#trying not to lie here and die about it

[naivety]

mothers are true pioneers of inventing new ways to betray a person

[nightskyfoxyy]

A mama bear and her little ones :)

[mohntilyet]

really wish varric survived because if there was anyone who would have defended tyche for lying about all that for several months straight it would have been him. it's a coping mechanism. he'd understand <3

[ratcandy]

getting into actual angry arguments: awful. terrible. going to be thinking about it for the rest of the day. leaves me seething about what I could have said differently for the rest of my life.

getting into friendly debates: ohhhhhh enrichmennce.. :) mine brain is so full and thinking..........yippie yaaaaaay!!!!!!

[mad-hunts]

✧

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse! (with italics as a 'sometimes' option because i'm a rule-breaker and things may depend on the situation).

i would kill you. ✧ i would physically hurt you. ✧ i would attack you unprovoked. ✧ i would manipulate you. ✧ i dislike you. ✧ you annoy me. ✧ you scare me. ✧ you intimidate me. ✧ i hope i intimidate you. ✧ i pity you. ✧ you disgust me. ✧ i hate you. ✧ i’m indifferent toward you. ✧ i’d like to get to know you better. ✧   i’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ i’d like to be friends with you. ✧  i’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ i’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ you are my friend. ✧ you are my best friend. ✧ you are my mentor. ✧ i look up to you. ✧ i respect you. ✧ you are my hero. ✧ you inspire me. ✧ you are my enemy. ✧ you make me happy. ✧ i want to protect you. ✧ i would fight by your side. ✧ i consider you an equal. ✧ i think you are beneath me. ✧ i think you are above me. ✧ i would lie for you. ✧ i would lie to you. ✧ i would sleep with you. ✧ i would sleep by your side. ✧ i would hug you. ✧ i would kiss you. ✧ you are family to me. ✧ i would die for you. ✧ i would kill for you. ✧ i would trust you with my life. ✧ i would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ i would trust you with a secret. ✧ i would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ i love you (platonically). ✧ i love you (romantically).

[sotogalmo]

11:57

Weirdly, Golden Cicada is similar to Gaster to me

[abdalsalam2000]

They deceived us when they told us that there is an International Court of Justice, and they deceived us when they said that they are human beings or that they know humanity, and they deceived us when they said we are with you and will not leave you. They are developing and developing and developing everything in life in order to try to reduce the death rate and preserve the lives and safety of people, but all of this is a lie. Where is all of this in what is happening in Gaza? Why does the International Court of Justice not stop the war in Gaza? Why do they not stop Israel from committing massacres? Why do they let us die? Why do they let us starve? Why do they let us be besieged? Why do they let us leave our homeland by force? Why does this indicate? Where is their humanity? Where is the International Court of Justice that they boast about? Where is all of this about the thousands of children who were killed? Where is this about the thousands of children who were wounded? Where is this about the thousands of children who lost their families, fathers and mothers? Where are you regarding what is happening to us? Hundreds of innocent citizens die daily, hundreds are injured, and dozens of homes are destroyed. Why is all of this happening to us? Aren’t we human beings like you? Don’t we deserve to live like you? We want this? We want a normal life like everyone else. We don’t want to starve, we don’t want to be displaced, we don’t want to be besieged, and we don’t want to be killed. Show some of the humanity that you claim to have. Help us, please, help us. We don’t know how long we will live, so stand by us so that we can get out of here safely.

Please donate

[tobeholyistobeempty]

hey so since i’m in the season of ovulation here is degrading simon riley feeding my size kink. i’m not ok send regrets. 18+

“beggin little whore f’me. not so smart now that i’ve got your brain leakin outta your cunt.”

——-

yeah. you’ve pushed it. simple as that.

and god, you knew better. you really did. but some might say you’re a sucker for punishment. others might say you’re a masochist.

you think it’s probably a bit of both, when it comes to simon.

maybe it’s because he’s a big mean brute. emotionless. big ol wall of mass and muscle. tough bloke like him don’t feel a thing, yeah? at least in your mind. makes it easy to needle - easy to poke and prod and toss little jabs about his eyes or mask or whatever slivered sign of life he might be displaying that day.

he’s contractually obligated not to kill you, might you add. that brings a level of safety you got comfortable with.

but what you didn’t get comfortable with — what you couldn’t possibly ever get comfortable with, is the size of him in your fucking guts. the growl of him in your ear. the clutch of him around your throat.

even big dead-eyed men like simon have a limit. and by the grace of god, you’d found it. the bottom of this particular mine shaft, if you will—

“y’alright down there?” his voice is slick. fuckin slick with glee. a first for him, you’re sure. “still with me, sweet’eart?”

you can practically feel the smirk barring those teeth to your neck. you try to toss something smart assed back, something to keep it goin, but he’s got your wrists pinned behind your back and his cock stretchin your walls in a way that screams he shouldn’t even be able to fit — yet you’re clenching around him like you’d die without it.

all that comes outta you is a moan.

and he laughs. bastard. fuckin filthy rasp right against your ear. “tha’s what i thought. mm. s’what i fucken wanted.”

your eyes roll. he’s so deep your hips hurt. he presses a palm between your shoulder blades to pin you harder to the floor of his barracks. all that pent up aggressions got you leakin down your thighs. pathetic. humiliating. delicious.

“tha’s it. fucken stunned now, yeah?” he thrusts deeper. free hand smacking your ass til it stings. “always mouthin off. startin shit—fuck—y’knew what this was. you’ve always known what’d it take t’shut you up.”

you hiccup when he hits your gspot. over and over. so goddamn good it hurts. “fuck—fuck you—“

“yeah. y’are.” his hips jerk, hissing against the back of your neck. “feelin every inch of me, aren’t you? go on. fuckin tell me how i feel. wanna hear y’say it.”

you bite your tongue. squeeze your eyes shut. he fucks deeper. harder.

“say it.” another smack to your ass.

“big—“ you gasp, choking on it. “fucking—huge—“

he growls like you’ve fed him. “tha’s right. eight inches buried so deep in your tight little cunt y’forgot how to lie.”

youve never heard him talk like this and all you can do is whimper - the airs gone thin. every inhale is like sandpaper scratching at your throat. every thrust is like being punched open. and when every sound you make comes out as something pathetic you know you’ve lost.

you twist your head to try and adjust for reprieve but he fists your hair to still you. “y’wanna tell me again you can’t take it? huh? wanna tell me m’too big?”

he is. he totally is. but it’s delicious pain. makes your eyes water and your walls flutter. something about you can’t help but egg him on.

“s-shut up—“

he slams forward. breath cuts sharp against your neck. “wrong answer.”

you jolt. cry out. the heat is a wildfire across your skin. “s-si-mon—“

“try again.” he breathes, curling his fingers from your hair to your jaw. “or i’ll just keep pushin till y’feel it in your fuckin spine.”

he makes good on the promise with a bruising thrust. you wail with it. vision blurring blue. “fuck! fuck i wanted this—but you’re so—you’re too—fuck please—“

and it’s that last little word. the syllables that slip past your teeth presenting pleas on a silver platter, that make him moan. fucking moan.

“oh yeah. shit. now we’re gettin somewhere.” he exhales with it, shifting just to drag at your walls and angle deeper. “beggin little whore f’me. not so smart now that i’ve got your brain leakin outta your cunt.”

you long to tell him to shut up, fuck off, goto hell — any other circumstances you might have. but the first fuck with simon riley after months of pushing and prodding ain’t one to be won. you’ll be lucky to walk tomorrow. the monster can only be poked so many times before it wakes with vengeance.

[wcnderlnds]

battlefield | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: running into your ex boyfriend during the squid games was the last thing you expected ・❥・word count: 719 ・❥・warnings: uh... usual squid game stuff. ・❥・ authors note: this is a short one just to test the waters but im obsessed with this man after watching squid game 2 <333

There he was. The last person you’d ever expected to see in this place. Player 230. Choi Su-Bong or, as the world knew him as, Thanos. The bright purple hair had been easy to spot. The last few months had been spent avoiding him so why did fate want to throw you together in this place? Wherever the hell this place was. You still weren’t even sure but as you walked up the stairs to the first game, you didn’t really care. All you wanted to do was lay low and make sure that Thanos didn’t see you. A conversation with your ex boyfriend was the last thing you wanted.

Things had ended badly between the two of you when he’d lost all his money thanks to the crypto scam. It had changed him, turned him into someone you didn’t recognise anymore so when the arguments started and his behaviour became erratic, you knew you had to get out of there. So, you did. You left and had never looked back. All you wanted was enough money to get out of the city and far, far away. There was nothing here for you anymore. If you could win the games then you could finally start fresh somewhere.

Walking through the doors onto a floor of sand and brightly coloured walls, you heard the voice of Thanos talking to his friend. Instantly, you looked down at the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Unfortunately for you, he had stood next to you. His eyes scanned your face before recognition lit his eyes up.

“Senorita!” He said in a sing-song voice, wide grin on his face as he outstretched his arms. “What are you doing here? Come on, give me a hug.”

“None of your business and no thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m hurt,” he splayed his hand on his chest over his heart. As much as he was using his confident swagger to irritate you, deep inside he couldn’t be more glad to see you. “Not even going to give me a chance to talk, huh? That’s stone cold.”

As the rules of the game echoed through the speakers, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His hand had raised to his friend to stop him from talking to him so he could get a proper look at you. When you had left, that had been the breaking point for him. Everything had gone downhill from there. For so long he’d been trying to seek you out, to apologise but he knew you’d been avoiding him. Your friends wouldn’t tell him where you were, your family had chewed him out the second he had showed up on their doorstep so, eventually, he’d given up. But, here you were.

As Player 456 shouted out about the game being a lie and that you were going to die, your head shot up. Surely he couldn’t be telling the truth, right? Red Light, Green Light was a children’s game. At most you were probably going to be out of the running for the cash if you were caught moving.

“He’s crazy,” Thanos said. It was his way of trying to comfort you. He had instantly noticed the slight panic in your eyes, the way you were rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Don’t listen to him.”

All you could do was nod but there was a gut feeling inside you telling you that maybe it wasn’t entirely all crazy talk. Something about this whole thing felt off. Your eyes caught some girl talking, her hands waving around then suddenly she was on the ground. Instantly, fear gripped you, your stomach dropping. The room around you started to spin – you were really going to die here.

“Hey, hey,” Thanos had reached out, his hand gripping yours as he stood in front of you, back to you. “Stay behind me. I won’t let anything happen to you. You hear me? Stay behind me.”

“But… what if…” The sheer panic in your voice made his heart clench.

“No. We’re both getting out of here alive, okay? Now, stay behind me.” His protective instinct had kicked in. Right now, he didn’t care if you hated him. All he cared about was making sure you survived this so maybe, just maybe, he could finally make things right.

[moe-broey]

Oh. Huh.

[fandommothfreak]

I think Duke should be immortal in the "cannot die" sense and Jason should be immortal in the "cannot stay dead" sense and that they should keep this a secret from everyone including each other. And then they should both get caught in a situation that Absolutely Should Kill Them Instantly, miraculously not die, and then be like:

Like Jason shields Duke from some massive explosion or something, and Duke is horrified because he thinks Jason just pointlessly sacrificed himself for someone who would've been fine anyway - only for Jason to very casually come back from the dead, look at a completely unscathed Duke Thomas, and go, "Hey, what the fuck."

And Duke should look at a freshly revived Jason Todd and be like, "Me what the fuck? No you what the fuck."

And they end up both agreeing to not say a word about this to the rest of the Bats. Which poses issues. Because here you have a pair of unhinged vigilante siblings that do not fear death, that additionally now know they don't have to fear each other's deaths either, both unwilling to give anything less than everything they have to do what they think is right (and/or what they really, really want to).

So. Some things that happen in consequence:

Duke throws Jason off a fifty-story building in pursuit of some shoplifting rich asshole that was caught on camera insulting Duke's favorite metal band and being a classist fuck about it. This does, incidentally, re-traumatize Nightwing, who was ten feet away and not prepared to see his little brother yeeted off the side of a building, no grapple in sight - but it also traumatizes the shoplifter when Jason lands right in front of him, grotesquely knits himself back together, and rises from the ground in a distinctly horrifying fashion just to beat the shit out of him. So Duke takes the win.

Jason shoots Duke in the head to get him to stop shining light in his eyes in the middle of a gunfight. He does stop, but only because Batman shows up out of nowhere, and now Duke gets to pretend to be grievously injured while Batman yells at Jason about "self-control" and "maturity" and "putting teammates at risk." Meanwhile Duke is playing up this horrible concussion that he doesn't even have. Jason is seething. (Duke gets checked out at Leslie's. They convince her to lie for them by appealing to her inner petty bitch.)

Jason gets his payback a few months later by poisoning himself at an undercover op and subsequently forcing Duke to drag his dead body around a mob-owned nightclub for like half an hour trying to convince seasoned criminals that this brick shithouse of a man sprawled awkwardly across his back is just... really wasted. Totally not a corpse.

Both Jason and Duke get caught in many, many, many explosions after that initial reveal, and it's always terrifying for the rest of the Bats. It gets to a point where Batman refuses to partner Duke and Jason together for literally anything, because they always act fucking insane. Big metal vehicle moving hundreds of miles an hour towards an unsuspecting civilian? That's okay! Jason will just throw Duke in front if it. Unknown, volatile substance potentially being used by a notorious serial killer to murder his victims? No lab testing required! Duke will just pour a whole pint of the stuff on Jason's bare arm to see how it reacts. Bomb that can't be disarmed? Why wait for backup when these two psychopaths can just grab the thing and jump into the harbor? Like, genuinely. The stress. Bruce is one particularly traumatic incident away from actually considering therapy.

[landoughnut]

Puppy Plans - CL16

masterlist - request

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: leo somehow escaped charles' apartment in monaco, and when a girl who lives nearby finds him, charles decides he needs to know you

w/c & a/n: smau | send in ideas for charles I beg 😩

yourusername

liked by friend1, bestfriend, friend2, user1, and 896 others yourusername I found this cute puppy in my yard, I'm going to kidnap him 🎀

view all comments

friend1 HELP ME

bestfriend GIRL YOU CAN'T KIDNAP A DOG 😭

yourusername if it's cute then yes I can

friend2 girl that is definitely someone's dog... maybe you should go knock on doors 🙂

yourusername but hes happy here eating a pup cup 🤧

friend2 yourusername what if his owner sues you

yourusername friend2 I'd win in court for animal abandonment 💪

friend3 AWH HE LOOKS SO SOFTTTT ♥︎ by author

yourusername update: I'm going to return him, he ate my favorite pair of shoes 😔

friend4 NOOOO I NEED TO MEET HIM FIRST

yourusername friend3 BUT HES A MENACE

friend4 yourusername ... a cute one 🥹 ♥︎ by author

user1 I'm getting puppy fever omg

user2 am I tripping or is that leo leclerc

user3 I WAS THINKING THAT

yourusername who is leo 🥸

user3 yourusername GIRL??? charles leclercs puppy....

yourusername user3 you say that like I'm supposed to know who that is

bestfriend user3 excuse her... she lives under a rock

yourusername oh I looked him up and he's so fine holy 😍 

bestfriend charles_leclerc

friend1 charles_leclerc

friend3 charles_leclerc

user2 charles_leclerc

user5 charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc charles_leclerc

friend4 ARTHUR???

yourusername OH MY GOSH YALL SHUT UPPPPP

charles_leclerc yourusername I see leo's in good hands 😉

yourusername I'm going to kill myself.

yourusername charles_leclerc HOW DO I KNOW YOU'RE NOT LYING ABOUT HIM BEING YOURS

charles_leclerc yourusername why would I lie about this 🤨

charles_leclerc why am I arguing over my dog yourusername dm me so I can pick him up please 🙏

yourusername charles_leclerc fine...

user6 WHY ARE WE SO CASUAL ABOUT CHARLES LECLERC BEING IN YOUR COMMENTS???!!!??!

yourusername Idk man I live in monaco so I suppose this isn't that crazy

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, lando, carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and 1,952,170 others charles_leclerc reunited 💪🐾

view all comments

bestfriend yourusername BROOO WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU MET UP ?!?!?!?!?!?!??!

yourusername IM SORRY ILL TELL YOU LATER

arthur_leclerc yourusername  can I gossip with you guys too 🥰 charles keeps going on about you and it's getting annoying

charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc WHY ARE YOU TELLING THEM THAT ⁉️

carlossainz55 hermano do you have a crush? 😏

charles_leclerc MON DIEU NO ‼️

carlossainz55 charles_leclerc it's okay to admit it, talking about feelings is important 🙂‍↕️

charles_leclerc carlossainz55 PLEASE ENOUGH THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING

lando why are we making fun of charles

lando can I join

arthur_leclerc lando leo escaped his apartment and ended up at some girls place who lives near by and he found her through insta and then they met up to return leo and now charles is obsessed with her

charles_leclerc pass me the gun.

yourusername charles_leclerc so you think I'm pretty 😍 I like my men obsessed

charles_leclerc yourusername whattttt haha who said that 😅

lando charles_leclerc and yourusername sitting in a tree, k i s s i n g

charles_leclerc oh my gosh.

lando first comes love, then comes marriage

charles_leclerc lando die.

lando then comes the baby in a baby carriage

carlossainz55 UNBLOCK ME PLEASE ITS LANDO IM SORRY

yourusername justice for lando ✊

carlossainz55 yourusername thank you. I like you

charles_leclerc carlossainz55 just for that you are staying blocked 🥰

carlossainz55 charles_leclerc NOOOO IM SORRY

user7 dang this was chaotic af

user8 charles made himself look extra good for this post to impress a certain someone 😏

user9 he doesn't have to even try though

yourusername user9 exactly

arthur_leclerc yourusername now hes blushing

charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc LEAVE ME ALONE

yourusername I'm not doing anything tomorrow 😊 in case you want to do something

charles_leclerc YES PLEASE

charles_leclerc I mean, yeah sure

georgerussell63 🍿🍿

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, f1, and 2,873,611 others charles_leclerc merci beaucoup leo ❤️

view all comments

yourusername 💗 ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc ❤️

carlossainz55 congrats hermano 🥳 ♥︎ by author

lando YAY IM BACKKKKK

lando 🙂

user10 why are you being so dry

lando user10 im scared to say anything cause he will block me again

charles_leclerc lando im glad you're intimidated

arthur_leclerc YAYY A NEW BESTIE

yourusername you know it 😎

charles_leclerc shoo.

scuderiaferrari bella coppia ♥︎ by author

yourusername grazie mille 🫶

lewishamilton now we just need leo and roscoe to meet 🐶 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 why is she with you

charles_leclerc because I'm just, well, better 😈

georgerussell63 carmen wants me to pass on the message that she's dying to meet your girlfriend

yourusername YESSSSS I'LL COME TO MERCEDES NEXT RACE

mercedesamg yourusername oh yeahhhh 😎

scuderiaferrari mercedesamg back tf off 😤 she's ours 😒

yourusername wow I've never felt so wanted 🥹 #teammclaren

mclaren yourusername HELL YEAHHHH PAPAYA FOR THE WIN

charles_leclerc yourusername MON AMOUR??? HOW DARE YOU 😨

yourusername charles_leclerc sorry love, I've been learning about f1 and so the only thing on my feed is videos of people making fun of ferrari's strategies

scuderiaferrari yourusername next year will be our year 🥲

bestfriend REMEMBER I HAD HER FIRST 😒

charles_leclerc well I have her now so 🫵🏼😂

yourusername ladies ladies there's enough of me to go around

charles_leclerc yourusername im not sharing though 🤺

oscarpiastri so like... what did I miss...

oscarpiastri MY DAD HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOW????

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Heyy same anon from the kpop demon hunters question! Gonna try and not spoil the movie for my request lol, I loved the movie and its message and Ik Jinu wanted to be free but GOD I want him back so I NEED to have him and reader having first time + emotional yearning sex after he comes back in some way plzplzplzplz (Whether reader is a huntrix member or not is up to you haha)

A/n: still fuming about what happened to him, annny who. I hope you like it!

The blood on your hands isn’t yours.

It’s slick and warm and staining your shirt as you clutch Jinu to your chest, half-dragging, half-guiding him into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alive.

But here he is.

Breathing—barely.

“Shit,” you choke out, lowering him gently onto your couch. “Jinu—how—?”

“I missed you,” he says instead of answering. His voice is hoarse, cracked around the edges, like something burnt and broken and still clinging to the memory of being whole.

You press trembling fingers to his cheek, daring to believe what you’re seeing. His skin is pale, his side is bleeding through his shirt, but it’s him. The boy who had sacrificed himself to save you. The boy who vanished in a flash of demonic light while you screamed his name.

“You died, Jinu.”

“I came back.” He shudders, reaching for you with blood-streaked fingers. “For you.”

You break. Collapsing into his chest, you cry against his collarbone, barely noticing the way he winces in pain, arms wrapping tightly around you anyway. You feel like you’re breathing underwater—like you’re drowning in disbelief, relief, and aching joy all at once.

He’s here. He’s here.

“I thought I’d never feel you again,” you whisper into his neck.

His voice is ragged. “Then feel me.”

Your eyes meet his—soft golden, wet with unshed tears. There’s no teasing in them now. No idol’s smirk. Just raw, exposed want… and grief and yearning and need.

You kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate. Frantic. A crash of mouths and teeth and breathless gasps as you straddle his lap. His blood seeps into your clothes, but you don’t care. You cup his face, fingers trembling as you kiss him like it’ll tether him to the world again. Like you can kiss him into staying.

“Tell me this is real,” you whisper against his lips. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “I only feel real when I’m touching you.”

You tug off your shirt, stripping off the remnants of battle-stained clothing. He watches you like you’re something divine, eyes devouring every inch of bare skin as if memorizing you is the only thing keeping him alive.

“Lie back,” you breathe, guiding him down carefully, mindful of his injury. You straddle him again, skin pressed to skin, and he groans as your lips trace his throat.

His cock is already hard beneath you—hot, twitching, and aching with the same hunger you feel in every nerve ending. You reach between you, guiding him to your entrance, both of you gasping when the tip nudges your pussy.

You sink down slowly.

His hands clutch your hips, trembling. You feel every inch of him stretch you open, fill you, claim you like he was meant to be inside you all along. Like his body remembers yours.

“Oh, fuck—Jinu,” you moan, grounding yourself with your hands on his chest.

His voice is wrecked. “I dreamed of this. Every second I was gone, I dreamed of being inside you.”

You ride him slow, bodies molded together like you’re trying to erase the days, weeks, months of loss. Every roll of your hips is a promise. Every breath is a prayer. His eyes don’t leave yours, even as they flutter with each tight clench of your pussy around his cock.

You’re crying again—you don’t know when the tears started—but they fall silently down your cheeks as you move above him. Jinu reaches up, thumbing them away with infinite tenderness.

“I didn’t die for the world,” he says softly, “I died for you. And I came back because… I couldn’t stay gone. Not from you.”

Your body trembles, your climax cresting like a wave of holy fire—raw, sacred, blissful. You gasp his name as you come, pussy clenching tight around him. He cries out beneath you, hips bucking as he spills deep inside you, arms crushing you to his chest.

You lay there for a long while, tangled in each other. Breathing each other in. Hearts pounding in sync, his fingers weaving in your hair keeping you close.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his.

“I won’t,” he vows. “Even if I die again, I’ll find a way back. I’ll always find you.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clung to him as you slowly nodded your head. You believed him and like Jinu, you would find any way to bring him back.

Because he was your soulmate and you'd never leave him behind.

[cod-bin]

you think i don’t notice?

part 2 to don’t tempt me

fuckboy!simon x nerdy!reader

wc: 6.7k

cw: slight mentions of sex, heavy swearing by simon, angst (only a little), angry!simon (not at reader), jealousy

Simon doesn’t leave your room.

Not after he kicks her out. Not after she slams the door like it’s you she’s mad at and not herself for getting caught.

He just… stays.

Sits on the edge of your bed like he has any business being there, like he hasn’t spent the last six months pretending you don’t exist. You, with your messy ponytail and hoodie sleeves stretched over your hands and tissues peeking from under your pillow like some kind of sick gremlin.

You don’t know what to do. What to say.

So you just sip the tea he brought you. Let the silence stretch.

“I thought you hated me,” you say finally, voice still raw.

Simon huffs a quiet sound. “Didn’t say I liked you.”

That makes you smile. Barely. But he sees it.

His gaze flicks to you — sharp, unreadable — and then just stays there. Watching.

You clear your throat and look away, suddenly too aware of how small your bed is. How close his knee is to yours. How he’s still here and hasn’t gone back to texting whatever girl he’d probably had lined up for tomorrow.

Your stomach flips.

You hate him a little. For making you feel like this. For confusing you. For being decent when he’s supposed to be a total ass.

“You can go, you know,” you whisper. “I’m not gonna, like… die or something.”

He doesn’t move. “Didn’t ask.”

“You’re not staying out of guilt, are you? ’Cause of what she said?”

Simon’s jaw ticks. That muscle again.

“I don’t feel guilty.”

“Then why are you—?”

“Because you’re sick,” he says. “And you looked like you were about to fucking cry, and I didn’t like that.”

You blink. Hard.

“Oh.”

That’s all you manage.

Simon runs a hand through his hair and exhales like you’ve exhausted him, like you’re the problem, not the girl who stomped in and insulted you in your own goddamn room.

“You ever gonna tell me?” he says suddenly.

You frown. “Tell you what?”

“Who hurt you.”

Your blood freezes.

“What—?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he says, low. “You flinch every time someone raises their voice. Every time someone touches you. Even when it’s me.”

You look down at your tea.

“It’s nothing,” you lie.

He doesn’t believe you. You can feel it.

But he lets it go.

For now.

You should feel relieved. But something in your chest twists, tight and aching.

You’re not sure when it started — the wanting.

Maybe it was when he wiped your nose without laughing. Maybe when he kicked out that girl without hesitating. Maybe it’s been building under your skin this whole time, slow and sharp like a splinter.

Whatever it is, it’s worse now. He’s too close. Too real.

You curl into yourself, trying to disappear.

Simon shifts. Leans back against your headboard like he lives there.

“You always this quiet?”

You shrug.

“Figured you’d be the type to never shut up.”

You glance at him. “Why?”

He smirks. “Glasses. Big words. You know. Nerd shit.”

“You think I’m a nerd?”

He grins wider. “Don’t play coy. You literally labeled your tea mugs.”

You flush. “I was sick. I didn’t want to—”

“You’re adorable when you’re defensive.”

You blink.

Did he just—?

Simon doesn’t look at you. Just casually tosses it out there like it’s not going to haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

You sink deeper into your blanket.

Then—

Your phone buzzes.

You grab it instinctively, thumb swiping across the screen before your fevered brain catches up.

Simon doesn’t move, but something shifts in the air.

“You texting someone?” he asks.

You glance up.

His voice is too light.

You hesitate. “It’s just— this guy from class. He was asking how I’m feeling.”

Simon’s eyes darken. Just slightly.

“This guy.”

You nod, oblivious. “Yeah. He brought me cough drops once. He’s nice.”

Simon doesn’t respond. Just stares at the wall like it insulted him.

You scroll. Smiling faintly.

Simon’s hand twitches.

“What’s so funny?” he mutters.

“Nothing,” you say, looking up. “He just said I sounded cute when I was all congested.”

You’re teasing. Sort of.

Simon isn’t laughing.

“He say that before or after he asked if you were alone?”

You pause.

“What?”

“Don’t trust guys like that.”

Your brow furrows. “You mean nice guys?”

“I mean guys who see a girl who’s sick and vulnerable and think ‘oh cool, now’s my chance.’”

Your stomach twists. “You don’t even know him.”

“And you do?” Simon snaps. “What, you think he actually gives a fuck how you’re feeling? You think he’s checking in because he cares? No. He wants something.”

You stare at him.

“Why do you care?” you ask quietly.

Simon’s mouth opens, then closes.

His jaw clenches again.

“Because I’m your fucking roommate,” he mutters.

You nod slowly. “Right.”

Silence.

Then—

“You like him?” Simon asks suddenly.

You blink. “What?”

“That guy. You like him?”

You hesitate.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Simon doesn’t move.

Doesn’t breathe.

Then he laughs. Bitter. Mean.

“He wouldn’t last a day with you.”

Your throat tightens. “What the hell does that mean?”

He turns to you. Finally looks at you.

“You think he’d take care of you like this?” he says. “You think he’d sit here while you look like hell and wipe your nose and make sure you’re breathing okay?”

You flinch. “I didn’t ask you to—”

“I did it anyway,” he says, low.

You don’t know what to say.

He exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he mutters. “Whatever this is.”

You stare at him.

“Then why are you here?”

He looks at you. Quiet. Serious.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I keep thinking about you. Even when I don’t want to.”

Your breath catches.

Simon leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clenched.

“I hear you through the walls,” he says. “When you cry. When you laugh. When you talk in your sleep.”

Your cheeks burn.

“I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“You do,” he says. “You said my name once.”

Your heart stops.

“What—?”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease.

Just looks at you like he’s watching something fall apart.

“I don’t hate you,” he says. “I just didn’t know how to not want you.”

The air leaves your lungs.

Simon leans in.

Not close enough to touch.

Just close enough to ruin you.

“If that guy texts you again,” he says, “you tell him not to bother.”

You swallow. “Why?”

He looks at your mouth.

Then your eyes.

“Because I’m the one who hears you through the walls.”

And then—

He kisses your forehead.

Just once.

Soft.

Barely there.

But it shatters you.

Simon pulls back.

Stands.

Doesn’t say a word as he moves to the door.

He pauses.

Glances over his shoulder.

“You need anything,” he says, “you call me. Not him.”

You nod, speechless.

And then he’s gone.

Leaving behind a mug of tea, a thousand questions, and a silence that sounds a whole lot like the start of something else.

You were feeling a little better.

Not good, not normal, but better. Enough to shower. Enough to pull on fresh sweats and eat half a bowl of soup without gagging. Your nose was still red, your eyes still glassy, but the fever was gone, and you could finally breathe without feeling like your ribs might crack.

Still, you hadn’t left your room.

Not since that night.

Not since Simon kicked the girl out, sat on your bed like he belonged there, and touched you like you mattered. Like he saw you for the first time.

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

He’d been distant ever since — not cold, exactly, just… unreadable. No more girls. No more music shaking the walls. He hadn’t said anything, but you could feel him in the quiet. In the way he paused in the hall. In the untouched takeout that showed up outside your door, no note, no explanation.

He hadn’t checked on you again.

And you hadn’t dared knock on his door.

You were curled up in bed, watching some old documentary through one barely-open eye, when you heard it — the heavy thud of boots in the hallway. His door creaked open. Then closed again.

Then silence.

Then your door.

It didn’t open. Just a knock. Once.

Your heart jumped.

“Yeah?” you called, voice still scratchy.

The door cracked. And there he was.

Simon Riley.

Gray hoodie. Sweats slung low on his hips. One hand braced on the frame like he might change his mind.

You blinked. “Hi.”

He stared at you like he wasn’t sure why he came. Like he’d rehearsed something in his head and forgot all of it the second he saw you.

You tugged your blanket tighter. “What’s up?”

Simon didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned you — flushed cheeks, hair still damp from the shower, sleeves too long over your hands. You knew you looked fragile. You hated that he was the one seeing you like this again.

He finally spoke.

“You look like hell.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Thanks.”

He stepped inside anyway.

Shut the door behind him.

Then leaned against it like he had nowhere else to be.

“Didn’t say it was a bad look,” he muttered.

You stared. “Are you flirting with me or trying to pick a fight?”

“Why would I flirt with you?”

“Ouch.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to yours, and something there made your breath hitch.

“I’m just saying,” he said, voice rough, “don’t get any ideas.”

You almost laughed. “Believe me, I wasn’t.”

He pushed off the door and crossed the room like it was nothing. Like this was normal. Like he hadn’t spent months pretending you barely existed.

He grabbed the empty mug off your nightstand. Frowned at it.

“No tea?”

“I drank it.”

“No shit.”

He turned like he might take it back to the kitchen, but you stopped him.

“Wait.”

He paused.

You shifted awkwardly under the blanket, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “Why are you… here?”

Simon didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just looked at you — really looked — and it made your stomach twist.

“You’re still sick,” he said finally.

“I’m getting better.”

“Didn’t ask.”

You huffed, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it to your chest. “You’re being weird.”

He snorted. “You’re the weird one. Sittin’ in here like a damn ghost.”

“I’ve been recovering.”

He looked at you over his shoulder. “From the flu or from getting screamed at by that silicone-sculpted banshee?”

You blinked. “Both?”

He turned back around. Set the mug down. His shoulders were tense.

“You shouldn’t’ve opened the door,” he muttered.

“I didn’t,” you said. “She did.”

He didn’t respond.

Just paced a few steps away, hands on his hips. Like he had too much energy and no clue what to do with it.

“What’s your deal?” you asked, quieter now.

He shot you a look.

You sat up a little. “You’ve been… off.”

“I haven’t.”

“You haven’t brought anyone home in three nights.”

“So?”

“So I’m not complaining, but it’s weird.”

Simon’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something darker. Frustrated.

“Maybe I don’t feel like listenin’ to some brat whine about thread count while I’m tryin’ to—”

He cut himself off.

You blinked. “While you’re trying to what?”

“Never mind.”

You tilted your head. “While you’re trying to pretend you don’t care about me?”

That stopped him cold.

His jaw flexed. His hands clenched. He turned to face you, slow and deliberate.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, low.

You smiled — tired, knowing. “You keep saying that, but you’re in my room.”

Simon stalked closer, eyes dark. “Because you’re sick.”

“You didn’t care before.”

“I didn’t know before.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Silence.

Thick enough to drown in.

Simon stood over your bed, jaw tight, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

You stared up at him, heart thudding. “Why do you care now?”

His gaze dropped to your lips. Then your knees pulled up to your chest. Then back to your eyes.

“You really wanna know?” he asked, voice like gravel.

You nodded.

He stepped closer.

And closer.

Until he was right in front of you, close enough that the heat from his body made your skin prickle.

Then he leaned down, braced his arms on either side of you, and looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that made him feel anything at all.

“I don’t,” he said.

You blinked. Breath caught.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, voice lower now. “You get sick, you get better — not my fuckin’ problem.”

Your chest ached. “Right.”

“But if I hear you cry because of someone I brought into this house again,” he said, tilting his head, “I will lose it.”

You swallowed. “Simon—”

“I’ll lose it,” he said again. “Because I’m not gonna watch someone tear you down when you’re already hanging on by a thread.”

You stared at him. “That… kinda sounds like caring.”

His mouth twitched. “It’s not.”

You smiled. Just a little. “Okay.”

He leaned in closer.

Close enough that his nose brushed yours. That his breath was warm on your cheek.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he whispered.

“You’re worse.”

He didn’t deny it.

And then — without thinking, without warning — his hand reached out. Fingers under your chin. Lifting your face to his.

Not kissing you. Not yet.

Just holding you there, eyes flicking over your face like he was trying to memorize the exact version of you that made him lose control.

“You still feel like shit?” he asked.

“Less like shit,” you whispered.

“Good.”

Then he let go.

Straightened up.

Walked to the door like nothing happened.

Paused there, hand on the knob.

You watched him, heart still racing.

He looked over his shoulder. Met your eyes.

“Don’t go thinking I care.”

Then he left.

And shut the door behind him.

Your room was still too quiet.

You hadn’t said anything since Simon walked out last night.

Not when he brought you soup. Not when he leaned against your doorway and asked, “Need anything?” like it didn’t feel like his voice dragged hot iron down your spine. And definitely not when he stayed longer than necessary, standing there like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start.

You didn’t answer because you didn’t trust your voice. Or your face. Or the way something was cracking open between you two and he didn’t even seem to notice.

But he did.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You were curled under the blanket now, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, glasses slipping down your nose as you flipped another page of the book you weren’t reading. It was easier than looking at the door.

Because you knew he’d come in eventually.

He always did now.

The shift had been slow — from silence to tension, from passing jabs to something warmer, if not softer. But the edge never dulled completely. Not with Simon. Especially not when he didn’t want it to.

You heard the door creak open behind you.

“Still alive, then.”

His voice was lazy. But there was a tightness beneath it. Like he’d been rehearsing sounding casual.

You didn’t turn. “Barely.”

Footsteps. Closer.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered. “House’s been quiet. Almost peaceful.”

You scoffed into your blanket. “Guess your bimbos took the night off.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“I haven’t brought anyone home all week.”

You blinked.

That wasn’t like him. At all.

You turned to look at him, and he was already watching you.

Leaning against the frame. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair messy. Eyes dark.

You said nothing.

He stepped inside.

Something about his energy was different tonight. Less cocky. Less put together. Like whatever was usually holding him upright had been worn thin and now you were seeing what was underneath.

You sat up slowly, pulling your sleeves over your hands again.

Simon’s gaze flicked down. Noticed. Something flickered across his face.

“You mad at me?” he asked bluntly.

You blinked. “Why would I be mad at you?”

He didn’t answer.

You swallowed. “You’ve been… weird.”

Simon huffed a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’ve been weird.”

More silence.

Then he said your name.

Just that.

Soft. Like a question and a warning all at once.

“I don’t get it,” you said finally, because your chest was too full and your head was too hot and everything about him made you feel like you were drowning in something you weren’t supposed to want. “Why are you being nice to me now?”

“I’m not,” he muttered.

You blinked at him.

Simon looked away.

“You’re just…” He exhaled sharply, jaw ticking. “You’re too fuckin’ quiet all the time. And then when you do talk, it’s like you think I can’t hear you.”

You frowned. “What?”

He stepped closer.

You felt the shift in the air immediately. The pull. The way he always managed to fill a room, even without touching anything.

“You think I don’t notice you?”

His voice was low, dangerous in the way a storm is dangerous — not because it’s loud, but because you can feel it coming.

“Every fucking night I brought someone home, you think I didn’t hear you breathing through the wall? You think I didn’t feel it when you went quiet, like you were trying not to exist?”

He leaned closer. You could feel the heat coming off him now, smell the faint smoke of his cologne.

��I see everything, sweetheart. That’s the problem.”

Your heart stopped.

Literally stopped.

“Simon…”

“You think I was ignoring you?” His eyes pinned you in place. “I was. I fucking had to.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I’d come home, see your light on, know you were in here reading some stupid ass book in that dumb oversized hoodie like you weren’t the most distracting fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You flinched. His voice wasn’t angry. But it was so raw it hurt to hear.

“And then I’d go in my room and I’d hear you—just existing—and I’d get fucking mad.” His tongue ran over his teeth. “At you. At me. At the whole fucking situation.”

You sat there frozen.

Still too sick to fight, too overwhelmed to speak.

Simon stepped forward again. You were face to face now, your knees nearly brushing his thighs where he stood.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered. “You never got it.”

“Then tell me.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

“I didn’t bring those girls home because I wanted to,” he said. “I brought them home because it was easier than thinking about you. About the way you look at me when you think I don’t see.”

You swallowed. Your voice barely worked. “You’re always so mean.”

His mouth twitched. “Because I didn’t want you to look back.”

Silence.

He sat down on the edge of your bed like the first night, his knees brushing yours. But this time, he didn’t look away.

“I’m not good at this,” he said, almost to himself. “At—feelings. At being… kind.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffed a soft laugh. Ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He looked at you again. And this time, the weight of it was unbearable.

You shifted. “Why are you here, Simon?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then—

“I heard you crying last night.”

You stiffened.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said. “Just… stood outside the door like a fucking idiot.”

You stared at him. Eyes hot.

“I wanted to come in. But I knew if I did, I’d say something dumb. Or too much. Or not enough.” His voice dropped. “And I couldn’t handle you flinching from me again.”

You blinked fast. “You make it really hard not to flinch.”

“I know.” He leaned in, elbows on his knees. “That’s why I’m trying.”

You stared at him. Hard.

“Do you even like me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled.

Then he said your name again.

Soft.

Real.

“I think I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

You didn’t breathe.

Didn’t dare.

Simon looked away, jaw tight. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You shook your head. “That’s not a problem.”

He turned back toward you.

And for the first time in forever, he looked like he believed you.

Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to break him.

Or you.

You reached for him without thinking, fingers wrapping gently around his sleeve. He stilled. Let you.

He looked at your hand.

Then at your face.

“You’re still sick,” he muttered, but he didn’t move.

You smiled. “I’m always sick.”

Simon’s mouth twitched. His eyes softened.

He leaned in just enough to let his forehead touch yours.

No kiss.

Not yet.

Just heat and breath and a storm that didn’t want to pass.

“I’ll stay,” he said quietly.

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed. “Okay.”

And for once, Simon didn’t run.

part 3

☆☆☆

☆taglist☆

@little-mini-me-world @h0lydrag0ns @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @pixiellove @fruitymoonbeams-blog @jokerivory @arrowacer @4ri3n @yasmin-003 @charliehunnamsleftsock @strawberrymilk99 @queenoflaflames @xigua2kuai5yijin @arnnf @genea-myers @elixir-of-dreams @turtlegreentia @pinkembodiment @bbygirl9

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was when I was working at Red Robin. I was around eighteen and I worked as a host. I answered phones, opened doors, and seated people. The job wasn’t strenuous.

One night, the phone rang. It was fully dark outside. My shift was almost over and my mom was picking me up because I still didn’t have a car of my own. She was waiting in the parking lot when the store phone rang.

I picked up with a chirpy greeting and slammed into a horror movie when a gruff voice informed me that he could see me. He had a shotgun pointed into the building and I’d see brain matter sprayed across the walls if I didn’t do what he said. My brain froze in blind panic. I couldn’t believe this terrible thing was really happening to me.

The restaurant was all windows, visible on all sides by the parking lot except for the kitchen. He could be looking in from any direction, shotgun leveled on customers, or coworkers, or me. “Do you hear me?” he asked.

I stared in blank terror, not answering until he yelled, “Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Yes,” I was so transfixed with fear it hadn’t occurred to me to lie.

“Give me the number.”

My mind suddenly whirred into panicky circles. I couldn’t give some crazy man my phone number, I needed to do something else but I couldn’t make up a number either because my head was pounding with adrenaline. My frightened head latched onto the only other number I had memorized.

I rattled off my mothers phone number.

“You’re going to hang up the phone, walk to the back dumpster with your cell phone in your left hand, and I’m going to call you. No one has to die tonight.”

I stood shaking with the phone pressed to my ear.

“Hang up.”

I hung up the phone. I was trembling, but I knew there was no windows in the kitchen. If I got to the kitchen I’d be safe, and that’s where he told me to go so I could make it there if I just held it together.

I made it to dry storage and met one of the assistant managers exiting. I broke down in sobs and started garbling in incoherent fear. He looked utterly flabbergasted by this, as I had the reputation of being the most level headed of the host staff.

He asked me to wait at the bar. He rushed off to try to finish what he was doing so he could deal with me. I was too scared to leave the kitchen hallway; I huddled as close the end of the bar as I could get without leaving the safety of the wall.

I was sobbing when the bartender looked over and saw me. She gasped in outrage and had me into the managers office in a blink, arms around me asking what was wrong, what was wrong.

I was finally in an enclosed room with a locking door. The gibbering in my head calmed to the point that I relayed the whole thing to the bartender. Near the end, the manager returned. He had my mother in tow.

She was furious, hearing the tail end of my death threat call. Apparently, while sitting in the parking lot she’d received the call I had been too scared to get.

The man had asked if she was me, and she was instantly combative. She didn’t tell him anything, just demanded to know, “Who’s This?” He hung up.

He’d called back once just saying my name and she’d angrily asserted, “No.” He hung up.

My mom was furious and confused and marched into the building. Part of her anger was that I’d given away her phone number. She’s a violently private person. My manager had been making sure the servers knew they didn’t have a host when my mom burst in on a mission of vengeance. He quickly escorted my rampaging mother to the back room and they were both in time to hear I’d received a death threat.

My mom rounded on my manager demanding to know why they hadn’t called the police and he pleaded that this was the first he was hearing about it. The police were called.

My mom and I waited in a booth while my nerves jangled with anxiety. No one had checked the cars outside for shooters and now I was sitting here exposed, surrounded by windows. She tried not to be mad about me giving her number given my emotional state, but she wasn’t thrilled with me.

A police office showed up an hour later. I answered her questions and my manager asked if I wanted anything. Everyone at the table looked astonished when I requested a root beer float. But by god, I wanted one.

The officer assured me that most events like this did not happen on site, that the caller wasn’t here. I didn’t believe the dowdy woman sitting across from me had even bothered to do a security sweep but I drank my float and tried to forget the darkness of the night staring in from all those windows. The clear line of sight on me from every side. The image of brain splattering against the glass divider. I drank more root beer.

I got a day off to calm down. On closing shifts after that my heart would pound when the phone rang and the bartenders all agreed to be on phone duty for me. A private investigator came in one day and I recited the whole event again. He’d been hired by the company as Red Robin’s nation wide had been targeted by the same caller.

The investigator told me he was working on it. That dozens of other businesses across the country had been called. He told me that if I’d given the caller my real number I would have been subjected to sexual assault over the phone.

I was starting to feel stupid. Everyone I told was so sure that he’d never even been present. That I’d never been in danger. The only thing I could console myself with was that many other girls had given him their number, but I hadn’t. I started forcing myself to pick the phone back up on closing shifts.

A few months later I was notified that he’d been arrested. The private investigator hired by a fast food restaurant had done what the police force hadn’t and tracked him down to a small town in the Midwest. My testimony was one of dozens used to convict him and for a while I received checks for 0.23 cents as reparations for the mental distress.

[meenaxskz]

when the bed gave up on life (maknae line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack | light smut warnings: language | suggestive content hyung line | ✧ maknae line

han

He had you face down, ass up, back arched perfectly. You’re screaming. He’s moaning. The mattress is fighting for its life. “Fuckfuck-you’re so good,” he gasps, hair sticking to his forehead. He grabs your hips and snaps his hips forward. “You feel like-like-ugh, fuck, baby-” CREAACKK. SNAP. THUD. The entire bottom half of the bed collapses. Your stomach hits the mattress, knees slide off the edge, and Jisung goes down dramatically. Silence. Then: “…BABE?!” You gasp “DID WE JUST-” He flails from behind you. “OH MY GOD I THINK WE BROKE THE FUCKING BED!" "YOU THINK ?!" He scrambles off you, tripping over a pillow "are you okay?! Did I kill your knee?! Did I paralyze you?!" You rub your bruised hip but also you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe. “I think my spine just spoke Latin.” He sighs and sits up dramatically, sheets tangled around his waist looking like a depressed roman emperor. “THIS BED HAS JEALOUSY ENERGY. SHE COULDN’T HANDLE OUR LOVE.” “...I can’t believe we just broke a bed mid sex.” “I can. We were too powerful. It was me. I did that. With dick.” "Please shut up forever" --- You crawl off the wreckage. He flops back down like he’s in mourning. “You good?” you ask “I just need to lie here. Think about what I had. What I lost. What I could’ve finished.” “Babe. We’re naked on a diagonal mattress.” “I’M A CASUALTY OF PASSION”

felix

You’re on top, hips rolling slow, breath warm against his neck. Felix is gripping your waist, voice already wrecked. “Just like that, angel... fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes, lips brushing your collarbone. You moan softly, head spinning, thighs starting to shake. He pants, “You’re making me crazy... keep going, don’t stop-” CREEEAAKK. CRACK. SNAP. The mattress tilts. You both slide—fully connected—into the corner of the bed frame. Felix lets out the most Australian panic gasp of his life “OH-OH MY GOD” “WHAT JUST-” The bed’s gone. It’s gone. The leg’s bent inward like it lost a fight. A screw rolls past your hand like an insult. Felix blinks up at you, still pinned underneath. Wide eyed. Dazed. “…Did we just... break the bed?” You nod slowly, dazed. “Yeah. Yeah we did.” He covers his face with both hands. “I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC.” You laugh. “We were LITERALLY just grinding. How did we collapse it?!” “I DON’T KNOW BABY, I’M SMALL. I DIDN’T THINK I HAD THAT IN ME.” He sits up carefully, looking around at the wreckage.. Then he immediately cups your face. “Are you okay?? Did I squish you?? Do you need ice?? Or a hug?? Or like… a new mattress??” You’re cry laughing. “Felix your face-” “I THOUGHT I WAS BEING SOFT.” “You were being something.” He buries his face in your chest. “I’m going to cry.” --- Later, you’re lying on the now-floor mattress, still tangled. He looks at you, blushing “Do we… tell the others?” “No. We lie.” Felix sighs. “Okay. But if they find screws, I’m blaming your thighs.” You raise a brow. “My thighs?!” “YES. You were squeezing. You were strong. I was just an innocent man in love.”

seungmin

“You’re moving too much.” “I’m literally on top of you.” “I know. You’re riding me like I owe you rent and this bed was made in 2018.” You roll your eyes and grind harder. Seungmin groans, arms behind his head, jaw clenched. “Shit—okay—fine—do what you want—just don’t blame me when we die.” The mattress creaks. Wobbles. You’re bouncing now, thighs burning, hair clinging to your forehead. Seungmin’s watching you with that look... half-lidded, breathless, deeply unimpressed by how much he's enjoying this. “God you’re insane” he mutters. “You’re gonna send me to church.” “Shut up and tak—” CREEAAKK SNAP. FULL. BED. COLLAPSE. The right side caves in like karma. The mattress slants violently. You fall forward. He slides sideways. He grunts. You shriek. THUD. Silence. Then Seungmin blinks up at the ceiling, deadpan “…Did we just break the bed?” You groan into his chest. “Technically, the bed broke itself...” “Oh my god. Oh my god. I told you!” You roll off of him, breathless and “You’re fine.” “I told you it was weak.” “You were also moaning like I reinvented sex” He points at you, still half-buried in the sheets. “I can multitask.” Later, you’re both lying on the sideways mattress like it’s a sinking ship. Seungmin sips water, glaring at the broken frame. “This is why we can’t have nice things.” You grin. “You mean why you can’t handle this ass.” He snorts. “This ass took us to home depot levels of damage.”

I.N

He’s beneath you, cheeks flushed, biting his lip as he moans under his breath. “Shit you’re gonna make me black out—” You’re riding him like it’s your life’s mission. Hands on his chest, pace unforgiving. “Don’t be dramatic” you pant. “I’m seeing the edge of the universe. That’s not dramatic. That’s spiritual!” You lean back, bouncing harder. He whimpers. “Okay-okay-you’re doing too much-!” “You like it.” “I like living, too.” CREAK. SNAP. CRASH. You drop like a ragdoll. He slides down with you, legs flailing, head smacking the headboard lightly as the bed frame gives the fuck up. You land on top of him in a pile of limbs and sin. He gasps, completely stunned. “…Did you just break the bed?” You blink. “ME?! I was literally doing what you begged for.” “I said slower. Like three times. You were riding like we had a time limit!” You sit up, scandalized. “You were moaning!” “Because I was terrified. You were ruthless. I thought I was being punished!” You shove his shoulder. “You were gripping my hips like handlebars!” He covers his chest dramatically. “I was hanging on for dear life! You were galloping!” --- Ten minutes later, you glance at the crooked frame. “The bed’s dead.” He sighs, stroking your thigh he’s comforting you through your mess. “I mean… it had a good life. But yeah. You finished it off.” “Stop gaslighting me!” He smirks. “I’m just a poor innocent boy. You, on the other hand... thighs of destruction.”

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DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.