#i might revisit this one eventually

[ego-sandwich]

Welcome to the Property (sketch)

[sleepinglionhearts]

Oh, it’s gonna be the way you always thought it would be

but it’s gonna be no illusion

Oh, it’s gonna be the way you always dreamt about it

but it’s gonna be really happenin’ to ya

[sunlitmiracle]

smashes my current interest together with my old interest (aka yet another "what Dungeon Meshi but Gamers?" AU)

Once when I was a child I had a complete crying meltdown over Creatures, because the manual insisted that the complicated AI of the Norns made them truly alive and 10-year-old me was freaked out at the idea of being solely responsible for making sure these real animals wouldn't die. The funny part was that this was the Playstation version of Creatures, which has no biochemistry and very basic AI compared to the PC/Mac games where players actually were debating whether or not it was true artificial life. A PSX manual gave me existential dread and it wasn't even telling the truth.

Anyway, kid!Marcille would also have a meltdown over the Creatures series, especially if she had the computer games and got to see how vastly different some breeds' lifespans are. Like in C2 where you have Norns that live for around 5 hours and Norns that live for 10, both of which are vastly more than Ettins who don't even live for 1.5 hours (and usually less due to radiation or starvation).

Lucky for her, having the computer version means she could download modified genomes made by other players that make creatures live longer or even outright remove certain death triggers. However I think she'd have more fun learning to read and edit the genomes herself, to get a better understanding of how the game works and how to change it to suit her own tastes. And because she could pretend she's one of the mysterious ancient Shee who created the Norns, Grendels, and Ettins and then vanished, leaving behind relics of their old society.

(Speaking of Grendels, she would unfortunately dislike them because they're the Designated Evil Species and she'd hate how they harass and attack her Norns. I think she'd also pity them though, because they get sick a lot and have short lifespans. Likely she'd just end up downloading/creating a genome without the aggression towards Norns. Ettins she'd like except for in C3 when they dismantle her meticulously-placed gadget setups, so she might mod out their hoarding compulsions too. Both of them would of course also live for however long her Norns would live.)

Also. While standard creatures' lifespans are counted in hours, if you modify the half-lives in the genome editor you can increase it to centuries. Or even just over a millennium if you set the half-lives to their max length (assuming you also leave the old age death trigger at its vanilla value).

and I like to think that elven Creatures players would pass around copies of what they consider a template genome that's appropriate to their own lifespans. Something that would make their creatures live for weeks or months of continuous play. I also like to think the Creatures DS Warp is still active in this AU because of the hilarious frustration when these long-lived Norns travel to worlds run by short-lived players whose Norns have vanilla lifespans, and vice versa.

(Most of the time in Creatures, offspring of parents with different lifespans will just have one or the other, but there's a chance the genes cross over right in the middle of the various age triggers and cause unstable aging rates. Like a Norn that goes through the childhood stages in hours but then has a very extended adulthood. Or a days-long childhood followed by suddenly dropping dead of old age once the vanilla adulthood genes kick in. Or, if the child has one parent's half-life decay rate and the other parent's age triggers, all sorts of odd things could happen. I once had hybrid Norns who lived for 20 hours and would die of organ failure before reaching the old age threshold!)

(Now that I think of it, Marcille would absolutely hate fast-agers. The first time she watches a creature hatch, turn old, and die in just one brief minute of life, she would be sobbing for days. One of the first things she'd learn to mod out would be mutations that cause the Ageing/Life chemical to decrease unusually fast.)

On a lighter note, while I don't know what her favorite designs would be I think she'd love choosing cute breeds to use in her world. Once she figured out how to give her creatures the comfortable life she wants them to have I can see her redirecting all her gene-editing efforts into changing color expressions. She might even learn to sprite or model her own custom designs.

[horrorknife]

ok im sorry that im talking about this again but

i think that my experience with hereditary sucked so much because of how overhyped it was. i had people telling me for years that it was one of the scariest movies ever etc etc and like. it really isn’t. it’s got fucking incredible sound and set design and acting but it isn’t incredibly special in any regard. a good majority of horror movies are about grief and trauma and fucked up families. a good majority of horror movies are about demons and cults and etc. sure, it’s atmospheric and intense and doesn’t pull punches, but it’s also predictable as hell (i saw the joan “twist” coming from a mile away, and predictability isn’t always a bad thing, but after this film being touted to me like the best thing since sliced bread, it fails miserably at being a good full product). there were scenes in it that i really really enjoyed and was immersed in, and i was interested the entire time i was watching it, but the plot is honestly just kind of garbage. also i’m sorry but toni colette banging her head on that attic door at 5x speed is still fucking hysterical to me. its just funny.

also like??? really? you guys are this into the spooky little girl trope?? tbh the daughter read autistic to me and everyone is like OHHH SHES SO CREEPY and its like…Ok? not really? she just seems like a troubled and autistic child? and the narrative just beats and batters her and writes her “weird behavior” off as a demon? fuck right off tbh i was like so infuriated w how this character was treated in the first 20 minutes that i was just pissed the entire rest of the movie LOL

[mbat]

i love to 100% games if its not a super pain in the ass or practically impossible (like if a game is massive or has like 100s of possible achievements) but holy SHIT it can be such a massive pain in the ass

[moondirti]

so.. simon and johnny stopping by a seedy 24/7 roadhouse on their way back home post-op

featuring: established ghostsoap. pregnant fem!reader. alluded kidnapping, extremely toxic attitudes. they’re literally delusional. mentioned death. this verges on dark so please beware!

They’ve driven past it about a hundred times, never having given it more than a passing glance. Who would, really? Nothing about it seemed appealing – in all its sun-bleached paint job and flickering neon signage glory – but circumstances lent themselves to its consideration. What was supposed to be a half-day mission ended up taking two, meaning they haven’t had time to sleep let alone eat. On top of that, a delayed exfil made it so they touched down on base at an ungodly hour. By the time Price waived their paperwork and they got into their car, they were famished.

“Could eat the scabby heid aff a dog,” Johnny eventually groans. He’d tried his best to hang in there, mindful not to be a pest during the hours it takes his partner to decompress after a rough operation, but his stomach kills and he knows Simon’s does too. He only receives a grunt for a response, though the man abruptly steers into the leftmost lane, catching the nearest exit towards the place in his periphery. Cleary meant to model an American diner with it’s fading blue exterior and obnoxious banner: The Dahlia

But they’ve been in worse. They hardly take note of the coffee rings staining their table, or the homeless man who’s taken residence in a corner booth (besides the brief once-over in their threat assessment upon entering). No; they just slot themselves by the nearest exit, scan over the menu and decide to order the quickest meal possible.

Only for things to take a sudden turn when their waitress stops by.

Christ alive, Johnny wonders how you manage to glow under the harshest of fluorescents. Dewy skin. Bright eyes, if not a little sunken at the late hour. Still, you smile and do so genuinely as you waddle to their station, clicking a pen before asking: “And what can I do you for, gentlemen?”

Simon doesn’t look at you immediately, not even when you speak up. He’s too fixed on Johnny, replaying the past days’ events in his head. Revisits the hour where their comms malfunctioned, when he lost touch with his boy and had to fight not knowing whether he was holding up okay. He has trust in him, of course, more bleedin’ trust than he has in earth to keep rotating. Still–

You clear your throat.

His pupils shift to pin you under their scrutiny, only he can’t bring it in him to be as severe as he wants to be. Because, while the first thing Johnny notices about you is your beauty, the first thing Simon sees is your bump.

Obscured by your apron, but still there. Round. Full. 6 months along, by the looks of it.

He’s forced to recall Beth, Tommy by extension. An old working knowledge that comes back to haunt him. At 23 weeks, his sister in law’s pregnancy began to weigh on her. Heartburn. Backaches. Hot flashes that resulted in bouts of dizziness. She couldn’t be up for more than 2 hours at a time, and yet here you are.

What the fuck were you doing in a place like this?

“Need more time to decide?” You ask. Patient. Lovely. If Johnny weren’t so sleep-deprived, so in over his head, he would perhaps realise the subtle hints you were dropping. They’ve been staring too long now, unsettling no doubt. Grimy, each with a tell-tale bump on their waistbands that point to their armament. Simon sans hard-shell mask, but still in a balaclava and eyeblack. Both larger than life and practically alone with you in this isolated place.

It’s Simon who speaks up first. “Fish and chips for the both of us. To-go. Cheers.”

You scribble the order down, pausing to consider. “Coffee? Gotta inform you, it’s drip, bottom of the carafe so it might taste burnt too. Hotplate’s all out of sorts.”

“Aye, just the one. Gae head an’ dip yer finger in it too. Might benefit from a little sweetener.” It takes you a second to process Johnny’s flirt. When you do, though, you visibly blanch, ducking your head to hide your face as you pretend to jot what he said down.

“I’ll have that right out for you.”

And then you scurry off, glancing over your shoulder once you think you’re out of sight. Curious. Flustered.

Simon’s attention refocuses on the scotsman once you’re gone, an eyebrow raised under his mask. His partner is able to read the expressed question well enough: what do you think you’re doing? Strict, but not so much angry as it a press for him to think before he speaks, to balance the scales before he asks something of Ghost that he can’t refuse.

“Dinnae look at me like tha’.” Johnny whispers. “Bonnie lass, isn’t she?”

Simon blinks. “Expecting, too.”

“We cannae leave her here.”

Memories occur in rapid succession. Tommy. Beth. The cherubic face they had brought into the world – little Joseph, who was the first he found dead upon returning home.

He considers Johnny, Soap, this force of nature that wormed his way into his life and sunk his teeth into the rot of his heart, fastened before Simon could even think of brushing him off.

“And here’s that coffee! Your meals should be coming out soon, thank you for being patient.”

It’s a bad idea. Horrible. You could have a partner, a cozy home waiting for you. Nursery already painted. Names already chosen.

What good partner would let you work this shitty job?

It’s a bad, horrible idea. No good for anyone. They’re on constant deployment. They risk their lives on every run. You’d be put in harm’s way yourself.

Not if they hide you well enough. Their house is secluded for a reason.

It’s a bad, horrible, no good idea – but Johnny accepts the mug with a gracious smile and you bloom all pretty, hand inadvertently cradling your belly. Little flower, persisting against all odds. Growing from the fissures of broken concrete. Dignified still. Kind. Strong.

So what if they pluck you from your place? They’ve got somewhere much better for you to thrive.

next part

[maraschinotopped]

lets fucking goooo finally 100%ed sbm5. took me ages to do so but i did it!!!

[darthfighter]

stop whining

summary: you are presented with a high bounty you can collect named kai varis, he once was a former jedi. you conjure up a plan to reunite with a past lover to collect a bounty, but you are revisited with an old flame. will it light again as you two work together?

warnings: tension, violence, mandalorian!reader, character death, smut, oral (f!receiving), munch!qimir yup yup !!

word count: 5.7k

A/N: i powered through this for the beloved @nomarksonelegance who is undeniably my most loyal reader 😭 your support doesn’t go unnoticed. as well as @wooyoungsbxtch who encouraged me to write this <3 thanks for all the support bffs !!

100,000 credits. That's how much you would be rewarded if you captured this rogue Jedi. The credits that were displayed in front of you on the bounty hologram were like you were looking into the stars. You knew this price could get your foot out of the sinking sand taking you down. All your debts and needs. Especially those savory drinks you down whenever you earn enough credits to spend at Canto Bight.

Your memories start to resurface on that expensive planet. All the money that went down the drain, or especially the passionate nights between you and your partner. Your old partner, to be precise.

You and him had met once you confronted him on being a bounty. He was the hardest one to find or capture. Anyone who searched for him and succeeded, either returned empty handed, or simply never returned. You on the other hand had found him which turned into a heated brawl.

Although there was some similarity between the two of you. Neither of you knew it yet. Though at first glance people might think it was your similar attire. His helmet as well as yours. Your forearm is built of beskar to be able to block his lightsabers, like his forearm made of cortosis. The both of you built yourselves armor, but both of you deep down had something to cover internally. This, Qimir sensed. It’s why he didn’t kill you that day.

It’s why he lets you search for him repeatedly, and lets you encounter him more than once. Until you sense it too. Although you’re no Jedi. Unlike Qimir, or whatever he is. You eventually sense the familiarity with him. How he matched your violence, your anger, your rage. He resembled you, and you resembled him.

This brought you two to work together. Find criminals while maybe being criminals yourselves, but this was a hard life. It wasn’t easy. To get by in this universe was to make hard decisions or make mistakes.

Now you were both masked vigilantes in a way, working together. The two of you bounced off of each other well and it made you capture more bounties than you ever had, with the help of Qimir. He became a part of your life. To the point his voice would be in the back of your mind in his absence.

Then grew want. Your motive started to change. You ended up getting jobs you didn’t really need, but instead felt the need to be beside Qimir. The more jobs you took the closer the two of you grew.

It quickly went from gentle touches to tight lustful grips. From accompanying each other during meals to being able to taste the lingering drink on each other's lips.

Though over time, he started to become The Stranger everyone called him. He started to grow, in a way, grow away from you. Slowly become that stranger they all talked about. He grew more wants and needs that weren’t you. Even from the very beginning, he wanted a pupil. Someone to teach. Someone to become the power of two. The power you didn’t have. This causes heated arguments with voices rising and falling. You felt little, with little to offer. This led to you both parting ways.

It’s been a while since then, and in moments like now, you start to reminisce on the time together.

Although your mind stayed on him. This bounty was too perfect to pass up. Too perfect not to pursue. It was calling to you. The sight of the credits before you buzzed in your ears. You needed to succeed on this, and you knew just the right person to help make that happen.

–

Flying yourself to Qimir’s planet made you feel nothing but nostalgia. In a way it was overwhelming. The smell of the air to the sounds of the waves crashing. Just being on the planet made you feel all those feelings you once had while being here. All the memories made your eyes water.

Walking your way closer to the island made you feel less than. The reason being you have no idea if he’s really here, and you can’t exactly call out to the force to feel his presence. You just have to trust the fact he might be on this island.

You slowly shift yourself around the terrain and scan the area for any sign of his stature. The rocks tumble beneath your shoes. You start to walk alongside the shore with waves crashing beside you. You walk and walk, until you are met with him.

He’s tying a knot in a net with what seems to be his dinner inside, resting eternally.

The sight of him brings back all your feelings in an instant. Flowing through you from head to toe. It keeps you in place, frozen. Your armor stays completely still and unmoving, though your heart jumps at every chance it gets and bounces against your chestplate. You see him now, modulated from your helmet, and think of all the times you truly saw him. Unfiltered and true.

Without looking at you, he speaks between the distance “How much?” It’s monotone but assertive. There is no emotion behind it, just a simple question.

You respond to him, though your voice shakes more than you anticipated and your modulated voice from your helmet can’t cover it “100,000.”

There goes a moment of silence where neither of you say anything. The lingering amount of credits ring in his mind.

You look at him and take him in like the heat of the suns. Your body starts to panic internally at the realization about the situation you put yourself in. Going back to a man you have undeniable history with just for the sake of some credits. Or maybe it was you finding an excuse to see him.

Qimir uses his strength and hauls the net of food around his shoulder, still silent. He walks until he is a few steps in front of you, and stares at your helmet. He tries to find your eyes beneath it, scanning your visor. There is a split second he truly matches your gaze and it squeezes your heart. This makes the corner of his lip twitch into a smile. Qimir goes back to his trail and walks beside you, still saying nothing.

He was a man of few words, and whenever he did speak, he talked in a way like you were reading a book. Saying things like they were written, or like he rehearsed it. Never slurring or stuttering his words. He knew the exact words to say to get you convinced or to make you melt.

Though at this moment he remained unspoken, and you weren’t letting this trip go to waste.

“His name is Kai Varis.” You started to march towards him but leaving some distance behind him. You didn’t want to be close enough to breathe down his neck. “He once was a Jedi.” This makes him stop in his tracks.

“What happened?” He asked. His tone now wasn’t monotone, but rather curious.

“Fell into his feelings–” You walk a bit closer to him and continue on “Apparently he fell in love with a common girl. He was stationed out on a planet and fell in love with a farm girl. Maybe wanted to grow crops forever instead of his Jedi duties.” There was a hint of sarcasm in your speech, “I don't know! The point is, the Jedi council wouldn’t allow it. Revenge happened. Some Jedi died. They're trying to find him but are failing, so they’re setting out an award for whoever finds him.”

Qimir is still looking ahead, but once you stop talking, his head shifts slightly to the side. Almost like he wanted to turn and see you, but instead he continues walking on forward. “I'm assuming this isn’t an easy job.”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was easy.” You responded.

He walks and walks. Continues to walk. He walks even more, and still not conversing as much as you want. You are starting to grow more agitated and it makes your chest burn, you look into the distance at the suns, and you decide to set it straight “I’ll be on my ship until the suns set. If you don't make up your mind until the sky is black, I'm leaving.” You stop your pace and wait for an answer.

Still walking.

—

Sitting in the cockpit of your ship, you swivel your chair from side to side in anticipation. The last sun is almost set and it’s closing in on the horizon. The sky is growing darker, resembling the hope you have for Qimir’s company.

You start to feel like an idiot, now regretting coming here. If he does decide to not join you, the last encounter you two have is this short awkward offer instead of the true last time you saw each other. Your brain starts to reminisce on the warm embraces and passionate kisses, but you are shoved out your thoughts harshly by his gravely modulated voice coming from behind you.

“Happy now?”

You jump out of your seat a bit in surprise. While you were thinking back your memorable moments with Qimir, you missed the last bit of the sun falling in the distance. You turn to look at him, and the two of you stare at each other with your helmets on, almost like a standoff. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you finally realize his teasing remark and shake your head moving your helmet side to side. You don’t say anything about it and instead turn your gaze to the dashboard, pushing switches and knobs to make it to your destination.

Qimir doesn’t sit in the chair beside you for takeoff, just stands in the corner with his arms stretched out in front of his leather poncho-like attire. When you finally make it to the sky, far enough, you push forward and set you and Qimir into hyperspace. The ship shifts with a force and the environment illuminates pure blue.

Without looking back to Qimir, you set him in on the scene. The planet you both are going to is a commonly known planet where fugitives hide out, in the hopes to get a hunch on this rogue Jedi. It’s a spread out community unlike others. So everyone has their privacy. The scenery is filled with trees so tall you might crack your neck trying to look at a whole tree.

You are met with quiet. Mentally you are hoping to Maker his silence is a sign he’s listening. So you let him be. Although you are left with you. You and your mind, and it starts to wander. On why he chose to come along last minute, why he’s not speaking as much as he used to with you, if there is a possibility he hates your guts, or if there is something he’s not telling you. You piece it together. After minutes of running around in your brain trying to put the puzzle together, you have a question.

“Are you coming along to not capture him, but teach him?” Your helmet looks back to him, and he turns to you, slightly shifting down as a yes. He doesn’t care about the bounty, he wants a pupil.

This makes your chest fill with steam and your blood boil. Both of your motives are different and you aren’t on the same page. You rise from your seat and stomp towards the exit, but before you can make your way out, Qimir softly (though it is deep and raspy with his helmet) says your name, and stretches out his arm to rest his hand on your forearm to stop you from leaving abruptly. Though you sadly ache for his real touch considering his hand is only on your armor piece on your arm, not really touching your skin like how you wish. No matter what you think, there will always be something in the way with you two.

Before he can say anything, you leave the cockpit to assess the situation.

—

Your mind finally settled on an option as you just went through your mental files of ideas. You stomped your way back into the cockpit with Qimir still in the corner, the force from the ship shifted as you exited out of hyperspace. The sight of the planet came into view making this situation become a reality. The reality is both of you having different motives. You know convincing Qimir won't be an option, you don't wanna waste your time. So you accept it.

“Whoever finds him first gets to decide what to do with him. I find him, I turn him in and get my reward. Or you get to him first and train him.” After your statement, you turn to him and see him remain unmoving. Until he nods his head down indicating a yes. This annoys you, even though you both agree on something, it's not what you wanted.

Once again the two of you are going your separate ways just like before, never moving or even thinking in sync. Always off balance.

Eventually you make your way to the overgrown trees of a planet and find a place to land your ship. You do so perfectly and start to gear yourself up. Whereas Qimir just has his helmet, coat, and lightsaber. You have your rifle strapped to your back, pistol on your hip, and cuffs onto your belt for when you capture him. You have more baggage, metaphorically and physically speaking. The heaviness on your shoulders was like a spitting image of how you felt on the inside.

As you both got off your ship, Qimir looked at you from the side, and wasted no time heading to find Kai Varis. He was determined, and so were you.

Obviously you went the opposite way as him in the hopes to be going towards the side Kai is really at.

At this moment, deep down secretly, you are furious. Furious for the reason being you both aren’t on the same page, and also being the fact you weren’t a Jedi yourself. Qimir always has an advantage. It was one of the reasons he was so good at finding bounties. Though slowly your ego started to rise. This was your job and you are good at it. You have no force to call out to in moments when you could use it. All you used was your brain and instincts. It has gotten you this far in life and that seemed like a good sign to you. As well as being able to fend for yourself, and especially defend yourself with pure agility. No extra bonus in the force. All you.

You’ll find Kai Varis.

You’ll definitely show to Qimir you don’t need him as much as he thinks. Even though deep down in your bones you craved him more than you’d like to admit. You wish at this moment you could take each individual bone in your body and clean them yourself, to get rid of his residue.

This wasn’t the moment to be thinking of Qimir. Kai should be your main focus right now, but Qimir lingered in the back of your mind. Infesting you like a parasite.

With every step you took wandering around the planet, your thoughts would focus on your mission with trying to find Kai, but Qimir would end up being the forefront no matter what. It started to frustrate you, causing more force to each of your steps.

Your helmet scanned the area and even highlighted every object around you, but your main focus was the ground to see if any shoe prints were made recently. After a few minutes, you see faded imprints of shoes in the dirt before you. The anticipation makes your heart leap, stinging inside of you.

You immediately dart towards the trail to find who it belongs to, only to be met with a campsite with what seems to be a traveler. He has a pot above the makeshift fire filling the air with smoke. He sees you, you and your armored stature. There is a sense of intimidation receding off of him. You slowly walk towards him, feeding into the intimidation. All you do before him is display the bounty on a hologram, and with your actions you ask if he has seen him. With no words, he raises his right hand and uses his pointer finger to point to the right of him. You nod your head down as a thank you, and immediately head that direction.

It took a bit of time to get another sign of Kai Varis. The suns started to set a bit more, illuminating a orange hue into the green leaves around you. The bright light shined through the trees, though you couldn't see much of the sight through your helmet. You imagined it looked quite nice. The next sign you saw was an empty food container next to a bush. You pick up the remnants of Kai and feel the warmth beneath your glove. Indicating he had been here recently. You scan the area with heavy breaths at the mere thought of getting close to catching him all on your own. His steps trace to the left of you, and you follow the trail.

The more you walk the more you see the trace appears more recent. You’re getting closer until you see a bright light shine through the trees. It’s a fireplace cracking in the distance with no one nearby. You cautiously walk towards the scene, finding remnants of a life lived at this site. With cans of food and a makeshift bed on the ground. Your neck goes from left to right repeatedly, until you come to the conclusion no one is near this area. Though they couldn’t have gone far, you thought.

Your heavy combat boots crunch below you as the twigs and leaves give you away, considering your weight is doubled by your heavy armor. You decide to bring out your pistol instead of your rifle because it makes more logical sense as you are on your toes and will most likely endure close combat soon. The pistol sticks to your palms like glue and your eyes are wide and open. Barely blinking in case you miss him.

Clashes of blue and red shine in the far forest.

Qimir found him first.

It was no surprise to you that he did, but it still stung your chest and made you irritated. You groan in an irritated manner and head towards the fight. Once you make it, Qimir’s anonymous alias is fighting against a once Jedi. They both move so fluidly like water. Both in sync, unlike you and Qimir.

In this moment you are on a ledge above them and decide to take charge from this distance. You put your pistol back in its holster with your heart racing more and more by the second. With shaky hands you reach towards your back and grab a hold of your sniper rifle. You switch the mode to stun mode, and finally see your trembling hands. You’ve had countless jobs just like this one, but this specific one just has too much at stake. Too much to lose. You tighten your hand into a forceful grip to bring yourself back to reality, and immediately get in position to strike from a far distance.

Your helmet aligns with the scope of your rifle to only have them move so fast you can barely keep track of them both, so you prepare. You prepare for where they will be. They seem to be moving to the right, so you aim more ahead of the right. The stakes are high, and you need to time this at the right second. With your finger on the trigger, you anxiously hold it until the right moment comes. You see Kai in your view and pull your trigger finger. The stun ray shoots through the air, missing him by just a second.

You failed.

Then Qimir and Kai’s attention gets sent to you. Their gaze pierces you like a knife and you feel frozen. Kai darts to you, now making you his target instead.

Qimir feels fear. Fear that you are now at risk more than he anticipated. With no hesitation he as well runs towards the fight.

Now, you rise to your feet and bolt the opposite way. Moving as fast as you can muster. You have no Jedi speed, so it's only a matter of time until both of them catch up to you.

From the left, Kai appears from behind a tree and sways his blue saber towards you, which you dodge. You are still holding your rifle and you have no time to set it back in place, and it's weighing you down. Kai strikes again to which you raise your rifle out of fear and block the attack. The rifle splits into two, falling to the floor becoming instantly useless. You have no time to mourn over your lost weapon, but instead reach for your last weapon.

You reach for your pistol out your holster and waste no seconds with aiming and shooting, to which Kai blocks every laser with his lightsaber.

You’ve fought many bounties and captured many, but none of them have ever been a Jedi. You feel little and at a loss. He has countless advantages on you, and he wastes no time using them.

With the force, Kai pulls your pistol out of your hand. He lunges towards you and you sway out of the way before the hot steaming blade can meet you, but you didn't anticipate for the blade to reach your leg. With a second attack immediately after his first, he slices your right leg swiftly.

From your stinging leg, to your stomach inhaling from the pain, to your throat brewing a loud screech, and finally to your mouth letting out a hurtful wail. You fall to the floor as the weight on your injured leg becomes too unbearable for you to stand on. You are weak and hurt. Defeated.

You know these are your last moments and you don't think of all your fond memories you had, or you don’t think about you're not ready to die. Your mind is blank, and all you do is stare at Kai Varis in front of you. He raises his saber to strike you, to finish you. You squeeze your eyes shut to face the impact of death and you hear the saber scream against skin, but it's not yours. Death never came. So you open your eyes to find a red saber impaling Kai.

Beneath your helmet, you open your eyes and see life wash away from Kai’s complexion. The red lightsaber disappears and Kai’s dead weight makes him fall to the floor harshly with a loud thud. Your eyes stay onto him, realizing the situation now at hand.

He’s dead, and the money went with him.

Your head snaps to Qimir, and you stare at each other with blank gazes against each other's helmets. You can't read his face, and he can’t read yours. But you use your tone to show your expression “What have you done!” Your loud voice echoes against the inside of your helmet and it hurts your ears. You can’t see what Qimir is looking like at the moment but his chest rises and falls at a rapid pace indicating he is breathing heavily. He’s not calm and neither are you. “Neither of us got what we wanted?!”

You attempt to rise to your feet to argue more thoroughly, but you crash back to the floor with your wound on your calf bringing you back down. Qimir offers a hand but you slap it away. You feel the sting of regret when you do so. You are harsh towards him even though deep down you are tender for him, but the stakes of this moment are too high for you to be fond of him like you always are. Your credits are washed down the drain, and you are only left empty handed and wounded. Not only that, you opened a deep wound in the process of all of this by bringing Qimir into this. Revisiting old flames.

Slowly and with ease you get back up putting more pressure into your left leg leaning the weight on that side. You limp your way back to your ship, refusing Qimir’s help in the process.

The closer you got to your ship the more you felt anguish below you. Your hairline was slick with sweat and heart thumping in adrenaline to keep you from passing out. The pain was unbearable and all you wanted to do was get off this Maker forsaken green planet. Slowly you made yourself climb up the rail with Qimir behind you. He was irritating you the more time he spent around you. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Finally you made it to the cockpit and crashed onto the chair feeling the weight off your shoulders finally lifted. With all the energy you had left, you flew you and Qimir off the planet, and set out for hyperspace.

With a raspy voice you asked him “Can you grab the medkit?” But he doesn’t reply. Nor do you hear his footsteps recede away from you. He just stays. In your mind, you think why must he be doing everything to make you mad?

Instead of his steps going away, they go towards you. His hand reaches towards your chair and swivels you to face him. With tired eyes, you do so. You look at him with your head laying against the headrest, but you have to raise it up to follow him, keeping your gaze on him as he kneels down in front of you.

With a gentle touch, Qimir wraps his hand around your ankle to lift your right leg. You wince above him and he still remains silent. His fingertips barely touch your wound, and he asks "So the only reason you took this is for credits? Nothing else?" He lifts your leg higher making you gasp through your lungs and inhale. You are straining your voice when you reply to his question “What are you implying?”

“You know what.”

Qimir’s words are intimidating, and it doesn't help that his modulated helmet makes it more so. With the force, he is gentle, and heals you beneath his palm. A relief washes over you like a wave and the pain slips through your fingers like silk. It is wearing off, and breathing becomes a bit easier. By the time you look down to your leg, your red gashing wound is no more. Your skin is bare and open beneath your striped cloth on your pants, and Qimir starts to massage it. He kneads your flesh like dough and your physical memories of you two in moments like this become the forefront in your mind. The moments where his big hands would softly caress your skin in bare moments like these. Those moments would be rather passionate and heated.

Although right now you are in the opposite. Clothed head to toe, and even with your facial expressions hidden away from him. You in armor hiding away doesn't change the fact your cunt starts to pulsate beneath you just from his touch. The familiar touch you mourned.

His hand stays onto your calf while his other hand reaches for his helmet, which he slowly takes off. Everything you wondered about under there is revealed. You see his dark eyes with a hazy glow to them, his eyebrows closing together in concentration, and especially his slick lips already licked from his tongue from want.

You start to bite your lip in the hopes to not let your yearning seep through your teeth. You grip the arm rests beside you tightly and the leather stretches in the air. He hears this, and his eyes dart to your tenseness in front of him. This makes his lip twitch in a smirk but is quickly stripped away.

Qimir slowly lowers his head to your exposed leg, and kisses your now healed wound. His lips are soft against your skin and it takes all the strength you have to keep your mouth shut. You don’t want to moan, not this early, not with that simple kiss. It’s pathetic how unraveled he makes you. But he doesn't stop there, he continues up your leg still kissing it even through the cloth. He plants kisses up your inner knee, to your thigh, and finally inner thigh. Your hips buck in a jumpy twitch. Finally he presses one kiss on your core, and you exhale more than you anticipated but you inhale it as quick as it came out.

He doesn’t continue, just keeps his face in between your legs while his eyes scan your visor trying to find your eyes. His head shakes from side to side in a mental disagreement in his head and this makes his long black strands of hair in front of his face move fluidly.

His body rises towards you and he reaches towards your helmet to take it off. Once it's off you both examine each other's expressions. Eyes darting from inch to inch. The one word to explain Qimir’s gaze is satisfaction. The reaction you're giving him is the exact one he wants.

Qimir’s hand reaches towards your chin to hold it in place, as he presses a soft but long kiss onto your lips. You waste no time in reciprocating it from all the lost time you two have had. Your lips haven’t meshed with his in a long time, but you kiss like you had done so yesterday. Finally, you both are in sync. In a way, this is how you two fight.

Smacks from each other's lips fill the air and you start to taste the sweet taste you missed from his lips. You hum against him as you savor it. Just as you start to let yourself melt away under him, he removes himself from your lips. Your neck extends wanting more, but he lowers himself back in between your legs. With his tender hands, he tugs onto your waistband lowering it down. The ship's cold air reaches its way to your slowly exposed skin and sends shivers down your spine. Before you know it, you’re fully exposed to him and you feel like it's the first time all over again.

His mouth hangs open in desire. With the hand he has just used to heal you, he lightly touches your pussy, feeling the slickness of want. “Just credits? Nothing else?”

“Shut up.” You retort.

Qimir uses his pointer finger and his middle to gently message the sides of your cunt. With a fast warmth, he presses his flat tongue on your entrance and licks upwards towards your clit. You sigh loud inside the small cockpit and you finally let your moans escape your lips. While he kisses and sucks on your pussy.

The vibrations of his voice below you sends waves of pleasure through you. The main crash landing onto your clit. Your gloved hand reaches towards his hair and he groans against you the more you pull.

You missed this. You close your eyes shut to savor this moment. To keep it lasting. You start to focus on not finishing. You need to make this last as long as you can. Although you start to ride his face, moving your hips back and forth. This comes to you as a natural instinct, like you rehearsed it.

Then, you released the tight bite you had on your lip and spoke with heavy breaths “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

His lips unlatch from your cunt, and with a wet mouth he answers in a condescending tone “Stop whining about it.”

Shortly after he latches back onto you, wanting to savor and taste more of you.

Your stomach grows tight and as well as your gloves from your constant clutches on the armrest and Qimir’s locks. Your chestpiece rises and falls from your pants, and you’re getting close. Qimir no doubt senses this. He practically can sense anything with his force. So he repeatedly hums a low “Mhm” against you, sending you over the edge.

You unravel against him and your whole body gets tense. Your eyes then shut so tight your ears hum from the force from your eyes. Qimir’s mouth never leaves you and continues to run his tongue over you. Though the more you come down the more gentler he does so. He knows you. He especially knows your body, and he knows you like him to leave lingering kisses around you once you finish.

You can hear the sound of his soft kisses against your core and thighs, feeling the comfort beneath his actions. Finally you open your eyes to be met with the roof of the cockpit, until Qimir comes into view begging for another kiss. Which you gladly give him.

Both of you and Qimir’s lips move in sync and you taste yourself on him.

Once you stop kissing, you look into his eyes and assess the situation. The reason you both were brought together was to find a bounty, Qimir had different motives, you two went separate ways, found each other during combat, he saves you from Kai to only kill him in the process, losing the bounty as well as his wanted pupil, then you are injured, make your way back to the ship, to finally being eaten out by a man you have history with.

It’s complicated to say the least.

The jump out of hyperspace pulls you back into reality. To which he gently puts your pants back to where they were.

Qimir doesn’t rise from the ground. He stays crouching below you, with doe-like eyes looking back at you.

“You forgive me?” His voice is soft and sincere. No hint of teasing behind it. He’s serious about it. Considering he took months worth of pay that you would have received away from you.

Your hand reaches the side of his face, and you lean forward. With a healed leg and euphoric come down, you answer with a kiss.

[cevansbrat0007]

There is a trend on some social media where the wife/Gf gives her man a full plate and only her self a little saying that is all that was left. How would Andy and Ari act in that situation?

What's Eating You, Mr. Levinson?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to read Andrew Barber's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Brief Mention of Calorie Counting, Bickering, Manhandling, Threats of Spanking/Punishment, Discussion of a Sex Tape, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Ari Levinson from my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You weren’t quite sure what possessed you to do this. If anybody asked, you would claim temporary insanity. But right now you were about to get up to some mischief. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” You mutter under your breath as you adjust the position of the camera you hid tucked away behind a plant. Pleased with the angle, you make a mental note to revisit the world of Harry Potter sooner rather than later. 

It was officially time for a reread. 

Tonight you were gonna play a little joke on your bounty hunter boyfriend. One that you’d come across the other day after accidentally straying from the wonderful world of BookTok. You just hoped he would find it as amusing as you did. In fact, you were certain that he would.

Eventually.   

Hands on your hips, you do an about-face and traipse back into the kitchen to get started on dinner. On tonight’s menu was a Tuscan pork roast, complete with red wine mushrooms and Haricots Verts – also known as French Green Beans. And for dessert, you’d decided to whip up your man’s favorite: key lime pie 

So, even if he got pissed at you later, you were confident you had something that would soothe his ruffled feathers. 

Fingers crossed.

Later that Evening…

The heady thrum of excitement hits you the moment you hear the open and shut of your front door. Having anticipated his arrival, you’d even thrown on a new dress and cued up a little music. While it wasn’t your usual style, you knew without a doubt that Ari would appreciate your efforts. 

“Bird?” 

The sound of your nickname has a smile forming on your lips before you even realize it. Smoothing your hands over your skirt, you make your way towards your mudroom, eager to greet your handsome bounty hunter. 

His eyes light up the moment he sees you. He stands there for a moment, drinking in the sight you clad in your new black dress and wedge heels. 

“Well, get a look at you.” He breathes, allowing his bag to drop at his feet next to his forgotten boots.

“You like?” Biting your lip, you give into temptation and do a little spin. 

Confidence blooms when you hear his appreciative whistle. But that’s nowhere near enough for your man. Because now that you’d gone and given him a show, he wanted more. 

“Oh baby, I love.” 

Pulling you into his arms, his mouth quickly descends upon your own. His tongue wastes no time finding yours, exploring every inch, every corner of your mouth. He lets you know without words that he’s so unbelievably happy to be home holding you like this. 

You cling to him, your hands roving beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt to run along the sculpted plane of his back. When he finally lets you up for air it’s so he can nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, unique scent.    

“You’re beautiful.” He rasps, pecking your lips once more, his large hands come up to frame your face. “So beautiful. Can’t wait to take this dress off you later, see what you might be hiding underneath.”

“All in good time, Beast.” Your lashes flutter closed as you lean into his touch. “All in good time.”

“What if I don’t wanna wait?” His husky growl rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest as he fiddles the material of your skirt. 

“Well, you’re gonna.” Comes your cheeky response. “So go on and wash up for supper. We’re having something yummy.” You bat as his hands, intending to shoo him up the stairs.

The look that flashes across your man’s face makes it clear that he’d much rather have you for dinner instead. He boxes you in, slowly crowding you with his much larger frame as he backs you against a nearby wall. 

However, you refuse to let yourself be swayed.

“I mean it, mister.” You repeat, poking him in the chest. “Now, be a good boy and go wash up.” Ari’s eyes darken at your words. His head dips without warning as he bites your finger, sucking the digit into his mouth, making you gasp. 

“Alright, Duchess. Have it your way.” He growls once he finally deigns to release you. “You’d best be ready for me when I get back.” With that, he gives you his back as he strides off in the direction of the stairs.

“I ain’t scared of you.” You tell his retreating form, waiting until you hear his heavy footfalls sounding on the floor above you. Only then do you move, intending to finish setting up for dinner. 

‘Alright, sugar.’ You think, taking a second to fluff your curls. ‘Time to earn yourself an Oscar.’ 

Fifteen Minutes Later…

You’ve just finished hiding away what’s left of your meal when you hear Ari make his way into your tiny dining room.

“Have a seat, Beast!” You call out, hoping that the act you were about to put on was at least mildly convincing. “I–I’ll be right in.”

Blowing out a breath you snag your bounty hunter’s plate, along with a glass of wine, and head into the next room. Although he admittedly wasn’t much of a wine drinker before he met you, he tended to enjoy whatever selection you paired with your meal. 

Tonight you’d picked a lovely pinot noir.       

This time when you see him, you’re treated to the sight of a freshly showered Ari lazily sprawled in one of your slightly too small chairs. His still damp hair is pushed back off his face as he waits for you, patiently biding his time while he plans his next move.

Or so you assumed, anyway.

“Here you are.” You sing as you approach. “Tonight I bring you an expertly roasted Tuscan pork loin, complete with a garlic and mushroom risotto and french-style green beans.”

“Smells good, baby.” He absentmindedly scratches at his jaw while he surveys the mountain of food on his plate. 

“Hopefully it tastes good too.” You lean down to press a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll, uh, be right back with mine.” The handsome brute smacks your ass when you turn to depart, making you yip.      

“Hurry back.” He grunts, letting out a chuckle when he sees you trying to rub the sting out of your butt.

Seconds later you return with your food before quietly taking a seat at the table, all the while refusing to make eye contact. Picking up your napkin, you make a show of draping it across your knee, and then…

You wait. 

It doesn’t take long for Ari to notice the differences between your respective plates, and it takes even less time for him to speak on it – much to your internal satisfaction.

“What the–?” Ari pushes his plate aside so that he can get a better look at your virtually empty one. “Where the hell’s the rest of your food, baby?” His deep voice comes out deceptively soft.  

“Huh?” You cast him a sheepish glance, feigning embarrassment. “Oh this? It’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bird.” The quiet steel in his voice is impossible to miss.

“I know it wasn’t. But this was all that was left, so…” You trail off, averting your gaze in favor of using your fork to push food around your plate. “It’s fine.”

“There’s that damn word again.” You hear him grumble under his breath, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “I got news for you, Bird. It ain’t fine.” He grouses, reaching for you even as you shift away.

“But it is.” You sing, daintily fanning yourself with a napkin. 

“No it isn’t.” He sings right back, clearly not understanding your game. Which was a good thing. It meant that you two could play a little longer.  

“Look, if this is about you feeling like you need to start counting calories again…” Ari goes to rest his elbows on the table, his own meal all but forgotten. “Then please believe me when I tell you that you look phenomenal. And not just tonight, baby. I mean every night.”

You feel your cheeks heat as your body responds to his praise. That familiar warmth soon spreads, pooling in your belly while you mentally preen at his words.  

“Thank you, Ari.” 

“Oh don’t thank me, sweet girl.” His already husky voice dips another octave. “I just want you to eat.” You stifle a small shiver when the roughened pads of his fingertips lightly graze over your hand. “Now, do me a kindness and take your pretty little self back into that kitchen and fix yourself a proper plate.” 

And there it was. He thought you were lying about there not being any leftovers. He was right, of course. Just not the way he thought he was. 

“I would if I could, sugar.” You stretch out your legs beneath the table as you prepare to really sell the narrative. “Honest. But there really isn’t anything left. I…accidentally only bought one pork loin instead of two. And then I misjudged the recipe for the risotto, but that was most likely on account of the fact that I was in my feelings about the state of Herb & Twine’s green beans selection. It wasn’t very good.”

Ari doesn’t tell you this, but he’s actually impressed by your ability to speak that fast without so much as taking a breath. Instead all you receive is a gruff “uh huh” for your trouble.  

“So,” You forge on, now fully committed to the bit. “I salvaged what I could out of the meal I planned and then gave most of it to you.”

“Why?” 

Boy, he did not look happy. Which was great news for you

“Because…” You draw out the word, wincing when you belatedly notice the sudden tick in his jaw. “I just…felt like you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

“Oh.” He hums, pursing his lips as he mulls over your story. “Well, I reckon we’ll just have to fix that.”

Unsure of what he means, you open your mouth to keep talking, only to let out a shriek when Ari suddenly reaches over to grip the back of your chair to drag you, and it, over closer to him.  

“Christ, Beast!” Your hand flies to your still-heaving chest as you will your heartbeat to calm down. 

But your man’s not done yet. 

You scarcely have time to catch your breath before you’re hauled into his lap. Immediately your arms go to weave themselves around his neck to keep you from falling. Not that Ari would’ve ever allowed that to happen.

Seemingly unbothered by your rather dramatic response, Ari seeks to balance you on top of his muscled thighs as he leans over again to retrieve your plate. You watch in confusion as he unceremoniously dumps the contents onto his own dish before setting yours aside once more. 

“Hate to break it to you, Duchess.” He seamlessly adjusts your positions so that he can grasp his knife and fork. “But I don’t need all this food. So it looks like we’ll just have to share.” 

Momentarily stunned by this turn of events you can only nod as he feeds you a tender bite of pork. It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but when you finally do, it’s to utter two simple words. 

“Ari, wait.” 

“‘Fraid I’m not really in the mood to wait.” Your impatient bounty hunter warns. But he does pause his efforts, his fork hovering mere centimeters from your mouth. “You’re nuts if you think I’m the kinda man who would even consider stuffing himself while his lady sits by and starves.”

“I know.” You assure him before rearranging your body so that you’re facing him, your thighs  now straddling his hips. “And I think that’s awfully sweet.”

“Great. So how about you –”

“But since this is a prank…” The grin you’re sporting threatens to split your face in two. “It looks like you get to keep your food.”

Ari blinks back at you, his mouth briefly opening and closing in a way that very much reminds you of a fish. You feel positively giddy as you press your hands on either side of his bearded face so you can plant a kiss on his full lips while he tries, and fails, to make sense of what you just said. 

“Run that by me one more time.” His quiet snarl is enough to have you soaking your panties.

“I saw this thing on TikTok, where these women all decided to prank their boyfriends by serving them this big ol’ plate of food, while pretending to give themselves only a little bit and claiming that was all that was leftover. They filmed their reactions and posted ‘em for everyone else to see.”

“What the hell is a fuckin’ TikTok?” 

“It’s this app where you…” You pause as you try to find the right words. “Where people can, um–”

“Post dumb shit?” He quirks a tawny brow as he tries to remain serious, even though you’re also pretty sure that you just saw his lips twitch. “Come up with new and inventive ways to torture the men that love them?”

“I mean, that’s not all it is.” You take a moment to whisper kisses along his chiseled jaw. “But I guess that’s a pretty accurate description.”

“Hmph.” Your grumpy bounty hunter continues to glower at you, even as his large, warm hands move to settle on your hips. “And am I right to assume you’re recording this?”

“Maybe…” You giggle, not bothering to hide just how funny you found this all to be. “Oh – but I was never gonna post it. Promise.” 

You hold up your pinky, trying your hardest to look solemn. But the look Ari gives you lets you know that he’s done falling for your act. 

“I’m warning you, Duchess.” He grunts, lightly bouncing you on his lap. “I swear to God, if I catch myself on that fuckin’ tock clock…thing…you have my word that I’m gonna redden that ass.”

“I already told you I wasn’t gonna.” You reassure him once more, resting your forehead against his. “By the way, thanks for bein’ such a good sport about the whole thing.”

“No problem.” He flashes you a feral grin, revealing his pearly white teeth. It shoots straight to your core. “But the way I see it, you kinda owe me one. Don’t you?” He leans in close as his hands begin gently kneading your curves. 

“Um…I don’t think–” You let out a soft whimper when he drags his nose along the delicate column of your throat.

“Oh, but I do.” He nips at your jaw. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” 

“Trust me, it is.” His sensual growl has you practically shivering with need. “Which is why you’re gonna show me where you hid that camera.” His lust-filled gaze drops to your cleavage as he openly begins undressing you with his eyes.

“Now hold on a minute, Beast –” You stammer once realization dawns. 

“Aw, don’t fret.” Ari’s rueful chuckle lets you know that you will never win this battle. “You’ll have your turn to direct our little movie.” Ari suddenly stands without warning so that he can gently deposit you back in your own chair. “Especially now that I know how much you love performing for the camera.

Oh, the man had you there. Sometimes your Beast was a bit too cunning for your liking. 

“I don’t think–” You try again, now feeling shy. “What we do in the dark has no business being on film!”

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to keep the lights on. But for now, let’s get you fed.” He drops a kiss on your head before picking up your empty dish and sauntering off towards the kitchen. “We’ll talk lighting and camera angles once you’re finished.” 

Good Lord on high. What had you just gotten yourself into?

“Here we are.” Ari continues upon his return a few minutes later. He sets your down in front of you before taking your napkin and redraping it across your lap. “But I’d eat fast if I were you.”

“Um…why?” You ask, eyeing him warily. 

“Because.” He winks at you before taking a seat and enthusiastically spearing a piece of meat onto his fork. “Tonight’s dress rehearsal starts in thirty minutes.”

END

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[roseykat]

TITLE: Venom Biter

PAIRING: Minho x reader

SUMMARY: The end of a relationship between you and Minho turns as sour as it could ever get. A lovers to enemies trope.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: breakups, hate sex, post-breakup sex, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, manhandling, push and shove, spitting, choking, oral sex (f!reader receiving), angst, strong hints of degradation, use of degrading names such as 'slut' and 'whore'.

A/N: this was originally meant to be for one of the days I had planned for Kinktober but I was up to my neck in work and I didn't want to post something sort of half-assed so I had to hone down on most of the work for this piece.

MASTERLIST

“Broke up?” Chan’s eyes refuse to blink. “You two broke up!?”

His confused filled stare shoots for the direction of his best friend, Minho, who quietly sits opposite him across the table. He looks slightly withdrawn or…off colour. It can’t have been the gruelling two hour lecture they finished before heading out to lunch. If it were that, Minho would be complaining his head off saying how boring it was or cursing himself for not changing his minor earlier. 

He’s just not his usual self. In other social settings, he could talk until the cows came home. But the entire hour that they’ve spent together at lunch, Chan has been doing all the conversing and only receiving vague one-word answers. It wasn’t until he asked what was up with Minho that his friend dished out the news that he and his girlfriend - you, had split up.

“Why?” Chan proceeds, still swimming in shock.

A sigh leaves Minho’s mouth. He truly doesn’t feel like revisiting this subject. When he even thinks about the answer, all he can recall is the firey shouting match you both had the day things crumbled. 

“It’s messy,” he replies with a cloudy and ambiguous answer. 

“If you talk about it, then it might help you make sense of it all.”

He groans this time, “I really, really don’t want to do that. What’s done is done.” 

“Done?” Chan questions, still not letting up on an interrogation. “You were in a relationship with Y/N, for years. You guys talked about a whole future together. That’s not something you just sweep under the rug and forget about.”

If there’s one thing he almost did forget about, it’s that you were friends with him - not just Chan, but the seven others as well. After all, it was Minho who introduced you to those select people whom he calls his brothers. They would’ve found out eventually if Minho refrained from telling them who you were dating all those years ago.

Though naturally, you became very close with them. 

“We’ve both chosen to do that so there’s nothing really much left to dispute.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, realising he left out a crucial question to the situation, “why did you guys break up in the first place?”

Minho feels like he’s going to run out of sighs, “she doesn’t love me anymore and I don’t love her anymore. That’s literally all there is to it.” 

“You’re telling me you both fell out of love - at the same time,” Chan responds, still having a difficult time trying to comprehend his friend's situation.

“Pretty much,” Minho confirms with a nod. 

Chan finds that extremely hard to believe from his friend - the very person who would enter a different realm whenever he was in a five centimetre radius of you. His eyes would glaze over as if he were possessed; always fixated on you, he’d smile more than he usually would, and was comfortable in the space around you. 

There had to be another reason, surely. 

But it had almost been three weeks since Chan dissected the news out of Minho, and it was almost like pulling teeth trying to dive for the details. Each attempt was as fruitless as the next and in the end, Chan just plucked the same answers.

Regardless, it seemed to play out better than expected. Minho saved himself from having to dish out explanations as to why you wouldn’t be around anymore. As a result, telling Chan was the best option and since the others didn’t know, Minho was okay with him telling them so that he didn’t have to. 

In saying that, Minho left out very central details of what happened leading up to the breakup. He never mentioned the constant fighting, the lying, the false accusations, the shouting matches, up until the point where you were both swimming in the toxicity the pair of you created. 

He also absconded from the fact to Chan that not only did you both separate, but you’ve also both come to view the other differently and not through a good lens. Minho shouted it in your face the other day to which you did the same; “I hate you.” And that was that.

But his friends probably didn’t need to know all of that. 

Since that day, you’ve been in the process of trying to find an apartment for yourself which isn’t easy. You want to remain in town and not too far out so that you don’t have a long commute to work, and at the same time, you don't want to break the bank trying to find a nice place to rent in the city. All in all, it was tough, but you were ready to just leave. 

Having packed up the majority of your stuff in boxes, all you had to do was wait for landlords to contact you back about possible vacant apartments. Thankfully Minho was lenient in allowing you to stay until you found a place. 

You slept in the spare room, mainly keeping to yourself and the boxes of things surrounding the space. Occasionally you would have to lock yourself in there and throw on some noise-cancelling headphones whenever Minho brought around another woman to sleep with.

It was his house, you knew that and now that you have no ties to him and he’s letting you stay, it was never your place to question his actions. 

Still, that could never lessen the hurt. It was painful which is why you hated him so much. You don’t know how a person could move on so quickly after so many years of being told how much you’re loved. It was like he never meant it. With that being said, when you eventually managed to find a decent place, you were free from Minho. 

All of your items were ready to be moved out, taking a couple of days to actually get them to your new place. In the tiring process, you also had to factor in your work schedule which meant it would take longer to continue moving your stuff. Nonetheless, you had the majority of your boxes out of Minho's house with only a few remaining that you needed to swing by and pick up.

"Something wrong?" he wears a blank look on his face when you arrive on the doorstep to his house.

"Some of my stuff is still here, can I come in to grab it please?" You ask politely. He gives a silent answer in return by opening his door wider for you to walk in before he goes back to whatever it was he was doing.

You make your way into the spare room where the last of your things remain, but there is one odd detail you notice as you approach the items. What was supposed to be taped down lids to the boxes had in fact been opened; not in the state you had originally left it in. 

"Minho," you call out, hoping he heard you.

Sure enough, he did. Minho walks into the spare room with a puzzled expression, wondering why he's been summoned, "what?"

“Why are these open?” You ask, lifting one box off of the other to check if the rest were open as well. “Half of my stuff isn’t in here.”  

“You were coming back for those?” he replies with a question. 

“What the hell else would I be coming back here for?” 

“That's what I thought when you got here,” he says. “I thought it was for other things that you left behind, not ones in these boxes."

Your eyes never leave his face, tracking any sudden shifts in his muscles to try to figure out if he’s actually telling the truth or not. Even though you and Minho aren’t together, you're sure he wouldn't do anything malicious out of spite.

“So why is half my stuff missing?” 

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you didn’t need any of it and that you left it here on purpose for me to deal with or throw out.” 

“So what…” you trail off, expecting his answer. Minho hesitates for a few moments, sitting on the fence about whether he should actually tell you or not. But the least he can do right now is be honest. 

“I told the…girl I bought around the other day that if she wanted anything-“ 

“No you fucking didn’t.” 

“-she could have whatever was left in the boxes,” Minho finishes the rest of his sentence which would’ve been better for you not to hear. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you for leaving them behind in the first place!” Minho argues back, trying to defend himself here even though he knows he’s in the wrong. “You were gone for a few days Y/N, I thought you just left!” 

“I never left them behind! I told you how long it was going to take my things to move!” You shout at him, tears brimming your eyes. “Now my stuff…”

The hurt genuinely sets in. Minho feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest when he sees how visibly upset you are. He knows that he’s been nothing short of a dickhead within the past month and now he’s gone and made things worse. It’s no point in him now to say that it was an honest mistake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, truly.”

You shove him backwards into the dresser, knocking down some of the empty photo frames that were once homes for pictures of you and Minho, “you’re not sorry. You’re the fucking worst.”

Taken aback by your actions, Minho turns behind him to see the frames flat on the surface then looks back at you, “seriously Y/N, I would not have done that out of spite.”

“But it’s the fact that you still did it!” You raise your voice at him and shove him back again. “You didn’t bother calling or texting me about it when you should’ve!” 

Minho predicts your next move and catches your arms to stop you from pushing him back impossibly further into the dresser. He shoves you back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed which causes you to land on it behind you.

Before the surprise kicks in, Minho is kneeling on top of you, nearly straddling your lower half as he starts pinning your arms to the side of your head. Yet with a split second of momentum to break free, you struggle but manage to flip the tables and pin Minho on his back. 

You mount his hips before your mouth comes down to kiss Minho so aggressively that it takes him a moment to react. With any other woman that he’s slept with so far, he would allow them to be on top. But because it’s you, and supposedly hates your guts, not to mention his untapped pride, it’s not going to happen. So Minho fights back, kissing and biting nearly every part of your upper body in the process until you’re under him. 

He sucks large, deep, red hickies into the skin of your neck, in places where everyone would be able to see them. Minho would want people to know that you’re just a whore he uses. Especially for the next guy you sleep with who would go down on you and see the myriad of hickies that Minho would eventually put between your thighs when he rips your pants down. 

“Wanna play this fucking game with me,” he rasps before yanking down your off. 

Despite being a dickhead Minho will still eat you out for prep. But it’s not soft and teasing when he does go down on you. It’s tongue and finger fucking you until you’re dizzy from how hard you’re about to cum. It gives you the opportunity to pull and tug on his hair until his scalp starts burning, forcing you to be as vocal as you’ve ever been. 

His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot while his tongue and mouth work simultaneously. He’s always been good at giving head, but unusually better now that he’s relatively angry. In the back of your mind, you supposed it helped having not slept with anyone for a month, making it easier to reach that peak of delicious, eye-rolling ecstasy. 

“Fuck!” you scream out, voice projecting throughout the room as Minho sucks on your clit. “Fuck you…you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Those words are something Minho could never get tired of hearing you say. Even in the headspace that he’s in now, he wants nothing more than to hear how good he’s making your body feel. However, he doesn’t need verbal confirmation from you to know that you’re about to cum. When your walls seize and clamp around his fingers, when you’re trembling around his head, Minho knows what that means. 

The quick drag of his fingers is only light work for him, pumping at a pace that has you panting to try and keep up with it. As a result, it’s not long before Minho brings you to your sweet release; a toe-curling burst of euphoria that has you silently creaming around his fingers. 

He has no patience for you to descend from your orgasm, sucking his fingers clean as he pulls away from your pussy. He gets to unbuckling his belt faster than he can even comprehend that this is still happening. 

“H-Hurry,” you whine, trying to quell the hunger for Minho’s cock while you wait.

His eyes squeeze shut, hissing as he coats his length with your slick, “shut the fuck up.”

Despite being in a haze post-orgasm, you manage to sit up quickly to turn and push Minho down by his shoulders. You find yourself straddling his hips once more, reaching down and behind for his cock, aligning it with your hole. Minho allows you to work for it yourself, watching his cock vanish by the second as you sink down. 

“Mmm…f-fuck,,” you whine, unable to come to grips with how much you miss him filling you out. 

Taking a couple of slow strokes up and down allows you to realise that never in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine hate sex with Minho would be this…rough. Both of you pushing, shoving, and manhandling each other around, speaking to each other with such disregard for the other person's feelings – beyond the point of degradation.

“Come on,” Minho grunts, fingernails embedding themselves into your hips so that the indents remaining become as equally as vibrant as the hickies blooming on your neck. 

You look down at him with disgust before your hand lowers to his throat, choking him out by the sides of his neck. That familiar feeling of restriction to Minho forces him to repress his sick enjoyment of it, even more so when you start really riding him. 

“Fuck you,” you strain out, trying to assert some degree of control even though you’re battling with oversensitivity from your previous orgasm. 

You slam your hips down repeatedly, building up a good pace and rhythm that’s enough for small moans to force their way out of your mouth. With a cock like Minho’s, it’s impossible to keep quiet no matter how much you try. However, as you work for your own orgasm, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction by making him think that he’s the one doing it; yet in reality, he is. 

Nonetheless, you continue to use him just as much as he’s using you until the luxury of pleasure accelerates in the pit of your stomach. In saying that, it doesn’t take long for Minho to find that information out as you continue to ride him. The observation is clear-cut;

“Nobody’s fucked you since me haven’t they?” He asks you breathlessly, watching you roll your hips deliciously over his cock. “Know how I can tell? Because you keep fucking clenching around my dick.”

Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to find an answer for him because he is right and that’s not your fault, “s-so what? Want me to stop?” 

“Didn’t say that, did I?” He argues back, too proud to say ‘no’. “Just…just keep moving.”

A firm hand of yours catches his taut jaw, and while his mouth is open, you lean down and spit right in it. 

You curse right at him, “fuck you.” 

His eyes lock with yours and for a moment, Minho is shocked, but not in a bad way. In that moment you despised him so much that he made you do something a normal person would find disgusting. Although it’s not long before a sick smirk spreads across his face, failing to pretend as if he didn’t just enjoy that, swallowing it back. 

“Course you’d be into that you fucking whore,” he rasps, his body jolting every time your hips slam down. 

“I’m not the whore who’s taking it,” you snipe back at him. 

Your comment riles Minho, resulting in him nearly bucking you off his body before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanks both of your hands behind your back as something for him to latch onto when he pushes his cock back into you, and starts fucking hard and fast. 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. 

The new angle makes his dick slip in just that extra bit deeper, achieving a sensation which you miss all too much. With the amount of relentlessness that Minho puts behind his thrusts is nothing but a fast, brutal, and unforgiving type of fucking. He’s not holding back with you, no matter how much you hate him and he hates you, he will fuck you to tears.

“Such a fucking slut,” he drives forward nastily. “Needy, loud, slut.” 

Your choked moans and whimpers are typical responses to hearing him call you that name again. In bed, if you weren’t his lover, you were his slut. Minho wouldn’t care less if the bed broke beneath him trying to fuck you like the whore you always wanted him to treat you as. But it was phenomenal.  

Now, that’s only a distant memory clawing to come back. 

“Make me cum…make me fucking cum,” you demand, acknowledging how close you are to the cliff of ecstasy.

Minho's breathing picks up from hearing the pure desperation in your voice, and so does his pace. His only release is not but a minute away, respecting that and also his motive to continue rearranging your guts. 

Yet the possibility of keeping up any longer draws to a short term. Minho’s hold on your wrists behind your back becomes a solid death grip with no chance of escape until the wet heat from your pussy has his hips jumping out of rhythm. 

His head tilts to the sky, the pleasure screaming at him from the base of his cock, “y-yes, fuck I'm cumming.”

At that very instant, Minho’s release rocks him over. His hands let go of yours in lieu of grabbing onto your ass instead. The pain and sting of his fingernails scraping deep into your flash forces strained whimpers and mewls from your throat, helping to push you over the verge of your second orgasm. 

“Y-Yes, cumming, oh fuck-” you cry out with a shaky voice, stiffening while your hole seizes rhythmically around Minho’s length. 

The pleasure is throat-gripping, making you forget the words to express how good you feel. Except, in the vapour of your orgasmic haze, you still don't want to accept the fact that it's Minho who makes you feel that way.

He pauses for a moment then thrusts hard back into you, making you keep the warm load that you were so undeservingly given, regardless if your walls are spasming and contracting it out. Then just as he was fast to try to get inside you, he's just as fast when he pulls out and flops beside you.

The air in the room becomes breathable again now that your heart rate isn't racing to the heavens, but picks back up quickly when you decide to hop off the bed and get dressed. You couldn't care less if you were sore and unbalanced. The thought of staying in the room with Minho any longer was suffocating.

“About your stuff,” he starts, filling the silent void with an exasperated voice. “I’ll try to get it back.” 

You zip your jeans up, “don’t bother. I know you did give it away for whatever reason, but for what reason is something I’m betting you’ll take to the grave with you.” 

Minho is up and now following suit by putting his clothes on. If now is the time to get one thing off of his chest, it’s now. Since the day you both separated, there has been no proper conversation. Both of you are too stubborn to admit wrongs and fix rights, but in your eyes, it's too far gone. There’s no going back to a good thing that was once more. 

"I won't if we can just talk it out," he offers the opportunity to you.

“Minho, the nights that I had to listen to you fuck someone else in the next room right after we just broke up was a clear sign that we did not need to talk it out. All it made me do is realise that you didn't actually love me."

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head as you hear a twinge of desperation in his voice like he's pleading his case. "That's not true at all."

"It is though," you correct him. "You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted to because we had broken up at that point, but not a day after that did you wait."

Minho follows through with his explanation, “I was trying to get you out of my head. Spending too long just thinking about you makes me want to lose it. It didn't mean that I never loved you before."

“So you’re just going to continue being delusional? To fuck your way through trying to forget me?” You question, nearly laughing. "I honestly think you're just being pathetic."

He shrugs, “if it means that I don’t have to feel heartbreak, then yes.”

Part of you gets it. Minho’s found a vice and is using it as a tool to deal with his pain. But you’re in pain too, and you haven’t done anything to upset him ever since you split. Maybe it is as bad for him as he says it is. Maybe he doesn’t truly know how to navigate himself out of this like you’re attempting to.

It’s almost a rebuttal to your statement about whether he truly loved you or not; if he’s using other people to drive the thought of you out of his brain because it’s too painful to deal with, then maybe you were more than just a lover to him. 

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I cannot stand being around you anymore because of how much it hurts to know that you're not actually with me. I'd rather try to forget your existence in order to not feel that type of heartbreak," Minho explains, his words coming from a place inside him that must've just opened up.

But he continues, "the second we split, I needed every last memory of you out of this house. But I know that this hurts you too and that this past month I’ve hurt you and that’s no justification to say that my reason is because you mean more than my entire life.”

There’s an ache in your chest that you’ve never felt before, a blend of all the emotional pain that could’ve been prevented had the two of you just talked. But that ache is fuelled by the fact that you can hear the waiver in Minho’s voice, and even though his back is still turned to you while he sits on the edge of the bed, you’re sure he’s crying.

-

A/N: Dare I say that I want to make a part 2 to this where Minho and reader try to rekindle, things are pretty tender but they sort of want to make it work...

[exactlymaximumgarden]

117 w/schlatt! 🩵

117. interrupt - the garden (link to req info here)

ted's vision might not be 20/20, but his hindsight sure is. and now, as he sits between you and schlatt on the chuckle sammy set, he realizes that maybe letting you be this week's guest wasn't the best idea.

it's not any fault of your own, of course. schlatt had been the one to propose the idea in the first place. the two of you had been dating for quite some time now but only recently decided to hard launch considering you both valued your privacy. and so, in light of the launch, schlatt had eagerly asked ted if he could invite you on the podcast's upcoming episode.

"c'mon, ted!" he'd so desperately pleaded. "the viewers are gonna want us to talk about it eventually. (y/n) would make a great guest, too. y'know that!"

it's true. you and ted have been longtime friends due to schlatt introducing you two. the chemistry is all-around great, so naturally he had no qualms with you coming on the podcast. that is, until now, as he watches you and schlatt lightheartedly bicker among each other.

"wait! just- don't speak."

"just let me speak!"

"you cut me off!"

"guys!" ted finally cuts in, his voice laced with an almost bewildered laugh. "may i remind you that literally all i asked was how you two met. you've been arguing over the smallest details for the last, fuckin'..." he briefly checks his watch. "seven minutes. this has been going on for seven minutes."

"yo! not my fault (y/n)'s memory sucks ass," schlatt retorts, an impish grin adorning his features.

"my memory sucks?" you gasp at your boyfriend, feigning offense as your jaw drops. "you've been telling the story all wrong this whole time!"

"maybe 'cause you've been interrupting me, toots. i get distracted!"

it's obvious this is all playful banter. still, ted waves a hand dismissively. "fuckin' christ, you two. forget i asked! how 'bout we revisit this question when you guys have a consistent narrative of how it happened, alright?"

"fine by me," schlatt responds slyly. he wiggles his brows at you. "that okay with you, doll?"

"perfect." you stick your tongue out at him.

ted is satisfied with this response. he's quick to redirect the conversation, spitting out a slew of topics at you. you're doing your best to keep up with him, but your train of thought is still continually disrupted by schlatt. however, this time, it's through the text notifications you see popping up from him on your lockscreen.

>> schlutt 💙: just fyi i totally would've kissed you to shut you up if we weren't recording rn >> schlutt 💙: thought you oughta know

from across the table, he can see your face heat up as you read the notifications. meanwhile, you're doing your best to discreetly type out your responses.

>> (y/n): thanks brah >> schlutt 💙: yo lock in >> schlutt 💙: i see you reading these u ain't slick >> (y/n): fuck u >> (y/n): u keep distracting me boy stfu >> (y/n): this is a setup >> schlutt 💙: ok >> (y/n): u are my #1 opp >> (y/n): hard left can i get that kiss later tho >> schlutt 💙: obviously

[hey-august]

Word count: Just under 1k Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, mentions of masturbation, sex, and oral.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Buggy who is surprisingly good at drawing.

Buggy who doodles all the time. Ugly little caricatures of people who piss him off. Goofy scribbles of bits that make him laugh. Potential skits. 

Buggy who scrawls on the margins of paper, the corner of napkins, anywhere he can relieve the itch in his hands.

Buggy who designs costumes for his crew. Colored pencils and oil pastels bring the flashy couture to life.

Buggy who carries a small sketchbook in his coat. Deckle edged paper wrapped in leather, perfect for practicing pencil sketches and graphite drawings as he observes the crew.

Buggy who doesn’t share the drawings in his sketchbook, though. Some had to learn the hard way not to look over his shoulder.

Buggy who realizes too late that you are overtaking his personal pages. What started as small forms to study pose and movement grew larger, capturing more of your essence.

Buggy who becomes obsessed with capturing the small details. How your nose crinkles when you laugh. The sneer in your lips when you’re pissed. The way you rake your fingers through your hair when you try to calm yourself.

Buggy who gets curious late one night. Curious and desperate.

Buggy who draws you from memory and fueled by his filthy imagination. The soft sound of pencil scraping along the paper is comforting.

Buggy who fills a page with you in compromising positions. The lewd expressions you might wear. What he thinks you’d look like split on his cock. Or mouth open, begging to have your face fucked. His hands gripping your plush thighs.

Buggy who fucks himself to the hand-drawn porn and cums all over the page.

Buggy who feels guilty and burns the soggy drawings, as best he can. It takes a few frustrating tries and he panics, even though no one is around.

Buggy who tries to ignore those feelings. Trying to draw anything except you. But everything looks like shit now. Proportions are off. He presses too hard when sketching, unable to erase the stark lines. Even his doodles lack life.

Buggy who gives in and scribbles you in the corner of his sketchbook before moving on to something else. And it works. His movements flow better. A weight is lifted off his chest.

Buggy who eventually caves to the nighttime muse once more. Filling another perverted page with the obscene images flooding his mind. This time, he doesn’t ruin the drawings with jizz or fire.

Buggy who revisits that page frequently. Adds to that page. Convinces himself that it’s okay, it’s not hurting anyone. In fact, it helps him by taking away other urges.

Buggy who eventually manages to misplace his sketchbook. He fucking lost it.

Buggy who doesn’t want to bring attention to his lost treasure. If he says it’s missing, some freaks might find it and look through the pages. They’ll realize what a pathetic loser he is.

Buggy who frantically retraces his footsteps, barking orders to keep everyone away from him. 

Buggy who finally finds it in the hallway just outside his room. The book must have fallen out of his pocket and laid mostly out of sight with the brown leather blending into the wooden floor.

Buggy who is relieved. It doesn’t look like the book had been touched or moved. Even the leather string is still wound around the sketchbook tightly.

Buggy who needs to get back to other duties after sloughing them off most of the day. He’s still on edge, reading into everyone’s interactions. No one acts differently, adding to the relief that no one knows about his perversions.

Buggy who doesn’t open the sketchbook until the end of a very long day. Who waits until he’s alone and in his room.

Buggy whose stomach lurches at the note peeking out of one of the pages. A page devoted to your smile. A note with your handwriting. “This is so impressive! I look so happy”

Buggy who slams the sketchbook shut and starts to pace around the room. Fuck. Did you find it first? Did you look through it? Why? What else did you see? What else did you see?

Buggy who freezes at the thought. Who stares at the awful book, as if it would pipe up and tell him in a fluttery voice.

Buggy who grabs the book and roughly throws it into a drawer, ready to lock up his feelings. Ready to deal with his unhealthy actions with more unhealthy actions.

Buggy who tries to go to bed but can’t sleep. He lays in bed surrounded by a carousel of thoughts. Of fear. And anxiety.

Buggy who sends over a hand to retrieve the damn book. He has to know. He’ll die if he doesn’t find out.

Buggy who can feel his hands shake with each heartbeat as he thumbs through the book, looking for more notes.

Buggy who feels both calmed and excited as he finds your commentary on a few more innocuous pages. Praises for his skill and appreciation for scenes he captured.

Buggy who finally flips to the page. That one.

Buggy who’s afraid to read the note you left there. But he does. “Want to collaborate one day?”

Buggy whose stomach and heart are in knots. 

Buggy who keeps reading. “I’d like to see what you look like too.”

Buggy who shows up at your door, panting and red faced. Sketchbook in hand.

Buggy who trails his fingers along your face as he fucks into you, commiting each detail to memory. The shape of your mouth with each moan. Your lust-filled eyes. The little teeth marks left after you bite your lips.

Buggy who can’t help but stare at your sex-tired body. Chest heaving. Glistening.

Buggy who still wants to taste you. To taste himself on you. Who uses his mouth and tongue to memorize more of your body.

Buggy who is surprisingly good at drawing and collaborating.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A/N: Just want to highlight this line bc I love it "This time, he doesn’t ruin the drawings with jizz or fire."

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Loved the “Arthur misunderstands what a warlock is" au! I completely get it if you’re done with that one and want to move on to the next idea, but I’d be very curious to read how the rest react to finding out how wrong they were? Perhaps some guilt as Arthur realises what he forced Merlin to do? But again, completely get it if you’re done! Thank you for sharing to begin with!

Thank you so much! I'll probably revisit the "Arthur misunderstands what a warlock is" au later on to write the aftermath of Arthur's terrible misunderstanding. It might be a while before I get to it since I have a lot of other au ideas that I want to share, but I will do a part 3 for that au eventually! In the meanwhile, I can say that Arthur is definitely having a rough time with his guilt, but also questioning why Merlin went along with it in the first place. I imagine that conversation would go something like this:

"If you thought that I was some soul eating beast, why the hell would you sacrifice prisoners?! Why would you do something so horrible for someone you saw as a monster?"

"Because you're still you, Merlin! And even when I believed such awful things about warlocks, I couldn't see you as anything but the kind-hearted fool who's the strongest man I know but still cries when he sees a baby deer! Despite everything, I couldn't see you as anything other than my closest friends, and I didn't want to lose you to some terrible hunger when I knew that I could provide for you, however horrible the method was!"

But Arthur's also feeling incredibly guilty that he had also abused Merlin's complete trust in him that way. What did it say about how deeply Merlin trusted Arthur if, from Merlin's perspective, Arthur had randomly commanded him to kill two men, to bloody his own hands, for no given reason, and Merlin still did as Arthur asked. Merlin would go to such lengths simply because Arthur commanded it, and wasn't that just an awful thing for Arthur to think about?

I'll end this for now, but this au will return (after I've posted a couple of new au ideas)!

Thanks for the question! :D

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part VI

Part VI is finally here! I’m enjoying writing this mini series so much, I love my boys! Things might be going a bit slower now that spring break is up, but I promise to update as frequently as possible. Part VII is already half way written! I hope you enjoy, and as always, heed the tags.

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VII Part VIII Part IX

Word Count: 1724

Your eyes narrowed at Stu, wondering why the usually laid back loud mouth was suddenly tensing from your surprise. “Yeah, he called me last night about it too, asked if he thought our professor would let him retake the exam,” he added in, pulling his gaze away from you before looking to Tatum. “Damn, I hope he feels better, tell him that for me, will you Sid?” She asked as Sidney nodded, “I will. Well, you should be heading to class, shouldn’t you?” She asked, looking to you and Stu, “Yeah, I don’t want the professor locking me out again,” Stu said as you gave a nod. “I’ll see you guys later,” you said to the girls before you and Stu headed off for class.

“What were you staring at me for earlier,” you questioned Stu, making him look down at you in surprise. “What do you mean?” He asked as you sighed, “you looked like I was gonna find out some big secret about Billy, like him cheating on Sid or that he’s ghostface,” you said half jokingly, making Stu chuckle. “Billy’s no killer, he may-“ “yeah yeah, may have crazy eyes but he’s no killer, you’ve said that already.” You said as he looked down, shaking his head. “Can we drop this until after the exam?” He asked, holding the door open for you.

Once you were sat down in your usual spot, you messaged Billy, shooting him a text about where he was. His response was that you sounded just like his dad, even sending you a picture of a paper with a doctors excuse for todays exam, telling you to just calm down and focus on your test. You felt better, feeling the stirring in your stomach calming down, but you had to admit Stu scared you for a second. You were crazy for thinking the killer was Billy, shaking your head at yourself for even thinking it. Not only would it be crazy, but that would also mean you unknowingly betrayed one of your best friends, Sidney. The thought made you feel guilty just for thinking it, sighing as you put your phone away to go over your notes before the test started. Whoever they were, you hoped they were safe and not dead in the woods somewhere.

After class you didn’t see Tatum or Sidney, wondering if they had another class that you had forgotten about today. You had left Stu behind, not forgetting about your promise to revisit the conversation from earlier but you just felt like you needed a moment to breathe before continuing it. You looked to your side, smiling as you saw one of the guys from your class. “Hey, hard test today, huh,” he said as you gave a little laugh and nodded. “Yeah, I think I did okay, but I’m probably a long ways away from a hundred,” you joked as he laughed. “If you ever need help, I’d be happy to have a study date with you,” he offered, flashing you a smile as you blushed. Your hand rubbed over your backpack strap, looking to him and humming, “a study date?” You asked as he stuttered, “well- not like a date date, just a study one…unless you would like the offer of a real date,” he said as you smiled. A few weeks ago you may have accepted, but you had two secret lovers now, two homicidal secret lovers. “Thanks but-“ you frowned when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling down your turtle neck with their index finger. “She’s taken, Bailey, but we do appreciate your offer,” you heard Stu say as the other furrowed his brows. “Stuart? Aren’t you with Tatum?” He questioned as Stu laughed, “I am, but the little vixen here has a secret boyfriend, and we’re ninety percent sure they’re the killer so I would get to running if I were you,” he said, the other noticeably stiffening before walking off.

“Stu!” You yelled, pushing his shoulder to get him off of you. “What? I’m just telling the truth,” he said as you scoffed. “It is none of your business, and I wasn’t even going to accept! You didn’t have to scare him,” you huffed out at him, as he laughed. “You’re right, your ghostface boyfriend would’ve taken care of him instead,” he teased you, making a stabbing motion at you as you rolled your eyes. “Whatever, if I find him dead tomorrow my first suspect is you,” you joked as he smirked, “I’m honored,” he chuckled, putting his arm around your shoulder again. “I’m having a party tomorrow tonight, Tate is sending the troops to recruit, wanna come by?” He asked as you nodded, “good, her and Sid are out shopping for the food and stuff, wanna come with me and Billy for beers?” He hummed, you looking up to him, “isn’t Billy half dead?” You asked jokingly as Stu shook his head. “He was, said he’s better now,” he hummed as you nodded. “Drop me off at my house so I can change and drop my backpack off,” you said as he agreed.

You sighed as Stu once again turned up the stereo in the car, you sitting and praying that Billy would beat Macher up for ruining your eardrums at your young age as he walked to the car. “Stu, lower that shit down, half the town can hear it,” Billy said as he hopped in, Stu laughing and lowering it a little. “You two really sound alike, you know,” he said as he started off for the liquor store. “Feeling any better, Billy?” You asked as you turned his way, smiling a little when he answered yes. “You know I half thought you were the killer, Sid said one of Oliver’s friends got a stab at him yesterday,” you said jokingly, noticing the boys looking at each other before Stu burst into laughter. “He may have crazy eyes like one but Billy is no killer,” Stu said as Billy chuckled, “Yeah, just got food poisoning from shitty hall food is all. I’m going on a pure diet of frozen food now,” he said as he sat back and ran his hand over his face. “Maybe the beer will help you feel even better then, or at least make you forget you’re sick,” you joked.

The first stop was a bulk store to buy the beers, although Stu was loaded he didn’t enjoy spending the money on expensive stuff knowing other college kids were just most likely going to spill it on his floors. You pushed the cart as they boys walked on either side of you, Stu talking about the exam and giving Billy the answers he knew. “You know, Stu had me half believing you were the killer this morning,” you said jokingly, both boys heads whipping towards you. “Oh really, why is that?” Billy questioned you as he gave a glare to Stu. “I thought it was kinda weird to hear you were sick. I’ve known you for a year and you’ve never even gotten a cold, even fucking allergies. Then this one goes all bug eyed on me like I just found out a deep dark secret,” you said as Billy chuckled. “So why did that make you think it was me,” he hummed as he continued to walk, Stu stopping the basket as Billy held the freezer door open as Stu grabbed the beer cases.

“Didn’t Tate tell you guys? The killer was stabbed last night. I heard Weathers this morning reporting it, they managed to kill two of the guys but the other two fought back. One actually stabbed ghostface, I thought you were claiming to be out sick because you secretly got stabbed last night.” You admitted as Billy laughed. “Well you saw my doctors note, couldn’t have been me, the cops were out at all the hospitals last night and this morning,” he claimed as you nodded, “yeah.” You let the boys pile the beer cases into the cart, pointing to a case of hard lemonade. “What’s with you and spiked lemonade?” Stu asked as he grabbed a case and put it in with the others. “I like alcohol, I just don’t like tasting it,” “you sound like a kid,” Billy laughed as you pouted.

After you all made a stop at the liquor store to buy harder alcohol, you were sat in the backseat of the car as Billy and Stu fought over what song to play next. Billy eventually one, playing Romeo’s Distress over the speakers. “So, how are you feeling with the whole Oliver things? Pretty creepy since we were talking about him before he, you know, got gutted,” Stu said as Billy shot him a glare. “Um, sad I guess, I don’t know. It just feels…weird, you know?” You said as Stu asked you how, making you shrug. “I mean, it’s sad but…I guess cause he made my life hell for so long I just feel kinda…I don’t know,” you mumbled, recalling all the times Oliver had humiliated you.

A silence washed over the three of you, you fiddled around with the sleeves of your jacket, looking up when you saw Billy looking at you. “Hey well, at least he won’t hurt you anymore,” he said, gently touching your face. You paused for a moment, stunned by his touch. “Jesus, you’re a fucking corpse, Loomis,” you said as you brushed his hand off.

Stu drove you to your house, sighing when you saw news reporters waiting. “Probably want a statement from a survivor,” you grumbled, shaking your head. “Can I crash at one of yours for tonight?” “What, don’t want to be questioned about your boyfriend?” Stu joked as you let out a sarcastic laugh, “haha, very funny. No, I don’t want to do some janky interview about a killer they’re never going to find.” You huffed as Stu started to drive again.

“Why do you say that?” Billy asked as you shrugged, “five people dead and all they have to go off of is some footprint in a size half the town wears? They’re fucked,” you said with a huff. “Besides, ghostface is way too smart for that, they’re probably pinning it all on someone right now,” you mumbled as you sat back in your seat and relaxed.

[ardafanonarch]

maybe a silly one: thoughts on crablor?

Crab-Lore

For those who have yet to encounter him, “Crablor” is a portmanteau of “Crab” and “Maglor”, i.e., the crab Maglor became after his many ages of wandering the shores in pain and regret. Crablor is fanon. It was born here.

As @faustandfurious wrote in that very post there is no canon about Maglor’s eventual fate. (You can read about the various ways Maglor ended, or didn’t, here).

But the idea of Elven crabification in general does have some basis in canon!

In his writings on Elven fading in Morgoth’s Ring, Tolkien talks about the fëa (spirit) consuming the hröa (body):

As ages passed the dominance of their fëar ever increased, 'consuming' their bodies (as has been noted). The end of this process is their 'fading', as Men have called it; for the body becomes at last, as it were, a mere memory held by the fëa; and that end has already been achieved in many regions of Middle-earth, so that the Elves are indeed deathless and may not be destroyed or changed. The History of Middle-earth Vol. 10: Morgoth’s Ring, The Later Quenta Silmarillion, ‘Laws B’ (p. 219)

This was not, however, Tolkien’s last thought on the matter. In a marginal note on the entry for hröa published in the linguistic journal Parmasan Eldalamberon (Vol. 12), Tolkien revisits the metaphysical implications of Elven fading:

What of a hröa that resists fading? It is not then consumed by the fëa, but compressed by the process of containing it; by which it will in time be overcome, though at great expense to the strength of the fëa, for this at last takes possession of the changed hröa as its ‘casement’.

What?

This note Tolkien clearly did not intend to be seen or interpreted by anyone but himself, and its meaning is rather opaque. What he seems to be describing, however, is a slow process of shrinking and shapeshifting, from body to “casement”, in cases where a hröa resists fading.

Casement as in… shell? As in… exoskeleton? Elves who resist fading become crabs?

Okay, so that probably wasn’t what Tolkien meant, but I can find nothing to contradict it. Let us assume, for our amusement, that the hröa - casement transformation is, or can be, into a crab.

The next question is: Might Maglor have resisted fading?

If one imagines his fate in the published Silmarillion as self-punitive (a reading supported by the alternate versions in which he does in fact commit suicide like Maedhros), it would makes sense that he might resist fading as a sort of release from his punishment. Or perhaps the metaphysics of the Oath had some interference in his ability to fade in the usual fashion.

In which case, Maglor may very well have been one of the Elves who became a crab. Or something like it.

ETA: Happy April Fool's.

[moonlightndaydreams]

Room 143 | idol!han x fem!reader \ part 6

1k followers celebration story

If someone had told you that you would have one night with Han Jisung, you would have laughed in their face.

Read Part 1 here | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Delulu! Absolute delulu! Last year I wrote a little fic about y/n going to the concert and by chance having a night of passion with the yummy Han Jisung. I thought it might be nice to revisit it with a rework (the original had an original female character but I’m changing it to y/n).

CW: unprotected p in v, oral sex, light choking, angst.

Han squinted as he opened his eyes to the glaring morning sun streaming through the crack in the blinds.

Where the fuck am I? He rubbed his eyes as the memory of last night’s events came back to him.

He registered the limbs that were wrapped around his body, and sighed in relief. It was real. It wasn’t a dream, he thought as he turned his gaze to to woman in his arms. Fast asleep. You must have tired yourself out. He chuckled to himself and stroked your hair, moving it out of your face.

You were older than he was, he was sure. A Noona. He wondered how old you were. Twenty-nine, thirty maybe? It didn’t matter though, did it? This could never go anywhere anyway. All he knew for sure was that he lost his capacity for commonsense and self-control when he was near you.

His muscles tensed as you stirred and eventually opened your bleary eyes.

“Hey, baby.” He whispered. You blinked several times to wake yourself up properly, then leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. His skin burned at the touch and a warmth spread from his chest to the rest of his body. Imagine waking up to someone like this everyday? He pushed that thought away immediately. He had another concert to think about.

Shit, the concert. Fuck, what time was it?

Panicked, he glanced around the room trying to locate his pants where he kept his phone. “What time is it?” he cried.

“10 o’clock.” You answered looking at your phone.

“Fuck!” He sprang out of bed, scrambling for his clothes. Frantically, he searched his pockets and eventually pulled out his phone.

Nine missed calls. Fuck, he was in trouble. He unlocked his phone to see who exactly had been calling him. Five calls from Chan, three from Changbin and one from… He remembered what he had done last night.

Guilt replaced the panic he felt, and as he dressed he peeked over at you, sitting propped up on the bed watching him with a worried expression. It was a bad idea to have your number. It was a bad idea to leave the door of possibility open.

“Y/n?” He said “I have to go. I’m late.” He choked and gestured at his phone.

You nodded in understanding and smiled, but he didn’t miss the solemn expression that appeared on your face for just a fraction of a second.

He felt like he’d been kicked in the guts and his eyes began to prickle. His mind, his fight or flight response, the adrenaline coursing through him, they were all screaming at him to hurry the fuck up and get where he supposed to be.

But his heart, his fucking heart, rooted him to the spot, paralyzing him.

You bit your lip and looked at him with hazy eyes, and he felt like he was being magnetized towards you. It was like something in you had reached out and grabbed onto his heart and was literally pulling him to you.

He didn’t know how, but the next thing he knew he was sitting by you on the bed, cupping your face in his, and kissing you like his life depended on it. You explored each other’s mouths, their tongues dancing together, trying to memorize the feeling and the taste. He felt himself getting hard again.

You reached down towards his rapidly growing erection with one hand, your other hand cupped his cheek “Can I take care of you first?” You gazed at him longingly. 

“Baby… I’m not sure there’s time…I’m going to need to be quick…” You put a finger to his mouth to quieten him.

“I want to take care of you… will you let me?” His heart began to pound. How could he say no? He wanted to stay for as long as possible. He wanted to stay forever. He wanted to forget about commitments, schedules and work. He was tired. He was lonely. He needed connection outside of his band mates.

He nodded. It was all he could do. Despite knowing that he should have already left, he stood next to the bed while you made quick work of undoing his pants.

“You shouldn’t have bothered getting dressed.” You teased, freeing his cock.

He knew he didn’t have the biggest or thickest dick in the world, but he knew it was pretty. Well as pretty as cocks could be, and he loved the way your eyes widened as you admired it hungrily.

All thought left him when you took him in your hand and licked the leaking pre-cum from his tip. 

“Fuck, Baby!” He hissed in surprise.

You looked up at him. “Use me.” You said. Han blinked. “Fuck my face…Do it how it feels good for you…I want to take care of you… I know you need to be quick…Please...I want to take it. I trust you.” The last part was whispered.

You opened your mouth for his cock, locking your eyes on his as he slid himself into your mouth. 

“Fuck!” He sucked in a sharp breath.

You giggled around his dick sending shivers through his entire body. Your mouth felt so good that he couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to, and he began thrusting himself in and out of your mouth fast.

Your eyes watered as he assaulted the back of your throat. For a split second he worried that he was too much, that he was going too hard, but when you reached around to cup his ass and pull him in deeper into your mouth, he let go completely, ramming himself into you with abandon before releasing himself down your throat. 

He pulled out and knelt down on the floor in front of you bringing you in for a kiss. He needed to kiss you. He needed to be close to you. He didn’t even care that you hadn’t completely finished swallowing his cum and that he could taste it in your mouth.

“Baby…” He reluctantly broke the kiss. “Did I hear you right, you will still be here tonight?” he said hopefully.

You brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Yes, Han. I’ll still be here tonight.”

His breath hitched at the possibility of seeing you again, but then he remembered. He had commitments after the show, and he didn’t know how long that would take.

“Y/n, baby… I really wanna see you again tonight.” He kissed your cheek, then nibbled your ear, drawing a slight shiver from you. “Could I? Would it be okay?” His hand explored your stomach and drifted up to cup your breast. You leaned into him humming in approval. “Yes, Han… You still have to make love to me remember.” You grinned sheepishly.

“Oh you heard me say that huh?” He said, turning beet red.

“Mmm. I did… it made me come… actually.” It was your turn to burn red.

He raised an eyebrow “Really?” he was surprised. He was convinced you'd think it was cheesy. Then for another long moment he kissed you again.

“Hey…” His tone turned serious. “I have to do some things…after the show… and I’m not sure how late I will get here. But I’ll come. I promise. I just don’t know how what time it will be… I hope…”

“Han Jisung!” You took his face in your hands. “It’s okay. I’ll wait for you.” You beamed that beautiful warm smile, and Han felt himself relax.

You stood up and climbed off the bed and he drank in your naked form as you sauntered over to the coffee table.

“Here.” You held out a keycard for the hotel room. “They gave me two of these at check in…” You trailed off, handing him the card.

Han looked at the rectangle piece of plastic in his hand, and then looked at you with a hopeful gaze.

“Just let yourself in when you get here.”

-------------

You didn’t tell Han that you were going to the concert that night. You didn’t want to give him the chance to offer you special treatment, or take more of his attention when he needed to focus on his actual job. You imagined the disapproving glares you would have got from his fellow band members when they realized that you were the reason he was late to his schedule.

No, today you would stay out of his way.

After he left, you went back to bed for a bit longer to try and get a little more sleep, but the events of last night kept running over and over through your head. That was so wild. It seemed that Han fucking Jisung knew how to unlock parts of you that you never knew were locked up!

You reached down between your thighs and touched yourself. You were slightly tender, and the contact from your fingers sent a shiver through you. He'd felt so perfect inside you. It sounded so cliche but it was as if he was made for you.

What are you saying? Of course he isn’t made for you! He lives in another country. He is far too young for you. He’s a fucking idol for Christ's sake!

You let out a big, loud sigh. Get up, y/n. Pull yourself together.

You gathered the used toys and went into to the bathroom to clean them up. A smirk plastered on your face as you washed the silver-fluffy-tail plug, carefully holding the fluffy tail out the water. Han Jisung you are going to be a hard man to forget.

——

The day passed so painfully slow. Every time you thought you were distracted, your mind would either wander to the activities of last night, or to the possibilities of what was to come later that night.

Those thoughts were okay. It was the intrusive thoughts that bothered you somewhat. In the cafe you imagined Han sitting in the seat across from you trying to feed you a piece of cake, wide eyed and silly. When you were walking outside the strip of shops you imagined Han by your side, arm linked with yours as you browsed shops and bought each other gifts. When you were in the Uber you imagined you were going to see your boyfriend perform on stage.

You felt a rush of adrenaline when you arrived at the venue, the energy amongst Stays was buzzing. You took your seat, this time further away than the evening before, and took a deep breath.

He’s not your boyfriend. He’s an idol. He is unattainable.

He is just a bit of fun.

It’s an unforgettable experience. One I will never forget.

He just wants to get his rocks off. It’s not about you.

He says he wants to make love to me.

He’ll probably just fuck you again. If he turns up at all.

I gave him my key card. He’s going to come to me tonight.

He might not.

Shut up and just enjoy the show.

The concert was amazing as expected. This time you got to hear Changbin’s solo “Mirror Mirror”, and Chan looked like was almost going to cry when he said is ending speech.

Han was his usual energizer bunny self. Where did this man get his energy, considering what he got up to last night?

You were almost going to cry too. It was all going to be over too soon, and you weren't talking about the concert.

——

Anticipation buzzed through you as you laid in bed that night. Han fucking Jisung was going to be there soon.

But the hours passed and he still hadn’t arrived. You tossed and turned restlessly. Part of you was waiting to hear the door. Part of you felt agitated that you couldn’t fall asleep. You cared too much about whether or not he turned up and it made you angry with yourself.

Where was he?

See he isn’t coming.

Yes he will, you’ll see.

Just go to sleep.

You eventually resigned yourself to the possibility that he might not come at all, and eventually you did fall asleep.

——

Han was distracted and fidgety after the show. He had to do some official work with the other members, but all he could think about was when he could go to you. Were you waiting for him? Did you think he wasn’t coming?

Once they had wrapped things up Hyunjin took Han to the side. “Hannie, bro, what’s going on with you?” he whispered. “It’s that Noona isn’t it?”

Han dropped his head but didn’t say anything.

“It is!” Hyunjin blew out a loud breath. “Did you sleep with her last night?”

Han lifted his head to meet his friend’s eyes and nodded. “I…She… she makes me feel…” he drifted off, he wasn’t sure how he could narrow down everything he felt into one word.

“Comforted?” Hyunjin offered, wrapping an arm around Han’s shoulder.

Yes. Comforted. That was the perfect way to describe it. But he felt a myriad of other feelings too. Safe. Warm. Euphoric. Complete. Satisfied. Insatiable. But comforted? That resonated with him the most.

“She does. She makes me feel really good. She helped me forget about the pressure… the stress…” he smiled just at the thought of you. But his smile disintegrated when he thought about the reality of the situation. You could never be his, as much as he wanted to pretend that you could.

“Shh… It’s okay.” He soothed. “Are you going to go to her tonight too?”

“I know I shouldn’t, Hyung” Han sobbed.

Han leaned his head against Hyunjin’s chest and Hyunjin wrapped his arms around him entirely, holding him in a strong embrace.

He stroked Han’s hair affectionately. “Hannie. I think you’d regret it more if you didn’t go to her tonight.”

----

Han’s nerves skyrocketed as approached room 143. This was going to be his last chance with you. He wanted to make it count. He wanted to make it a night to remember. He wanted to memorize every single thing that was about to happen so he could draw upon it again and again.

He stood outside your room and took a deep breath. This is it Jisung. He nervously pulled the key card out of his pocket and studied it for a moment. Was this the right thing to do? He silently told his brain to shut the fuck up, and with a shaky hand opened your door and slipped inside.

He moved quietly, shedding his clothing and slid into bed beside you. You were asleep and you were…naked. He scooched up to spoon you, pressing his entire body against yours, and nuzzled his face into your shoulder.

He didn’t want to wake you, but he also didn’t want to lose a moment either. He was leaving the country tomorrow. He slowly peppered light kisses along your neck and shoulder, and his hand delicately stroked your arm as it made it’s way down to caress your hip. He pressed his hardening length against your ass, the pressure against his cock made him release a shaky breath and bite his bottom lip. He explored your body with a slow and gentle touch while his mouth continued to nip at your neck. He felt your breath change from a slow, steady rhythm to shallow gasps, and as you woke you started to push your ass back against him.

Han pulled away, allowing you to roll onto your back, and he moved to hover over you, holding himself up with his arms either side of you.

“You’re here?” you said wearily. 

“Yes baby. I came as soon as I could… I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you for a kiss. It was like he’d been gone for a month. Your mouth devoured him, your hungry tongue searching for his.

“I need to see you… can we put a lamp on?” He needed to see everything if he was going to add it to his memory bank. With a flick of a switch above the bed one of the bedside lamps came to life.

Now he could see properly, he set to work. If yesterday was all about release and relief, tonight would be all about creating a memory that he could draw upon time and time again. Tonight he was going to go slow and take his time.

—

Han Jisung was really here! See he hadn’t stood you up. He hovered over you with an expression of overwhelm and desperation that made you yearn for him with every cell of your being. The way his wide eyes bored into you made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

He explored your bottom lip with his tongue, slowly running the tip along the sensitive skin and slowly pushed it into your mouth as your lips connected. His tongue massaged yours. Slowly. Deliberately. The way he was kissing you made your core ache, your walls squeeze tight and your body feel drunk. He pulled away and looked down at you with hooded eyes and he bit down hard on his his lower lip, before leaning down to kiss the side of your neck, nipping at it and sucking the flesh. You let out a slight squeal and he smiled against your skin. 

His hands and mouth explored every inch of your skin, first making his way from your neck to your breasts. He pinched one nipple lightly while his mouth found the other and sunk his teeth around it. It was pure heaven having his mouth attached to you like this. Then he swapped, taking the other nipple between his lips and flicking his tongue over it before biting it gently.

Eventually, his mouth made it’s way to your stomach and he kissed you there while his hands massaged your breasts. You didn’t take your eyes off of him while he worked his way down to your core. 

He knew exactly what to do. He’d really paid attention yesterday, and he applied the same technique that had taken you over the edge then. But this time he slowed the pace right down, and then he alternated from gentle and soft motions to hungry and passionate. You loved both, and you showed him how good he felt by rewarding him deep moans and whimpers.

He brought you to orgasm with his fingers deep inside you and his mouth covering your clitoris. You saw stars and thought you were going to float away from how fucking amazing it felt. 

He made his way back up your body just as slowly as he went down it, making sure he gave every inch of skin equal care and attention. “I wanna remember. Every. Single. Part. Of. You.” He said between kisses to your stomach and crawled his way back up to be face to face with you. His lips glistened with your wetness, and he had the audacity to lick his lips. “You taste so fucking good. Did you know that?” and he leaned down to kiss you messily so you could taste yourself on him. “See… delicious right?” and he crashed his mouth back down on yours.

Your hands explored his body too, running them up and down his back. Stroking the back of his neck where his shaved undercut met his skin, and then slid them all the way to his fucking perky ass to pull his hips down to press against yours. You could feel his hard cock trapped between you and you beyond ready to beg him to be inside of you.

As if sensing your thoughts, or reading your body’s signals, he lifted his hips enough to slide his hand down to your pussy, sliding it through your wetness.

“Fuck!” You didn’t know if you had said it or if he did. All you knew is that this was pure bliss.

He removed his fingers and reached around the back of your thigh pulling it to the side, giving him access to nestle between your legs. With eyes locked on yours, he allowed the head of his penis to brush against your entrance. You inhaled sharply and your eyes plead with him to sink into you. He didn’t break eye contact as he pushed his hips against yours and his cock effortlessly slipped inside with one motion.

He let out a wobbly exhale, and once he was fully inside, he pushed even further ensuring he was as deep as possible. The stretch felt incredible, the pressure against your cervix exquisite. He really was made for you. 

“You doing okay, baby?” he panted. He hadn’t even started moving yet and he looked out of breath.

“Mmm-hmm” you nodded. You wanted him to start moving. You wanted him closer. You wanted him to consume you.

He began to move in and out of you, and the kisses started again. On your mouth. On your neck. Your shoulder. Your nipples. Whatever hand wasn’t propping himself up was caressing you tenderly.

He pulled away and leaned up on both his elbows to drink in your body with his gaze. Then he looked down to watch his cock as he pulled it out almost the whole way only to push it in again with long languid strokes. His mouth hung open and his tongue poked out the side and he lifted his head back up to you. 

“Your cock looks so good doing that to me.” You said.

“It sure fucking does. Your pussy takes me so well. It’s like we were made for each other.”

It was like we were made for each other.

Something in you snapped, and you pulled him back down so that his whole weight was crushing you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist so that you could cling to him and hold him as close as possible. 

He took both your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, and reached around to your ass with the other, pulling your cheek to the side so he could grind deeper. He buried his face in your neck and sucked the skin hard enough it was going to leave marks. You wanted him to leave evidence.

His thrusts were still slow but they had more force behind them now. He’d pull out so slowly only to slam back in, hitting your cervix and creating a loud slapping sound as his body connected with yours.

You wanted him to make you sore so you could feel him for days to come.

You want him to hurt you.

—

Han knew he wanted to make love to you, but he didn’t know making love could mean pinning your hands above your head as he his cock slammed into you. He didn’t know it could mean bursting the blood vessels on your neck or pinching your nipple so hard you arched your back and cried his name. He didn’t know it could mean digging his fingers so hard into your hips that you were bound to bruise, and he didn’t know it could mean placing a hand on your neck and gently applying pressure while you watched him with lustful eyes. But it was making love and Han couldn’t think of any other name to describe what has happening. It felt so…right.

He balanced his forceful ministrations with tender kisses, gentle caresses and sweet words. He loved to hear the different ways your body responded under his touch, from high pitched cries, to long low moans and everything in between.

“Ride me, baby.” He huffed lifting you up and top of him as he flipped onto his back. He had the perfect view now as you rolled your hips against him and eagerly cupped your own breasts. He laid back and enjoyed what was happening above him. He watched your facial expression as you rode him, your breasts as you massaged them, and then his eyes drifted down to where you were sitting flush against his pelvis.

You leaned down to kiss him gently as you moved up and down along his length. He wrapped his arms around you tight and lifted his hips to meet yours as you slid back down his cock. You were so fucking wet too. Obscene, wet noises filled the room as both your breaths became ragged and strained.

“I’m really close…. Can you come with me?” He stammered.

“Yes…I’m…I’m gonna come…I’m close too…” and with that you lifted back up and threw your head back as you bucked and rocked on him with abandon. He held your hips, guiding you as you started to falter and he felt your walls tighten around him. It sent him over the edge and he choked on his breath as he released himself deep inside of you. He felt like the air had been stolen from his lungs and his entire body buzzed.

“That was fucking incredible, Han.” You flopped down on his chest panting. “Where did you learn to be so good at that, huh?”

He stroked your back that was now covered in a sheen of sweat, and he could feel you heart racing against him.

“What? Making love?” he joked.

“Yeah…Making love. How’d you learn to be so good at it?”

“I don’t know…I’ve never really…made love before. It had always just been sex.”

You slowly slid off his spent cock and laid against his side.

“If that's what making love's supposed to be, then I’d never done it either." You smiled.

—

Han made love to you three more times that night. The man truly had an endless supply of energy and an endless supply of semen! Each time you started slow, his cock would struggle to squeeze into your sore and swollen lips.

“I’m not hurting you am I baby?” He’d ask you each time.

“No Han, it feels achingly good…keep going.” Would be your answer.

You lost count of the number of times he took you to the stars. During one time, tears sprung from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, sending you into a blubbering mess. You both came and then broke down in sobs. Fuck, he made your heart ache so bad.

Eventually, Han did run out of energy and you fell asleep covered in sweat, tears and cum. You could clean up in the morning, but for now you needed to be mingled with him for a while longer.

One more chapter to go.

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