#the us is honestly turning into more of a shithole than it already is and I will continue making those old white women uncomfortable

[zyn-is-a-bean]

THIS! I get called sir more than ma’am because of my facial hair and how I have slight muscles. I usually go for the men’s bathroom (mostly bc I’ll have a packer or stp on) but the once in a while I go to the women’s I get weird looks, you can tell people are uncomfortable especially the old white women that push for this to happen!

I think it's time for trans men all over UK (even more if you have a strong cis passing) to act in solidarity and enter women's spaces. Since you are now officially "WOMEN" as declared by the supreme court, let's see how "protected" all those terfs will feel once they see cis-looking men enter their bathrooms with no way to kick you out since it's perfectly legal for you to be here 🙃

[mullermilkshake]

A Love-felt Response

Part 10 <- Part 11 -> Part 12

Hange prints some tickets off.

Yandere!Levi Ackerman x Fem Neighbour!OC Tags - Stalking

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The heating malfunctioned. Again. Levi couldn’t shake off the cold, and like usual, it would be another week until they could dispatch a technician to fix it. He had taken himself to his bedroom for most of the day, answering emails and joining in on work meetings. The only time he had braved the harshness outside was his hour break. 

How stupid to think a walk in this weather would benefit him.

Work had finished recently. He was going to retire for the night, but an email notification took his attention. 

Ellie.Els@mail.com                         Sent Dec 17

Subject: Be honest

Who is this?

Sent to User635719@mail.com

She responded. She actually responded. Levi didn’t expect a reply right away, not this quickly at least. She must be a little interested in replying. His brows knitted. How could she not know who it was? After all, he told her he knew what she liked, and he did. That was no lie. 

He knew she never used butter in her sandwiches. She liked chicken and not ham. She loved romantic comedies and always turned off horror films whenever they graced her screen. Ellie always favoured her reading glasses when she was at home, but never took them out with her. She loved her cat, who almost never returned that love. Levi knew she craved love. 

It was his love that she needed. 

This time, like many others, he wanted to see her face when she received another email. Glancing through the window, there was only the dim glow of her phone screen that briefly lit up her face. 

He rushed back to the computer screen, vigorously tapping the keyboard before she fell asleep. 

User981643@mail.com                      Sent Dec 17

Subject: I’m no stranger.

I’m glad you answered. It makes me feel good that you’ve acknowledged me.

Sent to Ellie.Els@mail.com

His eyes were back on her as soon as the email sent. The phone screen lit up, but there was no movement. She must have fallen asleep already.  

Taking a moment, Levi concluded perhaps he had spooked her too much after watching her at work, then on her way home and maybe walking past her kitchen had been overkill. But he had to see her. He couldn’t keep this distance for long. 

Knock knock 

“Shit.” The computer went on standby. Closing his bedroom door, Levi trudged down the stairs. “This better be good.” His voice echoed against the high ceiling. One figure stood at the door. 

“Erwin.” He said. His school friend stood as he opened the door, stepping to the side to let him in. 

“I realise it’s getting late. I wanted to check in and see how you were while I was passing by.” He took his coat and scarf off, placing them neatly over his arm as he entered. His face wore the same old softened expression as he did when they were kids. 

In his own way, he welcomed the prospect of his dear friend visiting him on a whim. Few people did. “How thoughtful. Tea?” 

But he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling of Erwin’s behaviour at the Christmas party. He couldn’t dismiss it. Not yet.

“Please.” 

Levi showed him through to the kitchen, filling up the kettle and flicking it on. “It’s been a while.” 

Erwin perched himself on the bar stool. “It has. I hope you’re keeping well. Our last chat was brief.” 

He looked well, quite healthy in fact and aging well, seemingly better than Levi. “I’m fine, working hard, keeping my head down.” The tea cups he had pulled from the cupboard clanked against the countertop, a little harder than he intended to. “So how come you’re in the neighbourhood then?” 

Erwin turned to face him, cradling one hand in the other on the table. “There was a late viewing for a house down the road. I’ll be moving in next month.” 

That seemed a little too convenient. “You’re honestly moving back to this shithole?” Levi opened another cupboard, choosing a night time tea for the occasion. 

Erwin looked shocked at his response. It was a shitty town, small with nothing here. What idiot would move here willingly?

He looked down for a moment, but his mouth stayed smiling. “It’s my hometown too. I have a job and friends here, a possible relationship. Why wouldn’t I?” 

Their eyes met. Levi closed the cupboard a little too hard. “Relationship?” 

“Ah yes, well possibly. I’m taking Ellie out tomorrow night. She lives next door.” 

Ellie. So this was the reason he had come tonight. To rub the salt in the wound. Oh, just look at him. Parading around like he owns the place.

Levi turned back around to tend to the steaming kettle. It also hid his twitching eye. “Oh right, where are you going?” 

“The new Italian restaurant by the square, I hear good things, and apparently their wine selection is impeccable.” 

He knew the place. The exact place he was going to take Ellie himself. Though instead, they ended up drinking, going back to his place, and fucking. “I know the place. What time are you going? I hope you made a reservation. It gets busy.” Steam filled the immediate vicinity, as Levi dropped the tea bags in the cups a little rougher than he expected. 

“Yes, I heard that as well. The reservation is at eight. I’m looking forward to it, it’s been a while, so I’m a little out of touch if I’m honest.” 

Levi placed the freshly brewed tea in front of Erwin, this time reminding himself to put a bar on his anger. “That’s a great time to go. Things should start dying down by then.” He almost threw up a little. “Very romantic.” 

“Are you alright Levi? You were never this interested in others’ lives.” 

He still wasn’t. Though when a friend of his waltzes into his house, thinking he can just come back into his life and steal away someone dear to him, well, then he wasn’t alright. 

Self righteous prick. 

Levi shook his head a little. “I’m not very well, was about to head to bed, actually.” 

Erwin fumbled with his coat, clearly understanding his leave was imminent. “Don’t let me keep you. I apologise for the intrusion. Here’s my number. Let’s meet for lunch and catch up properly.” A small scrap of paper was all he physically left. “Thank you for the tea, Levi. I’ll show myself out.” 

Levi took a sip of tea, halfheartedly lifting a hand goodbye. “Later.” The front door closed.

The scrap paper looked like Ellie’s the day he met her. Erwin’s fancy ass writing adorned its edges with his number. “Your paper’s much prettier, Ellie.” He said. 

Hers had a heart on it. 

Levi typed in the number and quickly discarded the paper. He took out his wallet, pulling out a small scrap of paper so delicate, uncreased and dead flat. He took it everywhere with him. 

Ellie <3 

“Your handwriting is perfect.” It slipped back in the wallet’s confines perfectly. 

Knock knock

Again? No more fucking visitors. Levi stormed to the door, whipping it open. “Erwin if-“ 

“Hello Levi!”

“Hange.” 

Hange let them self in, blundering past him into the hallway with a grin and a smell. “I’m sorry for the late visit, but I’m staying at Ellie’s and I wanted to use your printer for the boarding passes.” 

Levi just looked, no clue to what they were referring b to and he honestly just didn’t care.

“Oh! Moblit and I are going on a romantic getaway in the new year!” Hange clapped their hands together, eyes wide like saucers, and Levi could swear he saw a bit of dribble. “It’ll be glorious! We’re bug hunting on a reserve, oh what a holiday!” 

He ignored that response. However, one thing piqued his interest. “Why are you at Ellie’s? I saw the police lights.” 

He didn’t need to see where the police lights were to know they were at Ellie’s house. It did, however, slice at his heart that she would even call the police. Especially on him.

Their demeanour changed like lightning, much darker now and pissed off. “Some bastard has been sending our poor girl creepy emails and then followed her home and she saw them outside.” 

Creepy? Those emails were far from it. Small tokens to let her know he was there, and now she had acknowledged him. If Ellie really felt that way, she wouldn’t have responded. 

Hange, you liar.

Now Hange’s fists clenched, knuckles all white and shaking. “If I ever get my hands on them, the police will be the least of their worries.” 

Yeah, sure. Hange was smart, he knew that, but they were far too blindsided by everything else to even notice.

They looked down at his boots in the hallway, covered in drying, cracking mud. “You need to clean those! They’ll leave dry mud everywhere. Single life causing you to slip on your habits, Levi?” 

Point proven. “So you left her there on her own?” He changed the subject. 

“Jingles the cat is holding down the fort. I’ll only be five minutes and I’ll be back.” Hange headed for the base of the staircase, 

“Did you leave a note? Let her know?” He didn’t want her to wake up in a dark house alone, especially when this asshole was watching over her. 

“Nah! I won’t be long and she’s asleep!” Hange ascended without question, bounding up them like a Labrador. “Now I’ll just be a hot minute!”

“Don’t go through my stuff four eyes!” Why did he even keep Hange around?

“I won’t!”

They would, they always did. Nosey pain in the ass. Levi waited. Tapping his foot and checking his watch, kick Hange out would be the plan, check on Ellie through his window, then attempt to sleep. That would be if Hange emerged from his bedroom in the next thirty seconds.

Come to think of it, Hange had been much longer than the original five minutes. They were most definitely going through his things. Stomping up the stairs to chew Hange out, he heard something. With the bedroom door ajar, Hanges’ voice barely above a whisper, he snuck in to see her pacing and panicking. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” Hange hadn’t seen him yet. 

The computer screen had emails up. His emails. “Hange.” 

They spun around, eyes wide and watery. 

“Levi… what have you done?”

“I told you not to go through my things.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving only the sounds of Hange’s muffled screams before they grew quiet. 

Part 10 <- Part 11 -> Part 12

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tags - @levkuna @cottoncandyswirls @ssolarsystm

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manga, just my OC. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[ant1quar1an]

Don't Keep Me Out.

That's Not My Neighbour Utmv: Dust Sans Edition.

CW's: You're going to be confined in a room.

UNLESS THERE IS A MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING, THE REST IS "DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT"

TNMN IS A HORROR GAME; EXPECT THIS TO ENTERTAIN EVERYTHING THAT IT DOES

Life was never perfect.

No, scratch that, life fucking sucked. It was the year 1955 and everything was hell on earth- For you, at least. You were pretty sure the rich bastards in society were loving their lives.

You drummed your fingers absentmindedly on the bedside table before hauling yourself out of your roof-fixated gaze, barely casting glances at the mould long since begun to crawl across your room.

Living in the timeline open to multiversal travel was not a fun time– constantly loud as people clammered around and rushed to their ports several hours across the city to warp to whatever universe they’d been planning their vacations in.

It gave you a headache, honestly.

You shifted over to your dusty, unclean window and peered out at Mt. Ebott, still standing tall despite the weight of hundreds of millions of people scampering about on– and under– it.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

You sighed, rubbing at your face as your hand briefly dragged along the white, painted walls that covered your little apartment- if you could call it that.

Your gaze slowly travelled across the sparsely furnished room before landing on a letter with an indigo seal (which looked almost akin to a biblically accurate angel and the Deltarune combined). You felt your face screw up a bit, dread as heavy as led weighing you down as you wandered over to it.

The paper was rough and carried that indigo shimmer (and vague electrical buzz) all important, government-official things did.

You already knew what was inside– very vaguely, at least. While the public may have glossed over it, you certainly noticed people receiving such a letter and then going missing days later, nothing of them left behind.

But desperation was a crazy thing, and with the date deadlines of your electricity, water and food supply being cut off steadily approaching? You were desperate.

Everyone in the Silverstone apartments were.

With a soft exhale of air, you snapped open the seal, not even blinking at the ambient buzz the letter gave off.

Your gaze flicked over the contents, taking in the beautifully scripted felon’s claw font used, making a quiet, disgruntled hum in the back of your throat.

It went, very vaguely (to your interpretation), like this:

‘We do hope this finds you well.

This is a job being so graciously gifted to you by the assholes ruling this shithole. We need help patrolling the border and you’re going to do this job. There is no choice. We are aware of how much you’re struggling. So prepare your shit and travel over here, we’ll get you suited up.’

With a snort, you folded it up and shoved it into your pocket, scratching at your scalp before looking around. The only thing you dared to grab (aside from your papers, of course) was an old, ornate knife belonging to whatever ancestor had left it to you.

You glanced around your apartment for one final time before turning on your heel and walking out.

Getting to Mt Ebott wasn’t too much of a problem- considering it’s the only way that traffic seemed to be directed towards.

Not that you were driving.

You dodged out of the way of rambunctious children- rabbit monsters, you think?- laughing as they scramble through the crowds with nothing more than a grumble.

Ew, children.

It didn’t take you very long to come upon the highly-secured transportation HQ, either. 

You barely had time to hate all of the pristine richness being flamboyantly displayed everywhere before a commanding voice caught your attention- the intent clearly informing you that they were talking to you, specifically.

“Oi,” You looked over with a faux-cordial smile, practised from years of having to deal with assholes– only to pause when you laid eyes on glimmering pink-to-ocean-cyan scales and vibrant yellow irises staring back at you.

Oh shit they’re pretty-

“Name’s Aunkle. I’m the Warden around here. You’re the newbie, yeah?” At your nod, she displayed dagger-sharp teeth as a grin split her face, “Oh we’re going to have so much fun.”

And that is the story of how you ended up in the box Aunkle sorta just… shoved you into.

First day on the job, no prior information as to what the hell you had to do, nor anyone telling you where you’d be going afterwards. You flinched when the heavy metal door slammed behind you, swiftly followed by the sound of electronic locks sliding into place.

[ You have encountered your first choice. ]

[ Look around? ]

[ Mess with the electronics? ]

I would also like to clarify that the option with the most amount of comments in favor of will be chosen.

It is possible to die.

I may create a separate blog for this specifically.

You can also feel free to vote/comment through anon in my asks, if commenting is something you're not comfortable with.

Providing you don't ask for spoilers, any questions as to why something is the way it is, feel free to ask that as well ( You can also ask about characters, too )

[pluppsauthor]

OC Interview

Thanks to @themboty, @phoenixradiant, and @sunglasses-in-the-bentley for the tags! I'm not sure who to do this time around, we got a three part special this time. Anyway I will do... let me get a wheel Bene (Wounded Reflection), Akita, and David (both Hellfire)! (cw: swears)

Are you named after anyone?

"No. I asked my father what my name meant once. He shrugged and said it was a name. No deeper meaning." "No. Never heard of anyone with the same name as me." "Am I named after someone? ...I mean, it's a common name--not here, but just... generally. Can't really ask anyone so I don't know."

When was the last time you cried?

*deep sigh* "When my father died." "I don't know, and I don't really care. Why would I keep track of when I cry?" "Well, funny story, it was right after I almost died. When I was a given a second chance to live, I cried. But then I learned of the curse I had just taken on to be given such life. Then that joy turned to regret."

Do you have kids?

"No... although sometimes I wished I had chosen to start a family rather than fall into that pit of revenge." *Laughs* "How old do you think I am? At least you don't think I'm a kid." "Nah, not really interested in that stuff. Settling down ain't my style. I like travelling, I like doing things that having a family might... impede or make unavailable."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"No." "I don't think I know what that means, so... maybe." "Haha, yeah."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"Their aura. Not only can it inform me of their Frequency, should they posses one. But, it can gives a vague read on their strength and vitality. It's a good thing to know I think." "How easy it would be to pickpocket them. Also if I can outrun them." *sigh* "I'm not sure... I tend to assume the worst in people, so I guess I try to gauge if they have ill intentions."

What’s your eye colour?

"Brown." "I've only seen it in the reflections of broken shards of glass. It's dark, so maybe brown." "Grey. Although I SWEAR they look blue under the right light."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Movies? I'm not sure I've heard of that. So I guess a happy ending." "What? I don't care for stories." "Oh, that's a good one. I've been somewhere where they have a theatre. Not for plays, but for reels. Honestly, I don't think their too impressive, from an enjoyment perspective. But I do like scary stories, so I'll go with that."

Any special talents?

"Excluding my Frequency, no. However, due to the effects of my Frequency I am fairly resilient against the cold. More than the average person at least." "It isn't a special talent, but people underestimate me. A real talent is I can create energy from my hands. Not a single person has expected that, scares people off of me too." "Oh, where do I begin? I have a lot of tricks I know. Sleight of hand, misdirection, illusions, that sort of thing. I'm also very lucky, or at least that's what I say. In truth, I have a sort of sixth sense of certain things. It allows me to cheat at most games of chance. Don't tell anyone that, or else I'll probably be banned from every gambling bar I visit."

Where were you born?

"Shadecross. It's a... connecting town. Brings in a lot of trade. Try not to go there much, brings back bad memories." "Redwick. Awful place. Nobody cares for you there, they beat the downcast and feed off misery." "Leeside. Shithole of a place, I'll be honest. Not worth going back."

Do you have any pets?

"No. Vesa has a cat and I was with her for some time. But I'm not any more, and I still wouldn't consider that my pet." "No, it's another mouth to feed. It's already enough to feed myself, why would I take on another creature to care for?" "No, but I kind of want one! I think I travel too much, though. Plus, it's kind of hard to find the time to care for an animal, at least for me."

What sort of sports do you play?

"I'm not the biggest fan of sports. Me, my brother, and Ollie used to play outside a lot as kids, but not really sports." "None." "I know I said Leeside's a shithole--and it is!--but the people there are great. The kids I grew up used to play a bunch of games and sports. I think all of the names were made up so I don't know what they were."

How tall are you?

"178 centimetres." "Are you making fun of me? You better not be... *sigh* ...anyway, I don't know exact numbers. a little bit under 170 centimetres I think. Maybe 167, I don't remember." "Uh, I think it was... 180?? Centimetres, of course."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"My father taught me everything, Shadecross still doesn't have a school." *chuckles* "Are you assuming I went to school? I wouldn't be scrounging for scraps if I did." "Leeside didn't have one, a school that is. But now I'm doing a lot of learning and stuff myself. I think one thing I've enjoyed to some extent was learning a language so, whatever that field is called."

What is your dream job?

"I don't have one. I think I'd either like to keep doing what I'm doing or retire and only do what I have to. I'm not one for professions like learning a craft." "Not being homeless, I know that's not a job. I survive for myself I don't care for anything like money, it only serves as a way to get what I need." "Honestly, I don't have one. I'd rather make my money gambling then work a day in my life."

Missed doing these, I want to do more about the Hellfire cast. I love those funny little gremlins so much. Anyway, onto tags!

Gently tagging (np) @mk-writes-stuff, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @kbwritesstuff, @illarian-rambling, @theeccentricraven, @tildeathiwillwrite, and open tag for anyone that wants to hop in! ❤

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

exist without permission

yet another internet cat that got to sit on a motorcycle has died, when will the madness stop. wrote some self-indulgent canon x oc i'm not going to put in the tag. hella honestly, it's not very good or very ic, but it did get me to focus my brain on something. könig x oc, sfw, 1.2k words

König loves rats. He has loved them since he was a kid, growing up in a rotten shithole in the part of Schladming where tourists didn’t fucking dare to go. 

His girlfriend bought him two for his thirty-fourth birthday–a bonded pair of two fat boys, because males were the more affectionate sex in the species, one a little hooded fellow with a black mask of fur that rides down to his white shoulders and body, and a fat ball of black fur. 

Rivka had led him into his rental’s second bathroom with a grim face like she was going to show him a body she’d dismembered and needed help disposing (and, being the foolish, loving fuck he is, he was already trying to scrape up different darkweb solvent solutions he’d found over the years to dissolve everything down to bonemeal–even though she would’ve known better). 

“You have to be quiet, no sudden noises,” she’d warned him, and the little smile trying to tug at the corner of her thin mouth—revealing a slice of her sharp, silvery teeth—clued him in. She was excited. And there, in the bottom of the tub, was a spare bath towel, a bowl of water, and an overturned cardboard pet carrier. On the far side, facing the opposite wall, were two whiskered noses, stacked on top of one another.

König’s heart stopped beating so suddenly, he really thought it was some fatal shit. He’d spent most of the rest of the afternoon on the bathroom floor, cramped between tub and toilet, talking quietly to the young rats. Just dangling his hand near them, brushing his fingers over their soft, sleek backs, letting them get used to his voice, until they began to approach him. When they gripped the band of his watch, and then the cuff of his long sleeve to climb up his arm and explore, he let them.

He took a picture of them taking turns running the length of his thigh to his bent knee, and texted it to Rivka as she set up their big fucking enclosure in the spare room that served as his office. 

Eventually, the rats navigate their way into the hood of his sweatshirt with shocking ease, and nibble the ends of his hair until they fall asleep. König doesn’t cry about it, but he weathers a sick-and-warm tantrum of awe that fills his gut and rises up his throat as if to kill him by bodily shock. 

He loves rats. 

And they love him.

+

When it’s time for Milf and Dilf to eat, they have to be separated, or they will beat the blind fuck out of one another. König has no idea where the behavior came from, and the breeder Rivka bought them from refused to answer calls after the fact. They show no aggression otherwise, so loving and dependent upon each other that a separation of an hour causes them to worry and sicken. It is simply at feeding time. 

They’re largely free range rats, allowed to roam the house at liberty all day, and König only has to click his tongue to summon them from where they are playing, but it’s rare that he even has to. The little darling shits are so intelligent that they understand their schedule, and at 2000 he and the boys will more often than not end up going to the kitchen at the same time, the two of them darting between his feet. They race ahead, stop, look back to check on him, and race again.

They eat better than he normally would, if he didn’t cook for Rivka. Fancy rat food, a bisl of yogurt, kale. Sometimes, raspberries, if the fucking things don’t mold on him before he can even shove them in the fridge. They love sugar, but sugar will kill them. 

Where König is too weak to deny him things that drip death into his body sweet-slow, the rats are helpless, and don’t know better, and can’t control themselves. He has to withhold for them. 

Because they are small, because their eyes are so wet and kind. Because they want him and need him and depend upon him to take care of them. 

Because he loves them.

And because they love him. 

He scoops Dilf into his hoodie pocket, and Milf into his hood. He carries them to find Rivka—who is lying in the big bed on her side, with her legs crossed, buried in a smutty book delivered vis-a-vis Kindle screen—and hands off Milf and his bowl. She clicks her eyes up, and pushes into his hip with the ball of her foot. “Hi kultsi.”

“I’m taking Dilf with me to my computer,” he says. He stands. He waits. 

It takes a second, but he can tell when the thought clicks in her head, like the slide of a bolt-action driving another bullet home. She folds her arm behind her head, disappearing the entire Kindle behind her back, and frowns her apology. “I’m not playing Sims tonight. My mods are all broken after the horse ranch expansion, so I just left my laptop on your shelf. But I’ll come watch you dick around, if you don’t mind.”

His expression snits slightly, but he forces it to smooth. Of course, he doesn’t fucking mind. What he fucking minds is not being near her, even if they aren’t talking or doing anything. He really fucking minds it when they’re both home and he doesn’t have her in his line of sight for longer than twenty minutes.

But Rivka minds it, too, and they always come to find each other when that minute mark draws near. 

He runs his hand up her ankle to squeeze her toned, tattooed calf, and nods when he’s taken too long to respond as he chews apart his thoughts, her scope-glass eyes training on his face. “Sounds good. Just going to fuck around in Satisfactory for a while.”

“You and those fucking Swede games, Lee,” she grunts under her breath, shaking her head and turning back to her reading. Can frog march the Special Jaeger out of Finland, etc. 

A smirk cuts across his warped mouth, and he bends down to kiss her shin. He leaves when he sees the corner of her mouth twitch again. 

Dilf sits on his desk, going mad on his dinner, pausing only to wipe both paws over his face like a prayer to get yogurt off his fur. At one point he holds a little piece of kale in a small fist while he does it, and König about dies. 

Maybe fifteen minutes later, Milf rides in on Rivka’s shoulder, looking sleepy. She pulls up her desk chair and kicks over the old milk crate she uses as an ottoman, setting herself up to König’s left. Once she’s settled, Milf stirs, standing on hind legs, sniffing the air, and Rivka automatically puts a hand on König’s thigh, creating a ramp for Milf to run down to reunite with Dilf. 

And König settles in. His girlfriend reads something condemnably filthy next to him, glancing at his screen, and his rats sleep in a warm pile on his lap. 

[roxxy-ll]

Can I have advice? Lol.

I live in a shithole of a tiny village, like under 500 people live here and I hate 90% of them. Longass story but small town is a small town, what you don't know about yourself, everybody else does.

I moved away in 2011, then came back half by accident in 2018. I should have just fucking stayed. I mean I got my ass handed to me that fall and tried to wrap my car around a tree before I almost frenchkissed a semitruck, so I just had to get back on my feet I guess.

My paternal grandma died in october 2018, it was expected, she had been a vegetable since 2015 and her hand was in first stages of gangrene. But she was the best one of my grandparents. And I was already in a frail place.

When your paternal grandmas sister-in-law has to hold you back so you won't claw out the eyes of the guy working for the church you know you should leave town.

In my defence he:

1: Forgot/didn't care about grandmas soulringing*. Didn't answer phone when grandad called, grandad, who can take tasan two steps without falling over walked to the priests house and told him, priest called him, then he answered. Never apologized, chewed gum and looked at his phone thru the entire ordeal.

2: When talking about burial plots, he casually asked; And where do want to dig the hole for her. We were in church, had this happened today I would have thrown hands with god if I needed to. I was too soft back then.

3: When asked about burialplots at the cemetary he gave us the option of a plot right beside where the pumpstation for wastewater is. Isolated and far from the other graves. I voiced my opinion, and said I will not leave her here. I asked for a plot on the other side of the cemetary. "Well, usually those plots are saved for people who contributed to the village". I took two steps forward and had to be held back by my grandmas sister in law.

Do you know how embarrasing it is for a 25yo who wrestled horses daily to be held back by a 78yo woman who's half as big as you are? I will get my whoop ass one day. One way or another.

He never apologized btw, and I have since learned he holds a grudge because his grandfather got played by my great grandfather in the 1920s. Grow tf up, I hold grudges too but not for my fucking ancestors. Jesus christ.

Also when you stand in line to the fishcar at christmas and you smirk when imagining the other townsfolks obituary you need to get a grip. It's not their fault they never ventured further than Vaasa.

Then this goddamn gem.

"I heard you DON'T have multiple sclerosis, you just have a herniated disc." First of all, who the fuck are you, seriously. Second of all, how the fuck do you know that I have MS in the first place, third of all, I have both. I have tried calling people who has been DEAD for years! That's how well I keep up with people. And this person, who I don't know, somehow knows my medical history??? Get fucked. Turns out my maternal grandma had squealed to the wrong person.

Now, I moved my horse in october to another town (right on the way to and from work so no biggie), and since then I've felt more and like I don't want to stay here.

Without going into too many details, the move got blown all the fuck out of proportion and ended with a bad flare up of my illness (which in turn led to me getting steroids and sytostatic medication, yay all the lost weight came back with a vengance🤸‍♀️), high bloodpressure, liver ATL thru the roof and what I can only assume is some sort of PTSD.

Kept no contact with former BO who tonight was at my door demanding to see me. I had a bad panic-attack, didn't open the door and just let my dog handle it (He's guarding the house, let yourself in without my permission and you will get hurt. Fuck around and find, I wish a bitch would). Next time I'll call the cops. I should have done it already but they have a busy weekend and honestly, a drunk driver or a drunk wife/childbeater is a whole lot more important than my drama.

Heard thru the grapevine that she and another neighbor keep track when I leave for work and when I come home, and based on this data they know that I have sold my horse and don't go to the barn.

I have not sold her. I know the fate that awaits her if I do. Warmblood trotters are worth less than dirt and I would rather have her in the ground than risk that. I am at the barn 4-6 days a week, with a 5 day average. Depending on if the co-rider is riding her or not.

So I should move. I should never have fucking moved back to this godforsaken hemorrhoid in satans asshole to begin with.

Now, here's my pickle.

My house is built in the 1800s, renovated in the 1950s (after SOMEONE set fire to the second floor) and in the 1980s (which I have since learned is actually a "blackbuild"*), the land has been in our family for as far back as we can go in our ancestry (1650s or something). It is in dire need of renovation and I am so uncertain if I even wanna stay here anymore. It is currently owned by my dad and my uncle.

If I move, it will most likely fall into disrepair, none of my siblings or my cousins are interested, and in all honesty, I don't blame them.

They could put it out for sale but this area is notoriously hard to sell in and you usually have to go down in price atleast 50% from the original price, neighbors went down 75% and they only sold to get rid of it.

If I renovate it's gonna cost me atleast 200k euros and I can get a wholeass nice, newer house in another place for 150k euros.

As a single income household there is no bank in the country that will give me a loan.

Anyone wanna get married? lol.

I think I love the sentimental part of my house more than I love thought of it. It's big, it's old, it's got shit neighbors (two of whom literally collect shit like crashed cars) in a shithole of a village that I honestly wouldn't mind if it just fell into the sea.

I have the option of moving to my grandparents second apartment in the next county over, but then I have to live nextdoor to my maternal grandad, and I would literally rather set myself on fire. It's 2am and I will not have finished that rant before the sun comes up but the gist of it is that we're only related on paper.

It's a shit situation all around and I have the options of ebola on steroids or a unholy campylo-salmonella situation. Either way I'll probably die.

Help a bitch out.

Also important to note, moving to an apartment is not an option. I have a dog who guards and would never shut up. At this point I can't afford it either.

*When someone passes away, they ring the churchbells to tell the town that someone belonging to the church passed away, they call this soulringing.

*Blackbuild is they strayed so far from the blueprint that it's no longer considered okay from a legal standpoint.

[kingfishered]

Johnny rolled his eyes at Simon’s ‘description’ of the house. “I asked wha’ it’s like, not what the bleedin’ listing fer it was,” he said with fond exasperation. He didn’t think he was going to get anything better than that out of him though, so he had to make do and imagine from that basic description.

He had always imagined Simon living in a flat in some city, probably either London or Manchester, so to find out he lived in a bungalow in a lovely neighbourhood was a bit of a shock, though not an unpleasant one. It sounded like an idyllic little place, something that was so completely opposite to Ghost that he found himself somehow even more excited to see this place, to explore this corner of Simon’s life that he had apparently predicted completely wrong. It sounded like someone else’s life entirely.

Also, he’d mentioned there was only one bed in the house…

The idea of doing something as normal and boring as going food shopping suddenly sounded like best day plans he’d ever made, if he was doing it with Simon. And going on an IKEA trip with him, too? It sounded perfect, like a couple moving into their first house together.

The thing that really stood out to him, though, was Simon’s mention of ‘every time’. Every time? Like he was already planning for this to be a regular thing, Johnny staying around at his, like it was something they might do every time they had leave. Or maybe even just take leave, unprompted, to spend some time away from work with each other… Now wasn’t a nice thought?

Simon seemed almost shy to be sharing this part of himself with Johnny, like he was nervous he might judge him for it. Which was a ridiculous idea, honestly, because… well, okay, depending on what he saw he might judge him, but it was never going to put him off. If it turned out this place was a shithole? Or that it was as undecorated as his room on base? Well, Johnny would just have to help him redo the place.

As best he could with half his bones broken, that was.

“Aye, that sounds perfect,” he agreed, realising he hadn’t spoken yet, too caught up in his dreaming, “And ye better be lettin’ me cook, I’ve seen some o’ yer attempts here. Disgraceful.”

Johnny was going to reply nicely, until Simon called him that.

“Well, I was gonna say she will be, but maybe just fer tha’ I’ll tell her I dinnae wanna go,” he scoffed, “Bastard.”

But, because he was nice, he still gave Simon a proper answer.

“She’ll be fine wi’ it, don’ worry. She, uh… ye probably already guessed she knows I, y’know, have a thing for ye, bu’ I reckon she’s probably worked out it’s mutual by now, too,” he thought specifically of them staring into each other’s eyes with Johnny’s hand pressed against his heart, “So… when I tell ‘er I’m staying wi’ you, she’ll probably work out we… talked about it.”

He really wasn’t sure what language to be using here. Made it official? Had they done that? Was Simon alright with Johnny calling him his boyfriend, provided it was not in a work context and would not get them into trouble?

God, he hadn’t even thought about that yet. Their relationship was definitely not allowed. How on earth were they going to dodge around that?

Simon had to admit that he was glad that Johnny didn’t get upset like he had begun to worry he might. 

He should have known better, in hindsight. Of course, he took it as a challenge. Why wouldn’t he? Johnny never took what he said seriously, even if he wanted him to. Most of the time, at least.

And, yes. Simon was just lying to mess with him.

It had been a noncommittal comment, at first. Just a way to fill the silence that was biting at the back of his mind. Then? Well, he thought his shoulder was pretty comfy to sleep on. Many times had he drifted off, sitting upright, with his head craned awkwardly to one side. 

It was hardly his fault if Johnny had misread the situation, now, was it?

Also, there was a little, pervasive part of him that loved hearing Johnny get jealous. If he got like that, so wonderfully bent out of shape, over something as simple as thinking someone else might be napping on his shoulder, he couldn’t wait to see the reaction to how people interacted with him without the mask.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was the opposite of ugly, and even though Johnny seemed to fully agree with him now, it still always took him by surprise how… eager people were around him.

Maybe it was just because he was tall, too.

But, the smile that Johnny gave him completely erased the rest of his thoughts from his head until all that remained was Johnny. The soft curl of his lips, the way his cheeks squished up and crinkled the corners of his eyes…

At some point, Simon would have to get a decent picture of him. He could print it, keep it tucked away in his mask so that whenever he took it off, he’d see him.

That would stop it from feeling quite as jarring every time, the shift from Ghost to Simon, he was sure.

Johnny, despite initially trying to play it cool, was clearly excited about the prospect of seeing where Simon lived during his time off when Price forced him from the safe confines of base under the guise of ‘needing to go and actually enjoy his time off rather than spending it doing paperwork’.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit bad to have to crush that excitement.

“It’s not much,” he began, though that was probably being modest. It was barely fucking anything. “It’s up in Chester, ‘bout two hour’s drive from base. It’s, uh… It’s a lovely neighbourhood. Detached bungalow, one bed, one bathroom, and a washroom by the front door. Good kitchen and the front room has a big bay window. Decent garden, too.”

His brows furrowed. Simon didn’t really know why his description of his house was almost word for word what had been written on the real estate website. Oh, no. Actually, that was a lie. He did know why that was his description of it, it was because he’d barely seen the house himself. He’d been on leave barely a handful of times since buying it, cash upfront so there was no paper trail, and when he did go back there, he’d rarely use more than two rooms.

Silence fell between them, and Simon couldn’t help but feel a little bit sheepish about taking Johnny to his house with him. It wasn’t going to be what Johnny expected, he was sure of that. 

But, he hoped that he’d like it anyway.

“Don’t have a lot of stuff there, really, and we’ll have to go food shopping once we’re settled anyway,” he continued, offering a small, shy yet contented smile. “Could pop into an Ikea, buy you some towels, a toothbrush. Stuff like that, you can just leave it all at my house, then. Won’t have to bother dragging bags back and forth every time.”

Making such calm, domestic plans should have scared Simon as it usually did. But, because he was making them with Johnny, he might have even dared to say he felt a bit excited

Just a bit, though. Simon, as expected for his cool and collected exterior, was also incredibly normal about the idea of spending upwards of months alone with Johnny.

He could see him as much as he wanted, and be close to him as much as he wanted.

He could kiss him as much as he wanted, too.

Simon swallowed, hard, and stared down at his lap. Thank fuck for the blush keeping all the blood in his face, otherwise, he was certain the thought of what else might happen would have made it take a sudden, southern turn.

“You think your mum’ll be alright with it?” he asked quietly, wondering if Johnny was expecting the invitation to extend to his family, as well. He couldn’t actually imagine that he would want that. There would be a severe limit on the things they could do if Soap’s mother and sisters were also around the house. “Don’t want to take her little Johnny away from her, ey?”

[gvfgal]

1. Homeward Bound

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

18+ minors evaporate!!!

A/n: As promised, here’s chapter one! I’m doing things a little different this time, telling the story more from Jake’s point of view than the readers. It works well for this story, and I think you guys will enjoy the way it plays out. Also, no disrespect to Genoa, NV! Never been, I’m sure it’s a lovely place, but for the sake of my story, it’s a shithole.

Content Warnings: Drinking & Smoking (constant theme throughout), language, mentions of death, Jake and reader are a couple of sluts but we love them for it, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (please don’t be like them), fingering (f rec.), dirty talk, Not really a warning, but I use the words tavern/ bar/ and or “Riley’s” interchangeably, they’re all the same place.

Word Count: 6.2k

Jake always loved the open road. It was the only time he truly felt like himself, the only time he felt truly invincible. The last time he traveled down Route 95, however, he was headed in the opposite direction, escaping the very life he was about to throw himself back into.

After Ace’s visit and a night of drinking, Jake finally settled on the decision to return home. He put most of his belonging into storage, only packing what would fit on the back of his bike. As far as his job, he wasn’t too worried. He had a sit down with Hank a couple days before he left and explained the situation. “You know you always have a job should you decide to come back,” Hank told him. Jake turned in his shop keys, and that was the end of that.

On the night before his departure, he tracked Kira down at some seedy motel and told her he’d be leaving town, to which she began to cry, begging him not to leave. In all honestly, it made him want to vacate even more.

The next morning, before the sun even had a chance to rise, Jake was on the road, homeward bound.

The desert stretched out before him, a vast expansion of rugged beauty underneath the unforgiving sun. The roar of his motorcycle engine echoed through the emptiness, punctuating the silence that came with the open road. As he ventured deeper into the heart of Nevada, the land seemed to hold it’s breath, anticipation simmering in the air. Dust clouds billowed in his wake as he leaned into the twists and turns, feeling as if he were becoming one with the machine.

Finally, after a couple more hours of riding, the small wooden sign came into view, signaling his arrival.

‘Welcome to Genoa. Nevada’s oldest town.’

The outskirts of the tiny dot on the map loomed into view, it’s familiar silhouette etched against the sky. He slowed his pace as he entered, taking in the scenery that was almost identical to the way it was when he left. His town, a decaying relic in the desert, clung stubbornly to it’s dilapidated existence. The streets stretched out before him like veins choked with neglect, lined with crumbling facades and and fading signs that once promised prosperity. Shuttered business stood as silent sentinels, bearing witness to the ebb and flow that was Genoa.

Nature, too, had woven it’s touch, with wildflowers defiantly blooming in forgotten corners. A gentle reminder to Jake that even in death, life finds a way. The sight filled him with a mixture of disgust and an odd kind of loyalty. Despite it’s decay it held the indelible marks of his roots, memories were etched deep within it’s neglected corners. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, Genoa was still home, a bitter reminder of the life he’d never be able to escape.

Using only his memory, Jake continued through town in search of Ace’s house. Just when he thought he was lost, the row of bikes lined up outside of an old rundown manufactured home proved his memory wasn’t so rusty after all. He parked near the end of the line before making his way up to the front door. He could already hear the rambunctious group of men far before he was on the porch, and he figured knocking would be no use. Besides, it was only Ace’s house, and Jake knew he was welcomed in as if he lived there himself, which he did, at one point.

When he swung the door open, the buzz of conversation came to an abrupt halt, and every head in the room turned to look at him, staring as if they’d seen a ghost.

Ace was the last to look at him, and when he did, a large grin spread across his face.

“Jake! You made it!”

The rest of the men erupted into cheers, glad to see their beloved Barbarian prince return.

“Jake, you remember Steeljaw right?” Ace bellowed as he gave him a shove forward into the crowd.

Jake smiled, “how could I forget? It’s good to see you man.”

Steeljaw was never very affectionate, and the life altering incident he encountered did little to change that, if anything, it had an opposite effect. But when it came to Jake, there was always a soft spot. He tolerated most people, but Jake, he actually liked. He could never figure out why, and in the end, he never tried to.

Jake expected a rough handshake or a punch in the shoulder, but was pleasantly caught off guard when Steeljaw scooped him up into a hug.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Ace went around reintroducing Jake to the guys, each of them in turn giving Jake hugs and handshakes and ‘welcome backs’. Hellhound. Snakebite. Madcap. Django. Renegade. And so many more. With each of these men, Jake carried a special memory. He loved each and every one of them, that was something he couldn’t deny. There were his family, other than his mom (another interesting story for another day), the Barbarians were all that Jake had. They all seemed to really miss him, and he missed all of them too.

Well, almost all of them.

“And of course, Nicky No Name.”

Ace pushed the tall slender guy forward, mouthing a ‘play nice’ to Jake behind his back. Jake’s disdain for Nicky went far beyond the fact that he was an overall awful person. For him, Nicky’s face was a reminder of the loss of the one person who’s presence he missed the most in that room, and it wasn’t Rex.

Jake gave Nicky a tight lipped smile, “Triple N, we meet again.” He knew how much he hated that nickname, which is why it felt that much better to say it.

Nicky narrowed his eyes at Jake with a scowl, before correcting it almost immediately. “Jake Kiszka. Prince of the Barbarians.”

Nicky also knew how much Jake hated that nickname.

Ace knew that was just about as polite as the two could get, so he quickly dismissed Nicky and returned his attention to Jake.

“I’m surprised you actually came.”

“You and me both.”

“How was the ride?”

Jake shrugged, “long.”

Ace chuckled, knowing good and well that anytime Jake was on the road, he had a blast. But he was never one to admit those kinds of things out loud, so he left it be.

“What do ya say we head over to your old man’s house? Get that out the way now?”

Dread crept into Jake’s veins, entwining with grief, as he realized that returning to his childhood home stirred a peculiar turmoil within him. Overshadowing even the weight of the impending funeral. He swallowed it down though, if only momentarily, to respond to Ace.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

The men hopped on their bikes and began making the short ride down to the old trailer park that was once Jake’s kingdom. Cactus Creek Village, quite the kingdom to be sure. The chipped paint on the entry sign proof of just how much the place had to offer.

Images of the past flicked through his minds eye as he inched his way through. The laughter that once echoed through the trees, riding his bike with his friends, pretending they were motorcycles until the street lights came on. All the joys of his youthful innocence. But beneath the surface of those fond recollections lay layers of pain, unsealed wounds, and fractured connections. Those feeling were all the more solidified as the house came into view.

A house whose walls were etched with both solace and strife. As he put his bike in park out front, it felt like a collision of two worlds, grief and nostalgia intertwining in an intricate dance.

“Look the same?” Ace asked as he got off his bike and came to stand with Jake.

He squinted his eyes at the structure, noticing that most of the damage that he left behind was still there. “Too much.”

His eyes grazed the lackluster trailer park with a neutral expression. Scenes of his complicated childhood played like mirages on front of him, sublime memories that still haunted his dreams. He wondered for a moment if coming back there was a bad idea.

Several feet away, the door of a trailer swung open, hitting the wall so hard that the sound sent a stray cat scampering from underneath the disheveled porch. You stepped outside, an already burning cigarette hanging between your plump lips with disinterest. Those lips, so perfectly pink and inviting, stole the air from Jake’s lungs. His mind flashed briefly to the things that mouth could possibly do behind closed doors.

But he wasn’t able to focus on that for long before his eyes began to take in your attire (or the lack there of). A wife beater, clearly with no bra underneath. Your nipples stood erect against the thin fabric. Your breasts were in no way large, but just big enough for a handful, and that was good enough for him. Your bottom half was no more modest, a pair of gray cotton bikini underwear, nothing more. The curve of your hips was only slight, so slight, some may not have even counted it as a curve at all. But whatever the hell it was, Jake liked it, really liked it.

A pair of brown cowboy boots covered you from the mid calf, down. The scuffed leather on the toes led him to believe that you wore them often.

You were unaware of their presence at first, making your way down the stairs mindlessly before your eyes finally locked with Jake’s.

Yours were red and glossy, not from tears, that much was certain. Jake was sure that you’d realize your exposure and rush back inside to hide yourself like any normal girl would do. But he was quick to find out you were anything but normal.

You blinked once at him, expressionless in your affliction, and raised you fingers to your lips to remove the cigarette. Your nails were chipped midnight blue, hands appearing like fragile petals of a flower. You ashed the cigarette onto the ground, eyed never straying from his.

Admittedly, your stare was a bit intimidating, heavy and laden with something so intriguing it was as if you were hypnotizing him where he stood. You wedged the cigarette back into your mouth before tearing your eyes from him, returning to the task you set out to accomplish.

“Who’s that?” Jake asked, never removing his stare from where you were. He watched as you bent over to pick up a sun bleached watering can, surprised at the size of your ass. He hadn’t expected you to be carrying something like that behind you.

Ace shuffled up beside him and gave you a good once over, “that’s Riley’s girl. When he got sick, she came down here, kinda popped up out of nowhere, to take care of him till he passed. Never left after that.”

Jake turned and looked at him with a furrowed brow, “Riley’s dead?”

Ace laughed, “you really have been gone a long time, haven’t you? He’s been gone about two years now. Pancreatic cancer. He fought long and hard,” he nodded his head in your direction, “she took over the tavern too.”

Jake’s eyes found you again as you lazily poured water onto the foliage outside of the trailer. For it to be Nevada, you did a great job of keeping up your garden.

“She’s a bit quiet, doesn’t really talk to us much, but she’s a sweet girl.” He retrieved a key from his pocket and placed it in Jake’s hand, “I gotta get back to the guys before they burn my damn house down. Take all the time you need.” He hopped back on his bike and his engine roared to life, “we’re all hanging at the tavern later, if you wanna stop by.”

Jake nodded and watched as he backed out of the driveway and started down the road. Once he was out of sight, he turned back to watch you water your plants, his eyes tracking every dip and curve of your body.

When you noticed him staring again, you stood straight and faced him, raising your middle finger.

He smirked. Spitfire. Giving his dad’s house one more look, he decided that wasn’t a hill he was ready to conquer, not yet anyway. Instead, there was a wide open Nevada desert calling his name, and that was a call Jake could never stray away from. Tucking the key away in his jeans, Jake mounted his bike and cranked it to life. He pulled into the street until he was parallel with your trailer. You watched as a mischievous grin appeared on his face, his gloved hand raising to shoot you the finger right back. His bike screeched as he pulled off at a ridiculous speed, kicking up dirt behind him.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him drive away. Using context clues, you figured he was your neighbor Rex’s son. You’d heard stories about him from the gang hanging around the bar. The Barbarian Prince, they’d joke. You’d spent plenty of time with Rex, and although he was always pleasant with you, you knew any son of his had to be trouble.

But you were a magnet for trouble. It’s allure and consequences were woven into the very fabric of your existence. Trouble had been your steadfast companion, the architect of your tumultuous journey.

Trouble, is what landed you in Genoa in the first place.

But when it came to the mysterious beloved Barbarian, trouble never looked so good.

Most of the gang was already at Riley’s by the time Jake arrived. He’d spent his afternoon riding through the winding outskirts of Genoa, allowing himself some much needed alone time before the next few days ahead. Pulling his tasseled hair into a messy low bun, Jake nudged the door open with his boot and stood at the threshold to scan the bar.

He quickly spotted Ace’s large frame seated at one of the barstools, but just as quickly, he noticed you. Your hair tied in a messy bun on the top of your head as you hustled behind the bar, mixing up drinks for the waiting Barbarians scattered about the space. A group of them huddled around the pool table drank and talked loudly, demanding their voices to be heard over the loud rock music playing from the old fashioned jukebox positioned in the corner. Jake gave them a quick assessment before returning his attention back to you.

You were wearing a muscle tank, if he had to guess, the same one from earlier, only this time you decided to put a bra on. Good Girl. The hot pink straps peaked from underneath the tank ever so slightly, he liked that even more. With a smirk plastered on his face, Jake made his way through the dimly lit bar, perching himself on the stool beside Ace and patting him on the shoulder, his eyes staying trained on you. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too busy fulfilling another drink order for a waiting couple. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering your body that, mixed with the contrastingly bright lights of the neon signs behind the bar, made you appear like an angel on earth. Glowing like a beacon, a beacon calling directly to Jake.

Before even glancing at him, you were talking. “What can I get for you?”

Jake chuckled at your obliviousness as he leaned forward onto the bar.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.”

When you finally turned to look at him, realization setting in, your face dropped, but Jake’s never faltered. He was a lot more handsome up close, something you hadn’t expected, but still relished in.

“Well, if it isn’t my Peeping Tom neighbor,” you smirked, wiping your hands on the towel that hung at your hip.

Your voice was like like honey. Smooth, rich, and pleasing to Jake’s ears. The very sound of it melded with the music filling the room made the hairs on his arms stand upright. It was as if every word you spoke was uttered with the intention of seduction, and it was working.

Your right eyebrow peaked on your face as you waited for his reply, arms crossing over your chest.

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one that came out of the house half naked,” he teased, his eyes boring directly into yours.

“You didn’t have to stare,” you quipped right back.

Jake shrugged, “how could I not?”

His response stunned you into silence, but not in a negative way. Being the object of his gaze, as good looking as he was, was enticing.

You’d never let him know that, though. So instead, you rolled your eyes and turned to pluck at the screen behind you.

“You want your tab opened, or closed?”

Jake was staring daggers into your back, still wearing that sly grin. His eyes traveled down to your ass, being hugged tightly by the black denim shorts you wore. They traveled further, all the way down your exposed legs and back up.

“Open…”

Ace turned his attention to the two of you, patting Jake on the shoulder, “no need, first rounds on me, sunshine.”

You smiled sweetly at Ace before pulling a glass down to prepare Jake’s drink.

“So, you’re Rex’s kid?” you asked.

Jake nodded, “the one and only. I think.”

You chuckled at his statement, knowing that when it came to Barbarians, that was probably a real concern. “Sorry to hear about his passing.”

He gave off another shrug as he retrieved his usual duo, a cigarette and his lighter, “wish I could say the same.”

This comment may have been off putting to others, but to you it was more than relatable.

You finished pouring his drink and slid it across the counter on a thin coaster.

“Well, he’ll be missed around here, anyway,” you glanced around the bar before focusing on Jake’s face, “but it seems like everyone’s glad to have you back.”

Jake’s attention was focused on getting his cigarette lit, and once it was, he looked back at you, noticing the way you were drinking in his features,his lips curled up around it.

“Glad to be back.”

He took his glass and raised it towards you, a silent confirmation that you were the reason for his satisfaction. You held each other’s gaze for what felt like forever, both grinning, yet silently assessing the other.

“Why do I feel like you’re nothing but trouble?” you questioned Jake, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Jake freed his mouth and leaned into you, and you instinctively did the same, your faces now hovering inches away from each other. The smell of tobacco on his breath was so intoxicating you could’ve kissed him in that very moment.

“Why do I feel the same about you?”

For a brief moment, you though he actually was about to kiss you, your mouths so close, all it took was one small movement to initiate. But just before it got to that point, Jake pulled away, standing from his seat and crossing over the the jukebox.

You watched as he flipped through the catalog, taking a sip of his drink in the process. Finally, Lick it Up by Kiss began playing loudly as Jake increased the volume. Turning back to you with that same smirk from before. He began nodding his head in an animated fashion, causing a real laugh to bubble up from inside of you. Something that didn’t happen often.

“He really is Rex’s boy!” Ace shouted over the music, calling out to everyone in the bar.

He raised his glass as everyone cheered, following suit. And once again, Jake looked to you, raising both his eyebrows and his glass.

You shook your head with a smile, “trouble.”

It was well after two am by the time you got off. Most of the gang had stayed right until close, and with only you and your coworker Angela left by the end of the night, closing took a lot longer than usual. And to make matters worse, you were now stranded at the gas station. Your old clunker had only managed to make it two miles up the road before it sputtered out, and now, it refused to start.

The cold desert air chilled your bones as you did your best to inspect under the hood, but with little to no knowledge about cars, you weren’t hopeful.

“Raggedy piece of shit,” you cursed as you kicked at one of the tires. You pulled your windbreaker tighter around your body and leaned back against the car, debating on whether or not you could conquer the mile and a half walk back home.

But just as the idea started becoming the best option, the sound of a motorcycle could be heard coming up the road. You watched as the driver pulled into the gas station, knowing well that it had to be a Barbarian, they were the only gang in the area. But what you didn’t expect was for that Barbarian to be Jake, still smiling as he pulled up beside you.

“You don’t look too happy.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but his smile was beginning to grow on you. So much so, that you could ignore his smart ass comment.

“My car won’t start.”

Jake turned off his bike and climbed off, not saying a word as he leaned down to look into the engine compartment.

You took in the way the muscles of his arms flexed as he gripped tightly on the sides of the car. The thought of him holding you that way sending a separate chill down your spine

After a few moments of inspection, he faced you again, just as you diverted your eyes to something else.

“Where do you want me to start?”

Your dropped your head into the palm of your hand, “fuck.”

Jake chuckled, “it’s alright. I might be able to fix it,” he sounded hopeful, though by just looking at it, he' knew it might be beyond saving, “have to get it towed first, though.”

You cursed again, you didn’t have the money for that.

“But for the time being, I can give you a ride. After all, we are neighbors.”

You glanced backup at his smirking face, wondering if he ever wore any other expression, “on your bike?”

He nodded, “what, you scared or something?”

Quite frankly, you couldn’t have been further from. Excited? A little turned on? Yes. Scared? Never.

“What’s your name?” you asked, deciding to ignore his statement. He took a step towards you and extended his hand, “I’m Jake. And you are?” You shook his hand softly and grinned mischievously, “wouldn’t you like to know?”

You removed your hand and climbed onto his bike, making sure to arch your back more than necessary.

That image of you on his bike that way was the first time Jake actually believed here might be a god. You were all too regal, even in your most natural state, he’d even dare to say perfect. And something so perfect had to be meticulously constructed by an all knowing power. He didn’t even care if he knew your name.

“I gotta run inside. Stay pretty.”

He left without another word, dissapearing into the store and leaving you out in the cold air. You waited patiently for him to return, and when he did, he climbed on in front of you. His already familiar scent filled your nostrils, and without though, you moved your body closer to his. Once he brought the bike to life you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his torso, bringing you a comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Will you be alright without a helmet?” he asked, shouting over the roaring engine.

“It’s only a mile and a half. I’ll be fine.”

He put the bike in drive, patting your thigh twice, “well then, hang on.”

He pulled out into the street slowly and began making his way down the long stretch of road. Releasing your hair from its bun, you leaned into Jake’s ear, “you can’t make this thing go any faster?” You were aware that he was doing the gentlemanly thing and taking it easy, but feeling the rush of the wind and the vibration of the road traveling through your body had you craving more. The freeing feeling that speeding down the road on the back of a bike was enticing, but so was the danger of it. That feeling of gambling life itself for a few seconds of exhilaration, it turned you on, the tense energy radiating off of you and onto Jake.

You couldn’t see it, but he smirked, reving up the engine as he began picking up speed, causing your adrenaline to spike. Once the deteriorating buildings that lined the street started becoming a blur, you released you hold on Jake’s waist and spread you arms out wide, tilting your head back to greet the night sky. The wind whipped your hair across your face, blinding you every few seconds, but that didnt deter you one bit.

A genuine laugh escaped Jake’s lips, “you’re a wild one,” he exclaimed, his voice barely audible against the roaring wind.

Cactus Creek was still when you and Jake returned, the loud hum of his engine feeling out of place in the quiet night. Jake could’ve easily parked in his own driveway and let you make the 50 feet walk back to your place, but instead, he parked right outside your front door, a little too close to your flowers for your liking. After helping you off, the two of you stood face to face. The thrill of the ride had yet to wear off, and all those feelings you felt while in the back of his bike were still very much alive inside of you.

“You seemed to have enjoyed yourself,” Jake chuckled as he removed his own hair from its bun. Never in your life had you seen such tangled locks look so good, you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it, preferably with his head between your legs.

A small grin appeared on your face as you took a step closer to him, “what can I say? I love a good ride.” He pulled you close as soon as you were in arms reach, letting one of his hands snake around your hip, just shy of your ass. His opposite hand found your hair, pulling back on it gently until you were looking him in the eyes.

“Is that right?”

Your lips ghosted against his as you spoke, “who doesn’t?”

Jake liked that answer. If the twitching of his cock that was pressed against your leg didn’t give it away, the look on his face sure did. His mouth dropped to press firm kisses along your collarbone. Your eyes fell closed when his tongue appeared to lick a long strip up your neck. He continued until his mouth was hovering by your ear.

“Something’s telling me you’re no good for me,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe to punctuate, “should probably stay away. But somehow that only makes me want you more.”

You pulled away to look him in the eye, shaking your head solemnly, “you don’t want me, Jake. I’m not the kind worth loving.”

He took a mental note of that statement, replaying it over and over in his head fo months to come. But for the time being, it remained tucked away. He smirked at you, “who said anything about falling in love?”

The look of lust in his eyes and the grip he still had on your waist was the nail in the coffin. With both hands, you took ahold of his fac and crashed your lips into his, nothing but primal desire behind it. He kissed you back immediately, his tongue delving into your mouth like it were seeking out shelter in the rain. You all but climbed him, tangling you legs around him as he made his way up the steps. You never locked your door, there was nothing in that place worth stealing, and your hand searched blindly behind you to open the door.

Once inside, Jake quickly cleared your entryway table— its contents clambering to the ground as you pushed the door shut. He sat you down roughly as his mouth returned to your neck, much less graceful than the first time. You pulled and tugged at his jacket until it slid off his body, leaving him in a plain black t shirt. Your finger clawed at it, pulling it up so that you could feel more of his skin against yours.

“Still not gonna tell me your name?” he huffed as his hands began groping your chest.

You sighed heavily, “nope.”

Jake chuckled, “that’s fine,” he squeezed your chest a little tighter, causing you to hiss, “I’ll jut have to come up with my own name for you then.

He licked into your open mouth slowly, making sure to really taste you as he did so. “Hmmm. How about Cherry?”

“Cherry?” you gulped, “why?”

Jake smiled at your moment of innocence, the way your eyes pleaded for an answer made both his cock and his heart ache.

“Cause you taste just as sweet as one.”

Before his compliment had a chance to make it’s way to your heart, you yanked him closer by the collar of his shirt, “are you gonna stand here and talk all night, or are you gonna fuck me?”

Jake’s smile fell, a carnal look taking over his face. His rough fingers began undoing the button on your shorts, not even taking a moment to pull them down before they were sliding into your wetness. An almost silent gasp left your mouth as your head fell back against the mirror, threatening to send it crashing down.

“Yeah, Cherry? Is that pretty little pussy ready to fuck?”

You nodded, once again clawing at his back as his fingers continued to skate about.

He removed his hand from your shorts and brought the digits up to his lips, slipping them into his mouth. Yeah, Cherry would do just fine.

“Let’s not keep her waiting then. I’m dying to meet her.” He hoisted you off the table and began walking towards the only door that could’ve lead to a bedroom. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you began making quick work of your clothes. Jake doing the same. He was undressed before you were, and your eyes immediately zeroed in on the myriad of scars that adorned his body.

Each of those scars held a story, some twisted, god awful story that probably came with a mental scar to match. You couldn’t help but wonder what kinds of things he had seen, lived. You had a moment of clarity then, of how similar the two of you were. Both marred by scars of the past, yet still somehow standing.

Something you’d noticed from the very beginning was how tired Jake’s eyes were. Though he smiled often, you could tell there was a heavy weight on his shoulders. And seeing him there, in all his raw naked glory, you wanted nothing more than to take some of that weight off, if only momentarily.

With enough time to recover from the putty like state he had you in earlier, you finished undressing yourself and pushed Jake down onto the bed with only a finger.

He grinned up at you, enjoying where this was headed. You slowly made your way up the bed, eyes locked on his as your fingers began grazing along his skin. You were so occupied with taking in the rest of him, you hadn’t even taken a moment to look at his cock. But just as you suspected, it was as perfect as the rest of him. Radiating a cherry shade of red from the tip, like it was made just for you.

Straddling his waist, you raked your fingers through your untamed hair, Jake’s hands came up to massage your ass, “you did say you loved a good ride, huh?”

One of your hands began stroking along him gently, collecting the pre cum from his tip to ease your movements. The goofy grin he was wearing faltered as he let out a shaky breath.

Raising your hips, you peered down your nose at him, “don't worry. I’ll hang on.”

You sank down on him in one fluid motion, both of you moaning loudly at the way you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Jake’s fingers dug into your skin, and you welcomed the pain, throwing your head back in ecstasy as he stirred inside of you. When he loosened his grip, you took that as an invitation to begin moving, and using his chest for leverage, you began grinding your hips against him. He allowed you to do so for awhile, laying his bed back out the pillow as he watched you move against him eagerly. His hands felt their way up your body, one of them snaking up into your hair while the other came up to your mouth. You welcomed his fingers, sucking them past your lips as you clawed at his exposed chest. When Jake noticed you tracing on of the scars on his abdomen he looked up at you, searching for disappointment in your eyes. But there was none, not even an inch.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered to him as you raised you hips to slide off of him, just to the tip, before sinking back down with a gasp.

Jake was never one to take compliments well, but he could tell you meant it. He grabbed ahold of your hips again and began thrusting upwards into you, speeding up the tempo at which you were moving. It was obvious that this wasn’t something that was meant to go on all night long. Both of you were clearly in need of blowing off steam, and by the way both of your bodies were reacting, you knew the end was coming soon.

He sent a harsh slap to the side of your thigh, his teeth bared as he tried to maintain his composure. “You take dick so fucking good,” he complimented as he watched the way your tits bounced from the force of the movement.

Your head lulled forward to smile at him, “I know.”

Jake returned the gesture, a soft groan escaping his mouth, “I’m gonna cum, Cherry.”

“Me too, Jake,” you wined, “don’t stop.”

He sought out your clit, rubbing slow circles against it as he continued to pound up into you. “Yeah. I bet you make the prettiest faces when you cum. I can’t wait to see.”

Your hips began faltering, and Jake could feel you clenching around him, causing a deep growl to grumble up from inside of him.

“There it is. I feel it, Cherry.”

“Cumming,” you sighed, “I’m cumming.” With one final bounce on his cock, you were cumming hard and loud. You were never one to be ashamed of being loud during sex, it made it feel that much better. And Jake enjoyed it thurrougly. The way your brows were knitted together, head thrown back, nails carving angry marks into his chest beside his scars. And your moans, to Jake, they were the sweetest sounds to ever come out of Genoa.

He fucked you through to your end before wrenching you off of him and pumping along his shaft. You were laid out beneath him, both of you watching each other as he continued jerking himself.

Jake’s eyes grew dark, “you want it, don’t you? In that sweet little mouth?”

Your jaw fell open, inviting him to do exactly what it was you were both think. The sight of it sent Jake’s release crashing into him.

“Such a nasty thing, aren’t you Cherry? Oh fuck… fuckkkk.”

Hot spurts of his release began dripping down into your mouth, some of it landing on your breasts and cheeks, but you caught as much of it as you could.

His legs were shaking by the time he was empty, and he collapsed back down onto the bed beside you, fighting to catch his breath. His hand searched for his discarded t-shirt, bringing it to wipe away the remains of the mess he left on your skin. You smiled up at him as he did so, “thank you.”

He took a moment to look at you, really look at you. Your eyes held a certain softness that captured his attention, yet, there was something lurking behind that gentle facade, something that hinted at a hidden depth. It was as if there were an entire secret world behind your eyes, one that Jake coould’t decipher.

There was no denying the allure you possessed, your beauty and your aura were nothing short of captivating. But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that behind that beauty lay a trail of buried skeletons.

Getting reacquainted with the Barbarians was trouble enough, a path filled with danger and uncertainty. And intertwining himself with you seemed to add another layer of complexity. Despite all of that, though, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. There was a magnetic pull, a force that defied reason and lured him further into your orbit.

But he’d leave that alone for now. He had to burry his father tomorrow, and that was a burden of its own.

He lowered himself back onto the bed, pulling the sheet up over you body as you slowly began drifting off to sleep, hoping that he could do the same.

2. Our Old Friend, Death

Taglist: @myownparadise96 @writingcold @jordie-gvf

[galacticwildfire]

Last of us story idea

Ellie's older sister, I'd put her at about thirty, goes with her and Joel. I was going to do an older actress for a faceclaim since I just cannot see Joel even thinking about someone under thirty like that but I just thought Alycia resembles Bella and they could pass as sisters. I've always wanted to write something set in an apocalypse due to my love for the genre.

Here's an excerpt I just wrote out as an idea

"You like him," Ellie says.

"What?" I laugh, genuinely caught off guard as I turn back to her.

"You have a crush," she teases and I already know she's going to be relentless. "On a guy old enough to be a grandpa."

"Okay shut up," I say, throwing a shirt at her. "His girlfriend literally just died."

"I don't know, it didn't seem like he would call her that," she says and I look away remembering Tess's last words to him, whatever she felt for him was unrequited, or at least not returned in the way she wanted. I have no plans to fall into the same trap.

"Yeah and I'm not going to put myself in the same position," I tell her. "You don't know how lucky we've gotten with him, he hasn't tried to assault us or sell us to people who would. He actually seems like he's more than decent and could actually be a good guy, but don't get attached Ellie."

"Me?" she asks. "Why would I get attached?"

"You never had a father, and something tells me he's a father without a daughter," I tell her honestly. "He's taking us somewhere and that's it, end of the road, and if he doesn't make it there I don't want you getting upset."

But of course she turns it back on me. "Are you telling yourself that or just me?"

And so I decide to be honest "I don't need to tell myself not to get attached, I've learned the hard way."

"So have I!" she suddenly snaps at me and I see the tears in her eyes. 

"I know," I say quietly, knowing what Riley was to her. "I know El, I'm sorry."

It's then there's a knock on the door. "Everything okay in there?"

He must have heard Ellie yelling. "Yeah, everything's fine. We'll be out in a minute."

I wait until I hear him walk away from the door before telling Ellie. "I know you loved her, and I saw the pain losing her's caused you. I just don't want you to have to go through losing someone again."

"And what about you?" she asks, not giving up until I admit it. "I'm not the one who's afraid of getting hurt, you are."

"Maybe I am," I tell her. "Maybe I actually like him, but I'm an adult El and crushes are for children. There's no room left in this shithole of a world for things like that and I think he knows that too."

"Still," she shrugs. "It wouldn't kill you to get some."

"Shut up," I laugh slapping her arm. "You keep talking like that and I'm going to just leave you and drive away one of these days."

"Nah," she says. "You'd miss me too much."

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 134 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: putting up a new fence (MAG 123 to this episode was all one session of working outside and putting up a new fence. I remember after this episode I turned off the podcast because I felt like I’m overflowing... Plus I would only have been able to get one more episode in anyway as it was already dusk. I prepared one more element of the fence and then stopped for the day.)

MARTIN: "Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson, dated 22nd January, 2006." Just a bit of timeline, in Dekker's statement in MAG 113 he already referenced the Extinction with "I was pursuing my researches into the new emergence I mentioned earlier.", that one was dated circa 2012, so 6 years after this.

"But I thought it would be best to let you know as soon as possible. I am now certain my theory is correct. There is something new emerging. A fifteenth Power." Ohh, I was so excited to hear this. A greater threat that requires at least the Eye and the Lonely to work together to avert a disaster possibly dangerous to all (including the Fears) was already teased in MAG 126 by Peter ("This isn’t how any of us wanted it to go. But here we are, and if we don’t pull this off, it’s over for everyone.") My spouse hadn't caught up to this point by a long shot, but they already got bits of spoilers from me when they weren't listening yet and they said they didn't mind, when it's vaguely something that will come up. After I was done outside and came back into the house and told them S4 is going to be interesting, there's something bigger that requires potential rivals to work together. Yeah, I totally took the bait... xD

If there's one pronunciation I have even more problems with than British towns-names it's French XD I have absolutely no idea, if what Alex is saying is anywhere near accurate.

"It talked of Garland Hillier’s ‘new revelation,’ about the absolute change of the world in terms that seemed at first elegiac, but later seemed – almost panicked, with the final entry simply repeating the words 'La porte est la porte.' The door is the door." Door motif! Door to the end of the world!

“there is nothing done in the history of humanity that deserves the things that come after us.” Meeeehhh, humankind has been pretty shitty at times... I’d rather ask, do the (poor?) things that come after us deserve the shithole they might inherit?

"I may try to interview her again, later, though I have my suspicions she may find herself disappearing. She has that quality about her; I’m sure you know what I mean. O-of an unfinished meal. And I can only hope that when the second course starts, she can find her way back to Garland Hillier’s apartment once more. But of course the evidence suggests that, in the end, even he wasn’t able to." Even if you manage to escape the horrors once, it doesn't mean they won't come back for you. I don't know what's worse: Not knowing, if it'll come back, or knowing that there is no escape.

"It used to be part of the End, perhaps; when the end of humanity was to be the end of all things. But now – th-the fear is not of a rapture or a revelation. It is of catastrophic change. A change in our world that will wipe out what it means to be us, and leave something else in its place." 14 Fears - Climate Change - 15 Fears XD Also want to say, that this is what a lot of people don’t quite understand about the Extinction. It's not about the end of all things. Just about the end of us as we know ourselves. Hm, Extinction of humanity would also kind of fit the Vast - our insignificance on a greater scale. Humanity has been so self-centered, thinking that whatever will destroy us will destroy all life. But it's not like that... (Hm, wondering what climate change will to do aquatic life?)

PETER: "Not at all. Honestly, that’s the sort of thing I normally relish; I’ve always been a little bit of a gambler, and the higher the stakes the better." Peter, one day this will kill you...

PETER: "The End doesn’t really need one. It knows that it gets everything eventually, so why bother? The End manifesting would not be a new world of terror; it would be a lifeless world. Devoid of everything." MARTIN: "Including fear." Fear for the Fears to survive upon.

PETER: "He manages to pull himself out of the coffin like a grubby Jesus, and he even brings a penitent thief along, in the form of your pet murderer" I love Peter's nicknames for the archive crew. Though "detective friend" was a bit boring, he can do better!

PETER: "We have bigger concerns than this little soap opera you call an Archive." Peter also likes the office comedy version of TMA xD

PETER: "What does – puzzle me though, and I mean that genuinely, is – why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin while John was in there. (brief pause) It’s a question, Martin, it’s – it’s not an accusation." MARTIN: "I don’t know. And I just – felt like it might help. He’s always recording, and I thought it – it might help him… find his way out." Ok, so now we got the information that it was Martin who put the tape recorders all around the coffin. I think it was definitely important that it was Martin and not Basira or Melanie. I've already said in MAG 132 that I think the tapes definitely did something and the rib nothing at all with Jon caring too little about his physical body and such. Jon cares a lot more about others than himself right now and I think Martin is the one he cares most about. In statements with anchors we hear about the statement givers thinking of their loved ones (In MAG 13 suddenly "hearing" Evan, in MAG 48 thinking about her mother, in MAG 129 thinking about his grandfather), and while we don't hear Jon talking about what he's thinking of, it's not complete out of the question. Daisy was also talking about Basira, that could have made Jon think about people he cares about. Other people here on tumblr spoke of the idea that the tapes might have amplified the rib, so I like to think of the tapes also being able to amplify Martin's presence. He is Beholding too after all. Martin wanted Jon to find his way out. And in MAG 170 in memory manner Jon was able to make his way to Martin because Martin let himself be known. I know, it's almost a bit too corny for TMA (wasn't too corny for MAG 13, 48 and 129 either, soooo), but fuck it, my heart needs this! Martin and the tapes got Jon out of the coffin. This is also the perfect opportunity to say again, that I love this about TMA. The vagueness. Other stories often get wonky when things are too rigid (I've talked about this especially regarding soft and hard magic systems. Hard magic is so difficult to pull off, there is just so much you have to keep track of to avoid contradictions). And it's doing amazing fan service as well! Giving each and every one of us the opportunity to attribute Jon's escape to whatever part we like best, rib, tapes, Martin, or a combination of various components.

PETER: "Interesting. Were you compelled?" MARTIN: "I don’t know. Maybe? I-I, I definitely wanted to do it." PETER: "But?" [SLIGHT PAUSE.] MARTIN: "I’m – I’m not sure where the idea came from." PETER: "You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous." I'd say it is totally possible to have a sudden inspiration, but with the tapes being Web there is no way there wasn't a bit of Web involved, especially with Martin's tendencies to subtle manipulation and therefore the Web. At the time this might have also been foreshadowing that the tapes are Web?

@a-mag-a-day

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[annyoingkid]

I genuinely have no idea. It will not happen soon, that is for sure, with Dreadwolf coming out this or next year. The fate of Dragon Age and Bioware in general depends on how Dreadwolf will turn out so there is that. I think Dragon Age II might be a bit of a problem here which holds back the idea of remastering the series. Remaking Origins would imply DA2 would get a remaster as well and this game needs something more than a simple visual upgrade.

With Dragon Age, at least in my opinion, the situation is much more complicated than with Mass Effect Trilogy. The three games released so far are too distinct from each other - the Legendary Edition kind of thing might do irreparable damage. In Mass Effect's case, the remaster was based on the third game's visual style and models, which resulted in the ME1 and ME2 losing their original vibe (I will not discuss it further since I could write a whole separate post about it). Mass Effect is forgiven to a degree though since all three games have the same settings and characters, there are returning localizations like the Citadel and Omega so the world still feels somewhat the same.

Dragon Age does not feel like one entity - everything changes every game, this series is much more experimental in various aspects. Dragon Age games are too different in their presentation - imagine Origins or Dragon Age II with Inquisition's visual style, which is aesthetically pleasing but very colourful and bright. This style does not fit the settings and would affect the storytelling as well. The player feels the horror of the Blight because of the world’s portrayal – it is dark and ugly, Kirkwall feels like a shithole and looks like a shithole. Another problem is that Dragon Age games are often quite inconsistent in their portrayal of various races - it is especially true for Elves and Qunari, if Bioware decided to go with one model, the Dragon Age 2's models would likely get replaced which is a shame. In this game, Elves were quite distinct, they were not just smaller humans with pointy ears and big eyes.

Therefore, Dragon Age games would need a much more individual approach if the artistic value of originals was to remain. If Bioware/EA decides to go with a separate remaster of each game the situation gets easier, in theory, but it would require a lot of work.

I think most of us can agree that Origins desperately needs a remaster. Honestly, I do not think it was ever a good-looking game even by 2009 standards. The biggest challenge besides upgrading visuals while saving the original aesthetics would be improving the game's mechanics without streamlining it and keeping it tactical like in the original. However, despite all that I think it is the easier game to tackle in comparison to its' sequel.

As I have already said Dragon Age II is a game that does not need remaster, it needs a remake. I do not think any other solution would do since many of the problems lie in the game's fundamentals. Improving only the visuals would face a massive backlash - the release of the original Dragon Age II was controversial enough as it was, and re-releasing an incomplete product would be stupid, even by EA's standards. Let's be honest, would EA want to commit to that? Dragon Age II is the least popular one in the series by a huge margin. When you look at posts on Tumblr or Reddit it seems like the game has grown on people a lot (I, personally, am fond of it in this slightly guilty pleasure way - it is not a good game but it had good ideas and wanted to do things differently). However, these online communities are only a small fraction of actual players and many people do not remember the game well.

Inquisition would be the easiest one out of the three, getting most likely only a slight upgrade. Even now, in 2023, the game still looks beautiful - I can honestly admit that even if I am not a fan of the entry. Easy money for EA. Inquisition would be more like ME2 and ME3 in Legendary Edition, the textures are in higher resolution and that is pretty much it.

[elvenbeard]

20 to 25 for Vince:)

Thanks so much for asking! :D

20. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

V was born with very bad eyesight. He was very shortsighted, something that just runs in his family. His parents decided quite early on to have him outfitted with high-end cybereyes as soon as it was sensible. It was early enough so he doesn't remember now what it was like seeing with organic eyes - if it really was that much different. But, having something so drastic just decided and done for him at a relatively young age is surely one of the contributing factors why as an adult he is a lot more hesitant when it comes to getting new cybernetic implants now, no matter how useful some might be.

21. Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Turn-ons: too many. Guy is horny on main 24/7. Very high on the list though, ironically, despite his own reservations: cybernetic implants. Nothing too extreme, but when it's aesthetically complimenting the organic parts of the body, he's very into it. Goro's and Kerry's necks are doing things to him for sure, both in very different ways XD

Turn-offs: If someone is being overly cozy and touchy-feely and too much in his personal space, especially when he doesn't know them well, but even then. Combine that with him actually craving human contact, and you get a recipe for disaster (and mixed signals sent).

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Already answered here :D

23. How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

I would say he is quite organized! The in-game state of V's apartment does not reflect how I see him organizing his place xD Well, at least not 100%. He has a relatively regular daily schedule, tries to be home at the latest by midnight, gets up around 8 or 9, and plans his tasks for the following day in advance to make the most use of his time. As mentioned in another reply, the thing he's most disorganized about is eating regularly, which he struggles with when things get stressful.

Overall he's good at remembering and managing appointments, details, and putting names to faces and faces to names. This sort of rigidness in his schedule occasionally makes him a little inflexible though, and if he has to derivate from it for whatever reason (gets carried away with a job, underestimates how long something takes, spontaneously decides to help set a yacht on fire, you know, the usual), it can quickly mess up other things he's already planned out which then inevitably need to be cancelled or pushed back. That's probably one of his main sources of stress, things not working out as planned and having to reschedule everything xD A little less planning and more spontaneity wouldn't hurt him now and then.

24. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

I'd argue Vince definitely has more brains than muscles, the way I play him and the way I see him XD He's more efficient at talking himself out of situations, or just avoiding situations entirely, than fighting his way through them. If I had to pick one thing that he's really good at, it's that he knows his tech and cyberware stuff, what's possible with it, what isn't, how to exploit it and how to protect himself from others exploiting him. It's less an intellectual pursuit for him though, it's having an edge over his enemies that counts - and also just fun and pure interest on the subject as such.

25. How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

In many ways that is a very scary question and thought to him. With all that he's been through, he honestly would just like to see himself happy and healthy again. He's still with Kerry, still in regular contact with his friends no matter how large the distance is between them all. He'd still want to be in Night City. The place might be a shithole, but it's also his home and he loves it. He's not sure if he'd still see himself in the field of mercenary work - for now it's what's working best for him, and he likes it well enough, is good at it in his own way. But he wouldn't mind a new and different challenge either, as long as all the other things mentioned remain the same.

[pettygangfriend]

Earn me 2/2

Pairing: Rio x reader. Part one here

Requested by: @appropriate-writers-name sorry it took so long to post the second part, but as you can see it’s pretty long, lol. I hope this was somewhat like what you had in mind💞

Warnings: none, may find some curse words.

Word count: 1509 (Im so sorry, lmao.)

“Either way, my world doesn’t revolve around no man. Remember that.”

The last thing you said to Rio before parting. It was also the last time you had spoken to him, or even heard from him. If you were being honest with yourself, it really did sting. But after a week of sitting around, hoping for a text or a phone call, you decided it was time. It was time to try something new, or, someone new.

Which is exactly how you ended up in your position, right now. Sitting at a tiny table at a bar/restaurant thingy you’ve never been to, with a man you’ve never seen before.

“So what do you do for a living, anyway?” You ask the guy in front of you, trying to make some small talk.

He wasn’t really the smoothest talker- scratch that, he wasn’t much of a talker at all. But as you were only 15 minutes in, you’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I make and sell t-shirts.” He didn’t even bother to look at you, being too busy slurping away at his spaghetti.

“Oh thats nice!” You answer, trying to sound somewhat interested. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s not, but it pays the bills. Actually, it doesn’t really, but at least it kills some time”.

You just stare at him with the most confused look. What the fuck does that even mean?

You’re so busy being weirded out, and making a mental note of asking god what you did to deserve this, that you almost didn’t notice a familiar face entering the place, taking a seat at the bar. Rio. His eyes fall on the guy in front of you, looking him up and down, smirking.

A million different emotions and thoughts you had managed to push away, came flooding back, immediately. You do your best to ignore his presence, but his burning eyes on you making it hard to. So after a good 3 minutes of pretending to listen to the pasta eating weirdo in front of you, you decide to find out what the hell Rio’s doing here.

“Please excuse me for a second while I go use the bathroom” is all you say, before getting up from your seat, your eyes catching Rio’s curious ones.

Once you enter the bathroom, it doesn’t take long before he enters shortly after. He locks the door behind him, and turns around to face you. You just stand there, crossing your arms. You sure as hell wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying the first word. I guess that’s one thing you guys had in common. Pettiness.

“So first you’re giving me your little speech about needing more, and what not, and now you’re getting it on with some stranger?” He asks you, taking a step closer towards you. “Doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

Letting out a scoff, you bring yourself even closer to him. “When someone ghosts you for a week long, you it does make sense.”

“I had thing’s to do. I’m a busy guy, you know”

“Not busy enough, if you’re out here lurking around on my date”

Apparently you had said something funny, as Rio throws his head back laughing.

“Date? Come on, ma. You know you deserve better than-“ he points around him, the bathroom looking like a scene from a bad movie. “Better than this.”

“What I deserve is someone who’s willing to make an effort, even if it’s this” you copy his movements, pointing at your surroundings.

Alright, that was probably a lie, you did deserve more than this shithole. But you weren’t lying about someone making the effort to go out.

“And that someone is that guy? The one with the spaghetti stain on his shirt?” He says, sticking his hands inside his pockets.

“Well, I don’t see it being you, either. So why don’t you just leave this place, sure you got some more important things to do”

He holds your angry stare for a moment, nodding his head slowly.

“Grab your stuff, we’re leaving this dump” is all he says before wanting to turn around, but you’re quick to pull him back by his arm.

“What do you mean ‘we’re leaving’?!” You whisper yell at him, absolutely dumbfounded.

“What part don’t you get? You wanted someone to take you out, so I’m going to take you out.” He tells you, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

A part of you wants to grab your coat and bolt out of there with Rio, but the other part needed a little more convincing. You couldn’t just leave the other guy behind, right?

“Are you crazy? I can’t just leave him!”

"You really thought that was going somewhere?"

"Yes! He was cute.. in a way" making Rio raise an eyebrow. "Okay maybe not cute, but he was nice!"

“Well either you’re gonna tell him, or I will. Or both of us, that’s cool with me too” he says, already smirking at the look on your face. You hate giving in right now, but at this point you would do anything to get out of this ‘date’.

“Fine. Let’s go”.

After a -not very sincere- apology, you feel like you have moved from one awkward date in a dump, to another awkward one in a fancier place. Honestly, you couldn’t even call this a date. It was more like you shooting Rio angry glares, while he gave short answers to your hundreds of questions.

“So why did you take a whole week to decide on wanting to take me out?”

“Something came up, so I had to go take care of some business out of town.”

“What business?” “Nothing that concerns you”

“Why did you decide you wanted to go out with me, all of a sudden?” “I had time to think.”

“Think about what?” “You and me. Us.”

You let out a deep sigh, his short answers starting to make you wish you hadn’t come with him at all.

“You know what, maybe this was a bad idea. I should just go-” you say, starting to get up from the chair, but Rio takes a hold or your wrist, before moving his hand down to hold yours.

“Don’t.” You look at his face, only to find his usual cold stare, now replaced by a more insecure one. You sit back down, waiting for him to continue, as he’s still holding your hand.

“Look, I don’t really know how to do all this” he starts, referring to the whole ordeal of two people sitting together romantically. Something that was the most normal thing in your mind, yet not in his.

“I’m know how to boss people around, I know how to make money, stay on my game. It’s what I’m used to, it’s what im good at. I’m not used to a ‘normal relationship’, and all the things that come with it. It’s not something that fits into my kind of life”

“If it doesn’t fit into your kind of life, then what am I doing here?” You ask him, already preparing yourself for the disappointment.

Rio looks down at your intertwined hands for a second, giving it a soft squeeze, before pulling your hand more towards him.

“Because when you’re with me, I feel like I can be myself, you know? Like I can finally breath, after the crazy ass day I had. But when you’re not, I feel like there’s something missing, like I need-” Rio thinks for a second, trying to find the right word. And he did. “More.”

All you can do is stare at him, taking in all the words pouring out of his mouth. A warm feeling forms in your stomach, knowing that all this time, he felt the same way. He just didn’t know how to express himself.

“And after I realized that, I tried to figure out how to tell you. You were right about me taking too long, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want-“

“I do.” You’re quick to cut him off. “I’m just happy you came to me. And we don’t have to jump in the deep end, let’s just take it slow. That way, we can both get used to new things” you tell him, sending him a smile, which he happily returns.

“I’d like that, mama.”

The both of you let out a sigh of relieve, finally being able to make things right. This wasn’t going to be easy, but that didn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re on the same page, entering a whole new chapter.

After a nice dinner, where you guys had lots of time to talk about regual things for once, he had decided to take you home.

“So,” he says, making you look over at him. “Does this mean I have to meet your parents?”

You look at him, wondering if this man is actually being serious right now. So much for taking it slow.

“Oh baby, you ain’t ready for all that”

If you’d like to be added to my Rio taglist, please let me know! ✨

@appropriate-writers-name

@gemini0410

@sesamepancakes @vicmackeybullshxt

@chrmdnbeautiful

@thickemadame

@isisafrofairy

@stitchesbystults

[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 1] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: Low budget yandere for my greasy king. This concept has definitely been done before, but I couldn’t resist. This is my first non-smut on this acct and I’ll be so sad if it bombs 😭

Title from the Hozier song: “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: light yandere, minor injury, angst, Shiggy likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep. [In later parts but not in this one: violence, sex, more yandere, 18+]

You’ve always had a soft spot for strays. Maybe that’s why you became an ER nurse—from the first abandoned puppy you brought home as a kid to the patients you refuse to give up on even when it looks hopeless, you’ve never been able to turn a blind eye when something needs your help. Sometimes (times like this) you wish you knew better. It’s hard enough to take care of yourself these days.

Today’s shift was…what, 16 hours? 17? The 20-minute walk from the bus stop to your apartment building feels like it takes twice that long in the rain. God, you need a shower. And a decent night’s sleep, preferably for at least 12 hours. Tomorrow’s your day off, and you’re ready to take advantage of it the best way you know how: Netflix, soju, and your favorite vibrator. But tonight? As soon as you’re clean, you’re going to pig out on leftovers and collapse into the bed that’s the only halfway nice piece of furniture in your shithole apartment. You really do deserve a break; you’ve earned it.

Unfortunately, as usual, the universe has other plans.

You hear him before you see him: wheezing, choked breaths, like someone’s trying to breathe with an anvil on their chest. You’re not quite out of nurse mode so your mind starts trying to diagnose the issue before you even register what you’re hearing. Fluid in the lungs, possibly blood. That hacking isn’t good. Broken ribs? Definitely bruised. But probably not a puncture…

The breathing is coming from down an alley next to your building. It’s dark enough that you can’t see from the street what’s making the noise. And you’re not a fool, you know it’s a bad idea to walk down pitch-black alleys late at night, especially in this area—a neighborhood you’re living in by necessity, because it’s the only place cheap enough for you to get by. But the coughing…it just sounds so awful. It sounds like it hurts.

Your phone’s already in your hand with 119 dialed and ready to call (standard practice when you’re walking home by yourself), but you turn the flashlight on and shine it down the alleyway. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Nothing responds, but you can still hear the breathing. You step in a little deeper, swinging your light from side to side and looking over the heaps of trash bags overflowing from the dumpster. The raindrops make clicking sounds as they hit the plastic, and you can hear gurgling from a rain spout down the side of the building, but the wheezing doesn’t stop.

One more step. And then one more. You wish there was something you could do to make the splash of your rain boots in the puddles a little less loud. Something about this situation—the rain, the dark, the flat grey light from your cellphone, and that horrible hacking breath—it makes you feel like you’re walking into a horror movie. But you don’t stop walking.

The hacking is coming from a man propped up on the wall between a few XL bags of trash. The black outfit he’s wearing almost blends into the bags, but a mop of grey-blue hair gives him away. His head is slumped onto his chest, and if he’s conscious he doesn’t show it. “Hello?” you ask again, even less confident that you’re going to get a response.

No answer.

The smell of garbage is…ugh…hard to ignore, but on top of it is an oppressive stench of copper coming from the man passed out in the trash. You kneel down to get a better look and yep, he’s covered in blood. It’s hard to make out in the low light, but there’s a trio of long gashes in the man’s abdomen, cutting apart the skin and flesh so deep you can see traces of a slim layer of yellow fat between all the inky clotted blood. It looks like he was attacked by an animal. Or someone with an animal quirk. There are a lot of villains in this neighborhood.

And the coughing...definitely internal injuries. Whoever this guy is, he needs treatment. You hold up your phone to hit the call button on your pre-dialed 119—

“Don’t.” The voice is a growl, low and surprisingly firm despite the scratchiness. You jerk back and clutch your phone to your chest, caught off guard not just by the interruption but by the intensity of the face glaring up at yours.

His eyes are red. “You need an ambulance,” you tell him in your calmest nurse voice.

“If you try to call the police, I’ll—kill you,” the man says, but the threat is a little less threatening when he has to stop in the middle to retch blood onto his own chin.

You glare back at him but don’t call the emergency number. There are a lot of of reasons why he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, but the most obvious one is probably true. “You’re a criminal. A villain?”

He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to keep glaring at you like you’ve committed some mortal sin against his ancestors by having the nerve to check on him and try to help him. Somehow it pisses you off. When you were getting your ADN, you once took a temp job doing health screenings at a local middle school and you would always get so annoyed at the kids. Didn’t they see you were just doing your job? Why is it so hard to understand that what you’re doing is for their own good?

Stupid kids. Stupid villain. “You’d rather bleed out and die?”

The man bares his teeth at you, and it’s a pretty disturbing scene considering how they’re covered in scarlet. “You think they’re going to save me? Think I’ll go to the hospital and get all my HP restored?”

He’s mocking you now. You only have a second to move out of the way before he spits off to the side. “I mean…that’s how a hospital works.”

“If you think I would—make it out of that ambulance alive, you’re—dumber than you look.” His voice is interspersed with coughs.

“Well, you’re not going to live if I leave you here.” You hold up your phone, ready to call the ambulance, but in a shocking display of agility the man lunges forward and grabs it out of your hand. “Hey, wait! Give that…back…”

Your voice trails off as your phone crumbles—literally crumbles to dust in the man’s fingers. Once he’s satisfied that there’s no way for you to call the cops, he slumps back onto the trash bags and closes his eyes, apparently exhausted from the effort.

Goddamnit…! For a second, you can only stare blankly at the pile of dust that used to be your $300 smartphone. And then you’re seized by something, maybe not hatred but an annoyance so strong you can feel it in your throat, and you decide right then and there that this villain is not going to die. You’re going to save him. Out of spite.

You’re not sure how you manage to half-carry him from the alley to your apartment, but you do. You’re lucky it’s ass-o-clock at night and no one’s in the lobby or the elevator, or you’d definitely be getting some looks trying to lug a maimed body around. What would you say if someone did call the cops? Don’t worry, don’t worry about it officer, it’s just my friend drank a little too much, oh those wounds? We were at a costume party, haha…

But no one sees you, and no one calls the cops. The man is unconscious the whole time you’re carrying him, and by the time you have him laid out on a shower curtain on your living room floor his breathing is a little bit shallower than it was before. You’ve got your tools—nothing fancy, just some gauze and closures and antiseptic from your personal first aid kit. It’s not much, but it’ll have to be enough.

“Let’s get to work, asshole,” you tell the unconscious body in front of you, and you crack your knuckles.

///

The day after you pick the villain out of the garbage, your body decides that it’s not going to let you sleep in no matter how much you need it. You can tell because the huge windows in your bedroom—the only saving grace of this apartment, honestly—are depositing golden-pink sunrise light over everything you see when you open your eyes, including the villain’s face. Which is about six inches away from yours.

“You smell like death,” you tell him sleepily. He doesn’t move.

He’s…probably in his early twenties, you think, but it’s hard to tell because of all the wrinkles. His hair is on the longer side, and it’s striped with rusty brown smears from his blood. Again, you notice how red his irises are. Have you ever seen someone with eyes that color before? You’re pretty sure you haven’t.

“You slept for a long time,” the villain says, finally moving back so he’s not breathing into your mouth.

“Yeah, I was tired. From saving your life.” You sit up and rub your temples. “I’m thirsty…”

Before you can finish your complaint, the villain is holding a glass of water out to you in an awkward 4-fingered grip.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” You suck down the water and immediately feel better, enough that you realize how wrong it is that he’s up and moving around and probably undoing all your hard work. “You should be lying down.”

“The floor hurt, and I was bored.”

“Lie on the couch then. You can watch TV. But first—“ He’s sitting on the edge of your bed next to you, and you make him lie down flat so you can look at the injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as they looked last night—no walk in the park, but at least you won’t have a corpse in your apartment in a few hours.

When you’re done inspecting him, he sits up and asks you for a shirt. You had to cut his off, not that it was any great loss. The thing was shredded. Him pointing it out is the only thing that makes you really realize he’s shirtless, so you give him an oversized pajama shirt of yours. It has the name and motto of your old high school on it, and the villain reads it out in a half-mocking tone when you hand it to him.

“Beggars shouldn’t be choosers,” you snap. “You should be grateful.”

“I am grateful,” he says, putting the shirt on. “But I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you need a shirt, right? It’s cold—“

“No. Not that.” He’s staring at you again, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact. “Why you didn’t leave me where you found me last night.”

There’s a lot you could tell him, all of it a little bit true. You were curious. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t make it out of the hospital alive. You couldn’t leave him alone the same way you can’t leave abandoned puppies alone. You wanted to prove to him that you were right, and that being stubborn wouldn’t get him what he wanted. But you don’t say that. “You killed my phone, so you owe me a new one. And I can’t get that back if you bleed out.”

He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe you, and you fidget under his gaze until he sighs and says, “Whatever.”

You have to let him lean on your shoulder when he walks back to the living room to lie down on your couch. How the hell did he even get to your bedroom by himself? You really didn’t think this through—what are you supposed to do with an infirm possible villain who can barely walk unsupported without opening his injuries back up?

But that’s a problem for tomorrow you to deal with. Today, you’re content to set your laptop up on the coffee table so the two of you can watch TV in…oddly companionable (if you’re not imagining it) silence. It’s almost the lazy day off you were daydreaming about before you got yourself into this mess, and the atmosphere is so relaxed that before you can really decide whether to force the man to go to the hospital or turn him out on the street (or…?) you’re dozing off on your couch like there isn’t a potentially dangerous stranger lying beside you with his head just a few inches from your lap.

When you wake up, your problem is solved for you. He’s gone, and it’s like he was never there—except you’re down a cellphone and a pajama shirt, and your shower curtain is drenched with blood. You wrap it up with the rest of the soiled medical supplies and toss all of it in a dumpster a mile away from your building without knowing exactly why.

///

It’s not the last you see of him, but somehow you had a feeling that was going to be the case.

He scares the shit out of you the first time he visits (over time, that’s how you’ll start to think of his little unannounced drop-ins: visits. Like you’re being visited by a ghost or something). You’re coming back from another grueling shift in the ER, so tired you think you might be sleepwalking, and what do you find when you come in your apartment but a strange white-haired man sitting on your couch eating dry cereal out of the box and flipping through one of your books?

You nearly piss yourself.

He doesn’t seem surprised, which makes sense, considering he’s a villain and he’s probably used to pulling this dramatic entrance thing on people. He certainly doesn’t seem the least bit threatened when you brandish the mini canister of pepper spray on your keychain and demand that he tell you how he got in if he wants to retain the power of eyesight.

“It was unlocked,” he says.

“It was not unlocked,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You may be sleep deprived, but you’re not careless. Never careless.

“Whatever. Calm down. You’re not going to use that on me.”

He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. If he wanted to do something to hurt you, he could’ve done it that first night. And you’re too tired to really put up a fight, so you just put the cap back on the pepper spray and flop down next to him on the couch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looks at you curiously from between his shaggy bangs, like you’re the one intruding in his home and not the other way around, then reaches out to hand something to you. “Here, payback.”

It’s a cell phone—not a smartphone like the one he destroyed, but a flip phone circa the 2000s, the kind that forces you to press “9” four times to get the letter “F”. You stare at it for a second, then look back at the villain. “Are you kidding? Did you get this from a museum?”

“Take it or leave it.” His feet are propped up on your coffee table, but you can’t make yourself care. Actually, it looks nice…him stretched out with an odd look of comfort on his lanky form.

You lean back on the couch and kick up your feet next to his. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs.

“How are your wounds healing?” Why are you trying to make conversation with this guy? He’s…a villain, right? Not that you’ve ever received affirmative confirmation of that fact, but the hesitance to call the police and the breaking and entering are pretty good tells. But…it might be weird, but since you picked him up that day, you’ve felt a kind of kinship with him.

Alone. Abandoned. No place to go. No one to save him. It’s not a pretty comparison, but you can’t deny it rings true.

Maybe that’s why you pick up strays.

“They’re fine,” he tells you after so long a pause that you’ve almost forgotten your question. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

You take a long look at him, at his posture—he’s relaxed, but his abdomen is crunched a little bit, curled in on himself so subtly that even you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t looking. It’s not your problem. He’s an adult, and you’re sure he could be seeking real medical attention if he really needed it. You’re in no way obligated to perform some kind of checkup on this arrogant dick who literally broke into your apartment to give you a shitty phone and eat your cereal. The sensible thing to do is to tell him to forget that you live here and hopefully never see him again.

His head tips back to rest on the top of the couch, and he holds your book up to read. At this angle his long hair is out of the way of his face, and you notice among the deep-set creases in his skin a pair of wide scars across his right eye and on the corner of his lips. They’re pale and faded—old, then—but they look off to you, and after a while of snatching glances at his face you realize it’s because they’re healed badly, extraordinarily badly, the kind of healing that you don’t see very often because it only occurs when a stubborn patient tries to let a particularly nasty injury heal on its own. The part of you that isn’t sensible wonders how old he was when he got those scars.

Has he learned his lesson?

You doubt it.

“Lie down,” you sigh. “Let me see the cuts.”

Which is how you find yourself examining this annoying villain again, checking on his injuries and giving him recommendations for care like you’re his personal nurse or something. It’s not a role you enjoy playing, but at least he takes it without complaint, and you start to wonder if maybe this is why he broke into your apartment in the first place. If anything, he looks calmer when you’ve flipped up his shirt and prodded at his wounds, his eyes closing slowly and freeing you of that scarlet-red gaze.

He’s like a cat, you think, and then you shake your head and remind yourself that it’s a terrible idea to think of this man—this grown man who is probably a great danger to you and others—as a wild animal you’re trying to domesticate.

When he finally leaves (only after you drop a couple dozen unsubtle hints about how long you’ve been at work and how exhausted you are), you take a moment before you sink into bed to look at the flip phone. It’s no nicer than your original impression, but as you scroll through the screens you notice that it’s factory-new, except for one thing: there’s a contact programmed in, a phone number with an area code you don’t recognize listed under “T”. And you don’t want to be curious…

…but you are. Shocking.

Down the rabbit hole it is, you decide. So you text him.

///

[You: 12:03 AM] > Hey it’s (Y/N) > (the girl whose apartment you broke into) > What does T stand for? [T: 12:07 AM] > What do u think [You: 12:09 AM] > ?? [T: 12:09 AM] > My name > Dont you know who i am [You: 12:10 AM] > Are you famous? [T: 12:10 AM] > You dont watch the news do u [You: 12:11 AM] > Not really > What’s your name then [T: 12:12 AM] > … > Didnt u say u had to sleep [You: 12:15 AM] > Oh yeah > Whatever I guess > Good night

[T: 2:34 AM] > Its Tomura > Dont look it up

[You: 8:02 AM] > Ok > I won’t > Tomura

➠ [Part 2]

[jalapeno-princess]

Kiss Me More

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word count: 6.1K

Genre: Very fluffy smut

Warning: Some sexy time in there nothing too extreme (hehehe...or is there?)

Summary: You were confident in the fact that your sex life with Mark was very exciting, wild and fun to say the least. In more or less words, it was perfect. Just your relationship in general was the kind that many people around you would be the envy of. It’s been four years since you began dating and you could honestly say it has been the best four years of your life so far because of him. He was the best boyfriend you could possibly ask for; kind, funny, gentle, considerate, soft-spoken, generous and extremely handsome. He took really good care of you and it was obvious by both his actions and his words that he was madly in love with you. As the two of you are coming down from your sex highs, you grow curious as to why once your love making sessions were over, so is the intimacy. Surely, your boyfriend has his reasons for not kissing you for too much longer as you’re about to go to bed. Right?

A/N: Based on the song “Kiss Me More” by Doja Cat and Sza. I am obsessed with this song and I knew I had to write something based on it so I hope you all enjoy! (I don’t really care for how the ending turned out but whatever).

We hug and yes, we make love And always just say "Goodnight" (la-la-la-la-la) And we cuddle, sure I do love it But I need your lips on mine

Can you kiss me more? We're so young, boy We ain't got nothin' to lose, oh, oh It's just principle Baby, hold me 'Cause I like the way you groove, oh, oh

Boy, you write your name, I can do the same Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la All on my tongue, I want it (la-la-la-la) Boy, you write your name, I can do the same Ooh, I love the taste, la-la-la-la-la All on my tongue, I want it

“Ah—shit, shit—baby, I’m going to need you to slow down. Please—we have the whole night, I just—y/n—fuck. You’re so fucking sexy—“ Against your boyfriend’s pleas, you only sped up your pace to rile him more than he already was. 

“The whole night? We’ve been at this for three hours baby. I think I’m gonna tap out here soon. Aren’t you tired?” 

The devilish grin that immediately rose on his face at your confession confirmed that no—he was not tired or if he was, he still had enough energy to keep pumping in to you. You were currently bouncing on his cock; sinking up and down on him like it was your life duty to do so. 

Your walls were clenched around him deliciously; his hardened length filled you up to the hilt with every thrust. The tip grazed along your nub; flicking it with every pump and it was quickly driving you to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d find yourself in this position tonight. 

The two of you were exhausted beyond belief; you were at school since six in the morning up until four in the afternoon earlier today. You had finished two midterms and one very important exam you’ve been studying almost an entire month for. Tired wasn’t even a good enough word to describe your current state. 

Your boyfriend was just as much in bad shape as you were. His boss had him doing multiple errands today on top of completing his own assigned work. He only arrived home a little over an hour ago. When you heard the front door of your shared apartment gently open, you had to prevent yourself from running towards him and embracing him with all the power you had in your tiny body. 

You were confident that he was probably worn out and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. From previous experiences, sometimes your boyfriend would go straight to bed upon arrival—being too fatigued to care about eating or taking a shower even. 

Although you were just as tired and in more or less words; overworked to the bone, seeing your boyfriend slumped while his dark circles grew more and more prominent every day, you mustered up enough energy to iron his clothes for the next day, prepare the clothes he’d wear to sleep, pack him a lunch and even get some of his toiletries ready if he felt like wanting to rinse off just a bit. 

To your surprise, as soon as he made his way towards you—before you could even open your mouth to ask your boyfriend how his day was, his pretty, heart-shaped lips that you loved so much were fervently smashed against yours. He gave you no time in preparing yourself for what was to come next before he roughly grabbed you at your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

His mouth never left yours as he led the two of you to your shared bedroom. It boggled your mind that he was giving you his full attention; gnawing and sucking on your lips while he carried you to the room without bumping in to anything or tripping on the rug. Maybe he’s gotten used to doing so since the two of you have been in this exact same scenario more times than you can count on both hands. 

There were so many thoughts running through your mind and questions on the tip of your tongue—concerning the sudden affection and lust he was currently showing you, but whatever you wanted to ask him no longer mattered the second he shoved his tongue down your throat and squeezed both your ass cheeks before slapping them hard. 

“Mark—babe is everything okay—“

“Work was shit—complete and utter shit. I missed you so fucking much like I do every single day I’m at that shithole and so I logged on to Snapchat and to my surprise—and delight, my beautiful girlfriend sent me a few snaps of her pretty outfit today. Don’t play innocent baby, you knew exactly what you were doing as soon as you hit send. You are well aware of the fact that I was seconds away from calling in sick this morning and fucking you in to oblivion right against the kitchen counter when you walked out in to the living room. Ah—there was so many things I wanted to say. Don’t get me wrong, you look breathtakingly beautiful in every single thing that you wear, but my dress shirt and that pencil skirt that hugs you in all the right places and leaves little to the imagination? Tsk tsk—it’s like you wanted me to rearrange your guts tonight.” 

You looked at him in curiosity; it took you a few moments to pin point exactly what photos he was referring to. Since you were so busy today, you completely forgot about sneaking to the bathroom and taking a few pictures of yourself. This last week has been extremely busy for both you and your boyfriend—and so the thought of being intimate with him felt like a fever dream. 

Sex with Mark had to be one of your favorite activities not only as a couple, but just in general. One thing about the older boy that you admired was the fact that he was very talented in each and every single thing he put his mind in to. Baseball, volleyball, football, golf, tennis, soccer, martial arts—it wasn’t even only sports. 

Mark was exceptionally intelligent; he was one of the only people you knew that was good at both reading and math. He also could finish a Rubik’s cube in under two minutes which was quite the impossible task. Every single thing your boyfriend did never failed to impress you. However, you felt as though he was the best at blowing your mind in more ways than one. 

The older boy was extremely generous; he always bought you cute little gifts that reminded him of you, he’d pay for every single date against your pleas no matter where the two of you would go, he’d sacrifice his time and work his schedule around yours so he could pick you up and drop you off wherever you needed to go. When it came to the bedroom, he always put you and your needs first. Mark always made it his main priority to make sure you came first, that you were genuinely having a good time and overall he wanted to do whatever he possibly could to make you comfortable. 

Some days, he’d be so focused on eating you out that he found pleasure and got his full strictly by sucking on your pussy. If you were having a rough day, he’d prepare you a bath and get you all your favorite snacks in attempts of cheering you up but not before finding his place in between your thighs and dragging his tongue along your slit faster than you could actually handle. Mark was the king of overstimulation; one of his kinks was driving you crazy and not giving you a chance to do anything about it. 

He was extremely good at sex— and his body was handcrafted by God. Every single thing about him was annoyingly perfect; he wasn’t the most muscular man but he wasn’t exactly skinny either. He had just the right amount of muscle, a six pack and he was well endowed. Although you considered penises very unattractive before you met Mark, something about his was so pretty and it always made your mouth water. 

You weren’t sure if you preferred having it buried deep inside of your cunt, or filling up your throat—both felt so phenomenal. Out of all the positions you and Mark experimented in during your four year relationship, your favorites had to be doggy, missionary and the one you were currently in right now. In most of your love making sessions, Mark took the lead and dominated you—not that you ever objected. 

A dominant Mark—degrading, rough, animalistic was the sexiest Mark—well, next to jealous and overprotective which usually led to the passionate and extremely freaky sex the two of you’d have. But there were times where you would take control because Mark was the definition of a switch; and something about him submitting to you and whatever you told him to always sent your mind in a frenzy.

Mark was very vocal about how he came faster whenever you would find yourself riding him specifically because watching your breasts bounce, getting to see your gorgeous face and observing your pussy swallow his cock whole—your juices coating his entire length, the sensation was lethal. His hands gripped on your waist all but gently; you might have been the one on top but your boyfriend was a powerbottom. He never allowed you to do things on your own, especially during sex. 

“Nope. I’m like the energizer bunny whenever we make love. In fact, I could probably fuck you for a solid four more hours. I know sex isn’t everything in a relationship and there are so many other things I love to do with you—but damn, you’re a fucking dream y/n. We have sex almost every single day and it always feels like the first time. If you’re exhausted baby, you can get off. As much as I particularly enjoy and get off on the feeling of your ass clapping against my balls, I’m sure it’s pretty tiring.” 

You had to stifle back a laugh at his choice of words; when the two of you first became intimate with one another, there was a lot of laughter and playful banter in the duration of your sexy time to which you didn’t think was normal. Then again, your relationship with Mark was never normal from the start. Your relationship was the envy of a lot of the people around you. 

It’s been over four years yet somehow—maybe it was the deep, passionate love you held for one another, but you were still surprisingly in the honeymoon stage. Neither you or Mark could get enough of each other. Sometimes, whenever the two of you would tumble in to bed together, some jokes, corny pickup lines and even riddles would be thrown in while Mark would be railing you and on some occasions, he’d say things at the wrong time, but you still had so much fun nonetheless. 

“I’m not too tired, I just don’t want to be immobile for the next week. My thighs are jelly and I have work in the morning. I’ve called out three times already in the last month because you fulfill your promises of wrecking me and I’m sure my boss is aware of the fact that it’s not possible for me to get food poisoning that many times within days of each other—“

“I mean, I have no regrets honestly and if I remember correctly, you’re always the one telling me to “go faster” and to “fuck me harder daddy”—ow! What? I’m just stating the facts—“

“I know, but it sounds weird when you say it.” 

He playfully rolled his eyes before stealing a sloppy kiss from the corner of your mouth and motioned for you to get off of him. As much as you were reveling in his many wanton noises and lustful facial expressions, you could feel your legs giving out and you were in no position to be calling out sick again. At least not for another week or two. You let out a whine at the feeling of him slowly pulling out of you; you weren’t ashamed to say you were a huge fan of how it felt to be full of your boyfriend’s cock. 

Cock warming was another favorite kink of yours. Mark on the other hand, would have to mentally prepare a few minutes prior to staying inside of you. It was hard for him to stay idle—he’s told you this many times. As much as he wanted to do whatever you asked of him and wanted to please you no matter what it was you desired, the feeling of your tight, wet and warm walls clenching around him was too much. He allowed it to happen, but not for too long. He could be the one to tap out, but a couple minutes of cockwarming could lead to another round of sex and in many cases; it did.

“What a baby, can’t even go a couple of seconds without my dick inside of her—“

“Shut up, I can go in to the bathroom and finish myself off if I wanted to—“

“We all know your fingers aren’t enough to get you seeing stars princess. And that stupid dildo you bought when I was away in Taiwan last year can’t do shit for you either.” 

Thankfully, he didn’t take too long in throwing you against the bed and lining himself back at your entrance. You were seeping of your essence at this point and he swiped himself along your folds so that it would be easier for him to slip back inside. He brought his face up to your ear and his breath was hot against your jaw as he leaned in to whisper naughty words that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. 

“Only I can bring you to sheer ecstasy. Only I can get you to see white—only I can get your head spinning. My fingers; we both know how much my fingers are one of your favorite body parts of mine.” He wrapped one hand around your neck gently, making sure to glide his thumb along your pressure point while swiping some of your juices with his index finger and bringing it up to your mouth. 

“Taste yourself baby. I want you to experience the euphoria I go through whenever I eat out this pretty cunt of yours. Well—back to what I was saying, my tongue, I know exactly how to use it as we make out, when I suck on this pretty little neck of yours or when I suck the life out of your pussy—so even if you were to finger yourself like the dirty girl you are, you’ll never reach the mind blowing orgasm only I can give to you. Now, I think it’s time I teach you a lesson for speaking out against me.” 

You bit your lip in anticipation for the excitement that was to come; whenever Mark would get jealous or whenever you were bratty and went against whatever he commanded you to do, that’s when he would fuck your brains out. How the two of you were still going at it with such a rapid and forceful pace had yet to really process completely in your mind, but you didn’t question it. A muttered groan fell from both your lips and his as soon as he found his place back inside of you. 

Immediately, he placed his face in the crook of your neck for what you were accustomed to him trying his best not to moan loudly. He dragged his teeth along the juncture of your nape before sinking his teeth in and leaving a dark love bite in its wake. 

“Mark!” 

You swatted his arm once you felt the spot begin to throb. Sure, you found it extremely sexy whenever he’d mark his territory because it proved just how possessive and overprotective he was over you but at the same time, hickeys were difficult to cover up and you were confident the purple mark would be on display for your professors, classmates, coworkers, boss and clients to see. 

“Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself—I’ll help you put some makeup on it tomorrow. It’s just that—ugh, how the fuck are you always so damn tight? We have sex on a daily basis, you should be stretched out by now.”

“You men obviously don’t understand the anatomy of a woman. You’re lucky you’re attractive and very sweet, you’re lacking intelligence—“

“Hey—“

“Just fuck me already asshole.” 

You didn’t have to ask him twice. He went straight in to ramming his cock in and out of you. There was no time to be soft or gentle; the two of you were just moments away from your releases. You preferred the softness and romanticism that came with making love, but right now all you could think about was how amazing it felt when the tip of his cock reached your cervix. 

“Feels—“

“So fucking good.” 

Your breasts were bouncing up and down with every thrust and to your delight, your boyfriend cupped one of your mounds in his hand; flicking your nipple all but gently and earning himself the sexiest growl he’s ever heard in his life. He wrapped his lips around your other breast and swirled his tongue around your nipple—bringing the nub in between his teeth and nibbling on it. 

“Such pretty titties—so soft, so big—your body belongs in an art museum. You’re a masterpiece. Everything about you—I can’t even wrap my head around your beauty. You’re really a sight for sore eyes you know that?” 

Slowly, you shaking my brought your palm up to his face and cupped his cheek feather lightly. You brought your free hand in to his hair and softly tugged at his curly, brown locks. 

“I—I love you Mark—“

“Mmm—I love you more baby girl. So much more. Every time you say those three words, I feel like a little kid who’s crush complimented his outfit. You do wonders on my heart. What did I do to deserve you?” 

Out of no where, he lifted up one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder. This position allowed him to reach deeper inside of you which you didn’t even know there was more of you for him to reach. 

“Shit—shit, just like that Mark—“

“You like that baby?” 

You nodded in agreement fervently; he needed to know the effect that this position was having on you. Something about having him on top of you, even if missionary was a position that most people considered boring and ordinary—you felt like you were going to burst in to flames at any moment. The sound of his pelvis clapping against your ass cheeks sounded off throughout the room. It only heightened the sexual desire that already filled up the atmosphere. His grip on your lower waist tightened as the two of you grew closer and closer to your ends. 

“So tight—so wet—so perfect and all mine.” 

He brought your other leg up on to his shoulder and you could fill your orgasm right at the edge. A loud moan fell from his lips and he tried to conceal it by smashing his mouth against yours, but you only felt the vibration on your tongue as he hummed in contentment. 

“Mark—I can’t—it’s too much—“

“I know baby, I know. I’m almost there too. Can you hold on for just a little longer?” 

With all the energy you could muster, you nodded against his chest and allowed him to reconnect your lips together; his speed was relentless and with the way the bed was creaking, you knew that there was a huge chance it would break soon and you would get yet another noise complaint. Probably the seventh one in the last month. You were secretly hoping that he was closer than you were and that he was only holding on as long as possible so you both could continue your late night romp. 

Your boyfriend was a nymphomaniac; sex might not have been the most important part of your relationship, but after a long, stressful day at work, he found relief in releasing his anger and frustration on your body. Making love was even better—but it didn’t matter how the two of you were intimate, just having your skin against his and your tongue battling for dominance with his, the sensation never failed to turn his sour mood in to a much happier and lighter one. 

He was happiest being one with you. Just by the way he let go of your hips to intertwine your hands together, you were confident that he was about to cum. Whenever he was at his end, he’d stop whatever he was doing to hold your hands and leaned back so that he could get a better look at you. Seeing your fucked out state; sweat dripping down your neck and chest, cheeks flushed with warmth, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth gasping for air—knowing that he was the cause behind your beautiful glow, it brought him confidence and glee. 

Soon, you were being filled with his warm creamy liquid in spurts—the sensation of being full of his sperm was one that you still haven’t gotten used to. It was just that mind blowing. Your orgasm followed in suit just seconds after. It felt like a tidal wave swallowing you whole, you were drowning but in the best way. It was hard to describe; but it was a high you never wanted to come down from. You were speechless; there were no words to describe just how on top of the world you were currently feeling. 

Mark called it a sex high. Whenever you and your boyfriend would find yourselves tangled in the sheets, you felt like you were in another world. Maybe it was just a high off of Mark himself. He was hot; there was no doubt about it and honestly you could stare at him all day if time permitted you to. For a couple of minutes, there was a peaceful silence.

All you wanted to do was calm your rapid heartbeat and to get your breathing under control. Mark’s heart pounded against your chest and his dick that was once hard as a rock was now soft and limp inside of your cavern—neither of you moved; he was pressed up against your breasts and his head was smashed up along your collarbone. Your mind was too hazy to really feel the stickiness of his sweaty body, but if this were under different circumstances you probably would’ve pushed him off. 

Less than five minutes later, Mark leaned back enough so that he had a better view to look at you. He gently brushed back some of your hair and glided his thumb along your cheek—bringing it down to your bottom lip. The soft smile he was giving you as you placed a kiss amongst the calloused digit sent electricity through your veins. In times like these; where you were bare, not just physically but spiritually and mentally and in the comfort of your boyfriends arms, you always felt so safe—so at ease, so serene, so loved. 

You might have just did something so naughty, yet you couldn’t help but blush timidly. No matter how many times the two of you relished in your love for one another, you always felt so shy with his wandering eyes gazing all along your body. Even if he’s seen you naked at least a hundred times, you still found yourself turning red under his stare. 

A few sweet kisses were placed against your mouth as what you assumed was a distraction because as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, he slowly pulled himself out from your slick walls. The two of you groaned at the feeling of emptiness; you gave him a glare—upset that he pulled out so soon especially since you told him earlier that you were in the mood for cockwarming. 

“Mark—“

“I know, I’m sorry baby. I just want to clean you up and get us ready for bed. I think your pussy puts me to sleep a lot more often now. But if you want to take a bath, I can go prepare one for you—“ 

Something about the thought of fucking Mark to exhaustion made you giggle. Especially because moments ago, he was wanting to continue having sex for much longer. “No, I don’t think I can walk you asshole. I’ll just take one in the morning before my shift. But thank you. Am I wearing you out Tuan?”

“Yes and I’m not afraid to admit it. I think five orgasms in less than two hours would do that to someone. You’re so fucking sexy and so damn good to me there’s no point in trying to conceal my feelings for the sake of my pride. I’d shout it at the top of my lungs if I had to—I’m completely whipped for you and I have every intention on keeping it that way for the rest of our lives. Now, I’ll be right back okay?” 

With a couple of kisses against the corner of your mouth, he disappeared in to your bathroom. It was only natural for you to snicker to yourself at the sight of his cute little butt as he quickly walked over to get a warm wash cloth and a bottle of water. You decided to take that time to reminisce on tonight’s escapade. 

Every time you thought about your love making sessions with Mark, your stomach would swarm with butterflies. In the beginning of your relationship when you were just beginning to learn more and more about each other, the sex the two of you would experiment in was exciting, fun and intoxicating—not that it wasn’t like that anymore. 

But now that you were both so madly in love with one another, it was more passionate, more meaningful and a lot more desirable. You always had to be touching him and without even having to ask him, he’d always have his hands on you too. The bed sank and before you could even comprehend what was going on, a wet towel was gently being brushed along your lower body. 

He first got in between your thighs, making sure to wipe up any excess cum that might have dripped from your entrance. Then he brought it up to your navel, making sure to rid visible sweat—then finally he cleaned your folds and with the way a tingling sensation began to develop, you knew he was purposely taking his time to mess around with and to get a rise out of you. 

Right as you were about to whine in attempts to get him to stop, he got another washcloth and wiped your face. Mark was well aware of how your skincare was very important to you. He’d watch you take the time to put on moisturizer, toner and sunscreen on in the mornings and right before bed. 

It was the little things that he recognized that made your heart swell; no matter how many times a day he’d tell you that he loved you, he professed his love just a little bit more through his actions. Once he was done, he helped you put on a clean pair of underwear and one of his t-shirts—a reoccurring act of affection he did not too long after you came down from your highs. 

With a sweet kiss on your forehead, he went back in to the bathroom to prepare for bed; brushing his teeth and putting on a pair of sweatpants before taking his spot next to you under the covers. By instinct, you were pulled up against his chest and his arms snaked around your hips. He left wet kisses all along your face; making sure to steal a few pecks from your lips as he smiled against your mouth. 

“That was mind blowing as always. My pretty—pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect. What did I do to deserve you? God, I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve made love—“

“It’s been three days Mark—“

“Exactly. That’s a long time baby. Especially because I crave you every second of the day. I can’t get over how wonderful you are. Literally flawless. Rest up baby, once you come home tomorrow I’m having you again and again and again—“

“Oh God, how I’m not pregnant at this point is still a mystery to me. Horndog.” 

He let out the most adorable little giggle while turning your body so that he was spooning you. He’s told you many times that as much as he loved being able to see your face, he was more comfortable in this position. You were confident it was because he’d get to feel your ass pressed up against his length, but you didn’t want him feeling embarrassed if that was the real reason behind. Besides, you felt so safe and protected in this position. 

However, you’ve been contemplating on voicing your feelings about how nights would end right after you and your boyfriend would tap out from either exhaustion or overstimulation. Sure, you loved the cuddling and being held by him, but that was pretty much it. He’d kiss you a couple of times and then he’d say good night. If you both had even the tiniest amount of energy, you’d stay up and talk about whatever it was that your hearts desired. 

You wanted to kiss him for much longer than the fleeting kisses—you fantasized about spending a little more time with his soft lips on yours. Maybe he saved the makeout sessions for the bedroom. But even during sex, the kisses were hot and wild—in the heat of the moment, but you were too busy focusing on being penetrated to really enjoy kissing him. 

“Well, I mean my pullout game is the best—“

“You literally just came inside of me that’s a joke right?” 

He let out a scoff of disbelief and although you couldn’t see him, he playfully rolled his eyes. “I mean, well, you know—yeah whatever. The thought of impregnating you is a huge kink of mine. You’re stuck with me for the rest of our lives. You’re going to be the best mother one day and the cutest little pregnant lady. I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby and I’m even more impatient in finally starting a family with you. You really are the love of my life. Look at how sappy you’ve made me. Mmm, I love you, I love you, I love you. Sweet dreams my love.” 

Hearing him confess all that he did about his love for you and the future the two of you had together—you couldn’t stop the smile from taking over the entirety of your face. Almost every single thing Mark said—no matter how naughty or straight up cheesy it was never failed to make your heartbeat increase. You were soon feeling silly for worrying about such a minuscule thing and you wished it could have been enough for you. Yet, the question was on the tip of your tongue; you were mentally battling with yourself. 

There had to be a reason why the kissing stopped once you both reached your fill. You didn’t want to seem too clingy or overdramatic—maybe you were overthinking things. Your mind kept telling you to leave it alone and that he had his reasons, yet you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in your head that begged you to continue to pry at him. Mark looked down at you in curiosity when you turned around to face him. He lifted up your chin and furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“Everything alright y/n?”

“Why don’t you kiss me more?” Your question was muffled since you were too shy to ask him out right and hid your face in the crook of his neck. 

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you—“

“I want you to kiss me more.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean? Where is this coming from baby?” 

An exasperated sigh fell from your lips and you were soon regretting actually asking him the question that’s been weighing heavy on your mind for months now. It was extremely silly now that the question was actually out there but the reason why your relationship with your boyfriend had been so healthy all these years is because conversation was one of the most important keys to making sure you were both on the same page. 

The last thing Mark wanted was for you to be uncomfortable or to feel as though you had to hide your feelings for his sake. Which is why you weren’t surprised to see him looking at you worriedly, waiting patently for you to go in to further detail. 

“Right before we go to bed, whether it’s after sex or just once we’re done doing whatever it is after we both come home from work, you give me a few kisses and then we cuddle and fall asleep. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy doing those things. I just—I want more. I love kissing you if you didn’t already know that by now. Kissing you is one of my favorite activities that we do because your lips are so addicting. But we only ever passionately kiss during sex and when we make out it usually leads to love making and theres really nothing wrong with that. I just wish we could kiss without having it end up or only be during sex.” 

Although the lights were off and you could barely see him, you could tell he was wearing a blank expression on his face. He continued his ministrations of gliding his fingers along your sides but he stayed silent for a few moments. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole; you were so embarrassed but this was your boyfriend. 

He needed to know how you felt if your relationship was going to continue as beautifully as it currently was. To your surprise, he lifted up your chin and reconnected your lips together in a very passionate kiss. His hands cupped either sides of your face and he roughly nipped and sucked on your lips; leaving you breathless as he deepened the kiss further.

It was only natural for you to smile against his mouth; you were hoping you didn’t upset him and that he was only kissing you like this to please you. You were hoping he too was finding some enjoyment in kissing you right now. As his lips continued to attack yours, he took that chance to flip you on top of your back and stole a couple more kisses before sucking on your sweet spot right below your ear. This was what you wanted; it felt so wonderful and you felt even more closer to him than you felt a little over half an hour ago with his cock buried deep inside of you. 

“How was that? By that gorgeous smile of yours and the way your lips are swollen I’m assuming you quite liked that.” You nodded in agreement and stole a few kisses from the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel as though I’m not interested in continuing our intimacy once we’re about to go to bed. Trust me, kissing you is my favorite thing to do with you too. You drive me fucking crazy. I’ve actually questioned myself about this numerous times too but I just assumed you were tired and I didn’t want to press you in to doing something just because I wanted to do it. Plus—“ 

He led your hand down to his sweatpants and your cheeks grew warm at the feeling of his hardened cock. It never failed to make you laugh seeing as how easy it was for him to grow horny at just the simplest touch. “This is why our make out sessions lead to sex and why I was hesitant about telling you that I wanted to be more intimate with you rather than the small pecks and holding you before falling asleep myself. It’s just going to lead in to another round. God, I sound like such a nymphomaniac but I’m proud to say that I am. I got a very sexy girlfriend, who could blame me for wanting to relish in our love at least once a day? Well, now that I know how you feel y/n, I would love to kiss you more. A lot more. why don’t we experiment a little tonight and see where it leads tomorrow?” You beamed up with him and with all the energy you still had left inside of you, flipped your bodies so you were on top. It obviously riled him up and the cheeky grin he was giving you sent warmth to your core. 

“That sounds like a plan. Now kiss me.”

“With pleasure.”