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iluvmattsbeard · 2 days

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say it (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: VERY heavy smut and strong language

preview: Matt has been stressed out all day because of filming. his brothers have been on his last nerve. when he gets home, he takes out his frustration on you and he doesn't think you're taking him seriously. so he makes you take him seriously.

a/n: I literally imagine Matt take out his frustration on me 24/7. like yes give it to me lmao. - L 🤍

it was 10 p.m at night. you were waiting for Matt to get home. he was out filming a car video with his brothers Nick and Chris, for their youtube channel. you sat on your bed reaching down at the laundry basket beneath your one foot dangling on the side of the bed. you started folding your clothes neatly as you watched tv.

it’s already been 2 hours since he left at like 8 ish. you yawn still folding your clothes. you always waited for him to get home before falling asleep. you always wanted to make sure he got home safely.

suddenly, you hear the front door opening. you stopped everything you were doing, standing up about to head to the door but you freeze at the loud slam. “i’m home” you hear him yell out from behind the door. he was angry. you open the door and face him. “hey Matt…” you say hesitantly. all he does is look at you giving you a nod before walking to the fridge to grab a root beer. he twists the cap open, then taking a sip. all you do is stare at him before speaking, “how did filming go?” you ask stupidly. Matt then looks at you with a blank stare, “how do you think it went?” he says. “okay so i assume it didn’t go as well.” you say walking up closer to him but he turns away sitting on the couch.

“what happened?” you say turning to look at him crouched forward sipping his drink. “nothing it’s fucking stupid.” he responds clenching the plastic bottle. “well it’s clearly bothering you.” you lean back onto the counter saying. “so it’s not-.” Matt interrupts, “y/n just mind your business.” you knew how he gets when he’s upset. he turned cold and sometimes said stuff that really upset you. “i’m sorry. that was rude of me.” he says placing the bottle on the coffee table. he turns his head looking at you, “it really wasn’t a big deal. i’m just irritated by the fact i can’t ever get a word in without being interrupted.” he says with clear frustration. “Chris won’t ever shut his big mouth. the stupidest shit always comes out and Nick entertains it. every time i try to speak, Chris does it on purpose i swear, he just blurts out something we won’t even be talking about in the moment.” you let out a laugh but shortly stop as Matt darts his eyes at you seriously. “sorry” you mumble out. “see not a big deal since you think its so funny.” he says with a scoff.

you roll your eyes as you speak, “Matt don’t even start. i already said sorry.” his eyes were piercing through yours making you clear your throat. “okay Matt continue please.” you say. “no. you don’t care.” he responds looking away getting on his phone. you groan and shake your head. “fine be like that. i’m going to bed.” before you head to your bedroom, you pour yourself a cup of water and then walk towards the bedroom door.

Matt puts his phone down next to him, shaking his head letting out a scoff behind his smirk. “stop” he sternly says looking at you. you stop in your tracks as you turn around and face him. he stays quiet looking at you up and down before speaking, “put the water down” he says. “Matt i’m going to-.” you let out but he interrupts. “put it down.” with a dominant tone. you put down the water on the counter. you turn to look back at him but you see him walk out onto the balcony. you follow shortly after and join him outside. he was standing there leaned against the railing staring at the city lights. "why are we out here?" you ask confused. he keeps his eyes on the view not saying anything. you let out a soft sigh as you mimic his stance. “Matt-.” you were about to say but he gives you a glare. “you’ll find out.” he responds with a blank face.

eventually he looks away and sits on the arm chair that decorates the balcony. you turn to look at him as you can't help but notice his dark eyes. he leans back into the chair and spreads his legs slightly. he licks his lips raising his hand onto his lap, patting it, "come here" he demands. you nod your head as you walk over to him. you were going to sit on his lap but he sits up stopping you. "on your knees." your eyes widen at the command. "w-what?” you stutter out, “out here on the balcony?” he looks at you with the same glare from earlier. "do it." you nod hesitantly eventually kneeling down slowly. you gulp as you look up at him with your doe eyes. he stays silent as he brings his hands to unbutton his pants not breaking eye contact. he slightly brings down his pants as he pulls out his hard cock into his hand, stroking it.

"you're going to help me. aren't you?" he says. you bring yourself slightly up as you replace his hand on his cock with yours. he brings himself forward a bit. you stroke his dick slowly looking down at it. your hand looked small wrapped around it. slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip, moving with a normal pace. not too slow and not too fast. you use both of your hands to stroke the remainder of his cock that couldn't fit in your mouth. he lifts his shirt up getting it away from your face. he then uses his other hand placing it on top of your head. he then pushes your head down, repeatedly bobbing it, making you tear up from how big his cock is. you take your hand and tap him to signal you can't handle the size hitting the back of your throat. he lets out a small low laugh as he grips your hair continuing to bob your head up and down. "who's laughing now?" he says. you gag slightly every time your head goes down. more tears streamed down your face with your eyes feeling cloudy. "look up at me." he says.

you look up weakly at him as you keep eye contact. he groans at the sight. "what? you can't take it no more?" he asks slowing down the pace he had you at. you couldn't say anything but look into his eyes that were filled with dominance. he releases your head from his grip, pushing you off him softly. you stay on your knees letting out a soft cough as he wipes your drooling mouth. he leans forward grabbing your hands as he pulls you up. once you stood up slowly he lets go of your hands still sitting there. "take these off." he says tugging your pajama pants lightly. you look into his eyes, pulling down your pants, along with your panties, letting them hit the ground. you step out from the soft fabric and laced garment standing there nervously.

you were scared the apartments in front of you could see you guys through their windows. your next door neighbors could also potentially catch you both in the act if they step outside their own balconies to peak. Matt grabs you by the waist, pulling you onto his lap. he immediately pulls you in by your face, attaching his lips with yours. you could feel his hard dick twitch under your entrance as you kiss back eagerly. the kiss was filled with anticipation. he runs his hands down the sides of your body as he lands on your hips.

he keeps them there gripping a little hard as he starts moving you back and forth against his cock, grinding on it not breaking the kiss. you felt yourself getting more wet after each kiss and each hip movement. he then pushes his tongue inside of your mouth as you fight for dominance. of course, he won. you tangle your fingers in his hair as you buck your hips, matching the pace of his hand movements. Matt then pulls away not wasting time attaching them onto your free nipple. you throw your head back slightly by his wet mouth sucking harshly on your hard nip. still grinding on him, he then stops you, also pulling away from your tit as he raises you up a bit. Matt takes his cock into his hand as he slips it into your wet core causing you to slip out a loud whimper. he darts his eyes onto yours as he brings up one hand, covering your mouth. "you don't want to be caught don't you?" he whispers.

you shake your head as he whispers, "okay then keep it down." he places his hands back onto your waist, with you slowly starting to ride him. you bite your bottom lip trying to fight back the noises. his grip gets tighter as you speed up your pace. he pushes you down a bit more making sure every inch of his cock sits inside of you. you wrap your arms around him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. "you enjoy this huh?" he whispers in your ear. you try to make out words but you failed or else moans would fly out. "say it." he says firmly. "y-yes" you finally let out. "then prove it." he says breathlessly. you lean back slightly as your hands rest on his knees behind you. you roll your hips back and forth making sure you were pressed down all the way, having him deep inside. he throws his head back biting his bottom lip hard. you throw your head back as well, gulping down your moans.

"you move your hips so perfectly." he says bringing his head back up straight. he bites his lip again as he watches you continue to ride him. "just like that." he says. you wrap your arms around him, hiding your face into his neck again, still keeping your pace. "f-fuck Matt. your dick feels so good inside of me." you moan in his ear. he smirks as he stops your movement. you sit back up confused.

he leans back into the chair, pulling you up slightly as he starts to take control. the sudden thrusts make you moan out by surprise. "shhh.. just take this dick." he whispers. but you were really struggling keeping it in. the more he heard you fall apart, the more he sped up. he covers your mouth as he pounds harder into you, bruising your pussy. you bite the inside of his hand from the feeling of pain and pleasure. your eyes clouded up again as tears rolled down your cheeks. it hurt so good.

you look up and see your reflection in the window. you saw your tits bounce up and down from his thrusts. the clapping noise that was being made with your guys bodies coming together, started to get louder. you and Matt both look at each other when you hear someone open their sliding door. you widen your eyes as he continues to thrust. his hand was still on your mouth so you tap him signaling to stop. all he does is shake his head.

you grip onto his shoulders with your eyes rolling back feeling your stomach in a knot, indicating you were about to cum. you could feel Matt’s thrust getting slightly tamer; you could tell he was close. after a few more thrusts, you finally released all over his cock almost falling because of how weak you felt. “o-oh fuck” Matt whispers out at your actions. he then pulls you off his twitching cock as he cums on his stomach. you collapse onto his chest weakly as you both lay there out of breath.

after you both caught up with your breathing, you guys continue staying quiet, knowing your neighbor is outside on their balcony. but thankfully, after a bit they went back inside. you and Matt look at each other and let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

a/n: likes and reblogs are appreciated! - L 🤍

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mphountitled · 3 days

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𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Lee Anton x Fem!Reader

- Summary: desire triggered by his need to take care of you

- Warnings: Language, Codependency, So Slight!Toxic relationship, Humor, HighMaintenance!Reader, Bimbo!Reader, Hyperfem!Reader, Possessiveness, Smut+18 (mdni), Coercion, Ownership kink, Needy!Anton, Dependancy Kink?,Premature Orgasm, Dom/Sub Themes, Dubious Consent, PiV, Dirty Talk, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Subspace

Despite the hushed cacophony filling the entire bar, Anton cannot help but think his table is the loudest of them all. Shotaro and Eunseok’s back-and-forth does nothing to allay that slight trickle of embarrassment that crawls up the back of Anton’s neck and he lightly rubs his face with both hands, wanting nothing more than to sink into the bar's leather seats. He wonders when you’ll arrive… You were supposed to be here already. To save him from his friends and their incessant banter.

Anton was perpetually filled with anxiety but this was an all time high.

"You're covering this round. It's your round," Eunseok says very sternly as the bottom of his beer glass hits the wooden table. His lips are pursed as he swallows his drink but his eyes are dead serious. Eunseok rarely had to say anything above an unreasonable decibel and Anton was much the same in that regard. When Eunseok said something the first time, people usually listened. He rarely had to speak up for a second time but Anton supposed that was why God made Shotaro. To infuriate Eunseok.

"We've all covered our rounds,” Anton sinks further in his seat, whipping out his phone as he immediately scrolls into your chat. He types his ‘Where are you?’ with the urgency of a broken man and he frowns when you don't respond within the immediate minute.

Anton did not like that.

He much preferred you when you were messaging him compulsively, especially when the two of you found yourselves apart.

He suddenly wishes he never told you to go ahead and have your shopping day in the district.

But you had pleaded so prettily…

“Its not like I’m going away for good Chanyoung, I promise I'm just going to shop in the district for the day,” You were already interlocking your van cleef bracelet around your wrist (a bracelet that he bought) and Anton had watched from his post lying lazily on the hotel bed with much suspicion. His headphones hung lazily from his neck while he mixed and mastered various beats on his laptop.

“Who’s taking you shopping?” He hoped his inquiry sounded less like a crazed control freak and more like innocent questioning.

All you did was turn and crawl up towards him on the bed. Anton’s body immediately tensed and he pushed away his laptop, quickly making room for you to straddle his suddenly charged frame. Anton’s eyes were wide as he looked up at you and his hands held a slight tremor as they rubbed feather light circles on your hips.

“Well, you are, babe,” Your words barely registered in Anton’s fogged up bain because you were bending down now, and your lips were tickling the side of his ear as your left hand drifted down his clothed torso, “This is my first time in Japan, baby,” Your whispers sent the boy hurtling into that very primal part of his brain that was only filled with one thought and one thought alone. Taking you right here in your hotel room.

“You want me to have a good time , don't you? That's why you invited me?” Anton's brain had been reduced to mush and his grip on reality was fumbling by the minute. All he could think about was your hand lining his Louis Vuitton boxers,

“Yea-” his voice cracks and he lifts his hips ever so slightly, trying to steer your hand to the right place, “You want me to have a good time on this trip right?”

You were absolutely diabolical. Watching his eyes flutter shut as the Tokyo sun drifted through the curtains, extenuating every needy twitch along his visage.

“Yeah,” he whispered again, “Fuck, I’ll give you anything,” In complete vulnerablility he said, “I’ll do anything, just… carry on-” The smirk on your face grew until you were swiping your palm over the hard bulge in his sweatpants only momentarily before you drifted your hand to his left pocket. The little amount of contact was enough to have Anton raggedly exhaling as his hips stuttered and a rash shiver wracked through his spine.

You sit back up again, on your haunches, still straddling him with his wallet in your hands.

“Shopping allowance, please and thank you,” You hand him the wallet with both hands and a bowed head. The smile is still ever present on your face.

Anton rolls his eyes, turning his head to stare out at the Tokyo metropolitan beyond. His whisper is starkly incredulous as he mumbles a quiet “This Girl, 진짜,”

“Quick,” you had urged, now bouncing in silent anticipation as you waited for him to hand over what it is you needed. In that very second, Anton's hand digs into your hip. “Don't do that,” he cleared his throat, immediately stopping your excited bounce, “Or you’re really not going shopping,”

In hindsight, Anton should have perhaps withheld his card and forced you on this dinner with friends. However, he also couldn't deny the very suspicious ache in his gut that curled and coiled during these times when you needed him. It makes his head dizzy with lust.

Anton shoots yiu anothsr quick message (where the fuck were you?) before quenching his dry mouth with his beer.

Shotaro's scoff is enough to have a very deep shadow settling across Eunseok's already darkened gaze, and Anton is immediately brought back to the situation at hand. This round has continued to go unpaid with Shotaro, ever the stubborn bull.

If he weren't so big, Anton would've liked to imagine himself curling in on himself. He wanted to crawl into his bulky Gucci sweater and stay there until the conflict allayed itself and everyone went back to drunken, inebriated conversation and he continued to sit there longing for you. Whatever it took to evaporate from the tension brewing like the dreaded contents of a witch's cauldron.

"Okay, well I don't feel like paying for anyone's drinks," Shotaro folds his arms in defiance and juts his nose up to the sky, all while turning his head very smugly. Such was the by-product of a drunk shotaro. He became incredibly unreasonable and incredibly juvenile. Like a child that needed to be coaxed into doing anything but rarely did what you asked.

Anton could see that Shotaro was quite pleased with himself. Shotaro was always pleased with himself for being stubborn.

A look of complete and utter distaste stretches across Eunseok's face as he nods slowly, "You're a child."

"I'll be a child." Comes Shotaro's rebuttal, "A child that's not covering this round-"

Anton observes this from his corner, his perfect conflict-free corner, how Eunseok's jaw tightens and his fist squeezes tightly around his glass. Eunseok was the least affected by any intoxication, whereas Shotaro, Sungchan, Wonbin and Sohee all devolved into juvenile states of their sober selves, Eunseok stayed much the same, being able to carry his liquor with the most dignity in the whole bunch.

Eunseok's voice is deadly now as he says, "Hyung I swear to god-"

"Jesus, stop being kids!" Anton finds his voice somewhere amongst the rubble of this conversation. That's the kind of drunk he is… the confident one "'I’ll cover this round, just stop fighting, God-”

Anton’s hand is already reaching into his denim jeans, patting idly for his wallet.

“Would you look at that,” Eunseok says, sending Shotaro the deadliest glare he could muster, “An actual adult.”

This statement only brought about a fresh conflict, which Anton disrupts with his slightly deflated interjection.

“Uh… guys…” One by one, they all snap their eyes towards him and Anton's shoulders sag as he says.

“One of you are gonna have to cover this round- I don't have my card,”

“Why don't you have your card?” comes Sungchan’s interjection before Wonbin slips in, “That's very irresponsible of you, Ant-”

Anton was already sliding his way out of the booth, cupping his hand over the speaker of his phone as he made his way outside the bar. He smiles awkwardly to passersby as he listens to the ring, hoping to God he'd hear your voice in the very next second. All it takes is 4 agonising rings.

“Hiya-”

“Where are you right now?” The stress and worry confounding your boyfriend's voice has you staring guiltily at the bags you'd dropped onto the hotel bed.

“Um…” You swallow thickly, “Church,”

“Church.” Anton scoffs, before lowering the phone to check all the messages he's received from his bank. His voice returns to the receiver as he says, “I didn't know they sold overpriced makeup supplies at church,” he leans his head against the nearest wall, feeling his anger slip away the longer he's in conversation with you. Just hearing your voice had this supernatural effect on your mood. He knew he was a goner.

“W-Well... it was a ... sale! Yes, a church sale, the money's going to charity! Praise the lord-”

“The only charity that money - my money is going to is to you.” Sensing that you were gliding on thin ice and having just arrived at the hotel room, you quickly dropped your bags and all your bought commodities- hoping to make it to the bar before you really got to see your boyfriend mad.

Your phone is cradled between your neck and ear as you walk.

“B-But I just saw a really nice new pallette and - ‘support Rihanna’ is what I always say.” Despite the stupid smile on Anton’s face he tries to remain completely and utterly serious, “Rihanna has people who support her.”

“Just like how you support me.” Your words have Anton nearly sinking into the fucking pavement. They immediately scratch a very sensitive part of his ego that he did not even know existed. If he could purr, he fucking would.

“W-Where are you right now?” There's a wobble in voice as Anton pushes himself off the wall, making quick work to get as close to you as humanly possible. He makes his way back into the bar, approaching his friends with his phone still locked in his grip with you still on call.

“Oh-” Eunseok chirps up, “Did you get your card-”

“You're all adults,” Anton says, “You can cover the bill,”

When he lifts the phone to his ear again it's to say, “Don't leave the hotel, okay?”

You immediately stop your brisk walk through the corridor.

“I'm coming home.” There was a firmness in his voice that had your innards splashed in molten lava. You swallow very thickly as you slowly turn around, making the walk back to your hotel with Anton still on the line.

“You there, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe out, feeling unnecessarily dizzy as you try to make it to Anton’s hotel room with actual coordination. “You wanna tell me about what you bought while you wait?” Your palm grazing the ice cold doorknob of the hotel door does little in quelling the heat that had ignited along the expanse of your skin. Everything feels to light suddenly. This tiny sundress you had slipped into, suddenly feels like a fucking torture chamber. Your shoes feel unnecessarily constricting, even your braids feel tight in their high ponytail. You need to get rid of it. All these layers.

“Well I stopped by multiple no name boutiques in the district.” There's idle conversation on the other line before you hear the distinct noise of a door opening and closing, “I'm right here, baby,” He urges you onward and you release a slightly wavering breath before undoing the laces of your pumps at the door. “W-Well I found really cute dresses in one of the little shops-”

“How many?” Anton’s voice cracks against his will, only causing you to breathe even heavier into your receiver clutched in both hands, “5 or 6 dresses,” you say, “Really nice ones.”

“What else did you get?”

You pad your way to the bedroom, lowering yourself onto the Egyptian linen as you eye the bags in the corner, “I got lingerie too. It was a Victoria’s Secret Pop-Up that I wasn't really expecting-”

“Fuck,” Anton whispers silently before immediate saying, “Open the door,”

Your head snapped up, complete and wholeheartedly surprised that he had already arrived in such quick notice. “H-How-”

“The bar wasn't very far,” he says impatiently, “Open the door, Please-”

Anton's voice is strained over the phone and it's equally as strained when you whip open the door. “Ant, I-”

Your words immediately drown under the weight of the kiss that Anton smashes against your lips. He immediately crowds you by the doorway, pushing the door shut with his foot as he pushes you up against the wall, his tall frame hunching over yours. He kisses you desperately, and fervently, it barely registers when you mumble against his flush lips, “Shoes,” you attempt to say, but your boyfriend's hands are both cradling your cheeks and he doesn't pull away. You, however, are adamant as you say, “Shoes- Anton,”

“Wha-” He pulls away only slightly, his big eyes searching your face for any extra surface area that needed kissing. He wanted to fucking eat you alive he was so charged with need and want. “Your shoes, Big Boy,” you pat his hand still firmly on your cheek, “Take your shoes off.” You lightly coax him out of his sneakers before smiling up at him with your lopsided swollen lips and smeared lipstick. Your hand interlocks into his as you lead him deeper into the apartment and he follows like a limp piece of skin, a helpless puppy with no sense of direction other than your safe navigation. “You have lipstick on your face,” You giggle before leading you both into the bedroom of the suite.

“I don't care-” Anton says, before immediately setting his eyes on the myriad bags sitting idly in a corner. All sorts of labels were affirmed on the cardboard faces of each bag and Anton looked back at you. You at least had the gall to appear sheepish, twiddling your thumbs in front of you like a child awaiting her scolding. “No name boutiques in the district, huh?” There's a teasing in Anton's voice as he walks closer towards you. Your heart rate picks up as you avoid eye contact. Choosing instead to keep your gaze on Anton's chest, which, almost far more harrowing, is being covered by a thin compression shirt. He looked borderline edible, and you couldn't stop yourself from drenching your panties at tye very sight of him. “Just ‘5 or 6 dresses, huh?”

The smile on Anton's face is teasing, and damn near friendly as he locks his hands behind his back, only waltzing closer and closer. “I don't know w-why I said tha-”

You're tripping backwards onto the bed, appearing even smaller underneath a looming, confident Anton. He must be drunk.

“How much did you and your friends have to dri-”

“Are you already wet?” You concluded quite quickly that Anton and his friend did in fact already have a lot to drink. Heyes licks his lips before descending on you until he's hovering slightly above you with his single chain dangling just above your head. There was no concrete way to deal with confident Anton, you just sort of, had to take it all in stride until he was sober enough to be embarrassed about his forwardness.

You try to wiggle yourself out from under his frame but Anton was already beginning to leave wet kisses on your neck, licking and suckinv at the skin while producing the most obscene sounds known to man. The stretch your legs have to endure is immesuarbla as he slots his hips between your steepeled legs. Anton lets his hand slip underneath your sundress as he continues with his face buried in your collarbone, exposing you to the fresh, oceanic scent of his shampoo as his lips begin to lick over your clothed chest.

“I need you to already be wet-” he mumbles, and you gasp at the sensation of his palms drifting over the soft curve of your stomach. You unconsciously lift your hips higher, immediately mystified by his ministrations. It was an evil plot. Anton knew how absolutely quickly you were able to slip into subspace by tummy rubs alone.

“I need you wet, baby, ‘cus I don't have the patience for foreplay right now…”

“Anton-”

With his left forearm digging into the egyptian linen, Anton’s body acts as a great big shield, hiding you away from the afternoon sun bleeding through the floor to ceiling windows.

“Condom,” you begin to say but your words are already escaping you and you're drifting off into that fuzzy, foggy pink wonderland. “Ant- we needa-”

He shuts you up with a small peck on the lips, unbeknownst to you, he's already pulling his cock out and positioning the head right at your weeping entrance. “It'll be quick.” he says with a second kiss, “I'll pull out I promise.”

“B-But you're intoxicated- holy fuck!” He slowly eases the head of his cock through your folds and the lubrication from both your arousal aids in making the process less painful but certainly not less uncomfortable. “F-Fuck-’

“I'm your boyfriend,” Anton breathes out as he pushes his cock further in, “You're not exactly taking advantage of me.” unable to stop himself from slamming his cock in, Anton winces at the tight grip your cunt has him in. He needed this so fucking badly. He needed your warmth, your presence. The world seemed completely and utterly meaningless when you were there to provide meaning for him.

“Fuck, you're so tight, you're so tight, so, so tight-”

You're a whimpering drooling mess underneath him, with your head rolled to the side, eyes half lidded I ecstasy as Anton made avid use of your body with his deep strokes that only grew more and more rough. “Fucking, fuck-”

“J-Just like that, An- please don't stop-'' your breath is knocked out of you the deeper he goes and the discomfort quickly bleeds into pleasure. A pleasure so profound you're arching your back for him, forcing his cock deeper. Anton's grunts turn into a slew of tiny, pathetic whimpers and you unconsciously squeeze around him as he bullies his cock further and further into your soaking cunt.

“You're making such a big mess, you know that?” You could feel it. Your wetness was seeping into the linen underneath you and all you could do was whimper silently, bottom lip protruding as you took every bit of everything he had to give.

“Quick,” he keeps whispering in his light-as-a-feather voice, “It’ll be quick, then maybe when we're down we'll go back down to the bar, yeah?” Anton’s mind is completely clouded with lust and ruts into you deeper and deeper, his pelvis brushing against your puffy clit.

“You wanna sit there with my cum leaking out of your cunt baby-”

“Anton! You said you wouldnt-”

“For the fantasy, baby,” he places a reassuring kiss against your lips before parting those lips as he hits a particularly deep spot inside. “I-Its for the fantasy baby, relax.” You're both breathing into each other’s mouth. The coldness of his chains hits your chin in intervals and you're both sure that you might die of overstimulation. “You're so much work, you know that? So mich fucking work-”

“A-Ant I'm gonna cum-” You could feel your orgasm wanting to snap and your words only spurred him on quicker, “Fuck, me too-”

“Oh God, you feel so good,” His eyes were squeezed shut, so completely lost inn his own pleasure that he barely registered you slipping into your own orgasm. All Anton coukd feel was your cunt tightening around him before he nearly spilled inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh- fuck-” Anton clumsily grabs ahold of his cock already spurting cum before he's milking the rest out over your wrinkled, messy sundressm “Jesus- FUCK!” it was the loudest you ever heard him and your chest rises and falls as you watch Anton make a complete mess of you as if you truly were nothing more than an object. His object

“F-Fuck,” Anton slumps over beside you but not before dragging you in by his side. It's like he wanted to live in your skin.

“I can't believe you came inside me.”

“didn't mean it,” He says, before nuzzling into your neck, already drifting off to a land where you never ever left him, even for a moment.

#riize #riize x reader #riize smut #lee anton #anton #anton x reader #anton smut #lee anton imagines #lee anton smut #lee anton x reader #lee chanyoung x reader #lee chanyoung #lee chanyoung smut #riize imagines #anton x you #riize anton

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jewish-vents · 2 days

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I am about ready to scream at goyim going "imagine if a country that was mostly one religion committed genocide other than Israel! imagine any other country being that awful!" I AM JEWISH AND CHOCTAW. My people have been massacred, forced off our land, raped, beaten, killed, death marched down to Oklahoma, forced into residential schools, been denied tribal membership and access to the reservation (and our own fucking culture) for being too light-skinned, Christians came in and beat and killed and raped everyone trying to practice our ancestral religion, Christian charity was contingent on you being willing to go along with Christianity, the government that has its' boot on our neck to this day is Christian, and goyim really want to act like NO ONE religious has ever done anything bad other than (((some people)))?! Choctaw women are STILL raped and beaten by police at four times the rate of white people and you know what the dominant religion in the state it's being done is? Hint, it's not Judaism!

Do you know why my ancestors converted, goyim? It's because the only people who ever offered them any kindness or support who weren't asking them to give up their language, culture and way of life were Jewish. The only people who agreed being forced off of your land and death marched to Oklahoma was fucked up were Jewish people. The only one who would let my great-great-great-great grandfather work for an honest day's pay and pay him the same amount they would a white person was a Jewish man. When white people wanted to take my great-great-great grandfather and his sister and put them in an Evangelical school to indoctrinate and mistreat them, it was a Jewish woman who straight up lied to them and went, "oh they're not Native, they're my kids, actually! no need to take them anywhere, they're not Native, they're white, the father of my bastards is just tan from working outside a lot!" and thus kept them out of there. They converted because they saw the love of G-d and it sure as shit wasn't from Christians!

And people see me and they think, "oh, he's not white, so he must not be Jewish. I can say antisemitic shit in front of him" and it makes me want to go fucking feral. Do they think I just forgot why my ass is in Oklahoma and why I can speak English and Yiddish and not fluent Choctaw? Do they think I forgot who gave my family a plot of land to live on when my ancestors were declared too light skinned to be allowed to live on the reservation while also not being able to return home because white Christians had built a town atop the ruins of my people's land? Because it wasn't you, Karen. You would have been saying Native kids were better off at a residential school and we both know it! We know it because you're fine hating a minority if you just have something you can spin into an excuse and you're fine dehumanizing people if the opportunity presents itself. "Imagine if any other religion-" I don't have to imagine. I'm in Okla-fucking-homa, Karen!

I've been observant all my life but this has switched it from 'lazily observant' to 'digging my heels in and being as Jewish as humanly possible' for the same reason I work my ass off learning Choctaw despite the obstacles: white goyim do not own me and I do not owe it to them to conform to their culture and expectations.

Am Yisrael Chai Akostininchi li Yisrael

(yes I know how to say it in Choctaw, my parents embedded that in my psyche, even if the rest of our knowledge of the language is spotty)

#jewish vents #antisemitism #genocide tw #american his #anti-native racism #Choctaw

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k4lenz · 2 days

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HIII, can i request hobie x reader nsfw but its not like all rough n stuff .. its gentle & caring basically “making love” or wtv from hobie’s POV

-🧼

making love ✮ hobie brown x fem!reader

a/n: HIII!! this is such a cute idea thankyou ! guys i <3 🧼 my requests r open if you like this content!!! word count: 1.4k!!! notes: soft, SMUT!!!, affectionate, 'making love', hobies pov, praise, bro is down bad n pussy whipped but also loves everything about you n would do anything for you, he's a cutie, unprotected, he nibbles on ya, established relationship?, bro wants to warm you up *eyebrow wiggle*, no use of y/n, praise ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 You were gorgeous. At least, that was the first thought running through Hobie's mind as you whimpered beneath him. You were both wrapped up in the blankets of your bed, it was a freezing cold night like usual in the UK, and you were cuddled up together for warmth. He'd wrapped his arms around you the minute he saw you shiver, and he'd even made you a warm drink earlier. "Ya cold, innit? Drink up. How's this gon' warm ya up? D'ya not trust me, honey?" He hated seeing you cold. You'd call him your heat pack, your teddy bear, more often then not, and he'd laugh it off but secretly? He liked it. He wanted to be your comfort. He loved being able to stay in with you, it was like all his worries and responsibilities faded away. He wasn't Spider-Punk, he was just Hobie. Nothing about the outside world came in between you two in the moments shared together. He'd claimed earlier, after you said that you were still freezing to death and his drink didn't work, that he knew the perfect way to warm up. So now here you were. He laid on top of you, you both wore pyjamas but he was softly rolling his hips against your own. Eliciting a soft shudder to run down your spine. He chuckled deeply against your skin, starting to tug down your pyjama pants. Lowering and pressing a slow kiss to your underwear teasingly, making you squirm as his lips applied pressure against your clit through the cloth. "So pretty, doll. You don't even realize it.." His cockney accent was soothing to your ears, he knew you had a certain fondness for it and he enjoyed teasing you with it. Let it be random whispers in your ear with filthy words, coming up behind you in the kitchen and murmuring a simple 'I love you'. Anything, really. He kissed along your thighs too, watching your eyes fog with lust. He liked making you react so well. "Hobie." You whined, and he found it adorable. You were irresistible.

"Mhm?" He had to stifle a laugh, you just looked so cute. "Please." And who was he to deny you? He pulled his pants and boxers down in one swift movement, his two-toned lips peppering your face with sweetness as you scrunched up, giggling a little. He couldn't help but look at you adoringly, you were just so.. Cute? Sweet? Everything he'd ever dreamed of? He smiled fondly, unable to take his eyes off of you. You smiled back. He pulled your underwear down teasingly, fanning his breath on your body as you made yourself more comfortable on the bed. Both of your clothes since discarded on the floor, neither of you were thinking about them of course. Hobie moved a little closer to you with a wink. He liked the contact, physical affection was his love language. His hands slowly parted your legs, always giving you a look to see if anything had changed in your expression or if you were feeling uncomfortable. Soothingly smoothing his hand over your thigh until he knew you were ready. He rubbed his throbbing hard-on up and down your slit, the tip catching on your clit and making you gasp. He slowly eased himself into your slick cunt with a pleased sigh until his hips met yours. Bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, meant for each other. Soaking in your moan as he stretched you just like he had many times before, admiring you roll your eyes to the very back of your skull. "Ready, sweet lil'thing? Ay?" He observed you barely manage a "Y-Yeah." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck as he started to push in and out so gently, his cock rubbing your cervix perfectly. And he knew it, smugly, because all he had to do was look at you to see the pleasure written on your pretty face. Rolling his hips back and sliding into you at a slow pace so he could hit all the right spots. This didn't need to be quick or rough, you two just needed each other. This wasn't just sex, it was soft and intimate. It was making love. You let out a whimper into his mouth as he thrusted steadily, but particularly deep. He groaned against your warm skin, obsessed with the way you felt against him. "Good girl, dove.." Neither of you felt a need to rush, more to be in the moment. He ran his hands along your hips, feeling your smooth skin. The only thing on his mind was you and your pretty little cunt.

Your lips were parted, taking heavy breaths. He listened to your breaths and watched you melt. He felt like he'd won the lottery with you. "Feelin' good?" He whispered in your ear, smiling and listening to your soft moans as he fucked you unrushed and good. It'd been a while since he'd been able to do it like this, you were both busy lately. Him being a famous vigilante, you with work. But you'd always make time for each other, and spend it in the right ways. "So good, Hobie— Mmmhh.." He felt your words echo through him, and your hands resting on his chest. Not digging your nails into his skin, just resting there feeling his heartbeat. Your body sinking into the bed and your eyes fluttering closed as you both really got into it. "Love ya, Shit. Love ya 's much." He mumbled, pressing kisses along your jawline and lower to your neck affectionately. The coil in his stomach slowly winding as your pussy clenched around his dick. He nibbled the skin of your neck when you clenched on purpose, watching you react gleefully with a giggle cut off by a moan. His own large hands rubbing up and down your waist, the cool metal of his silver rings against your heated flesh making you squirm. One of his hands traveled down his thumb starting to gently stroke your clit and hit your cervix at the same time. Eliciting a mewl from you, which is all he wanted, really. He could tell the deliberate pace he was taking was driving you insane in all the right ways, he knew you loved when he did it like this. It was fuzzy and intimate, genuinely sweet and caring. Almost relaxing, like there was nothing else in the world but the echoes of your sounds mixing together in the bedroom walls. Your eyes quickly opening as you reached the brink of your orgasm. "Close.." You gasped, rolling your head back. And he grinned. Your neck stretching back and complexion glistening with a bit of sweat. You were so god damn wet for him too, the only word he could use to describe you was ethereal. Hair messy, body stretched out, legs wrapped around his waist for the perfect positioning. Could this get any better? "That's adorable. You can do it, babygirl. Be good and come all over my cock. Hm?" He massaged your clit more, your thighs trembling as he pushed you over that edge you so desperately needed. Seeing your hips roll back in ecstasy? It drove him insane. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck.. H-Hobie! Ah!" You chanted, slurring a mix of his name and curses. Tightening hard enough around him as your orgasm hit for him to release too, grunting and spilling himself deep inside you. Pleasure racking through both of your bodies in waves as he rested on your chest. Slowly fucking you through both his and your orgasm with sloppy wet thrusts. Panting for air.

"Am I.. really that good luv?" He chuckled as you panted for air, although his tone was breathless as well. Leaving hickeys in his wake as he nipped and sucked at your skin. "Shut up, Hobes." You laughed, pulling him into you and moving so you were laying on the bed fully together and intertwined. It was practically impossible for you two to get any closer.

"Y'warm now?" "Absolutely. I'd say that's my new favorite way of warming up." He heard your voice get sleepier with each syllable. He'd be more then happy to lay like this for the rest of the night, and so he did. Minutes passing by like seconds. Staring at your relaxed blissed out face as your head rested on the pillow, eyes shut."G'night." He whispered, even though you were already fast asleep in his arms. He was slowly lulled to sleep by the sound of your breath and the rain softly pattering against the window.

#atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brainrot #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #hobie brown x fem!reader #smut #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie smut #atsv x you #hobie x you

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orange-orchard-system · 3 days

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When I think of how I prefer to refer to myselves and how I want others to refer to me-us, my plurality takes precedence over any kind of gendering.

I don't want people to look at me and see a man, woman, or anything else. I want them to see a system. I want them to refer to me in the plural. I want my plurality to be explicit, up-front, bold and in your face each time you talk about me. Make it as casual, as undeniable, as sure as stone; I am a system and that is just as, if not more, important as anything related to my gender(s). It's a core part of who I am.

I'm not just a sibling, brother, or sister; daughter, son, or child; niece or nephew – I'm a system, and that colors my relationships with family. I'm not just a boyfriend, girlfriend, joyfriend, datemate, partner – I'm a system, and that colors my relationships with potential partners. I'm not just a miss, mister, mistrum, mixter, masteress, or any other kind of honorific – I'm a system, and that colors my relationships with everyone who crosses paths with me; with everyone who knows me well enough to refer to me in such ways. My plurality heavily impacts how I navigate the world, and how the world navigates its relationship with me – so why not reflect that?

If I could, I'd be requesting people use not just plural pronouns to refer to me, but an entire category of plural explicit language. There are some words like that here and there, but I hope in the future we'll be seeing more coined and built and carved from the languages we use, as systems become comfortable and confident enough in being openly themselves that they can push not just for acceptance, but explicit inclusion.

The future is plural. And that future includes language for systems like We-I, who – to put it lightly – are dissatisfied with our current options in how we are referred to.

#plurality #pluralgang #actuallyplural #plural system #front soup.txt #I know getting people to look at me and see a s.ystem may be a bit of an extreme wish #but I don't believe the language half of it is

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teejaystumbles · 3 days

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Idea/Ask for Mermay?

I love the line: "A bird may love a fish but where would they live?" With mermaid/dreamling twist?

Thanks! :)

this made me go feral over the idea of harpy!Dream and merman Hob! I wrote this in about two-three hours and it's not edited or anything but I hope you like it even if the question where they would live is not answered 😅

I may write more for them/expand on this scene or draw them, but it won't be today.

Anyway Happy Mermay everybody! Let's gooooooo!

Dream sees the glint of scales under the waves and veers in its direction. With a smirk he drops down, claws outstretched-

When he realises his mistake it is too late. He cannot break his descent without risking dropping into the sea. His claws glance off the coppery scales, leaving long sharp scratches behind. A long copper coloured fishtail rises from the water and slaps at him, missing Dream's right wing only by a few centimetres. He hastily pulls himself up into the air again with a heavy flap of his wings and stares down in disbelief.

A dark-haired man's head rises from the waves and yells at him, "Oi, mate, watch it! I'm not a fucking sturgeon!"

A merman! Dream has heard of such creatures before but he has never seen one in his life. Admittedly, he has not been around these shores for long. He cocks his head, curious. The merman frowns and shouts, "Hey, I've never seen you around here before. Aren't harpies usually living in the South? Where it's warmer?"

Dream scoffs and flaps his wings again to stay in the air.

"If you want to interrogate me, perhaps you can accompany me to a place where I can rest my wings. I'm not a seagull, I can't just land on the water."

The merman stares at him open-mouthed, a perplexed look on his face. Dream frowns. Has he not used the correct language? But then the merman nods and flaps his tail. There's a blush on his cheeks and he pulls at the fin on the side of his head where an ear would be.

"Yeah, sorry, 'course. Follow me. It's not far, there's a rock close by."

Dream had seen the rock earlier and nods before steering towards it. The merman ducks back into the water and with a flash of his brown-golden fin he is off, faster than Dream expected. He follows, pondering his decision. What is he doing, seeking conversation with this being? He is not usually one for social interaction. He came here to be alone.

Hob notices the shadow above and thinks it’s just a gull flying overhead. He doesn’t look up, there’s no flying predator large enough for a merman to worry about. When suddenly a sharp line of pain is scored into his flesh he thrashes his tail on instinct, trying to knock the attacker down. What the fuck?

He surfaces quickly and looks up. There’s a giant bird flying above him, flapping its black wings to gain some height and distance from Hob’s fin. Except it’s not a bird. It’s a man with bird wings! A harpy, his memory supplies.

Angry and shocked, he shouts the first thing that comes to mind: "Oi, mate, watch it! I'm not a fucking sturgeon!"

He feels stupid straight afterwards, talking to a stranger like that, what if the harpy can’t even understand him?

Hob has heard about harpies. They don’t live in these colder climates, though, or at least that’s what he’s been told. They stick to the Mediterranean, being sensitive to cold. Shows how much there is to learn still. Hob loves to learn new things.

The bird man cocks his head as if considering Hob’s words. He shouts again, testing if the creature can understand him, "Hey, I've never seen you around here before. Aren't harpies usually living in the South? Where it's warmer?"

The harpy scoffs, a very human sound and says, "If you want to interrogate me, perhaps you can accompany me to a place where I can rest my wings. I'm not a seagull, I can't just land on the water."

Hob gapes at the man. So he can understand him! The harpy’s voice is deep and carries far without being raised. Hob stares at the harpy’s sharp face, his plush lips pouting at him. He narrows his piercing blue eyes at Hob and Hob hastily jerks himself out of his stupor. Embarrassed, he pulls his ear fin.

"Yeah, sorry, 'course. Follow me. It's not far, there's a rock close by."

The creature nods and Hob dives, swimming towards the rocks a few hundred metres away. They are close to the shore and there are plenty of cliffs and rocks nearby.

Hob reaches the rock first and watches the harpy approach. The being lands gracefully, its sharp black claws gripping the rock for support. It has black wings instead of arms and the feathers shimmer purple and blue in the sunlight. Its legs are also densely feathered, plumage covering its body up to the hips. The man’s torso is white, his face human and beautiful with a shock of unruly black hair framing his sharp cheeks and falling over his brows. Hob knows he’s staring but the harpy is the most stunning thing he has ever seen. Dangerous and beautiful, all sharp claws and bones and feathers that look both sharp enough to cut and so soft that Hob desperately wants to touch them to find out how they feel. He restlessly jerks his tail and hisses when he feels the sting of the wound the harpy gave him. He had completely forgotten about it. He lifts his body to the surface to inspect the wound. It’s not that bad, just a shallow scratch. The harpy shifts restlessly behind him.

“I apologise for my error. Do you require medical assistance?”

The harpy’s deep and dulcet voice rolls over Hob like a wave of warm water and he sighs, temporarily forgetting that he has been asked a question. He stares back up at the bird man, lost in a fuzzy haze.

“Are you alright?” the being’s inquiring voice draws him back to reality. Hob blinks and then frowns. He ducks a bit deeper into the water, eyeing the other warily.

“Sorry, I…I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. But tell me,” he says, deciding that it’s better to set things straight right away, “are you a siren? Your voice, it’s…it’s messing with my head.”

Dream’s back stiffens when the merman asks him if he’s a siren. Has he been involuntarily charming the other? He curses himself and carefully focuses on stopping any latent magic from entering his voice when he answers, “I apologise. Again. I was not aware I was doing it. It’s been a long time since I…talked to anyone.”

The merman raises an eyebrow but seems mollified and ready to listen, rather than just swimming off. He seems to be a very curious person, too curious for his own good. Dream sighs and shuffles his wings nervously.

“There is indeed a siren in my family line. Some of her magic has been passed down…to me. And some of my siblings. I do not use it…intentionally.”

No need to tell the merman that the mentioned siren is his mother and that Dream has indeed inherited quite a lot of her powers. He truly is not in the habit of using his voice to charm others. He prefers to not be around others anyway.

The merman blinks, seemingly fascinated. Dream studies him more closely. He is an adult male with copper skin and dark brown, almost black hair that flows over his shoulders and down his chest into the water. Dream wonders how long it is. The man’s face is handsome, with a strong nose that would make any harpy envious and amber eyes that look kindly up at Dream, shining with curiosity and intelligence.

“Apology accepted. Just please don’t use it on me anymore,” the merman says easily and draws himself a bit more onto the rock. Dream notes the length of his hair, the wet ends curling just around his dark brown nipples. The feathers at Dream’s neck stand up as he fights his irritation at the alluring display. He draws his gaze away from the merman’s chest to meet his eyes again. The man is smiling guilelessly.

“My name is Hob,” he says brightly, “can I ask your name, stranger?”

Dream straightens and tries to answer with dignity, hoping the other has not noticed his staring.

“I am called Dream. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Hob.”

He is surprised that he means it.

#eeee I hope you like it Anon! I do xD #mermay 2024 #dreamling #harpy Dream #merman Hob #the sandman fanfiction #asks

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owlcomics101 · 1 day

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”Clever Y/N…” Task force 141 x Velociraptor hybrid!reader Head cannons

Warnings: SFW (I am a minor), fluff, blood, language (cussing), mentions of animal abuse/violence (I do not condone), reader is gender neutral

gif credits: @Deshi Basara

Writers note: If this gets 100 notes I’ll make a series out of this like my fox hybrid one

Context/backstory: Jurassic world AU; The park had been long lost abandoned for over a decade now. What was once a park full of creatures of old was now the ruins to a new world. You were an experiment. A human with the qualities and characteristics of a Raptor. You had the raptor feet, legs, tail. Claws, eyes, and teeth. The task force was sent to Isla Nublar. Back to the old run down park to retrieve a weapon, but little did they know that the weapon was you.

Price: You see Price as your Alpha. The moment you two met you knew who was in control. Price. He’s the only man you will ever willingly take orders to. The only man you’re afraid of. A muzzle was a common occurrence for you. You were notorious for biting and teething anything you could get your jaws upon. Especially the task force members. Price is the most patient with you about this but this is a problem that needs to be fixed. He either muzzles you or distracts you with a bone like you would do for dogs.

“Ay!” Price pulls you away from his arm sleeve.

“What did we say about biting Y/N?” He glares at you. You immediately stop what you were doing and turn your attention to something else. “No biting ya muppet.”

Soap:

Soap was the one to break through to you. He never saw you as a weapon, you were just someone trying to survive. Find your place in the food chain. Soap always kept you calm and grounded even in times of danger or a threat to you and the others. Not even Price could calm you like Soap can. He was pretty laid back with you and let you do about whatever you wanted. He didn’t mind the nipping and teething as long as you were gentle. He was the one to help clean you after missions, including your teeth.

“Oi let’s see those pearly white’s.” Soap says as he gestures for you to open your mouth. You do as asked and he rests his hands on his hip proud of his work.

“Now there’s a smile!”

Gaz: Gaz is your trainer. Price thought it would be good practice for Gaz if he was your trainer. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two about teaching and be in Price’s shoes for once. You obeyed, but only when food was involved, otherwise Price would have to come down to motivate you to listen to Gaz. The training did well, you were a massive help on the field, but Gaz can’t help but feel bad about it all. You being a ‘weapon’ of massive destruction that he was in trusted to train. It held quite the pressure on him. He’s afraid he’ll turn you into the monster everyone thought you were.

Gaz watches you tear into one of the punching bags, he couldn’t help but picture the stuffing as intestines and flesh being tore out. He could see the cotton stuck in your teeth as blood dripping down and running off your chins

“Y/N! I think that’s enough for today…”

Ghost: You see Ghost as a beta. You sometimes take orders from him but only if you feel like it. The more irritated he gets with you and more and more you resist his commands and his attempts of control over you. You always snuck up behind him and he didn’t even need to call out to you because you were always there…He wasn’t sure what Gaz has been teaching you but the cold look in your eyes tells him that Gaz wasn’t the first to train you…You wear a head set around your head and neck so he could see out of you and see what your doing. Soap likes to call it Ghost’s “Nanny Cam.”

Price walks into the common room. “Has anyone seen Y/N? I told you all Y/N is not aloud outside unaccompanied!”

Ghost looks over to Price. “Y/N is eating Soap’s cookie stash.”

Soap jumps up wide eyed. “My cookie stash!? Ghost why didn’t you look at your nanny can sooner!?

“ITS NOT A NANNY CAM JONHHY-“

#captain john price #cod #cod mw2 #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #call of duty modern warfare #captain price x reader #task force x reader #task force 141

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mingtinys · 2 days

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how flowers bloom and wither

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader , platonic! boo seungkwan x reader

apocalypse!au , exes to lovers , angst , hurt / minimal comfort

warnings : language , death , apocalyptic themes , depictions of wounds and blood , suicidal ideation , this is not a happy ending or story

word count : 6.3 k

requested ? no

a/n : heavily inspired by this juyeon fic that made my cry in my car (p.s. there is a jeonghan ver as well).

Your voice is the first to call his name in months. It's been so long the cadence of it sounds foreign to his ears. Almost like another language entirely. A cry from the distance, barely audible in a way he easily dismisses as a hallucination. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

He knows other survivors exist, he'd seen them in nearly every town he scavenged. Though in no reality had he ever assumed any of them knew his name. The world had not been kind enough to spare anyone who knew and loved Lee Chan. They'd all been swept away in the initial outbreak. And with no one tethering him to his own existence, he was no more than a living ghost amongst the ruins.

But then the voice calls again, this time closer. Behind him. Louder.

"Chan? Lee Chan!"

And even stranger, he knows this voice. Better than he knows the sound of his own name. Could pick it out of a crowd, blindfolded and all.

Though he still can't bring himself to believe it. Not even as he turns and your silhouette comes into view against the setting sun, your elongated shadow reaching out for him. Tattered shoes well beyond their usable years slap against the pavement as you sprint.

"Oh my God, Chan!"

It has to be a mirage. You'll pass straight through him like an apparition and the universe will laugh at him for believing another one of its cruel jokes.

Yet still, his arms open, and seconds later your full weight crashes into him. Like a tide breaking the shore, stirring up memories like loose sand in its wake.

It's the first time in months he's been held. Felt the warm touch of anything living, much less the safety of something familiar. Tears fill his eyes instantly as Chan clings to the one thing from his past he could never seem to bury. To what he can only assume is a pity gift from the universe making up for all the times it fucked him over. To you.

Your chest heaves against his as you ask, "Is it you? Is this real?"

Chan himself doesn't know the answer to that.

"I can't believe I found you," you breathe out once the air surrounding you two settles. You haven't let go yet and Chan doesn't want you to. Worried that when you finally do, he'll wake up back in the crumbling shed he'd used for shelter the night before. With his back against a cold, moldy mattress instead of being held by the warmth of a thousand suns. Alone again.

"Please say something," you nervously laugh. Despite the chill in the air, Chan's cheeks are burning up. He's at a loss, far too overwhelmed to produce anything remotely coherent. Though as you peel away to examine him, concern knitting your brows, one word does come to mind.

Wow.

You're still as radiant as he remembered. A diamond amongst the ruins of the world. It looks, for the most part, the universe has been kind to you. Good, he thinks.

"You're not..." Your expression falls. "You're not sick, are you?"

It's the fear in your eyes that finally prompts Chan to push down the lump in his throat. "No!" He rasps, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not sick. Promise."

"Are you hungry?"

Chan looks back at the reason he'd left his shelter in the first place, the rundown mini-mart about a hundred feet away. The stabbing pain in his stomach brings him back down to reality.

"There's nothing worthwhile in there, we already checked."

We?

Your arm extends to point past the mini-mart. Towards a small abandoned town that pokes out just beyond the darkening horizon. "Our shelter is just about a mile that way. Would you–"

He agrees before you've even finished your sentence.

Chan cannot fathom the hope you hold in your heart in a world like this. Not until he meets Seungkwan. The vibrant boy you've been traveling with thus far.

"You can't go around picking up strays."

"He's not a stray, Kwan, he's an old friend. Besides, you were a stray at one point too." You disappear into another room before the boy can argue any further. Leaving him to glower at his new guest.

"If you start acting strange, I'll kill you." Seungkwan points at Chan, though he's not the least bit threatening. His shiny eyes and round face are far too friendly to ever be perceived as intimidating.

Yet Chan humors the boy anyway. "Virus-free, I promise." He raises his hands in surrender.

"And don't touch anything." He motions around the living room, which is surprisingly homey.

When you mentioned you had a shelter nearby, Chan was expecting something a little less... comfortable. Something like the random sheds or raided stores he'd crouch into for just a few hours of shut-eye, never any longer. Or perhaps even a poorly constructed tent made up of various scrap parts. But when you climbed the stairs to a tiny townhouse, one of the better-looking ones amongst the multiple shells of former homes in the neighborhood, Chan almost couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps this really was all just a dream.

The outside, for the most part, looked pretty decent. There had been some obvious repairs done; trash cleaned from the yard, wooden boards haphazardly nailed over broken windows, a tattered blue tarp covering a large section of the roof, and Chan could just barely make out remnants of graffiti that couldn't be scrubbed away. But the blue paint was hardly peeling and the stone steps had only a few cracks.

When it came to the inside, one word came to mind. Charming. None of the furniture matches, meaning either the previous owner hadn't cared for aesthetics or you and Seungkwan had at some point scavenged the surrounding houses in search of the least fucked up looking decor. Even then, it was really just the bare essentials. A surprisingly comfortable couch, two rocking chairs that look as though the wood had been chewed by squirrels, a metal center table, and a couple bookshelves filled with various novels, picture frames of strangers, and knickknacks.

Down the short hallway to the left are two closed doors. Of which he assumes is a single bedroom and bath respectively. Behind him, where you had disappeared to, is a door he'd quickly caught a glimpse of the kitchen through.

Most notably, however, against the back wall of the living room is a stone fireplace. Ablaze with such life it fully illuminates the space, providing a much-needed warmth as the brisk night rolls in. Chan watches it dance over the mound of logs, completely entranced until that same lovely voice from before calls his name once more.

"All we really have left from our last supply run is tuna, I hope that's okay." In your hands is a bowl with a small portion of rice and half a can of tuna, along with a glass of water. It's no five-star meal, but Chan's mouth still waters at the sight. And better yet, it's warm. He can't remember the last time he had a meal that wasn't a can of cold mystery mush or a granola bar.

He half expects Seungkwan to gripe about him taking something as precious in this world as food. But the boy snorts and a teasing smile creeps its way onto his lips. "Poor kid looks like he'll start drooling any second, I think tuna is more than okay."

He's right, tuna and rice is more than okay. In fact, it's the best damn thing he's ever had in his life. Even as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, it only gets better. It isn't until every morsel of food has vanished from the bowl that Chan finally acknowledges his drink. Gulping the clear, luke-warm, liquid down in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," he breaths out.

"So what are your plans? Are you leaving in the morning?" Seungkwan promptly asks.

Oh.

A chasm opens in Chan's stomach. Right, he thinks, How could he be so naive? Sure, the two of you knew each other. But it's been what, three years? Three years of the two of you living your own lives, growing, becoming new people. Almost a full one of those years spent fighting to survive. You didn't even owe him a meal to begin with, much less a place to stay. And, not to mention, Seungkwan doesn't know him from a hole in the wall.

He isn't sure why he assumed you'd stick by his side. But he'd sure hoped you would.

You have an equally solemn look on your face. "Right, you probably have people you need to get back to. They'll be worried if you stay too long."

"No, actually, it's just me."

Please. Chan silently pleads. Please don't leave me alone again.

You lock eyes with Seungkwan. A silent conversation between the two of you has Chan's heart pounding against his ribs.

"Can I talk to you?" Seungkwan motions you to follow him down the hall and into the solo bedroom.

Minutes feel like hours; and no matter how hard he tries, Chan can't decipher anything from the muffled whispers. It's just a flurry of back and forth until it stops with Seungkwan letting out a long sigh.

When Chan sees your nervous, fidgeting, figure appear with Seungkwan in tow, he starts mentally preparing for a no.

"There's only one bedroom," Seungkwan states, arms crossed. "So we'll have to rearrange the sleeping arrangements—"

"I'll sleep anywhere," Chan immediately bargains. "I can take the couch—"

"Absolutely not." The older boy jabs a finger at him, his stare menacing. "That couch is the nicest thing we have, if anything it's mine."

That is perfectly fine with Chan. In fact, he'd take the termite-chewed wooden floor if that's what it would take. "Does this mean..?"

"Yes," the boy exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, but the action doesn't feel malicious. More like a brother teasing his younger siblings. "You're lucky, you had a very reliable source vouch for you."

It feels like Chan can breathe for the first time since this whole shit-storm began. The weight that lifts from his chest makes him feel as though he's floating. And as your soft gaze catches him, he sees it. That indomitable glimmer of hope humanity has to offer. A light at the end of a dark tunnel. Security wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket.

A second chance to be alive.

Seungkwan, as Chan quickly learns, had dreams of being a singer back before. There's rarely been a quiet moment in the week since you found Chan. If he's doing repairs, he's humming. If he's taking inventory, he's softly mumbling along to some tune. If he's sat by the fire at night, his voice carries beyond the walls and into the night.

It's strange. Chan hadn't realized just how quiet being alone was until now. But you enjoy Seungkwan's voice, and it eases you to sleep on Chan's shoulder. So he enjoys it as well.

"Are they asleep?" He asks, letting his song teeter off, voice just barely audible above the crackling logs.

Chan looks down at the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles fondly, dropping his shoulder a tad lower to not strain your neck. By now, he's finally gotten over the disbelief of his luck in finding you— well, more so you finding him. Deciding to no longer question the probability of it all and simply cherish the feeling you bring him.

"Yeah, I think so."

Similarly, Chan has also learned that as much of a tough guy act as Seungkwan puts on, he's got an incredibly soft heart. It's pertinent in his gaze and the discreet ways he dotes on anyone around him. Bickering with Chan to wear something warmer even though Spring is around the corner or fussing at you to take an extra portion of rations.

In an alternate life, Chan likes to think he and the boy could've been life-long friends.

"How long were you out there alone?" He muses, a curious look on his face.

"Since the first outbreak," Chan answers casually. Though, Seungkwan's eyes go wide in horror.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? How long were you?"

"Three weeks, maybe." He shrugs. "Give or take a few days. We ran into each other pretty early on and we've stuck together ever since. Found this place about four months ago and tried to make it feel somewhat normal."

"Oh, that's nice." Chan forgets that for some, life kept moving. Even as society crumbled, humanity persisted. Some in vain, some succeeding, and others, like himself, not at all.

"Can I ask something else?" Seungkwan pulls him from his thoughts. There's a prying curiosity that's scribbled all over his face. Grinning like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip to tell her friends. Chan decides to entertain his curious mind, nodding.

"How do you two know each other?" He gestures at the two of you curled up on the couch. "Like, what's the story there?"

Chan's heart drops straight into his ass and like a reflex, he glances down to ensure you're really asleep. The two of you haven't exactly gotten the chance to talk about everything quite yet. So as of now, he isn't sure where you stand. He decides the more vague the better.

"We met in our third year of university. Their roommate was friends with my roommate."

Seungkwan squints his eyes, visibly displeased with that answer. "And?"

"And..." Chan toys with the material of his pants. "We dated. Two years. Just... didn't work out in the end."

Chan seriously wishes Seungkwan's facial expressions weren't so telling. That way he'd be able to at least pretend he was getting out of this conversation any time soon. But still, the boy persists, nagging him about the who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's until Chan caves. Explaining everything from the stolen glances that started it all, to the teary-eyed bittersweet end.

He vividly remembers the way regret pooled in his chest the moment your front door shut. Making his chest feel cold and empty, a feeling that stuck around nearly every day after. Reminding him of what he let go of for the past three years. The conversation plays on in a loop in his head, and since then, he's thought up about a thousand ways he would've done differently.

"Are you saying you want to break up?" Your voice was so small it ripped Chan's heart in two.

"No! I just— I mean, but... shouldn't we?"

"Our lives started growing in different directions faster than we could keep up." He explains to Seungkwan, who's been uncharacteristically quiet. Not once stopping to interject his opinion or pop in another question. "They were offered a really good internship a few cities away. I was given the opportunity to be mentored by a renowned choreographer. We'd both be so busy. It didn't seem fair to hold each other back from our dreams. There wasn't much of a choice."

But that's not true. Chan ripped the bandaid off long before it could prove to stand the test of time because he was scared. He assumed the love you felt for him would slowly wither and die with the distance. Drawn out in a slow and painful process he couldn't bear the burden of. So he ran, like a coward, and left you to deal with the fallout by yourself.

It's funny, how the universe deals out karma.

"Probably the dumbest decision I've ever made."

Seungkwan hums, relaxing back into his wooden rocking chair, seemingly deep in thought. A silence settles over the room, only the sound of dying embers softly crackling fills the air.

You stir next to him, nose cutely scrunched up as you search for a more comfortable position. Chan hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you to fully lean against him, being extra cautious not to accidentally jostle you awake. You finally settle, and he can't help but notice your body still fits against his perfectly. Just like to used to.

And when Chan lifts his head back to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he catches the tail end of a fond smile. He rises from the chair, making his way around behind the sofa.

"You made it back, that's all that matters." He whispers, hand on Chan's shoulder. "You don't get a lot of second chances in life— much less in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe it's time you stop just trying to survive and start letting yourself live. Whatever that looks like for you."

Spring rounds the corner like an old friend. Marking officially one year since the world went to shit and bringing with it much-needed rain in the form of rolling storms. One brews on the horizon, dark clouds gradually closing in on the afternoon sun. The cool breeze feels refreshing against Chan's damp skin. A pleasant contrast to the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, filled with scavenged treasures from the latest scout.

"You know, I offered to carry it halfway," you tease, significantly less out of breath than Chan on your trek back home. The exterior of the townhouse hadn't fared well with the harsh storms, yet it's a welcomed sight nonetheless.

"Yeah, but that would require him relinquishing about this much pride," Seungkwan laughs while pinching his fingers together, squinting through the narrow gap between them.

"It's not even that heavy," Chan scoffs, and if you clock his lie, you don't make it known.

"Whatever you say, golden boy," Seungkwan snickers, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk before veering off to the small plot just to the left of the entrance steps.

Seungkwan, arguably the most excited for Spring to arrive, had taken up gardening. Plowing up the soil with a water-logged wooden shovel and planting various packs of seeds he'd once found on a scout. They were mostly just flowers, anything useful like fruits and veggies having already been snatched up by other scavengers. However, he'd been lucky enough to find one packet of tomato seeds, one of green onion seeds, and another of squash seeds. The boy has a surprisingly green thumb, having created a flourishing garden in just a month.

"It's looking beautiful, Seungkwan. Another few weeks and we may actually have something to eat that isn't out of a can." You praise, admiring the colorful arrangement as well.

Sure, the fruits and veggies are nice, but Chan much prefers the cluster of voluminous purple hyacinths. Their vibrant color reminds him of the rich sunsets he'd use as a child to gauge when to return home for dinner.

He swiftly plucks a single bloom from the arrangement and places it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, and it somehow shines brighter than the flower itself. A sight he believes is capable of parting the gray clouds stretching across the sky.

"Stop killing my babies, Lee Chan." Seungkwan chastises, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Sorry," he sheepishly grins, remembering Seungkwan's no-touching rule he had applied to the garden.

In the distance, there's a low rumbling that draws your attention to the sky. "We should go in before it starts pouring." You take Chan's hand, tugging him inside while his heart beats out of his chest. You call out for Seungkwan as well, urging him that his babies will be fine in the rapidly approaching storm.

Rain slowly begins to patter against the rafters the second the front door squeaks shut. Crescendoing to a downpour within a matter of minutes. Sounds like the three of you are in for a long one tonight.

It was hard to notice at first. The occasional slip-ups here and there. Easy enough to blame the rising Summer heat on Seungkwan's mood swings. Even if the boy had been more readily agitated lately, his bubbly moments stuck around in an abundance that excused the outbursts.

Though Chan can't quite get over that look on your face the first time Seungkwan snapped at you. Something about his bush of hydrangeas being disturbed despite you insisting you hadn't laid so much as a finger on his garden. But the moment tears slipped from your irises, Seungkwan crumbled. His eyes blown wide in horror as the realization hit. He uttered endless apologies, begging for forgiveness until you assured him everything was okay.

And to his credit, he hadn't had an outburst that big since. But still, you made sure to be extra cautious around his garden from then on out.

The red patches painting his arms are harder to ignore, though. Especially with the incessant noise of nails obsessively itching at dry skin.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, finally voicing his concerns after watching the boy go at his skin with an inhuman determination for the past half hour. The sight reminding him of a rabid dog infested with fleas. With little care for its own health, left only with the insatiable urge to make the itching stop.

Seungkwan's head snaps up with feral eyes, though they dissolve into cheery crescents quick enough to fool Chan into believing he was just imagining things. Perhaps he'd been a little too on guard around his friend. The sweltering heat surely didn't help his nerves.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I must've gotten into some poison ivy, it's been driving me mad."

It only got worse.

The scratching.

It keeps Chan awake in the late night hours. That dry sound echoing in his head over and over and over and over. And during the day, despite it being the peak of Summer, Seungkwan wears long sleeves. They do well in muffling the sound and hiding whatever visuals resulted from the night before. Yet, he forgets to scrub the dried blood from under his nails.

There's an unease that settles in Chan's chest and makes a nest there. A feeling that comes in waves, yet never fully leaves him. It consumes his thoughts and taints the air in his lungs until he feels like he may choke on it. Unable to breathe a single word about his worries without accidentally manifesting them into fruition. Because perhaps nothing is awry. Perhaps Chan is the one slowly losing his mind.

After all, you've yet to mention anything. Content with humoring Seungkwan's better moments in spite of his worst.

Perhaps, Chan is still stuck in his mirage.

It happened again.

Seungkwan snapped and this time Chan had to intervene.

Over his garden again.

The once glorious flowers were sad and wilting, through no fault of anyone's, but the elements. The heat was harsh on them and there hadn't been enough rain in a while to revive them. Not to mention, Seungkwan simply hadn't been tending to them as much as he thought he had. He spent most of his days now obsessing over illusions instead.

Swore he saw spiders in the rations. Heard scratching in the walls. Had caught shadows of looters pacing outside at night.

You called it dehydration.

But he'd somehow gotten it into his head you'd been poisoning the soil when he wasn't looking. He swung the front door open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges, yelling obscenities about how you betrayed him. How rotten and horrid you were for killing the one thing that'd given him any semblance of joy. Chan swears he's never seen someone so unhinged as Seungkwan in that moment.

All it took was three large steps in your direction for Chan to brace himself in front of you. However, all it really took to freeze Seungkwan in his steps was his name. Loud and firm. Lighting a clarity in his eyes that's been missing for a few days now. He ushers the boy outside with haste. Too afraid to look back at your crumbling face.

Seungkwan collapses down on the stone steps. He pulls his knees to his chest and digs his palms into his eyes, hard. "I fucked up, didn't I?" He whimpers.

Chan doesn't know what to say. He did. But confirming it when he's in such a state seems cruel. And he doesn't care to twist the knife any further. He just takes a seat next to what's left of his friend and lays a comforting hand on his back.

"I'm scared." Seungkwan's head tips back to the sky. Chan had always been under the assumption that Seungkwan was oblivious to his deteriorating state. But the steady stream of tears down the boy's cheeks says otherwise.

"I can feel my mind slowly becoming not my own."

"Maybe it's not—"

"I already tried telling myself that." Chan's heart sinks as the boy hikes up his sleeves. Revealing the angry red tracks and rust-colored scabs covering a majority of his forearms. Some wounds still look fresh, and painfully deep.

"That's the first symptom, right? Feeling like there's ants under your skin. Being easily irritated. Foggy memories, whole days missing..." He looks ahead at the setting sun. "I'm already seeing things. Was it one or two months the broadcast said the infected have once those start?"

Chan tries to remember back to when his radio crackled to life for the first time. He's pretty sure it's one.

"I can't remember."

Seungkwan pushes a bitter laugh through his nostrils. "Me either."

Chan glances at the sad plot of greenery beside him. He frowns at the way the tulips droop and their petals hang limp. At least those who are still trying to hold on. Desperate to escape the same fate as their counterparts that have already begun decaying into the soil.

He looks back to Seungkwan and wonders what it's like. To have the tulips weep for you. For them to bow their heads and shed their petals like tears. He also wonders if you'll grieve for Seungkwan as gracefully as they do.

"Promise me one thing?" Seungkwan whispers. His eyes already look like they're glazing over again.

"Anything."

He speaks your name with longing. "Take care of them, yeah? I know it seems like they have their shit together, but that's not how it always was."

"What do you mean?" Chan asks, skin crawling. But Seungkwan continues to stare ahead, eyes focused on who knows what in the distance. He blinks slowly, "It's not my story to tell. Just... promise."

"I promise. Don't worry, it's not something you even have to ask."

"The garden, too." His lips lift at the corners. Chan thinks it's a smile, but it's too uncanny to recognize. "If you're taking requests."

He agrees, partly to provide Seungkwan with what little peace of mind he can offer him, but also because he already has been. Chan tries on occasion to care for the sad little plants. Wetting the soil with what little water he can spare.

Part of him naively hoped that maybe somehow, some way, if the garden could be nursed back to its former glory, so could Seungkwan. But deep down, Chan has learned to tell the difference between a dream and reality by now.

And the reality is, Seungkwan reeks of borrowed time.

The world stole your smile when it stole Seungkwan. It ripped his soul from your grasp as Chan held you in his. Kicking and screaming.

Endless tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to hold you back. Your pleas grew more desperate and wrangled. Mixing with the garbled, wretched, shrieks of your friend. Fingers clawing at his eyes. The virus embedded so deep in his brain he was no longer Seungkwan.

Just another host.

Your voice was the last to call Seungkwan's name that day. Raspy and hollow as you begged for his life. Begged the universe to not take the last ray of sunshine the world had to offer. Begged Seungkwan to fight just one more day. Begged Chan to let you save him despite all hope having set when the sun did. The scratches you'd left on his forearms remained a week after. But the hole Seungkwan's presence left has yet to fade.

Neither of you spoke of the boy in that time. He still doesn't know if that's for better or worse. Chan's terrified you'll shatter if he so much as whispers the boy's name. But to act like he never existed in the wake of it... well, that just doesn't feel right either.

But Chan knows there's no proper way to grieve. He figured that out at the beginning. He'd had damn near a year to mourn everyone he ever loved, you've only had a week. He knows with time, acceptance will come. But it kills him not knowing how to help.

So instead, Chan does the hard stuff.

He buries Seungkwan. Next to his garden, so that next Spring he can watch it grow. He stacks rocks as a makeshift headstone and plucks dried, stiff asphodel from the garden to make it look neat. He rearranges the bookshelf into a tiny shrine of Seungkwan's things. His favorite books he'd read over and over. A silver ring, with some date Chan doesn't know the meaning of carved into it. A liquor bottle that he used as a makeshift vase with the last flowers he picked still in it. Long dead, but the petals somehow still holding on. Replaces one of the bronze picture frames of strangers with a photo he found tucked away in Seungkwan's bag. One of him and two other people he assumes are his parents.

And when he's done, he lights a candle, the flame drawing you out like a moth.

"What is this?" you croak. It's the first you've spoken to Chan since it happened.

"Something to honor him," Chan whispers, keeping his gaze locked on the flickering light. He's too scared to see your reaction. Afraid you'll break down again. Afraid you'll hate it and scream that he has no right to mourn someone you loved for longer. Afraid that if he sees your tears flowing, he won't be able to stop his own.

Because he also knows part of you still resents him for that night. For grabbing your waist and stopping your momentum from hurtling towards Seungkwan. Robbing you of the chance to hold and comfort your friend one last time. Your screams echo in his head as a reminder whenever your gaze refuses to meet his or you shrug away from his touch.

But then your head falls to his shoulder like an olive branch stretching across a battlefield. Your sniffles break through the silence. Chan hesitantly pulls you closer, and when you don't flinch away, he does even more so until your full weight is against him.

When Seungkwan was here, there was rarely a moment of silence. But now, the house, and you, are quiet. And all Chan can hear are the sounds of heartbreak. Never before had he thought it could be so incredibly loud.

The cold air sneaks in sometime around mid-November. Bringing with it longer nights and temperatures low enough to warrant nightly fires again.

You haven't talked much since the night you cried your heart out on Chan's shoulder. Operating more like a zombie replicating past routines from life before. Wake up. Scavenge. Eat. Sleep. So when you offer up the first ounce of interest in something other than your daily routine, Chan nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I miss the ocean," you mumble, solemn eyes looking down at the crackling fire. The tip of your nose red from the chill.

"We can go if you want... If it would make you happy." He says though he'd settle for content. To bring you back, he'd do anything.

You nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And Chan makes it happen.

Maps out the closest beach. Rigs up two rusty old bikes he found in a shed. Packs enough provisions just in case. All for the sake of maybe returning with a sliver of the person you used to be.

The two of you easily find the rocky formation looking over the dark sea, waves raging below. It's here, that Chan truly realizes just how much of a shell you've become of your former self. The way you inch closer and closer to the sharp edge is lifeless. Like a magnet being pulled at with no will of your own. It lodges a dagger of dread through the center of his chest.

"Don't go so close, you could slip." Chan doesn't know if you can't hear him over the crashing waves below or if you simply choose not to. But your feet keep moving and Chan's feel cemented to the ground.

"That's close enough!" He calls.

Again, nothing.

Your toes hang over the edge now, hands in your jacket pockets. Raging waves slam against the cliff, reaching up for you. You close your eyes and point your nose to the sky.

Wind rushes around Chan. His shoes slip on the slick rocks below as instinct takes charge of his momentum while his brain remains frozen in panic. His lungs refuse to work until his arm can hook around your torso. Yanking you back with such a force it throws the both of you off balance. It isn't until his back meets solid rock that he finally gasps in a sputtering breath. The dull throbbing is instant, but the full weight of you atop his chest is comforting.

Chan desperately scrambles to collect you in his arms. Pulling your back against his chest so that he can curl around you like a protective barrier from the world.

"I wasn't going to jump." You whisper. But he feels no comfort from your empty words.

"Please don't make me lose you twice." He pleads like a child, rocking you in his grasp. The salty spray from the ocean mixes with his tears until he can't tell what is what. Right now, the only thing he's certain of is the one in his grasp. The feeling of you in his arms, safe, and he doesn't want to ever lose that. Call it selfish if you must. Lee Chan will wear that title proudly.

There's a rush of déjà vu as you crumble, muttering Seungkwan's name between wretched sobs, nails deep in his forearms. Sobbing about how you miss him, how unfair it is, everything you've been holding in since. Chan holds you tighter. Scared you'll slip away like the tide. Like Seungkwan did. Plunged into cold, thrashing darkness.

He prays to whatever merciful forces have forsaken him to please not do the same to you.

It's a silent trip back to the townhouse and you all but collapse from exhaustion the second you're through the door. Dragging yourself over to the couch and immediately curling into a ball. Chan takes the liberty of lighting the fire before sitting down beside you. He opens his arms, and to his surprise, you accept, letting your head fall into his lap. His arm securely drapes over your torso, though you're quick to cradle his hand. Hugging it to your chest so that his palm can feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

Chan lets out a long-held sigh, counting each beat like a lullaby. Then focuses on the rise and fall of your chest. Letting the steady swells ease the adrenaline from his system.

For a second, life is okay. Happy, even. Like how it was back before the world ended. Before he broke your heart. When he didn't care about anything except you and passing chemistry.

"I'm scared to lose you." When you say it, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "I always thought maybe, because we'd made it this far, that meant we were somehow immune. That the worst was over for us."

You pause to take a deep breath. But Chan doesn't push, simply thankful you've finally decided to let him shoulder the weight you carry.

"But if Seungkwan can die, that means you can too. Then who do I have?"

"I'd never leave–"

"You can't promise that," you drop to a whisper. Compensating for the waver in your voice. And you're right, he can't. Not in a world as cruel as this.

But he wants to.

"I don't believe in this world anymore. Not after what it did to him."

"Can you believe in me?"

Your answer doesn't come in the verbal form. Nor does it come quickly, which makes Chan think he's officially lost you. But then your fingers thread with his, squeezing in a way that he can only describe as feeling like pure hope.

Chan can't remember when the turning point was. All he knows is that today, months after the ocean, life feels peaceful once more. The Spring breeze is gentle against his skin as he lays in the soft grass with your head on his stomach. Surrounded by the aroma of the newly bloomed tulips that far outshine the rest of the garden.

He doesn't have as nearly green of a thumb as Seungkwan did, but he's proud. The garden is lush, green, and full of life. A little chaotic, but beautiful nonetheless.

Chan had even managed to revive the hydrangeas Seungkwan was so fond of.

You point to clouds with upturned lips, remarking on their resemblance to various animals. It's not the first time he's been lucky enough to catch you smiling in the subsequent months. But he knows to cherish each one more than he once did.

There's still a chill to the spring air and Chan tugs at his sleeves. Ignoring the incessant urge to animalistically claw at his arm. At the itch so deep under his skin, it feels like it's in the bone.

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vyl3tpwny · 11 hours

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hey. i saw some chat on the premier of the queen is back about girls being witches and your response of no, which i 100% agree with. personally i view witches and wizards as being different types of magic eg wizards use wands with spells and rituals to do arcane stuff while witches use potions and chants to do wild magic stuff. is your view on magic similar to that, or is wizard just used as a catch all term for magic? i haven't watched mlp but couldn't find much about wizards or witches online.

i think its all genderless.

the title of "girls who are wizards" is meant to be subversive. a huge part of that is because i view both dubstep and video (the characters) as genderfucks themselves. they can be depicted masculine, feminine, in between, and out of bounds.

it's so common that wizard and witch are gendered terms, so i love the idea of just bending language in its already fluid nature to serve an underlying queer narrative about how you shouldn't give a fuck how ppl perceive themselves, depict themselves, and express themselves. much like all organic communication, if someone is being genuine and authentic and not setting out to harm anyone, then nothing else fucking matters, seriously.

it's AWESOME.

anyway, they're girls who are wizards because they do wizard shit. they cast epic spells, vanquish mighty beasts, discover strange new lands, and get whimsical with that shit. if they were witches, yes of course they would do wild magic and brew potions and commune with the animals. girls can do both. girls can do anything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

over the past several years i've been reclaiming things in my mind. where once i felt i had outgrown da magics and da wubz, i now am emboldened to bring them to the world...

#vyop

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shinynewboots · 13 hours

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The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 1

Prompt/Summary: She’s Charlie’s older sister and when Charlie first has a meeting with Adam and Lute he couldn’t stop staring at her! To him she was like a goddess her beauty, her voice! Almost everything to him was beautiful. But she gets pissed off when he doesn’t take them serious not in his meeting room in hell or in heaven.

But he bribes the older Morningstar that he will stop the extermination and would talk to the higher ups and try to convince them about Charlie’s idea if only she agrees to be his (as in marriage).

She was considering it, ( Lucifer and Alastor were definitely against it), everyone in the hotel were also asking her to reconsider this plan. (But at the end she says yes).

Also if u can… like add a part where he betrays her at the end and does the extermination but before Nifty stabs him she’s there to save him.

For @jennieyeager Your request darling that I accidentally took forever to write! I have loved writing this prompt so far and I hope you enjoy it at as well! I intend on it being a 4 part series so please stay tuned!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Charlie asked, practically radiating excitement. You looked up at your little sister (who had been the sibling to inherit your mother’s height) and sighed. You were not particularly optimistic about Charlie’s meeting with heaven (hell, you weren’t optimistic about anything, you left that mostly to Charlie), but you didn’t want to rain on her parade.

Besides, Dad had asked you both to represent him at the meeting with Heaven. And there was no way you were going to let Charlie face the wolves alone.

“I’m coming,” You replied. “But I think we need to tone down the singing in your presentation. You remember how well that went over with Katie Killjoy.”

Charlie smiled awkwardly, her permanently flushed cheeks growing even redder at the reminder. She reminded you a lot of Dad at this moment. Full of dreams and hopes for a better future. You wanted to believe in a better future. You did. But all your hopes had been smashed when Mom had gone off the grid without even a single phone call and Dad holed himself up in the castle.

However, you did believe in Charlie. She had always been the best of your family. And if Charlie wanted to use this meeting with Heaven to try and convince them to cease the yearly Exterminations, you would be right there at her side.

You and Charlie stood outside of the Embassy, both hesitant to open the door. Neither of you had ever gone inside before as your parents had you avoid the building like the plague growing up. And now the building seemed daunting and out of place with its glow of angelic light. You and Charlie looked at each other and pushed on the door together.

The foyer of the Embassy was empty and dark. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting but this certainly wasn’t it. Rows of sofas made a path to a desk and set of elevators that stood at the other end of the room.

“Hello!” Charlie called, her voice echoing through the room. No response.

“Creepy,” Charlie said. You nodded in agreement, taking in the embassy. It smelled old and unused. Almost like moth balls. You both walked slowly to the desk where Charlie rang the bell. A flash of blinding light revealed a golden document with the words “sign here”. You both shared a glance before signing the document. The document disappeared as soon as it was signed and a glowing light appeared from one of the elevators.

You both walked towards the elevator and ascended to the top floor. Rock music played in the background as it made its slow journey. You looked over at Charlie. “You’re going to do great. And I’ll be right here by your side through the whole thing.”

Charlie beamed at you, her face bright. She pulled you into a fierce hug “I really appreciate you, Y/N.”

The elevator stopped abruptly and you broke the hug. “Now or never.”

You and Charlie walked out of the elevator and were met with a pair of open double doors, beckoning you to step inside.

“Anyone here?”

Charlie walked through the doors first.

“Hello!” She called out, you following behind her. Light began to emit from the room through the doors and you hurried to catch up with her.

“Sup.” You hear a voice call out. Your eyebrows furrow. Why was Charlie so fast? How dare you inherit your father’s height.

“Holy shit!” Charlie calls out. You finally make it to her to see to angels at the other end of the table. The one sitting wore a black exorcist mask with gold trimmings along with purple and white robes. The angel standing wore an traditional exorcist mask complete with the gray armor.

You stand behind Charlie, nervous but letting her do her thing. She was so much more jovial and charismatic than you were. You knew she would win heaven over.

“Um, hi! I’m Charlie! My dad asked me if could meet you.” Charlie said, a grin on her features. She reached out her hand for the angel to shake.

“Yeah I know.” The angel responded. He looked uninterested in the conversation. In anything. Fucking angels. He looked down at his nails and seemed bored.

“And this is my sister, Y/N!” Charlie said, moving aside so the angels could see you clearly. The lead angel glanced up and suddenly you could see the eyes of his mask fill with interest.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly, throwing the two angels a wave. The exorcist scowled back. The lead angel looked at her with curious eyes (could a mask be curious?).

There was an awkward silence as no one spoke. You and Charlie glanced back and forth until Charlie decided there was no time to waste. She fumbled in her pockets for her schematics of her plan (maybe crayon wasn't the best option but there had been no arguing with Charlie).

“Well um I guess we can go ahead and get this meeting started. So we all know Hell’s biggest problem right?” Charlie asked, holding up the crayon drawing of exorcists raining from the sky on extermination day. She glanced over at you nervously. You tried to give her an encouraging smile.

At this, the lead angel stood and walked towards you and Charlie.

He doesn't look at Charlie and instead his attention is solely on you. He looks you up and down and you suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze.

“Hey, my sister’s trying to speak to you.” You said, meeting the angel’s gaze.

The angel looked back and forth between the two of you before sighing. “Fine, let’s getting on with it.”

“Uh thank you,” Charlie stammered, trying to collect herself. “So again as well all know Hell’s biggest problem is it's overpopulation and subsequent exterminations. I have a plan to redeem sinners through a program at the hotel I recently opened!”

Charlie was actively shoving the crayon drawings into the angel’s face. He rolled his eyes. He barely gave Charlie a glance however, and kept most of his attention on you.

“Listen, let me stop you right there sweetie. You’re wasting everyone’s time.”

You saw red. Who did this motherfucker think he was? Charlie looked visibly defeated but tried to collect her presentation.

“But they're human souls.”

“Human souls that made a choice,” The exorcist angel said, walking up behind the lead angel.

“But-” Charlie started but was cut off by the lead angel.

“And there's no fucking way in heaven or hell that anyone would choose to stop the exterminations. Not only does it control the disgusting sinner population but it's so fucking fun to come down here and kill demon ass.”

You could feel your demon form starting to bubble to the surface. Horns began to sprout from your head and you knew your eyes had taken on a reddish hue. You glanced at Charlie who was in full demon form, her face red and full of anger.

“This isn’t fair. What makes you or anyone else in heaven any better than these souls?” Charlie exclaimed, her voice taking on a deeper, more sinister tone than you were used to hearing.

“Woah, settle down sweetheart. Chill out. They’re just sinners.”

“They're our people,” You replied, glaring at the fucking arrogant lead angel. Fuck, you wanted to punch him in his stupid face.

“And that must fucking suck for you guys,” The angel answered, laughing. He had grown in height, his golden wings unfurling around them. You hated to admit it but they were magnificent to look at. Smug asshole.

“Anyways, the real reason we’re here is because the angelic council has made the executive decision to move up the next extermination.”

“What?” Charlie exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, sweetheart, that we will be back in six months.”

“You can’t do that!” You argued. The lead angel looked at you with a grin on his masked features. He pulled out a guitar (where in the fuck did he get a guitar) and strummed a cord.

“I think this meeting is over,” He said, the sound wave of the guitar creating a force strong enough to push you and Charlie out of the meeting room and out the double doors. The doors slammed close and you both landed on the floor with a thump.

“No, no, no!” Charlie cried out, her eyes brimming with tears. You had to do something. Anything! This was Charlie’s dream and you weren't about to let some asshole angel with a god complex stop her. You jumped to your feet and pushed against the doors with all your might.

The doors opened (shockingly easy considering how loud they had slammed closed just seconds earlier) and you rushed into the room.

“Who in the actual fuck do you think you are to just ignore my sister like that? And to move up the extermination? Who in the actual fuck do you think you are?” You yelled as you entered the room. The double doors behind you closed with a bang, leaving Charlie out in the hallway alone. The lead angel gave you a long look and stood from the table. His hands moved to his mask and he pulled it off of his head.

You hated to admit it, but he was very handsome. His hair was light brown and messy in a boyish way. He had dark circles under his eyes, as though it had been a few millennia since had a slept. But what really got you were his eyes. They were a gold color that you had never before seen on another person.

“I’m Adam.” He said, a smirk crossing his features.

“Like, like the first man?” You asked weakly.

“The fucking same,” He grinned and began to walk towards you.

“That explains so much.” You whispered to yourself.

“Pretty awesome, right?”

You scowled. “No it's not ‘pretty awesome’, it's fucking rude of you to not even give my sister a chance and to be just a total fucking dickwad.”

“Because I don’t think your sister's idea is a good one. I mean, redemption for sinners? There’s a reason they ended up in this godforsaken place in the first place. And dickwad? Real original, sweetheart.”

Emboldened and full of anger you marched up to Adam and pointed a finger at his chest. You did not, however, anticipate that he was a hologram and so you fell right through.

“Falling for me already, sweetheart?” Adam’s hologram laughed, turning to the exorcist angel and giving a fist bump. You felt a blush rush to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

Adam shrugged. “I might have an idea that benefits both of us. It would require a little effort on your part though.”

“You mean stopping the exterminations?” You ask warily. “And redeeming sinners?”

“You know that's a very heavy ask sweetheart, but yeah. I can talk to the higher-ups about it and see what I can do. Just in exchange for one thing.”

One thing standing between you and helping Charlie achieve her dream. Someone could have pinched you, this was like a dream come true. Charlie had always been the ray of sunshine and full of hope and optimism and dreams. You would give anything for that to come true!

“What is it?”

“You.”

“Uh, what?” You asked, not sure you heard him clearly.

“You. I want you. Come to Heaven with me and be my wife.”

Your mind automatically went the worst (oh my satan did he want you as a sex slave?). Your mouth had run dry and you felt your palms grow sweaty. Why would Adam, the first man, want you as a wife. Oh my satan, wouldn't that be weird because he technically was married to your mom. This was so wrong on so many levels. And he was such an asshole.

“You want me as some weird sex slave?” You questioned, looking warily at Adam.

“Ew fucking no, that's disgusting. No, nothing sexual unless you ask,” Adam said. “Which, you know, you probably will.”

Adam winked at you. Fucking pig.

“Why me?” You were never picked first for, well, anything. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you their first choice. It had always been Charlie due to her charismatic nature and people pleasing tendencies.

Adam blinked and looked you up and down. “You’re beautiful. Hot as hell, no pun intended. And you're loyal. Doing anything to help your sister accomplish her pathetic dream? That takes guts and I respect it.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Could you do this? Marry this strange man who played a villain in your bedtime stories as a child. He was a pig but if he made it to heaven, maybe he wasn't all bad.

“Can I take some time to think about it?” You asked weakly.

“You’ve got 24 hours,” Adam said, snapping his finger to make a digital countdown watch appear on your wrist. 23:59, 23:58, 23:57…

“You can meet me back here when you've made a decision.” He said, smirking at you. Suddenly, his form appeared more real and you realized he had somehow materialized in front of and was no longer a hologram. His large hands grabbed your face and forced you to stare into his golden eyes.

You suddenly felt his lips crash into your own. His lips were soft and tasted like a cherry hard candy. One of his hands fiddled with the ends of your hair and you couldn't help but moan as his tongue lightly flicked at your lips, leaving shivers down your spine. Your tongue wrestled with his own and you felt so lightheaded.

You had been kissed before but never like this. Suddenly his many millennia of living seemed to be paying off in his favor.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you and you pulled away, a blush coming to your cheeks as you realized the exorcist angel had been present.

“Yeah, yeah Lute I know. I’m leaving.” Adam pulled his hands from your face and smirked at you.

“24 hours, sweetheart. I hope to see you here.”

And with that, Adam and Lute disappeared in a cloud of light and smoke leaving you alone in the board room. The double doors opened and Charlie rushed in, pulling you into a big hug and was frantically asking what happened. You couldn't make anything out that she was saying, however. All you could focus on was the way your lips tingled and began to swell from the ghost of his touch.

You were totally fucked.

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