#something about fog itches my brain so well

[meelonkurb]

Tallinn on a foggy day

2023 January

[hwallazia]

SIREN – 최산

synopsis . in which too many words aren’t needed to get laid with your dream man.

pairing . choi san & fem!reader

genre . smut (mdni!), strangers to lovers ??? (or smth like that), tooth rotting fluff at the end (ofc, it wouldn’t be a hwallazia work otherwise), non idol!au

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 4,1k

DISCLAIMER! sub!san (in the beginning he acts all tough but he’s just a shy man who needs to be taken care of), dom!reader, unprotected sex (wrap before tap fellas), dirty talk, lots of teasing (reader taunts our poor needy sannie way too much), dacryphilia?, overstimulation, cowgirl position, blowjob, dry humping?, begging oh so much begging, creampie, squirting, petnames (sannie, baby, love, darling & more), softest!dom san at the end ((⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠))

NIC’S NOTES this is totally inspired in bruno mars & cardi b’s “please me” music video (song rec for the fic ofc!). firstly, i thought of writing this for yunho, but the idea of submissive san is just... *sighs* makes me go feral. i have no more words. so well, i hope you enjoy reading.. whatever this is <3

laughter echoing, heels clicking against the ground, and jewelry shining with the intermittent city lights. the night out with your girls was a total success, with a couple of boys dripping over themselves from just the look of your slim, god-sculpted figures and playful, perfect grins, teeth white as pearls. of course, a few sluts jealous of all the attention you and your crew were receiving —you think that one of the boys who asked for your number was some plastic blondie’s boyfriend. saying that you felt absolutely unreachable was an understatement, your red lipstick sticking perfectly to your desirable lips, your not-so-covering outfit fitting your body just right and your siren-like eyes making the legs of every man you ever landed your gaze quivering in anticipation. the effect you had was supernatural and the smooth masculine attention made your stomach jump in excitement and narcissism, your mind clouded by a god-complex fog.

even though some of the men who approached you with clear second intentions were hot and you’d understand if he had a queue of girls who wanted to get laid with him, you didn’t find any of them good enough for you. it’d be just a one-night thing but still, you wanted to look for a man that made your heart flutter just with the sight of him. unfortunately, that didn’t happen in the club, so you and your girls retired once the clock hit 4.

you all were still too hyped and too beautiful to go to your houses, so you decided to go to a taco place since your friend, mia, was craving some good tacos. with a fifteen-minute walk, you got to the restaurant. as your friends kept laughing loudly over something you wouldn’t understand even if you were sober, you pushed the door open, the bell above it making an annoying sound for your intoxicated brain. you analyzed the place: cookers doing their thing behind the counter, being the ones to blame for the fire coming from pans and the toe-curling smell of meat and fried condiments; a lovey-dovey couple sitting in the table of the corner, way too far from your location; and a few tables full of people of all ages. but there was this one table that your group couldn’t help but watch intently: four gentlemen talking about god knows what and drinking their “corona” brand beers occasionally. one of them noticed how his intense and siren-like gaze was above them, his legs sloppily kicking their friends under the table.

“ow! wooyoung what was that f—” the tall, bulky-figured man called san whined before he turned around and saw you and your group still standing right next to the entrance. holy fuck, he immediately thought. he had never seen a woman as flawless as you, your curves making his hands itch from the solely and uncontrollable desire of touching them. he licked his lips in anticipation.

“fuck, look at that girl.” who kicked his leg, wooyoung, expressed out of breath the moment his eyes landed on your friend, hana. heat suddenly running up his neck and ears, the same happening to the tallest of them, yunho, when he fixated his black orbs on hana’s sibling, yoona. “finest woman i’ve ever seen.”

“same here.” the second tallest sitting at the table, mingi, agreed as well as he analyzed mia’s figure; his bottom lip caught between his perfect white row of teeth, eyes telling not very biblical tales.

“i think i got hard,” wooyoung said and lowered his head to meet his non-erected crotch, earning a slightly harsh fist landing on the side of his shoulder, courtesy of yunho.

“how old are you, man? really” san spoke hypocritically. his dirty mind was playing the same or worse scenarios wooyoung’s had been thinking of with hana but with you. he was already picturing you naked, bent over his kitchen counter, your notorious plump ass completely under his mercy, drawing all the faces you could possibly make as his cock rammed roughly inside you, the flesh of your ass bouncing every time his hips met yours. even though he hasn’t heard your voice yet, he can imagine the divine, cute moans you would mutter with his cock still pistoning against your wet and incredibly tight—

“san? you good, man?” mingi swung his hand right in front of his reddened face, a laugh coming from his friends the moment he slightly shook his head, waggling the sinful thoughts away.

“someone was fantasizing” wooyoung teased in a singsong tone, mingi and yunho chuckling as well.

“hell. we gotta take those ladies home.” san uttered rapidly before his mind could process his thoughts. the men’s eyes fixated on your group, which was already sitting at a table near them, mia and hana enjoying two tacos each while you and yoona kept drinking a cocktail. they didn’t know what you and your friends were laughing about, but they desperately wished they could be part of the conversation. and they would.

“okay. fellas,” wooyoung started, his friends turning their heads. “follow me and my charm.”

san, mingi, and yunho sighed in unison. they didn’t know when the day would come when they would put up with at least half of the narcissism of their friend who was standing up, by the way, drawing hana’s attention, who had been watching him since he entered that restaurant. he made his way to your table, the rest of his friends following his steps like a toddler looking up to his older brother. although the boys would never have wooyoung as a role model.

“well hello ladies,” he pulled out the most charming, gravel-like voice he could, his friends choking a laugh since they perfectly knew that wooyoung was overdoing it. but if it gets them the results they’re expecting then they’d let him be. “do y’all mind us sitting here?”

the eight of you weren’t stupid, you knew what you wanted. and you and your girls, especially, were desperate for those men’s attention. dancing and twerking over completely random strangers just to get their cocks hard and leave was exhausting and unproductive since none of them were good enough for y’all. so the four of you didn’t waste another second and stood up from their places, each of you approaching your desired man: yoona with yunho, mingi with mia, wooyoung with hana, and you with san.

you grabbed his wrist, guiding him to a different table, far from your and his friends’ location, your unfinished drink left on the table. you sat first and san did the same thing, making himself a place next to you, his gaze locked with yours still without saying a word. you both just let your eyes talk for you, a fire ignited inside san’s dark orbs.

you both turned your heads to the exit door the moment you heard the ringing of a bell, wooyoung and mia disappearing behind it. before he could totally abandon the place, he looked at san and gave him a thumbs up holding a champion grin drawn on his face. once the door clicked shut, san chuckled deeply, your skin trembling just from the sound of it.

“hah, wooyoung really knows how to play.” he exhaled looking down for a bit but not doubting a slight second to return his eyes to yours, your absurdly captivating eyes.

“oh so wooyoung is his name?” you asked, a hint of seduction hidden in your voice.

“yes, why’re you asking?” he replied hiding his nervousness in fake bravery. aren’t you interested in him? why’d you ask for his friend? his best friend?

“he’s cute.” you smiled as if it wasn’t a big deal.

san’s insides were hollering with your response. “cute?!” his desperate mind screamed. he cleared his throat for a second before responding what moments ago he thought he wouldn’t be able to answer. “then why’d you come up to me instead of him?”

his little jealous act made your heart tender. was he already jealous of you calling other men “cute” when he doesn’t even know your name? adorable.

“’cause you’re cuter,” you said leaning close enough to him to pinch the tip of his nose, you didn’t miss the little scrunch he did. oh, this man was going to be the death of you. you pulled away with a grin before continuing. “so...” you trailed off, expecting him to complete your words with his name, still unknown to you.

“san.”

“san,” you repeated in a velvety tone that made san’s ear and belly tingle. “where do you wanna take this?”

san’s nervousness was quickly replaced by all the thoughts he had earlier when he first saw you. now he was the one who smoothly bent his figure over yours, cornering you between the wall and his bulky body. “as far as you allow me” his honey-dripping, but still sinful voice rang inside your eardrums, making you want to hear it all night long.

you smirked at his complete willingness and couldn’t help but kiss his lips. san hummed in the kiss, feeling relieved since he had been wanting to devour you the moment he saw you come through that door. his excitement won over his conservative side so he acted accordingly, his right hand made its way up to your jaw to insert his hot, skillful tongue inside your cavity; a soft whine from you was heard. you didn’t want to wait for his other hand to grab your waist, so you straddle his lap, your tiny skirt lifting up consequently, almost revealing your lace panties. san, like the gentleman he is, let you settle comfortably on him before reaching your skirt and pulling it down, so it could at least cover the important parts.

you finally broke the intense, breath-taking kiss just to mutter right on his lips. “let’s get out of here, hm?”

a few minutes passed and you both were already abandoning the place, getting in san’s car. you had agreed to go to san’s place, and san was more than pleased to take a woman like you home. the ride to his apartment was full of lingering touches here and there that were more than just skin-to-skin contact. your hand caressed his thigh dangerously, your long nails faintly stroking his hardened bulge. the self-control that san had to not jerk his hips upwards was supernatural, and you found this very amusing and hot.

you straightened your back and leaned over him, one of your breasts touching his arm faintly, which was gripping the gear lever with all the strength he had. “you’re very good at keeping it cool. let’s see if you still can when i suck your cock.” you sentenced, finally stroking his tight crotch, the hiss coming from his lips only feeding your eagerness to keep touching him, apparently, the way he likes.

“ugh, please” the fact that he was driving prevented him from shutting his eyes and throwing his head back, the feeling being too good to be true. what were you doing to him? you didn’t even have your hand wrapped around his dick, so why was he already panting like a bitch in heat? “p-please, i can’t—ugh—”

“don’t tell me you’re gonna cum with just a couple of strokes?” your teasing tone made his body shiver even more, this action not going unnoticed by you. a smirk was drawn on your lips, the effect you had on this man was even hot for you.

“n-no, i’m not.. ’s just that—hmph!” you grasped his cock tightly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in satisfaction.

“eyes on the road, sannie.” your velvet voice enveloped him even more in the cloud of your attracting effect. something inside san, warm and glowing at the praise, made his hanged-open mouth to let out the most precious mewl you’ve ever heard. you touched him three times more before releasing your grip on his cock, the silhouette of a slightly wet tent made your pussy clench.

“w-why’d you stop?” he whined at the loss of contact, his leg bouncing up and down in desperation.

you smiled, fingers brushing over the soft skin of san’s cheek. “let’s get home first, cutie.”

and he didn’t have to be told twice, his feet stepping harshly on the accelerator, your back hitting the car seat in consequence. “so desperate” you muttered under your breath, san being unable to hear your words.

finally, you made it to san’s place. he urgently rummaged through his pockets, looking for his apartment key. he inserted it on the lock and twisted it, opening the door. behind it, a dim-lighted, minimalistic, and quite spacious studio apartment was hidden, you entered before san did, looking all around you. “well uhm. this is my—mph!” he spoke while turning around to face you, but he was suddenly interrupted when you threw yourself at him to kiss him once again. you had become addicted to it on such short notice. you walked forward so he was walking backward, your eyes opening a little in the middle of the kiss to locate his bed. the moment you introduced your tongue inside his cavity, he knew it was over. he definitely wasn’t going to be the dominant one tonight. you guided him into his own bed, and when his calves hit its frame, he knew he could sit. you analyzed him before straddling his lap. god, san must’ve been sculpted by the heavens, all broad shoulders and chiseled muscles and a tapering waist that you had been a little obsessed with from the moment you landed your eyes on him.

you finally settled just fine on his lap, already making yourself a home in it. san instinctively grabbed a few handfuls of your ass before getting rid of your annoying top, your bra being the only piece of cloth attached to your body. but san was growing impatient, his lips desiring more than anything to suck your breasts. and fortunately, no words were needed since you could read him like a book. your hands reached your back and unhooked your bra in an instant, giggling at san’s excited mouth which didn’t waste much time before wrapping his lips around your nipples. hips stuttering at the feeling.

eventually, san included teeth and tongue to his ministrations, your back arching in response. “oh fuck, sannie. keep going,” you stroked his locks of hair and his nape tenderly. you continued speaking, “sucking a nameless woman’s tits. what does that have to say about you, darling?” you teased.

oh fuck you were right. you had asked him for his name, but he didn’t even bother, way too desperate for your body to even start with the formalities. he stopped his movements and unattached his lips from your nipple, it became erected when the cold air of the room passed through it, a shiver running down your spine. he stopped pleasuring you, but your hips were still rocking against his bulged cock, pants leaving his and your mouth. “i-i’m sorry. what’s—hah—your name?”

“yn, love.” you simply answered and brought your lips closer to the curvature of his ear, continuing your words in a faint whisper. “but you can call me whatever you want tonight” you tilted your head to the side and attached your lips to his neck, spreading sloppy kisses and licks all along it.

he was getting more and more excited as the minutes passed, which seemed to pass tortuously slowly. your bouncing hips placed significant pressure on his crotch, making his insides scream for relief. whines started to leave san’s mouth.

“a-ah, stop please.. it hurts” he pleaded with a broken voice, his aching cock begging for release. you stared at him from above, his sparkling eyes melting your heart.

“need something, baby?” your teasing tone was driving him over the edge. he didn’t want, he required your mouth on his cock. and now, otherwise, he’d explode.

“touch me, please” he whined. “i can’t take it.”

you were starting to feel sorry for the tightness you felt perfectly underneath you, but a small part of you wanted to keep messing with him for a bit longer. “but i am touching you, dear. need you to be more specific.”

he let out a shameless mewl at your words, closing his eyes for a second. suddenly, san on the verge of tears “just touch my cock! suck it, or fuck me. i don’t know, whatever you please but do something! please..”

a loving sigh left your lips as you caressed san’s cheek tenderly. “aw, baby. i’ll give you just what you want.”

you promised and complied. you moved off his thighs to get on your knees, shyness not being a feeling. the perfect fit of your figure between san’s toned legs made his cock twitch. your manicured hands trailed their way up to his pants, your fingers unbuckling his belt and pulling them down in a fast movement. you were desperate too, you had been craving his touch —and other prohibited things— all night. and finally your wish would come true.

you stroked his exposed member before running your tongue all over it, still not putting it explicitly in your mouth. his angry, reddened tip leaked drips of pre-cum, making it look like tiny pearls. you were impressed by the length and girth of it, the sight being completely mouth-watering. you didn’t make the poor man above you wait any longer, so you opened your mouth widely to finally dive in, enveloping his cock with your welcoming heat.

the sensation was overwhelming for san since his cock was sensitive from all the teasing you had done before. then he was forced to put all his weight on his arms which, located at his sides, tightly gripped the white sheets that would soon be soaked.

“oh my—fuck—” he choked out, sweat running down his temples.

your head bobbed up and down his length, what you couldn’t fit inside your mouth was being attended by your skillful hand. san’s high-pitched and breathy moans started to get louder when your nails caressed his balls gently while you took him all the way down, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat.

“close.. ugh, so fucking close” he exhaled, still grasping the sheets underneath him. because he couldn’t bring himself to touch, like you’re fragile, and everything will shatter if he does. even though he was the openly desperate one, he’d let you go at your own pace, politely petting your hair. “i—ah—i’m gonna cum, wait” he warned frantically and breathlessly, his hand pushing your shoulder gently, he didn’t want you to get dirty with his cum. such a gentleman even in a situation as lewd as that.

but you didn’t seem to care, way too immersed in his throbbing, addicting cock. you were committed to making his cum. and you did, a broken holler leaving san’s lip, swollen and red from biting them so harshly as your cavity was filled with hot spurts of his cum.

but that wasn’t enough for you. so you kept pumping his dick slowly as you got up, san’s hips jerking underneath you, shrieks coming from his mouth resonated across the room. after getting rid of your skirt, you resumed your initial position and placed your knees at his sides, his tired hands immediately resting on the outer sides of your thighs. you didn’t give him much time to recompose as you aligned his cock to your wet, unattended entrance.

“uh—wait yn, i just came. give me just a min—ahh!” he begged the moment he saw your body lower on his sensitive member. but it was too late, you had already pushed your panties aside and started bouncing up and down his length.

once again, the overwhelming sensation overcame san, and he surrendered, collapsing onto the mattress. a rush of coolness ran down his spine as the cold sheets met his sweat-drenched back, sending shivers through his entire body. you took advantage of his vulnerable position, resting your hands on his firm, plump chest. you began to bounce even harder, determined to milk every last drop of cum from his cock, feeling the tension build with each movement.

at that point, san was only blubbering nonsense underneath you, delirious, fucked out of his mind, his eyes glassy and lewd whines leaving his slick lips. “fuck—’s too much, too much, ahh!” he shamelessly moaned, not caring even a little bit about how loud he was. he’d probably lots of complaints from his neighbors. but he’d take care of that tomorrow, right now all he could this about was you and your wet, warm, and pulsating cunt squeezing his cock divinely.

“keep screaming for me, pretty boy” you expressed, unashamed as well. “make the whole building know who’s making you feel good.”

san whimpered even more loudly in response. “fuck—yn, please”

“who’s making you feel good?” you repeated just to get another couple of whispered ‘please’ as a response. but those weren’t the words you wanted to hear. “answer.”

your stern tone sent a warmer heat down his belly. “you, yn” he managed to respond but in a faint murmur. and still, that wasn’t what you were looking for. in consequence, you lifted your body up to only envelope his red tip with your walls and squeezed them on purpose, earning a loud, prolonged cry. “ah! yn, please!”

a smirk was drawn on his lips, satisfyingly going down him again. “please what, love?”

“make me cum! please, make me cum again” he mewled, a couple of tears streaming down his cheeks.

“isn’t that too greedy from you? you came not long ago.” you taunted him for the last time in the night.

“yes, i’m greedy! i just—ahh! i need to cum, pleasepleaseplease” he whimpered, repeating his prayers like a mantra.

you, enlightened by his begging, smiled sweetly and trapped his right nipple between your index and middle finger, playfully twisting them. “then cum, sannie. make a mess inside me.”

and those were the only words he needed, his cum even spilling out of your ravished cunt, mixed with your warm, clear juices. a sigh left your lips, your insides filled to the brim. “ahh, good boy, sannie. goood boy.” you trailed off your words as you fondled his cheeks, covered in sweat and tears.

your tired state made your body move faster than your mind could process and you laid down next to him. a few minutes of silence were necessary to stabilize your breathing and regain a normal body temperature. the cold night began to show its effects on each other’s skin, both suddenly feeling your hair stand on end.

“ooh” you uttered at the rushing cold breeze that ran through your legs up to your spine. “it’s cold.”

san didn’t say any words and just stretched his arm to reach the least dirty blanket and cover your bodies with it. he brought your figure closer to his as he enclosed your shoulder with his strong arm. a weird feeling of safety drowning your insides. it was such an intimate and loving moment even though the only thing you knew about each other was the other’s name. still, you didn’t want to move, you strangely enjoyed his company more than you expected.

san, after moments of complete silence, spoke, “wanna go out tomorrow?”

“mm? go out?”

“yeah. even though i only know your name, you’re the most beautiful, breathtaking woman i’ve ever seen in my life. and don’t get me wrong, i loved this, i think i might have an obsession with your body now.” you both chuckled, “but it’d be my greatest pleasure if you let me take you out on a date tomorrow.” he stared at you for a moment before continuing, “wanna know more about you.”

your still dumbfounded mind didn’t let you think clearly, so you could only mutter a few words, “apart from my name?”

he giggled softly, your heart melting as the sound reached your ears. a warmth spreaded through your chest consequently. “apart from your name.” he confirmed.

you didn’t have much to think about. this had never happened to you with any of the guys you had slept with, and it had always been your dream to find the one. the one who, in addition to your body, is interested in your soul, what you have to give. and it seemed like your dream man was right next to you, wrapping you with his captivating, safe arms. then your response was automatic, tenderly silent. “yes, i’d love to.”

san smiled fondly. “it’s settled then.” he brought his lips to your forehead to place a short, sincere kiss. “thank you, princess” he whispered in a low, sweet tone. your cheeks and heart warming at the sound of it. “let’s get some sleep, hm?”

you hummed lowly in response, nestling comfortably in his chest. reality hadn’t hit you yet, but it would soon. tomorrow! more specifically. but, for the moment, you just dedicated yourself to sleep soundly, trapped between the love of your life and wet sheets.

| masterlist

[lilyofthesword-writes]

What Should Be - Part 2 (Batman)

Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?

Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)

Word Count: 1,013

Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries 

Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)

Part 1 |  | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue

Masterlist

“Babe, you okay? Did you not sleep?” your partner queried, setting a mug in front of you.

“Y-yeah. I just… just couldn’t stay away from my research, I guess.”

You gratefully grasped the handle. There was no way you could tell them. How could you tell them that a man dressed as bat was in your apartment who knew your name and just disappeared into thin air, that the symbol shining on the clouds afterward made the back of your mind itch so fervently it made sleep impossible, that you wound up curled up on the sofa staring out the window until dawn?

“Well, consider those bags under your eyes punishment,” they teased.

“Ha. Ha. Don’t you have an office to go to?”

“Don’t you?” they quipped.

You started to nod in the direction of the hall where your study lay when you noticed something. There was a third setting at the kitchen table, a third setting with a full plate of untouched food.

“Where’s Torrence?”

Your partner hummed in question. You only had eyes for the plate.

“I said, ‘Where’s Torrence?’”

“Umm, he’s at school,” they replied matter-of-factly.

You shook your head as if that would clear the fog that had into your mind. “But then why—”

“We were just downstairs like fifteen minutes ago to see him onto the bus. Don’t you remember?”

Right… You did that every morning. At least, that’s what your brain was telling you. So… Why couldn’t you recall any memories of doing so?

Your partner’s hand coaxed you to look at them. Their eyes swam with worry and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t catch anything from staying up late, did you?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…”

You pulled away, ready to ask a question about the food when the words lodged themselves in your throat. The plate was gone. It was as if it had never existed in the first place. And the mug? It was filled with a hot, viscous liquid akin to dirty oil. The putrid smell invaded and set up camp in your nostrils.

“Umm… Actually, I think I’m gonna lay back down for a bit,” you spoke airily, rising to your feet just a hair too fast.

Your partner was quick to rebalance you. “Do you— Do you want me to stay? I- I can call out and—”

“No!” you cut off their rambling. “No, it’s fine. It’s just some fatigue. A quick nap and I’ll be back to normal.”

They squeezed your shoulders in an act of reassurance, to ground you. All you felt were creepy-crawlies in the wake of their touch.

When your partner was finally out the door, you shivered and frantically rubbed your arms as though you were brushing bugs off your skin. Why had all this felt so wrong?

Yeah… Sleep was the best thing for you right now.

A rhythmic tap sounded from your window. You padded across the floor to answer. Drawing back the curtains, you found a different man in skin tight black and blue suit. It reminded you of a gymnast’s costume. The man perched on the fire escape expectantly. You opened the window.

“Thanks! Do you have a minute? I need to pick your brain.” He sounded cheerful, but there was an edge to it. 

“I guess. Come on in,” you replied.

You stepped aside to allow one of the city’s many vigilantes into your home. 

“So, uh…” you folded your arms awkwardly, “You have me… Concerned. Bats is usually the one asking questions. Maybe the little one. Robin, right? And Nightiwng is a Bludhaven guy. What could possibly bring you here?”

“Nothing to worry about,” he attempted to laugh. He stood tall in the middle of your shabby, dimly lit living room, but nothing about his stance exuded the confidence you had come to know from any of Batman’s crew. “Just wanted to ask you something.”

The pain in your thigh pulsed. “Right…” You frowned as you plopped onto the couch. “Alright, then. Ask away.”

“Well,” Nightwing cleared his throat. “I know Batman has been coming to you for your insight on some of the stranger happenings—”

A disgruntled, distorted grunt came from the as it slid open. A familiar red helmet came into view as another man entered your home.

“B’s missing. You seen him recently?” Red Hood got straight to the point.

Nightwing clicked his tongue. “No tact.”

“You’re one to talk,” Red Hood rounded on him. “What was that just now?

“I was trying to breech the subject more gently.”

“Gently? We don’t have time for—”

“Boys!” you interjected.

They stopped, straightening themself attentively.

“As bad as the Winchester boys,” you mumbled to yourself. However, you did have to admit you were pleased to see that Red Hood had warmed up to the other vigilantes… At least to the point of not pulling a gun on them.

“Who?” they chimed in unison.

You rubbed your temples. “Don’t— Don’t worry about it. Look, he was here the other night.”

Babe?

Your thigh began to throb again. 

“What for?” Nightwing asked. 

“The East-End victims.”

The blue vigilante rubbed folded his arms across his chest. “East-End… He never told us he was working that case.”

Babe? Wake up!

“That checks out,” Red Hood chimed in. “You know how B is when someone else gets hurt.”

Nightwing cleared his throat nervously. “I wasn’t there for that one. Was it really that bad?”

“Red Robin nearly had his throat ripped out by a nest of vampires,” you deadpanned. “This case does have some similarities.”

“Oh…”

BABE!

You jolted, eyes popping open. 

The sunset streamed into your bedroom window only to be blocked by Jesse who was hovering over you.

“Jeez, you had me worried. I’ve never known you to sleep like the dead before,” they breathed a sigh of relief.

You’ve been a light sleeper ever since… Ever since what?

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay? Have you been asleep all day?”

You blinked, scanning the room. Those two men were nowhere to be found…

“Yeah… I guess so…”

[shmowder]

I am humbling asking you for nsfw Daniil X reader hcs unfortunately the prickly prick who’ll bury us all has wormed his way into my heart and now I need that bastard carnally secondary question would he eat his partner out…..?

Ps I adore your stuff it’s really good and you capture all the characters ya write about really well! It itches my brain so much! And I can’t express how much I adore your work!!

Not only would Daniil Dankovsky the Bachelor of Medicine eat his partner out, but he probably has an oral fixation to do so.

He'd need some encouragement at first, testing the waters and realising this is much better than merely using his fingers. The man barely shuts up, at least you'd be putting his mouth to a good use in this scenario.

It becomes such a habit for him, gradually getting addicted to your taste as he moves his head between your thighs.

Something about him directly having his lips against your most sensitive part sends an immediate rush through his body, an ego trip with every flick of his tongue that has you pulling harder against his hair.

Getting to taste you directly, lick up the evidence of your arousal, mouth against your hot sensitive parts and keep your legs spread atop his shoulders.

looking you shamelessly in the eyes as he swallows down your cum, lustfull drunk eyes, a flushed face and messy hair. Your wetness around his mouth, dripping down his chin, droplets of your cum staining the red silk of his untied cravat below.

He's absolutely greedy, always attempting to milk just one more orgasm out of you before pulling away. Spending hours eating you out, watching you slowly lose control to the overwhelming pleasure, your words becoming more and more incoherent as you babble and whimper gibberish between the moans, fog veiling your brain as every orgasm melts into the other, until you can barely register anything but the absolute painful pleasure and the wetness trailing down your thighs, drenching the sheets below, dripping down your ankles.

In contast to the absolute mess you are, Daniil looks as if he's truly alive, as if he's choking on the necter of the gods with how hungrily he's swallowing you down. Completely letting go of all the decorum, the gentle manners and etiquettes, giving into the temptation.

How delicious you taste, how this goes against everything he knows about gentle lovemaking. How he can't get enough of your strained voice begging him to please not make you cum again while your hips practically grind your heat against him, rolling with his movement, thighs shaking as overstimulation sets in.

You've opened Pandora's box, there is no undoing this.

Especially with how relaxed his body feels afterwards, how clear his mind is.

Daniil starts seeking you out whenever he's frustrated, giving a brief explanation as he coaxes you into the nearest surface and gets on his knees between your legs.

Offering one polite apology for how sudden this is before his lips kiss upwards your inner thighs, licking just shy of your most sensitive parts, purposely avoiding it to observe you grow more desperate for his attention, slowly dripping as you grind down, dangling the promise of relief just out of reach.

Until you're all pent up and wet, eyes glossy and lips pressed tightly together. Until your fingere weave between his hairsteands and tug.

Tug his head towards where you need attention the most, show him where it hurts so he may help you, isn't it his job after all? Bury his face between your thighs, wrap them tightly around his neck and cut off his air circulation just as you're about to cum, make him gag and choke as he stubbornly tries to take all of you down.

Watch the facade of an elegant academic melt away as he unravels his true primal desires for you to see, as he spirals into madness and addiction, as he grazes his teeth against twitching heat.

Repeat this song and dance as many times as life allows. After every argument, before every make up.

Let him worship between your legs, allow him a taste to sate his hunger with. Let him break you down through pleasure and pleasure alone, bring you to the verge of madness before pulling you back up for air again.

Let him kiss you afterwards, making you taste your own cum in his mouth. Have you curled against his chest as, thighs shaking from overstimulation as he runs a hand down your back.

You've given him too much power, a taste of something forbidden he's bound to ask for more and more.

You might just become the death of him.

-

Thanks for the sweet message <3 It makes me really happy that you think I do these characters justice! I really don't try ah. Hope this one itchied your brain in a good way too. Daniil smut is something this blog desperately needs more of istg

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Villain of the Year" Episode Followup, Part 2

It's like a subtle reminder telling everyone to vote or something! Hmmmmmmm oh yes I do wonderrrrrrr- below the break.

"villains only care about themselves"

they're voting for other villains

So tell me why they can't vote for themselves, then? Did they try that and it fell through so they gave up voting for themselves as a sacrifice?

I mean...if "Flawed Squad" can do it...

And this, folks, is what we call "having moxie". Clearly Athena saw that one King of Queens episode and it lives in her mind rent-free.

There is exactly one joke I can make here and it's an innuendo I'm not even uttering it but Osgood is FUCKING TEMPTING ME.

It would have been fine if the man elaborated, but hmmmm nooooooooo.

...He...he...hay? He makes hay? That makes people itch?

I don't know. I got nuffin'. I've looked at this damn uniform up and down five times and that's the best my brain-fogged mind has got. Either the man picked a dumbass name or Athena popped a weed gummy and thought the name "Mr. H" was hilarious somehow.

"Don't worry, Bob, we'll get you some cream."

*deep inhale* No. I'm not touching this. No. Not a chance in hell.

Did...did she just say "portholes and popcorn"?

The "portholes" part is relevant, but...fucking "popcorn"?

I don't know about you guys...but it seems a little out-of-character for Captain O to be giving up so easily. Seems like she might've stolen some ideas from Arctic Mr. O in that regard.

SEE???? YOU SEE???? THEY C A N VOTE FOR THEMSELVES SO WHY DON'T THEY?!?!?!?!?!

Oh my God, this is so stupidly convoluted that I have to wonder if this really is some jab at American politics and Athena just moved from America to Britain in recent years.

(I'd say British politics is a more accurate jab, but I don't know their state of politics nor do I know if it's as fucked up as America's.)

But...his mom's not part of the Villain Club, so why does she vote? If she were in the Villain Club it'd be 22 total votes because there are 22 members.

Again, way too convoluted and ass-fucking-backwards.

Okay, this transition with the bubbles and the streamers is cute. I like it.

He gave them bubble tea, sure, but will it send them to the astral plane like with Orla when she tried it?

Spoiler alert: it will not because Athena has never seen OddTube Season 2 in her life.

MMMMMDOYOUGEDDIT.

'CAUSE CAPTAIN O...SHE...SHE HAD A SAMMICH...AND THEY HAD BUBBLE TEA AND NOW THEY'RE FLO- WHY ARE YOU NOT LAUGHING. LAUGH GOD DAMN YOU.

And your credits for this episode. Turns out Osip's name really is spelled with one S.

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

Overall...raising the bar by a few inches was a mistake. It really should have been a few inches lower, not higher. Goopy Gus somehow being there as a mention -- and a very gratuitous one, mind you -- did not save this episode by a long shot. For an election episode, it was far too convoluted and I've watched election episodes of this franchise with simpler terms and conditions, like "Captain Fun".

Though really...given how Athena hasn't written any kids stuff before, I can't say I'm surprised at this point. Lack of kids content in the resume is pretty much a sign the episode's dead in the water before it's even watched, for me anyway.

Oy...well, anyway. Next up is "Planes, Trains and Oddmobiles". I don't know how much better this one will be, but I'll be bracing myself either way.

Seren out!

[kemendin]

🖊️ for khel, either - i‘m intrigued by that last post about him and would love to hear more about maybe his relation to the light side, or smth you love about one of your more minor oc‘s? :)

-justiceforc3po

This may end up a bit meandering, I'm trying to parse it as I write it haha.

So firstly - Khel is not particularly Force-sensitive, in comparison to most of his fellow Sith. Add to this his years of pushing back and setting aside his emotions, mostly as a defence mechanism - it's harder to exploit someone when you can't read what they're thinking or feeling. Upon arrival at the Sith Academy, he learned very quickly that the dark side was not for him - he had no desire to step on the bodies of other acolytes in order to pass his trials, and he struggled with channelling power through his emotions. It was more his lightsaber skills and, truthfully, his wits, that allowed him to survive Korriban.

I haven't gone incredibly deep with all the various philosophical angles and views people can assign to the Force and its respective sides, my brain's just not up to it haha. That said, I had a bit I wrote in a fic that's actually Scourge POV, but I think it's applicable here as well:

Where the dark side is roiling, many-layered, deep with countless warring wills - the light is singular, the light is one.

I think Khel equates light vs dark to the notion of order vs chaos, and he is very much on the side of order. And that's where it melds so well with his loyalty to the Empire, a society that is also heavily focused on structure, on order. He doesn't see his controlled and merciful tendencies as weaknesses, but genuine strengths. After all, isn't sparing someone's life and convincing them to join his side more beneficial to the Empire than a brief show of brutal power in killing them? A corpse isn't much of an asset except if it's used as fertiliser.

That said, the light is certainly not an easy path as a Sith, when he's so often surrounded by the dark:

It wasn’t something he went out of his way to emphasise, given Sith and their traditions, and his prominent place among them. And there had been challenges at the start, from those who questioned how he could truly be Sith, without the raw power and passion usually displayed by his kind. But he’d had a few tastes of the dark side, and decided it didn’t suit him; and so he’d gone the way of the light and found it served him well. 

This meant, however, that visits to prominent Imperial worlds such as Korriban and the capital were always a tad on the unsettling side. It was a curious sensation - a slight itch across his neck, a slight weight within his lungs, a feeling of fog creeping across his skin like an insect in search of a vein. The continuous sense of being watched, and measured, and judged. Had his connection with the Force been stronger, Khel theorised, the overall effect would have been much more unnerving. As it was, he’d gotten quite used to it over the years.

All in all, it's probably for the best that he's not a raw well of Force-drawn power - his alignment is much less noticeable that way.

Also, fun tidbit! I picture his presence in the Force as a calm, shallow pool of sun-dappled water - you can reach into it, trying to catch something of who he is, but mostly all you'll find is water and more water and very little of substance, because Khel is so skilled at shifting with the situation at hand and concealing his inner self.

[saneabandoned]

Rating: Mature

Category: F/M

Fandoms: My Chemical Romance I Brought You My Bullets You Brought Me Your Love - My Chemical Romance (Album) Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge - My Chemical Romance (Album) Black Parade - My Chemical Romance (Album) Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album) Original Work

Relationship: Gerard Way/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Gerard Way Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Based on a My Chemical Romance Song I Wrote This While Listening to My Chemical Romance's Music

Language: English

Summertime

Chapter 3

Bodies filled with acid, chemically disintegrating, a decaying pile, wed by death. Lungs inhaling nuclear air, scorching with hopelessness. Specks of sand floating, hiding the horizon, blurring out every vision, every chance of escape. Consumed by this endless desert, gravity pulling you back into hiding, the only way there ever is. The sunrise is but a burning fog, one that wants to make you hurt, the black demonic sun holding your heart--

Raven was staring at the wall while the words were swirling in her aching brain. Every night for as long as she could remember she had been dreaming the same dream, having the same nightmare. No matter what she did, what she took, how many hours she stood awake, how tired she was, or what she was thinking about, it always returned. The vision of an abandoned world, a desert filled with nothing. It wasn’t something she had seen or read about somewhere, but at the same time it looked so real it always made her wake up shaking and sweating through the bed covers. The horrifying picture could never leave her mind for too long, it was always lingering, itching her as if to say it was coming for her.

That is simply not possible, Raven thought while she was making an effort to put on her work clothes. The sun still hadn’t risen but she didn’t want to spend one second in that bed that never provided her with any comfort whatsoever.

While she was getting ready, her mind inevitably turned to the gig last night. Raven was embarrassed of the way she had left without saying a word to anyone, especially Gerard, who had shown her nothing but friendliness and was surprisingly kind to her, even though she wasn’t, not really. Vivid replays of his singing echoed in her head, but she tried to silence them. She probably wouldn’t see him again, not after yesterday.

But how could she ever explain to him what she felt? She wondered, now inhaling the toxic Jersey air, the fog filling her lungs, reminding her of her dream. With a tremble, she tried focusing on her feet and where she was heading, but she couldn’t get the lyrics out of her head.

But does anyone notice

There’s a corpse in this bed?

She had dreamt about them too. Before she had even met Gerard, she had heard them in her mind, as clearly as she did last night, but she had no idea what they meant. Maybe it was a coincidence, one of these things that happen and turn out to be meaningless. She couldn’t help but to run away from him – what if he somehow finds out? What if he thinks she is a creepy stalker, lurking around his apartment, knowing his song lyrics?

Raven wasn’t sure she could face that, not with her comic deadline vastly approaching and her (new) sketchbook completely empty. Groaning, she finally reached the café and with the perspective of another dull day awaiting her, opened the door and entered the well-known ambience. She flicked the lights on and let their slight buzzing fill the silence, humming to herself as she started loading and preparing the coffee machines for the numerous orders that lay ahead of them. Once that was done, Raven took a deep breath and sat at a table near the counter, taking out her sketchbook.

This is hopeless.

She frowned. Her mind just couldn’t focus, it was skipping as the words from her dream kept repeating themselves in her head, she couldn’t shake them off.

Her pencil started mindlessly scribbling on the paper, her eyes unseeingly following the outlines of something she had never thought of drawing, at least not for the comics people. It looked like she was doing it now anyway.

Dead flies, black clouds, piles of bodies, pools of blood mixed with petrol. A horizon so distant it seems almost unreachable. A shadow figure looking towards it, its back turned to the sun, their face hidden behind a mask. A hand holding a---

”If you draw a gun, it would look pretty epic,” a loud voice suddenly took Raven out of her trance. She recognized it and slowly looked up.

Fuck.

Gerard raised his eyebrow. ”Wasn’t kidding.”

”Yeah, sure. How did you get in? It’s not open yet.”

He shrugged.

”Oh. I thought you opened at nine.”

Raven looked at the clock.

Five past nine.

Motherfucker.

She hastily collected her stuff and threw them in her bag before tossing it under the counter and throwing the work apron over her clothes. Thankfully, there were no other clients, except Gerard.

Raven turned her back to him, pretending she was fixing something in one of the cupboards, but really she was shutting her eyes and praying he would go away. Praying he would be so offended that he would just decide it wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it.

Probably true anyway.

”So? Can I order or...?”

Still there.

Taking a breath, she finally faced him; his hazel eyes staring directly into hers, sending shivers down her spine. She forced a stare right back; he looked tired, messy hair and all. His skin looked gray and his features shadowy, as if he was a pale comic copy, one that the ink had run out for.

“Sure! What can I get you?"

Throughout the whole day Gerard stayed there, at his little table, surrounded by a growing pile of cups of black coffee. He was writing something down in a notebook, earphones in, and as far as Raven could tell, he was completely lost in his work. She caught him looking up just a few times – once when a woman with a screaming baby came in and disturbed the quietness; once when someone almost knocked over his table and once to look at her, but she pretended to be busy with a customer, smiling unnecessarily big and nodding way too enthusiastically. It earned her a good tip, though, but she thought she might have caught Gerard smiling.

Otherwise, he didn’t move. The whole day.

Finally, now, it was closing time. Raven started cleaning way too meticulously the surfaces and very slowly arranging the dishes. If it took her long enough maybe he would—

“I waited the whole day, I can wait a little longer, you know.”

She sighed and put down her apron, then went straight to his table.

He looked up from his notebook which seemed to be filled with lyrics (Or poems. Doodles too maybe. Good ones. Definitely good ones.) and met her eyes.

“Why are you here?”

He shrugged, “I figured I’d give you something, seeing how you fled yesterday. Didn’t think I was that scary.” He sounded a little hurt.

Raven shook her head.

“You’re not. I actually… really liked your band,” she confessed, nervously playing with her fingers, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

“You did?”

He looked surprised; his eyes were as big as tennis balls now.

“Of course. You were great. And I would’ve never heard you if you haven’t invited me, so thanks for that,” she smiled hesitantly,

“Sorry about running away. There was something… I don’t know, I wasn’t feeling very well.”

There was no way she was going to explain how she felt. He wouldn’t understand.

He nodded carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I thought maybe you just wanted to… you know, be left alone. Which makes it weird that I came here today, now that I think about it.” His face turned into a grimace.

She chuckled, “It’s alright. I really thought I had offended you and you’ve come for explanation.”

He shook his head, his lips now forming a crooked smile.

“Nah. You’re good. Just wanted to give this to you.” He said and placed a small envelope in front of her. She reached out to open it, but he grabbed her hand.

“When you go home.” He mumbled and quickly let go of her.

His hands were cold, despite him having spent the whole day in the warm café. Raven nodded, feeling a slight warmth creep up her face. That was new.

“What is it?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He stood up and started putting his stuff away. Raven could tell he was purposefully avoiding any eye contact.

“It’s… just a few of our songs. You didn’t stay until the end so I couldn’t get your opinion and I thought you might want to hear them all by yourself. It’s okay if you don’t though, don’t worry.”

She laughed, something that hasn’t happened in a long time. Her chest untightened.

“Of course I will. And I’ll tell you what I think when you come next time," she carefully picked up the package and put it in her jacket pocket.

When.

He caught it too.

“Cool!” his eyes lit up, “well, then… see you, I guess. And good luck with your comic.”

Raven nodded and waved as he opened the door, and the smell of rainy Jersey filled the room. She turned around but suddenly hesitated and looked back, shouting just a second before the door closed,

“I’ll think about the gun!”

The way home was somehow lighter tonight. Even though it was raining again, the prospect of doing something slightly different from her usual evening routine was cheering Raven up. She just couldn’t shake off the feeling of those yellow eyes on hers, the feeling of being transparent, but not invisible anymore. All her life she had been alone, people had just looked over her but never really cared enough to look closer. She had never had someone to talk to, let alone a friend. The word itself tasted weird on her tongue, as if it was forbidden and secret, something that wasn’t meant for her to taste, but she somehow got her hands on and was now devouring its deadly sweetness. Honey dripping slowly, licking sugar crumbs – that’s how friend tasted, how it smelled, a thick and luscious salve for her starved soul.

Impatiently, palms sweating, she put the key in the lock (dropping it once and cursing loudly) and almost ran inside, turning on her CD player while kicking off her shoes. Forgetting to take off her wet jacket, she softly put the small black disc into the machine and pressed play, waiting for the music to fill her tiny apartment with its sound, water dripping from her clothes on the floor.

The night found her uncontrollably shaking and crying, crying heavy hot tears that she’d never cried before. Crying herself to a dreamless sleep for the first time for as long as she could remember. She was ever longing for that feeling and she finally felt it, relief washing over her in waves, making her knees weak and her head spin; her mouth dried as her eyes shut themselves hard, covering the world in darkness.

Hope.

There was hope.

He knows me.

Find this on:

Quotev

AO3

[hypnolurker]

Batgirl Ensnared, Part 2

Still unsure what to think about the green stalk poking out boldly from her right ear, Barbara carefully swept her hair to the side until her flowing auburn curls drowned out the delicate green appendage and sighed deeply.

“Pull yourself together Barbs, its nothing. A hallucination or I’m still dreaming or whatever…but I won’t let it get to me. I’ll just act normally until I forget all about this weird trick my sleep deprived mind is playing.” she assured herself as she went about her day as usual getting ready for work at the library.

Things went well, for a while. Barbara was able to relax and push the strange plant out of her mind (figuratively, of course in reality it was only burrowing deeper unbeknownst to her) and do her regular work that morning. It was only in the afternoon, as the day grew long and Barbara’s focus dwindled, that the feeling of uneasiness returned. There was a mild discomfort in her right ear, sort of like an itch. Yet Barbara forced herself not to touch the area. She refused to face the reality that the tendril softly squirming in her ear was no hallucination. Even as her head grew foggy and she began placing books on shelves in the wrong order and losing track of what she was reading, she did her best to maintain her ignorance.

Then the whispering returned. At first too quiet to make out, so the poor distressed librarian ignored it. Steadily it grew louder and firmer, until Barbara could make out what it was saying. In a monotone voice it was repeating the same few words over and over…

“Weak…Submissive…Obey…Mistress…Blank…Dull…Succumb…”

The words bounced around her head as she tried to focus, constantly distracting her until, shortly before the library was due to close, a frustrated Barbara muttered angrily at the droning voice “shut up! Shut up!”

She glanced around awkwardly, realising she had said that out loud and was relieved to see there was no one nearby to witness what anyone would have naturally interpreted as her acting crazy. She redoubled her efforts to ignore the incessant voice and hurried to close the library.

After a tiring day at work, Barbara needed a distraction from the ongoing auditory assault. She found her batsuit, still torn and strewn across the floor and scolded herself for being such a slob last night. The sullied suit was still in its sorry state and had a telling odour. She filled a tub with warm water and added some liquid detergent, then softly rubbed at the stains for a while before throwing the soggy suit in the washer. “I bet Batman’s suit doesn’t tear like this. Its probably made of something military grade rather than this cheap spandex…damn I need an upgrade!” Barbara complained as she washed the suit before setting it out to dry.

Her suit wouldn’t dry until the following morning and she was unable to go on her typically night-time caped-crusades. With nothing left to distract her, Barbara felt the fog clouding her head once more. That voice…Ivy’s voice…was still whispering those same words in her head.

“Weak…” it whispered, as Barbara recalled the sensation of Ivy’s vines coiling around her wrists and  quelling her struggles as she was pinned hopelessly in place.

“Submissive…” Barbara remembered the heat she felt as Ivy fingered her. The pleasure…the need…need for those skilled fingers to slide over her throbbing clit one more time.

“Obey…” Barbara heard Ivy’s soft, feminine voice crawling inside her brain, squashing her own thoughts as it wormed it way inside her head.

She was already dazed and drooling as her hands slid down her body and began rubbing her tender crotch eagerly. Mindlessly Barbara played with her needy pussy as she continued to sink deeper into the voice’s sinister trap.

“Mistress…” memories of Ivy’s plump green lips, her piercing emerald eyes, her enticing curves…they flashed into Barbara’s mind, only adding fuel to the fire growing between her legs.

“Blank…” her head clouded over even more, the room was spinning as her hips wriggled and her crotch ached.

“Dull…” her eyes glazed over and her breathing became more unsteady as her lips quivered and her pussy twitched.

“Succumb…” eyes rolled back in her head as she pressed down on her vulnerable clit and cried out in ecstasy. An intense orgasm swept over her and her body quaked and squirmed excitedly.

This process repeated the rest of the night. Poor Barbara had no idea what was happening. She didn’t understand that she was slowly being reprogrammed. Didn’t realize that the tendril in her ear was steadily tightening its grip around her mind. All she could understand was that the words kept repeating and she kept listening. Getting duller and weaker and succumbing to orgasm after orgasm. Would it ever end?

She awoke the next morning, still wearing yesterday’s outfit except now soaked in sweat and with an unmistakable stain on her crotch.

“Fuck! What is wrong with me? What did I even do last night?” she yelled as she quickly pulled off her clothes and dashed to the shower.

It didn’t take long to notice that the tendril sticking out of her ear had grown. It was not only thicker than before but also quite a bit longer, as it was able to reach her neck and had begun to coil around slightly. Barbara gasped and tugged the creepy green tentacle away from her throat but as soon as she let go it simply began to partially wrap itself around once more. Stunned, the desperate Barbara racked her mind for a solution. She found a knife and pressed the shard blade into the tendril to cut it.

“Aaaaaaghhh!” she screamed as the most debilitating headache she had ever experienced struck her so suddenly that she instantly dropped the blade and fell to her knees in tears.

After sobbing for a while on the floor while the pain subsided she called in sick to work as she was starting to understand just how much trouble she was in. Uncertain of what to do and still trembling, she felt her throat was very parched for some reason. She rushed to get a glass of water.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

Then another glass…

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

And another…

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

Her peculiar thirst seemingly quenched, Barbara’s eyes widened as she felt the tendril begin to pulsate and wriggle energetically. She gasped as it slowly grew right before her eyes and twisted further around her neck. That familiar fog returned as she weakly grasped at the tendril but failed to stop it from coiling fully around her neck. As she continued prying it she felt a tight squeeze and started gasping for air. Terrified, she surrendered as her arms flopped to her side and the tendril eased its grip on her throat somewhat, allowing her to breath again.

The voice started repeating its sinister mantras again and Barbara sobbed and thrashed in anger. She felt deep down that she was running out of time. The voice was louder now, not a whisper at all. It was louder than her own thoughts even. The fog was clouding over her mind still and she knew she wouldn’t last long at this rate. If she started to lose herself like last night…there might be no waking up this time. At least, not as Barbara Gordon.

Yet her struggle was utterly futile. Her hands fumbled and her she crawled around desperately as the tendril gave a controlling squeeze of her neck and she collapsed in defeat. Soon her pussy was tingling again and before long that tingling turned into dripping and aching and begging to be touched. As the tendril continued growing it snaked its way back up from her throat and softly tickled at her lips as Barbara fought to cling to her sanity, fists clenched as she willed them to stay away from her treacherous drooling slit.

The tendril slipped past her lips and squirmed its way deeper and deeper down her throat as Barbara’s hands shook and she humped the air in heat. As Ivy’s voice invaded her thoughts she began to unwillingly imagine herself at Ivy’s feet. Kissing them subserviently as she begged to serve her. Begged for her beautiful mistress to order her, use her…begged to be her pathetic, brainless little slave. Barbara winced and wished she could stop the invading thoughts, but more and more her resistance was fading. Despite herself she felt her pussy pulse and throb at the idea. Soon the tendril around her neck was rhythmically squeezing her neck in time with her own throbbing. The strange sync between her own body and the evil plant choking her only made things worse as she moaned loudly and her hands finally began urgently fondling her body.

Barbara was fading. The words were repeating faster and faster and the tendril in her throat pulsated  like an ejaculating cock as she felt s slimy substance being steadily pumped down her throat every time the tightness around her neck eased up. The combination of choking and swallowing and throbbing and humping was impossible to resist. Barbara could only swallow helplessly and let her arousal take over as the idea of being Ivy’s weak, brainless, slick little slave became her greatest desire and the most incredible orgasm built inside her. Before she knew what hit her, she was spasming and screaming around the tendril as her mind washed away and Ivy’s voice yelling “Succumb! Succumb! Succumb!” was all that she heard before she completely blacked out.

Barbara Gordon never woke up. Batslave opened her eyes several hours later. The tendril had pulled itself out of her mouth and wrapped around her left ear. It had also grown a series of vibrant red flowers along it which complemented her hair nicely. Batslave approached the mirror and admired herself. Her skin had taken on a faint greenish hue and patterns resembling dark green eyeshadow formed around her eyes and her lips had turned a similar shade of green, matching her green eyes. Her breasts also looked a little swollen and her nipples were permanently stiff and tender.

Batslave groaned in pleasure and her fingers traced her nipples slowly as she heard Ivy’s voice in her head. However, this was nothing like before. Not only was the voice much clearer now, but she also understood that this was really her gorgeous mistress. Not some imitation designed to reprogram her or pre-recording, but her mistress talking directly to her. The idea that her mistress had such a hotline to her brain, that she could control her from anywhere at anytime so effortlessly made Batslave’s pathetic slit clench and dribble as a mini-orgasm washed over her.

“I know you can hear me slave. Now its time for you to serve your mistress. You’re going to break me out of this filthy prison they call Arkham Asylum right away, oh and I want you to do it in your little costume.” Mistress ordered.

Batslave complied eagerly, slipping into her suit seductively. Her crotch was still completely torn leaving her puffy pink pussy and swollen clit on full display, not to mention her hard nipples poking through the material around the chest making her look more like a pornographic parody of Batgirl than the real thing. Very fitting for a brainless slave, she mused as she gave her sloppy hole a quick rub before heading out for Arkham Asylum where her new Mistress, and her new life, awaited.

To be continued?

it wasn’t continued.

[polillastoryarchive]

It felt like an hour had gone by, but Isi couldn't be sure. She'd drifted in and out of consciousness many times. Too many to count. An old woman that Isi had only seen once before entered the small room and Rory's shoulders visibly relaxed at once.

She gave Isidora a cup of some sort, then left without a word. Desperate for water, or any other liquid that could maybe stop her mouth from watering so much, Isi drank it all in one go, Rory looking at her with wide eyes, hope shining in them.

And for a few minutes, her body cooled down.

But then, without warning, her head started spinning. She could barely hold the liquid down, her stomach twisting and turning. Rory took a step forward:

"What is it?" she asked.

"I... I feel like something is trying to blow me up from the inside..."

Swearing, Rory barely caught Isi in time as her body became completely limp. Lowered her head down onto the pillow. Started whispering conforting words, voice a tether to the real world as everything started to blur for Isidora.

"Help me" Isi heard herself beg.

Rory's breath caught in her throat and she put a warm hand on her shoulder, wincing at how cold her body had become in the span of a minute only.

"I'm trying baby, I promise. I'll have Lily make another batch, a different one, taking into account your mixed DNA..."

Isi's brain settled a bit at that. She 𝘸𝘢𝘴 trying. And the mention of her mer half reminded her of who she'd been out looking for. Through the fog, the fuzziness that ruled over everything, she managed to say her sister's name out loud.

Rory moved her hand to Isidora's cheek and said: "I found her."

Hearing that was enough to settle her concerns. She closed her eyes, even though she probably should have asked where Rory had found Idrina, if she was okay, and where she was now. Isi surrendered to the black mist taking over her thoughts.

She must have slept for hours because when she woke up again, she didn't feel cold anymore. She was warm again. Too warm... She opened her eyes, looking for Rory, only to find a white wolf watching over her.

"Hey." She wanted to ask who it was, but that word alone had already been so painful.

Slowly but surely, she sat on the edge of the bed. Breathed in and out, gave a couple of seconds for the pain to receede. The white werewolf whined, pushing off the wall to get closer. And as Isi got to her feet, Rory walked into the room.

"Hi beautiful, how are you feeling?"

Unable to give an answer, Isi simply bared her foaming teeth.

"Wow! Okay, maybe getting out of bed isn't a great idea then!" Rory said, running to support her. But Isi shook her head. She had to get to the fresh air. She was too warm down here, stuck in this room. She needed 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

After only a few steps out of the small bedroom, she stumbled.

"Right, let's sit." Rory ordered. But that wasn't what she'd wanted... Air was what she needed, and there still wasn't enough here. As they moved towards the couch, Isi cleared her throat.

Finally, she managed a couple words strung together:

"Outside, please? And where... my sister..."

Rory sighed, but she seemed to have been expecting it. She groaned "That would imply going outside and it's way too cold right now. The sun's barely out yet."

Isi shook her head, the world spinning.

"Be fine, I don't... get... cold." Isidora answered. Rory hoisted her up in her arms, apparently not willing to pick a fight.

"Idrina's been asking about you as well." She admitted.

Going back up the stairs seemed easier, then they were outside. It was mild, the snow making everything soft.

She breathed the fresh air in, her skin cooling down and the constant itch that she'd been feeling since waking up calming down too.

"Thanks." Isi breathed, Rory nodding in response, before slowly heading towards a familiar path, leading to her and Lou's house.

When they got there, Rory shot her a look, as if to assess how she was. Feeling better, her fever and nausea having receded, her voice also a bit more sure now, Isi confirmed: "You can put me down."

Then the door opened, heads immediately turning towards them.

Isidora searched the faces, looking for her sister. Looked to Rory again, her question clear on her face. Where was Idrina? But before any other words were uttered, the older woman was handing her a drink again.

"It can wait a minute, she wants to see-"

"It's already been too long Rory."

The woman had cut her off with a defiant look. Retreating, the alpha lowered her head, letting Isidora take the cup. Everyone's attention on her, she felt like she better get this out of the way and downed the mixture, thicker than last time but the taste similar. 

And passed out again.

[weaper-reaper]

Eventuality Pt.2

1, 3+4, 5, 6

NEW CHAPTER JUST DROPPED!! FT. Jealous Konig (if you squint) so you’re welcome. As always cross-posted on Ao3 @WeaperReaper, check that out for quicker updates.

CW: Same as before in Part 1. Just more plot here really. No NSFW

Hot water never felt so good. My muscles eased as it glided over my shoulders and down my back, the steam from the shower drifted up and over the flimsy curtain that separated the tiny tiled space from the rest of the bathroom. It had been my plan to clean off the sweat and grime from yesterday the moment I got into my room last night, however the moment my head hit the pillow on the cot I was out.

It was a much needed rest, and though I really only got a handful of hours sleep, I wasn’t going to start complaining. The room I had been set up in was nice. Assumedly slightly larger than the others, with being at the very end of the hallway. There was a steel desk welded to the wall where another bunk would have sat normally, and I’m sure it made for a good place to study. Although with how lacking this particular home base was with any medical professionals- I doubt I’d be doing more studying then I would actual practice.

I unloaded only the basics this morning, never really making a habit of unpacking or filling out a space for too long. I quickly towel dried and dressed myself in the uniform I laid on the neatly made bed. Classical tactical pants and thick mock neck combo. My medic badge from my jacket flashed brightly against the rest of the dark colors, and I ran a hand through my hair to push it from my face as it dried.

The tablet I also took out earlier dinged from it’s place on the desk, I threw my boots on before I made my way over, sitting on the creaky metal chair. It scraped against the stone floor as I scooted it closer.

A new message popped up in my dashboard. It was an email confirmation for the transferring of my records from my old Sergeant to Captain Price, and a note that I’d be working solely under his jurisdiction. When I tapped on his icon however, nothing but an error message showed up. It was almost as if he wasn’t in the system. I went to the search bar and typed in Johnny, but no one stationed this far east came up.

I tried ‘Soap’. Nothing.

My fingers itched over the keys.

‘Konig’ I typed, unsure at first how to even spell it. Yet again, nothing. A KORTAC tag popped up for a moment, but being another national division I didn’t have clearance for any of that information.

I sighed, how was I meant to treat them if I didn’t know anything about them? If there were no files on anyone I’d met so far. I racked my brain to try to think of any other names I might have heard yesterday but nothing else came to mind. I glanced at the clock- 04:03.

“Well, since I’m up already..” I mumbled out loud to myself and turned to strap my pack on, shoving the tablet inside the bigger pocket. Maybe Soap would have more information, I could ask him to schedule a briefing with Captain Price and I. Something I was surprised I’d heard nothing about since landing, surely if they requested someone they’d at least fill them in.

Pulling my door shut and entering the hall, I was even more surprised to see it packed and bustling with early morning energy. Men had their doors open and some were half dressed- yelling across the hall at someone else. I did my best to keep my eyes mostly to the ground, and thankfully, was able to leave the testosterone fueled building without bumping in to anyone.

That wasn’t however- the case as I swung the double doors open to the outside. I immediately ran into the side of another soldier, dressed in all black and a hoodie that’s seen better days. He had a balaclava on also, the warmth from his breath fogged up into the air as he huffed from my intrusion. His snapped to mine and my breath hitched in my throat- if looks could kill.

His mask had been altered, a white skull painted onto the front made him even more intimidating.

Suddenly I forgot how words worked.

“Mack!” Someone shouted and I was almost too afraid to drag my eyes away from the behemoth in front of me.

“Mack!” The voice said again and a large hand cupped my shoulder, “Oi lass- I thought you wouldn’t join us.”

“Us?” I was able to meakly force out, my gaze finally settling over Soap, dressed in track pants and an almost matching hoodie. Must have been military issued.

His big dorky smile found it’s way up onto his cut face again. “Aye, I see you’ve met ghost.” He turned the both of us back to the brick wall of a man from before and punched at his shoulder lightly.

“C’mon now, don’t scare away the newbies.” Soap teased and I felt incredibly small between them, eyes wide in the relative darkness.

This ‘Ghost’ just gawffed in response to him, turning away slightly to avoid either of our faces.

Soap turned back to me, “You’re not runnin in that are ye?” He asked, motioning to my boots and tactical pants- filled to the brim with gaze, electrical tape, and whatever other medical supplies I could fit. I shook my head at him.

“Uh no,” I spoke, finding my voice once again. It was slightly scratchier from the morning cold. “I was hoping to do some inventory in the infirmary, y’know get stock of everything or whatever.”

He nodded but still let out a laugh. “Not here a full 24 hours yet and ye ‘already thinking too much. I know what you need.” He handed me a bottle that he pulled out of nowhere, emptied of its original water, and re-filled with some chunky looking slush.

I scoffed, the man to my right suddenly forgotten in the background. “There’s no way I’m drinking that.” I was 100% sure whatever was in that was in no shape healthy.

“Suit yer’self.” He said and took a swig of the concoction, letting out a forced sounding ‘Ahhh’ after his swallow. I let a laugh escape me and he eyed me from the side, turning to face ghost.

“Well if you don’t want to join us then maybe you’ll play score keeper. Here.” He handed me a small black notebook, opened to a page scribbled with tally marks. One side labeled ‘SOAP’ and the other ‘GHOST’ with a poorly drawn skull next to it.

“First to make a lap around the entire base, and touch that center pole there,” He pointed to a floodlight that sat in the middle of the courtyard between both buildings. “Wins.” He turned to Ghost who was already stretching one leg out behind him- getting into a sprint position.

“GO!” He shouted.

They both took off in a full sprint and veered right some, ghost reached out to give soap a push that made him stumbled slightly, giving ghost the lead as they wrapped around a building out of sight. Yells and other Scottish noises could be heard echoing through space and bouncing off walls. I let a smile fall on my face as I looked back down at the notebook.

Not wanting to peer too much into his privacy I thumbed over the random doodles and put a pen in the crack of the page, saving my place as I closed the book in my hand.

Some other men took after them as well, and that’s when I noticed the small crowd from inside slowly made their way out onto the yard. Doing random warmups and exercises, but mainly trying to keep up with the race I’m sure.

It was cute.

And it probably boosted morale too, which was always a good thing. My hopes for this place slowly began to rise as I looked around some more. I shifted from my spot slightly before I caught something in the back corner of my eye. A familiar figure stood hunched slightly, resting against the corner of the main building, he had his eyes at his hands, a small book similar to Soaps, and was scribbling something down.

He glanced up as I approached him, myself not even half-aware that I was until we made eye contact. He snapped his book closed and stood up straighter- easing his hand that held the book behind him. My eyes followed the movement.

“Were you drawing?” I asked, where I found the courage to randomly strike up conversation I’ve no idea.

His fingers thumbed the crease of his book and as he hesitated answering. Crap, was I pushing too much?

“Yes.” He spoke out after another moment.

“Cool.” I muttered, feeling like a child at the playground, feeblishly attempting to make friends. I didn’t meet his eyes again, but instead settled at looking at the mask he wore. I hadn’t noticed it yesterday, but there were bleach stains just under the holes that kind of represented tears.

What was everyone’s deal with wearing scary masks?

“How’s your cut doing?” I glanced up at him and his eyes were already on mine, they widened slightly when I spoke- like I had caught him off guard. I tried to contort my face into a pleasant look.

He stood unblinkingly at me for a moment. Then his eyes shifted up behind me and hardened ever so slightly. Stomps grew loud and rapidly approached us. I turned to see as Soap and Ghost made their way across the courtyard in full sprint. Soap moved with an ease and swiftness that I was instantly jealous of. Ghost was just a hair behind him, arm and fingers outstretched. He grabbed onto Soap by the back of his hoodie and pulled just hard enough to give him forward momentum to touch the base of the lamp just before Soap could.

The Scott swung around as they came to a stop and immediately turned to me.

“Did you see that!” His eyes were wide and he looked astonished.

Ghost joined him at his side and they slowly made their way towards where I stood with Konig.

“Bile yer hide!” He shouted followed by some more Scottish noises and pushed at Ghost in a friendly but competitive way. “You cheated.”

“You never set any rules, Jonny.” Ghost’s voice was gravely and he was slightly out of breath. Steam rose off the both of them in a comical way as they both huffed. I handed soap back his notebook when they got within arms distance.

“And you, lass? You saw what he did right?” Soap pleaded in a thick accent and looked almost childlike with big puppy eyes. I raised my hands up in defeat.

“Unfortunately I was talking to Konig here, so I didn’t see much.” I held in a laugh as he responded with another Scottish phrase that probably didn't translate over too pretty.

His eyes rose to the man behind me, and I could feel his larger frame against my back. His body heat wrapped itself around me and I had to stop the shiver that ran up my spine. Something in Soaps demeanor seemed to change slightly as the two of them made eye contact with the other, and he turned to tap Ghost out, their feud dead now. He signaled that they should go inside with a tip of his head. I watch slightly confused as the two of them turned and made their way back to the barracks- soap mingling a little with the others on his way past.

“Oh wait-“ I almost shouted, but the two of them were already halfway across the area, their larger bodies taking two of my strides in one. My hand hung in the air awkwardly. Damnit, I meant to ask him about Price.

I sighed and Konig cleared his throat behind me, reminding me of his presence. I turned to face him and I hadn’t realized how close we were standing together until I had to crane my head back in order to find his eyes. Which were already on mine, naturally.

I let in a sharp inhale, the cold and crisp air bit at the inside of my throat. God it gets cold here at night. The sky was brighter now then when I first came out though, and eventually the sun would rise and heat up the dunes again. Something I wasn’t particularly looking forward to, so I tried to enjoy the cool air while I could.

Konig cleared his throat again awkwardly and I realized I was staring at him, heat quickly warmed up my face and I moved my line of sight back down to the center of his chest.

“You are close with him?” He asked, a little too seriously to just be a curious question. I took a step back so I didn’t have to bend my neck so much when I looked up at him.

“Who, Soap?”

He nodded, the fabric of the mask shook under his movement.

“Oh no,” I corrected. “I arrived yesterday, that’s the first time I met him. Or well, any of you really.” I looked around, most of the men had started to fill into the main building now. Some came out to sit on the benches to eat their breakfast. Others started training in groups or faux fighting in pairs out in the courtyard.

“It is easy for you to talk, to him.” He said matter-of-factly.

I shook my head and corrected him again, “Not really, I’m not the best for conversation really.” I chuckled. I let out a little ‘hmm’ of conviction when he didn’t respond and gestured over to the entrance doors.

“So shall we take a look at you then?” I asked, he nodded and followed behind me to the room we were in before. The doors squeaked shut after us and I could feel everyone’s eyes on the pair of us, Konig followed so close at my back that I could feel the shift of his gear as he walked. Though I suppose being as tall as he was he drew eyes from everywhere anyway, I did my best to brush it off.

We made out way into the infirmary relatively smoothly after clearing through the cafeteria and other crowded rooms, and settled more comfortably in this room. Just the two of us.

My face heated up again at that thought.

Konig hovered by the door as I went to the desk in the back to unload. Tossing my bag up onto the counter I unzipped it and pulled out various items, trying to distract myself by taking account of what I had brought with me.

I glanced back at him, then in the far corner of the room where there hung a single curtain from the slide on the ceiling, a lonely cot sat behind it. I pointed over to it with my finger, “You don’t have to lock the door again, just have a seat over there I’ll be over in a second.”

I didn’t watch him, but I could hear as he crossed the room in less than three long strides. There was something slightly comforting about how quickly he could move. If I ever needed it, I knew who I’d use as a bodyguard. The bed creaked under his weight as he sat, and I took the chance to glance at him from the corner of my eye. He pulled the curtain closed just enough to block him from view of the door, and tucked the bottom of his mask up into his helmet so that only his lower jaw and neck were exposed. I found myself missing the sight of his lips.

I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts and his eyes drew back to mine to follow every movement I made.

The room was silent as I pulled my tablet out, opening an empty file and labeling it ‘Konig’.

“Since you’re here do you mind if we do a physical? I mean I don’t really know what equipment is here, so you’ll have to bear with me for a bit.” I hovered a pen over the screen and turned to face him slightly, his eyes traced down my body and settled on where my hip rested against the edge of the desk.

He nodded slowly and clasped his hands together in front of him, falling into a gentle slouch. His figure was so tall and built that he was probably used to constantly trying to make himself appear smaller and less intimidating. I appreciated the gesture.

“Good.” I mumbled and his eyes snapped back up to my face. I pulled out another alcohol wipe and approached his side. “Tip your chin up to me please, I’ll change these bandages.”

He did what I asked without resistance, and as my hands cupped his face he was less stiff then he was yesterday. I let a gentle smile find my face, glad I’m capable of creating a soothing environment. I slowly peeled off the old tape and gauze against his body and snapped on some gloves before reapplying new ones. The cut looked significantly better today.

“Y’know I don’t think it’ll even scar, Konig.”

“König.” He corrected softly, his German made it easier for him to pronounce then I could.

“Koo-nick.” I tried again, snipping off small squares of excess tape from his face.

The mask shifted above him as he huffed out through his nose in a little laugh. I thought I could see the faintest tip at the corner of his lips, I wished I could pull up the dark fabric to watch him smile- but I wouldn’t push his boundaries like that. Especially not when it seemed he just started to ease up with me.

“Close,” his voice was soft as he spoke to me, and the little praise sent butterflies straight to my stomach. I removed my hands from his skin and cast my eyes anywhere but his, settling on the tablet I brought over. “König.” He said again. “Do you know any German?” He asked.

I hummed a ‘no’ and sat myself on the little black stool, rolling back over to him, tablet open on my lap in front of me. Now that we were both sitting, he was still taller than me and I went up to just about his shoulders.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. If I shifted over just slightly, I could brush our legs together.

“It means King.”

“I don’t doubt that.” I said as I made a show to size him up again with my eyes. He shrunk a bit under my gaze, but still relatively hovered over me in a relaxed way.

“So King,” I mused and his eyes lit up at mine, “How tall are you?”

“82 inches.”

A low whistle escaped me and I noticed the more I probed for questions the faster he bounced his boot or wrung his fingers together. After a solid ten minutes or so of recounting his medical history and any procedures he had done, he settled on pulling his tags from under the collar of his shirt. I quickly jotted down his blood type and leaned back with a heavy sigh.

“I think that’s all then.” I mused and his eyes never left my face. I tipped my head up at him and intentionally gave him a bright smile, those bright blue eyes grew wide and snapped across the room, suddenly looking everywhere but mine. I stifled a laugh and rolled back over to the desk about a foot away from where he sat. Glad for some distance as the room seemed to grow warm.

“I hope to take some blood samples later, maybe today or sometime later this week so, don’t go to far okay?” I turned back over to him and crossed my legs up top the other.

He stood and re-settled the mask back over his face like it had been before and nodded. He turned to me just before he reached the door, one hand on the handle.

“I hope you like it here, Maus.” He said in a gentle and promising way, my face flushed and he quickly turned to leave, the door falling shut in his wake.

‘I hope you like it here,’

‘Maus.’ Rang between my ears.

Was I just given a nickname?

____

Kicking my feet and giggling the entire time I was writing this. The soap ghost race? C’mon guys GUYS guys pls. Also 82 inches is 6’10, I don’t actually know if that’s cannon but someone on TikTok said it so it must be real right?

Feedback apreciated

[yandere-sins]

Could I request a yandere vampire viewing humans to be nothing more than food, only to find their Darling stand out amongst the many mortals they’ve consumed over the years?Instead of draining their Darling prey dry in a few weeks like usual, the vampire decides to keep their Darling - to savor, to play with, and cherish in its own way - much to Darling’s dismay at seeing no end or escape in sight. Bonus points if the vamp bite can be pleasurable or painful, depending on the vamp’s mood, and can be used as a reward or punishment as needed. Double bonus for nsfw bits if you’re feeling up to it

I just felt like writing about bitemarks, make of that what you want. Thanks for requesting!

»»———————— ♡ ————————«« 

You winced as they put the weight of their arms on top of yours, tangling their fingers with yours. With your arms stretched out by long, silk fabric and suspended in the air on either side, you had crumbled to the ground, exhausted, drained, spent. Only making you more vulnerable than you already were. You looked up into the mirror before you and at yourself, your eyes lidded from getting no sleep ever since you arrived, and your body missing its energy, skin sunken in as if you were sick.

The vampire let out a satisfied groan, watching you through the reflection in the mirror. Of course, you couldn’t see them in return. You just felt them. You felt their breath against your cheek, the weight of their body as they leaned on you and your feeble condition, and the itching pain from the bite marks that were all over you.

When you were chosen as a sacrifice, you naturally felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. Unlike the many sacrifices you had witnessed over the years, you tried to put on a brave smile, help with the preparations, and even changed your diet. All so that the last few hours of your life would be meaningful. But in reality, you were horrified. Scared and unwilling to die. Creatures like the vampires should be flogged and not appeased with sacrifices they could eat. You weren’t cattle! You were a living, breathing human! However, now that you spent days with them, you realized that it was absolutely impossible to be anything other than a blood donor.

Over and over, their fingertips tapped on the marks they left behind from their teeth. Some started bruising, hurting under their touch. Others were still oozing crimson blood after being torn open. Your life had become much worse than that of cattle. You wouldn’t die as quickly as a cow or goat. You had to endure until you either were killed out of boredom or drained dry to the vampire’s pleasure.

“Tears ruin the taste,” they scolded you, indifferent to the feeling of helplessness and fear you were experiencing. Instinctively, like the people-pleaser you were, you tried to wipe them away, but your hands were still suspended in midair, hanging from the walls on either side of you. If only you could have had a bit of dignity, maybe dying wouldn’t have been so bad. But they restrained you like the sacrifice you were, making you look at yourself in the mirror as they tortured you.

You didn’t even want to think about what they’d do to your body after you died.

Long, cold fingers wrapped around your throat, the mild strangulation uncomfortable yet able to make you focus on it instead of everything else. Deep breaths, the villagers said. Whenever the vampire touches you, take deep breaths to keep calm. Struggling was futile anyway, and you are a sacrifice, not a wild animal. The villagers told you that as if you should be proud of your position, but how in the world could you be proud of what you had become?

One hand wandered upwards to your face, the fingers slim like spider legs, but you couldn’t help but notice that they had begun to warm up, and you assumed that was thanks to your blood. They crept up on you until you had to fear their long nails were going to pluck out your eye. Squeezing them both close tightly, you hoped to at least not experience that horror, only feeling how one of the fingers brushed by your eyelashes, wiping away the tears for you.

Blinking a few times, the hand disappeared, and you heard a very disappointed sounding, “Salty...” from behind you. Twisting your head to look back over your shoulder, you were met with the bright crimson eyes that drilled into yours, their hand slowly lowering from their mouth after they had a taste of your tears and an unsatisfied expression on their face.

“Told you it ruins the taste,” they shrugged, elegantly gesturing that they didn’t care for your tears, and you almost felt inclined to apologize.

“Please...” you muttered, finding that your mouth was terribly dry.

“Hm?” they perked up, having forgotten how your voice sounded after days of silently accepting your fate.

“Please end it,” you pleaded, close to tears again. “I-I’m ready. I don’t care what happens, but I can’t live like this anymore. Please, have mercy!”

You were tired. So, so tired. You wanted to sleep or eat. Go back to your family and see your friends again. But knowing that would never happen, if you at least could die, then you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

Instead, fingers wrapped around your chin, their presence suddenly in front of you. Forcing your head back, you were stared at from above, just two red orbs enveloped in darkness, and it was hard to maintain eye contact with them more than ever. “Who do you think you are? Thinking you can make demands?”

“N-No,” you pressed forth through the pain of your jaw crushing under their grip and your bruises ripping open from the strain. “I’d never dare!”

“Good.” Instantly, the vampire’s mood seemed to change back to the usual indifference, and they kneeled down before you. Their right hand brushed down your neck and along your shoulder, getting covered in the red color of your blood before they brought it to their lips, licking it off their knuckles. “I gave you these for a reason. They are a perfect imprint from me on you, so no one will dare to feed off my property. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Speechless, you wanted to say something, but the situation was simply overwhelming. Why would they want to mark you? Why was it important who you belonged to? You were just a sacrificed ready to be consumed.

A flinch escaped you as they leaned forward, and you were expecting another burning bite, but instead, lips pecked at the bite wounds tenderly, one after the other. Again and again, until the kisses became fervent, tongue lapping out, sucking at your skin. It stung and burned, and you had to bite your lip tightly as to not let out a sound. Your body grew hot and felt like it was pulling at your open skin; it was almost too much.

Until you suddenly felt hot breath against your lips, opening your eyes alarmed. With an eager tongue, the vampire tasted from the blood on your mouth before parting your lips, breaths and tongues mingling. You expected to taste your own blood, but it tasted sweeter than you could have ever dreamed about. Sweet, enticing, and hot, that’s what the kiss felt like, even though your body was struggling with the pain and the hand on your throat cutting off more air than you could take in. And yet, as if magically pushed towards the vampire, you only leaned in more, tried to get more of the sweet pleasure of their tongue. Just as surprising as it came, it ended, and you were left gasping as the vampire pulled away.

“Better?” they asked, and through your fogged brain, you weren’t sure you understood. “Don’t ever ask to die again. Remember, you are mine forever.”

With them standing up, you got a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again, and you blinked a few times at the image before you. All over your left shoulder, there was no mark left, and your skin had puffed up again, eyes wide open and awake. The vampire disappeared behind you again, but you quickly felt their arms wrap around your torso, a feeling you knew well by now. “If you’re truly that miserable, tell me. I wouldn’t know. I don’t understand you humans. But know that my help comes at a price.”

Finally, you were able to puzzle together your thoughts. The healthy feeling you had, together with your body looking perfectly fine, must be the vampire’s doing. They must have used some kind of magic or trick on you, but having exhausted themselves by doing that, that probably meant...

Their fangs protruding from their mouth, they dragged them along your supple skin, searching for the best spot to bite down. Fleshy, warm, and soft. Where the blood would spurt out from the slightest irritation. Clenching your teeth, you couldn’t help but try to fight their tight embrace, tried to get out before it was too late. But your struggles were futile, only pressing you up into their fangs until you felt them sink into you inch by inch.

Your ears buzzing and your heart racing as you were fed from, you only shut your eyes tightly, holding back the gasps and moans, not wanting anyone to think this was actually enjoyable. But the sweet taste on your tongue remained, as well as the feeling of their lips against yours, making you wonder what they meant when they claimed you for ‘forever’.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Suptober 29 Oct.: A million reasons

"Where are you going?" Dean murmured. The long pause made him open his eyes again. "Cas?"

deancas, post 15x18 au, angst and fluff

It wasn't that Dean had never sat out a hunt before; it was just rare that he missed one on account of plague. Or dreaded flurge. Or viral voodoo.

"Having the flu is serious, Dean. You're generally healthy, which is in your favor. But you need to rest." Cas pulled the loveliness of his cool palm away from Dean's too warm forehead.

Dean drifted for a few minutes. Three blankets weighed him down in the bed well enough that he'd mostly stopped shivering. His skin felt tender and misshapen, like he'd been yanked around like a Gumby and now his limbs were mismatched, his spine squished in some places and crooked in others. He was hot but also very cold and he hated both sensations more than he could possibly convey without biting something like a rabid raccoon.

When he opened his eyes, Cas was putting on his trench coat.

"Where are you going?" Dean murmured. The long pause made him open his eyes again. "Cas?"

"I'm going with them," Cas said as he walked back over to the bed. "Garth and Donna are meeting us there, and Jack's talked to Rowena five times in the last hour, so none of this should take long." He sat down on the edge of the mattress and looked only a little apprehensive.

Through his brain fog, Dean could imagine Cas's rationalization process. Cas had been freed from the Empty four months ago. His sea legs were growing stronger day by day, as were his hunting skills. Whatever calling to help others that he'd had as an angel was even stronger now that he was completely, irrevocably human. And while Jack and Amara had done their best, much of it to the true benefit of humanity, on earth there would always be monsters and a need for those who could fight them. Cas probably had a million reasons to want to go assist his family, at least until, well… Other decisions about the future had been clarified.

A small pack of twitchy zombies, newly hatched for Halloween by some local faux warlock dipshit with a surplus of ego and a deficit of intelligence, wouldn't be a match for a well seasoned pack of hunters and the reigning queen of Hell, who sometimes liked to pop up from the sulfur pits to join in the festivities. Cas would be in good company and unlikely to be harmed.

Of course, if he was, he'd bruise and bleed, and heal as slowly as any other human. And should something worse happen… 

Dean's whole throat itched as he did not – did not – think about it.

"Dean?" Cas asked quietly. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

No. No.

Dean nodded. He couldn't look at Cas, though. "Be careful, and then come home." His voice rasped and his eyes burned so badly that he tried not to blink as he stared holes into the blanket.

"I will." Cas tapped the top of Dean's hand with his fingertips. "I love you."

The soft words startled Dean into looking up. Cas hadn't said that again since… Since. In all the weeks he'd been back, they'd not talked about how he was taken or why. Dean couldn't bear to. He wasn't going to be selfish further; it was enough that Cas was alive.

"I love you too," Dean surprised himself by saying. 

Cas didn't look a bit surprised. He held Dean's gaze for a long minute, then stood up, almost smiling. "We'll be back in no time."

He closed the door behind him. Dean let tears drip down his face for the span of several breaths. God, the flu sucked. That's all this was, wasn't it? He was a bad patient; always had been.

Under the blankets, he curled himself up tightly and still hurt everywhere. Still shook.

A gentle touch returned to his forehead, someone brushing his hair behind his ear with cool fingers.

Dean struggled to sit upright. "You'd said it'd be quick. Wow." 

Cas gave him a sheepish look. "I was voted out of the group this time."

"Why?" Dean couldn't imagine a reason the others wouldn't want Cas on their team.

"Apparently my close proximity to you could be described as reckless, since you are clearly suffering a, quote, disgusting contagion which I could spread to the others." Cas quirked his mouth. "I told them I'd had a flu shot and at present display no signs or symptoms of illness to no avail. We're being quarantined together."

Dean squinted at him. "What does that mean?"

"Sam said he'd bring us a bucket of KFC after they'd finished up with the zombie nest and leave it by the door."

Dean put his hands over his face and muffled a borderline hysterical laugh. "You're at far greater risk of catching the flu trapped in here with me."

"I don't mind." Cas had on his stubborn, borderline petulant expression.

"Having the flu is serious, Cas. Someone told me that mere minutes ago." Dean crossed his arms over his chest and pretended like he wasn't shivering.

"I'll live," Cas said. His eyes brightened. "Both of us will."

"Okay, well." Dean scooted over in the bed. "Climb aboard, I guess." 

Cas sat with his back against the headboard, his hand heavy and gentle atop Dean's shoulder. Every part of Dean ached, and he didn't care at all.

-

In the end, the zombies were vanquished easily, if messily. The promised bucket of KFC turned into three days of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and something Sam called Chili Fantasia. (Dean never did find out what made it stringy. He didn't want to know, of course.) Despite the food, Dean's symptoms were much improved by the fourth day. Cas ran a low grade fever for approximately nine hours and was predictably the whiniest person about it Dean had ever encountered. It diminished his adoration of Cas by zero point zero percent.

On the fifth day, they found better things to do in bed than sleep.

[gettinshiggywithit]

!Swan dive!

Scenario:- deku makes a life changing decision;kacchan sees it all

Characters:- katsuki Bakugou ,izuku midoriya

Pairing:- kinda Bakudeku

tw :- character death

Enjoy~

Izuku was tired

He was tired of the bullying

He was tired of the ridicule

And most importantly,

He was tired of bakugou.

Everyday was complete agony

All because his precious kacchan had picked him to be the target of his insults.

Why did it have to be him??just because he was quirkless????

Why couldnt he just be born with a quirk

Why must HE suffer alone

Izuku was tired

And that’s why he wasnt scared

Its why he didn’t hesitate.

“Take a swan dive off the building ,then maybe youll be born with a quirk in your next life.”

The words rang fresh in his mind as he stood on the edge of the school’s roof.

The wind blew his green mess of hair back and out of his face

And for a second he thought even nature wanted him to see his death

His mind raced,trying to come up with reasons not to.

What about his mother?

“No she abandoned me.she gave up on me when she was my last hope... shell be fine”he told himself

What about ALLMIGHT he’d never approve of this!hed want me to survive!

“Well too bad ‘cos where even is he??hes nothing but a grinninf idiot who uses force to achieve his goals.hes nothing!”

Izuku was crying now,screaming out the answers to his internal questions

What about...what about kacchan?

It was a last ditch attempt but something was better than nothing?

He scoffed

Why in the ever living FUCK did his brain make him think of kacchan????? The boy who had caused him all his pain,whod put him in this position

It was at this moment that izuku made up his mind.

He wipped away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt and smiled

“Fuck him”

And with that he let himself fall

He didnt feel fear or panic

Just calm

And as the air rushed past his face he closed his eyes feelin at peace for what felt like the first time in forever.

It was a pity it couldn’t last long......

Meanwhile katsuki bakugou was exiting his alma mater.

He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and there was an itch in the back of his neck

Thats when he started hearing it

The angry rage-filled screaming

He looked around and then when he heard it again he looked up

And his already-pale face whitened further

It was...DEKU and he was screaming from the school roof

Katsuki suddenly remembered the words he’d said to the other boy just that day and guilt and dread gathered in the pit of his stomach

He tried to shout to izuku,tellin him not to be stupid, to come down

His eyes began to fog up as each of his attempts failed and before he could think of anything else to do,anyone else to call

Deku jumped

Katsuki lunged forward in a last attempt to save his...friend

But before he could even move a muscle

Deku lay on the ground,bloodied and broken...

And katsuki fell to his knees and cried

Hed never cried

Not once and never in public

But

This was different

This was HIS fault

“DEKU WAKE UP! WAKE UP YOU FUCKIN PIECE OF SHIT COME ON WAKE UPPPPP”

And when izuku didnt move

When he didnt make a sound

Katsuki gave up

Hed never given up NEVER

But

He just couldnt...

He lay his head on the broken boy’s chest and said his last words to him

“Im sorry...i-i need you deku”

And when still no answer came he died a little inside too.

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but these stories? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Comments & Reblogs w/ tags >>>>>>>>>>>likes please

[bloomyagi]

bleed me dry (m)

summary: where Itadori is your bottom-loving boyfriend and Sukuna reluctantly learns this vessel is the real curse. or: where seduction is a dangerous game, and the King of Curses loses.

pairings: itadori x f!reader, sukuna x f!reader

warnings: subby itadori, sub sukuna (yeah you read that right), light bondage, blindfolds, sukuna’s havin a whole ‘reconsidering life’s meaning’ moment, lotta swear cause u know sukuna things, coming untouched, he faints (yeah you also read that right) and is actually unabashed about it, all things considered

length: 1,432

notes: what? me? obsessed with jjk? that doesn’t sound like me at all! 

.

.

.

His vessel is in love.

The word curdles in his mouth, tastes like ash. He has never known such a thing. It is part of his nature, he muses absently. Hardened from centuries of death and decay. Of destruction and war. He revels in it. Feels the most alive amongst the chaos.

But that’s the point. Curses can feel. They can have emotional attachment. Can’t you see? In so many ways, they’re not so different from us. He thinks you’re too loud. Your thoughts and beliefs are too loud. They’re also pointless and naïve, and he likes to pop by just to drive it home.

Hello, Sukuna. Where is the fear? Where is the resentment, the anger? The disgust? He enjoys it. But you—you just sit there and coax him into conversation like he’s another one of your classmates. Like he can’t crush your windpipe with a single flick of his hand. Like he isn’t the slow bleed of a death sentence for your lover. Like he isn’t anything at all. Like his titles and powers are stripped. What is he beyond it all? Who is he?

You ask about him sometimes. He rarely gives any indication he’s listening, but he does. Of course he does. There’s not much to do, bound and locked in this pink-haired boy. He lounges on this throne and watches his vessel pine and blush.

Sukuna watches his vessel fuck his fist and mewl your name every night.

It’s sad. “Brat,” he hisses. “Grow some balls. This is just pathetic.”

Itadori swallows. “Oh. Can you—?”

Sukuna shoves him off the ledge. A faint yelp travels, followed by a large splash. “Fuck her already. All this sitting and plotting is making my ass itch. If you won’t, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sukuna tilts his head to peer down. Itadori’s eyes are narrowed, uncharacteristically solemn.

His lips bare into a slow grin. “Try me.”

Itadori blinks once. And then vanishes.

.

.

.

Fuck. It’s the only coherent thought his muddled mind can pierce together. He gazes down at his palm, opening and closing languidly. His vision is blurry, spine tingling. He raises the other hand, reaching for his palm.

Mmm. He shakes his head firmly. The sharp tinge of metallic and iron coating his tongue clears the fog a little. The pain fades quickly, muted from his years of conquest and ruin.

Every nerve is on fire. His skin, this flesh cage, burns, an unfamiliar heat curling in his lower stomach. Sukuna is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh—is well-acquainted, spent much of the centuries indulging in his vast harems. In the haze of blood and carnage, there is the memory of writhing bodies, of soft thighs and breasts, of glazed eyes and cries of his name. Of women fucked into wanton abandon, bred and lost in the worship of his cock.

But this. This heat is foreign in every sense. In its strange intensity and all-encompassing hold. All his senses are heightened but laser focused on the other pair of hands mapping his body. On the addicting sensations they’re inducing.

Can you—? Yes. Yes, he fucking can. He can feel everything and he wants to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze.

His eyes roll back. Ngh.

“Fucking wench,” he snarls. You’re a fuckin’ tease and if you edge him again, he is going to murder—

“Ah, ah. Watch your language, Sukuna. Ask nicely.”

He jolts. Finds his eyes cloaked in darkness, arms tied to his back and legs spread. Bare, save for a pair of briefs that’s slick and restricting. Kneeling. The sheets bunch beneath him. Every muscle in his body is tensed, body coated in a thin layer of sweat.

This position—!

“That brat—mmph!” Is that a fucking—gag? Did you just gag him? He struggles harder against the binds, but he feels your lips curl into a smile where you’re suckling against the column of his neck.

“You’re powerless here. The binds will restrict you for the next twenty-four hours … unless you can be good.” You trace the thick knots, smiling only growing at the way he lets out a muffled growl.

Every fucking sense is heightened tenfold. He’s on firefirefire. The flames consuming him inside out, like he’s being exorcised from within.  

It’s humiliating. It’s exhilarating. It feels—

“King of Curses. I want you to beg.” You’re a witch. You’re enthralling. Temptation incarnate. His head falls forward, chest heaving.

“Mmmmf!”

“What a dirty mouth,” you murmur, and his struggling is renewed when he feels your fingers dig into his thighs.

Oi, brat, he growls. What the hell is this?

His vessel is silent, but the back of his mind prickles. He’s watching. That freaky little shit.

“So stubborn. Let go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Fuckfuckfuck, you’re palming his cock over the thin fabric. Maybe it’s been a while, maybe there’s a little more truth lurking beneath it, but he vaguely notes he’s never been so hard before.

You—! You’re fuckin’ burning his briefs off. Ash tickles his nose. A small part of him thinks it’s hot. His cock throbs, and even without visual confirmation, he knows you’ve paused at the sheer size. His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, dark pride making his chest swell. What was he so worked up for? You’ll just end being another one of his breeding bitches, fucked stupid by his thick, long cock.

But then you pinch his left nipple, twisting harshly. Electricity courses through him and a sound he’s never heard in his absurdly long life escape his lips, muffled by the gag. His back arcs, head hitting the mattress beneath him.

His mind blanks, eyes rolling back as white noise fills his ears.

.

.

.

He rouses slowly.

He blinks lethargically at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. Everything feels muted, limbs heavy like he’s swimming in a pool of ink. But he’s not restrained anymore. There’s a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to peer at you, half-lidded.

“That’s a very nice expression,” you chuckle, moving to sit by his side. The mattress dips lightly. He lifts a hand to tug at the hem of your outfit, expression twisting at the staggering movement.

“That’s a very nice look on you,” he murmurs in response. You’re wearing one of his vessel’s dress shirts, the oversized fabric falling mid-thigh. It simultaneously swallows you and presses against your curves. Something inside him stirs. His throat feels shot, even though he knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak.

You help him sit up, propped against the headrest, before offering him a glass of water. His lips lift into a half-smirk and you sigh, shaking your head but acquiescing. You take a mouthful before kissing him. Water dribbles down his chin.

You wipe it away with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. His chest tightens.

“How long—?” He tries to move, but you stop him with a firm hand. He’s conflicted at the way his body responds immediately to the touch. His temperature flares despite his obvious fatigue.

“A few hours. I asked if Yuuji would keep you out until you woke.”

There’s a pause, and the knowing look in your eye tells him you know he’s mulling it over.

And then—

He reaches for you, and you set the glass aside to climb on his lap.

He bares his fangs. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As you press him into the bed, tongue stroking his in such a manner his brain is starting to haze over again quickly, he thinks, brat, we’re going to have a long talk after this.

Sukuna doesn’t expect an answer after his vessel’s continued vigil, so he starts when Itadori replies, she’s ours.

I don’t share, he slurs. He thinks he sees a flicker of Itadori’s grin.

You’re going to have to. Because you like her, too. And she’s the one in control, not either of us.

Dimly, Sukuna acknowledges he’s right. You might be the one bouncing on his cock, but he’s not the one fucking you, you’re the one fucking him.

Fine, he gasps as you run your nails down his abdomen. Deal.

Good, his vessel says. Because I’m next, and you better not get in the way.

He growls, eyebrows knitting.

Your smile only grows.

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[coldsandfluff]

Y/ounger Sickfic (F, Liza/Charles)

So I figured I should start migrating all of my fics over here in case the forum never comes back. Hopefully some of you haven't read them yet and will enjoy them!

This one is a Y/ounger fic set in the first season, when Liza is just starting her job as Diana's assistant. She comes down with a cold, and Charles notices. I basically wrote it because Charles gave me HUGE care-taking vibes after he went to the hospital to check on Liza when she hurt her leg, and there's nothing hotter to me than a boss in a suit caring for someone with a cold 🔥

Editorial Weakness

“Liza… LIZA!”

Diana’s voice wormed its way through the thick fog of Liza’s daydreaming—or rather daynightmaring. Liza snapped back to reality, realizing that her name had probably been called quite a few times in an increasingly exasperated way. One look at her boss confirmed it: Diana’s face was flushed beyond her heavy-handed blush application, her signature red lips transformed into a straight, annoyed line.

And of course, everyone else in the conference room was staring at her. Including Charles Brooks, handsome CEO of Empirical Press. Literate, piercing blue-eyed gentlemen, always dressed to the nines. Also known as Liza’s boss’s boss.

Liza sat up straighter, tempting a friendly smile towards Diana. “Yes?”

Try as she might, she could not replay the last five minutes of the discussion in her head as she usually could, a trick she’d learned long ago as a mother. The ability to temporarily filter out the incessant babbling of her daughter when she was younger had been critical for Liza’s mental health, but she had always been able to count on her brain to rewind when the child would suddenly say something odd. For context, of course. Because when your six-year-old asks “what’s a cock,” it’s important to know that she was just watching a documentary about chickens. And don’t ask why she was watching a documentary about chickens.

“If you would stop gallivanting about at frat parties every night, maybe you would have enough energy during the day to pay attention during meetings, Liza.” Diana shot a knowing look towards Charles, as if to say “kids these days,” but Charles didn’t notice. He was looking at Liza with a slight frown.

Liza stared at her notebook on the table, pressing her lips together. She was still getting used to the condescending “millenials” remarks from Diana. While she no longer felt the need to shout “I’M 40 YEARS OLD” in protest every time, it still made her feel guilty for the lie she was living. She’d forget about it for a few hours, and then something like this would happen, and guilt would rear its ugly head all over again. When Liza had faked being 26 years old to get hired at Empirical, she had never expected it to become such a big deal in her day-to-day life. It was a lesson in humility. Age mattered more than people believed.

And now, not only was she lying to all of them, she also wasn’t paying attention during a meeting where she was tasked to take notes. In front of Charles himself, no less. A true employee of the year.

“College students go to frat parties, Diana,” Kelsey said, her annoyance veiled in politeness. “Not working adults.” As a true representative of the millennials, Kelsey never missed an opportunity to correct Diana. Even though it was a lost cause.

“Yes, well,” Diana flicked her manicured hands in the air, heavy bracelets jangling on her wrists, “this is not the point. I’m expecting you to pay attention when I’m talking, Liza. That is what we’re paying you to do. Now, would you please tell us how many submissions we’ve received this month?”

Liza nodded and nervously looked through her notebook. “Of course, let me just…” She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the words but not absorbing the information. Her nose had started tingling, an itch that felt like the light stroke of a goose feather deep within her sinuses. She wiggled her nose, trying to keep a brewing sneeze at bay. All eyes were on her still; this was not the moment to…

“Hh—Ihh’tsshh” Liza turned to her right in time, covering her nose and mouth with her elbow. “Excuse me, I… Ihh’TSSHH!” She registered the few bless you’s her colleagues mumbled, nodding her thanks as she straightened up. Liza knew her face was bright red. She could feel the flush burning her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and squeaked a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that!”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Are we ever going to get those numbers, or do we need to send a request through Snapbook, Liza?”

“Snapchat,” muttered Kelsey.

Liza sniffled. “No, no need, I’ve got them right here.” She paged through the notebook and finally found what she needed. “We’ve gotten less than usual but I haven’t had a chance to log all the submissions this week yet.” She lifted her eyes to meet Diana’s annoyed stare. “With the two ad campaigns and the issues with One Day We’ll Be, I didn’t…”

“Just get it done by tomorrow morning,” Diana cut her off with a steely smile.

For the rest of the meeting, Liza focused her attention on Diana and took overly detailed notes, hoping to redeem herself for her misstep. She wasn’t the kind of woman to take her obligations lightly, and she seldom had moments of distraction like this. Truth be told, she wasn’t feeling the best. She’d woken up exhausted in spite of a full night's sleep, and her head throbbed just a smidge behind her eyes. She could tell that she was coming down with something, but hopefully she’d be able to make it to the weekend before it hit her full force.

When the meeting ended and everyone filed out of the room, Liza walked passed Charles on her way to the door.

“Liza?” His voice sent a shiver down Liza’s spine.

She turned around, hugging her notebook to her chest. “Yes?”

“Everything alright?” His eyes locked with hers in the way they always did. Charles had the type of gaze that seemed able to search one’s soul for the answers to his questions. It was in the way he focused all his attention on the person he was talking to, creating a bubble around them that separated them from the rest of the world.

Liza nodded. She mustered an overenthusiastic “yep!” before turning around and leaving the room.

If there was ever a man that made her feel 26 instead of 40, it was Charles Brooks.

---

Liza pushed the heavy door of her office building, spilling out into New York’s freezing autumn air. She followed a crowd of office workers making their way out for lunch, a chill running through her skin. In the scuffle, someone bumped into her and knocked her purse down, spilling some of its content on the pavement.

“Excuse you…” Liza mumbled, crouching down to retrieve her belongings. She suddenly missed Brooklyn and its quieter streets, friendlier neighbors and actual trees. Time Square was nice for a night out on the town or if you were visiting the city for a few days, but working in the district wasn’t always a thrill. However, she wasn’t here for the New York experience—she was here for the job. Books were her absolute passion, and if getting a career in publishing meant that she’d have to partake in a few elbow brawls on the streets to get it, she was ready to fight.

“Liza.”

Liza looked up, her lipstick in hand, balancing on her heels in a crouched position. She recognized the tie before she even saw his face. Navy silk, polka dotted. Once her eyes reached Charles’s face, Liza was already smiling. “Hey!”

“Here, let me help.” He crouched down to her level, helping her corral her stuff. Liza quickly shoved the used tissues in her pockets, hoping Charles hadn’t noticed them. Gross.

“There’s ‘rush hour,’ and then there’s ‘lunch hour,’” Liza said with a scoff. “I guess even walking is a hazard here.”

Charles smiled, picking up the novel she was currently reading that now laid on the sidewalk. “Murakami,” he said approvingly. “This one isn’t a favorite of the critics. What do you think of it so far?”

Liza’s eyes lit up instantly. “I know the pacing is a bit slow and the story can be repetitive, but there’s something about Murakami’s prose that keeps me coming back. It’s like taking a long, warm bath in the middle of winter, but on the moon. He always manages to create this sense of familiarity and warmth in an unfamiliar world and—“ Liza caught herself babbling away, the words tumbling out at high speeds. “Sorry, you must have somewhere to be! Don’t let me hold you back.”

Charles chuckled, his eyes wrinkling at the corner. His laughed matched his well-mannered behavior, a controlled but sexy huff with just enough sincerity to send sparkles through Liza’s stomach. He stood up, then offered his hand to help Liza up. She took it, noticing the warmth of it against her freezing hand.

The wind picked up, slipping through Liza’s open coat. She shivered, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and crossing her arms over her chest. Charles’s smile faltered. “You should bundle up, it’s getting colder every day.” He glanced back towards the street. “My taxi is here. Why don’t you share it with me. We can drop you off wherever you need to go.”

“Oh no, thank you, but I could use the walk. The cold will help wake me up.” She smiled. “Better than caffeine!” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She did need to wake up, but she wasn’t particularly happy to be in the cold right now. Her entire body seemed to revolt against the temperature change. However, her nose had started to run and tickle, and she did not want to blow it in front of Charles in the back of a taxi. The sheer idea of it was mortifying.

“You sure?” Charles asked, raising an eyebrow. She was doing a poor job of keeping her body from shaking.

“Yep! I just need to start walking to warm up.” She gave him a dismissive wave. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright then.” Charles nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

Liza watched him walk to his taxi, his trench coat and gray scarf flapping in the wind. A sudden, sharp prickle caused her to gasp and pitch her head forward into her hands. “Hh—Iiih’TSSHH!” She fished around her purse for a new tissue and dabbed at her nose, groaning. The virus had definitely taken hold.

At least Charles hadn’t been there to witness it.

---

Liza moved to the back of the elevator, balancing a tray of drinks and a paper bag containing her lunch. She’d picked up Diana’s green juice and green smoothie, as requested. “Everyone is spreading their disgusting little germs everywhere in this office,” Diana had told Liza with a repulsed moue. “I don’t have time to get sick. Get me my green juices, double shots.” Ironic, since Liza herself was sick, although Diana didn’t know yet. And Liza intended on keeping it that way. She didn’t want to be sent home and look like an unreliable assistant who keeled over at the first sign of a sniffle. She’d been through much worse than this. Back in the days, she’d be taking care of the kid, cleaning the house, making dinner, setting up doctor appointments and taking care of her sick husband—now ex-husband—while battling her own raging fever.

Liza looked at the third drink in the cup tray—her own. She would have preferred a simple cup of chamomile tea with honey, the remedy she could always count on when sick, but the line at the juice bar had been so long that she’d run out of time. The cashier had recommended a "Detox Elixir" for her cold. Apple cider vinegar, ginger, lemon and cayenne pepper. The dirty yellow muddied drink didn’t look (or smell) appetizing whatsoever. Liza hoped that the sandwich she’d also picked up would help wash the drink down, but she wasn’t holding her breath. She’d watched the employee make it. It was 90% alfalfa sprouts, 5% avocado and 5% dry toasted bread made entirely of nuts. Good thing she wasn’t too hungry anyway.

Walking in the cold had made Liza’s nose even more runny, but she couldn’t wipe it since both of her hands were occupied. She sniffled quietly, trying to ignore people glancing at her when she did so. Every time the elevator stopped at a floor, people squeezed towards the back, forcing Liza into the wall. It was starting to get hot and uncomfortable in there.

And of course, that was when a tickle decided to blossom. Liza scrunched up her nose, hiding behind the to-go cups, but it didn’t even slow down the progression of the itch. It spread all the way down to the tip of her nose, until she could no longer fight it. She promptly shoved the paper bag in her mouth to free her hand and fetch a tissue, but there was no time. With her hand stuck in her purse and her other hand holding the drinks, she bit down hard on the paper bag and turned towards the wall, stifling her sneeze as much as possible.

“Hh—Ihh’Hnxch!... Hh’Hnxch!”

A few people blessed her, and the guy standing next to her chuckled when he saw her struggling with the bag in her mouth. “Cold season, uh?” he said with a compassionate tone. Meanwhile, there was an evident shift in the crowd as people tried to distance themselves from Liza.

Liza managed to get a tissue and wipe her nose, then grabbed the bag out of her mouth. “You’d think I have Ebola,” she mumbled to the man, nodding towards people now a few steps away from her. Some of them turned to glare at her. Oops.

When the elevator finally dinged on her floor, Liza made her way out, welcoming open spaces, fresh air and a little breeze on her sweaty skin. She dropped off her coat at her desk, checking to see if Diana was busy. The elegant woman sat in her glass office, concentrating on her computer monitor. She hadn’t yet noticed Liza.

Liza quickly grabbed a compact mirror from her purse to see how bad she looked. Her nose was bright red and her cheeks were flushed, but she could blame it on the cold wind. She sniffled a bit, testing her sinuses. No sneezes were brewing. It was now or never.

She knocked on the door frame. “I’ve got your juices right here,” Liza said, placing the cups on Diana’s desk.

“About time,” Diana replied without looking up. “I can almost feel the germs floating all around me.” She grabbed the green smoothie and took a sip. Liza started backing up to take her leave, but Diana added: “I need you to find a space for the launch party of Bright & Wonderful. I’m thinking something young and bright, something…” She wriggled her fingers in the air, looking for another adjective.

“Wonderful?” proposed Liza with a smirk.

Diana raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. Very funny. Just reserve something 'hip.' I’m sure you can do that.”

Liza nodded emphatically, feeling the relentless tickle wake up again in her increasingly congested sinuses. Eager to get out before a sneeze manifested, she started walking out, but Diana interrupted her once again.

“I also need you to contact Mrs. McLure and find out if they’re done drawing the contract. We haven’t heard back from them and we need to lock down the budget for the campaign as soon as possible.”

Liza nodded again, her eyes watering.

“This is top priority, Liza.” Diana glanced at her. “Got it?”

“Mmhmm!”

Diana held Liza’s gaze for a moment, cocking her head. “Is something wrong?”

“No, n-nothing is wrong.” Liza could feel her breath itching, her face scrunching slightly. She had to leave. Now. “Oh, umm…” she gestured towards her desk. “I t—think the phooo…eh… phone is ringing.”

She rushed out, feeling Diana’s eyes on her as she ran straight to the restroom. Once she was safely inside, she grabbed some toilet paper from the roll and let the sneezes overcome her. “Ehh… Hh—Iiih’TSSHH… Hh—Ih’tsshhew… Ahh…Hhh! Hh—Iihh’TSSHH!” Tears were streaming down her face from holding the sneezes back for so long. She blew her nose and washed her hands, sighing.

The door whipped open. “You look like hell,” said Kelsey, stopping next to Liza in front of the mirror to reapply lipstick. “Rough night?”

Liza wiped some of the mascara that had run under her eyes. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.”

Kelsey’s eyes widened. “Oh no, you can’t let Diana know! She’s such a germophobe. You won’t hear the end of it.”

“How am I supposed to hide this from her?” Liza pointed at her face. “I work three feet from her. She’s always calling me in her office. I can’t run to the bathroom every time I have to sneeze or cough.” Although she was seriously considering it.

“I got you fam,” Kelsey said with a conniving smile, slipping her lipstick back in her purse and leaving the restroom.

“Wait!” Liza cried, following her. “Fam?” she whispered to herself, wondering what the hell that even meant. Every day a new slang or app or “meme” popped up. Keeping up with it was beyond overwhelming at times.

Kelsey walked straight to Diana’s office and popped her head in. “Hey, is it OK if I borrow Liza for a while? I need help with invitations.”

Diana waved her hand at her without looking up. “Sure.”

Kelsey turned and gave two thumbs up to Liza. “Follow me!” They both walked to Kelsey’s office further down the corridor. Two large boxes sat open in the middle of the room. “I was going to have the intern do this, but she’s busy with something else.”

Liza looked at Kelsey, dumbfounded. “Wait, you actually need my help? I thought this was a ploy to get me away from Diana’s germophobia?”

Kelsey put a hand on Liza’s shoulder. “Come on Liza. All you have to do is stuff an invitation and a bookmark in each envelope. It’ll be relaxing! Please? Pretty, pretty please?”

Liza sighed. “Fine. But you’ll catch my cold if I hang out here all afternoon. I’ll bring these in a conference room somewhere.” Liza bent down to grab a box, but Kelsey stopped her.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Just take the couch over there. Relax.” She walked to her desk and grabbed a box of Dayquil from her drawer. “Here, help yourself.”

Liza popped two of the orange pills out of the packet. “If I had known you were the drug pusher in the office, I’d have come to you sooner.”

Kelsey laughed. “You bet. This is the good stuff, too. The one you need an ID for.”

“Impressive!” Liza swallowed the pills, then sat on the couch, assessing the task.

“By the way, we’re going to this new bar that opened up in Chelsea. You should come! All the food they serve comes in edible plates, and you eat with edible cutlery. Sounds terrible, but Lauren really wants to check it out.”

Liza scoffed and pointed at her nose. “With this? No thanks.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes. “It’s just a cold, Liza.” She leaned on her desk. “You’ll be fine. Nothing a little alcohol can’t fix,” she added with a conspiring smile.

Liza tried to remember a time in her twenties when she’d gone out with a cold, but couldn’t. Truth be told, she’d always been a bit of a baby when it came to illnesses, at least before she had a kid. She always favored lying on her couch with a heavy blanket and tea. It was a great opportunity to rest and let the world run without her for a few days. Cozy up in the quiet corners of life for a bit.

“Thank you, but I really—“ a tickle interrupted her. She lifted a finger, her eyes fluttering. Kelsey was already on it, handing her a box of tissues. Liza grabbed one and muffled her sneezes in it. “Hh… Iihh'mpphhff! Eh'mppff!”

“Bless you!”

“Thanks. I really wish I could come out tonight, but I’m going to have to stay late and work on the submission logs anyway.”

“Oooh that’s right. Diana was not happy about it this morning. Do you need help?”

“That’s so sweet of you, but no. You should go out. Enjoy eating… dinnerware. Or whatever.”

Kelsey grimaced. “Hopefully it tastes better than Diana’s green juice.”

Liza’s eyes brightened, remembering her sandwich and apple cider vinegar juice that she’d left on her desk. “Actually, I’ve got the perfect juice for you to try if you want to prepare your palate…”

Later, after everyone had gone—including Diana—, Liza went back to her desk to work on the submissions. She’d been working in the darkened office for a few hours, thankful for the quiet, but wishing she could be home in bed. Her cold had progressively worsened. Her throat felt like sandpaper and she’d started coughing a little to clear the irritation. Her eyes were burning the way they do when a fever is creeping up. She’d put on her coat to keep the chills at bay, but her bones still felt cold in spite of the warmth of her skin.

And her nose... The tickle had taken up permanent residence deep within her sinuses. She was constantly sneezing and blowing her nose, reducing her to a proverbial mess. Her bin was overflowing with used tissues.

“Liza?”

Liza froze, her heart stopping for a second. She turned around to see none other than Charles walking down the hallway from his office.

“Charles! You’re still here?”

He chuckled, stopping next to her desk. “So are you. I thought I heard something. I didn’t know I wasn’t alone. Working late?”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Liza said, or rather croaked. She plastered a smile on her face and subtly cleared her throat.

“Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.” He examined her, a look of concern in his kind eyes. Liza almost melted.

“Yep, I’m great. Just a bit tired, you know.” With her foot, she pushed the bin overflowing with tissues underneath her desk, away from Charles's view. “Heading out?” She sniffed. A sneeze was definitely incoming. Of course. She slowed her breathing, praying for it to go away.

“Not yet, I still have—“ Charles stopped in the middle of his sentence, looking curiously at Liza as the woman scrunched up her nose.

“I’m so—sorry— Ehh… Iihh’TSSHH.”

“Bless you.”

“Hh’TSSHHHeew!”

“Bless you again.” Charles produced a white handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and offered it to Liza. “Are you sure you’re feeling OK?”

Liza accepted the handkerchief. “Thank you. It’s just…” she shrugged. “Allergies, you know?”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll let you get back to it, but don’t stay too late.”

“Right back at ya!” As soon as she said it, Liza kicked herself internally. Why did she always sound so lame when Charles was around? He gave her a small wave and walked back to his office.

Liza groaned and let her head fall on her keyboard the minute he was out of sight.

“Why me,” she whined.

---

Another hour later, after many stifled, exhausted sneezes and careful wiping of her nose, afraid to make any noise, Liza’s head rested in her hand, leaning over her desk. Her eyes felt heavy, her nose on fire. Her progress had slowed considerably, fatigue taking over her cold-ridden body. She still had quite a few submissions to process, but didn’t know if she could pull through. She considered getting up to get coffee when suddenly, a steaming cup of tea appeared next to her.

She jumped, finding Charles standing over her.

“Ready to admit you’re under the weather?” he asked with a smirk.

Liza’s nose scrunched up, and she buried her face in the handkerchief. “Hh—Ihh’TSSHH”

“Bless you. I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “You should get some rest.”

“I’m almost done,” Liza lied. “Thank you though. What is it?” She pointed at the mug.

“Oh, it’s just chamomile tea with a bit of honey. It always works for me when my throat is bothering me.”

Liza smiled. “That sounds perfect.” She took a sip, but her nose protested as soon as the steam hit her sensitive nostrils. “Hh… Hhh! Ihh’TSSHH! Ehh—TSSHhhhew!”

Charles frowned. “Bless you, Liza. You’re sounding worse and worse. I really think you should go home.” He looked at her coat, as if just noticing that she was wearing it indoors. “Do you feel feverish?”

“Oh no, it’s not that bad, I just—“

Charles didn’t wait for her to finish and placed his hand on her forehead. His palm felt cool and protective, tender. Liza closed her eyes briefly, his touch shooting a delicious electric buzz through her body.

“You're definitely running a fever,” he murmured. “Come on, I’m sending you home.” He took out his phone and tapped away. “I’m calling you an Uber. And that’s an order, by the way.” He said it with a hint of humor and tenderness, his voice as calm and poised as always. Liza just nodded, unable to say anything after his forehead feel.

She gathered her belongings and let Charles help her up. “Wait!” Liza’s head cleared up, and she remembered Diana’s request. “I have to finish the submissions by—Ehh… Ihh’TSShhh” Charles tightened his grip on her shoulders as Liza pitched forward with the sneeze.

“Bless you,” he said, frowning again, as if worried she would collapse from exhaustion. “I’ll deal with Diana tomorrow morning. Your only job right now is to get into bed and stay there as long as you need. Alright?”

Liza nodded. They made their way down to the lobby of the building.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Charles took off the scarf he’d worn at lunch, slung over his shoulder. “I noticed you weren’t wearing a scarf earlier today and thought you could use it to keep warm.” He slid it around Liza’s neck a few times, covering her bare skin. “There. That’s better.” He then pushed open the door and held it for her.

The cold air felt like an assault on Liza's feverish body, but she didn't care. Even through her congestion, she could smell Charles’s scarf around her neck. A mix of winter pines, soap and worn books. Charles opened the Uber's door, holding Liza's hand as she slid in.

“Thank you, Charles." Liza said from her seat, looking up at him. He glowed under the street light. "I really appreciate your kindness.”

“Of course, Liza.” Charles locked eyes with her, dimming out the rest of the world around them. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you.”

Charles wished her good night and close the door. As the car drove off, Liza closed her eyes.

She knew the dreams to come would be the best fevered dreams she'd ever had.

THE END