#as I was going up the stair I was a man who wasn't there I wasn't there again today oh how I wish I'd go away

[twentyyearstoolate]

"...it leaves quite a lot of options on the table, is all I'm saying." Cassandra grinned as she prodded at the stewpot. Wolf, augmented with some scrounged wild onions and the last of their wine. Not particularly appetizing, but it'd be the first real meal in a couple days.

She continued, "I mean, I'm no man. Maybe it'll be me that does him in? Perhaps I'll be under some warlock's spell? Or he'll make one too many snide remarks in my earshot about my proclivity for unguarded pockets and shoddy locks, and I'll just... snap, like a common criminal. Who's to say?"

"That's not funny, Cass." Zhin stared daggers at the young rogue. He knew she was just trying to get his goat, but damn him if it wasn't working.

Arbor chimed in from the wagon, working up a sweat over the second wolf's pelt. "You know - 'man' covers a pretty narrow subset of causes of death, putting gender aside. Toxic flora and feral animals abound in these woods. And maybe she just meant 'humankind.' Many consider themselves outside of the kingdom of man. Elves, Dwarves, Goblins... Kobolds." Their eyes settled on the scaled figure tinkering with an intricate gauntlet.

"I don't appreciate the insinuation, bushwhacker." Tak-Tlak looked to the human clad in shining plate, minus a greave set down a little too aggressively, cleaning a wound meticulously with the tattered rags of a torn undershirt. "But they are right, Zhin. The oracle's not known for giving particularly actionable information. It doesn't really change anything to know it won't be under some specific circumstance."

"...Which is why I'd appreciate it if the peanut gallery would refrain from further speculation about my untimely demise, please." Zhin wrapped a clean cloth around his calf, wincing at the sting of grain alcohol on the exposed flesh.

"We have potions, you know. Would take care of that little nick."

"...No. Those are for serious injuries. I can walk, I can fight."

Cassandra handed him a bottle. "We're two days out from the nearest real healer. Drink. Unless you want it to be gangrene that gets you?"

Zhin hesitated before taking the bottle. "Awful charitable of you."

She spat. "Charitable my ass. I just don't want to have to drag your bloody carcass up a flight of stairs. Again."

The paladin wiped his lips as his leg closed up, miraculously. He smiled, loath to admit he needed that far more than he realized. "Are you going to bring that up every time I get scratched?"

"Only as long as you keep playing the tough guy." She gave the pot another stir before filling a bowl for herself. "Bon appétit."

The four of them huddled around the fire, the only sound between them the occasional scraping of spoons on bowls. The sun was getting low. Tomorrow's assault on the secluded tower would be the party's most challenging battle yet; Tonight, there would be peace and respite... the occasional ribbing notwithstanding.

The paladin just received a prophecy that no man shall ever kill him. To his annoyance, the party is sitting around the campfire making guesses and creating scenarios on what will actually kill him and why.

[puckdoll]

mmmm can i humbly ask for reverse amnesia with kris??? make this man suffer a little

Leave it to Geno to reserve one of the VIP rooms at the most popular club in town. Take you all out, Geno had said after a particularly brutal loss, we, like, relax and drink. My treat.

My treat my ass. Inevitably by the end of the night, Geno would pay part of the bill and leave the rest for everyone else to cover. Same as every year, yet everyone else always fell for it. Kris hadn't for at least the past five years, always starting his own tab and leaving the rest to flounder. Not his problem if they hadn't learned yet.

Stumbling over his own feet, he caught himself on the wall and forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. The bathroom in the lounge had been full--Kris was pretty sure he heard Doc and PO on the other side of the door, puking their guts out--so he'd been forced to step out. He hated this shit, the private lounges and the velvet ropes and the weird security guard that kept people out. He'd much rather go to a nondescript bar where he could fade into the crowd, and just hang with the guys. The drinks were always a lot cheaper, too.

He made his way up the illuminated stairs, the neon-purple lights stinging his eyes. Gaudy, he thought, but just the kind of thing Geno liked.

Nodding to the security, he went to enter the lounge, when that large, muscled arm jerked out, blocking his path. The security guard reeked of booze and Old Spice, a lethal combination that had Kris rocking back on his heels.

"Private party," the guard said, and didn't so much as blink when Kris glared.

"I know," Kris replied, a little hot, "I'm with them. I literally just came from there."

The guard smirked, tilting his head, the light refracting off of his bald scalp. "Nice try, but you're not getting in."

"This is ridiculous--" eyes sweeping the inside of the lounge, relief flooded him as he caught sight of Sid. "Sid! Hey--Sid."

Initially, Sid didn't visibly react, even though Kris knew he heard him. He wasn't that far away, Kris could almost touch him if he stretched as far as he could over the velvet rope. But upon the second call, Sid stopped, a look of resignation sweeping across his features before he turned. The entire thing was strange; this didn't feel like a joke, or some sort of awful prank.

The feeling intensified when Sid turned, slowly approaching the velvet rope. His guard was up, his entire body slowly tensing like it always did when he interacted with fans. He had plastered on his media face, the fake genial look that too many people read as genuine. "Hey," Sid said, not an ounce of real emotion in his tone.

Kris didn't like this at all.

"This guy says he's with you," the guard tilted his head back towards Sid, who's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I am," Kris protested, stomach twisting into knots at the looks the two exchanged. "I just came from there. Jesus Christ--Sid, you know me."

There was that head tilt, the slight adjustment of his weight, drawing himself up as he focused in on Kris. It was not a good sign. "I do?" Sid asked with the incredulity of a man who had met many 'long lost cousins' before.

Despite knowing that he was losing the argument, despite knowing deep in his gut that something terrible had happened--perhaps he was asleep, in a fucking nightmare that he desperately wanted to wake up from--he kept going, digging himself deeper and deeper into this hole. "I--Sid. We've played together nearly twenty years, we've--God, we've won three cups together."

That was the wrong thing to say. Sid's face shut down, the shutters closing. "We've won one," he said, and Kris could feel himself react, his jaw dropping and his brows arching as Sid continued, "Just the one."

"No--no, that's not true at all." Kris' eyes scanned the lounge, searching for someone else, anyone else. Where the fuck is Rusty, he thought, where's EK? Surely Sid was just misremembering. Surely--

He didn't know what else to do. He couldn't accept that this was his reality, that somehow by going to the bathroom and coming back, he was in an alternate universe where he wasn't a hockey player--because, fuck, Sid didn't even recognize him--and the Pens had only won one cup. Did Sid hit his head? There had got to be some explanation as to why--

Sid turned to walk away, frustration embedded into his features, like Kris had just insulted his mother and sister to his face. Kris' heart leapt into his throat--if Sid left, if he walked away, how the hell could he prove--

My jacket, he thought, eyes landing on the dark leather coat draped across the back of the chair. That's my fucking coat.

"What?" Sid turned back, brows furrowed. Kris hadn't even realized he'd spoken out loud, but he had, as Sid was staring him down instead of disappearing further into the lounge. The security guard was the only thing keeping Kris back, one large arm wrapped around his chest as Kris attempted to lean over the velvet rope, his nails digging into the guard's forearms.

"That's my coat," Kris said, pointing to it with the urgency of a dying man. "Just--it's my coat. If I'm not who I say I am, why's my coat there?" At Sid's skeptical look, Kris gesticulated wildly towards it. "Check it. Check. My wallets in there, my phone. Phone's in the right pocket, wallet's on the left side, inside zip."

Like he was possessed, Sid moved to Kris' coat, hands dipping into the pockets, searching. He pulled out Kris' phone, and Kris' heart soared. Then, he reached in, and pulled out Kris' wallet, flipping it open and sliding his driver's license out. Sid stared at it for a moment before his eyes darted up, curious but untrusting. "What'd you say your name was?"

"Kris," God, he sounded so pathetic, practically pleading with Sid to believe him while he was restrained, "Kristopher Joseph Pierre Irwin Letang. April 24th, 1987."

There was no recognition in Sid's eyes. Instead, he slid the license back into its slot then into it's pocket, zipping it up. He approached the velvet rope, holding out Kris' jacket like it personally offended him. The last bit of hope Kris had been clinging on to began to violently die.

"Sorry," Sid said, the coat falling limply into Kris' hand as he stepped back. "I don't know how it got in here. One of the guys must've grabbed--"

"You are Victoria's godfather," the words left his lips in a rush, panic and fear twisting in his gut as Sid jerked his head back, "You're my daughter's godfather. Your sister had a pet hamster as a kid that died because your mom sucked it up in the vacuum and it had a heart attack. She made you go buy another one and you felt so guilty about it you eventually told Taylor, who told you she knew because her old hamster was a girl and you bought a boy. You despise the way Geno eats his food but you'd never tell him that because you care about him way too much; you order pineapple as a side when the team goes out and gets pizza so you can still have it on the pizza without forcing everyone else to eat it like that. You're thinking of getting another cat because you're nervous that Maverick gets lonely. You--"

"--I think you should go."

The definitiveness, the finality of his words left Kris speechless. There was genuine fear and apprehension in Sid's eyes, like Kris had just flayed him open and played in his guts before attempting to sew him back up. Everything Kris had said had rung true, was true in this universe, and Sid didn't know how to reconcile the fact this complete stranger--to him, at least--knew all of these things about him. This wasn't something you could Google, probably wasn't even anything you could ask Sid's friend about because they were conversations that only he and Sid had together.

Still, it wasn't enough. Still, Kris was being sent away, unaware of where the fuck he was, who the fuck he was, if his entire life had been a dream, or if he'd even wake up from this nightmare.

Without a word, Kris pushed himself up, and took a step back, stumbling backwards down the stairs, his jacket clenched tightly in his hands. He pushed through the clubs door, practically gasping for air as the cold swarmed him. He staggered away from the entrance and down the street, away from the bright lights and line of people waiting to get in. As he was shrouded in darkness, his hands fumbled into his pocket, yanking his phone out.

The screen saver was of him and some random guy he didn't recognize. His fingers shook as he typed in his passcode. His background was, again, of that same guy with a German Shepherd. He stared at the photo, and thought, am I fucking dating him?

Text messages from a man named Youri--not his Youri, because this number was completely wrong, and this Youri didn't text the same at all--popped up along the top of his phone as he stared blankly, asking him if he was okay and when he was going to be home. Swiping them away, he pulled up his photo app, searching through them with a hunger that he'd never felt before.

There was no Cath. No Alex, no Victoria. Just him, a bunch of people Kris didn't recognize, that man, and the dog. The only people he recognized was his family.

"What the fuck," he whispered, sinking down on the curb, clutching his phone so tight he feared it might crack, "what the fuck."

There was no Sid in his contacts. No Geno, no EK, no Flower. Not even his fucking agent was listed.

Before he could really think it through, he was pulling open his messages, punching in a phone number for a new text. It had to be Sid's number still, right? Not everything could've changed.

I know your number, Kris typed, almost in a frenzy, I know you. Please believe me.

Sid read the message. Three dots popped up, then disappeared. Kris pressed the edge of his phone between his brows, scrunching his eyes shut.

He didn't know what to do. Didn't know where to go. Who the fuck was he, where the fuck was he, why had everything changed when he had left the lounge--

"You Letang?"

That Russian accent sent hope surging through Kris, his head snapping up, each vertebrae popping in his neck as he craned backwards. Geno stood in the halo of the lamp post, his face shadowed. Even still, Kris could tell he was on guard. Why are you here, he thought, before it answered itself. Kris had been Sid's guard dog; with him gone, him being nonexistent in their lives, someone else had to step up. Clearly, in this fucked up universe, that duty fell to Geno.

"Yes," he said, hopeful, despite everything, "You recognize me?"

Geno tilted his head. That was a no.

"Fuck," Kris said, putting his face in his hands again, "fuck."

"You act like I'm supposed to know you."

"Because you do. This shit isn't fucking real."

Geno said nothing, and Kris had to bite his lip to stop himself from rambling. Fucking fuck.

"Sid say you know things about him he not tell anyone. That you know his number. How?"

"Like I said," Kris said, resignation slowly begging to eat away at his frustration and anger, "you know me. I know him. We--" his voice cracked, just for a split second, "were something."

The implication didn't seem to be lost on Geno, because every inch of him perked like a hunting dog. Kris bowed his head, fingers twisting in his hair and pulling. Maybe, he thought, without a sliver of optimism, maybe he'll believe me.

"I'm think you sick," Geno said, effectively crushing whatever fight he had left in him for tonight. "You need help? I'm call cab, ambulance for you?"

"No," Kris swiped at his eyes, at the tears that were beginning to brew. "No. I'm good."

Silence gathered between them, the only sound being the echoes of life from the bar and Kris' occasional wet, snotty sniffles. He didn't know why this was getting to him so badly, but he supposed having your life turned upside down in the span of an evening would do that to you, especially when you got confirmation, twice, that it was real. That there wasn't going to be a gentle pat on the back, a reassurance that they'd just been fucking with you.

Geno's shoes scraped against the sidewalk as he turned to walk away, evidently deciding that Kris wasn't a threat.

"Hey."

Geno paused, glancing over his shoulders. Kris ground his forehead against the heels of his hands before he turned his head, mouth pressing against his bicep as he stared tiredly at Geno. They locked eyes, Geno's slit but curious, Kris' open and exposed, wet. Kris sniffed. "Remind PO that he needs to re-lace his skates."

PO had taken the laces out last game, and had put them back, shoddily. He missed a couple of holes, and hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet. No one had noticed except for the guys in the room.

Geno's eyes widened, his lips parting, but still, there was no recognition within those kind eyes. Curiosity, shock, confusion, but Kris was still a stranger in his eyes.

Turning away, Kris tightened his grip on his hair, staring between his knees. Geno stayed, his eyes burning a hole through Kris' thin shirt for a couple minutes before he left, clearly unconvinced. Had ultimately decided that Kris was just a freak who was either really good at guessing, or a stalker.

There was nothing more he could do. Kris sat on that curb in the cold, staring at the pavement until his eyes grew blurry, until the club went quiet and the street lights began to flicker off.

Kris checked his phone. A couple more texts from Youri. Swiping them away, he opened the chain he had started with Sid's number.

You liked it when I kissed you, he typed, you liked that it was uncomplicated, that the three of us could be together and go home to Kathy, to Anna, to Cath. You liked that you could forget about us.

He clicked send. It came back undelivered.

[deaddovediner]

Weirdo (!basement era Gerard Way x reader !fem)

warnings/triggers: Gagging, Oral sex (male receiving), Exaggerated writing, Degrading, Swallowing, Just overall filth and when I say filth I mean it- this is disgusting.

word count: 2066

Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

You never would have thought about Gerard if it weren't for Mikey, not too long ago, a few days before, Mikey asked you to come and hang out with him since y'all were best friends. But he forgot to mention that he's actually busy and not home. He didn't even text you or anything, so as you normally would have, you knocked on the Way house's door three times and waited for Mikey to open the door; but to your surprise it was Gerard that opened the door. Mikey's weirdo older brother who lived in the basement room underneath the house.

He was a freak, you never saw him, he was always in that basement doing God knows what, you only saw him when he was making coffee in the kitchen while you and Mikey gossiped; and not even that was a pleasant encounter.

"So? Where's Mikey? We were supposed to hang out today..." You asked Gerard, standing in the doorway.

"He- He's busy today, he went  to grab something from the store but, um he also said that he needed to do some business..." Gerard scratched the back of his head awkwardly and stepped aside from the door. "If you um- wanna spend the time uh, until he's back, I got some new comics, if you'd uhm want to- take a look at them." He avoids eye contact and for a second you thought he almost looks cute, if it weren't for his stink. 

Either way, you step inside the already familiar house and put your bag on a chair nearby, then you turn back to him.

"I mean- sure. I already walked this far why not. I'm not really a comic fan but, some of them are cool." You tried your best to sound interested even though you weren't, Gee was the last person on Earth you would want to be stuck with. However you didn't wanted to walk back to your house, so you figured that you'll stay some time and then go home, Mikey will be hearing about this later.

"They're in my room- You can uh come check them out in there." He gestures vaguely towards the basement door and stairs, and you catch a small blush on his cheeks. You can't help but frown a bit at that, you never liked him and he's a nerd, but as long as there is nothing else to do you guess it'll be fine.

"Okay? I guess- you lead the way." You let Gerard go back into the basement, and you're a few stairs behind him when the stench hits you. It's a mix between body odor, cigarettes and junk food. You try your best to hide the small gag, your body reacted to this monstrosity but you have to keep it at bay. 'It will be okay, I'll just have to bear it for some time, until I have enough courage to walk back home. It will be fine-' Your thoughts keep you occupied for some peaceful seconds as you finally arrived to the man cave that is.

"Sorry for the mess- I wasn't expecting uhm, visitors. They are somewhere here- I just got them yesterday; one of the new editions." He walks to a table that's full of empty but dirty dishes and papers, comics, magazines. While he's searching for the comic, you dare take a look around the room. It had a worn-out couch and an old television with a console and some games, there was Final Fantasy X-2 and some other RPG games you never heard of.

There are action figures almost everywhere and posters lined the walls, a real nerd's wet dream is this room. 

"Look, if you can't find them in this mess I don't blame you- I'm sure we can pass time in other ways. How about we play something? Do you know truth or dare?" He looked up from where he was, still searching for the comics, he seriously looked pathetic. His hair greasy and disheveled, his clothes messy with some darker spots of who knows what. He straightened himself and leaned back against the table trying to look cool, you almost huffed a laugh at the poor attempt of trying to look cool.

"Yeah, I know how to play it. I only played it once though- and that wasn't the very best either; but if you want to, then I guess uh, it's fine." The awkwardness of him makes this very entertaining to watch and you can't help but smile just a tiny bit at his pathetic try to win you over. So you figured why not make this interesting.

"Okay, I'll let you go first. I choose truth." You take a seat at the worn-out couch and wait for Gerard to come up with a question. He walks over to the couch and takes place opposite you with a fair distance between the two of you.

"What's your favorite comic? If you have one-" Now at that, you couldn't hold it in anymore so you chuckled and thought about it. He is so innocent yet very weird and disgusting you can't really compare to anyone or anything.

"I only read a few comics, but I'll say the OG Batman comics. My turn, truth or dare?" You have a sick plan, that if your calculations guessed correctly Gerard will like. You sit up on the couch, hugging your legs.

He takes a few moments to think about what he'll choose, "Truth." his eyes lock with yours as you contemplate what to ask.

"Have you ever been blown off?" You smirk satisfactory taking over you at the blunt question. You can see his surprise at your straightforwardness, a blush creeping up to his cheeks and ears, he even looks away in what seems like embarrassment.

"I- I haven't. No-" He still doesn't meet your gaze, but you're sure he can feel your eyes bore a hole through him as he confesses. "W- Why?" He softly turns back to you and looks at you with such a shyness you've never seen. You can't help but think about giving him one just out of pity, and you might actually just do that.

You snuggle closer to him on the couch, only so much though. He seems to notice your slight movement and he looks away.

"You wanna know how it feels like, don't you?" You ask in a teasing tone and with that smirk on your face he knows all too well why you're aksing this.

"Um- I, uh guess- um ye- yeah..." The blush he has is getting out of control and it just makes you move a tad bit closer again, like a predator, slowly approaching her prey. You don't even care about how disgusting he is but get turned on by his lack of hygiene. You knew that this was sick, that you shouldn't like this, that he's a weirdo, a freak. Yet you couldn't keep those naughty thoughts away locked in that dark place in your mind; they were escaping with every milisecond that passed.

"I'm bored of the truth or dare-" You moved closer again, "I want to play something else, or well- with something." you bit down on your lip, and found yourself next to him, he's siting sideways facing you, and you can see his bulge underneath the sweatpants.

"Wha- What are you doing?" You place a hand on his chest, pushing at him softly so he'll lean back into the couch. You just shake your head softly. He closes his eyes, probably just this soft touch is too much for him, your other hand trails to his waistband and you link two fingers in, just teaing him.

"Shhh- lean back and enjoy, I know you'll love it you weirdo." You whisper in his ear then plant a soft wet kiss under his ear. His skin tastes like sweat and bitter, he most likely haven't showered in a few days. The soft noises he does makes you smile, and it's cute how he grabbed a pillow to cover himself with, but you pull at his waistband as the one hand on his chest goes to grab his and pull it away with the pillow.

"Don't cover yourself you freak- Let me send you to heaven." You look back at him, somehow with lust, it seems impossible that you're really about to do this, however the idea of you giving this nasty freak his first blow job makes your skin all tingly. He complies and even though his eyes are closed he doesn't stop you from getting off the couch to kneel before him.

"Open your eyes Gerard, look at me..." You pull down his sweatpants in one smooth move and his boxer is now revealed to you, his hardened dick poking at the fabric, it looks painful so you remove it for him springing his dick free. He's not small but not huge either, just about the middle, average size.

"Ohm my- God!" He mutters under a breath when he opens his eyes, you lock gazes and you lick your lips before running a single finger along his size, he shivers under the soft touch with the smallest moan. 

"You're so disgusting, you know that? You don't even deserve this-" You curl a hand around him and stroke him softly, some pre-cum already drooling down from him. "You're such a creep- you like it when someone degrades you, hm?" You continue to stroke him softly and he buckles his hips to create more fraction. 

He can't form words so he just nods and leans his head back, letting out a long moan. You take that as invitation and so you put a hand on his thigh for balance then you lick up his dick. He tastes horrible, straight up disgusting and it makes you drool. With soft kisses you trail up his cock and when you reach the top, you take him in your mouth your tongue darting out to slide against his sensitive skin. You almost gag at the even worse taste and you can't help but whimper against his dick. It's like the more disgusting he is the more you enjoy, which is weird but also hot.

His hand sneaks into my hair, and you can feel the hesitation in his touch, but at last he grabbes your head by your hair and guides you to take him deeper. You look up at him as you deep-throat him, you gag around him but not because of his size, it's the taste that makes you gag yet it makes you moan at the same time. 

"Ugh~ I- I'm gonna, I'm gonna cum-" Gerard stutters out between moans and you can feel his dick pump in your mouth, so you slurp against him and lick around his cock plus adding a bit of teeth it makes the magic happen and he cums into your mouth. The cum tastes even worse, bitter and way more sticky then it should be, but you swallow, you swallow every single drop of his semen. With a loud pop you take him out of your mouth and clean up around your jaw, you swipe of the excess saliva with your T-shirt. Then after a big sigh you smile up to him.

"How was it? How was it to see the popular girl kneeling before you? With your dick in her mouth, hm? How was it to see your little brother's best friend lick you like a lollipop? Did you enjoy it? I know you did you nasty pig- You were moaning like a little bitch, it was cute." You stand from the floor as he tucks himself back into his boxer then his pants.

"It... It was amazing-" He looks away, seems like the awkwardness never left and he's back to his abnormal gross weirdo self. "I- uhm, thanks." He scratches the back of his head then looks back at you, you're still standing in front of him.

"Y'know, your cum tastes really bad- you should totally check it out or something, this is definetly not healthy, let it be from anything... Either way, I loved it-" With a soft turn you go to the stairs that lead to the house and you look back at him. "And don't thank me, loser. You're still really gross and I don't like you. If you DARE to tell this to anybody- I'll rip your head off." And so you left the basement, texted Mikey you're not going to wait for him and walked back home.

[blackramhall]

Remember that movie where the ten strangers went to an island and then they all died one by one?

Identity - James Mangold (2003)

Blackram Hall: The guy practically lives in a Clue board

[sponxersbonkers]

Listening to tma again. Upon the stair (MAG 85) has to be my favorite statement so far. I am so gonna be listening to this over and over again.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Unrelated to anything but I'm getting real tired of the amount of problems I've been discovering in the last month or so and honestly at this point yeah sure why not add another vet visit on top of that I guess like fine sure okay

[g-k444]

Going to a party this Saturday. Push up bra, low waisted jeans w my thong's straps visible as they encompass the fat of my hips and show beneath my cropped v-neck

oh all the whorish things i could do

suck a dick in the next room, get fingered upstairs, even makeout in the same room as everyone else

but what are all the whorish things that everyone could do to me?

you know, when i cant find my phone and am struggling to walk from one side of the room to the other so that i can find it and call and uber and end this godforsaken party by going to bed...

everyone's begun trickling out and it's just the host and a couple of his mates who are staying the night, now, waving the last guy out and giving a girl her bag before her friend drives them home.

then the man helping me find my phone turns on my the minute the front door is locked.

"C'mon guys, get her upstairs"

I'm barely in control of my body - my force weakened as i struggle against the arms that hold either side of my body and strongly walk me to the stairs

but i cant make it up.

my body collapses into the stairs and a groan leaves my mouth. i want to leave; i dont want to go upstairs with these boys. i cant even make it up the stairs. my body is too weak from the alcohol of too many drinks to count over the course of the night.

"You aren't going to come up? We're being nice to you here trying to take you to a bed but you're gonna resist? fine, fuck you, you can take it on the stairs instead like the bitch you are."

there isn't a flat surface to lean my head back against, a man's hips hammering his cock into my mouth as my head limps rests against the edge of the stair, mouth loose and motionless, groaning around his cock lowly as he uses my orifices

i can feel and hear two others spitting on my pussy and dragging it over my folds and playing with my pussy for their entertainment. Pushing a flap left and right to toy with a pussy that wasn't being protected by a sober, private girl like i would normally be.

I could feel their spit dripping from over my pussy to my asshole, and before i knew it I could feel either hole being penetrated - my body manhandled into a better position whilst no no nononoNO'S- left my mouth at the thickness of the cock that began moving mercilessly in my tight hole, balls slapping against my skin as if bruising my self-worth

"God, you gotta see her tits swinging when you fuck her - lemme take a vid to remember - that's gotta be the most shamelessly whorey pair i've ever seen..."

I tried to cover my face with a face, but the hand beneath me gave out instead, and so my body collapsed into the stairs beneath my body. The man holding the camera courteously picked me up and held my up by a shoulder so that my tits still swung for the camera in front.

"Sent to the groupchat, they're replying... Yep, they appreciate the view just as much."

Another cry left my mouth and I felt something tap against my cheek to shut me up. Someone yielded their hard cock in their hand, and appeared to have slapped it against my face to shut me up. I tried to open my mouth to let them just put it in - my drunken brain not working for itself as it urged me to let the man get his release in my mouth

but instead, he continued to keep rubbing his shaft over my face - letting the tip rub against the socket of my eye and the length press into my cheek, letting it movie over either of my wet lips

"Oh the boys in the groupchat really like it. They say they're comin' over in 5 to get some themselves. Hope you're ready for a good long night tonight bitch, because you aren't gonna be able to walk out the door tomorrow morning. Oh no, we're gonna fuck you dumb tonight, then use your broken-bitch body to get us off tomorrow morning, too."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jack: What do you want Alfred: Son, please- Jack: Not your son. Not since you walked out on Mom to go to jolly old England. How's that going, by the way? I heard you walked out on your daughter there, too. Alfred: I know I wasn't the best Father, and you have no reason to forgive me, but this is a matter of life and Death. Jack: Oh, big surprise, good old Dad only comes around when he needs something. How about some tea and biscuits while we're at it? Alfred: Please listen. A few hours ago, the Justice League was compromised. Batman was able to send me a coded message that they were being mind-controlled by ghosts before he was captured. You and your wife are the only known contacts for Phantom. The world needs his help before the Justice League goes on a planned massacre. Jack: ....Fine, but only because thousands of innocent people could get hurt. *Turns to shout up the stairs* Danny! Can you come down here?! Alfred: We don't have time for your kids. We must move before- Jack: Unlike you, I always have time for my kids, but no, this isn't just a moment when you met your grandson. You need Phantom, don't you? Alfred: Yes? Jack: Then you need Danny. Danny: Did you need me, Dad? *looks at door* Who's this? Jack: The man who would rather be a butler/nanny to someone's kid than be a decent Father. Also, your new teammate for the upcoming battle. We're going to punch Batman in his dad-stealing face. Danny shifting into Phantom: FINALLY.

[skyrigel]

Simon would never forget the first kiss. It was an all electrifying force reckoning inside him — It was over the bloodied limp of your pathetic ex husband.

So it happened like this, Simon Riley was head over heels for you the moment he met you in the elevator and as if by fates the damn box stopped working which resulted in Simon helping you up the stairs with the grocery and also knowing your sweet darling name. Then on and on he knew more, about your narssicist husband whom you had filed divorce against months ago.

And it wasn't until one night he heard the raised voices from the apartment hallway, and one of them which he recognised in his soul was enough to make him bolt out mindlessly with heart beats escalating every second.

“Get out ! Get off me !” You screamed as your husband grabbed both of your wrist and with a thud he pressed you against the wall.

“Listen you fucking bitch —” That was all he was able to slur before Simon grabbed the bastard by the back of his neck, pulling him back from you with one rough shove.

You breathlessly stared as Simon's eyes reached over, glancing, nodding, and softening, then back at the man you made the mistake of marrying once.

“Who are you ?” He dangled back and forth with shaking steps, eyes unfocused on Simon who didn't stop glaring. Every nerve of his neck popped out with him maintaining restraint, and not kill the man right there with bare hands.

“Get da fuck Outta here.” Simon said through clenched fist. He didn't want to make the case bad for you, he just wanted this jerk to get out of your life.

“Been a whore always —”

You saw it all in slow motion, as your husband's smirk grew around the word ‘whore’, because not getting any of the household stuff done and then proceeding to slut shame you when you hired man yourself to get appliances fixed or screws tighten or for car engine misshap was one of the first thing that you noticed, that this man was a bloody unapologetical loser.

And his dirty finger once again were too close, too threatening, that until Simon whipped around with devil in his eyes. His fist that had been clenched enough to make his knuckles go white connected with the ugly cheek of your husband, every crunch of bones was heard in clear disposition as he fell on the floor, groaning loudly.

“Don't ever touch her again !” Simon jumped over him, pulling his bloodied face up by the collar before punching him down again as he screamed.

“Don't ever hurt her again !” Another punch right on the nose. You stared, unable to move, unable to utter a single word as you watched the man who made your world worse than hell was getting beaten to pulp, each time he screamed, your heart was getting calmer.

“Don't ever fucking come near her !” Simon held open the broken jaw, his knuckles red with blood stain. Then as if a spell had been broken — his eyes lifted up to meet yours through the metallic scent of blood and terrified feeling of broken bones and maimed flesh.

He stood up, jaw unclenching, every muscle slowly relaxing. The hardness bleeding away like your husband, soon to be ex.

You knew what you felt.

“I…” Simon hesitated, like he hadn't just made you realise what you had been wanting all this time. The way he smiled around your jokes, hummed to your bad tea, picked curtains and watched stupid hallmark movies for the sake of you.

“Are you alright ?” His hand raised to touch your cheek before he dropped the stained fingers by his side.

It was silence except the crying for help which was like rat being strangled. You couldn't find any words, but nodded because your silence was breaking Simon's heart. He needed to make sure that you were okay.

But you needed to convey something more, so you took a step, not much and reached on your highest tip-toes, taking his face by both of your hand and placing your lips over his in a sweet embrace.

So traditionally Simon had to propose first to keep up the score.

Masterlist

[kachulein]

I guess my dream is quite long and detailed... I reached all 30 tags so I'll finish it off below the cut:

(Also TW: violence/murder for both the tags and below the cut)

He addressed me as Kitty or Kitten and basically treated and talked to me as if I was a cat and he had no bigger joys in life than to "play" with me now.

Me cowering in the corner was even more ironic now because the dynamic man versus cat was kind of established that way

At this point my brain was going into overdrive - how was I supposed to get out of this alive? The only chance I had was to catch him by surprise, sneak around him and escape through the door, so that's what I tried when I felt as if the right moment had come

I quickly got up and dashed around him, he turned in surprise but managed to hold on to me and drag me back before I had been able to fully exit the room

Now I was pressed up against his side and he was making even more snide and disgusting/creepy/predatory comments, really enjoying the thought of me as a human "kitty cat" and anticipating the moment in which he could take my last breath away

He started strangling me with his hands, I'm not sure if he also injured me with a weapon, I only remember how my neck was very bloody afterwards - especially on one side, so he might've injured me there with a knife

But at that point, that wasn't important to me as I was gasping for air and trying my best to make my struggle be heard and scream in some way, shape, or form

I think it was successful as I heard someone running up the stairs while I started getting dizzier with every second, my system screaming for oxygen while I was struggling against his hold

Suddenly, though, the door slammed open and it revealed my cousin standing there, a furious spark of anger in his eyes

He didn't hesitate one bit when he flung himself at the guy, tore him away from me and fell on the bed right next to us with him

Then I only saw him hovering over the guy, taking out a knife and stabbing and slitting his throat, blood splattering out and covering the sheets as the guy's body went limp

It was finally over, I had survived, and my cousin had saved me

When the police arrived we were like "y'all couldn't have come here a bit sooner??"

I met the woman/girlfriend again, she was taken away in handcuffs, looking saddened

As she passed by me she told me she really loved him even though she never liked what he'd done to other people (not just those he murdered, but also the mistreatment of others, etc.)

I asked her if he had been abusive towards her, too, but she told me that he had always been the most amazing and sweetest guy to her and she never had to fear he'd do anything bad to her

I was glad to hear that, I told her that I was sorry it had to end like this and we parted ways on kinda good terms, so to say ???

When I got home I finally had a chance to examine my condition and potential injuries (apparently I wasn't brought to a doctor or hospital?)

My neck definitely had marks on it and you could tell someone had tried to strangle me to death, and then I also found the blood stain on the left side of my neck

But I couldn't recall a moment in which I was injured there, so I thought that I hadn't noticed it while I was almost killed :'))

and then I woke up-

Reblog and put in the tags a dream you had that seems like you're making it up when describing it but it's something you genuinely dreamed.

[strawberrykidneystone]

your hot apartment neighbor sevika

a/n: guys… i’m kinda obsessed with this one

while zaun wasn’t the safest place in the world, the complex you lived in was definitely no postcode envy

but it’s home, so what can you do

the first time you saw sevika, you were doing laundry in the basement of the building

you were sitting on top of the machine you had your clothes washing in while reading a book

the last time you had left your clothes down here to wash, some asshole had just dumped your clothes on the ground 3 minutes after your load was done so you just decided to carve out a few hours into the week to do laundry

which unfortunately meant that you spent some late nights with nothing but the company of your swirling clothes

when the door opened, you didn’t even bother to look up, you weren’t the only late-night washer in your building

you did, however, look up when the stranger who was using the machine across the room cursed under her breath

you had never seen her around before, but damn you wish you had

she was a tall, buff, and beautiful woman with a golden prosthetic arm, a wife pleaser, and sweatpants that rode low on her hips that you had to consciously not look at

realizing she had the detergent slot out, which most likely meant that she left hers upstairs

you whistled over to her and held out your jug (not your boob you freak) in an offering

the woman snapped her head over with what looked like a permanent scowl on her face, but her eyes showed relief when she saw what was in your hand

she sauntered over and eyed the jug of detergent with an eyebrow cocked, “you sure you wanna share?”

you shrugged and half smiled at her, “i don’t mind, plus it’s better than going back upstairs. ugh, been there done that.”

she hummed and took the jug from you with a nod, her thick fingers briefly brushing against yours, “‘ppreciate it.”

“no problem,” you said smoothly as you glanced over your book to get a peek at her ass as she walked away

little did you know, sevika had stolen a glance down at your braless breasts jiggling with the machine when you weren't looking in a very similar way

the next week, you were sitting with your usual washer when sevika came down with a load of laundry very similar to last week, but this time, she actually had her detergent with her

damn

you thought that would be that, you didn’t have an excuse to talk to her this time

but then she walked over to you and leaned on the washer next to you on her forearm, "didn't catch your name last time."

"you didn't ask," you said in a matter-of-fact tone.

her eyebrows raised in surprise as if she wasn't used to people talking to her that way.

which to be clear, she was definitely not used to people talking to her so freely. it was honestly like a breath of fresh air, no expectations since you clearly didn’t know she worked for the man who basically ran zaun

"'s my fault, didn't mean to borrow your detergent and run."

you nodded with a half smirk, snapping your book shut, "you'll have to guess."

now she was actually shocked.

"guess?"

"yup, you gotta guess it."

"you do know that there are countless names in the world right?"

"then i guess you should get started, huh?" you chided and hopped off the machine just as it dinged to indicate that it was finished.

sevika chuckled and shook her head with a roll of her eyes, "guess I'll just have to call you pretty girl for now?"

"oh? what a shame," you grinned up at her and shoved your warm clothes into your plastic laundry basket that was basically cracking apart at the seems

you playfully shoulder-checked her as you pushed past her with your basket on your opposite hip and looked over your shoulder, a thoroughly entertained look on your face that sevika happily took as a challenge

"bye pretty girl," she called after you, a hand on her hip as she watched you leave

playfully waved back at her and made your way up the stairs while sevika was deep in thought, she might need silco's help to win this game

a/n: fun fact i cant whistle

part 2

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan @lez-zuha @comfortripley @sunflowerwinds

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Something Else

Thanos / Choi Su-bong X Nonchalant!Cold!reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.003 - Something Else]|

》 Loading Archive Entry "Something Else" |

》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

》 Notice: Entry Continuation, Archive Entry No.005

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》 Summary: Sometimes, being too calm at intense situations and gaining a bit of attention, even if it's from someone who is too high for this bloody game.|

》 Warnings: Spoilers for Season 2 of Squid game until at least episode 3-4, occur during and before the 1st game, reader's number is 457, implications of drug use, flirting, murder, blood, swearing, Thanos flirting with ji-woo before going after you. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

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You thought everything was messed up, as you had somehow gotten yourselves into this so-called 'Squid Games'.

You wake up in an unknown place filled with people you barely recognize. Although some gave a sense of familiarity, you didn't delve deeper into this feeling. You don't know what was happening after all, all you remember was playing ddakji with some salesman who definitely did not give you a suspicious feeling and gave you a weird card after the game, and then all of a sudden, you're here in this children-themed place. Now, you are being told to sign a waiver before playing a 'game'.

As everyone lined up to sign the paper, the one in front of you, who's number is one lower than you, seemed to be slower than the rest, seemingly actually reading the written rules before signing it.

Shrugging the man's intentions off, you signed the paper with a quick glance at the rules. It might be useful to you in the future, keyword, might.

As you finished signing yours, you walked off the line to go somewhere in the room or the called dormitory. As this occurred, a ruckus was happening on the sideline as a purple-haired man attempted to punch another guy but was stopped by his friend.

You somehow recognized those two from social media, one known for making his fans invest in a crypto coin and the other being a rapper.

You just silently tsked at them before moving along, not noticing the gaze that followed me from the purple-haired dude, but it was soon averted as I noticed another girl.

■■■■

"Everyone please line-up one at a time," the announcement echoed through the labyrinth of a room as people, now called players, each took their turn standing in front of the monitor and taking a pic.

As you waited for your turn, another scene occurred with none other than the rapper from before as many approached him and started mentioning how much of a fan they were of him. He then called all of them to group-up and take a picture together, followed by the man calling the braided girl that you now noticed as player 196, but she rejected him. The whole ordeal was soon stopped by a pink guard nearby.

■■■■

As you reached the end of the labyrinth of stairs of a room, you and the players reached the seemingly 1st game.

An announcer soon welcomed you all before saying to wait as the game starts, Red light, Green light, the game is said. Everyone scoffed and snickered as the said game was a kids' game, but one man wasn't having it as he ran to the front and started screaming of how they would kill you if moved.

As the man screamed, you just raised an eyebrow at the player's antics, what a weird guy, but it wouldn't hurt to d whatever this crazed man says. But it seems a few were still snickering and joking at the man.

Soon, the game started, the child-like doll then started to turn and chanted 'Red light, green light'. Everyone started to move until the doll stopped speaking and turned its head at us. The man earlier screamed to freeze, no one moved.

The same thing repeated until mostly everyone reached the halfway mark.

As everyone froze, the few silent seconds were disrupted by a girl's scream as she spun around and moved before being followed by a gunshot and a thudding of a body. It was soon followed by another scream and gunshots as everyone who panicked and moved was shot and killed with the man from earlier screaming for everyone to not panic and freeze.

The real chaos and hell began.

■■■■

A few moments after the wave of deaths, everyone stood close to each other, lining themselves into lines to hide from the doll's detectors.

The plan somewhat worked, with a few getting detected and shot as they either failed to hide or accidentally moved.

It was once again disrupted as the purple-haired man had killed at least 3 players as he pushed them while the doll's head was still towards everyone. You scoffed at the man for killing others, but did you even have anything to say as the two of you met gaze before you looked away from him, focusing on the game at hand.

As you focused on the game, Thanos, the purple-haired man, couldn't remove his eyes from you. Unlike the other players, you were somehow a bit calmer than them, more eased at this as if it doesn't phase you one bit. It didn't help that he was, at this moment, had already taken his little candy and is over his own head. You were really something.

■■■■

Soon enough, mostly everyone got through the line, and now everyone can finally have a breather as they survived.

Everyone was then brought back to the dormitory, pretty shaken up by the game given to them. Well, everyone but you and some few players, you were pretty shaken up as well, but not to the point you looked like you just went to an actual war field.

As you do your own thing on your bunk bed, Thanos had his gaze on you from the other side. 'Player 457... You're...' "Something else..." he muttered his thoughts as his pupils twitched, looking around before seemingly coming back to you. His looked over to him and asked if he was alright. He answered that he's alright in english, earning a confused look from his friend.

Despite barely meeting nor talking to you like what he did with player 196, he seemed to be just as smitten at you. But could he even manage to muster his hyped feelings before the games take his life?

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》 Archiver's Notes: A short something for someone, @sukratyaropia24 , as a fellow squid game watcher and heavy on Thanos aka T.O.P. Had to skip the majority of what happened during the first game. Apologies for that.

》 Additional Archiver's Notes: Extra notes, I have removed one tag as I have noticed it wasn't even mentioned in the entry, which was reader choosing 'o', more so, the first voting wasn't mentioned yet.

[writersdrug]

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.  

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4(You're here)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 4

The next day, Duke woke up early (and not just because he had training with Bruce and Dick), but the excitement of seeing you again after several days kept him awake all night.

Thank goodness it was the weekend which meant Duke could stay out a little later than usual, although to be honest he would have preferred to stay with you in your new "home" but two things stopped him: The first was that you still hadn't told him where you currently lived for the simple reason that you were still settling into your apartment and the second was because it wasn't in the plans he and Alfred had made.

Just a little longer and you'll be in your (cage) home again.

After his training with Bruce and Dick, Duke thanked them and quickly left to have breakfast and then get ready. Clearly, this attitude on the part of the young man didn't go unnoticed by his mentor or his older brother.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Dick asked Bruce

"No." The security guard shook his head. "Maybe he's going out to see someone. He looks excited."

"Maybe," Dick nodded.

At the dining table were the other family members, Jason and Damian. They both looked at Duke as if he had grown two heads taller just because he was devouring the food as if he hadn't eaten in 100 years.

"You know that the food isn't going to go away, right?" Jason chuckled.

"You should eat properly, Thomas," little Damian scolded.

"I'm sorry, guys!" he apologized as he stood up. "I have something to do and I'm in a bit of a hurry!"

He didn't allow the other vigilantes to ask who he was going to see because he had already left.

As he climbed the stairs, he almost ran into Tim, Cass, and Steph, who looked at him confused.

"Why the rush, Duke? The mansion is burning and we have to evacuate?" Steph joked

"Sorry guys! I'm going to see someone and I'm already late" he said before entering his room

"Oohh˜ Is it a secret girlfriend?" Steph asked the other two

"I don't think so. Duke never talks about girls" Tim said

"What if it's a boy?" Cass proposed

"I don't think so either. He would seem more nervous but he's more excited" she analyzed

Quickly Duke took a shower and changed his clothes. In a backpack he packed his laptop, chargers and wallet. You never know when he might use it and he could also ask you for help with some tasks he had some doubts about.

Once ready Duke went down and headed for the door when Bruce stopped him.

"Where are you going Duke?" the eldest Wayne asked curiously

Duke turned to look at him and with a smile said:

"I'm going out for a while"

"And with who if you don't mind me asking?" Bruce smiled thinking it was some young love

"With (Name)" Duke said as if it was the most normal thing

"(Name)? Wouldn't it be easier if you spent time here at the mansion?" Bruce suggested a little confused by the fact that both preferred to spend time outside the mansion instead of there.

"No, I don't think so, it would be a little complicated for (Name) to get here" the boy answered

"Getting here?" he asked confused "Duke, what are you up to..." he was cut off by the young man

"I'm sorry Bruce but I have to go! I'm running late" he said and then left him with the word in his mouth

Once Duke left, Bruce stared at the door with a frown.

Why would it be difficult for you to get to Wayne Manor when you lived there?

Unless...

"Alfred!" called the butler

The game began

"Yes Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he approached to see what he needed but he already knew very well

Alfred who was watching Bruce and Duke's interaction from the shadows of the mansion, had a sly smile on his face that hid when his son called for him.

"What? What do you mean they don't live here anymore?" Bruce asked the butler

"That's right Master Bruce. I thought you had realized that" Alfred said quietly

"No! I don't..." he sighed heavily and sat down in his chair while hiding his face in his hands

"I've been very busy" Wayne excused himself which made Alfred frown

"Busy? Busy for 15 years? So busy that he didn't give them even 5 minutes of his attention but still spent time with the other young masters?" Alfred pointed out

Bruce's heart stopped for a moment at his words. He was right (as always). How could he forget for 15 years his eldest heir, his first blood kid? Yes, the night with your mother had been fleeting but, you weren't to blame for his actions. But he should have been there for you when you lost your parents, in fact, since before your birth he should have been there for you and your mother since she was pregnant.

But now he didn't regret it. He knows he screwed up, but now he could fix it. He could buy you anything you want, go to your competitions, watch movies with you or do anything you like but...

What do you like to do?

What are your hobbies?

What movies do you like?

But now that he thinks about it...

What grade are you in? Are you in high school or already in college?

And if you're already in college, did you miss your graduation? What are you studying?

And what about your age? Your friends?

Who are you?

"Alfred" he turned to look at the butler who just looked at him neutrally "Where are they?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer your question, Master Bruce. They didn't leave a clue as to where they were going" Alfred replied

"What?" he stood up from his chair

"That's right" he nodded

After a few minutes of silence Bruce spoke again.

"And where is their room?"

He doesn't even remember the room he assigned you

"Follow me, sir."

"This is it, sir." Alfred stopped in front of a white door with some (f/c) (favorite color) decorations painted on it.

Bruce approached and caressed the details of the door as if just touching them would give him the power to know you better despite the years.

The eldest Wayne opened the door to your room only to find an empty room, a bed with the sheets and blankets folded on top of it and the walls in your favorite color.

"I don't remember when they painted their room," Bruce said as he looked around.

"They changed the color a couple of times. The last time they painted their room was when Master Duke arrived. He offered them his help after they helped him settle in better at the Manor," Alfred explained as he also looked at the room, not with curiosity like Bruce did but with longing and melancholy.

Bruce looked around the empty room and despite being the best detective in the world he couldn't find any clues as to who you really were or where you might have gone.

"Tsk... There's nothing here..." he muttered to himself

"Maybe... You should ask the other young masters and mistresses" Alfred suggested

"Maybe they saw you on your last day"

"Yeah..." Bruce snapped out of his thoughts "Maybe they know something"

After that, he left your empty room leaving the old butler alone. Alfred looked around the room one last time before leaving and closing the door.

Don't worry (Name), soon you'll have a better room than the last one.

While chaos was beginning to spread at the Wayne residence, you were waiting for Duke in the park in downtown Gotham just as you had agreed on the phone.

You were checking your phone while sitting on a bench. You were tired of waiting for your brother, but you would wait for him as long as necessary. You also understood that Wayne Manor was not that close to the center since it was somewhat (very) far from the rest of the city and if you were honest, from afar the mansion seemed somewhat haunted and when you were little you couldn't help but think it was Dracula's mansion. And those same thoughts made you feel terrified of living in that place, especially when it rained. You always went to Alfred for protection and the kind butler always assured you that there was nothing to fear and that Dracula was not real. Clearly, the mind of your 4-year-old self didn't think the same, and your idea didn't change when you discovered that your family were all security guards who only worked at night and that their symbols were bats (although some also had birds on their suits).

You smiled at that memory from your childhood, maybe not so pleasant at the time but now, at 19 years old, it made you laugh.

"Hey (Name)!" a voice made you come out of your daydream

When you turned to see who it was, you saw Duke running towards you with a big smile on his lips. You quickly got up from the bench you were sitting on and before you could take two steps, Duke had already reached where you were and hugged you.

You laughed at his somewhat childish attitude but you hugged him gladly anyway.

"It seems like you missed me" you joked still hugging him

"Of course I did" he turned to look at you "You are sorely missed at the mansion"

That's not true...

You wanted to contradict what he had said but to be honest you didn't want to fight with Duke and much less talk about the mansion and its inhabitants.

"Well well" you giggled "Where do you want to go? There are a couple of cafes around here if you want to go get something to drink and if you want we can go to the arcade to play some video games afterwards"

Even though Duke felt a little disappointed that you broke the hug between the two of you his eyes lit up when you mentioned the arcade.

"Sure! Let's go!" he said excitedly

"Okay, let's go" you smiled at him and then started walking towards a cafe you frequented

When you got to the cafe you both stood in line to order. When it was finally your turn you smiled at the barista and greeted him.

"Hey Mark" you greeted the boy

"Oh hey (Name)!" the boy greeted you back with a smile in kind "How are you? How's the race going?"

"Fine fine, a little too tiring" you chuckled "But I'm enjoying it"

"I'm glad to hear that" the boy smiled at you "Are you going to want the usual?"

"Yes please and you Duke?" you turned to see your brother who had just been staring at the boy and without you realizing it he was giving him a look that could kill anyone

Who was that boy?

A partner, friend, a crush? Or even worse...

A secret boyfriend?

Duke knew better than anyone that you were extremely good at keeping secrets so he wouldn't doubt that you had a partner and didn't tell anyone.

Damn... This made his plan more urgent...

Your voice brought Duke back to reality and his smile returned to his face.

"Oh yeah, I'd like a hot chocolate please."

"Okay," the young man nodded.

You paid for both drinks and waited a few minutes for your drinks to be prepared. Once you had your drinks, you sat down at a small table near the cafe window.

"So... how do you know that guy?" Duke asked you

"Well, I usually frequent this cafe, and he's usually here when I come so he already knows me a little" you giggled

"I see..." Duke said and then smiled "So tell me, how did college go for you?"

You were studying journalism, inspired by your father or rather stepfather, (F/N). And even though many people you knew tried to change your mind about it, you always remained sure of your decision. You were in your third semester, since the first 2 semesters you took online and to be honest, it was a little harder but much more fun and interesting.

"I'm doing great!" You said with a big smile "I've met so many interesting and nice people and the face-to-face classes are a little more difficult but I feel like I'm learning. One of my teachers is assigning us tutors who are high-level journalists and although I'm still waiting to see who is assigned to me as a tutor I just hope it's good"

"That sounds great!" Duke smiled

Even though he looked happy on the outside, he was actually frustrated on the inside.

Were you really that happy away from the mansion?

Away from them?

Away from him?

No, it can't be... That's impossible

He had missed you from the first second he found out you were gone!

Had you stopped loving him?

Is that why you don't tell him where you're living?

He was wondering all that but when he looked into your eyes he calmed down.

No, that wasn't possible

You are someone so sweet and kind, you would never forget him

If you did, why would you be there with him?

But even so, he wasn't going to take the risk, even though he enjoyed seeing you happy...

YOU NEED TO GO BACK HOME

Hellooo! Here's the next chapter! I hope you all like It and enjoy it! Sorry for taking a bit to publish this but I've been kind of busy, still I hope I publish the next chapter sooner. Also, I've been tagging everyone in the TAG LIST so tell me if you want me to add you!

Anyway, if you liked it I would appreciate if you leave a heart and I'm Also interested to heart if you have any ideas or opinions about the story.

See you in the next one!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun @profounddestinyrebel @holyfishbailiffpeanut @toast-on-dandelioms @dhanyasri @kiarst @phoenixgurl030 @wpdarlingpan @glitterisname @sackofsadstuff @riddle-me-im-sirius @sirenetheblogger @bat1212 @bluelock4life @revysplacexxx @skz-goose @mistfire1999 @vanessa-boo @tatsuri-zomushiki @kore-of-the-underworld @milliu @lee-bits @ch1cky-093 @leiiasurez @bluemidnightmelodies @lilyalone @plsfckmedxddy @lovebug-apple @jisnothere @akanegotlost @stormz369 @sugarpiehoe @mddbsf @shhhhhhhhhhtellnobody @i-adorehannah @darktrashpoetry @fantasyhopperhea @d3sperate-enuf @expctron @horror-lover-69 @caffeinatedhearts12 @niggrroo

[wintaerbaer]

bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.” 

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso. 

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

[sunsburns]

okay but logan taking an interest in neighbor who works in fashion?? he always sees her carrying stacks of magazines, dressed in her chic attire that is sometimes a bit too tight in all the right areas, glasses slipping off her nose, always making calls on that damn phone, and yet he always wishes she looked his way…

oh anon ur cooking here. i think this is what's pulling me out of my writing slump 🥴 (wade breaking the fourth wall, suggestive 16+)

the first time he noticed you, it wasn't even in your building complex, but rather the stairs to the subway station down the street. you were rushing up the steps while he, wade, laura and al were just about to enter. it was al who noticed you first, calling out your name and poking your side with her walking staff.

you shrieked, dropping one of the fabric rolls you had been carrying, a curse at the tip of your tongue before you realized who it was. "al," you sighed, a little relieved, when you saw her and wade, who was dressed in a "i love nyc" t-shirt.

logan, being the gentleman he was, picked up the roll you dropped, handing it back to you. it was then that you looked at him, or well, briefly glanced his way with a quick "thank you" before wade started fucking talking.

that son of a bitch.

he didn't even have the courtesy to introduce the two of you to each other.

it was obvious you were in a rush, lips in a tight smile as you nodded and tried to smile at wade telling you all about how they were about to "hit up" times square.

logan felt bad for you, but only a little bit. the longer you stayed to listen to wade's painful monologue, the more he could look at you. he was a little shameless about it, perhaps not the most gentlemanly thing he could've done, but god you were just a sight for sore eyes.

a pretty thing in a mini skirt despite the cool late september breeze that was starting to kick, white, lace and ruffled. delicate with tall brown leather boots. and a washed-out denim vest you wore as a top, two buttons undone, a little pink bow tied to the pocket. logan didn't know a lot about fashion, but he liked the way clothes looked on you.

and then you were gone, al kicking wade across the shin to shut him the hell up when she realized you were in a rush. she let you go, and you left, quickly trading numbers with laura and without saying much of a goodbye or another glance logan's way.

but he watched you go, watched the way your skirt moved with the wind too.

"yeah, look at it bounce. god, i am no better than any man. " wade hummed, leaning all his weight on logan's side. "i didn't peg you as a creep, honey badger. with the way you were undressing the reader with your eyes, i would've thought you were on a registered sex offender's list."

"shut the fuck up, wade."

logan could hear the way laura snorted, her and al continuing their way down the stairs.

wade held his hands up in surrender before logan could try anything (and by anything, he meant to cut him to pieces. wade can't deal with that right now, the blood would take ages to get off his white shirt). "i'm just saying, after living with us for a few months, i would've thought you'd met her by now."

logan raised his brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean, she literally lives across the hall." wade turned his head to the side, pointing his thumb at logan, "he can't possibly be this stupid, right? it's gotta be for the plot to build up tension or something."

from that day on, logan's started to notice you more. not that he was looking for you, he's not that big of a creep. but he's spotted you out the window some days, running down the sidewalk, always in a rush. then he was able to hear the way you slam your door shut when you leave in the mornings or when you get back home.

every single day, you're usually out and about. unless it's a sunday, those are the days you stay in your apartment, sewing and hanging out with blind old al and sometimes even fucking laura. turns out, you were the one who got laura all of those new clothes, made them for her.

jesus christ, how out of the loop was he?

you stood out like a sore thumb, always carrying something. whether it be magazines, sketchbooks, fabric rolls, or bags, you're always struggling to open your door when you get home, keys sometimes slipping from your grasp as you're trying to juggle everything.

one day, logan had come back from a run and spotted you in the hallway. well, he had heard you from floors below and was able to pick up the lingering scent of your perfume by the time he entered the lobby. it took him a bit of courage to walk up the few flights of stairs knowing he'd bump into you.

what the fuck was this?

he was a grown-ass man for god's sake. you had him overthinking and blushing at the mere thought of being in the same space again.

when he saw you in the hallway, you were on the phone, the device tucked between your ear and your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you tried to pick up your keys. you were wearing a black dress that day, a black hat and a big maroon scarf around your neck, "no, emily, don't fucking buy it in that colour. it looks like fucking vomit. i don't care what amy told you, she's basically colour blind-"

you stopped mid-sentence when logan appeared in front of you, grabbing the keys for you. "oh- uh. thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

he noticed your nails and glasses were dark red to match the scarf. lipstick too.

you didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, he could tell from the way you froze, as if you didn't know what was supposed to happen next. he had disrupted your daily pattern, everything in your life moving constantly and quickly but all of a sudden everything is slower. it left you breathless.

"you're logan, right?"

he furrowed his brows. he hadn't expected you to remember him, nevertheless, remember his name. "yeah."

"wade told me all about you," you said, and your eyes dropped from his face a little, then lower, a smirk not too different from a sly cat's. you were staring shamelessly, eyes following every part and curve of his body, the way his long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin with sweat. "you don't seem austrailan."

logan tried not to groan. the picture of wade's stupid face in his mind now that you've mentioned him. he hated that the two of you seemed close. "i'm canadian."

"aren't you full of surprises?" you laughed, a smooth, teasing sound, and finally pushed the keys into the nob, unlocking the door. you turned, lingering by the door as if you were about to invite him in, but then the voice from your phone was trying to get your attention and you nearly seemed disappointed. "i'll see you around, logan."

and you were gone again.

logan liked to see your different outfits every day, dawning a different style every time you walked out that door. it was like you could never settle for one style, but you managed to look so fucking good in everything and every colour you put on.

he could never get tired of it. never get tired of you.

you and your tiny bottoms that he swore were getting smaller and smaller every day, even though the city grew colder and the days shorter. you and your stupid phone calls that sometimes went on late at night. you and your clothes, every single one different from the last.

you and your sketches, the ones he had started to find loose pages on the floor of the small hallway between your apartments, pretty designs of lingerie on a model that looked a little bit too much like you for it to be a coincidence.

though you never made another attempt to talk to him, you knew he was watching you. but you never chased, your heels were too expensive for that. you were just trying to give him a reason to come on you.

to you**

to come to you.*

sorry. typo.