#mediocre snippets

[depressed-werewolf]

Whumpril Day 1: Distress Call

tw: implied kidnapping, possessive whumper, failed escape attempt, drugging

Whumpee stood at the payphone and dialed the number. They took another wary glance behind them. They didn’t have much time before Whumper caught up with them and there was only one person they felt like they could call.

They took a deep breath. “Caretaker?”

They heard frantic noises on the other end of the line, as if Caretaker had knocked something over.

“Whumpee? Whumpee, is that it you?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m near Fourth Street. I can’t… I can’t stay in one place for long, they’ll find me.”

Caretaker’s voice was frantic on the other end of the  phone. “What? Who is ‘they’? What are you talking about?”

“It’s Whumper, just… please come get me. I’m scared.”

Simply saying their name made Whumpee shiver. They glanced behind them again, they were alone… for now.

Caretaker sighed. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.”

Whumpee could only pray they got there in time. “Please hurry,” they said in a small voice.

“I will.”

There was a click and the other hung up. Whumpee leaned against the alley wall and closed their eyes. They hoped Whumper wouldn’t find them. They’d barely even managed to get away, Whumpee didn’t know what Whumper would do if they found them, but they knew it wouldn’t be good.

“You know they won’t get here in time.”

Whumpee jumped. They knew that voice too well, far too well. When they opened their eyes they saw Whumper standing beside them, leaning casually against the alley wall. 

Whumpee scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over their own feet in their panic. “Just leave me alone, please,” they begged.

“Now why would I do that?”

Whumper quickly closed the distance between them, tilting Whumpee upwards and forcing them to look them in the eyes.

Whumpee flinched back violently. “Don’t touch me!”

They stroked the other’s cheek fondly, ignoring Whumpee’s obvious panic. “Oh, whumpee, when will you learn? You’re never getting away from me.”

“Get off me, get off me!”

They shoved Whumper and continued scrambling backwards, but their back hit the wall. 

Whumper shook their head and continued prowling towards them, pinning them against the wall. “It seems you’ve forgotten your place, Whumpee. But don’t worry, I’ll bring you home.”

They noticed the rag in Whumper’s hand too late. They struggled when Whumper pressed the rag against their mouth and noise, but they ultimately had nowhere to go.

“Please, please no,” they whispered.

But by then the chemicals were already making their vision go blurry. Whumper said something but they couldn’t make out the words, their mind was foggy. The last thing they remembered before passing out was falling into Whumper’s arms.

[grasshopper82]

omg i love the lightning lord mention so much because he’d definitely use that to his advantage as he gets bigger and just indulges his appetite more. less swinging his own weapon and maybe lightning lord’s strikes get more dangerous as he gets fatter since there’s more weight behind his strikes when they happen.

he definitely wouldn’t be fazed by popping a seam or bursting out of his clothes despite them always being tailored. absentmindedly rubbing his growing belly and just being pampered because it means he can finally relax. i just like that despite everything he’s able to still lead as general even with how large he gets and dh just finds himself more enthralled with how big he gets and not even realizing the impact it has on his own waistline haha

”General?”

Dan H.eng tries to cover his amazement. The pictures showed he was big, but either they werent accurate or he’s noticably gained weight in the week since he last saw the photo.

Jing Y.uan notices him, and heaves himself out of his chair. His belly leads the way as he moves towards Dan H.eng, smiling to see him.

“How are you?” he asks.

They exchange pleasantries that Dan H.eng does not remember, because he is too busy trying to surreptitiously look at JY’s stomach. It is by far the largest part of him, and while the waist and thighs have grown to accomodate it, they still do not hold a candle to its width. The belt, now positioned underneath, does a lot to hold it up, and also emphasizes the roundness. DH finds himself wondering; how would it feel to hold the weight of that? To examine the sheer size?

The conversation ends, and Dan H.eng has the vague idea that he’s agreed to go somewhere. He follows Jing Y.uan out the door, now given a chance to appreciate the plump backside, and the rolls developing that are becoming visible through the folds of the fabric.

They stop at a restaurany nearby. Jing Y.uan settles himself down carefully, and orders an impressively long list of items. DH adds his own few orders, and then the conversation turns to other topics.

“General. . . . I am glad to see you are doing better, after the injuries from Phanty.lia.”

“It was certainly an ordeal. However, i survived, and it did give me the opportunity for some. . . self-growth.” The General pats his belly warmly, taking a sip of a drink just ordered-immortal delicacy?-that appears to be half full of cream.

Dan H.eng moves closer to the table. The growing bulge in his pants is getting hard to hide.

The first part of the food arrives, and Jing Y.uan sets upon it like a starving man. Dan H.eng wants to stare, and watch this man expand, but he does not want to be rude, and hastily starts on his own meal.

The way Jing Y.uan is eating is almost hypnotizing. DH clears his plate, then another, and is halfway through a third before JY-much faster than him-has cleared all of his plates and sits back with a sigh, lacing his hands together to rest on the crest of his stomach. It is then that DH realizes his own stomach is sending slight signals of pain- it’s stuffed. the small, round bump of his own is miniscule compared to the girth of JY’s, which was several inches away from the table at the beginning of the meal, and now barely touches when JY breathes in.

It’s the one of the more uncomfortable situations in his life so far-his dick is throbbing and so is his stomach- but also probably the most aroused he’s ever felt. He watches Jing Y.uan doze in his seat, the occasional soft belch or hiccup making his stomach wobble.

Dan H.eng knows then that he will be returning often.

[puddleslimewrites]

Snippet #7

"Your evil plan...is a cocktail set?" Hero looked at the villain like they'd gone insane.

Villain glared at them and crossed their arms in indignation. "It's not just a cocktail set. It's a mixology set up!"

Hero picked up at the cocktail shaker. "So your plan is to, what? Beat me by hosting a cocktail party?"

Villain rolled their eyes. "Must everything I do have to have some malicious intent? Some hidden motive?"

"I mean, yeah? You are a villain-"

"Shut up, will you?" Villain snatched the shaker out of their hands. "I didn't invite you into my home for no reason. Initially, I was going to ask if you wanted to go out for a drink. But then I realized something."

Villain rounded the kitchen bar and set the shaker down next to a bottle of gin. They leaned across the counter with a smirk on their lips. Hero's face grew warm as Villain whispered in their ear, "Why buy you a drink when I can make one?"

[eternity-death]

eve hey wanted to talk to you real quick hey. (it’s 🫧 by the way.)

i literally posted on my rambles blog the idea of sunday being disgusted with me but i deleted it bc i thought “wow that’s so heavy.” & now seeing that rb (the heart of a halovian is only shared among their own kind)? KILLING ME ON GHE SPOT. MAKE IT WORSE ACTUALLY. i’ll assist you like this is murder i’ll be your accomplice.

Ahhh yes my missing brain cell

BUBBLE U ARE DEVIOUS…

That disgust you feel when you realize someone has feelings for you… unwanted affections, the way your skin crawls whenever they look your way, the discomfort of being in their presence… The desire to run from it all and avoid it like the plague.

Sunday feeling this way towards you… hehahagahhAHAGAGGAHAH

[sunshine-of-my-shoulder]

Misha Collins killed my dog

[saetoru]

maybe u could start posting more little snippets of fics before you post them fr, it was fun last time

omg awww if y’all like lil sneak peaks and such then i’ll post them more often as i write fics sure !!

[st4rstudent]

Unfortunately, it has gone quite slow. This writing thing has HANDS!!! It's just a short one story since I haven't actually wrote anything in a whiiileeeee. i think its about maybe halfway done

[miicachii]

WHAT THE FUCK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

It’s fall which means my brain suddenly has the urge to work on the DAI horror western au fics I thought I would be done writing two years ago

[depressed-werewolf]

Memories

Everything hurt. They couldn’t think and all they could hear was the buzz of unintelligible voices. There was a thick fog in their head that kept them confined to a dreamlike state.

Eventually, the hero managed to fight through the fog and open their eyes. They were immediately assaulted by bright fluorescent lights, worsening their already throbbing headache. They shut their eyes. The voices were gradually becoming more clear now. One voice, however, stood out as prominent.

“Hero?”

They didn’t recognize the voice.

“Hero!”

Louder this time. They could feel hands shaking their shoulders.

They opened their eyes again, and, this time, the lights were more bearable, though their vision was still too blurry to make out the room. The voices sounded more frantic now. 

“They’re awake!”

They could feel arms wrapping around them now, pulling them so that they were sitting up. When Hero blinked a few times their vision gradually became clearer.

They were sitting on a bed in a small room. There was a tall man in front of them with short, dark hair.

The man when he realized they were awake. “You gave me quite a scare, getting injured like that."

“W-who are you?”

An unreadable expression spread across his face. “You don’t remember me?” Hero shook their head. “Do you remember anything?”

They hesitated for a moment. It seemed there was something just out of reach that the Hero couldn’t put their finger on. They finally gave up and shook their head. “No.”

“Unfortunate.” That unreadable expression was back. It felt familiar in an odd sort of way. It made the hero nervous. “My name is Supervillain.”

They felt like they’d heard the name before but didn’t know when or how. They shook their head. It felt as if they hit a wall every time they tried to delve into their memories. “Supervillain…”

Hero shook their head and groaned. It was as if a wall blocked them anytime they tried to go back. “I can’t remember anything.”

Supervillain ran a gentle hand through Hero's hair. That unreadable expression was back. “Don’t fret, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.”

Their tone of voice jogged something in Hero’s memory, a single name.

Villain.

They had no idea what the name meant, but it was something. Everything would come back to them eventually, they hoped.

Supervillain smiled at them hesitantly and rubbed their back. “I suppose you’ve forgotten a lot, haven’t you? Perhaps showing you around the place would jog your memory.”

Hero took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah… yeah, that might help me remember something.”

“Excellent.”

Supervillain offered Hero a hand, helping them off the bed. Supervillain beamed. Hero wanted to remember, but secretly, Supervillain hoped they never would.

[urlocallesbiab]

man i really should get back into the habit of regular writing

i opened word to do some light homework for tomorrow's work meeting and barely two sentenses in my brain went "huh, sounds kinda like a poem. hey, here's how you could make it into a poem!" babe for the love of god focus, you can have your creative frolicking later

[joelmillers-whore]

Fuck Me Like You Mean It

summary: a miserable time out at a club turns into quite the night when you run into someone you least expected to see. 

word count: 4.9k

series or one-shot

warnings: SMUT, explicit 18+, MDNI, no outbreak, dbf!joel x f!reader, dark!joel, spanking, dubious consent at times, voyeurism, exhibitionism i guess, dirty talking, language, joel calling reader a cock slut, slightly creepy joel, unspecified age gap, daddy kink, brat tamer joel, hand job for a second, manhandling, dominant joel, oral (female and male receiving), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, jealousy if you squint. as always, if i missed something, please let me know. 

you are responsible for the content that you consume. please read the warnings before continuing with this fic. enjoy babes. 

A/N: i am so sorry firstly for teasing you all with snippets of this one-shot and then just not posting it lol, life has been a little chaotic, to say the least and i was just feeling so uninspired to finish it (literally i do this to myself). but so many of you loved the little teaser i posted and i couldn’t just not give ya’ll some delicious dbf!joel. so, here it is. 

ALSO, a huge thank you and shoutout to kylee @hellishjoel for reading and beta-ing this for me, i love you and your freakouts were so valid haha. forehead kisses.

main masterlist

The pungent stench of sweat curled around your nose, setting your already overstimulated nerves into hyperdrive. Possessive hands pawed at your hips, urging you back into their body, into their growing stiffness. 

Normally, you’d be all for it. The game. Going out each weekend, getting shitfaced with your best friend, entertaining men who you would otherwise have no interest in just to see them work for a moment of your attention. 

But not tonight, tonight you’d had enough of it all. The handsy men, the unrhythmic and too-loud music, and just the whole played-out scene really. There wasn’t anything to get excited about anymore, each weekend blurring into the same version of the last, and the one before that. 

It was boring and you couldn’t tolerate the lacklustre men around you for much longer. So, twisting out of the weak grip of the twenty-something you had been dancing with all this time, you abandoned them and your friend who reeked of desperation. 

She’d hounded you all week to go out to a club, hoping to get laid, vetoing your suggestion to just get drunk and find someone at a bar. Now, you were at a seedy club downtown, getting groped from every angle by mediocre-looking men who smelled of too much Axe body spray and sweat. 

The mere thought of the combination curdled your stomach, propelling you deeper into the club and all the way to the bar. You thought that alcohol might right your foul mood, your skin already pricking with annoyance at your current circumstances. 

Getting to the bar, it was as packed as you had been imagining. Everyone was contending for the bartender’s attention, demanding drinks that you were sure were as watered-down as your first shot had been. 

You sighed, wondering why you had let your friend talk you into coming out tonight, when it was the last thing in the world you wanted to be doing. 

Lack of desire for the club had turned into plain boredom now, every ounce of your body thrumming with the longing to escape. But you’d never just up and leave your friend, no matter how much you wanted to. You’d just have to grin and bear it. 

Tapping your finger along to the music, that wasn’t even good, the slow and melodic electronic music nearly putting you to sleep, you waited for your drink. Finally getting your drink from the bartender, you slurped it down, hoping the subtle sting of the alcohol would wake you up, and trigger something to make your night more enjoyable. 

You began to walk back to where you had left your friend, deciding to scoop her drunk ass up and take her back with you to your place to call it a night at... you checked your phone, a pathetic ten-thirty. But you stopped in your tracks when something caught your eye, or rather someone. 

Turning your head toward the seated area, which basically served as the VIP section without actually having the name, because there was nothing special about it. Old red velvet couches that had seen better days and probably had every fluid known to man seeped into the cushions, and wobbly tables that were smattered with decade-old stains. 

You squinted your eyes, the stage lights blinding you as you put a hand up, shielding your eyes as you attempted to make out a vaguely familiar shape that was sitting in said area. You took a tentative step forward, thinking that your eyes were deceiving you, the wild lights making you see things. Because there was no fucking way that you were actually seeing what you were seeing, no fucking way. 

Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight. Your dad’s neighbour, Joel Miller, was sitting on one of the couches, a beer in one hand, his other hand disappearing below the cut of the table. Your eyes followed his hand, trailing down the length of him until they snagged on the back of someone's legs, kneeling below the table. 

Your lips parted slightly, completely caught off guard by what you were seeing. You were watching your dad’s neighbour— or better yet, his best friend, get sucked off at a club. Feeling your face heat, you looked away, embarrassment coating your skin. 

Your stomach lurched, turning with nausea and something else, your skin pricking with sweat as you glanced back up at Joel, meeting his already waiting eyes. Those chocolate brown orbs were blown, wide, and ghosting with surprise as he raked them over the expanse of you. 

His face glowed in the low light of the club, the flashing lights dancing and snagging your gaze to his lustful expression. The way that his eyes were heavy-lidded, the slight sheen that coated his brow, and the way that his chest rose and fell excessively. 

It was a scene that you couldn’t look away from, even though you wanted to. You wanted to get out of there and go... well, you didn’t exactly know. The longer that Joel’s eyes held yours, the more you felt yourself being drawn into his orbit, his world. Your chest began rising and falling in time with his own, and a dull throbbing began in your cunt, surprising you completely. 

You didn’t think that you’d be this kind of person, someone who was turned on by watching other people having sex. But you also couldn’t deny or explain the influx of wetness that saturated your panties. 

You awkwardly clenched your thighs, rubbing them together to ease some of the pressure you felt. Joel’s stare burned into you, causing your heartbeat to thrum erratically in your throat.

You felt sick and depraved and like you should be anywhere else in the world, but another part of yourself couldn’t look away, because you didn’t want to. 

You wanted to see Joel fall apart right in front of you, to see him burst at the seams and devolve into a fit of pleasure right before your eyes. And like you had wished it into existence, you watched as he tipped his head back, snapping his eyes closed, his whole body convulsing as he came. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a beautiful sight to behold. 

Another gush of your own arousal leaked out of you, sticking the thin material of your panties flush against your cunt, rubbing against your already swollen clit. Fuck, you felt too hot and you needed to cool down, maybe splash some water on your face. 

Ducking out of Joel’s line of sight, you headed past the winding staircase, down a rather dark hallway, and toward a couple of heavy-set doors that housed the bathrooms. There weren’t many people around, only a few bodies scattered throughout the hall. 

Couples made out in the dark and you may or may not have seen a drug deal going down. But none of that mattered now, the only thing you needed to do was close yourself into a stall and try to get your hormones under control. 

Even though the thud of the music carried all the way down the hall, you could still hear a rhythmic thump of someone stomping in your direction. You turned on your heels, anxious to see who it was. Before you could even blink, strong arms shoved you past one of the steel doors, locking it behind you, before planting you against it on the other side. 

Your eyes trailed their broad and expansive chest, cresting at their salt and pepper beard and mustache, and settling on their sinful eyes. Eyes you had just been staring into moments before. It was Joel. Shock and something lustful coasted through you, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. 

Joel’s face was inches from yours, his breathing mingling with your own, the heady scent of beer invaded your nostrils. His eyes dipped to your lips and then lazily dragged back to your eyes. His hands were resting on your hips, keeping you between the door and his body, caging you in. 

“What’re you doing?”, you asked, swallowing thickly, trying to avoid his eyes. 

“What’s it look like ‘m doing?”, he replied, his Southern drawl coming out as thick as honey, making your thighs snap together. 

You shook your head gingerly, “Dunno...”. 

His lips quirked up, a sinister smirk plastered on his face, “Turn around”. His voice was gruff and assertive, making you quiver at the tone. 

You were stunned into silence, your mouth opening and closing like you were trying to catch flies, surprised by his forwardness. 

“What—”, you started. 

You couldn’t even catch your breath before Joel’s rough grip grabbed your arms, turning you around in his hold and pressing your front against the edge of the sink, basically bending you in half so that your ass was facing him, on full display. 

“This fuckin’ dress”, he mumbled behind you, fisting the material and tugging it up, bunching it around your waist, leaving your ass bare save for your drenched thong. “Wanted to fucking rip it off of ya”. 

You whined, pushing your ass toward him, your body completely under his spell, his raspy voice suddenly fulfilling every dirty fantasy you’d ever had about this man. It wasn’t as if he was unattractive by any stretch of the word, he was ruggedly attractive even. 

Your mind couldn’t concentrate on your thoughts of how attractive Joel was before a stinging slap came down on your bare ass cheek. You craned your neck, as best you could, but you felt another quick sting, forcing you to remain in the position you were in. 

“Fuck—”, you half-whined, half-mewled, both turned on and pissed off at the same time. “You can’t just—”. 

Another slap, harder this time, causing your body to jolt and instinctively wiggle away from the pain. 

“I can—”, Joel groaned, another full-palm slap on your ass, probably leaving a large, red imprint there. “And I will”. 

Joel’s other hand was pressing down on your back, pushing your face further and further toward the porcelain sink that wasn’t as white as it probably had been once upon a time. It made your stomach revolt against you, the combination of cigarette ash and week-old vomit was not the most pleasant scent. 

You felt Joel’s hand slip away from your ass, his fingers trailing over the back of your exposed legs, moving lower and lower. You attempted to look behind you again, his body not crowding you anymore.

When you did manage to sneak a peek, he was lowering himself onto his knees, spreading your legs farther apart by the back of your knees. 

Your eyes went wide, “What- what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”. 

Joel rolled his eyes, nipping at your sore ass cheek, causing you to jump. “So many goddamn questions”. 

You muttered something incoherent, a protest of some sort, but Joel wouldn’t hear it, only ignoring you and continuing on his mission. He pulled your deep red thong to the side, the chilled air in the bathroom hitting your exposed clit deliciously. 

“Mm, my favourite colour”, he groaned. 

You shook like a leaf as you awaited what came next, feeling Joel’s harsh breath closing in on your pussy, the anticipation actually killing you. It was like a shock to your system, the feel of his warm mouth suctioning to your lips, sucking and licking like he had been deprived all this time. 

Your hips pressed back into him, involuntarily chasing the sensation, the friction, the high. The brash feel of Joel’s beard tickled you, circling your entrance like a shark would its dinner. He licked along your folds, fucking his girthy tongue into your hole as he spread your cheeks further apart, stretching you painfully with the size of it. 

You were a moaning mess, hands strangling the edge of the sink, as you held on for dear life. Searing pleasure gripped your lower stomach, throttling your insides as Joel picked up his pace, helping you to your orgasm.

It came over you suddenly and violently, making you shake as you clenched your eyes shut, rocking back into him as light burst behind your eyes, making your body sweat and tingle with the aftershocks. 

You felt Joel move to stand, palming the flesh of your ass cheeks with both his hands as you took this opportunity to catch your breath. Your chest heaved as you lay virtually flat against the sink, your breasts squishing down painfully. 

Lightheaded and completely fucked out, you hadn’t even been aware that Joel’s hands were on you again, manhandling you so that you were turned around, facing him. He roughly gripped the hem of your dress, yanking the material down, your breasts popping out of their constraints. 

“D’you like what you saw earlier?”, Joel asked, his voice dropping an octave, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. “Hmm? Was that sweet lil’ pussy weeping for me while I was getting blown?”. 

Your mind was clouded, a fog settling over each neuron, slowing down your capacity to think and speak, let alone to respond to him. You nodded your head, moaning in his ear, rubbing your jaw along his own, scraping your skin over his patchy beard. 

“Fuck”, he groaned, rutting his hardened bulge into your thigh, creating succulent friction for himself while you leaned back, taking it. “I almost blew my load when I saw that you were watching me, gettin’ off on seeing that”. 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, your mind still stuck in that post-orgasm haze. 

Joel gripped your chin in his fingers, tipping your head up so that your eyes were locked with his, “Eyes on me, darlin’. I ain’t finished with you yet”. 

You nodded again, your breathing coming out rushed as you gulped down heaps of air, filling your lungs, eyes locked on Joel’s. Your lids were heavy, vision clouded as Joel leaned forward, lips grazing yours. 

His teeth came down on your bottom lip, suddenly, making you yelp. The pressure was light, not as hard as you were expecting, not as hard as a part of you wanted. Joel groaned, his hands roaming all over you. Your hips, your stomach, your ass. 

Your hands raked up and down Joel’s chest, steadying yourself with the feeling of the coarse material underneath your palms. Your gaze flicked down to his buttoned-up shirt, to the three buttons that were undone, the dense hair on his chest, stippled with grey and white. 

He hummed, his chest rumbling below your fingers as you dipped them under his shirt, weaving through the loose curls, exploring the feel of him. His chest was solid, firm, strong, dependable. A strange wave of calm washed over you, igniting your confidence. 

“No...”, you breathed, your chest heaving, pulling one raspy breath after another from your lungs, “I’m not finished with you yet”. 

Joel’s eyes widened, his mouth parted, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his already glistening lips. A smirk tugged at the edge, his index finger slipping past your bottom lip. You opened wider, allowing his digit to slip into your mouth, the heedy taste of sweat and something sweeter settled on your tongue, your taste buds exploding with the tang of him. 

“Is that so?”, Joel cooed, his voice dripping, oozing with unbridled desire. 

He pushed his digit deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat roughly. The intrusion was sudden, making your eyes snap shut as you tried your best to keep it together, to not give Joel the reaction he was looking for. But you gagged, all the same, drool pooling and dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

You heard Joel click his teeth, a disappointed tsk coming from deep in his chest as he tried again, this time gripping your chin with his other hand, making sure you opened wide for him. 

“Come on, you can do better than that...”, he mused, his middle finger accompanying his index, sliding them deeper and deeper down your throat, until you couldn’t do anything but take it, the will to fight against the shock to your system fading quickly. “Show Daddy how much you want to suck his cock”. 

Your pussy began to thrum rapidly, your slick running down your inner thighs, making them sticky, making you even more of a mess than you already felt. You moaned around Joel’s fingers, sucking and bobbing your head along them as best as you could. 

His hand dropped from your chin to rub at your peaked and sensitive nipples, playing with them, distracting you from what you were doing. It was maddening, the sensation, the tweaking, the way he chuckled under his breath when you stuttered around him, groaning every time you took him deeper. 

He pinched your right nipple harder, twisting it, “Keep going, baby”. 

That was all the reminder that you needed. You shifted your focus back, inhaling through your nose deeply, taking his fingers down more, more, more. Tears bubbled along your waterline, making your vision of Joel blurry, and unfocused. 

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a thin line of your saliva still attaching you to him. Your attention was focused on the strand until it broke, your gaze sliding up Joel’s face, past his greying and patchy beard, his full, plump lips, and settling on his burning eyes. 

“Are you ready for Daddy��s cock now? Hm?”, he asked, in an almost mocking tone. 

You nodded, still a little dazed, still a little flustered. He grabbed your chin forcefully, his grip tight as he angled your head up, your eyes downcast as you kept them locked with his. 

“Tell me you want it, darlin’”, Joel’s face was inches from yours, his lips so close that you could push up on your toes and kiss him, feel them against you, but you didn’t, not yet. “Tell me you need it”. 

“I-I need it...”, you said, low. Joel’s brow raised, urging you to continue, “Daddy...”, you whined, your hips grinding into his thigh absentmindedly. 

Joel nodded, his pupils blown out, gleaming with lust and dark intent. You watched as his hands dragged across his stomach, sliding down farther and farther, resting above his belt. 

“Can I...”, you trailed off, preoccupied by his massive bulge, the way that it twitched in his jeans, practically punching a hole through them. 

Joel smirked, “Yeah, go ahead, baby”. His breathing was stunted, coming out in shallow pants as he anticipated you finally touching him. 

You reached out, hands dangling loosely on his hips, thumb rubbing along his zipper. You heard Joel’s breathing hitch above you, and you smirked. So, he was just as affected as you were... interesting. 

Holding in a breath, you tentatively searched his eyes a last time, he nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving you. You sank to your knees, Joel’s hand darting out to grab your arm, stabilizing you as you lowered yourself fully. 

You looked up at him through your full lashes, trapping him with your stare as you undid his jeans, slowly, with purpose. Your heart hammered in your chest, your mouth already filled with saliva as you awaited what you anticipated to be a huge cock. 

You couldn’t believe that you were on your knees, wrestling with Joel’s belt as he stood over you, towering over you, when just the other day he was helping your Dad change the oil in your car. 

Your Dad hadn’t been any the wiser to the way you had been ogling his neighbour and best friend the entire time. How you traced every bead of sweat that presented on his brow, how you watched intensely as his back muscles contracted under his plain black t-shirt every time he bent over the hood of the car, making you bite your lip as you imagined all the ways he could bend you over that hood and rail you into oblivion. 

You had focused on his dirty fingers, how meticulous and deft they were as they tinkled with the fine parts inside of your car, how filthy they were, covered in inky black smears. You felt like you were in heat, completely turned on by normal, everyday things, something as simple as a man— who again, was old enough to be your Dad, helping your actual father tune up your car. 

Pulling Joel’s zipper down, his black briefs hugged the shape of his cock, the fleecy material moulding his straining member beautifully. Your mouth watered at the sight, the size of him, the way that he smelled, even before you pulled him out of his underwear. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to taste him then, immediately. Your core fluttered as you inched forward, hands wrapping around his thick, sturdy thighs, your nose burying deep into his hardened flesh, inhaling his intoxicating scent. And it was intoxicating. 

Your head was already swimming, your lips rubbing up and down his shaft, tongue licking his clothed cock. His musky soap took over your senses, the way his heavy scent settled over you, drawing you in deep, your tongue basically lapping at him now. Greedily, hungrily, shamelessly.  

Joel’s hands dropped down to your hair, tangling in it. His hold was painful, bordering on brutal. You couldn’t handle it anymore, being so close and yet not close enough. 

Your hands fumbled with the waistband of his underwear, dragging his pulsating cock out of them, feeling the weight of him in your hand. How warm and supple he was, how heavy and manly it was. 

Wrapping your hand over him, feeling flesh on flesh, skin on skin, warmth flooded your core, arousal seeping from you again. Joel sharply inhaled a breath through his teeth, wincing when you took hold of him. 

You looked up at him through lashed eyes, “What’s wrong?”. 

Joel shook his head, “Cold”. 

You snickered, rubbing your thumb over his slit, making his fists in your hair tighten significantly. In the low light, you could see a glob of something shimmering on his shaft, calling out to you. You took a closer look, realizing that it was lip gloss. Her lip gloss. 

Your gut simmered and boiled as you inspected it, collecting it on your finger and wiping it off on his jeans, practically snarling as you did. 

“She meant nothing, baby”, Joel said, his voice devolving into a groan when you slowly started stroking him. 

You hummed, not completely satisfied with his answer but deciding to let it go for now. He wasn’t yours and you had no say over what or who he did. You tugged harder, angrier, even though you knew it was irrational to get upset over this. 

“I can do it better”, you said, catching yourself off guard with your own words. Joel angled your head up, making you look at him. 

“Show me then”, he mumbled, his eyes glazing over with desire as he watched you intently. 

You sank down lower, face now level with his cock, fingers brushing against the wiry, short hair at the base. You inhaled deeply, inhaled the scent of him— sharp, masculine, heedy. 

He was all man and he was all yours for the moment; his lips parted slightly, his eyes hooded as he looked down at you, his tongue darting out to run along his parched lips, watching you like a hawk, cementing to memory the image of you on your knees for him, his best friend’s little girl hungry for his cock, ready to gag on it and swallow down every bit of his seed until she was choking on it. 

Joel’s cock pulsed under your touch, twitching with anticipation. Your lips quirked up at the edge, satisfied with his reaction to you, even though you hadn’t even started yet. 

You leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on his tip, Joel’s hand flying to your hair, steadying himself as your tongue popped out, running along the underside of his shaft, the feeling so fucking delicious that he would have burst if he hadn’t tugged you away from his cock faster than you could suck him into your mouth. 

“Stop... fucking teasing me...”, Joel breathed out, through clenched teeth, the pain in his voice making you giggle. 

“Okay”, you conceded, rolling your eyes like the fucking brat that you were. 

Joel loosed his grip on your hair significantly, and you pushed on, suckling at his tip, your tongue gliding over the head over and over again, effectively driving him insane— if his noises were any indication of that. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and took more of him, hallowing out your cheeks, covering your teeth with your lips. Spit painted his cock, the smell mixing with the overwhelming scent that was already present in the bathroom. 

You bobbed up and down on Joel’s cock, spurred on by the moans and broken grunts that were coming from him, your name and only your name spilling from his lips. 

“God, you love this cock”, Joel mumbled, loud enough for you to hear, your pussy beginning to throb again. “Don’t ya?”. 

You attempted to nod, opening your throat more for him to slide his length farther down. 

“My little cock slut, huh?”, Joel grunted, his other hand joining the one that was already tangled in your hair, grabbing your head and shoving himself deeper down your throat. 

You lost your rhythm, sputtering around him when you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe, but Joel wasn’t having any of it. He yanked hard, tipping your head up, your eyes glazed with tears. 

“What did I say? Eyes on me”, he growled, taking over— taking charge of the situation. You gripped his thighs, holding on for dear life, as he used your mouth to get off, not caring in the slightest that you were running out of air. 

Joel’s hips snapped violently as he pushed himself down your throat, groaning at the feel of it hugging his cock, squeezing it like he was fucking your pussy, fluttering every time you swallowed around him. 

He grunted loudly, his tempo becoming stuttered, “What would your Daddy say? Hm? What would he say if saw you right now, your mouth stuffed full of my cock, makeup running down your cheeks?”. 

You moaned around him, eliciting a pained groan from Joel, “Fuck, yeah, ‘s it... you’re doing so well for me”. 

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your eyes stinging as you blinked them away, swallowing around Joel’s cock periodically, trying to get him to cum.

He was close, you could feel it in the way that he was tensing up, his pace unsteady and rushed, head thrown back as he let the feeling wash over him. It was a sight to behold, your arousal leaking from you as you watched him. 

A loud bang came from the other side of the bathroom door, some muffled shouting. Joel’s head snapped up at the intrusion, his thrusts becoming angrier each time he pulled out of you, only to shove back in harder. 

The banging came again but this time Joel didn’t take his eyes off of you, didn’t want to miss how you reacted when he came down your throat. 

“Want you to swallow it, darlin’. Don’t want you wasting a single drop”. 

You hummed again, a hand reaching for his balls, massaging them in time with his thrusts. A loud grunt was all the warning that you got before Joel spilled his load down your throat, his seed hot as it pooled in your mouth, the taste salty and overwhelming to your senses. 

You swallowed as much of him as you could, delighting in how he shuddered above you as he milked himself into your waiting and open mouth. He stepped back from you, tucking himself back into his jeans, running a hand through his sweat-slick curls. 

A drop of his cum ran down your chin and you didn’t waste a second before you thumbed it, sticking the finger into your mouth and sucking it clean, a lewd pop emitting in the echoing bathroom when you were finished. 

With a hand on the porcelain sink, you got to your feet, adjusting your dress and fixing your hair and makeup in the dirty mirror. You shrugged, not caring how you really looked, the club was dark enough that no one would be the wiser to what had just occurred. You hoped. 

You turned to Joel who still had that look in his eye as he stared at you. 

“What?”, you asked. 

He shook his head, “Nothin’”. Another bang on the door, Joel’s head turned to the noise, his features darkening, “I’m going to knock their fuckin’ head off if they knock one more time”. 

You walked to the door, patting Joel’s chest as you passed him, pulling it open. You stopped before you were all the way through, looking back at Joel. 

You cleared your throat, your voice coming out raspier than usual, “See you around, Mr. Miller”. 

You could have sworn that you saw a touch of a smile ghost his face, but you couldn’t be sure. You left the way you came, traversing the dark hallway and meeting up with your friend who was more than a little drunk. 

You joined the group of them, dancing and grinding for hours. Maybe your night out wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought. You unconsciously scanned the dance floor— the club for the brooding neighbour you had a quickie with in the bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found. 

You shrugged, only mildly disappointed that you were dancing with horny boys rather than the man who had made you see stars over and over again. But you smiled to yourself because you’d see him again, that was a guarantee, and maybe, just maybe he would need to help your Dad fix your car. 

taglist: @morallyinept @reddedmiller @hellishjoel @jenispunk @cavillscurls @kiwisbell @joelslegalwhre

let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

[ownlittleuniverse]

snippet #2 - the villain surprises the hero

warning: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, harmful behavior, touchy villain (not nsfw), depictions and descriptions of physical violence, may be uncomfortable or triggering for some readers, reader discretion is advised.

The hero had been captured again, tied to a chair, blindfolded, and beaten to a pulp until the only thing they could taste, smell, feel, was their blood.

It was routine at this point.

Get captured, refuse to give up information, get a few new scars before their team showed up. At a certain point, these so-called villains became predictable. None of them truly scared the hero anymore.

The hero’s head came up at the sound of a door creaking open then slamming shut, footsteps following behind. They clenched their fists against their restraints, sighing, preparing themselves for another round of mediocre scare tactics.

The footsteps of the person started to become louder and louder, the hero could hear them slowly circling their chair like they were tracking prey.

They stopped right behind the hero, their breath tickling their ear, making the hero shiver behind their blindfold.

Their captors before had never gotten this close, at least without a weapon or some weak verbal threats. This felt… different somehow. It made the hero a bit antsy. Their chest became heavier as they listened to the sounds of the person’s even breathing.

Their gut was trying to tell them something.

Something was wrong-

Their heart stopped when they heard the person’s whispered voice.

“Hello, Darling.”

No.

The hero frantically jerked at their restraints but they wouldn’t budge, it only made the rope dig more into their body. Loud and panicked sounds escaped them as their heart started to beat in their head.

The person only chuckled at their attempts to free themselves.

No. No.

They— there… it’s not possible.

“Did you miss me?”

No. They needed to get out. Tears started to seep through their blindfold, as well as sweat as they jerked their head around. They couldn’t get out, they couldn’t even see where they were. The hero was frantic, horribly panicked, and the villain reveled in it.

The villain was the only one who could evoke genuine terror from their hero. Turn them into a screaming, begging mess at their feet.

The villain trailed their hand delicately over the hero’s neck, wrapping their fingers around them and stroking. The hero let out a choked whimper, their body completely shivering.

“You never thought you’d feel this again, did you?” The villain smiled, “My touch making you deliciously crazy?”

No. They didn’t. The villain was supposed to be dead.

The hero’s breathing grew more erratic by the second, more and more tears streamed down their face, mixing with the dried blood and stinging their fresh shallow cuts.

They saw their dead body. They buried them in that grave. They stuck that knife in their chest so many times they lost count as they watched the life drain out of them. How?

“It’s been far too long, my love,” the villain said, “I think we should relive some good memories.”

The hero couldn’t answer, only cry out and tried to wiggle their way out of their restraints again and again and again. It was a pity, the sight of someone trying to escape the inevitable.

The villain started to slowly lift the hero’s ripped sleeves, rolling them to expose their skin. No. No. No. Anything but that.

The villain watched in awe as their hero completely lost it and tried so hard to escape them, even though their hero was smart enough to know there was no hope. No one was coming to save them.

“Sh, sh, sh,” the villain cooed, their hand sickenly stroking the hero’s neck like comfort, “There’s no need for that, you know you're not escaping me.”

The villain trailed their hands softly up their hero’s arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They loved how their hero tried to push them off, completely losing it when the villain finally touched their scars.

They had dreamed of touching these sensitive things again. The deep scars they left all over. They hated the scars others dared to leave. They already killed those others who dared to call themselves ‘villains’, who dared to touch the hero. Only they were allowed to touch their little hero like this.

“All our fun times, etched into your skin,” the villain said in awe. Their hero tried to get out of their hold, their sobs echoing across the room.

The scars felt different this time, some of them. The hero must have tried to rid themselves of their marks, but failed miserably. How cute.

Their hero should know better than to try to rid themselves of the villain.

They continued to trace over the uneven skin, the memories of the many long lovely torture sessions they subjected their hero to flooding their brain, and they were sure their hero was reliving it too.

“Stop,” the hero whispered, choking on their sobs, “Please-

“Just like my scars,” they cut in, pressing delicate kisses to the skin making the hero’s body shiver, “I will never leave you, love.”

It has been so long since the hero felt that terror, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through their veins, their heartbeat reaching heights that could kill them. Their breathing was so rapid, their body was in a state of complete shock and panic.

They forgot what it felt like to be terrified, and they wished it stayed that way. They thought they made sure it would.

“But, you did leave me,” The villain dug into one of their scars, making them gasp, reopening it and letting their hero’s blood trickle down their fingers.

“You left me to rot in the ground,”

“I-I didn’t-”

“Let the world forget about me.”

The villain dug in deeper. The hero cried out.

“Let yourself forget about me,” the villain whispered, their breath over the hero’s mouth.

“I’m- sorry.. please— I’ll do-“

The hero jerked and sobbed again as the villain ripped off their blindfold, the light seering their eyes.

“Your begging is pitiful,” they spat.

The hero’s eyes adjusted to the sudden light as they looked up into the villain’s. They jerked their head away. Those same eyes haunted them when the hero slept, even when they thought they were buried deep underground.

The villain grabbed the hero’s chin, digging their nails into the skin and forced their head back up.

“You really thought you could get rid of me?” the villain snapped, venom lacing every syllable.

The hero sniffled, their eyes completely bloodshot from their tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” the villain whispered with crazy in their eyes, “and neither are you.”

The hero couldn’t answer, only cry out as exhaustion took over their body. Their body stopped fighting, just twitching every so often from the adrenaline. They were slowly accepting their fate.

“I’m keeping you, Darling,” the villain smiled, stroking the hero’s chin, “and I promise you, this time, you’ll never be able to forget me.”

The hero whimpered a slur of incoherent words in response.

The villain loved their hero like this, shaking and on the verge of insanity knowing what things the villain was about to subject them to. It was a sight the villain was going to come back to every single day. They planned to come back every night, keep them tied up, bloodied and bruised, completely helpless and at their mercy. Then afterwards, they’ll really get to work on molding their hero into perfection.

The villain mercilessly tied the hero’s blindfold into a gag, enjoying the way the hero jerked in response, and took a syringe out. Their hero’s eyes winded, as they tried to plead behind the fabric, but the thing was too tight.

They sobbed. The hero knew what was coming next. They remembered, those memories were burned inside of them. Cut into their skin.

“Don’t worry,” they whispered, kissing their hero’s tear and blood-soaked cheek, “I’ll be all you ever think about soon enough.”

They could only cry and try to plead through their eyes, shaking their head. The villain though had no mercy for them whatsoever.

Their hero betrayed them. They stuck a knife in their heart when the villain let themselves believe someone actually cared for them, they finally let themselves trust and their little hero shattered it.

They stuck the syringe right in their scar. Their hero let out a scream of terror covered by the fabric.

Now it was only fair they would shatter them in return.

[stayinlimbo]

she kissed me and i tasted you again

summary: the second worst thing to happen in minho’s life was losing you. he’s still living with the first.

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: angst (and i mean it) WARNINGS: implied character death, a non-consensual kiss, grief, drinking, swearing, slightly unedited, intended lowercase please do not read if any of these themes are triggering. word count: 1.91k note: please read the warnings! i had "leave me alone" by daniel seavey on repeat while writing this. i hope you enjoy ♡ please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are always appreciated

minho shouldn’t have listened to chan. 

the blend of colorful strobe lights, though vibrant, does little to illuminate the dark room he finds himself in. the smell of alcohol and smoke permeates the air, stinging his eyes and nose as he blindly pushes through the numerous people blocking his way. an involuntary gag almost escapes him at the overwhelming body odor of the man he just brushed past.

at first, a “boys’ night out” to end a stressful work week didn’t sound like the worst idea minho had heard come from his friend’s mouth. now, though, the combination of being pressed between sweaty bodies and the mediocre club music pulsating in the background was reason enough for him to want to end the night prematurely and return to the familiarity of his home.

but he can’t. not if he wants chan’s disappointed face to haunt him for the rest of the weekend.

because chan is just trying to help. or at least that’s what minho tells himself every time he is dragged out of his small one-bedroom apartment to entertain his friend’s version of fun. last week was camping, which minho would normally enjoy if chan had bothered to check the weather forecast’s warnings of heavy rain and strong winds (he only lasted twenty minutes before sprinting back into the car, forcing a reluctant chan to take him home drenched and in a darkened mood).  

the thinning crowd reveals minho’s destination; the bar is too small for the number of people surrounding the countertop but chan’s broad stature is identifiable enough in the poor lighting for minho to walk over and squeeze himself beside him. on the other side of his friend, a woman holds chan’s attention as the two talk animatedly about somethi- 

minho’s eyes widen, sparing his friend’s back an incredulous glance. his pulse quickens, a rapid rhythm pounding in his chest, as snippets of their conversation reach his ears; the phrases knows how to cook, really good dancer, three cats, single, spew haphazardly out of chan’s mouth and echo in minho’s mind. the woman’s cheerful laughter resonates against the music's throbbing bass and the blood rushing in his ears. 

oh. oh. they’re talking about him. 

“chan,” minho’s voice is a low murmur, barely audible enough for the older man to hear, “what’re you doing?” 

minho’s question hangs in the air as chan’s rambling suddenly stops, carefully turning his body to face minho’s intense stare. 

the discomfort radiating off the younger is obvious. shifting in his stance, minho can’t help the slight furrow of his brows; the hardness of his eyes wanes as they flicker between chan and the woman before finally resting on his friend’s face.

softly exhaling, chan gives him a knowing look. 

fuck. 

minho remains silent as his grip on the bar’s edge tightens, avoiding chan’s sympathetic gaze. he knows what’s coming—the well-intentioned yet painful words that carve a hole in his heart every time they are uttered:

“its been over a year, minho. she’d want you to be happy… i want you to be happy”

minho’s eyes screw shut at his friend’s words.

perhaps it’s the pitiful expression etched on chan’s face, mirroring the ache minho feels within his own chest, or the alcohol flowing through his system that makes him truly consider the weight of the elder’s words. or maybe he’s seen enough of chan’s desperate attempts to mend the fragments of minho’s shattered heart, only to reveal more irreparable damage. 

he’s right…

“just try, okay?” chan quietly pleads.  

regardless, a small nod is all he manages to give in response. minho opens his eyes, tracking his friend’s movement as chan gives his shoulder two reassuring pats before walking away from the bar and disappearing into the sea of bodies. 

…you’d want him to be happy. 

“hey” 

flinching, minho snaps his head in the direction of the feminine voice. his posture straightens, a tight lipped grimace threatening to reveal itself.   

oh, right, she’s still here.

a hesitant smile graces the woman’s expression. the gentle glow of the pulsing lights caress her face with various colorful hues, the radiant shadows enhancing her black-dressed figure as she grabs her half-full drink from the countertop. taking a small sip, her eyes glaze over his tense form. a soft chuckle escapes her glossed lips as she locks her eyes with his. 

minho won’t deny it; she is beautiful. and he must’ve been staring too much because her name falls on deaf ears when she attempts to introduce herself.

“...hello? you are minho, right?” the woman questions, eyebrows furrowing with slight doubt. 

“uh, yeah i am, sorry,” minho answers, his sweaty hands fumbling to grab chan’s left-behind soju, ultimately choosing to shove them into his pockets instead. he can feel the awkwardness emanating off of him, filling the room with a lingering tension he doesn’t know how to escape.

the woman’s smile widens, eyes crinkling with pleasure at his reply. 

well, she doesn’t seem to notice at least.

“ah, great! chan, i think that was his name, was telling me all about you. you have a really dedicated wingman.” 

“yeah, he’s a good friend. i’m lucky to have him,” minho sighs, turning his body to fully face her. 

“you’re a dancer, right?”

the rigidness of his stance loosens slightly at the comfortable subject. talking about himself isn’t hard; it never has been.

“mhm, i’m a dance teacher for a studio nearby,” minho replies, a faint smile playing on his lips. the flow of conversation remained focused on him: he’s been a dance teacher for three years but has danced since he was in middle school. yes, maybe he’ll audition for a company one day. yes, he has three cats named soongie, doongie, and dori. 

the passage of time blends together with their laughter. the nameless woman’s drink has long been finished and replaced with a new one. chan’s soju finds its way into minho’s hand, nursing the bottle carefully as he finishes it with a final swig. the stress mounted on his shoulders has finally lifted, the buzz of alcohol brushing the pain off as they rise and fall rhythmically at her drunken attempt to finish recounting an embarrassing date.

“do you live alone?” the woman’s speech is slightly slurred, tone breathless from laughter. a lopsided grin adorns her features, as if she already knows the answer, “i forgot to ask you earlier.”

minho’s smile begins to fall. “no, i told you about my cats, remember?” 

“i meant do you live with another person? a roommate? chan told me you used to live with your ex, so i was just wondering if anything had changed since then.”

the room freezes over. icy tendrils of shock and disbelief squeeze his hammering heart, his blood running cold at the woman’s words. his ex?

silence fills the tense space. the intensifying pain from his clutch on the soju bottle thrusts him back into his dreadful reality. he lets go, placing his hand flat on the counter.

minho sucks in a deep breath. “oh. what else did chan tell you?”

“wellllllll,” she drawls, a flirty smile appearing on her face. the shadows seem menacing now, their elongated forms dancing along with her slow, deliberate words, “he said you needed help getting over her.”

the woman reaches towards him, fingers closing firmly on his forearm. minho doesn’t have time to react before she lurches forward and seals her lips with his. 

the kiss lasts for two seconds before she pulls away. paralyzed, minho can’t move until she attempts it again, forcefully shoving her away. tears well into his widened eyes, quickly threatening to spill onto his cheeks. the transferred lipgloss feels sticky against his mouth.

“get the fuck away from me, now.” 

the woman doesn’t move, her mouth stammering as she tries to form a coherent sentence. “i-i’m sorry. i was just trying to-”

minho doesn’t wait to hear her justification, swiftly pushing away from the bar and stumbling in the direction of the exit. the rush of air as he pushes the door open makes singular tears streamline down his face. the chilled breeze burns his eyes as they dart around his surroundings lit by the sparse scattering of street lamps. 

no, he really shouldn’t have listened to chan. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

minho doesn’t know how he made it home (well, actually, he does but he’d rather pretend he doesn’t than admit that chan saw his distressed state leave the nightclub and called him an uber).

the taste of the woman’s lipgloss remains on his lips, no matter how many times he tries to wipe it away. he hates how he doesn’t hate it because it tastes like you.

you, who wore the same strawberry lipgloss every time you went on a date, only for minho to kiss it all off by the end of the night. 

you, who was so excited to move in with him in this small, dingy apartment until the two of you could find a better place; a home.

you, who promised you’d be right back before kissing his cheek and heading out the door.

you, whose hands he will never hold again. 

you, whose spot on the bed his cats now sleep on every night.

you, who one year, four months, and six days later, still occupy his every thought. 

you– a sob wracks through his body, echoing around the bedroom’s walls. the empty mattress trembles with him as he curls into himself, breath hitching with every whimper of your name, as if calling it enough times would bring you back into his arms once again—right where you belong. 

no, you were never his ex. you were everything. you are everything. 

your presence is everywhere in the apartment. your favorite coffee mug (that he gifted you) rests on the counter next to his. the book you swore you would finish reading one day is left bookmarked inside the drawer of the bedside table; the same place a velvet box is tucked away and hidden since he knew you’d never pick it up again (but god, he wishes you did). he had to throw away your toothbrush but your skin care products taunt him every time he retrieves his from under the sink. 

his heart aches with a feeling that refuses to fade; he loved you. he loves you.

everyday becomes harder to breathe, to exist. the apartment, once filled with loud laughter, gentle whispers, and promises of love, is now a silent void. the absence of your soft footsteps, a careful dance to avoid stepping on the cats crowding around your feet, claws at minho’s heart. the sanctuary he knew he could run to and be welcomed with open arms and a warm embrace crumbled before his eyes the moment you were gone.

minho’s breaths evens out after a few minutes, each inhale pulling the familiar scent of the apartment. the tears leave damp marks on his pillow and lines on his face but its nothing he isn’t used to; a ritual, a routine he’s sadly accustomed to. it's not the first time his tears have stained the sheets, and it won’t be the last. the cruel cycle will repeat itself until one day he wakes up and doesn’t instinctively reach out for you in hopes that his reality isn’t just a hellish nightmare. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

the second worst thing to happen in minho’s life was losing you. he doesn’t know if he can keep living with the first.

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

[yestrday]

omg omg or hybrid kuni snippets!! I'm curious as to what he does around the house when he's not by mc

🐦kunikuzushi

you'd be dead before you can even catch him in his hybrid form. he absolutely insists on keeping his human form and that means he has no hybrid traits on him most of the time. no feathers, no wings jutting out of the back, nada. he is so insecure on how small he is compared to the others.

that being said, keeping a completely human form is absolutely exhausting on the normal hybrid, but somehow it doesn't really take a toll on him. so the others have begun to suspect that maybe his small jobitaki form is actually just a cover up (it's not) or that he's more powerful than his animal form suggests (he is)

while every hybrid has a strong connection to Nature and her elements, only mythical ones have direct control over it. somehow scara can control it??? despite not being a mythical one?

uses his connection to the air as substitute for his tiny wings and propel himself into the air to intimidate anyone who's being annoying to him

an absolute loner. the only people he usually talks to is you and aether. however, he does get along well with the sumerian hybrids (he likes to antagonize them into debates), but the inazuma gang makes sure to drag him along whatever they have planned against his will

tends to be chilling on a high spot in the library, sifting through textbooks and snorting at their mediocrity. you've seen him soft through a historic textbook about how 'horribly innacurate that it's almost laughable the contents were

^ you had brought the textbook to zhongli to see if kuni was right and zhongli said he was right. much to your dismay. and the others as well.

the children in the village below like him. sometimes he goes there for walks (or aether sent him on an errand) and then the nosy brats will just come up to him and bother him. he tries to scowl at them and shoo them away, but apparently they think he's funny and it's like a ritual among the children now to just bother kuni whenever he's in the village

he'll take a nice nap on one of the higher branches in the trees. then the birds all come flocking towards him and perched on him while he snoozed the afternoon away.

aether had once bothered him into taking his hybrid form. was almost killed because of how hard he laughed since kuni's wings were so ridiculously small it couldn't even flap his human body off the ground

[fiddles-ifs]

Hi from Maine! Happy (late. so late.) Pride!! And happy (LATE.) update day! I bequeath to you these widdle guys, which I spent a lot of time on in between other projects. They're also to apologize for delayed Greenwarden story update, because:

I've been writing a book! And I finished the first draft literally yesterday! I'm going to shit my pants!! Now that the first draft is done, I have some editing to do, which is going to eat up my time, but now I have some wiggle room to work on Greenwarden again. Check out this (raw, unedited) snippet from The House Loves You as thanks for your patience:

Next period’s bell is a shrill reminder I still haven’t touched my food. I put whatever I was reading away and dump my tray unceremoniously on the way out. The cafeteria is already empty — I don’t think I’ve ever been in a less busy school. Barely a week in, and I already know everyone by name and the general area where they live. It's more information than I want. Eventually, it'll be a new school in a new town with new people, then another, then graduation, and I'll get into a mediocre college in a different town and never look back. I'll figure it out from there.

They seem like small dreams — but they're what I've got.

I float through the rest of my classes in the back of the room. The bus ride home is unremarkable; my one saving grace is my license, but Mom has the car and we can't afford another bill, so the bus it is. Again -- the open wound is smoothed over knowing I'm not alone. I languish in the relative silence with a pair of earbuds in.

I'm the last stop in the evening. The bus rolls along, slowly shedding children like scabs, until it creeps nervously to the mailbox and gravel road that marks the mouth of the holler. It sputters like an anxious horse, shudders to a stop, and hisses open. The doors close too fast behind me, and the bus peels away in a cloud of grit. Finally, I'm well and truly alone.

The trees are tall and wild here, untouched by human hands. Branches knit together in dense braids and then part again, each gap in the canopy scorched by yellow mountain sunlight. The gravel road bends left and disappears into the deep shadows. Rocks crunch near-silently underfoot. Like they're afraid to wake something sleeping in the dark recesses of the holler. Even the birds speak in whispers.

I grab a few overdue bills from the mailbox and shuffle up the road. Mom's not home, so I get some peace and quiet for a couple hours.

The winding gut of the holler rips open in an abrupt hole, and beyond the hole is a clearing. In the clearing, circled by trees with dark trunks and tight branches, are a few rusted, dead tires, an abandoned swing set, some overgrown grass, and a house. My back hurts and my legs are sore, but I still pause at the threshold.

The house is an ugly sore made of cracked, peeling white siding and a sagging porch. Just enough timber has been cleared away to make a front and back yard. The roof seems to bow under the weight of the sky, all dark windows and missing shingles. It's a quiet house. It doesn't talk much. Not usually.

I drag my feet across the hidden flagstones in the grass, and listen to the sound of the screen door squeal open. Once I step inside, the house greets me, as it usually does.

Welcome home, Cash.