she barely even blinked as you pranced up to her.

Immediately you wrapped around her side, long nails resting against her bicep as you gave her a quaint cuddle, like you weren't a stranger. Abby didn't move, just continued to survey the dance floor like you weren't clinging onto her arm. She was used to you by now, with your sticky pink lipstick that always ended up staining her shirt collar, the smell of your perfume and those sickeningly sweet drinks that stick to her coat. You were drunkenly babbling something in her ear, but she couldn't hear you over the music.

Abby stood a little straighter, just so that you wouldn't fall while leaning against her shoulder. You'd taken to using her like a big warm post, and begrudgingly, she always let you. She pretended not to notice as you peeked up at her blearily, lips puckered in a small frown that she wasn't listening to what you were saying. Then came the question that you asked without fail every time you found her at the club.

"..Wanna buy me a drink?"

The words would come clumsy, and she'd heard a million variations of the sentence from your glossy lips. You'd have to speak loudly, and like every other time, she gave you the same answer.

"I'm working, princess.."

Her voice was low, gruff over the thrumming music that filtered through the stuffy room. She'd never break face, you knew that by now, but part of you still hoped that maybe just once you'd get more from her than that. You groaned gently against her shoulder, too leathered to even bother hiding your annoyance. While your head was buried, a small, almost invisible smile tugged at her lips that she quickly schooled as you pulled away.

Abby watched with composed amusement as you stumbled away from her, still wobbling on those damn sparkly platforms. How you were still standing was a wonder to her. She winced each time you lost balance, only prayers away from nosediving against the dirty club floor. You'd had a few more drinks than usual this time, and the rejection stung that little bit extra when you couldn't see straight. Your eyes glistened, and in your efforts to get away from the crowd, you bumped into a flat frame.

The man turned with a glare, though the expression dissolved to something even less appealing as he set eyes on you. Despite your murmured apology and attempts to keep pushing away, he somehow felt the need to grab onto your arm. He stumbled slightly, breath stinking of beer as he leaned down to speak against your ear. Over the blaring music you couldn't even make out what he was attempting to say, instead just feeling that uncomfortable heat of someone's breath against the side of your neck.

Hastily you tried to agree with whatever point he was making, probably something to do with the fact that you weren't twirling with him or that you looked 'too pretty to be sad'. Irritation was bubbling up in your gut now as he continued to grip your arm, completely ignoring the way you were trying to writhe away and escape how suffocating the dance floor was. It felt like you would drown amidst the sea of people, nobody paying you two cents despite the man who was trying to press up to your thigh.

You recoiled immediately, tripping over your feet with a scuffle as you plummeted. It was rigid, sticky down there, and you didn't even want to think about what was beneath you. You tried to push yourself up, acrylics scratching across the tiles as your head continued to spin. You could feel the stares, the glint of teeth that were focused on your rid up skirt. Then someone knelt beside you, a firm hand gently grasping your shoulder and hauling you upward.

Abby supported your whole weight with one arm planted steadily around your hip, her free hand dragging that dickhead by the scruff off of the dancefloor. Your knees hurt, and you could feel a dribble of something hot running down your leg. The drunkard got the hint, well aware that putting up a fight with a woman double his width certainly wasn't worth his while. Abby mumbled something into her earpiece as she guided you away from the bar, settling you down on a sofa in a quieter room near the back.

Tears continued to glisten in your eyes, now spluttering down your cheeks along with the mascara you'd applied twice over. Abby gazed down at you, not exactly equipped to handle situations like this. She hovered, and then she let her hand settle on your head, her coarse palm smoothing down your mussed up hair before she moved to crouch by your knee.

"Now now, don't ruin all that pretty makeup with tears.."

She huffed gently as she fished some antibacterial wipes from her security bag. Her words were more of a reflex than anything, as your face was already covered in dark mascara streaks and smudged lipstick. You winced as she pressed the wipe to the small cut on your knee, her free hand holding the back of your calf to keep you still.

You continued to stare down at her with blown out, watery eyes. She was completely focused, cleaning off the dirt and blood that clung to your leg. Abby then grabbed a small plaster, ripping the wrapper with her teeth before bringing it to your leg. For such a strong woman she placed the bandaid so gently across your knee, pressing it in with her finger to make sure it stuck.

It was the first time you'd really gotten to hear her voice, to feel her touch you back, and despite your pouted lower lip it made your heart flutter. You were drunk and humiliated and the last thing you'd wanted was for her to see you fall on your face. Abby watched as you avoided her gaze, your usual bubbling confidence smothered. She stood back up, wiping a stray tear with her thumb. A sigh left her lips, like she already knew she would regret this.

"C'mon princess, let's get you that drink.."

[tojigasm]

Thinking Kylo and manhandling and pussy eating because im needing that right now

He'll literally just flip you over and pull your hips back to meet his in one swift movement. And it happens so fast you don't even realize it until the thick of his cock is splitting you open again and the plush of your ass is pressed into the fabric of his robes.

He's never been that rough with you before.

However, there was an innate desire that simmered within your heat at it – and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on just a little bit.

He doesn't do it again for a while after that and so you consider it a one-time thing, jocking it up to stress or him having a bad day.

Until it happens again.

You were making your way back to Kylo's quarters when he met you halfway.

The atmosphere was abnormally tense and it was stressing you that you couldn't read him while he was wearing his mask.

Kylo must've sensed that much as he removed his helmet and moved to hold it at his side.

"Hi." You offered

Kylo merely grunted before a gloved hand was placed at the curve of your jaw, holding you still as he backed you into a cornered hallway and pressed you into the wall.

His helmet dropped with a 'thunk' startling you.

"Sorry," he hummed. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

His lips were on you as soon as the word left his mouth. Plush lips pressed to your own and his broad nose grazing the skin of your cheeks.

Kylo brought his other hand up to the wall beside your head, keeping you in place as he moved to press a line of kisses down your jaw to the base of your neck.

And in an instant, his hands are moving – the one on the wall moves to cup your jaw and the other drops to cup your cunt.

You whimper under him, grinding your hips into his hand wantoningly.

"Kylo," you try through a whisper, "someone's gonna see."

"Shhh" he brushes you off as he moves to his knees, pressing a line of wet kisses down the front of your uniform to your cunt.

His hands move to rest on your hips, gently circling the pads of his gloved thumbs where the shirt of your uniform rose up.

You almost squeal when Kylo shifts one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the fabric of your pants as he works his way up to your cunt.

You laugh confoundedly, shaking your head as he keeps direct eye contact with you.

"We're gonna get in trouble."

Kylo merely rolls his eyes before his mouth is on your cunt and your head is rolling back against the wall with a shakey moan.

The feeling is tantalizing. Tingly and stark as the fabric of your uniform rubs into your clit and Kylo's spit soaks the texture of it into your pussy.

It's erotic and all the same humilating knowing that he's got you right where he wants you. And that if anyone were to turn and wander down the narrow hallway that they'd come face to face with your commander knelt between your legs.

Your head is swirling with it.

"Stop thinking," Kylo grunts into your cunt, readjusting your thigh on his shoulder as he licks a fat stripe up the soaked outline of your folds.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth with a whimper. "It's hard. You're being mean."

At that, Kylo seems to take mercy on you as he pulls off of the soaked crotch of your pants with a 'pop'.

"You want me to stop?"

Your breathless, panting against the cool wall and hands holding onto a lock of Kylo's hair for stability.

"Please," you say softly, hoping that he'll understand.

And he does.

He rises to his feet with a groan before scooping you into his arms.

You link your own around his neck and duck your face into the thick of his cowl.

"Too much?" He asks as he makes his way towards his quarters.

You shake your head against him.

He nods, and you can feel him press a kiss to whatever skin of your shoulder he can meet.

[mahgyu]

❝ I ONLY LOVE IT WHEN YOU TOUCH ME, NOT FEEL ME ❞

──── Warm jets of water bathed every inch of Toji's skin, the sound of water falling onto the floor in a cascade echoed throughout the bathroom. With his heightened senses, Toji quickly noticed the presence of another person with him in the bathroom, but soon flashed a brief smile when he realized it was you.

After observing over his shoulders, he goes back to soaking his dark hair, removing any remaining traces of shampoo. You allowed yourself to feel the droplets dripping from Toji's body as you hugged him from behind, uniting both bodies.

Even though you and Toji were just hooking up, the intense connection between you two was undeniable and the chemistry you possessed was palpable. When your bodies were together, they exuded lust.

"I don't usually shower with an audience, doll." He says playfully, without even turning in your direction.

"Would you prefer I leave?" You ask softly, as you slowly kiss Toji's shoulder blades.

"You know well that staying here is dangerous, don't you?" He turns to face you, his eyes locking with yours, both gazes silently expressing desire, orbs burning under each other's stare.

"Tsk, and what more could happen?" Your arms wrap around Toji's neck after your suggestive question.

"Playing the dumb little girl doesn't suit you at all." He responds promptly, moving his face slightly closer to yours.

You feel graced by the sight before you: Toji displaying a small and suggestive smile, his tempting scar curving along with it, his wet hair dripping and water running down his muscular body. Now, still trapped under Toji's penetrating gaze, you can feel him brushing his cock against your skin, soon bringing his mouth to your ear.

"It's getting hot in here, don't you think?" He whispers, the warm breath blowing against the side of your face, making your body shiver all over.

You are already more than surrendered to Toji's firm touches on your equally water-soaked body. His mouth trails a path to yours, where he doesn't hesitate to kiss you with a certain roughness. The atmosphere shifts completely; the only sounds echoing through the bathroom are the waterfall of the shower and the vulgar sounds coming from the two of you.

"I need you so much, Toji..." You whimper, pouting softly against his lips.

In a sudden gesture, Toji lifts you effortlessly off the ground, pressing your body against the cold and wet wall. His mouth moves away from yours just to better capture your expression when he thrusts his hard cock into your intimacy.

Your pleasure rapidly escalates, your senses overridden by an overpowering urge to cry out for Toji after the initial thrusts into your needy pussy.

"Do you like it this way, kitty? Do you like how my cock hits you just right, huh?" Toji taunts mockingly, growling hoarsely as he hits deeper.

It seemed magical the control Toji had over your body, how powerless you felt when his cock was treating your pussy this way. It was never in your plans to be completely surrendered to Toji, but it wasn't something you could decide or choose, he had that hold over you.

"A-ah, Toji!" Your whimpers please Toji's ears. The shower water still flowed incessantly, both the moans and the friction between bodies seemed to compete for which sound sounded louder.

"Come on, sweetie, cum for me, cum with me." Toji urges. Your vision blurs and the knot in your belly unravels as you reach the peak. Toji reaches his own climax simultaneously, releasing the thick and milky liquid inside you, mixing it with your juices. The sweat of both is washed away by the shower above as you both try to align your heavy breaths, your once desire-filled gazes now reflecting satisfaction.

⠀

So I don't leave you all missing me for too long 🤭

I tried to correct it briefly, but I'm too tired to distinguish what's right or wrong there, sorryyy :c

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

[rcmclachlan]

"Everyone at Harbor was... very concerned."

"Attention, all channels: Please be advised, a team from the coroner's office and biohazard removal specialists have been dispatched to LAFD Station 118 for the removal of human remains."

It takes a second for the words "Station 118" to penetrate the thick atmosphere of concentration and rage that Tommy's been floating on while he tries fruitlessly to sweet talk the Bell 505 into accepting the new safety wires he's been trying to install for the last half hour, but the second they do, he tosses down the needle-nosed pliers in his hand and makes a bee-line for the radio sitting between Dana, Nico, and the unpeeled tangerine Nico's eating like an apple.

"Did they say human remains?" Tommy's already reaching into his pocket for his phone, then curses under his breath when he remembers it's sitting in the cockpit of the Bell. He glances across the hangar and gauges the distance. He can probably get to it in ten seconds if he sprints.

"Shut up," Dana says as she turns the volume dial up.

"Be aware that crowd control has also been sent to clear the area. If you are called to an emergency scene in the general vicinity of Station 118, you are advised to avoid Gale Avenue and the surrounding streets until further notice."

"A kid was probably trick-or-treating and found some old lady who'd kicked it like a week ago." Nico takes an unconcerned bite of his tangerine, because there's something severely wrong with him as a person. "It's probably nothing."

"That's not nothing?" Tommy looks at Dana for help, but she just heaves a sigh and gives a long-suffering flick of her fingers in Nico's general direction. Which, honestly? Fair.

"They said the remains were at the 118," she muses, pulling out her phone and scrolling through with her thumb, not a single movement wasted. "No one there ever gave off a serial killer vibe—I'm not counting that little blond shithead from a few years ago—so I'm chalking it up to a good old-fashioned misunderstanding."

Nico coughs around a bite of tangerine, rind and all, and Dana doesn't so much as glance his way while she slams a fist into his back. To the casual observer, it probably looks like they're rehearsing some slapstick routine, but every member of the 217 knows that the second Nico gets his hands on any kind of foodstuff, he's immediately seven or eight seconds away from death.

They've had to perform the Heimlich nine times this week alone, and it's only Thursday. He keeps meaning to ask Howie if it's possible to survive solely on IV fluids, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Nico would just manage to choke himself out with the tubing.

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. "Nico, I'm begging you: chew your food. Or, like, peel the rind off first."

"Every part of the animal, my man," Nico trills cheerfully, wiping his mouth. There are orange bits stuck in his teeth.

Holding up a hand, Dana taps her phone with her thumb, her neon green nail—filed to a point so sharp it might actually violate the contract they all signed about not bringing weapons into the workplace—clacking against the screen. The sound of a calling dialing out filters through the speakers and it only takes two rings before someone picks up.

"You good, Dana?"

"Hey Mohini, I'm fine," Dana says with a small uptick to the corners of her mouth that could be almost be described as kind, and just seeing it makes Tommy's skin crawl a little. He glances at Nico, who has stopped trying to kill himself via citrus fruit and looks every bit as disturbed as Tommy feels. The last time Dana smiled, it was right before she launched herself at the asshole who told them to take their time rescuing his stepkid from the fire that was consuming the cabin his family had rented for the weekend.

They saved the kid, and the guy was too shit-scared of Dana to even consider suing her or the department for his broken jaw. He was also dealing with a sudden divorce.

The ex-stepkid writes to Dana every month. Tommy can't prove it, but he thinks he once saw her throw an envelope with the kid's name and address into the outgoing mail pile, and he's also too shit-scared of Dana to bring it up.

Dana catches his gaze and he mouths, who even are you?

She flips him off, which honestly does wonders to assuage his fears of her being possibly possessed.

"What's up, girl?"

"We heard the APB just now. What's going on with the 118?"

"What isn't going on with the 118?" Mohini laughs a little, crackling over the line. "From what I've heard, Firefighter Buckley bought a mummy for the Trunk or Treat thing they put on every year. A real one."

Startled, Tommy looks at the phone in Dana's hand and asks, very slowly, "He bought a corpse?"

Tommy can feel Dana's pointed stare on the side of his face, mostly because his skin is starting to sear, but Tommy can't do anything but stare at the phone and try to process that one. And he just can't. Every time he tries, the smell of burnt toast gets stronger.

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised. We've been overdue for a Buckley-related call. I mean, it's been two months since the last one. Remember the thing with the HVAC unit on Sunset?"

He barely remembers that Buckley-related call, but he does remember the one from three nights ago in great detail, which ended with him rimming Evan until he cried and then fucking his brains out. Apparently Evan forgot to put them back in before he bought a dead body to use as a Halloween decoration.

Blowing out a breath, Tommy turns on his heel, jogs over to the Bell, and grabs his phone from the pilot's seat.

Evan, are you okay? Dispatch said something about an incident at the 118, he texts, deliberately vague. He's been told once or twice that his texting tone can sometimes border on an interrogation, which is bullshit, because texting doesn't have a tone, but he doesn't want to be an asshole when he knows Evan's probably beyond humiliated about this.

Plus, Evan doesn't necessarily know that Tommy knows about the mummy. It'll be much better if he has the opportunity to tell Tommy on his own terms.

<< omw 2 the hospital. im ok!

Or he could just be incredibly Evan about it.

>> What happened?! Do you want me to meet you there? I can leave right now.

<< Awwww <3 Eddie going 2 meet me there. Come by l8r?

>> As soon as my shift ends, I promise. Are you sure you're okay?

<< disloc8ed shoulder

Evan literally had to go to a different keyboard to find the 8. Tommy hates how hard he's falling for this ridiculous person.

>> I'll fly there if I have to. Text or call me anytime, okay?

<< :-) :-) :-)

It's three smiley faces. It's nothing, and yet something inside him eases, turns three times, and curls up with a pleased purr.

Since he left the 118 and decided to finally live the life he'd spent his life refusing to allow himself to have, he's dated four people, Evan included. What he feels when he looks at those smiley faces is more than what he felt about the other three people combined. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. He never put stock in the whole 'there's someone for everyone' thing Sal's wife likes to throw around, but then he threw caution to the wind and kissed a beautiful, babbling man silent, and in the weeks that have followed his life seems so much more than he ever imagined it could be.

He has no idea how any of this is going to shake out, and chances are he's going to screw this up spectacularly, but he taps his finger gently to the middle smiley face and hopes Sal's wife is onto something. Maybe there really could be someone for him. Maybe that someone texts like a twelve-year old.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Tommy sends back a single smiley face and pockets his phone. And then immediately takes it back out and sends like five more, because he's pathetic.

Dana and Nico are right where he left them, and as soon as he gets close, Nico sits up and levels him with an expectant look.

"Are they gonna shitcan him? You know the LAFD will shitcan anyone no matter what the circumstances are," he says gravely.

Primly, Dana touches the points of each of her nails to the pad of her thumb. "Nico, if you didn't get shitcanned for tricking Chief Bailey into shrooming at the Backdraft Ball last year, I think Buckley's in the clear."

"That was a complete misunderstanding," Nico swears for the thousandth time.

Dana gives him a slow blink. "It was not. You pulled a jar of mushrooms out of your jacket and said, 'I'm gonna send Chief Bailey to Jupiter.' I have no idea why you're not in jail."

Smug as anything, Nico preens a little. "Chief B was going through some stuff and we went on a very good trip together."

Tommy and Dana share a dubious glance, because that could mean anything from impromptu therapy to having sex in the bathroom where the two of them were found. And Tommy's not one to judge anyone's sexual proclivities, but Chief Bailey is in his early eighties and has very well-documented hip problems.

"How's the human terrier doing? Did he dig anyone else up?" Dana asks. Her expression gives nothing away, but he knows she's laughing at him deep down in whatever black hole her body uses to siphon off emotion.

"Har har," Tommy deadpans, then pauses. "I actually don't know the answer to that. I'm really hoping it's just the one corpse. He did manage to dislocate his arm, though."

"I bet they're gonna shitcan him," Nico says.

"I bet Donato's gonna kill you in cold blood for eating her tangerine when she gets back," Tommy says brightly.

"Probably. I couldn't help it. Stolen food tastes better; it's a law of nature." Nico makes a thoughtful sound and gets to his feet, stretching languidly. "Since I'm already marked for death, I might as well eat her potato salad while I'm at it."

He and Dana watch him amble away in search of Lucy's motive, and Dana asks, genuinely curious, "You ever wonder if the LAFD will go against the grain and hire someone normal?"

"Only every day of my life," Tommy admits. "Speaking of which, did your friend have anything else to say about Evan's, uh, taste in Halloween decorations?"

She shakes her head. "It's with the police now. You off to see your grave robber?"

Huffing a laugh, he lightly kicks her foot. He doesn't know what it says about him that hearing Evan be referred to as a felon fills him with such fondness, but he decides to shove it out of sight until he can study it in greater detail when he's alone.

"My shift ends in a couple of hours. He can keep himself out of trouble until then." Tommy thinks about it for a second and amends, "Probably."

Two hours should be plenty of time to finish fighting with the safety wires, shower real quick, and then break a handful of traffic laws on his way to First Presbyterian. He can only hope Evan doesn't dislocate his other arm or lock himself in the morgue in the meantime.

"Hey." Dana kicks his foot and he lifts his gaze to hers. She stares at him for a moment and, terrifyingly, her mouth quirks again. "Happiness looks good on you, Kinard."

He ducks his head, smiling helplessly. "It's early days, D."

"So what? Doesn't mean you can't be happy about it." Dana shrugs. "I'm thrilled, frankly. Now we've got someone on the inside who can give us firsthand intel about what the fuck goes on over there."

"I'm not a spy," Tommy says flatly.

Dana nods. "True. But it won't be long before you're an accomplice."

Like it's a foregone conclusion that he's going to throw in with Evan and Evan's family. The hurricane could be written off as an outlier, but Tommy knows the second they come to him again for help—the very instant Evan asks—it's going to be an immediate yes.

"If it comes to that, will you bail me out?" he asks, half-jokingly. He won't do her the disrespect of trying to deny it. She's always had his number.

"No." Dana gets to her feet and reaches up to pat him on the arm. "I'll let Donato do the honors."

He'd rather stay in jail.

[mihii-i]

Heyyya just wanted to see if I could request a Hyun ju x fem reader ? Maybe they got super close quickly or were friends/lovers/exes from before the games, but either way they care a lot for eachother. Then maybe reader gets on the red team during hide and seek game and she finds the room where everyone else was (Geum Ja and Jun Hee) and she doesn't know what to do because she didn't have the guts to kill anyone yet. So perhaps Hyun Ju tries her best to reassure readers, but not much time is left. Maybe... Reader does end up killing someone (like one of the assholes finalists...), maybe with the help of Hyun Ju. Or.. she doesn't manage to kill someone and dies :(

Could be angst, hurt/comfort or... Hurt/no comfort if reader ends up dying

I do, my love.

Pairings: cho hyun-ju x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, wlw, uh oh girls kissing, established relationship pre-game, hehe heavy angst, hurt no comfort, self deprecation, physical and mental illness, hyunju fucking dies (again), reader mentally deteriorates, insomnia, reader subconsciously grabs hyunju’s tit at some point I forgot where, but I probably felt the urge to grab them at the moment so it’s in there, I actually wasn’t planning on this but I wanted to cry again, squid game season 3 spoilers, blood, violence, choppy writing in some parts, not proofread.

A/N: actually I feel REALLY mean I’m gonna go plot twist and stray from one of the options you gave me…creative freedom dare I say? now playing — heart afire by defqwop ft. strix. 🕯️

‘I’ll be back.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘I do, my love.’

—

Warm under the shroud of your thick blanket is where you resided in the shallowed comfort of your bedroom. Head tipped back to savor the cold sweeps of air kissing your skin under the sweltering heat during the day when you remained outside. Your personal sanctuary that eased the tension coiled in your muscles within the cover of night that cloaked the vicinity in its darkened veil through the thin slivers of moonlight spilling through your window.

Though, the calming atmosphere wasn’t enough. Your final charm always kept at your side whenever your body was pressed against hers. Seeking out even a strip of her skin peeking past her hitched up shirt as your shoulder relished in the radiating heat that enveloped you in a bind. It was quite comforting even in the buried depths of your mental shame you kept tucked away, brushing off any doubts stemming from others regarding your state.

Hyun-ju’s presence alone could alleviate those concerns swirling themselves into a maelstrom of guilt that latched onto your conscience. Despite your girlfriend picking up on your evident troubles, palpable through the silence heavy in the air from the way you bit your tongue and tucked away those wretched turmoils, she refused to push past your barrier of comfort. No matter how much it hurt her to see each handprint of your troubles creeping up your skin, catching up to you in the worst way possible.

After all, keeping secrets was only natural, wasn’t it?

Your lips pressed to hers, savoring only a momentary taste of burning passion spilling on each others’ tongues before the taste grew metallic with the bitter tinge of lies. Truly, you were in love with Hyun-ju to the point it would wear away your soul if you were apart from her, eroding you from the inside out if you were to ever lose her. Yet the demon that lay on your shoulder only cut off the words of your crippling debt that resided on the tip of your tongue, before patting the mask back over your face.

You loved her. You loved her so much.

You didn’t want to lie to her. But would she think less of you?

It was silly to think the woman you were so deeply intertwined with would depart from you from something as trivial as your financial state. Perhaps it was your pride that lingered within your chest, refusing to stand down as you trudged forward in your hardships. And kept to the goal that you’d be with her through her hardships, remedy with them with a snap of your finger and treat her like a queen. Truly.

Hell, you’d even tried your best to scrape together every pathetic page of cash you had left, scratching at the worn wood of your drawer to look over anything you could possibly gather. You promised you’d move with her to Thailand, the least you thought you could do was pay for the trip.

However, you couldn’t shake that nagging feeling that Hyun-ju hid something away from you as well, something leveled to your own issues whenever hee back was turned to you toward the curtains. Or when she’d subtly creak open the front door before glancing back at you hesitantly as you’d blink your eyes open groggily to make out her silhouette, parting your lips to inquire on her potential whereabouts. Her reassuring words alone were more than enough to knock you back out, trusting Hyun-ju’s ability to protect herself.

Your debt proved to fail you. Both of you. Tucked away in a shell, never to be rescued.

—

“…Hyun-ju..?”

Your exhausted mumble into the fluffed serenity of your pillow vibrated against your throat, under the pale moon sneaking through your window to brighten the nightstand, alongside the glowing red numbers broken up on your digital alarm clock. Hyun-ju stood at the side of your bed as your eyes fluttered open, lashes obscuring the outline of her frame knelt down at your bedside as her fingers danced along your cheek idly, eyes meeting yours.

She breathed out a quiet hum upon taking your limp hand in her own, awaiting your frenzied state to adjust accordingly to acknowledge her presence before you. You couldn’t even fathom the slightest jerk around you as your glossy eyes remained blurred in the dim lighting of your apartment. Days had crossed you, zooming by on end from the shallow waters of cruelty lapping away at you from the ankles up.

Debts growing to strike into your personal life as well through several envelopes slid under your door, morphing reality into hell as the two bled together in a storm you clawed your way out of, yet couldn’t escape. For the crinkled, off white pages of eviction notices, accompanied by threats from loan agencies to toss you out onto the dust littered roads where you supposedly belonged, wasn’t short of a punishment catching up to you no matter how fast you ran. Even now, you had begun to mask your growing sickness that snowballed up to this point, consequently due to your inability to purchase medicine for even the slightest plague on your body.

Hyun-ju stroked her calloused hand over your cheek, the rough skin a comforting juxtaposition to the sweat smoothing over your own. The once mesmerizing shine that glinted upon her eye in the dark, as brilliant as the burnished diamonds of her earrings you’d help her pick out back during a time you had gone out together. Arm in arm with her smile brightening every darkened, dull aspect of your life when everything was okay. Or rather, when you pretended everything was okay.

“Mmh..are you going out again..?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, (Name).”

“…it’s fine. Stay safe, please?”

A soft kiss was imprinted onto your lazily sprawled out hand hemmed between Hyun-ju’s grasp, the plush of her lips brushing over your skin in an almost euphoric manner you wanted to savor before she managed a smalll nod. But alas, the sensation of your lover had slipped away as soon as she had come close in no less than a split second.

When the door had clicked shut behind her, you couldn’t help that abrupt twinge that disrupted your peace as Hyun-ju was absent in every aspect ultimately. The urge to rip off the door and trail after her screaming at every inch of you to pry apart the fog that seperated you, along with allowing the lies to finally be freed from your chest as the internal box of truths shifted open to intertwine you with her.

You were far too gone, utterly lost without Hyun-ju whenever she wasn’t by your side. The world had kept you tied at her hip to where you couldn’t shake that awful nagging feeling whenever she wasn’t apart from you, even an inch away. Perhaps it had been something fated by a higher power, a sign that you couldn’t let her go no matter how far apart you two were, considering that she always stayed ingrained into your mind every waking moment of the day.

Croaking out a rugged yawn, you flexed your already knotted nerves outward as you glanced over at the nightstand. Drawers crooked and half opened as the lamp’s dim glow began to dwindle within the beat up lightbulb fighting to keep its sorry excuse of a light. You extended a shaky hand toward the top drawer splintered in wood, masked by the darkness surrounding you with the moonlight being your only guide as your fingers hesitantly curled around the metal knob. Sliding it open in a grating drag.

There sat nothing but the card you had received when you were down at a subway a couple days ago. Resting in a muted light brown with thick lines of black in the designated shapes: circle, triangle, and square. In that exact order.

You remembered a certain phone number printed on the back of the card as well upon receiving it back at the subway, staring down at the neatly arranged business card of sort through your fuzzy head stinging from the bright red slaps planted onto your cheek.

‘Let me know if you’d like to play more games, ma’am.’

The salesman’s words continued to crackle on repeat in your brain like a broken record, cocky grin plastered to his face as a sort of tactic to remain in your memory. Almost as a belittling reminder of the crippling debt you were stuck in, tinged with a side of your very body at risk from being cut open at the hands of loan sharks. You aimlessly closed your grip around nothing, fumbling for the card before you finally caught it in your hold and pulled it out. Eyeing it front and back as it twirled between your fingertips to flip over the thin cardboard.

She’ll understand. You’ll just let her know you’d be out to make some money for a bit.

After all, that was in fact what you’d be doing.

You dragged your free hand over the bedside table as well, reaching for your phone as it illuminated your face bright under the shrouded covers. The musk air cautiously entering your nostrils with each nervous, drawn out breath you took in as you slowly punched in the phone number on the back of the card. Simply being met with the eternal hum of the dial tone hanging in the air with each howl of wind that passed by outside.

—

You were hallucinating.

Hallucinations had to be the only explanation.

Because there was no way she was here too. Leaning against the steel propping up the bleak rectangle mattresses arrayed in organized bunks, clad in the familar teal tracksuit everyone else was dressed in. Her eyes fixed on the strange masked men trudging forth on the hitched stage elevated a smidge higher than the floor you stood on, hooded in hot pink.

Their words in a filtered, monotone voice cut through the air among the crowd of people piled in uniform, grouped up in a way akin to a shady organization tucked away from the outside. You couldn’t care less about the explanations spewing out through the thin holes of their masks, huffing out in a near robotic voice to which everyone else had paid attention to in an almost hypnotic trance cast unto them.

Not you. You were too focused on the familar face swimming in the crowd as she peeked over the heads of others to catch sight of what was going on, hands toying with her sleeves as they were knit together below her chest. It was Hyun-ju. Surely. You knew her features too well to mistake someone else for her, from her curtains of silky hair falling past her jaw down to the sharp outline of her nose peeking out at her side.

The irrelevant noise merely echoed in your skull until they had halted their talk, your eyes never leaving Hyun-ju as her wrist flicked out with the pen in her grasp, signing the waiver consenting to god knows what would happen to gain money in this sketchy game.

Clearing your throat, you walked over at a sluggish pace…or that’s what it seemed as your foot lugged forward with each step you took. Fear crawling within you as a priority concern for her rather than reprimanding her, considering her safety was in fact all you sought. Hyun-ju on the other hand was blissfully unaware of your frustrated presence drawing in closer to her, expression twisted in a flurry of emotion you couldn’t comprehend yourself.

“Hyun-ju. What the hell?”

Your voice was enough to snap her out of her idle daydream, whipping her head around in shock as she acknowledged that her own girlfriend was in fact side by side with her in the hellhole of depth consuming the two of you. Drowning in a sea of crooks and those who have done no wrong both, eyes wide as she took in you standing upright directly in front of her, arms folded across your chest over the loose jacket of the tracksuit sticking out.

Hyun-ju only swallowed back the shame bubbling up within her the moment you had seen her like this, pursing her lips at the realization of her girlfriend finding out she was in such a desperate state dawning upon her. In a sense that stung her all over, despite the lack of obligation nudging her rationality. She didn’t owe you an explanation, nor did she have to tell you that her debt started to pile up. Yet the prospect of lying through her teeth while smiling in front of you, keeping secrets from the woman she adored with all her heart. Well, she couldn’t help but be pained by the idea alone.

You just kept your eyes on her, roaming over her in the supposed shame that she exhibited while her knuckles outlined against her hand clutching the steel of the bedframe as she refused to meet your gaze. Eyes averted elsewhere and rolling across every inch of the enclosure. Anywhere but you. She couldn’t bear the sight of you potentially losing your trust or harboring any sort of disappointment toward her—quite ironic as to how a woman so strong crumbled at something so trivial.

She entrusted you with her heart as you had done vice versa, the sigh escaping your lips serving as her kryptonite that Hyun-ju braced for as she tucked her hair behind her ear, creasing the strands lined over her forehead.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want you to worry.”

You groaned, hand dragging over your face in resignation at her response. How could she possibly still think of you in a moment like this? When she was clearly suffering her mind remained fixated on you, and you only, her concerns shifting to your wellbeing.

Fuck, you didn’t deserve someone like her.

But that still refused to quench the inquisitive frustrations that ran wild within you, shifting gears on whether to be mad at her for getting into this situation, or console her at her side at ease. Vowing to stay beside her for these so called games as you would normally, sticking by her side to get through everything and just go home.

Honestly, you just wanted to get it over with and go home. All of a sudden you cherished the shadows of the past, the memory of laying in bed beside Hyun-ju as her arm draped over you and pulled you to her chest, face buried in your hair having been something you should’ve savored for a little longer. Now you wanted nothing more than to just go back to that.

“Is this about your surgeries and the Thailand move we scheduled? Hyun-ju I told you I’d pay for—!”

“You couldn’t. After all you’re here too.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as her hold rested on your shoulder, thumbing over the fabric of the jacket’s white strip running down the split center of your arm.

“(Name). I saw the notices. And the letters from them.” she added, palm creeping up along your neck to cradle your cheek in her grasp. You wanted to tear away from her, retorting that those were your problems alone…but you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything but weakly lean into the familar cusp of her hand brushing over your skin, your own hand rested over hers.

“…I know.”

“Don’t worry. Just stay with me, okay? We’ll be alright. I promise.”

You nodded, eyes flitting up to meet hers. After all, they were just ‘games,’ how bad could they be?

—

Awful.

The games were downright awful. Horrific in a brutal manner that stripped your sanity from the inside out, peeling at your humanity as it ate away at you in constant reminders surrounding you of the blood money hovering in the air. Piled in heaps of cash pooling up in the giant piggy bank brimmed with won. The rusty, metallic scent of blood clung to you every corner you turned, drying out your throat with a retch whenever it dried up on the once untouched fabric of your tracksuit.

Thankfully, Hyun-ju was the only pillar of stability you had latched onto, breaths heavy as you buried your face into the crook of her neck during the night at whenever your inability to fall asleep caught up to you. She wasn’t doing any better in this hellhole, you could tell from the occasional quiver of her voice coming through, along with the way she gripped onto equally as tight when you both shared the same bed. Squeezing you against her like a vice at the fear of losing you once she awoke.

The ghosts of those who had been weeded out hung heavy in the air, adding to the already unsettling atmosphere of nauseating reality blanketing the once lively room where everyone would fuss over little things. Even after the deaths of several, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was now.

Though, it settled into a grim silence of apprehension in the rotted fruits of player 456’s labor. Seong Gi-hun’s failed rebellion haunting him like the oppressive clamps of agony tearing away his efforts, all he knew disappearing in the blink of an eye as it faded alongside his tiny flame of hope that died out.

You hesitantly peered over your bunk at the sight of the older man slumped against the steel, knees bent up as his head hung slack without a thought racing through his head within his confines. Shackled in a cuff against the frame as a flick of dried red streaked down his forehead, accompanying the utterly lifeless look harbored in his eyes as he stared down at nothing.

“(Name)..? What are you doing up so late?”

Looking down at Hyun-ju beside you, rubbing her eye, you sighed. Plopping back down on the miniscule room left for the two of you on the beds meant for only one person, hugged in the blanket barely covering your bodies as you kept yourself pressed flush against Hyun-ju’s muscular frame.

“Nothing. It’s just hard to sleep.”

She craned an arm over your back instinctively, hugging you further against her chest even if it wasn’t possible. To which you leaned forward into her in response, savoring the warmth of your girlfriend being a soothing comfort you craved, her hand holding yours as she pulled you away from the pits of hell threatening to swallow you whole.

Your content ease had curdled away in the wake of the rebellion incited. Magazines littered over the bloodstained floor alongside the flat bodies of X’s laying dead on the floor—courtesy of the O’s lacerating them open in a series of wounds carved into them. Clearly they’d taken their time killing them, like some sort of sick psychos, as if they’d enjoyed the thrill of driving a sharpened object into someone. Like a hobby that heightened the rush of dopamine within them.

Yet your stomach churned at the sight of Hyun-ju armed with the submachine gun held above her waist, instructing the others on how to use it as she headed into the narrow halls armed with guards. The ring of gunshots nearly made your heart stop, lower lip quavering at the idea of Hyun-ju’s safety wavering in the back of your mind, pulling you apart at the seams at the possibility of her not making it.

Mouth running dry at each shot fired in slow motion at the growing ache within you as you let alone imagined her body placed in one of those black coffins resembling a present. Her death sealed in something similar to a gift as crossed pink ribbons crowned the lid of the box. However, you fell back in relief when Hyun-ju ran back unscathed, dotted in splatters of blood over her cheek to collect the much needed magazines which determined the fate of the rebellion. Ultimately unsuccessful as they were deprived of ammo.

Geum-ja might as well be an angel that guarded your lover, as well as prevented your chest from twisting apart upon noticing how she halted Hyun-ju from heading back into the battle. Emphasizing on the value of her life to be kept alive as Hyun-ju shrunk back down behind the bunks, staring over at the footsteps of guards stomping forward and firing into the air to cease the madness that ensued.

Tipping your head forward against her shoulder, you took in her intoxicating scent clouding your throat, face burrowed deep into the skin of her neck as you relished in the raw heat of your lover up against you. She was here. That was all that mattered after all. One more game, and you’d make sure you both got out. The money accumulated should be far more than enough to cover your debts, as well as the surplus of your prizes combined adding up to an amount that supported the upcoming move to Thailand.

“I can’t sleep either if I’m being honest. It was all too much.” Hyun-ju admitted, black nail polish chipping off of her nails as they tapped over your frame cuddled up to her. Shamelessly reaching over to rest on her chest as well, in a seemingly innocent manner, yet she couldn’t help the chuckle that left her as you subconsciously palmed at her breast.

“…not here, (Name). There’s still a bunch of people.”

“Pfft. I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Your hand says otherwise.”

“Now hold on— I didn’t even mean to do that!”

one of the few moments you shared in the games that wasn’t shriveled in the dark, your heart set afire around her in the lighthearted banter you shared with your girlfriend. Grateful all of a sudden to have someone so familar, and so close at your side in the thinning border between life and death morphing into the equivalent of a coin toss. Even in the moments you worried about her safety, blood running cold at the thought of her dying here and you standing alone in nothingness, there was a hint of you forgetting all about the nature of the games. As if you had never left your sanctuary, and held onto her forever.

“Get some sleep. I don’t want you passing out during the next game.”

Your eyelids drooped against her, clutching her shirt in your balled up fist as you dragged her closer to you. If it was even possible, once again.

It was fine. You’d survive. You both would.

And you’d make it out. Start over again. Nothing could tear you away from your beloved.

—

Except the keys clicking at every door.

And the brightly colored knives gripped tight at the winged handles.

Red and blue, darting forth through the thick wood of doors swinging open in the deep blue consuming the maze laid out before you. Gleams of golden stars painted along the walls in the hallway, decorated with pools of bright red seeping into the dust kicking at your feet. You aimlessly wandered around in the dreaded labyrinth of discarded bodies fallen over in blue vests, the horrid stench of death sending you on the verge of kneeling into a corner and vomiting at the sight of freshly dead players.

Your head couldn’t stop spinning, growing dizzy from the disorienting nature of the game as your wobbly legs made their way forward. Grasping the knife tight, your bleary vision was least concerned with the goal of reaping another life. You couldn’t do it. You just couldn’t kill someone so easily, and your mind was kept preoccupied with her. Questioning if she was okay, alive or in danger, or on the verge of death in a gruesome manner smeared in blood.

A scream bellowed across from you in turn, wrecking your train of thought as you looked over. A blue having her guts spilled open by a red who shot you a nasty glare as he ruthlessly cut her open, blood spraying from the wound as his face was proudly adorned in a wash of vermillion. What if that were to happen to her…? You didn’t even want to imagine. Especially considering the player running around batshit crazy, splattered in the red matching his vest all over him as his knife drove into any blue he laid his eyes on. Player 124–Nam-gyu. You wondered if he was high or something.

His giggles irritated you to no end, yet spurred you further to try to find Hyun-ju, despite the clock ticking in its final minutes lowering the pale numbers glowing on the board above. She was the only thing on your mind, and you rushed through the thin halls, yanking open every door and looking inside, before slamming it back shut in the absence of the woman you were looking for.

After what seemed like forever, you had finally kicked down a particular door, revealing a room with a bright blue underwater theme. Adorned in cartoony fish and corals crafted in a paper shape, alongside the large squid at the side of the room as the faint cry of an infant echoed in the room. There she was, your beloved alongside Geum-ja, and Jun-hee, who had evidently given birth. Initially, they had visibly tensed up upon seeing you, red vest draped over your chest and the knife in your hand.

“No— hold on..I won’t do anything. I swear.” you assured them, gaze shifting over to Hyun-ju as you signified you were there for her—and her only.

Stepping over to her weakly, you nearly sobbed as you wrapped your arms around her torso in a gentle embrace, to which she reciprocated. Breath catching in your throat as you hiccuped out in a pathetic display while Hyun-ju rubbed circles along your back.

“I-I’m going to die…I’m gonna die, Hyun-ju—“

“Don’t say that. You’ll be okay. I’ll help you find someone to kill and—“

“I can’t fucking do it!” you cried out, squeezing the knife until your knuckles paled from the intensity.

Hyun-ju swallowed the burning ache that crept into her voice at the inevitable truth that fell within the atmosphere. She looked over at the clock, seconds counting down with each heartbeat passing by in the seemingly quiet room. Your silence alone blocking out the screams from others beyond these painted walls. It was true. There was under a minute and a half left. You’d die, and there was no use in looking for any more hiders, it would be too time consuming to find them, let alone kill them with a struggle.

Lips parting, she uttered something that only worsened the dread lurching in your chest, something you’d never want to hear even on your deathbed.

“…kill me. I can’t bear to see you die.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide and shaky in your erratic state as the knife almost fell from your hands, voice raised in exasperation as if you had heard her say something completely ridiculous. An idea impossible for you to even think of carrying out.

“Hah— are you crazy? No. I’d never.” you spat, breathing heavy in the craze of the clock ticking faster than you thought it was in your perception.

“I’d rather die before seeing you get gunned down.”

“And I’d rather get gunned down than kill you with my own hand!” you screamed, nearly shaking her by the shoulders at your exclamation.

“I love you too much. I don’t ever want the worst for you.”

If it meant giving up herself for you, she’d do it.

She truly did adore you with all her heart.

Thirty five seconds.

Hyun-ju had huddled herself close against you, grasping you tight in a hug that wordlessly spoke volumes about how you set her heart afire. Even at death’s door hovering dangerously close, ready to tear her soul away from what she had hoped to do. Her fingers curled around your wrist, making sure the knife stayed in your hand as you lost yourself in her embrace, washed in supposed peace by the thought that she was allowing you to bask in your final moments.

Forbidden bliss overtook you, followed by the acceptance of the upcoming fire of bullets as you melted in Hyun-ju’s arms, cheek squished to her shoulder. She whispered into your ear once more, fingers threading through your disheveled locks as she held you against her firmly.

“I love you.”

“Do you promise?”

“I do, my love.”

A grisly ring of soaked fabric dribbled down your arm in a warm rush as your eyes shot open, chin immediately lifting from her shoulder at the sodden break of flesh accompanied by Hyun-ju’s shaky gasp for air as her glassy eyes stung with stray tears threatening to prick out. Horrified, you retracted back, eyes landing down at the sight of your wrist held tight by your lover, driving the knife into her solar plexus to take her own life through your hand.

You nearly let out a scream that tore apart your vocal cords at the sight, scrambling away as you tried yanking back your arm, but she kept it lodged into her, refusing to let go as she maneuvered your wrist like the hands of a clock in twist. Further elevating the severity of the wound while her face remained buried in your hair, as she forced you to repeat the dreaded moment of you stabbing her over and over. Until her breath had dwindled down to none, eyes losing any hint of her life as her pulse ran cold, still keeping her kiss that hovered on the top of your head.

“Player 120, eliminated.”

“Player XXX, pass.”

Stepping away from her, your tears strayed down your cheeks freely as your knife clattered to the floor, painted in the crimson secrets of her blood running over the sharp steel. Her life had been torn away, and it was your hand. Body unresponsive and flat on her stomach as streams of vermillion pooled below her, streaming out as your trembling hand reached over to shut her eyes.

You were disgusting.

Cowardice was all you embodied. So much so your lover had to do it for you.

And she was gone.

You would never see her again. Her smile was lost, an opportunity to tuck her hair behind her ear again as you kissed her cheek was gone, an opportunity to wriggle back into her arms as you two slept together was lost. Or even looping your arm in hers during a date and professing your love for her was a distant dream, rather a memory of the past now. Faded and crumbled away.

The love of your life, Cho Hyun-ju, was left deceased by your hand.

And it was all your fault.

—

“Hey what’s wrong with her?”

“Haven’t you heard? She killed her girlfriend in the last game. I think she’s losing it, all huddled up in that corner.”

“Her girlfriend? You mean the chick who used to be a sergeant?”

“Yeah. Player 120.”

“Damn. Must suck. She looks completely destroyed.”

Well, they were right. You finally could fathom what Gi-hun had spiraled into as the dark circles lined beneath your eyes, paired with the stress lines residing in your aimless peripheral vision had been an obvious indication of what everyone heard. You didn’t even know how the hell they found out, and you couldn’t care less. As your hand rested below your nose, palm hovering above your upper lip.

You hated the metallic stench of blood, especially when it dried up in cracks over your dusted skin. It served no purpose other than nauseating you, building up the urge to wash up despite the lack of a shower, other than the sink in the women’s bathroom. But now..you held your hand close to you, drawing in all you had left of her, which was her blood on your hands. You had killed her, so all you could cling to was the reddened streaks of what remained decorating your hands, a reminder of the warmth you could have had.

It was alright. You’d be alright.

You hadn’t even touched your meal, likely awaiting someone to come up to you for seconds of your food you refused to eat. To which you’d dismissively wave a hand, urging them to take it while your shoulders hung low, head slack against your chest as you sat in Hyun-ju’s bed, refusing to let go of her. Left hollow under the grief sinking into the empty crevices of where your heart once was—or maybe it was what was left of your heart.

Hyun-ju made you whole, kept you going through the challenges that dared to step foot in your direction as you shouldered past them with ease while having another shoulder to lean on in your hardships. And now, that whole had eroded away, leaving a crumb of what used to be full.

You were nothing but a void shell of a woman, heavy lidded eyes staring off at something, praying for a easy gate out that would free you from the shackles of your plight gnawing away at the remaining fibers that coursed in your bloodstream, echoing the remnants of her name in a way that prickles droplets of glistening tears at the corners of your eyes.

There were no lies. Just a love so strong that it conjured a fear of losing the other.

Everyone’s gaze only kept on you for under a minute before tearing away to mind their own business. Though you felt as if your every movement was being monitored, down to the twitch of your hands as you quietly breathed out, hoping she’d hear you wherever she was. Even if she wasn’t here, your crooked stare at various parts of the area, or just straight ahead was a means of keeping you occupied. Unsuccessfully so as the tiny murmur rasped out of your lips hoarsely.

“Hyun-ju, my love..I’m sorry…I’ll be there soon. Just please wait for me. I’ll make it up to you..”

A/N: so like…I really didn’t intend on killing hyunju but yall are SOFTIES IM HELPINGGGF im so sorry I love u all I’ll provide any sort of comfort you ask for just request it I feel like I’m torturing yall lately with my squid game fics

It’s ok the more angsty I make my fics the more I love the character and I love love love hyunju my betiful wife sjsjdjdj

AGAIN SORRY IF YALL ARE IN TEARS DONT COME FOR ME

Btw it’s like 2:30 am and I just finished this I don’t wanna hear about no damn typos because I’ll go back and fix them when I feel like it 😭💔

[raevpng]

only you (pt. 2)

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

pt. 1

summary: everyone tunes in when they share a court — paige bueckers and azzi fudd, former team mates, once golden duo, turned wnba rivals. they were the perfect match on court, and no one could deny it. but no one knows what goes on under the surface of competition and rivalry, not even them.

a/n: hey lovelies! in honour of dallas’ win today here’s the second chapter :) idk if i like this but ill edit it when im awake 😭 as always lmk what u think and enjoy <3

there’s a different kind of buzz that you get only after a game is won.

there’s a lazy satisfaction that thrums under your skin, a kind of heavy warmth that settles in your chest and refuses to leave. it’s the payoff. the reward. every late-night gym session, every clean meal, every quiet hour of mental prep finally cashing out into a win. you feel it in your pulse. you feel it in your bones.

and yeah, a little ego boost too.

cause she fucking did it.

azzi fudd beat paige bueckers.

and sure, it wasn’t the first time. definitely wouldn’t be the last. but still. a win’s a win.

and this one? buzzer beater, all eyes watching, three-pointer in her face?

that one deserves a celebration.

and if there’s anything she does well, it’s celebrate.

–

the club was full of bodies, almost as if the world wanted to celebrate with them. the atmosphere was electric, thick with heat and light and bass. bodies press against one another under neon strobes, laughter spilling out over pounding music. drinks are flowing, her teammates were going wild, limbs flailing, voices hoarse from the win and whatever was poured in their shots.

pure chaos, but god she loves it.

she giggled as her teammates reenacted her winning shot, heart warming at how silly her friends were and at the compliments and praises thrown her way.

azzi sat on the high stool near the bar, some fruity vodka in hand, ice clinking softly against the glass as she giggled at some stupid drunken story. her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol or from laughter maybe, braids loosely flowing down her shoulders, cropped top clinging from the warmth of the crowd. she’s loose in a way she rarely allows herself, spine relaxed, shoulders dropped, that tiny smile pulling at her mouth that no one but her closest people ever really gets to see.

aaliyah was perched next to her, long legs crossed as she kept an eye on her best friend while simultaneously getting shit-faced. "this how we party after a win?" she shouts over the music, grinning.

azzi just lifts her glass with a smirk, tilting her head. "damn right."

but then it happens.

just slightly. like a cold breeze slipping in through a cracked door.

somewhere between a sip and a laugh, the energy in the room shifts. subtle – not something you’d notice if you weren’t paying attention.

aaliyah catches it first. her eyes scan the entrance and sure enough, there she is.

standing there, black tee, necklace glinting, arms crossed with a scowl already carved into her face – paige bueckers.

paige and her best friends.

"fucking hell," aaliyah mutters.

azzi doesn’t see her yet. too tipsy, too wrapped up in the buzz of her own victory.

“uh az, wanna get another drink?” aaliyah elbowed her best friend, sensing that whatever the fuck happened on that court was definitely gonna start something if she didn’t do some sort of damage control.

azzi, bless her soul didn’t seem to notice the commotion that they brought in just by appearing.

“hell yeah!” azzi exclaimed, visibly tipsy in the dazed look in her eyes and the heaviness present in her movements.

on the other side of the club, kayla and nika had hurriedly gone to order their first round of drinks, leaving paige to settle in on a booth.

paige doesn't sit so much as she drops. her body is stiff, her jaw tight. she doesn't join in on the laughter. she doesn't look anywhere except across the room.

"oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me," paige mutters, her voice dry, more to herself than anyone else. her friends are laughing and talking around her, but she’s still as stone, eyes locked on the girl at the bar.

because of course she’s here.

because of course she looks like that.

azzi feels it before she sees it.

sees her.

azzi’s head turns. her eyes land on the paige’s.

and whatever it is, maybe the alcohol in pulsing through her veins, or maybe just pure hatred and pettiness. she scoffed before breaking the eye contact.

you wanna look?

go ahead, look.

she let her fingers run through her hair, collecting them on one side to show the expanse of her neck. she moves slowly, as if she knows she has an audience, and leans forward to start a conversation with the guy next to her, laughing softly at his jokes.

it’s calculated. measured. sharp-edged.

paige doesn’t move from her spot, arms still folded tight over her chest, jaw clenched. she watches azzi lean back, lets her head tip, exposes her throat to the crowd and the lights and the man beside her.

it makes something in paige’s chest clench.

because paige? she knows the difference between real and fake. and this? this is azzi performing. dancing. flaunting. and she hates how easily she falls into that rhythm. how effortlessly she makes herself look untouchable.

she knows that she’s moving different now.

more exaggerated. more fluid. hips swinging just a little wider. hands brushing against shoulders, fingers playing with straws in drinks.

she’s performing.

and as some guy with a smirk too deep and hands too brave neared, azzi embraced it. she let him get close, let herself smile in the way she knew reeled others, let her arm rest on his shoulder as his putrid cologne filled her nose.

she was performing, for who – she didn’t know. didn’t want to.

but this feeling? the feeling of paige’s eyes burning on her back and the guy in front of her looking at her almost in a breathless kind of worship?

she hated how much she adored it.

aaliyah watches the whole thing with narrowed eyes, taking another sip of her drink.

she and azzi had been close during their time at uconn. they remained close when she got drafted to mystics first but ultimately got the closest when azzi got drafted to the same team. and yeah, she saw what everyone else saw – that paige and azzi had been so close to mysteriously never speak again.

but she was observant, always was and always will be. and she recognised the pattern of azzi’s excuses and sudden need to leave everytime paige’s name was even mentioned. yeah, it was probably best to stay clear. she had chalked it up to best friend’s drifting, maybe even a fight.

but now? as she sat there watching azzi move her hips against a guy while paige drilled holes at the back of her head?

she wasn’t too sure.

still, azzi was her best friend. and the guy was very quickly becoming bold and handsy.

she walks over to the younger, voice low in azzi’s ear. “you good?”

“i’m great,” azzi says, a little too fast.

aaliyah lifts a brow. “uh huh.”

but azzi is already back to it, swaying into the beat, laughing at something the guy next to her says, fingers tugging playfully at his collar.

and paige?

she hasn’t moved. she still sat stiffly across the room as her friends drank up and flirted with their own guys perched next to them.

and aaliyah didn’t know whether to laugh or be scared at the lack of emotion in her former teammate’s eyes.

the bass gets heavier. the drinks flow faster. the night starts to blur around the edges. and azzi is buzzing.

her head tips back, mouth open in a laugh, that guy’s hand on her waist now. and she lets him. not because she wants to, but because someone’s watching. she can feel the stare on her like a second skin.

but then the guy shifts.

his hand moves a little lower. he leans in too close, breath hot and heavy against her neck. he says something she doesn’t catch, something that makes her face shift in a flash.

aaliyah sees it.

stands up to protest.

and then suddenly.

“yo.”

paige’s voice cuts through the music like a blade. the music doesn’t stop, but it feels like it does. feels like everyone halted. feels like all the air in the room got sucked out.

azzi’s eyes snap up just as paige steps between them, arm sliding out in one clean, practiced motion, pushing the guy’s chest back.

“back off.”

the guy blinks, surprised. then scoffs. “you serious?”

“i said back off,” paige repeats, firmer. she doesn’t even look at him. her eyes are on azzi.

azzi’s breath stutters.

the guy backs up, muttering something under his breath and disappearing into the crowd. paige doesn’t move. doesn’t drop her arm.

“you good?” she asks, voice tight. like she hates even having to say it.

azzi stares at her.

then her expression changes.

eyes harden. lips part. a slow scoff leaves her chest as she takes a step forward — not toward her, but past her — shoulder brushing paige’s arm in a hard, deliberate shove.

“don’t fucking touch me,” she mutters.

paige flinches like she’s been slapped.

azzi keeps walking. doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back. disappears into the crowd, body tense, spine stiff, like the only thing keeping her upright is her rage.

aaliyah stands frozen a few feet away, mouth parted, drink forgotten in her hand.

because damn.

that wasn’t nothing.

that was history unfolding.

–

“paige, you good? what was that?”

paige doesn’t move.

not even when the music swells again, not when the guy disappears into the dark, not even when azzi walks away without looking back.

she just stands there.

chest rising, fists clenched, heart still hammering from whatever the hell just happened.

“paige.”

finally, kayla grabs her shoulder, snapping her out of it.

“what the hell was that about?” her voice is sharp, confused but not surprised. “you looked damn ready to fight that guy.”

“nothing.” paige mutters, eyes now fixed on some random spot on the wall, anywhere but where azzi had just been. “he was being a dick,”

“sure,” kayla says, narrowing her eyes. “but you don’t know him. hell, i thought you didn’t know her that well?”

“don’t need to.”

“be serious. you don’t get in guys’ faces like that for strangers.”

that gets paige’s attention.

her head jerks toward kayla. “she isn’t-” she stops. “it wasn’t a big deal.”

kayla’s brows lift. “uh-huh.”

the rest of the crew starts to gather near the exit, talking about calling it a night. a few throw glances paige’s way — some confused, some amused — but no one says anything out loud. not yet.

someone makes a joke about how paige’s ‘hero complex’ is back.

“you get one buzzer-beater hit on you and you’re back to being in your feelings,” someone teases with a laugh.

paige doesn’t laugh.

she grabs her jacket off the back of the booth and shrugs it on with a grunt, brushing past them toward the door.

“fuck her,” she mumbles under her breath. “bitch acts like she didn’t- whatever.”

“what’d you say?” kayla asks from behind, trying to catch up.

“nothing,” paige mutters again, brushing her fingers through her ponytail as they step out into the cold night air.

the temperature hits instantly — sharp, biting. the kind of cold that finds its way past clothes and into bone. it’s late. the street is mostly empty, cars rolling past slow, bass from the club muffled behind the door now swinging shut.

her friends start peeling off. one calling an uber, two others heading toward their parked car down the block.

paige walks toward hers, head low, keys already in her hand.

until she sees her.

azzi.

standing alone near the curb, phone in hand, thumb swiping across the screen, teeth biting into her bottom lip like she’s too tired to be pissed but too pissed to let it show.

and paige pretends she doesn’t stare at the action for a second too long.

she’s wearing a tiny leather jacket that’s clearly not built for this weather, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders tense. her breath clouds the air in front of her. she looks miserable.

walk away paige. you’ve done enough bullshit for one night

“you waiting for a ride or hoping the cold finishes you off first?” paige calls out.

damn it.

azzi doesn’t even look up. she knows that voice. “oh, fuck off.”

“you’re welcome,” paige mutters, already stepping closer.

azzi sighs and finally lifts her head. “you stupid? i said, fuck off.”

“yeah, you did,” paige says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, eyes flicking to the street. “and yet, still no ride.”

“my uber’s coming.”

“your phone’s dead.”

“lili’s picking me up”

azzi glares. paige stays.

she mutters something under her breath that paige can’t catch.

paige steps closer, standing just a little too near to be comfortable. azzi physically flinches.

“don’t be stubborn. get in. i’ll drive you.”

azzi scoffs full on, like it physically disgusted her. “i’d genuinely rather die in this cold than get in the car with you.”

“great,” paige says dryly, stepping around her and opening the passenger door anyway. “you can freeze your ass off and die dramatically. or you can take a ten-minute drive in silence.”

azzi doesn’t move.

“azzi fudd, age twenty-seven, dies outside bar because she’s fucking stupid.”

“kill yourself.” azzi rolled her eyes, standing up to walk away.

paige grabs her arm, halting her actions.

“fine, sorry. i’ll shut up. i’ll drive, won’t even look at you.”

“paige bueckers apologizing? that’s new.” azzi scoffed, the words bringing a sharp pain to the blonde’s chest.

“az.”

the nickname slips out before she can stop it.

azzi’s eyes flash.

yet she doesn’t yell, doesn’t roll her eyes.

instead, she exhales.

long. slow. tired.

“don’t call me that.”

but she climbs into the passenger seat without another word, slamming the door a little harder than necessary.

paige rolls her eyes, walks around, starts the car.

the heater kicks in with a low hum, and they sit in silence, headlights cutting through the empty road ahead.

no questions on where to go, what street to pull into.

for a moment, the only sound is the gentle drum of azzi’s fingers on her knee.

paige sneaks a glance.

azzi’s staring out the window. her lashes are heavy. her expression unreadable.

paige’s knuckles tighten on the wheel.

“seatbelt,” she mutters.

azzi clicks it in without a word.

and they drive.

not a sound exchanged. not a glance shared. just the two of them and the hum of the engine.

because that’s what they are now.

and when they pull up in front of azzi’s apartment, she unbuckles the seatbelt and leaves with a slam of the door.

paige just drives.

pretends like it didn’t bother her.

–

the door clicks shut behind her with a sound too loud for her apartment.

the silence that greets her is deafening — a stark contrast to the pounding music and heat of the club. here, everything is still. too still. her boots echo across the hardwood as she walks further in.

azzi sighs, ignoring the echo in the quiet space around her as she tries to ground herself. the thoughts were too loud, the mess in her head were too messy, her heartbeat in her ears doing nothing to ground her.

warm yellow light spills across the room, as she turned on a lamp. soft and muted, catching on framed photos and trophies and jerseys. reminders. shadows of all the versions of her that used to exist.

god, she wishes life was still that simple.

she walks past a framed photo of the uconn team — paige’s senior year, azzi under her arm as she looked at her like she hung the stars.

back when she still cared.

she slams it face down as she walks by, fishing out her phone as she plops shakily down her couch. jacket thrown hastily over the other side, boots dropped on the floor beside her. she ignored the nagging in her head to clean. couldn’t care enough to actually get up.

her shoulders drop as she sits on the edge of the couch, eyes fixed on nothing, hands idle in her lap.

everything catches up to her all at once.

the win. the shots. the heat. the moment she turned her head and saw her.

her chest feels too tight.

and fuck, she hates that. hates her.

because it should’ve been over. it was over. they made sure of that.

she leans forward, elbows to knees, hands covering her face.

fuck, azzi. get it together.

she groans, dropping her head lower into her hands, letting her fingers push against her scalp like she can physically shove the memories out.

and without thinking, without really deciding, she grabs her phone from her purse, screen lighting up her tired face, and taps the contact already burned into muscle memory.

it barely rings three times before she picks up, grogginess evident in her voice.

“azzi? you okay?”

azzi swallows. her voice is small. “caroline, can you talk?”

there was only the sound of sheets rustling for a beat, caroline sitting up azzi assumes.

“yeah always, what’s wrong?”

azzi presses her lips together, doesn’t know where to start. doesn’t even really want to talk about it. but something in her chest is too full, and she knows if she doesn’t let a little bit of it out, it’ll tear her open.

“i saw her tonight,” she says finally.

caroline doesn’t ask who. doesn’t need to.

“at the club,” azzi adds, eyes glued to the floor. “she was there. with her friends. and i was just- i don’t even know, i was fine, i was celebrating and then suddenly she’s-” her voice cracks. “she was right beside me pushing off some guy.”

silence.

“and i don’t know what’s wrong with me because i shouldn’t care, right?” azzi continues, “this is some stupid shit that happened – what? five years ago?”

caroline only hums, silent but clearly listening.

“and she means nothing to me now. she does.”

“az…”

“no really. i don’t give a shift about her, or what she does, or who she thinks she is.”

“okay.” caroline says softly, almost like a parent gently parenting a child.

azzi leans back on the couch, lets her head fall against the cushion. she blinks hard at the ceiling, like if she stares long enough, the confusion might evaporate.

“azzi, i need you to be honest. do you think she misses you?”

the second the words left her mouth, azzi couldn’t stop the bark of laughter from escaping her lips.

“hell no.”

“azzi.”

“no, caroline. she hates me. probably just wanted to get back at me for beating her tonight.”

caroline doesn’t say anything.

“whatever,” azzi mutters, suddenly tired of the whole conversation. “i don’t care what she feels.”

“you sure?”

azzi only hums, drawing a sigh from her friend.

“well, you know i’m always here for whatever you need, right?”

azzi softens at the words, feeling like she can finally breathe for the first time for the night. “yeah, thanks caroline. for everything.”

“always.”

and then she ends the call.

the screen goes black again. her reflection stares back — eyes glassy, jaw tight.

she sinks further into the couch cushions, lets the silence take her again.

you’re better than this, she thought to herself.

“i’m not doing this shit again.” she said out loud, standing up to walk to her bedroom almost with a new burst of energy.

cause azzi was better than paige. she has to be.

and as she changes to her favourite tee and boxers, shuts the light and lets herself drift. lets herself forget, lets herself rest.

and as she drifts to sleep, thoughts finally quieting, she doesn’t notice the new notification lighting up her phone.

paige bueckers has started to follow you.

[respondedinkind]

Plotted starter for @mehrere-musen | MCU Verse

When Ka'anh awakes, the first thing he sees is a planet, filled with blue and greens and browns, clouds scattered along the surface. He also realizes that the whole of his shuttle seems to be offline; No lights are on besides the dull red hue of what indicates an emergency situation. He hurts, badly so, and groans out in pain as he tries to get back onto his feet, tries to---

The shuttle's pulled toward the planet, he realizes, just as he tries to reach a few buttons with his bloody fingers. He can't even stand, he just lies there, with his upper half resting against the seat, arm outstretched in an attempt to fix what could be broken. Ka'anh hisses, bares his teeth, grunts as another wave of pain pushes through him while he tries to stand again - but then the shuttle shakes; Gravitation has finally wrapped itself around his vessel in full, and now the descent upon the foreign planet is sped up with each second that passes.

This will become a hell of a ride, he knows. There's nothing he can do besides holding onto something, pushing himself against a nearby wall, away from anything that could fall down onto him as the shuttle proceeds to fly through the thick atmosphere. It's probably getting too hot as well, with all the shields being offline, unable to protect the shell from the rough treatment of the sudden friction it receives.

The fall itself sends a stomach tumbling and Ka'anh grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that it will soon be over and that he will survive the impact thats about to come.

He doesn't want to die like this. Not after having managed to flee from his own planet, then getting sucked into what had looked like an opening within the Universe itself, just to be thrown down onto another world he's unfamilair with---

He's afraid, that's the last thing he feels before everything becomes dark and his senses vanish from existence, together with his consciousness.

...

When he awakes again, he's unsure if he's even alive, still.

He's lying on his stomach, outside of his shuttle, with his face buried in dry soil; With every intake of air he inhales some of it, which causes Ka'anh to cough and gasp for oxygen, so he does, almost dry-heaving from the pain it causes him.

He blinks, lifts his head somewhat and looks at a blurry picture in front of him - a mass of gray, perhaps it's his shuttle, parts of it burning and smoke rising into the air. He cannot see clearly, he doesn't hear much, and the pain he's in is excruciating. He's surely broken his right leg, his hip even, because he cannot feel it - his rattling breath tells him at least one broken rip has broken the tissue of his lung, and judged by how dizzy he feels, he must be suffering from what could be a rather serious brain-injury.

But, Ka'anh's alive. he's still here, even though he's just crashed down onto this foreign planet.

A grunt leaves him and he closes his eyes, then inhales as much as he can before he tries to push himself up onto all-fours. There's blood soaked into the dirt beneath him and one of his arms is definitely broken, next to the right leg that won't cooperate... but somehow he keeps himself in this all-fours-position, swallowing down the taste of copper and nausea he feels.

Fuck. Fuck - he needs to get to his shuttle, find the medkit in there---...

[r3ynah]

What's wrong with clones? what's wrong with me?

Dani was greatful for her mom, she was greatful that he was supportive and living when she first met him, and even after the fight she was happy that Danny didn't throw her away with hatred in his eyes, she would've understand it nonetheless, just imagine someone assaulting your DNA to make a copy of you? it was traumatizing or the both parties, based on experience.

But if it wasn't for Danny, she wouldn't be here at this place were she stands. It has been about 20 years since she was born, and her mom step backed from heroism and passed it down to her which she accepted with pride. Her mom deserves a break.

And without her she wouldn't be part of the Justice League, and wouldn't be meeting all this amazing people, they have loved dani and took care of her ever since she joined. and she was happy. what more could she ask for? well she was a bit lonely afterall.. and that was selfish of her, she already have her mom, her friends, what else could she even ask for?

__

Dani, Hero name Wraith, walked down the halls of the watchtower when she heard a ruckus in one of the meeting rooms, letting her curiosity get the best of her she took a peek in the room, where she found a bunch of Heroes surrounding a boy that looks a little too much like Superman. and Superman in the corner holding his head in stress? Agony? Dani doesn't know.

She stepped into the room, only for Wonder woman to notice her, She gave Dani a wave which she returned with a smile, she moved near Wonder woman in curiosity and asked: "What's going on? why's the Adults surrounding a kid?"

Wonder woman looked at her with a stare she didn't understand, before she answered. "He's a clone of Superman, we found him trying to kill the man, just last week, and this is the first time he's let out." She explained while pointing at the kid.

Dani let out a gasp of delight, "Really? Holy shit. I got to talk to the kid!" Before Diana could stop the girl she was already at the new clone's side, pushing the other heroes away.

The Clone angrly stared at the new person, infront of him. "What you'll interrogate me too?."

"What? Why would you think that?" Dani giggled as she circled the boy, her eyes darting back and forward to superman and the boy to see the similarities. "Ancients, you really look like Superman, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean by that?" The kid asked very confused.

"I mean you're healthy and fine, i don't get why the league is going haywire towards you." Wraith chuckled, as she floated upside down infront of the kid.

Silence embraced the room, as the sound of a steel chair echoed throughout the room.

"Didn't you hear what Wonder Woman said Wraith?" Superman walked big steps towards the two making other heroes take a step back, from the man of steel. "It's a clone."

"okay, Okay, Wait i feel i said something wrong?" Dani returned to her normal position, making sure she's not levitating upside anymore as she looked at older man infront of her in confusion. "What's the problem here?"

The room was quiet huh that was unusual with, there was a thick atmosphere that you can cut it with a knife.

"The problem? This is the problem." Superman angrily stated as he pointed at the kid, who looked ready to fight the man infront of him any second now.

"What? superman i don't get its just a clone and a child-" Wraith was cut off rudely. by the man infront of him.

"Ofcourse you don't get it, you don't get how it feels to be cloned, you don't get how traumatizing it is for your DNA to be stolen, That is not a child." Superman snapped, making Dani take a step back. "So stop acting like its a normal kid, that thing will never be like us, because its a mistake created by some lousy villain, who tried to stop and kill me, clones don't deserve love nor respect, and they certainly don't deserve families. Now Stop acting like you get it."

Silence, surrounded the room as Superman finished letting his anger out at Wraith who stared at him wide eyed confusion seen her face, she looked at her peers who only looked apologetic and those who looked down the floor and then there was batman

she shifted her gaze towards the, boy who she can see was trembling, The boy was crying. oh no. no. please don't cry.

"I get it." Wraith stated, keeping her ground, only babies cry she wasn't a baby now, she grew out of that phase.

She returned her gaze back at Superman who still was looking at her. it really looked like he didn't mean to snap at her. But that shit Hurt who knew he had it him, is this what Danny felt when he found out about her, was he in reality sick of her? no. No. Danny loved her, he said so himself.

"Wraith please no-" Wonder woman, called out trying not to get the girl in more trouble.

"No. I get it. I'm really sorry for you Superman, and how you got traumatized by some of your DNA getting stollen, I am really. But with all due respect you can't treat him like a thing, because he's a clone." Wraith spoke back, now more confident than ever. the kid perked up from this and raised his head, he was really crying.

"And what do you know about that? Wraith." Oh no Hero names, She knew she struck a nerve, Superman was back at being angry.

"What I know, is that you're right, clones don't deserve love and respect, clones don't deserve anyone because all they do is hurt and destroy." For a second everyone thought Wraith changed sides. Wraith glared at superman, he wanted her to agree with him, oh she'll agree with him alright. "Clones like me, don't deserve anything."

"What?"

Everyone in the room was shocked but to scared to speak, afraid to start something.

"Thank you, Superman. For showing me that I didn't deserve my mom, Because to be honest you're fucking right, all I did for my mom was pain and agony." Dani was now raising her voice, at the man infront of her.

"You're a clone?" Superman managed to ask, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

"Hell yeah, And you know what age he got me. Fourteen, He became my mom at the age of fourteen, he took care of me at the age of fourteen, he loved me like his own daughter at the age of fourteen" Wraith laughed out loud, tears threatening to stream down her face. "You know what's funny superman? I tried to also murder him, I tried to also kill my template. And yet he took me in, and said that it wasn't my fault. it wasn't my fault that i was born, It was never my fault, he comforted me as i cried to him about my other brothers who i watched slowly die and melt apart infront of my eyes, he didn't hate, he didn't isolate, he only loved and cared."

Wraith was now crying. as she gritted her teeth.

"Wrait-"

"you we're right. I didn't deserve my mom. if he had just killed me from the start, he would've been more happy and not worry about me, My mom is the kindest being in the world in my own eyes, and he'd done everything for me ever since he was fourteen." Dani looked down at the ground, with clenched hands. "I was born as a six years old, but in reality i was only two months old. it's funny how im the same age right now when my mom first had me. My body maybe 20, but my brain is 14, keep that in mind Superman."

She looked around her peers, but couldn't see anyone but her reflection in those glass walls, she's crying, she didn't want to cry. "You've been hating on that kid, but Superman let me remind you that kid." She looked at the child who was still sitting on the chair but now with a look of confusion, eyes red from crying. "Is only a few months old despite its physical appearance, you've been hating on a newborn baby, like a deadbeat dad, and that's just sad."

Dani can hear a snort in the background. She swore that sounded like her mom.

Superman looked defeated and guilty, Dani was tired she wanted to cry, in the arms of her mom, but she can't leave the other kid here, so she made a rash decision. "If you don't want him, I'll take him."

Protest engulfed the meeting room, but Dani didn't care, she passed Superman and headed towards the black haired kids, direction. "Wanna come with me?" she asked, while having her hand out for him to take.

The kid looked at her hand, before grabbing it. Dani smiled and summoned a portal, she took the kid with her, her mother's not gonna like this and she might take a break from JL a couple of months, Oh well its all worth it.

[hellomissella]

obedience

explicitly nsfw: submissive simon riley, gender neutral reader, soft-dom reader, male masturbation/JOI, orgasm denial, implied cum-eating

another submissive!simon riley ficlet because apparently that's who i am now:

your shared bedroom is dim.

he finds it a little silly that you never use the overhead lights. "the lights are too harsh," you tell him each time. the warm lights are much more inviting, much more atmospheric. those same lights are infinitely more flattering as they surround simon, who stands in front of you, standing at ease.

his eyes never leave yours as his regulates his breath, but his heart nonetheless pounds hard and heavy like a war drum just by the way you look at him.

god, he adores you.

your voice is always even and steady and you give him permission to use one hand to undo his belt. unzip his jeans. he's already painfully hard, and you haven't even touched him.

he doesn't look away once.

"show me how you stroke your cock when i'm not with you," you tell him. "when you think of me."

he starts off slow, his wrist twisting while his hand moves up and down fully, paying careful attention to his tip. his breathing gets heavier. his eyes start to close. his jaw slacks and he tries to fight off moaning too loud, too quickly—

"eyes on me, puppy."

his lidded eyes snap back to you as he nods.

"yes, my love."

he watches as you, sitting on the foot of the bed, as you lean back with a playful smile on your face, like you're looking at a work of art.

soon, he's panting. he begins to tremble as his orgasm grows close, and his brows furrow in both focus and desperation. he can't stop the breathy moans now; his hips begin to snap forward, trying to fuck his own hand as he watches you watch him.

"please," he sputters, "may i cum?"

your gorgeous smile — the one that doesn't just light up your face, but your whole being — doesn't fade. "no," you tell him.

he nods, accepting your decision without question. he continues to stroke his cock for you but his moans are now being accompanied with whines and whimpers. he can't help it; he wants to be good but you're just sitting there and he wants to make love to you; he wants to make you cry out in pleasure and wants to hear your praises and words of adoration.

"my love..." simon whines, almost a whisper. "i'm so close."

you raise an eyebrow. you're not going to carelessly throw permission around. he needs to earn that orgasm.

"please, love, may i cum?"

"no."

oh, you could laugh at how loud he whimpers, his abdomen stuttering as he breathes loudly through his nose. he's trembling now and he tries to readjust his footing, as if it'll help him prevent cumming without your permission.

"darling, please—"

"no."

it almost burns as he strokes over his tip and he doesn't bother holding back any of the sinful noises coming out of his mouth anymore. all of it belongs to you, anyway. he groans, curses, cries. all futile attempts to keep his orgasm at bay.

"simon," you then coo, your smile all too playful for his liking right now. "i love you. you look so good for me right now..."

"please..." he whispers. "don't, or i'm gonna cum."

"aww," you chuckle. he doesn't miss the condescension in your voice. "such a good puppy, listening to me. i love hearing you. i love watching you. i love it when you feel good—"

"love!" he groans between his teeth. "please..."

he knows what you're doing, you cheeky minx: trying to get him to cum before you even give him permission to finish. his breath quivers and he pleads again for you to let him cum.

"i can't..." he whines, his voice higher pitched. "love, please... i'm gonna cum. i can't stop. please, can i—"

you shake your head and simon could cry.

"don't you wanna make me proud?" you tease. "i know you're a good boy, puppy. i know you can prove it to me."

"fuck, i can't— i'm gonna cum..."

simon groans as he cums, thick ropes splattering onto the hardwood floor as he closes his eyes and curses profusely, his hips thrusting to chase his hand. by the time he's coming down from his high, his chest heaves and his heart beats wildly like it's trying to break out and run to you.

when he finally looks up, he sees you shaking your head in playful disapproval.

"i'm sorry," he pants. "i'm sorry."

you just smile.

"get on your knees," you instruct, and he does so immediately. "clean up the mess you've made. then we can start on your punishment for breaking the rules."

simon nods, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he positions himself on his hands and knees. his eyes lock with yours. and with his tongue, he begins to clean up the mess he made all over the floor.

"yes, my love."

check out my other fics

[jennelikejennay]

I know this is basically heresy to the Spock fandom. I know a lot of people will disagree, and fics will continue to do things exactly the way they always have. But I must speak my truth.

Spock is not green.

Spock's blood is green but his skin is best described as sallow. Pale with a yellow undertone.

Likewise humans are not honestly all that pink (no matter what Shran says). But we are more pink than Spock is green. We have a pink undertone, but Spock's undertone is yellow.

I've thought it over: the colors of human blood, with and without oxygen; the colors of copper, oxidized and not; the color of the copper-based blood of horseshoe crabs; the optical qualities of human skin. And I offer an explanation.

If you have a lightish skin tone and you flip your forearm over, you'll see blue veins. Which is why you probably grew up thinking unoxygenated blood is blue. It's actually not; it's purple.

What we're seeing is a scattering effect. You know how the sun shines in the atmosphere, and most of the color comes straight through just fine, but the blue covers the whole sky instead of coming straight down with the rest of the sunlight? That's because our atmosphere lets the other colors straight through (the warm white of the sun as seen from Earth) but scatters blue, making it seem like it's coming from everywhere.

Human skin does the same thing to red. While blue comes straight through, as if the skin were transparent, showing clear-edged veins, red is scattered. You won't see your arteries. Instead you see a pink cast that seems to be coming from everywhere.

Importantly, which colors show through and which are scattered has nothing to do with our blood, and everything to do with the optical properties of our skin.

Back to Spock. Oxidized, his blood is grass green. Which is kind of odd when you think about it. Horseshoe crabs have copper-based blood, and it's blue. When it doesn't have oxygen in it, it's pretty much colorless.

And this is the color of oxidized copper. I wouldn't call it grass green. The proper word is verdigris.

So for Spock's blood to be grass green, there's probably something yellow in it. The plasma, or the white blood cells, or whatever.

Unoxygenated, copper is ... well, copper-colored. Orangey-brown. I'm not sure if it's possible for anyone's blood to ever get fully unoxygenated—cells just aren't that efficient. But if we assume Spock's blood is less green and more orange when unoxygenated, we might expect a yellowish-brown, yellow being the only color in both green and copper.

So we just have to assume Spock's skin has optical qualities which allow yellow through more than green or brown. The yellow is scattered, while visible blood vessels (if Spock has any) might be green or brown.

Yes, I'm arguing that Spock blushes yellowish. His ordinary skin tone would darken. You wouldn't have a whole new color showing up.

None of this implies that Spock's mucus membranes (tongue, gums, internal parts of genitals such as a sheathed penis) wouldn't be green. Without the thick, protective Vulcan skin, a lot more would show through.

I'm just saying, Spock looks pale-to-yellow on the show and I'm okay with that. I think science can justify it. (Alternatively, as SPOCKNALIA argues, Vulcan skin is too thick to show much through it, and the yellow tone is Vulcan melanin.)

However, I may still continue to have Spock blush green just for art's sake, and you can too. The only law of fanfic is that your canon is whatever you say it is.

[macsimagines]

YANDERE!SHINICHIRO SANO ONE NIGHT STAND

ok so here it is. I hope it's ok I'm kinda iffy about it let me know what you all think!! this is worst timeline btw!!!

MINORS DNIWARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ONE NIGHT STAND, SPANKING AND DRINKING

You had no idea what you were even doing with your life. Late at night, in a run down jazz bar, you found yourself sitting on a stool sipping a cocktail all by yourself.

The piano on stage skillfully played a tune that was just pleasant enough for you to feel yourself to start to ease slightly. Maybe the drinks and bar itself weren't anything special, but at least there was music.

"Tastes like shit," a somber voice says to your side. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet a dark pair. Two onyx eyes that seemed to only reflect abyss.

Maybe on a different day you would have just ignored him, but tonight? You were feeling brave.

"What's wrong with it?" you inquire, suddenly finding the stranger fascinating. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark soul. You think you may have a type.

His eyes barely lift from his glass, a dark liquid swirling with his ice, "It's bitter." He answer plainly. Maybe his monotone response should make you reconsider trying to spark a connection...but something about his voice...

"It's... bourbon, right? You should've gotten a cocktail if you wanted something sweeter," you purr, pushing your own glass toward him, "Wanna taste mine?"

Finally, his eyes fully meet yours and something in the way that they analyze you has a shiver running across your skin. He's handsome, pretty even, and you find yourself feeling just a little hot under his intense stare.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. There's the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he's sliding his hand, purposefully brushing your fingertips, and taking the glass from you. Your eyes never break contact as he brings the glass to his lips, his tongue licking at the sugar coated rim first.

You can feel your thighs clench at the erotic image this stranger makes. Something inside of you aching with a sudden need. "Well?" you say, scooting in closer, "Better?"

"Dunno," the man says leaning in closer, "I'm in the mood for somethin' much sweeter." You feel a rough hand come up and firmly squeeze your thigh.

Maybe its the alcohol, the atmosphere, or those gorgeous void like eyes of his, but you find yourself checking into a hotel with that stranger. Yes. Stranger.

His name doesn't matter, what he does for a living or why he's in this part of town. The only thing that matters is how good his hands feel around your throat and inside your aching pussy.

You don't care about all his tattoos or the fact that their was a danger slowly growing in those perfect eyes of his. A strange sort of obsession?

Tonight, you don't fight. When his hand cracks down hard against your ass, you moan and beg for more. When he makes you kiss him and devours every sound you try to make. And not even when he's plunging deep into you and pounding like a man going for broke.

As you start to see stars and get light headed, you allow this man, a man whose name you didn't even care to know, to have his sick and depraved way with you.

"Be my good-girl," he purrs a rough hand coming to wrap around your neck, "Stick out your tongue for me." You end up mindlessly doing as he says, so eager to please. And your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick girth when he meets it with his own.

Shamefully, you're just moaning when you fill him cum inside you, loving the feeling. And finally the man stops his constant praise of 'Good girl, perfect woman, mine so fucking mine,' to look you in the eyes again.

There's something different about them. Almost child like and wide. There is the smallest light in them and through the haze of your orgasm you swear there was something else...

But you're so spent and exhausted that you end up passing out in his arms. You're sure it won't matter in the morning, either one of you will be gone. Right?

You're surprised to find him still sleeping soundly next to you. You can't believe your good luck when you find he was as beautiful as you had remembered him being. The pleasant soreness of your body also told you that the sex hadn't just been the greatest wet dream of your life.

Its a shame you have to go. You two might actually be compatible, but something like that just didn't work out for you. Maybe if things were different... No. You won't let yourself fall for some stranger.

You're trying to get yourself dressed and out the door as quietly as possible but something is grabbing your wrist and pulling you back-! Right into someone's solid chest.

"Quit makin' all th'racket," he slurs, nose rubbing into your neck, "Lay back down with me, baby."

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and his soft touches remind you of everything from the night before. Fuck you want to stay for another round- or 3 -but you really needed to leave. So you try to push back.

"S-Sorry for waking you. I'll be out in just a second. I'll leave my half of the bill-!"

"You're not fucking going anywhere, Y/N."

Ice quickly runs down your spine. You're very sure you didn't tell him your name. You were supposed to be nameless strangers after all.

You turn to glare at him seeing that he has his phone open. "I had a friend of mine do some diggin' on you after you passed out last night." He tells you calmly. Like he didn't just admit to doing a creepy back ground check on you.

"Let go of me." You demand fighting back harder, "I want to go home!"

This man only smirks from where he sits on the bed his eyes having gone back to being cold and dead. "You brought me back into the light, baby. I'm your home now."

[gatorbites-imagines]

Honestly, I knew you from your Darth Vader stories, I would love it if you wrote more of him.

Darth Vader x Kel Dor male reader 

Headcanons 

Reader is Kel dor, cuz I said so, hehe. Debated on Kaleesh, but decided not to. I just really love writing nonhuman reader when I get the chance. Like, the star wars universe is so vast, why are we always only human.  

I like them being soft... old man yaoi... 

You weren't a jedi, but you possessed the force, which allowed you to form a bond with Darth Vader of all beings. A force dyad, he called it.  

There was no rhyme or reason in how you used the force, since you hadn't been taught the whole, light and dark. The force just... was. It did feel as suffocating as going without your protective gear to be around Vader in the beginning, because of how powerful his presence was, but you got used to it. 

Maybe it helped that you were also healer, to a certain degree. You knew how to get by, and that was enough to allow Vader to pull strings. But really, who would question Lord Vader, when he demands a random Kel dor to be made his prime doctor. 

You get a uniform, and some new protective gear that fits you even better than what you had before, and it matches his color scheme, of course. 

Maybe it helped that you were older too, not as old as your once jedi uncle, plo koon, may he rest in peace, but old enough to have experienced a lot, and to have been around before the empire rose. 

Not that it bothered you much. It hadn't been a republic for a long time, and now everyone could see what it was all about at least. And you ended up bagging Vader himself. 

Imagine Vader in his bacta tank, as his body has been hurting, everything hurts down to his very soul. Its like the force is burning inside his very being. 

It only lessens when you enter the room. The vents hiss as the natural gasses from your home planet, Dorin, start filling the room. It doesn't bother Vader as he's inside the tank, and is fed oxygen through the different tubes inserted into his scarred body. 

Vader isnt much for talking. Hes told you once, in one of his more vulnerable moments, that he used to never stop talking. But age, loss and anger had taken that away from him. 

But you can see his eyes soften and the constant tension in his naked scarred body lessen as you reach up and pull your goggles and mask off. 

It took a very long time for you to ever pull your mask and goggles off, mainly because it was deadly for you to do so. About as long as it took Vader to reveal his own ruined appearance to you. 

Humanoid beauty standards never meant much to you, so instead of feeling disgust at his pale scarred self, you just chuckled softly and caressed his sensitive skin carefully. 

After that Vader became somewhat obsessed with your face in return, even implementing multiple areas in any ship or building he spends extended period of time, where the atmosphere can be changed, so you can be comfortable. 

His chest audible rattles as he exhales, bubbles gushing out of the tubes inside his mouth and throat, relief, floods the bond between you. Hes missed you, even if you two are only apart for a few days. 

You two couldn't touch like this, when he was inside the bacta tank, but Vader still twitches towards you as you approach, your four fingered hand resting against the thick glass. 

Vader always feels more at peace with you around. You settle him in ways even Padme couldn't. Oh how he still loves Padme, and you know this and don't mind, but by the force does he love you. 

Love bordering on maddening obsession, possessive to a point where Vader would and could destroy planets for you if you so much as asked. Many servants and members of the empire have died for as much as insulting you and your appearance. 

And you have always loved him as Vader, so its not as if Anakin Skywalker will take center stage. You do feel so warm when he shares parts of Anakin with you though. 

As Vader is inside the bacta tank, you start explaining your day, what you have been up to, what you plan to do later. If you had lips you would have smiled as his eyes start drooping. 

It's no surprise that your lover doesn't sleep much, its hard with all that pain and paranoia, and why sleep when he can sustain himself on the force. 

But hearing your voice, and feeling your warm loving presence against his own puts Vader at ease. 

Its not quite sleep what he does when you two are spending time together like this, your force presences wound together like snakes as you talk about nothing at all. But its close. 

Its closer to meditation, Vaders eyes open just a slit, enough to see you, at all times. The bacta keeps his eyeballs moist, and he would never want you out of sight.  

He wishes you two could cuddle and hold one another, without his life preserving suit, and without yours, but this will have to do for now. 

Part of him fears what he would feel and do if your hands brushed against other parts of his body aside from his face too. He hasnt felt yearning like that since Padme, but they burn hot and heavy. 

And the teasing glint in your dark eyes makes it clear you feel it too, when he experiences this. Maybe another time... 

[ghsface]

It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay...

Bau team x bau!reader

Sumary: Sometimes I need to remind myself and others that survival doesn’t just mean being okay, it means learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, lots of blood, some dark humor at the end, cuts on arms, bathtub full of blood, no use of t/n (if you don't feel good reading this please don't read it, I also tried to approach this topic with too much care and delicacy and respect, I hope not to offend anyone)

Author's note: September is suicide prevention month. "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" is something that you always hear people say.. and it's true.

speaking from my personal experience, it's something that was on my mind many months many years ago, and I was able to put those thoughts aside thanks to people who I thought were never going to help me, it was a long and very hard process but now I can tell you that I'm completely fine, once they told me if you have people to write a farewell letter to it's because at least someone cares about you, you may have heard this before but it's true, you will always have someone to support you even if you think you have no one, also once they told me if you ever have these thoughts again or even try again ask for help it doesn't matter who just ask for help, whatever way ask for help, those words marked me almost all of my adolescence tbh and it helped me, I hope that if you are going through this alone, you can talk to me, my messages will always be open for whatever it is help or just talking, feel free to do so, if you read this up to here I really appreciate that you did<333

The BAU team was uneasy. It wasn't often that someone on their team disappeared without a trace, much less you. Emily Prentiss had been the first to notice your absence, as you never missed work without notice. Days ago, you had requested a brief leave for personal matters, but you hadn't returned to the office or answered any calls or messages since. As the days passed, worry turned to fear.

JJ, Spencer, and Emily decided to go to your house, as they could no longer ignore the fact that something wasn't right. The atmosphere in the car was tense. JJ kept his hands tightly on the wheel, while Spencer stared out the window, his mind wandering through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emily, in the backseat, checked her phone over and over again, hoping in vain to receive some news from you.

When they arrived at your house, the silence was deathly. The windows were closed, and the door seemed intact, but there was something in the air, something that made them hold their breath. Emily pulled out her gun, and after exchanging a worried look with JJ and Spencer, they decided to go inside.

“anyone home?” JJ shouted as she walked down the hallway to the entrance. There was no response.

Spencer’s heart was pounding as they made their way into the living room. Everything was in order, not a sign of a struggle, but something wasn’t right. Every step they took, every corner they inspected, increased the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was Emily who first noticed the bathroom door ajar. She approached it slowly, holding her breath, as a dark foreboding took hold of her. Pushing open the door, the scene she found was enough to make her stomach turn.

There you were, in the bathtub, submerged in the red-tinged water. Your arms hung at your sides, covered in deep cuts, blood still slowly flowing from the wounds.

“Oh my God!” JJ exclaimed from the doorway, her voice cracking.

Spencer walked into the room behind her, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. She’d never felt such paralyzing fear, such sharp pain in her chest. The air became thick, almost impossible to breathe.

Emily was the first to react, rushing to you, her hands shaking as she tried to pull your unconscious body out of the water. “Call an ambulance, JJ!” she screamed, trying to stay calm, though her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Spencer knelt beside you, her eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do this... you can’t leave us like this,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

JJ tried to call 911, but the desperation in his voice made the words catch in his throat. He finally managed to give the address, but the operator informed him that the ambulance would take a while to arrive due to an accident on the main road. Without wasting any more time, JJ made a decision. “We can’t wait, we have to take her ourselves!”

Without thinking twice, the three of them carried you out of the bathroom, wrapping you in towels to stop the bleeding. Spencer held you, his hands still stained with your blood, as they rushed you to the car.

The trip to the hospital was agony. Every second that passed, every breath you took, or stopped taking, was like a stab in the heart of each of them. Emily, driving at full speed, struggled not to lose concentration while JJ, from the backseat, pressed on your wounds, trying to keep you conscious. Spencer kept talking to you, murmuring words of encouragement, pleading with you not to leave, to stay with them.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors immediately took you into surgery. The BAU team, who had been alerted, arrived soon after. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Garcia joined Emily, JJ, and Spencer in the waiting room. The hours passed slowly, each minute a silent torture as they waited for news from you.

Spencer kept staring at his hands, your words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of you, limp and lifeless in that bathtub. He felt helpless, riddled with guilt for not realizing what was happening to you. He loved you, more than he’d ever dared to admit, and the thought of losing you was too painful to bear.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “She’s stable for now, but the blood loss was significant. We had to suture multiple wounds and are monitoring for possible nerve damage. It’s a miracle they brought her in on time.”

The relief was palpable, but so was the sadness. They knew that even though you had survived, the battle wasn’t over. They would have to face the reasons why you had gotten to that point, figure out what had happened, and most of all, be there for you, to help you heal.

Spencer walked up to the ICU door, looking at you through the glass. His eyes filled with tears, he rested a hand on the glass. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you were,” he whispered, feeling the weight of guilt crushing him.

Emily and JJ accompanied him, each feeling a mix of relief and pain. They knew the road to your recovery would be long and difficult, but they were determined to be by your side every step of the way, no matter what it took.

When you were finally able to open your eyes days later, the first thing you saw were the tired but relieved faces of your teammates. You knew you had plunged into a darkness that seemed insurmountable, but seeing the people who loved you by your side, you knew you wouldn’t be alone on the road back to the light.

The dim glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights welcomed you back into the conscious world. Your head hurt, and you felt the weight of the blankets on your body, but what caught your attention the most was the soft sound of someone breathing next to you. You slowly turned your head and met the tired, worried eyes of Spencer, who had been watching over you.

“Spencer…” your voice came out as a whisper, rough from lack of use and medication. You were surprised at how weak you felt, as if a large part of you had vanished.

He sat up instantly, his eyes filling with relief at seeing you awake. “You’re awake…” he said in a tone that reflected a mix of joy and pain. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... If I had known… If I had noticed something…” The weight of his guilt hit you hard. Even though every fiber of your being was exhausted, you couldn’t let Spencer carry that pain. But before you could answer, the door to the room opened, and Emily and JJ rushed in, closely followed by Hotch and Rossi.

Emily approached you, tears in her eyes, but keeping her composure. “You scared the hell out of us,” she said softly, gently taking your hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, understand? We’re here for you, always.” JJ sat on the other side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Whatever you’re going through… you can tell us. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, everyone waiting for you to say something, anything to help them understand what had brought you to this point. You knew they were worried, that they wanted to help you, but it wasn’t easy to put into words the storm that had been building inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking, feeling tears build up in your eyes. “I didn’t want them to know… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Spencer looked at you in pain, his hands shaking slightly as he took yours. “You would never be a burden to us. Never.”

Hotch, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. His voice was firm, but with a tinge of compassion that he rarely showed. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever led you to this, we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

Hotch’s words, so simple and full of promise, were what finally broke the dam. The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to flow, and with them came a wave of emotions you’d been suppressing: the despair, the loneliness, the pain that had consumed you in silence.

Emily wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a strength that anchored you in the present. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking with her own pent-up emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like you could breathe, if only barely. The lump in your chest didn’t go away entirely, but the presence of your peers, your friends, gave you the strength you needed to start talking, to share what you’d been keeping to yourself.

You told them about the pressure you’d felt, the feeling that you were failing, that you couldn’t live up to expectations. You told them how each day had gotten harder to bear, until one day you just couldn’t take it anymore. The words came out in fits and starts, mixed with sobs, but they listened to each one with patience and understanding.

There was no judgment, just support. And as you spoke, little by little, you began to feel the weight that had been weighing you down begin to lighten, if only a little.

When you finally finished, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Spencer was still holding your hand, and his gaze reflected both pain and resolve. “You’re not alone in this. You won’t be anymore,” he said firmly.

Hotch nodded. “We’ll have to work together to get through this, but we will. We’ll help you find the support you need, and we’ll be here for you, too.”

Rossi, who had been watching from the back, came over and gently patted you on the shoulder. “Remember, that’s what family is for, to be there in the worst times and the best too.”

At that moment, although you knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, you also knew that you wouldn’t walk it alone. The team weren't just your colleagues, they were your family, and with them by your side, you began to believe that, perhaps, you could find a way to heal.

And although the darkness still lurked, the light of hope, however small, began to shine again.

ONE YEAR LATER...

1 year into recovery brought with it a new version of you, a version that, while still scarred, both physically and emotionally, was fully committed to moving forward with humor and gratitude. You had rejoined the team fully and found a balance between work, your personal life, and your healing process. Your colleagues had learned to appreciate your new style of humor, even when you surprised them with your comments from time to time.

One afternoon, while you were in the office cafeteria with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, you decided to break the silence with a joke, something you had perfected over those past few months.

“Did you know I’ve developed a new skill?” you said, as you poured yourself a coffee. The three womens looked at you curiously. “Now I can say that I’m an expert in abstract art. I just need something sharp and a bad day.”

There was a moment of surprise, but then Emily was the first to laugh, shaking her head. “You know, no one handles dark humor like you.”

JJ nodded, smiling. “True, but at least now we know you do it with complete command of the situation. Although I will never stop being amazed by your ability to make jokes out of something so serious.”

“Well, my traumas, my jokes,” you said with a wink, and the group burst into laughter. They had learned to take your humor as a sign of your progress, a way to remind yourself and them that you were in control, that you wouldn’t let yourself be overcome by the darkness that once trapped you.

Garcia, who until now had been listening in silence, smiled and gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, I think you should consider writing a self-help book: ‘How to survive work and not go crazy. ’ It could be a best-seller.”

“Sure, with special chapters on how to choose something sharp and how not to use them when you have a bad day,” you joked, and everyone laughed again.

Towards the end of the day, as you were gathering your things to head home, you ran into Rossi in the hallway. He looked at you with his typical knowing expression, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, kid I love seeing you make those jokes. It’s a sign that you’re okay, but it’s also a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yeah, Dave, I know. Sometimes, I need to remind myself and others that surviving doesn’t just mean being okay, but learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?”

Rossi let out a soft laugh. “You know, you can always count on me to be your audience. I’m not as good an audience as Spencer, though.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep that in mind for my next show.”

As you left, you knew you were surrounded by people who understood you, who supported you, and who accepted every part of you, even the darkest ones. But most importantly, you knew you had found a way to move forward: with a smile on your face, a joke on your lips, and a team that, no matter what, would always be by your side.

And as you walked out the door, ready to face whatever came next, you couldn’t help but make one last comment to yourself. “Well, if I survived the bathtub, I’m ready for anything. I just hope there’s more wine and less blood next time.”

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧