#‘’Yeah uh (sucks in air thru teeth) they do not like that’’

[drowsystarlight]

Runner five! And some background

Finally doodled my runner five! Not a lot of substance yet since im pretty early in ZR still but im so excited to learn the world with them ahehe (more rambling in tags)

[mod-kyoko]

Okay um, here goes nothing, could i request a Nsfw fic of makoto with a Dom! male!S/o (if not then just a Fem!S/o) who takes His anger Out thru Spanking Bic Mac, and one day he has a terrible day at Work, and Goes all out on Makoto when he gets home.

hiya flsjdfjfhsl thank you for the request fldkdgkgjsb

fun fact: this is my first time writing smut on this blog, but i do have experience writing it so no worries

this is gonna be fun to write >:]

side note: the request said nothing about actual se* but i wanted to write it anyway, so i will just warn you when the actual se* starts just in case that's not what you wanted!! other than that, there are a lot of suggestive themes beforehand, and if that's not what you wanted then i wouldn't mind rewriting it!!

***remember*** makoto naegi is an adult

CW: straightup smut, spanking, male reader, male anatomy, oral, fingering, anal, degradation, lil bit of fluff at the end

makoto x dom!male!reader

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

everyone has those days that are just the absolute worst. frustrating people, frustrating jobs. though, not everyone has such a cute little toy at their disposal for when they have days like this. for you, work was much more difficult than usual this particular day. you had gotten in trouble for something another employee had done, and it was just this big mess. thankfully, you had only been reprimanded for it, but of course, the anger and frustration was still there. luckily, you knew just how your anger would find its release tonight.

before you began your drive home, you picked up your phone to text your boyfriend.

'had a bad day. you know what that means. be ready.'

after setting your phone down, you shifted in gear, and began the drive home. a deep sigh rumbled from your throat as your head was already filled with lewd images of what tonight would look like. halfway home, you felt your pants tightening around you, a bulge forming in your crotch. every image of your pretty little boyfriend gagging with your cock down his throat made you even harder, eager to get home. the ride was almost too long to bear, and by the time you had unlocked the door to your house, you were painfully hard and sweltering hot.

makoto was nowhere to be found, which probably meant he was already waiting for you in your room as you demanded. you slammed the door shut in eagerness and sexual frustration, letting him know you were home. you quickly strode towards your shared bedroom, welcomed by a blushing, naked makoto kneeling on the bed.

a smirk spread onto your face as you stepped towards him, shutting the door behind you. reaching out to ruffle his hair, you leaned into his ear. "good boy. you'll get a treat for that later. but for now, i need to take out my anger." the blush on makoto's cheeks spread rapidly as he furiously nodded. you settled onto the bed behind him, reaching your hands around his throat.

"are you ready?" you asked your small boyfriend, groping his perky round ass. with a nod, he bent over your lap. with a slight chuckle, you brought your hand up, then brought it down with full force, smacking his cheek. a loud, strangled cry rang from his lips, his legs already shaking.

"count," you growled into his ear, massaging his sore skin.

"one," he whispered, gritting his teeth.

you hit him again with the same amount of force, a high-pitched moan escaping his lips this time. "two!" he called out, panting as you brought your hand up yet again. by the third spanking, you noticed your boyfriend's dick had gotten hard, bouncing with every hit. your own bulge started throbbing under your clothing. you couldn't wait.

"you need more?" you asked him, pinching his bruised ass.

"p- please," his voice shook, a breathy moan falling out through his mouth as you spanked him again and again, each time earning a wince and a cry. by the time you reached fifteen, you decided he had enough, so you picked him up by the waist and sat him up next to you. a few tears had escaped his puffy eyes, but the moaning you heard earlier seemed to mean he was enjoying it.

**schmex starts hereee**

with a devilish grin, you grabbed his face harshly in your hand, bringing it towards your lips. your mouths crashed against each other in a sloppy, wet kiss. makoto whined into your mouth, his hands reaching for your clothed bulge. you grabbed his hand before he could touch you, squeezing it hard.

"did i tell you you could do that? do you want to be spanked again?" you whispered, causing a shiver to go down his spine. he shook his head, whimpering a little bit.

"please," he could barely meet your eyes, instead staring down at his knees. your eyes trailed down to his hardened dick that was practically begging for attention, precum leaking out the top of it's pink head.

"is that all you know how to say, slut? god, you're such a whore for me, yeah? you want me?" you teased, guiding him to kneel on all fours. he eagerly stared up at you, mouth wide open. taking your zipper into your hands, you slowly unzipped your pants, feeling a big freer. after sliding your pants off, along with your underwear, your hard cock springing free from it's cloth prison, almost hitting makoto in the face.

"suck," you commanded, glaring down at makoto.

you didn't have to tell him twice.

first, he licked up the length of your shaft, grabbing onto it. the sensation of his fingers grasping you like that sent an electrifying feeling up through your abdomen, earning a slight sigh from you. leaning your head back, you felt makoto take in your entire length between his lips, his thick saliva coating it as the inside of his throat bobbed around it. you finally let out a moan, as he gagged around you. but it wasn't enough.

you grasped onto makoto's hair, yanking it forward and thrusting your dick into his mouth, drowning out his cries with your moans as your length went in and out of him at rapid speed.

"you're doing such a good job for me baby, oh god yes," you praised him, thrusts slowing down as you felt a knot form in your stomach. suddenly, you took yourself out if his mouth, a long string of saliva pouring out through his lips, his tongue lolling out of the side. he was a bit gone after being throat-fucked like that. you gave him a light smack on his ass and he bounded back to life, whimpering.

"ass in the air, now," you demanded, hands on his hips. he complied immediately, silently getting on all fours, his ass poking up in the air. to prepare him, you reached for his mouth. "lick my fingers." he took them into his mouth graciously, covering them in his spit. you then brought your fingers up to his hole, rubbing it around the rim to tease him. he immediately clenched up, anticipating the pleasure.

"please, s/o!" he yelled out.

"you keep saying that. please, what?"

the blush returned to makoto's cheeks as he muttered. "please finger me," he shyly answered, clutching the bedsheets below him.

your middle finger penetrated him first, only halfway, before you pulled it out. for the millionth time that night, a smirk made its way onto your face as you continued doing just that, causing your boyfriend to squirm in front of you.

"you want my fingers so bad, huh? you want me to finger fuck you until you collapse? can my little slut handle that?" you teased, sliding in two fingers instead of one. makoto gasped, his hole clenching around them, a wet squelching noise coming from his ass as you pumped your fingers in and out, getting faster, and faster...

you added a third finger. his moans got louder, begging for release as your fingers came to a stop, deep inside him. you slowly pulled them out, making sure to leave him in agonizing desire, slapping his hole. he let out a yelp as you picked him up again, flipping him over on his back.

you took your cock eagerly, and rubbed the head around his hole, pushing it inside slowly. the two of you moaned in unison, his insides clenching around you, your dick throbbing with heat.

"oh yeah, you feel so good," you sighed, giving him a moment to adjust. makoto grabbed your hand, letting you know he was ready. with a low whine, you started thrusting yourself into him, hiking his legs up for more access. you watched his body bounce up and down as you forcefully pushed inside him, in and out, ruthlessly picking up the pace.

"fa- faster!" he screamed, moans echoing throughout the room as you grunted, in and out. once again, you felt that familiar knot in your abdomen, that feeling of something building up inside you. makoto screamed under you as he felt his climax build up as well, clenching around you as he cried.

finally, you felt you were about to come undone.

"i'm gonna cum, baby you're doing so good."

"i'm gonna cum too!"

with one last deep grunt, the knot came undone, your cum forcefully spilling out of your cock and into your boyfriend's little hole, all of your muscles relaxing after your release. shortly after, makoto's moans reached their loudest as his own liquids spilled out onto his stomach, his breathing raggedy and uneven. you grinned down at him, cupping his face in your hand. dragging your thumb across his cheek, you leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his lips.

"i love you makoto," you come back up from the kiss, pulling out of him. you marvel at the sight of him on his back, covered in your release, such a lewd face. since he looks tired, you get off the bed to go fetch a wet towel. you come back to find that his eyes are half closed, looking like he might fall asleep.

"go to sleep, baby," you reassured him, patting him on the head as you wiped up the mess all over his body. once he was clean, you tossed the wet rag into a basket, and laid down beside him. after draping the blankets over the both of you, you placed another kiss to his temple, before closing your eyes.

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

:0

that's all i have to say, just :0

kidding, i have more. uh,,, WOW. that was so fun to write, and i am by no means a makoto simp but even i was tingling a bit during that- okay tmi mod kyoko.

(i'm very sorry BAHAHA)

hope you liked it :]

-mod kyoko

[retrievablememories]

why don’t you love me | taeyong

title: why don’t you love me pairing: taeyong x black!reader genre: angst, some fluff request: “Taeyong is dating a black girl who SM doesn’t know about and they get into an argument because they’ve been dating for 2 years and he hasn’t told any of the members of NCT . She wants to break up but he doesn’t want to let her go. She accidentally meets Jaehyun and they become friends(Taeyong doesn’t know) and he wants to introduce her to the members so she decides to use this as an opportunity to meet them so Taeyong can crack and tell them about her which he still won’t do out of fear. ❤️” word count: 3.3k warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic, one tiny mention of sex a/n: i’m not sure if reader meeting jaehyun is realistic, but i wasn’t sure how else to do it since no one at SM knows she exists...don’t clown the music choices plz, i had to look thru my own playlists for this 💀 the ending of this fic has me so shook tbh, i’d have to fight

When you open the door, Taeyong stands before you looking sheepish. “Hi, Y/N. I’m sorry I’m late. I was with the guys today.” You immediately roll your eyes at that and walk away from the entrance, throwing your hands up. Taeyong closes the door behind him and trails in behind you to the kitchen.

“On one of your very few days off? You’re with them everyday. You couldn’t tell them you had other plans? Or even that you have a girlfriend to see?” You turn to look at Taeyong again, crossing your arms. Your body language is already telling him you don’t want to hear more of his excuses. He tries to reach out to you, though you step away from his touch.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping with the knowledge that you’re not going to let this go easily. “They don’t know about us, I can’t exactly—”

“Yes, because you’ve never told them. Or anyone. I’m getting tired of this.” You lean back against the kitchen island, giving him an unimpressed look. “Do you think I enjoy living like some shameful secret?”

“I’m not ashamed of you, and you know it.” You’re not sure about that, actually. “If SM finds out, they’re not going to be happy, and going public is out of the question.” You suck your teeth at that.

“I’ve never asked you about going public; I don’t need or want that. However, I don’t think it’s too much to ask to meet the other men you spend 95% of your time with. God forbid I want to meet the people you refer to as your family.”

Taeyong chews his lips, mulling over your words but feeling too powerless and afraid to do anything about them. Then he sighs and shakes his head, running his hands through his hair. “I just...if gets out, somehow...my career…you know there’s already been so much. A dating scandal would be…”

“I think it’s clearly about more than that,” you argue, your eyebrows drawing together. “You just don’t want anyone to know about me because I’m black.”

“Stop saying that! If I cared about that, I wouldn’t be with you in the first place.”

“Because that’s such a reassurance? Instead, I get to sit up here like the woman in the attic and be hidden away from your friends and family. What a life! Maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

At this, Taeyong’s anxiety becomes almost palpable. “I—what are you saying? You can’t—”

“I can do whatever I want, Taeyong.”

“I don’t want us to break up,” Taeyong argues, his tone becoming more desperate. “I—I can find a way to tell the guys, just...please don’t leave me.”

You give him a long stare. “Quit with the last-ditch attempts to get me to stay. I don’t want you to say that just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“What else can I say? I want you in my life. I need you here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Taeyong’s eyes become shiny with tears, which you wish you could ignore, but there is still a part of you that loves him and doesn’t want to see him hurt. Even if it’s hurting you too.

Taeyong gets closer to you, and you allow him to pull you into something of a hug. His head slumps to your shoulder, leaning heavily on you, and you can smell the scent of his shampoo in his hair.

“Do you really still love me?” you ask him softly, next to his ear. “Really love me. Don’t tell me you want me next to you just because you’re afraid to be alone.”

He squeezes you more tightly around the waist and lifts his head back up to look you in the eyes. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You have to trust me…”

“Then show me,” you respond. Your patience has been steadily wearing thin, and you are past the point where nice words can get you to be complacent. You wonder if Taeyong has even noticed that—how close you are to the breaking point.

He nods slightly to your words, his lips drawing into a thin line and his eyes heavy with stress. He tries his luck with a kiss, but you turn your head and his lips land on your cheek. “Maybe you should just leave,” you say quietly. The words make you feel cold and alone, but you’re sure you’d still feel that way even if Taeyong stayed. He sags a little but doesn’t fight you on it, instead letting you go and stepping backwards.

He seems unsure what to say for a few moments, and then he nods to himself. “I’ll leave. But please don’t give up on me.” He leaves you with those words lingering in the air—words you’d like to put your belief in.

It’s been a week since you and Taeyong last met up in person. You’ve texted sporadically in the time between then, but you haven’t wanted to say much to him, and he already knows he can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.

You decide to head out for a day all to yourself as a way to de-stress, though it doesn’t really help. Everywhere you go there are couples, out and about and holding hands without a care in the world. You only wish you could do the same. You haven’t known what that’s like since your last relationship before Taeyong, and the thought of going without that kind of open and unafraid affection for 2 whole years makes you more angry and sad.

You end up in a nearby clothing store, looking through the racks of outfits and subconsciously wondering which ones Taeyong would like. You roll your eyes at this, still unable to get him completely off your mind even though you don’t want to be thinking about him right now.

You end up leaving that store and going to another one nearby—which is a tiny record shop that sells vinyls all the way up from the 1940s to now. You’ve been here a handful of times before, though it’s been a while since your last visit. To your surprise, the clerk still remembers you, waving happily when you enter.

Besides the cashier, you don’t pay much attention to anyone else in the store, only concerned about getting what you want so you can get out and go back home. Your mind is endlessly stressed about Taeyong and his lack of action. Even though you still love him, you don’t know how much more of this you can take. Your resentment only grows, which propels you to want to call things off before they get worse for the both of you.

Worse, indeed. You’re not sure how it can get much worse than your boyfriend acting like you don’t exist, though you’re not willing to try and find out.

You leave the store after making your purchase, ready to go back home and wallow some more, but before you’re fully out the door, someone hurriedly taps you on the shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you, but you dropped this.” You turn around to see a guy holding your sunglasses out to you, which surprises you because you hadn’t even heard them fall off your bag. But more importantly, you’re shocked to see that the guy is Jaehyun, Taeyong’s groupmate. Though he’s wearing the classic kpop idol disguise, you can still tell it’s him.

“Oh—thank you…” You take the glasses from his grasp, still looking at him with a bit of incredulity. You weren’t expecting to see him in this place. You didn’t even notice him in the store.

Jaehyun sees your recognition of him and gives an embarrassed smile, which makes his eyes crinkle above the mask. “Let’s keep this between us, yeah? Better not to draw attention here…”

“Oh, no, I was just surprised you would even be into...” you glance at the store’s sign, which is just above you, “...vinyls?” You say this somewhat sarcastically, not wanting him to think you’re some starstruck fan.

“Do I not seem like that kind of person?” Jaehyun smiles politely and glances to the bag in your hands, the cover of the vinyl album showing through the translucent material. “I just recently heard that one; it’s really good.”

“Really?” You look at the album, which is the record Through Water from Låpsley. “This one’s kind of obscure…”

“Obscure is good too. You find lots of hidden gems in places you didn’t expect.” You nod at that, but the way he’s looking at you makes you think he isn’t entirely talking about the music, and that makes the back of your neck sweat.

“Uh...no, of course. I get it. I was going to get something from The Internet but this caught my eye so…”

“Seems we have similar taste...I wouldn’t mind if you showed me some more of your favorites. I’m always looking for new music. Maybe next time?”

“Next time…?”

Jaehyun nods. “Whenever I swing back around here...who knows. Tuesday? Wednesday? Maybe I’ll come by on a Saturday afternoon and see you here.” It’s an invitation. Maybe not a direct one—he says it like a suggestion—but he is making it known he’d like to meet up again.

Still a bit confused by this sudden encounter, you simply nod. “I’ll keep that in mind, then?” He flashes you a thumbs up before heading off in the other direction, shooting you another quick look over his shoulder before going off on his way.

You walk back to your own place feeling bewildered at the coincidence of it all, and wondering if you should mention it to Taeyong. But what for? You’re still mad with him, and you don’t even know what would come of it. Maybe more of the same—nothing at all.

To your surprise, Jaehyun is actually at the record shop when he said he would be—that Saturday around 2 p.m., flipping through the different albums. You’d managed to talk yourself into thinking he was just playing around, but here he is.

“So you were serious,” you say, walking up behind him. He turns around to meet your eyes, smiling beneath his mask at the sound of your voice.

“Nice to see you again, stranger.” That reminds you; he still doesn’t know your name.

“It’s Y/N.” You stand beside him, looking at the section of records he’s browsing through. All of them are more modern picks, released within the last 5 years. “What are you looking for today?”

He hums throughtfully. “Not sure. I didn’t have anything specific in mind, but if you know anything…”

“Maybe.” You look through the records for something interesting before pulling out one from Toni Braxton, Spell My Name. “Have you heard this one?” Jaehyun looks up to see what you’ve picked, then shakes his head no. You pass it to him and he looks over the cover, then turns it over to read the tracklist. “I like it. Might wanna save it for when you wanna get in your feelings, though.”

He laughs at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Also, if you like more indie rock stuff, this is pretty good too.” You hold up a vinyl of The Driver Era’s album, X.

Jaehyun’s eyes light up at that suggestion. “Ah, I’ve wanted to get into this group but it keeps slipping my mind.” He takes that record too.

“What about you? Show me something you like.” Jaehyun nods and walks further into the aisles, and you follow. You notice he’s heading for the section of older albums. “Oh, the oldies, I see. A man of refined taste,” you say, laughing to yourself.

“This one’s the best.” Jaehyun points to one album that’s displayed on the shop wall along with a collection of other records—Chet Baker Sings. Below each album is a rack stacked with copies of the vinyls, and you pull one out to look at it more closely.

“Jazz, huh? I’m not too familiar with this artist, but I’ll trust your judgement; you’re the singer here, after all.”

You and Jaehyun go around the store looking at a few more things before buying your chosen albums. You end up getting more than you expected, but Jaehyun offers to pay—which you’re flustered and surprised by. The cashier giggles at your reluctance to accept, but you end up allowing him to pay for half.

“Well...that was fun!” You let out a breath after you’ve both left the store, lingering around the front of it.

Jaehyun nods his agreement, then hesitates before saying, “Would you like to stay in touch?”

You raise your eyebrows at that, the corner of your mouth lifting in something of a smirk. “I have a boyfriend, so if you’re looking for a romantic prospect…”

Jaehyun shakes his head, his cheeks coloring pink. “No, not like that! I just thought it’d be nice to get to know each other, you know, since we like the same music and all…”

“If you insist!” You tell him your number so he can put it into his phone. He texts you to make sure he’s got the right number, and so you can add his number to your own phone. “So, I guess I’ll talk to you later?”

He grins, and you can imagine how his dimples must appear under the mask. “Of course.”

You and Jaehyun get closer over the next few weeks, though he still doesn’t know you’re Taeyong’s girlfriend, and Taeyong remains equally clueless about your developing friendship with his groupmate. You’ve scarcely seen Taeyong’s face within that same timeframe, other than a few video calls—and one night when he showed up at your place tipsy and managed to talk his way into your bed.

You haven’t directly lied about anything, but you also haven’t felt the need to tell Jaehyun who you really are—not if Taeyong seems to think it doesn’t matter. Besides, you still want Taeyong to say it for himself.

You don’t consider yourself as cheating on him and have no intentions of doing so, but you like being around someone who doesn’t seem to be embarrassed or hesitant about going places with you.

One day when you’re hanging out with Jaehyun, he brings up an idea that makes your eyebrows rise. “Wouldn’t it be cool if you met the rest of the guys? What would you think of that?” he proposes.

This suggestion gets the gears in your head turning. Taeyong would inevitably be there, which would be an easy gateway for him to introduce you as his girlfriend. He’d have no other choice—not with you right in front of his face. Plus, you are curious about getting to know the other members, not knowing much about them other than Taeyong’s anecdotes and the few tidbits Jaehyun has mentioned in passing.

“Really? I don’t know, you're all pretty busy, so it’ll be hard to gather in one place…” You’re hoping your reverse psychology works so he’ll take the bait and come up with a solution to this apparent “dilemma.” Thankfully, he does.

“Well, you don’t have to meet all of them at once,” he suggests. “But if you want, you could come visit after practice or something…”

“I’d like that. Yes, I could do that. If that’s okay with you guys.”

Jaehyun grins, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, I think that would be fun.”

The day of your visit with NCT 127 comes up on you before you know it, and you’re more nervous than you can remember being in a while. You have no clue how Taeyong will react, but you can only hope things don’t go completely left. In your mind, this is the only option left for the both of you, since he refuses to take the initiative himself.

What you do know, though, is that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You can’t go wrong with bringing food to a bunch of hungry men who’ve just finished dance practice.

In the practice room, the boys hang out huddled together in little groups, taking a break from practicing for their upcoming comeback. They usually would’ve called out for food at this point, but Jaehyun has already let them know he has a friend coming who’s bringing something to eat. The other 8 boys wait somewhat impatiently for your arrival, as Jaehyun left earlier to let you into the SM building.

“I wonder who’s this friend Jaehyun’s bringing,” Doyoung says. “He’s really excited about it. She must be quite special.”

“For real! Whenever he mentions her he gets the same smile he always does whenever he meets another girl he thinks is gonna be The One,” Haechan says sarcastically. “Let’s see how long it takes before he fucks it up this time.”

“Aw, that’s messed up,” Mark says, though he has to stifle a snort of laughter.

The boys cheer when Jaehyun finally comes back to the room with you and the food in tow. You try to calm your racing heart as you face the room full of men, including your boyfriend—who’s just caught sight of you.

Taeyong’s eyes are confused, panicked, and pitiful as he looks at you. He tries to keep his demeanor indifferent so the other members won’t notice anything suspicious, but he doesn’t believe he’s doing a very good job of hiding the cracks. His chest tightens with anxiety as he observes you and Jaehyun standing next to each other.

How do you even know each other? Why did you never mention it? Does Jaehyun know? Perhaps most importantly of all, what should Taeyong do? He loves you—at least he believes he does, though you haven’t seemed very convinced of it lately. He doesn’t know how to admit it out loud to anyone else, though, and now it seems even more complicated than before.

Taeyong hangs back a bit as the others introduce themselves to you individually. Johnny and Jaehyun give him slightly odd looks, wondering about the reason behind his tense expression.

There’s nowhere left to hide when Taeyong is the only one left who hasn’t introduced himself.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to introduce you as his girlfriend, though to the rest of the men it only looks like you’re waiting for him to acknowledge your presence with a greeting. There’s an undeniable tension in the room as you and Taeyong practically stare each other down, though no one is quite bold enough to directly address it.

His stomach is nothing but a collection of knots now. He thinks about just saying it, but a vice-like sense of fear has him pinned. He thinks he can feel a headache building behind his temples.

Finally, Taeyong cracks a strained smile and holds his hand out to you. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Taeyong, leader of NCT 127.”

Your heart and stomach drop to your feet, and your hands tremble a little. Your face falters, though you try to disguise it, your mouth drawing into a tight, closed grin. In that moment, you make your decision. You take Taeyong’s hand, squeezing it tighter than necessary. He winces, the back of his neck burning. “It’s nice to meet you, Taeyong.”

When your hand leaves his, Taeyong feels as if a huge dark cloud has just crossed over him. His stomach twists with dread as he watches you turn to Jaehyun without a second glance, talking to the younger man casually about the food you’ve brought. Something about the gesture feels undeniably final, and he knows you’ve just slipped out of his life.

[queroze]

Holding back

Happy holidays, @worrynotso ! I hope you enjoy!

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

Summary: A vampire merman and a marine biologist meet. Love at first bite? Not quite....

Angst with a happy ending, Analogical 

TW: its a vampire mermaid: fangs, blood, water, biting, non-consensual biting

Word Count: 3533

Link to AO3

Virgil was hungry.

Very hungry. It had been far too long since he had eaten. He was desperate. Weak and dizzy he looked up from his cave of coral on the seafloor, the sandy muck and seaweed around him swirled as he moved. Shadows moved over him, blotting out the small amount of light that managed to make it to his glowing purple eyes.

Food.

A grouping of large sea animals cast dark shapes above him. They were too large to be fish. And it didn’t matter what they were. If they moved in groups and they were as bulky as they seemed, they were warm blooded. And that’s what Virgil needed. His stomach panged as he moved out of his cave and up and out with a quick flick of his tail. The bodies were sleek and quick.

Dolphins.

He swam, lithe and fast toward a pod of dolphins. Darting, chasing, gabbing, squeaky skin just out of reach. They scattered, each going a different direction, effectively confusing Virgil's luminescent violet eyes. Because there wasn't an old weak one among them, Virgil didn't get a chance to pick one off. He let his body fall listless to the bottom of the sea, the sand catching him and puffing around him.

Virgil would have never tried for a dolphin were he not confused by hunger gnawing away at his gut. His hands went into the sand, hoping to find some kind of mollusk to chew on at least. It wouldn't give him the nutrition he craved, but it would at least give his pointed teeth something to do, rather than him biting his own tail. The thick, strong and rough appendage was tucked under him as his thin pale hands came up empty of shells.  

Blood.

Mammal blood. That's what he needed. Warm, live and pulsing. Heart pumping away into his mouth, veins his glass, teeth his cutlery. Seals were ideal. Slow on land, thick with blubber sure, but at least it wasn’t that rubber band bounce of a dolphin. Whales were marginally better than their squeaking cousins. But also, extremely hard to catch. But their size made it easier to feed off a single one for months before Virgil sucked them dry. But he needed something, anything now.

There was no warning when the net fell on him, other than the slightest change in the shadows that surrounded the merman in the sand. It tangled him, caught his hands and arms, twisted at the base of his tail, cut into his skin. The net was making it hard to breathe, restricting his movements, until all he could do was a pathetic wiggle, sand filling his mouth as he struggled. After what seemed like an eternity, water catching in his gills frantically, a new movement happened. Virgil was being pulled up.

Virgil thrashed against the net, as he moved from the sea floor thru the empty middle expanse of the ocean. The thin twine cut into his tail, his back, his face.

But up he went.

His sharp teeth were useless, because he could not get purchase with his mouth against the tight weave of the net. But that didn’t stop him from biting the water uselessly.

And up he went.

The merman’s arms were pressed, folded awkwardly at his sides, as he attempted to claw at the net to no avail. The short stout claws would have done the job in a hurry if he could only get to the net.

Still up he went.

Until he broke the surface, rump first, tail flopping his own face as the full force of gravity hit his body dripping over the water. It was dark. It could have been a day with a storm, or a clear night for all Virgil was aware. Something jabbed at his side as he slowly turned in his dangle. Rough voices excited and fearful hit Virgil's ears as his body turned sluggishly around. A fishing boat, men in bright yellow shiny coats, as rubbery looking as a dolphin. Virgil snarled at the men, wiggling like a worm on a hook.

Something jerked and his body was moving closer to the boat. The movement was smoother than the easiest swim. The merman kept thrashing, snapping and snarling in vain. When he got close enough, hands grabbed him, callus and rough, pulling him into the boat. There was yelling, incomprehensible and confusing. The people aimed the merman over a large hole in the deck, dark and menacing to Virgil's violet eyes.

Trapped.

Virgil was dropped into the darkness, the deck of the ship disappearing above him. He landed with a splash into water. The water was wrong. It was too warm, too still, too hard, too scratchy. It stung his glowing eyes, the gills along his neck and his tender and pale upper body skin. Virgil’s body dropped like a stone, until it hit the hard and smooth bottom. The net loosened around his body and Virgil moved and thrashed until he was free, the net an evil puddle on the smooth floor.

Free finally to move about Virgil swam quickly around a small circle. A tank, he was in a tank. Legends of humans and their cruelty were abundant. Catching, killing, eating, maiming. He had heard them all….before. Before the only thing that sustained him was blood. Before when flesh was what he needed to survive. Before his tail turned dark, his torso pale and his eyes glowed. He had heard about the cruelty of humans.

And according to Virgil, those legends were right.

Chapter 2

"Unusual coloring on the upper quadrant of the specimen indicates a wider variation in population than previously hypothesized." Logan pressed pause on the recorder. He cleared his throat and turned to the merman in the tank. The 9-foot-long merman was laying at the bottom of the tank, its eyes tracking Logan's movement. Pressing play again he continues. "Incisors and canines are also 60% larger than other specimens that we have studied." Logan continues to take notes walking up the ramp that curved around from the bottom of the tank to the top. He paid no mind to the glowing violet eyes following him.

"The specimen is also at the point of starvation. Live fish, dead fish, and processed food have been offered and so far, rejected. The specimen…." Logan, nearing the top of the tank, checked the tag. Each of the merpeople that have been caught had been assigned a letter. This specimen was assigned the letter V. "The specimen V, as it will henceforth be referred to, seems to be on the brink of malnourishment. Because of this, in order to keep the specimen V alive in captivity for as long as possible for optimum scientific inquiry, some kind of nutrition needs to be entering its system without delay. Intravenous methods are being considered at this time."

Logan looks down into the water holding the merman, purple eyes look back from the bottom of the large tank. The merman wasn’t moving. But it’s fluttering gills and open eyes the only thing betraying the fact that it was alive. "The specimen V has been tracking me all the way up the ramp. That suggests alertness and awareness of its surroundings. This is encouraging as its malnourishment has not yet affected its cognitive abilities." Logan bent down to take a sample of the water. "A water sample of the specimen is going to be taken at...gaAHHHH!"

As quick as lightning, a pale arm breaks the surface of the water and pulls the marine biologist down under. Artificial saltwater fills Logan's mouth and lungs burning his esophagus and nostrils. He fights for the surface, reaching with his hands but the edge is getting further away. He fights against the strong thin hands that hold him, one around his torso, and the other around his face. But already the lack of air makes it hard to fight, to struggle, to get away, to get to the edge of the pool that was only 2 feet away.

A clawed hand tugged his hair, pulling his head back. Teeth sharper than scalpels cut into his neck, staining the water red around him. Logan's body, already heavy with clothes, is impossibly heavier as blood is drained from him. Darkness creeps the edges of his watery vision. Logan is being drained and drowned at the same time. The only thought in his head, clear despite facing impending death was: What is going to kill me? The water in my lungs or my blood in the water?

Blackness overtakes him.

.

.

.

.

Thump

Thump

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

Stinging, salt and chlorine erupts from his face. Logan coughs, fresh new air burns and it begins to fill his chest. He is laying precariously close to the edge of the tank. Something hard and plastic is pressed into Logan’s hands by someone pale and wet, his apparent rescuer. His glasses. Logan smashes them onto his face, blinking away the harsh water.

The merman looks back, mouth painted with blood. Logan's blood. Logan clutched the wound on his neck, still wet. But from his own blood gushing forth or from the saltwater clinging to him, he can't tell. He scrambles up, but almost falls back into the tank for his trouble.

"Dude. Chill."

Logan tries to focus on the voice, but as it happened to be coming from the direction of the merman, the very same merman who currently has Logan's blood on his lips, Logan was looking for any other source of the sound. Hand still clenched on his neck, stemming any potential blood from escaping him he finally makes eye contact with the…. vampire merman.

"Sorry about that." The voice of the vampire merman was low, gravely, and rocky in all the right places.

"Biting me?!" Logan asks, finding his own voice to be higher and raspier than it normally was.

"Yeah...I uh...hadn't eaten. And you were right there." The vampire merman actually looked embarrassed, his hand on the back of his neck, eyes downcast.

Logan looked dumbstruck at the sea creature talking to him. None of the other specimens had even said hello, let alone mumbled an embarrassed apology for blood sucking. But Logan's instinct for correction overrode the astonishment.

"You didn't eat. We provided a variety of options."

"I don't eat fish." Came the simple yet significant reply.

"You suck blood." Logan hypothesized, hand still on his neck, still stemming whatever bleeding was happening there.

"Mammal blood" The vampire merman corrected with his rocky stormy voice confirming what Logan was about to say.

"Mammal blood. You drink mammal blood." Logan plops hard on his rump, blinking in disbelief, his hand still on his neck. It was cold, not warm. Did that mean there was no bleeding?

The vampire merman reaches out and gently moves Logan's hand from his neck. "Your fine. You won't bleed out." The care in his gravelly voice is apparent.

Logan goes along with the movement, looking wide-eyed at the most unique creature he has ever studied. "I won't? But the blood...my blood...it was in the water."

Specimen V's pectorals turn a dark purple. "Yeah, my bad. I was starving, so it got everywhere. Usually I'm cleaner than that."

Logan nods dumbly unsure how to respond. He finally looks at his hand, the one that was supposed to be stopping the blood from the bite wound. It was clean, as Specimen V had said. “How?” was the only word the biologist could form.

“oh…uh…I don’t really know?” The merman looks everywhere but at the human. “Something to do with the venom….”

“Venom?!?!” Logan says moving away from the fanged monster.

“Woah dude…It won’t kill you…probably…” The merman winces. “I’ve never fed off a human before…So probably.”

Logan shakes his head a hundred questions lighting up in his brain. “How are you talking? None of our other specimens talked.”

Specimen V's looks at the slightly cowering human with sharp eyes. “Other …specimens?”

“The other merpeople.”

“How many?” The fanged voice is all sharp rocks and crumbling cliffs.

“You are the 22nd” Logan says scooting away from the merman, the tank, and all the mysteries they hold.

“Oh no…” The merman grabs at the scientist’s ankle like lightning, even quicker now he was out of the water. “You’re not just going to leave. You have to let me out of here.”

The vampire merman, after displaying a surprising number of emotions, now shows the most surprising one of all: fear. Terror is etched into every line of his skin, bone, and body. From the way his muscles were taunt as he held Logan from escaping. To his pale face, violet eyes frantic and darting, looking for an exit. His angled jaw set, fangs poking out of his lips menacingly.

Logan pulls his leg hard trying to get away, but the creature's grasp is tight. “Let me go, I cannot release you from here.” He reasons confidently.

Specimen V, eyes still looking for a way back to the ocean himself, finally settles on the man he is holding distrust in his eyes. “How do I know you will?”

“You don’t.”

Chapter 3

Virgil lets go of the human. There wasn’t much more he could do. His captor was probably telling the truth, as there was nothing within reach that looked like the ocean to him. The human scrambles up and runs down a curve and out of sight. And Virgil waits, skin feeling tight as the too clean saltwater dries on his skin. He rubs the gills on his neck in a self-conscious movement. He could dip back in the tank with the water that was all wrong, relieve his gills, give his tiny lungs a break. But being out of the tank gave him a better view of the goings on of the human. The human who had been gone for an exceedingly long time….

“Hey! Don’t you dare do anything funny!” Virgil calls, his voice echoing unpleasantly off the metal walls making him wince from the reverb.

Nothing calls back. In fact, is suspiciously silent. Virgil pulls himself forward, tail dragging on the grates under him. “Are you there?” he calls again, voice high and tight in suppressed panic.

Then footfalls, fast and heavy are coming up the ramp that hugs the tank. The man comes into view, this time he is armed with a spear as long as Virgil.

“No! No please!” Virgil yells holding his arms up to protect himself.

“Get back in the tank!” The human yells at him.

“Please! Please just let me go!” Virgil cowers now, the human getting closer. He had never seen spears up close, but the victims of such weapons left little to the imagination.

“Back in the tank! Did you really think I am going to let such a unique specimen go?” The scientist laughs hauntingly. “In addition, you speak. You and I are going to have a number of conversations.” With a free hand he holds up an impromptu muzzle made from a bungie cord and some extremely large fishing hooks. “One way or another.”

The cruelty of humans is well known from before his tail turned dark, his skin pale and his eyes glowed. But never did he hear of the cold calculation of a man of science. Of an ambition and ivory towers. No, if Virgil had heard about that he would have starved himself at the bottom of the tank, with its too clean saltwater and too smooth floor.

And there he heads now, splashing sideways, spear poking at his side, just this side of cutting into his skin. He looks at the man bearing the spear defiantly. “Someday you will get too close again. And I will not hold back.”

The vampire mermaid and the human scientist stare each other down, each one a monster in the other’s eyes.

 Chapter 4

         Months pass.

And Virgil is fed. Not always on purpose, and sometimes on accident, but he no longer starves.

                          Months pass.

And Logan learns more. Not always on purpose, and sometimes on accident, but he knows more now than he ever has.

                                                Months pass

And each of the monsters grow softer to the other.

Logan is kinder and gentler now to the merman he has learned the name of. Logan learns he doesn’t like it too bright, too warm, or too loud. The biologist learns that the merman in his care knows all about the prey he hunts, doesn’t know anything of his kind. That after being left for dead by the one who had bitten him, he had not interacted with merpeople since. He had no mate, nor friends.

Virgil is softer and sweeter now to the biologist he has learned the name of. Virgil learns he hates to repeat himself, dislikes not being listened to, and craves praise. The merman learns that the biologist who harbors him knows all about the creatures of the sea, but knows nothing about his own race. He didn’t know how to interact with them, how to find a mate, and how to make friends.

As they pity each other for what they don’t have, each develops a want. One that they each try and squash.

When Logan feels the want, he refuses to meet Virgil’s eyes.

When Virgil feels the want, he can’t stop looking at Logan.

                                                      Months pass.

                                                                    And the want grows.

 Logan is reading to Virgil. Virgil is on the outside of the tank, laying on a makeshift sofa made from an inflatable raft. Logan is on a stool, hunched forward, nearing the end of the tale. Virgil is enraptured by Logans voice, the story, everything, his eyes drilling into the hunched figure in front of him. As Logan concludes the book, he closes it and looks up at Virgil, meeting his eyes.

“Did you enjoy that one?”

“Yes….and I liked you reading it.”

This catches Logan off guard. “Only because you’ll get the pages wet.”

“I like your voice Lo.” Virgil says his own stormy and rocky tones  that send shivers up Logans spine.

“Your sample size isn’t that large.”

“I still like it. Its soothing.”

“It’s monotone.”

“Same difference.”

Logan smirks setting down the book. Virgil perks up. “What are you doing now?”

“Not leaving. Don’t worry. Its Friday night, so I have no plans.”

“Lo?” Virgil’s voice is soft, like the foamy part of the waves.

Logan looks toward the merman, and notices his chest is a darker purple again. That happens sometimes. But Virgil assured him it was not bad. But it was still curious. “Yes Virgil?”

“You can plan to stay here. Then you would have plans.”

“Well reasoned. That does make me feel better. Plans created and executed. I am now fulfilled.” Logan says deadpan.

The merman laughs, fangs catching the light.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Logan asks undoing his tie already.

The purple on Virgil’s chest gets darker, eyes not leaving Logan’s face. “I mean…. we could find someone else…”

“It’s the weekend. It isn’t good when you go three days. If you drink today, we will get you someone else on Monday.”

Virgil’s stare intensifies. “Alright.”

Logan comes closer, and sits next to Virgil, shivering next to the colder merman. Virgil reaches for Logans head and pulls it down into his lap gently. The merman cradles Logan’s head, his neck exposed and waiting. Logan breathes steady under him. Virgil bites, fangs going deep into the pulse of the human’s veins. Logan hisses until the toxin makes its way into the wound, numbing the area. Logan’s eyes flutter closed, the toxin and the blood loss a potent combination. Virgil drinks deeply, brine and blood in this mouth and on his tongue. He finishes with a press of his lips on the open wounds, and they knit close, new skin tender and shiny.

Logan opens his eyes, and he sits up unsteadily. His face close to Virgil’s, he can feel the sharp breath on his cheek. His eyes drop to the dark purple chest of the vampire merman. Virgil’s chest was always dark purple when he drinks from Logan, but never when he drinks from someone else. When Logan smuggles him someone homeless, drunk, or drugged it’s a ghostly pale white of his normal coloring.

Virgil tips Logan’s chin up, their eyes meeting. “My eyes are up here sailor.” He whispers playfully.

Logan swallows, eyes stopping at the lips of the merman, one of his fangs caught on the outside of his bottom lip. “Virgil?”

“Yeah?” As he speaks, the fang is tucked back to where it belongs.

Eyes still on his lips Logan surges up and kisses the vampire merman. Virgil, surprised, is knocked back, into the inflatable raft, his tail squeaking against the rubber. The biologist, embarrassed, scrambles back.

“Oh no you don’t…” Virgil grabs the human by the ankle and pulls him into the raft. “I have been wanting to do that for months!”

Logan laughs crawling into the raft, “Why didn’t you?”

“I was already drinking…it seemed a lot more to ask…but now…” Virgil brings Logan into a Vampire kiss, fangs pressing into Logan’s lips. “Now…I’m not holding back.”

[alitheamateur]

Harley & Heat Lightening

A Tommy Conlon/Reader Imagine

This is just my own little guilty fantasy....

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Mentions of night terrors. I mean, I just feel like Tommy Conlon in general is a warning.

Word Count: 2,149

(Photo from Google)

The beaming white glow of a notification on the chipped screen of your phone face-up on the nightstand seeped through your closed eyelids. The chime notified of you the facts you already knew regarding a warning for heat-lightening throughout this blazing summer night. You praised the heavens for the air conditioning blaring from the vent in the corner of the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, who was seemingly missing concluding from the cool sheets on his side of the queen bed. 2:53 in the morning by the looks of the alarm clock, which meant Tommy was probably up with a nightmare again, and was roaming the house somewhere, most likely clutching a sleep aid in the form of a whiskey bottle. He had those relentless demons under control for the most part. But, you always kept a single bottle of his favorite brand tucked away for emergencies. You didn’t understand what he went through, and you certainly couldn’t cure him. So, you’d love him amply, and if he needed a swig to knock back a terrorizing flashback here and there, so be it.

You squirmed and rooted amongst the tangling wad of sheets, fluffing and flopping your pillow to seek a comfortable position in the empty bed, but it was useless. You’d worked yourself into a restless, irritable tizzy, so you decided to mosey downstairs to investigate Tommy’s state. The ribbed, white tank top belonging to the man in question fit your frame loosely, and the lightweight cotton kept you cool on nights like this. And of course, he never complained about your skimpy preference in sleep attire. You tied your hair into a floppy muddle at the top of your head so the ensuing sweat on the nape of you neck could drink in some breeze, as your bare-feet padded down the four stairs leading into the tiled kitchen. 

The hanging light above the sink which Tommy usually flicked on when he escaped the bedroom for a night cap wasn’t on, and the entire span of the lower level was pitch dark aside from the thin lines of moonlight coming thru the blinds to paint the floor.

“Tommy?” You whispered. Truthfully a bit alarmed at the bleak silence around you.

When receiving no answer, you tip-toed stealthy to the side door leading into your garage, peeping around each corner like a scared cat along the way. When you gripped the handle to pull open the door, and the yellow, dingy light of an overhanging bulb dilated your eyes contrasting the darkness, and you saw Tommy twisting a wrench somewhere on the motor of his bike, you sighed with relief.

“Hey you. I didn’t wake ya’, did I baby?” He turned at attention when the metal hinges squeaked upon your opening. Tommy sat shirtless on a scuffed stool, the wheels attached to its legs rolled him towards a toolbox to exchange out his wrench. His torso glistened in the light just so subtly, and his top lip beaded barely with sweat, which told you he must’ve escaped the bed much earlier than you discovered.

“Not at all. I just noticed you weren’t in bed, and I thought I’d come check on you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to conceal the noticeable peak of your nipple raising through the shirt you wore. It was teetering 96 degrees, and there wasn’t a single waft of wind outside, but you knew it was simply a reaction to the sight of Tommy, basted with perspiration, and smudged with motor grease. As he clanged a hammer onto some unknown piece of the motorcycle, the muscles of his back crawled and stretched beneath his suntanned skin, and the heat at your center could make this July night in Pittsburgh seem like the North Pole.

“Yeah, I uh… I couldn’t sleep. I was tossin’ and fuckin’ turnin’, so I came on out here so you could rest.”

You felt proud, and at ease that he’d chose to tinker with his motorized toy, rather than turn straight to the liquor as an outlet. The dreams, and the panic had become less present since you’d moved in permanently, and you thought maybe there was a sunny horizon in the near future. Peace for Tommy, and less worry for you.

“I know the feeling. That A/C is nice and all, but on a night this hot, nothing really keeps you comfortable enough to rest really. Whatcha workin’ on?” You inquired, lazily approaching to look in on his little project. Before you reached Tommy, you sidetracked to his work bench in the corner, clenching onto a stained, but clean rag to wipe down his dripping neck. When you patted his back, and blew cool, airy breaths under the hair that rested on his ears, Tommy huskily sighed and leaned further into your feather-like feminine touch.

“Nothin’ you’d be interested in. Just tryin’ t�� distract myself. Idle hands, y’know?”

He reached backward to clench your hand from where it rested on his hard shoulder and pulled it closer to his mouth where he could kiss your soft palm. His always moistened lips lingered, and you ran your fingers through his disheveled, musky-scented hair to relish furthermore into his touch.

“Seems like I got anotha little distract that needs my attention though, hm?”

He slothfully laid his head back to rest on your standing form behind him, and the crown of it settled perfectly between your barely shielded breasts. Tommy turned his cheek into you, nuzzling into your pert, pink bud. He remained planted in the mobile seat, but suddenly decided to roll the wheels around, circling a 180 to face you.

Your fitful, whimpering squeaks of approval made him grin callously, and he continued his works to have you panting and damp like a shameless nymph. There was nothing Tommy didn’t put his whole mind to when he wanted it, and making sure your screams were louder than the time before, was no exception.

You sat willfully onto his open lap, straddling and grinding heartily on the pulsing member inside his flattering track shorts, eliciting Tommy’s strong hands to claw at the teasing, cheeky exposure from under the hem of your nightshirt.

“Did this hot little pussy wake up lookin’ for me, huh? Had to come ‘n find me so I could help her sleep? Is that it, baby?” A thumb ghosted between your legs so he could damped it with your wetness before sliding in between his own lips.

You hadn’t come in search of a night cap in the shape of Tommy Conlon, but judging by the drenched crotch of his shorts below you, it was something you needed and didn’t know it until now.

“T…. Tommy. Wait…” you words barely resembled your own voice as you attempted to briefly protest. “The door. We should close the garage door, Tommy.”

Doing polar opposite of your request, the seething man boldly scrunched both fists around the neckline of your white tank and ripped it brazenly in half to discard onto the mud-stained, dirty floor of the garage. Leaving you fully exposed, and speechless.

“Let ‘em see. Once you go yelpin’ and beggin’, they’re gonna have a good idea what’s goin’ on anyway, baby.”

Your nails were digging into his pecs, and you tensed your legs tighter about his waist as Tommy stood from the stool to place your naked cheeks on the padded seat of his iron horse. Tools, and gas cans clanged and toppled to the floor as he roughly kicked off his clothing, kissing you with sensual, and raunchy purpose as he did so. You were already substantially aching, and prepared to take him in, but even still Tommy squatted to greet your southern lips with his tongue.

He gently tasted you, lapping from your entrance, up toward the bundle of nerves between the apex of your thighs. One hand squeezed all too tightly in his now knotted hair, and the other gripped around one handlebar of the bike you writhed atop of. The two-wheels, and kickstand didn’t seem too comfortably stable in your opinion, but you trusted Tommy always in his spontaneous sexual tendencies. The pair of you may wind up crashing on the concrete below if he thrusted too hard, or your legs quaked too swiftly, but he’d still have you blushing with release regardless.

“Taste me, Tommy.”

His sucked, and spit, and nipped with his teeth cautiously at your center, moaning satisfactory curses about how you always tasted so sweet. Never in your life, could you ever imagine a man who enjoyed the oral pleasuring of his mate as yearningly as Tommy did. Your closest friends pouted, and resentfully congratulated you for finding a man as such.

“I’m gonna lose it if I don’t get inside you, Y/N.” A concoction of your own arousal, and Tommy’s saliva dribbled down his chin, and he greedily caught the liquid with is tongue upon standing to line himself up with you. You could see in his lustful, now black appearing eyes that he was a glutton for your flavor.

The deeper he slid in, the higher your orgasmic daydreams took you. You were full to the hilt, and nearly to the throat as his eager tongue explored your mouth upon a hard, knee-quaking kiss. Crickets sang outside sporadically, unbothered by the bursting connection of skin on skin echoing from inside the garage where Tommy was currently kneading your breast with his fight-scarred hands. The jet-black motorcycle rocked with his thrusts, but he held you dutifully in place, keeping his balance to ride you out to complete, blissful release.

He tried to politely, and teasingly shush your amplified pleads for more by placing his index finger over your gaped lips, but it was utterly ineffective. Not that he indeed wanted you to hush though. He got harder, and crazy with desire the louder your pitch rang out, and the more he heard his name choke from your raspy throat.

“Tommy! Yes, Tommy. Ahh, more!”

You felt every ridge and ripple as he pulled himself from your insides, then ruthlessly, and enjoyably a bit painfully drove in again. His hand massaged and trailed down the stretch of your silky throat, and his chewed his lips watching you take every steel inch of him.

Unexpectedly, just as your peak of release danced upon your tongue, a jolting rumble of thunder pulsed over your ears, following a crack of erratic heat lightening. One by one, an abstract pattering of rain drops began to peg the rooftop, bringing forth a gust of lukewarm, thunderstorm breeze. Tommy’s arms broke out into goosebumps as he watched your hair blow loose with the wind, and your insides clenched and pulsated around him.

“Drown me, baby. C’mon… can you come for me?”

The filthy demand shoved you dangerously towards the cliff of orgasm, and you whimpered airily watching his taut abs flex as his own breaths hitched and hiccupped. His brows didn’t furrow in bliss when in the cage. And a good workout didn’t make him shiver and come unwound like this. No, it was only you who could claim the title of vicious Tommy Conlon’s one and only weakness.

Your hand sought blindly a reliable, unwavering surface to grip onto as you prepared for the storm raging outside, and the one rising forth from your insides. Looking solely and focused into your boyfriends’ mysterious blue eyes, you began to smile and shake your head wildly signifying he was yet again about to render you spent and fulfilled. Tommy tilted his head and patiently waited for his queue that you had indeed finished, and he had to green light to spill inside of you.

“Lookit that. The whole city owes us a ‘thank you’ for coolin’ it down out here. We worked up a damn thunderstorm out there, baby.” Tommy joked as he easily slid your tiny, manicured feet on the ground underneath you, wiping the outpour of sweat from his face with his tattooed forearm.

Inside your mind, you compiled a list of secluded locations, and parks he could take you on the bike tomorrow morning once the rain had moved out. After that exchange, you suddenly desired nothing more than to bounce harshly on the bare lap of Tommy, gripping and scratching at that perfectly weathered and beaten leather jacket he always wore.

You strained on tiptoes to kiss his puffy lips before nervously darting towards to house, now afraid to be seen by the neighbors since the overflow of adrenaline and spontaneity had worn off. Tommy flipped off the garage light, and chased you down the hall towards the bathroom, pinching at the most ticklish corners of your body along the way.

“Good idea. I think you need a cold shower. Oh, ‘n if I ain’t in bed when you’re done, please feel free to come and find me again.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @ea91935

[babeyvenus]

The Punishment Bet

Warning: Suggestive themes.

"C'mon Bakugou, you lost. Time to pay up.", Madi says, grinning.

"No, fuck that.", said boy, backs up, pointing at the two girls.

"Katsuki, take the L and suck it up.", Sunako says, crossing her arms, smirking.

Bakugou growls at her and huffs. "Fine! Where's this stupid outfit!?"

Madi points to the closet, making Bakugou's eye widen. "You put that shit in my closet!? When!?"

"When you weren't around. Duh.", Madi says.

"Just go put it on, please."

He kisses his teeth and storms over to the closet, and puts it on as the girls wait.

Sunako nudges Madi's arm, making her giggle.

The closet door slams open as Bakugou walks out in a cat maid outfit.

"AWWW! You're adorable!", Sunako squeals.

Madi gives a thumbs up. "I knew this would come on handy."

"Fuck off!", Bakugou yells.

"Ah, ah, ah. You forgot a little something.", Madi says.

Bakugou crosses his arms looking away. "I'm not fucking saying it. I already put this damned dress on and it was hard as hell enough!"

"C'mon Katsu, just say it, please?", Sunako pleads, giving him puppy eyes.

He caves in after a sec. "Fuck, fine!", and makes his hands pose into paws. "N-nya."

Both of the girls squeal, making the tip of his ears red.

"Shut the hell up already!", he shouts.

"You're just so cute...!", Sunako runs over to hug him and he moves out the way.

"You're not hugging me after putting me in this damn thing.", he says, making her pout.

Madi laughs and places her hands on her hips. "Well, Catsuki, I, for one, think it suits you quite well."

"You, shut up! This was your doing! I fucking know it!", he stomps his foot.

Madi only shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah, it was me."

Bakugou growls and narrows his eyes at both of the girls. "You two are so getting payback after this..."

"Payback? For what? You lost the bet.", Sunako says, confused.

"I don't give a shit!", he exclaims, making her laugh.

"Well, we'll just give you the simple things. That way it'll stay in your room only, and you won't have to be as embarrassed, though... that was kinda the point.", Madi says, making him growl and huff.

"Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Can you do my homework, please?", Sunako asks.

"You still haven't done it?", Madi asks in shock.

"I got too tired to do it yesterday.", Sunako says, rubbing the back of her head.

"You seriously can't do this shit yourself?", Bakugou asks.

"Ah! You're supposed to listen, Catsu-chan. And you keep forgetting the nya."

"I'm not saying nya!", he yells.

"Why not?", Sunako whines.

"You put this shit on and say it!", Bakugou growls in her face, making her giggle.

"Just give me this shit.", he says, yanking the paperwork out of her hand and finishing it quickly.

"Fine, I'm done. Now what else?"

"Get on the floor and crawl around, saying nya.", Madi says.

"You're outta your goddamned mind!", he yells.

"That's perfect.", Sunako laughs.

"There ain't no damn way I'm getting on my knees and saying nya. Fuck. That.", he declares, crossing his arms.

"C'mon Catsu-chan.", Sunako reaches up to run her fingers thru his hair, making him soften up a bit.

"Grr...FINE! For fuck's sake...", he lowers down on his hands and knees, looking at both girls. "N-nya~"

Sunako blushes and looks away scratching her cheek. "I-i didn't actually think you'd do it..."

"You little shit-!", Madi cuts Bakugou off and laughs. "Just walk around a bit."

His frown deepens as he begins walking on his hands and knees.

_______________________________________________

"Ugh...I was getting tired of being in that damned thing!", Bakugou gripes.

"Katsu...you got a little something on your head.", Sunako snickers.

He looks at her and then feels on top of his head that he's forgotten about the cat ears headband and rips it off his head.

"Shitty thing...", he turns to the girls. "Now it's time for my payback!"

"What payback? You lost!", Sunako raises an eyebrow.

"You two thought making fun of me was fucking funny. Now we'll see who's really gonna be embarrassed.", he growled lowly.

"H-huh...?", both of the girls looked at each other.

"We'll do this. Both of you are gonna have 7 minutes to make out with me...one has to wait outside the room and the other gets my attention.", he demands, arms crossed.

"HUH!?"

"That's your payback!?"

"It's just this one time, though. I don't need Shitty Hair being in my ear about the shit."

"Um... excuse us.", Madi says, pulling Sunako out the room for a bit.

"Uh, what's going on with him!?", she whisper-yells.

"Hell if I know.", Sunako shrugs.

"B-but he's your BOYFRIEND! I'm not even attracted to him!"

"Just calm down. He said it was just this once.", Sunako smiles nervously, looking at the door.

"I'm not ready at all...", Madi says.

"I know. Just relax.", Sunako says.

"Babe, c'mere.", both girls froze hearing his voice.

"He's gonna murder me...", Sunako whispers.

"Good luck!", Madi whispers back, as Sunako walks inside.

Bakugou's leaning on the wall, arms crossed and watching Sunako with a playful glare. "Get over here."

Sunako walks over to him hesitantly, but gets pulled and pinned to the wall.

She looks at him with widened eyes as he smirks. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

She blushes with a pout. "Party pooper..."

"What was that? Speak up.", he whispers in her ear, making her freeze.

"N-nothing...it was nothing.", she says. He chuckles deeply and kisses her neck all the way up to her cheek, biting the shell of her ear, making her jolt.

"K-katsu...", she gets cut off with a deep kiss, as his calloused hands go lower.

She grips his shirt tightly, as he brings her closer, grinding against her.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a thin line of saliva connecting the both of them.

"B-baka...fine you're a good kisser."

He kisses her neck again, leaving a mark. "Damn straight."

He lets her go, not before giving a smack to her back side.

"Baka!", she leaves, and sticks her tongue out at him, making him smirk.

"You okay?", Madi asks her.

Sunako looks at her in embarrassment. "I'm okay."

"Mads, your turn.", Madi heard him from the room.

'Okay, I can do this. Just like he said, it's just this once.'

She walks inside, seeing him on the bed, beckoning her to walk over.

She does and he pulls her down on top of him. "B-bakugou!?"

"What happened to all the confidence earlier?", he asks, smirking, lowering his hand on her waist.

"Not so funny now, huh? After all, you made me wear that maid outfit, Madi.", he says, smirking.

"I-i..."

'This is too much...he said my nickname...and smiling!?'

"B-bakugou-"

"No. No talking. It's payback time.", and with that, he brings her in by the back of her head, and kisses her.

Madi grips his shirt tightly and slowly kisses back.

Bakugou places both his hands on her hips, bringing her closer and holds her tightly, making her whimper.

He grips her chin, making her legs shake and pulls away, both of them panting for air.

He pops her forehead with a flick, making her flinch and grab her head. "Why!?"

"Part of the payback. Get off.", he says and she does.

"Bakagou...", she mutters walking out, rubbing her forehead and making Sunako jump at her presence.

"It's over?", she asks.

"Yup.", Bakugou walks out and leans against his door. "Bet you idiots learned your lesson."

Sunako pouts. "Your payback sucks. You still lost."

He stands straight from his lean, and reaches to tackle her, but misses as she hides behind Madi.

_______________________________________________

Requested by: @xartisticmdx

[jooheonies]

orange you glad (i’m apeeling)

Character(s): reader x changkyun

Genre: uh angst, fluff, smut, crack!fic

Warning(s): tangerine!changkyun, there’s like...fruit-fucking?

Length: 1.4k

Summary: In which you’re dating Hyungwon, but damn that tangerine on the countertop looks like a whole meal.

A/N: this is for my baji @wonhosjaan whomst supported me thru the whole entire process!!! and for everyone that requested an infidelity fic!! this is for u all!

You heave a staggered breath, gnawing on your lower lip as you shoot the fascinating being on your right a surreptitious glance.

“D–don’t look at me like that,” you stutter, hands clenched tightly in your lap. “I have a boyfriend! We can’t do this!”

Changkyun doesn’t reply, merely opting to stare at you from his seat on the kitchen countertop, tantalizingly and seductively.

You suck in a breath, shuddering at the sexual tension that fills the room. It’s wrong, so, so wrong, but when you look again at Changkyun, you find that you can’t even look away.

His complexion, smooth and orange and waxy, seems to beckon you . . . like a big creek with lots of waves that you just want to . . . lick. You admire his physique, curvy and round, biting your lip at the way the light from the kitchen window shines on his curves.

In that moment, you fall in love.

/

It had all started an hour ago, when you were helping Hyungwon’s parents, Susan and Harold, go grocery shopping for the boys back at the dorms. You offered to help with putting away the groceries when the three of you returned to the dorms, leaving you alone.

You hastily unpacked all the vegetables, placing them in the lower drawers of the refrigerator. As you emptied the fruits into the woven basket on the countertop, a strange feeling spread through your body.

You glanced down at the bag of tangerines in your hand, suspiciously aware of something . . . or rather, someone staring at you.

The most beautiful creature in existence is you response, nestled carefully on top of the other yucky, less deserving tangerines in the bag.

You pulled it out, a soft gasp escaping your lips at the smooth skin, his scent soft and fresh, like summer.

“H–hey Mr. Tangerine,” you stuttered, a blush blossoming over your cheeks like a fire engine. “What’s your name?” You waited, but he didn’t respond. “No need to be shy,” you giggled seductively now desperate to get to know him. Fingers bringing him up to your ear, you wait for a response. “What? Im Changkyun?” You repeat, brows furrowed. “Changkyun?” Your tongue swipes out of your mouth of a second, brushing over your lower lip. “Oh wow, that’s a sexy name.”

You leaned forward, batting your lashes before you remembered where you were, quickly pulling back.

After all, you had a boyfriend. A, amazing, handsome boyfriend, you convinced yourself, walking over to the couch, trying to ignore Changkyun’s piercing gaze.

You fan yourself with a hand as you sit on the couch, rigid.

Is it hot in here?

/

It’s how you find yourself, not fifteen minutes later, surrendering to the passion wildly thrumming in your heart.

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” you murmur seductively, standing from the sofa to saunter over to him, hips swaying, “then I‘ll just have to get your juices flowing.”

And with that, you’re bringing him over to the sofa, carefully placing him on the armrest.

You flutter your lashes and lean over, eyes hooded. “So . . . tell me about yourself, Im Changkyun.”

An hour later, Changkyun has told you about his childhood, growing up in Mexico (his english was so good, though!) and his birthday and even his circumference! You guys are like . . . best friends.

But it seems that Changkyun, too, had finally succumbed to the sexual tension in the air.

He’s starting to come onto you, rolling off the armrest and into your lap, or rolling off the sofa and onto the floor, so you’d have to bend down to pick him up.

“Woah, you’re hot,” he murmurs as you rise, the collar of your shirt exposing ample cleavage.

Your cheeks flush a bright red, spluttering bashful denials.

It’s definitely getting hot.

You can’t hold back anymore.

“If you insist, Changkyun,” you finally sigh, laying back on the sofa and hiking your skirt up.

You reach for another tangerine from the coffee table, fondling the fruit. Bringing it to your lips, you let your teeth gently scrape over the skin, relishing in the crisp scent. God, Hyungwon sure doesn’t smell like this.

You squeeze the tangerine, so hard the juices leak all over your fingers and stream down your wrist. “Ah ah ah,” you hum, giggling cutely, “I shouldn’t be wasteful!” You started to stroke yourself with the juices before plunging a citrus-coated finger into your entrance. It burns a little, but it’s so so good.

You use Changkyun’s second cousin, once removed, to lube yourself up because you’re kinky like that.

“Ready?” You whisper lustfully, bringing Changkyun up, fingers shaking with anticipation as you bring him to your entrance. As you push him in, his girth stretching you, your eyes flutter shut, moaning at the delicious feeling.

A large moan comes out of your mouth. Ah, Changkyun feels so good.

You begin pushing him in and out, moaning at the feeling of him stretching your walls.

“Yeah, Changkyun,” you mewl, clawing at the couch cushion with your free hand, “right there!”

Just as a familiar feeling begins to pool deep in your stomach, you hear the tell-tale sound of the door clicking open, eyes widening as you turn to find Hyungwon, Susan, and Harold standing there, their expressions matching yours.

“B–baby!” Hyungwon shouts, voice shocked and scared, “what’s this?” His eyes flit around the room, taking in the destroyed tangerine, the stained couch, and finally, Changkyun, still steady pushing into you. You moan loudly at the worst of times.

Susan and Harold watch you with shocked expressions as you finally come undone with a shout of Changkyun’s name.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath like a breathless person. Then, clearing your throat and standing, you give Hyungwon a cold look.

“I’m sorry Hyungwon, but I’ve found someone else. You and me? We’re over.” And with that, you’re scooping Changkyun up and stalking forwards. Susan and Harold stare at you in horror as you brush past them, slamming the door shut behind you.

Good riddance.

/

Four weeks pass by with Changkyun, the love of your life, before you start to notice he looks a little . . . iffy.

“Changkyun?” You call out, but to no avail. “Im Changkyun? Baby?” He doesn’t respond.

You rush to the hospital. One of the doctor’s there is your friend, so you bust his door open, rushing in as tears stream down your cheeks.

“M–Minhyuk,” you babble mindlessly, tears streaming down your cheeks, “s–something’s wrong with Changkyun?”

Minhyuk gives you a confused look. “Who?”

“My boyfriend!” You wail, throwing your head back. “Changkyun!”

Minhyuk looks at you suspiciously. “Alright then, where is he?”

You pout at him through watery tears. “Right here.” Your fingers hold Changkyun in your hand, thrusting him out for Minhyuk to look at.

Minhyuk immediately scrunches up his nose, backing away. “Oh, gross!”

Another wail makes its’ way past your lips at his reaction. “I knew it! How sick is he? What’s wrong with him.”

Minhyuk gives you an incredulous look. “Ah, well,” he clears his throat, eyeing you warily, “it seems that the tangerine there–”

“Changkyun.”

“ . . . Right. Changkyun there seems to have rotted.”

Your jaw pops open as you look back at Changkyun. “Impossible! He and I just took a bath the other day! A sexy bubble bath!”

Then, you notice some things, much like a detective would. Changkyun’s skin is mottled, no longer firm and plump, and his physique is more lumpy now, covered in something that looks like moss.

You wail a sob of grief, mourning the loss of your lover.

Suddenly, a tremor seizes your body, arms and legs shaking like earthquakes shake things. Death, by shock, you calmly muse, listening as Minhyuk screams for help.

A trickle of blood seeps out of your mouth as you fall to the floor, body wracking with tremors. You catch a glimpse of Minhyuk’s horror-stricken face as you bring Changkyun’s remains close to your lips, planting a kiss on his soft, mushy skin.

“I’ll be with you soon, baby,” you wheeze, smiling as Changkyun whispers how much he loves you.

Your eyes closed, head hitting the ground ungraciously. The coughing and wheezing and tremors ceased.

You’d be with him soon.

A/N: thank u for reading!! 

Masterlist

[wrestlingimagination-blog]

Rejection [Roman Reigns]

requested

Hi could you do a request where reader constantly flirts with Roman n pretends to hate it...until she stops flirting with him one day n he gets jealous seeing reader flirting with someone else?? They end up together please

COME THRU DADDY REIGNS YEESSS

also this is kinda long?? i was gonna split it up into two parts but I ended it kinda short sO IF YOU WANT PART TWO PLEASE SHOOT ME AN ASK

“Hey, big guy,” you grinned, biting down on your bottom lip as you leaned against the locker room wall, watching Roman lace his boots. He shot a look at you, smiling somewhat.

“Uh, hi,” he responded, eyes flickering away from yours to disrupt the brief eye contact. He swallowed, showing clear discomfort. You sighed, feeling your wistful feelings flutter away, but you persisted. 

“Watcha doin’?” You questioned, smiling at him sweetly.

“Just... lacin’ up for my match,” he said, voice bland.

This was a regular occurrence for the two of you. You were extremely interested in Roman, having gotten to know him through bumping into him at the gym and in the hallways. He was good to talk to, and extremely good looking, but he was very hot and cold. You’d flirt with him and he’d brush it off or ignore your advances. However, whenever you drifted off and understood his silent rejection, he’d always shoot you a wink or a smirk or a playful word or two, dragging you right back to him.

“Oh. Okay,” you said briefly, hesitating before turning away. “Good luck, I suppose,” you sighed, clenching your fist before turning away and slamming the door shut behind you. You winced, realizing you were being childish, but you rolled your eyes and walked away.

                                                             ***

                                               Three Weeks Later

After no real conversation with Roman, and you deciding it’d be better to ignore his cheeky grins down the hallway, you decided to push aside your feelings for him and pursue someone who paid attention to you and who had a mutual interest in you. 

“You’re so funny,” you laughed, playfully slapping Dolf on the shoulder who laughed along with you. 

“Thanks! I dabble in stand-up comedy every now and then, you know,” he said with a grin, “I like to keep my options open.”

“Really?” You grinned and bit down on your bottom lip. “That’s so awesome.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to bring you down to one of my shows sometimes,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I bet you’d love for me to ‘go down’,” you laughed, your immature sense of humor getting the best of you.

Dolph burst out laughing before calming down and rubbing his chin. “Well, geez-”

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

You turned your head, lifting your eyes to meet Roman’s, who towered over you, his hair dripping and his forehead shining with sweat from exertion during his match that had taken place only moments ago. 

Exchanging a look with Dolph, you promised your return before following Roman around the corner.

“What’s all that about?” He questioned, nodding in the direction of where you had walked from.

“What do you mean?” You questioned, your eyebrows creasing together in confusion.

“You and Dolph. Since when was that a thing?” He rolled his eyes, almost as if it were obvious what he meant.

You frowned. “I’m single, Roman. It was just flirting. What’s the problem?”

“It’s just strange how quickly you jump from guy to guy-”

Your eyebrows shot up and your mouth hung open a little from his abrupt statement. “Excuse me? Jump from guy to guy?”

Roman’s jaw clenched and his eyes flickered away from yours, showing his clear discomfort and regretful choice of words.

“Are you calling me a slut?”

“No, I’m not-”

“Yes, you are.”

“Look, I’m not, you’re taking it the wrong way,” Roman huffed as you rolled your arms. 

“How am I supposed to take it, then? Please, enlighten me,” you said smugly, your voice drenched in sarcasm. You realized silently that you were probably being a little dramatic, but you still had pent up toxic feelings toward the Samoan who stood centimeters from yourself, given how many times he had turned you down. And now here he was, accusing you of jumping from guy to guy?

He sighed. “I thought that-” he clenched his jaw, looking somewhat uncomfortable, “I thought that we were, you know,” he gestured between the two of you. “I thought there was something happening between us.”

“This isn’t high school, Roman,” you rolled your eyes, “we’re adults. Yes, I’m interested in you. I made my advances and you made it clear you weren’t interested. That doesn’t scream that there was something ‘happening between us’.”

“I never said I wasn’t interested,” he scoffed. 

“Well, I’m sorry you didn’t have the balls to tell me otherwise, but I’m talking to somebody else now. You know, someone who actually interacts with me,” you sucked on your teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

You stepped aside and turned away, starting ahead to talk to Dolph, however, Roman caught your wrist and gently pulled you back.

“Come on, now,” he sighed. “Look, I never meant to make you resent me. I’m sorry, alright? Just let me talk.”

You sighed and crossed your arms. “Alright. Talk.”

“I mean, I was nervous, you know? I mean, with all the girls that flirt-”

You scoffed.

“-that flirt with me,” Roman shot an eyebrow up. “I never thought your advances meant anything. It’s hard to distinguish who’s genuine and who’s not around here. The place is swarming with cash cows and golddiggers,” he pointed out, causing you to tilt your head in understanding. “So, I’m sorry that I turned you down all that time. I thought you were never being serious which is why I never asked you out.”

“Okay.” You said simply.

“Okay?” He frowned. “Is that it?”

“What do you mean, ‘is that it’? Roman, we haven’t spoke in almost a month and... look, I need to think about this,” you muttered, looking down at the floor and shaking your head. “I’ll, um, catch you later.”

                                                            ***

                                                 One Week Later

“Hey,” you said quietly, peeking your hotel door open before pushing it to reveal Roman on the other side. “Come in.”

Roman’s eyes took in the sight of your hotel room; fairly plain, and a lot less luxurious than his own. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” you began, your bare feet patting over to the beige couch which you sat upon, inviting Roman to do so himself, smiling as he slumped into the plush creases. “I’m glad we spoke.”

“Me, too,” he admitted, biting on his thumbnail, clearly anxious to hear what you had to say.

“Dolph and I didn’t work out,” you admitted with a soft smile, “he was talking to multiple women and wasn’t too upset when I told him I wasn’t interested in him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Roman said sincerely.

“Don’t be,” you grinned, “I mean, it all worked out, didn’t it?”

“Did it?” His eyes searched yours hopefully.

“Do you want this, Roman?” You asked him, gesturing between the two of you.

“Yes.” He answered, no amount of hesitation in his voice.

You blew out a huff of air, a smile of relief on your face. “Oh, god, me too.”

“So let me make it official,” Roman jumped to it. “Over dinner? Over a takeout and a movie? You tell me.”

“A movie sounds nice,” you flushed. 

“Chinese?” Roman guessed, raising a brow.

“My favourite.” You confirmed.

“Good,” he lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles, shooting you a suave smirk and a wink. “Tonight at eight?”

“I’ll be ready.”

[cursetheground]

God’s Eye

  Senior year, Naomi Trazzi became a permanent fixture in the guidance office. Each week, it was something new: threatening a strip tease in the boy’s locker room, acting out an explicit puppet show with the frogs in biology, planting hallucinogenic mushrooms in horticulture’s model landscape. But every week, it was more of the same. She’d sit across from Miss K and whittle away at the desk with a sharpened pencil while her counselor floundered to instill her with some sort of moral consciousness.

  Colleges are watching, K would tell Naomi. The choices you make now could affect your future. The rest of your life.

  This week, the charges levied were something to the tune of smoking in the girl’s room.

  “What do you care anyway?” Naomi, bored of her whittling, propped her foot up on the desk’s edge and stabbed the pencil into her boot’s thick rubber heel. “I’m 18. It’s not like it’s illegal.”

  Miss K lunged forward and snatched the pencil. “It’s prohibited on school grounds. Which I’m sure is why you did it.”

  Naomi clicked her tongue. “We can agree this is the tamest I’ve been though, yeah?”

  “If you classify exposing your fellow students to cancerous chemicals as ‘tame,’ then yes.” Miss K slid open a drawer & rifled through its confiscated innards – a crinkled bag of chips that hadn’t been allowed in detention, a Confederate pride pennant, a can of spray paint, a pair of craft scissors – searching for the perfect place to stow the writing utensil.

  Naomi stomped her heel into the desk.

  Miss K startled, dropping the pencil next to a warped tech deck dude and his accompanying board, now little more than spaghettified plastic.  

  Ten minutes after Naomi would leave, River Albright would come to reclaim these items. He’d been bereft of them when he’d “accidentally” launched the miniature skateboard across his chemistry class into a beaker of sulfuric acid.

  Miss K’s eyes fixed on Naomi as the drawer slammed closed. “There’s something else.”

  Naomi’s brow ticked. “Isn’t there always.”

  The counselor braced herself with a sigh. “… We’ve spoken many times about your grades-”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Naomi tore apart the split ends of her lopsided pigtails with chewed fingernails. “Colleges don’t like me. I know.”

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than that.”

  Naomi’s eyes flicked up.

  Miss K wet her lips. “You won’t be graduating.”

  Naomi blinked.

  “You’d have to ace all your finals to pass,” Miss K’s voice quickened, “which, based on your attendance…” She shrugged.

  Naomi withdrew her foot from the desk. She circled her arms around herself. Her gaze retreated out the window.

  “It’s not the end of the world.” Miss K reached out. Halfway across the desk, she realized her arms would never cover the distance. She folded her hands instead. “You’ll have to retake this year, yes, but you’ll have a leg up on the material, and you can take advantage of the extra time to build up your resume…”

  Naomi hadn’t moved. Her mouth hung ajar, tongue paused against the back of her teeth, a girl frozen in time. Some part of her had gone away out there – had slipped through the blinds and taken off running.

  “I know you hate it when I bring this up,” Miss K tried, “but if this behavior is some way of… of preserving Tawna’s memory-”

  “Her memory?” Naomi’s head snapped forward. “Is that how you remember her?”

  Miss K was suddenly overcome with the hollow-boned cold one might feel upon opening the front door to discover a hornet’s nest. She pulled the knit shawl tighter about her shoulders, and she tried.

  “I remember having conversations like this with both of you.” She spoke slowly, using each pause to scan Naomi with an infrared gaze – checking for a tick of the eyebrow, a flinching lid, a tensing shoulder, any gauge of the girl’s temperature. “And I know that one way people sometimes try to process grief is by rooting themselves in old habits-”

  “Bad habits.” Naomi’s mouth hardened into a line.

  Miss K withdrew her hands to her lap.

  “Come on, teach.” A vein twitched in Naomi’s temple. “Say it like you mean it.”

  K swallowed. “One week detention for the smoking, starting Monday. We’ll set a meeting to discuss next year’s course load as soon as I know my schedule.”

  Naomi fisted her bookbag and swept from her seat. Miss K shouted at her retreating back, “I’m always here if you need-”  

  “Whatever.” Naomi didn’t turn her head.

  Her locker got the better of her in her rage. She kept rotating over the digits of her combination: a product of either zeal or trembling hands. The second she finally sprang it, she clawed inside and began scattering books, hurling them onto the floor. When she exhausted her texts, she moved on to her scarf, her gym bag, her coat.

  When the coat hit the tile, it spat up something shiny. The clank of the something cut through the pulse of blood in Naomi’s ears. And when she saw what it was, she threw herself down after it.

  A silver zippo, ferruginous in its old age. On its side, a sticker inspired by a recovered zippo from the Vietnam War.

 Thoe I walk thru the valley  of the shadow of death,  I fear no evil, for I  am the meanest mother fucker in the valley.

                                                  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

  Less than a year ago, Tawna held that zippo to Naomi’s mouth and lit a blunt. They were on their backs on the faux fur rug occupying more than half Tawna’s floor, the rug so soft it felt like the real thing. So soft, you could sink right in.

  Naomi’s head was on Tawna’s stomach, her ear pressed against Tawna’s bottom rib. When everything else in the room was quiet, the quiver of Tawna’s heartbeat rattled Naomi’s eardrum.

  They were decompressing, or commiserating, while Tawna’s father stampeded around downstairs. A rejection letter peeked out at them from the top of the waste bin.

  UCLA was Tawn’as first pick. She was their last.

  “It’s all bullshit,” Naomi declared, waving the blunt idly about. “Art programs aren’t supposed to care about your grades.”

  “They didn’t.” Tawna pinched the blunt from Naomi’s ever-loosening grip. “It was my portfolio. I didn’t make the cut.”

  She took a long drag. Held it in her chest til she choked. When the coughing settled, she passed the blunt back to Naomi.

  “Rhode Island didn’t want me either.” She leaned back. Let her skull knock against the floor. “I’m never getting out of here.”

  “That’s not all bad.” Naomi lifted her head through a cloud of her own smoke. “Is it?”

  Tawna picked herself up on her elbows. She saw Naomi’s wide, nocturnal eyes, and a smile worked its way through her. “No.” She held the blunt to her lips with one hand and rested the other between Naomi’s topknots. Pressed her thumb into the crease of Naomi’s brow.

  That’s how her father found them: his baby girl’s hand massaging another girls’ scalp, smoking.

  Naomi tried not to think about what came next – the shouting, the slurring, the threatening. She tried not to think about Tawna pushing her father out of the way so Naomi could escape down the stairs.

  She tried not to think about any of it.

                                                 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “You staging a sit-in or something?” River Albright leered over her, twirling his recovered tech deck like a fidget spinner.

  Naomi stuffed the zippo back in pocket and scrambled to her feet. River offered his arm, which she dodged. He used that same arm to scratch the nape of his neck instead. “So, uh, you comin tonight?”

  “Coming?”

  “Tyler found this place out by Saw Hill.”

  Naomi sucked her teeth.

  “I know you haven’t been since what happened with Tawna.” River stowed the tech deck. I just thought-”

  “You’d think some girl OD’ing at one of your dumbass parties would make you, like…” Naomi’s eyes flicked to the side as she searched for the phrase, “I dunno, not have them.”

  River stepped back. “We look out for each other. You know that.”

  Naomi kneeled to gather her books. He sank with her, tugging her gym bag toward him by the strap. “Tawna was on some other shit. You know that, too.”

  Naomi leaned to grab the bag from his hands, but River swung it onto his shoulder.

  “Look, Ny, we’re just tryna blow off some steam before we get hit by the Great Big Real, alright? You seem like the type who could use that.”

  Naomi ripped the bag off of him. “You can go now.”

  River’s hands went up. “I’m going.” He stood. “But I’m texting you the address.”

  Naomi raised her head to argue, but found herself staring at his retreating Timberland soles.  

  Once that mustard yellow rubber faded from her eyeline, she took out the lighter and turned it over in her hands.

  Tawna gave it to Naomi the night she died. She climbed the tree outside Naomi’s bedroom and asked Naomi to come with her – blow off being grounded, blow off school, blow off the whole town of Bumfuck, Nowhere.

  But Naomi came from a line of college graduates. Had a D in Spanish. Was already on thin ice with her mother for the disciplinary call about her & Tawna skipping class. So Tawna pressed the zippo into Naomi’s palm told her she had to go.

  Like, go go. Like go and never come back.

  Naomi assumed she meant running away.

                                                 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The place by Saw Hill was about as dingy as anyone who partied in abandoned houses would expect: peeling paint, holey walls, rotting floorboards. Naomi had shown up half a flask deep, and had only sunken deeper.

  Presently, she found herself staring down a patch of floor losing the war against termites. She felt a strong sense of kinship with that patch of floor – with those gnawed edges, and the darkness behind them. Like insects were chewing holes in her, too.  

  “You made it!” A River-colored shape materialized from the din, double-fisting SOLO cups. He passed one behind Naomi’s head, seizing the opportunity to get an arm around her. Naomi nabbed the cup from his hand and emptied it all down her throat.

  “That kinda vibe, huh?” River nudged her.

  Naomi gasped as she came up for air.

  “You might like this, then.” River fished something from his pocket: a tab of acid screen-printed with a cartoon pierced tongue.

  Naomi blinked down at that tab. Reached out to brush it with her fingertips.

  Tawna had a pierced tongue. It glinted every time she laughed.

  Naomi peeled the tab from River’s hand, sat it in her mouth, let her natural acids go to work.

  River’s arm went around her again. He was warmer against her shoulders than the air of the old house. He nudged her in the direction of the basement steps.

  “C’mon,” he egged. “Real party’s downstairs.”

                                                ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Downstairs was a haze of muddy colors and weed smoke. Tyler and the rest of River’s friends filled a wraparound couch in the corner like a booth of mob bosses playing hot potato with a bong.

  Some of them might’ve said of hi to Naomi. Several of them may have even made conversation. She would only hear a phrase or two, then suddenly she’d be on the tail end of it, watching whomever she’d been talking to turn to talk to someone else.

  There were only two constants: River and beer.

  Every time Naomi left the couch to get more of the latter, the former would follow. Then they’d return to the couch, and he’d put his hand on her thigh, only her thigh was a yard away.

  Every now and again he would whisper something in her ear, and it would be the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Then he’d kiss her earlobe, and that’d be funny, too. Then he’d kiss behind her ear, and that’d be funny, then the side of her neck, and that’d be funny, then her collar bone, and that’d be hysterical.

  Then he’d kiss the corner of her jaw, and she’d turn to giggle in his face – only his eyes would be burning. And that wasn’t funny at all.

  He kissed her on the mouth. She didn’t laugh.

  He asked if she wanted to come upstairs.

  She let him lead her.

  The voyage upstairs felt buoyant, like treading water. The waves stayed there, stirring air under her chin until the kissing resumed.

  After that, focus was paramount. River was a moving target – bobbing, weaving. Less than half Naomi’s kisses found their mark.

  River seemed to be having similar troubles. He’d go to kiss her hip, but it wouldn’t be where he thought it was. He’d go to kiss her breast, but it’d be rolling away.

  He had to anchor her to the floor so she wouldn’t drift.

  All the rest was like riding a bicycle: feet here, hands here, sit here. More mouths involved, though. It hurt Naomi’s brain less to let River steer.

  Everything was the same.

  Except, nothing was the same.

  River’s hands were not Tawna’s hands. River’s lips were not Tawna’s lips. River’s tongue wasn’t pierced. Couldn’t do the things Tawna’s could. Naomi reached out to hold Tawna’s head and found her fingers in River’s hair.

  River didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t Tawna. He wasn’t stopping. He didn’t see anything wrong.

  So there wasn’t anything wrong, Naomi decided, and she leaned her head back, and she closed her eyes.She crawled through the edges of that gnawed hole into an all-black world and let herself be eaten.  

                                              ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  

  When the tide went out, Naomi followed it to the bathroom. The porcelain felt heavy underneath her. It had all this gravity that kept pulling her sideways. For a moment after she finished, that gravity become too much for her to move, like she’d lost her own gravity in the go. Like she’d peed all her matter out.

  River was smoking a cigarette when she came back. She joined him at the window.

  That was something, he said.

  She meant to grab his collar, but she reached too far and nudged him instead. Sounds burbled in her.

  Let’s go for a drive, she said.

  They had minimal trouble finding River’s car, but then River couldn’t seem to fit his keys in the lock.

  Ny, he said, I’m too fucked up to drive.

  When Naomi took the keys from him, she let her fingertips linger on his palm. He didn’t argue with those fingertips.

  She let her hair loose as she settled in the driver’s seat. Something about the way the steering column fit between her legs made River’s jaw hang. She shook her hair out, and his jaw plummeted further. Naomi slammed her foot on the gas.

  Within minutes, River’s jaw filled with screams. He screamed out open windows, the air rushing past him. Naomi drove in a straight line, but the road kept curving under her. So of course, she had to swerve to keep up.

  Slow down!

  She almost didn’t hear River shout against the wind: Ny, slow down!

  Naomi didn’t want to slow down.

  Slow felt like sinking into a carpet of plastic fibers. Slow felt like the trickle of Tawna’s fingers on her scalp. Slow felt like bumping into Tawna’s ribcage on purpose just so she could hear the rhythm of her. Slow felt like staring down the barrel of a second semester of senior year with no Tawna, no future.

  NAOMI, River shouted. FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

  But his voice wasn’t his. And he wasn’t the one shouting anymore.

  They whipped around another corner into a pair of oncoming headlights. The lights swelled and melted together. Like staring down the face of heaven.

  One big glow.

  And if Naomi squinted, it was the light in Tawna’s door – the light falling on a man’s face, red and swollen with rage, ready to direct all the kinetic energy building taut in his veins onto the Naomi tripping down the stairs. But Tawna’s body blocked his. Tawna stood stock still before the shadow of death, looked over her shoulder, and told Naomi: Go.

  River screamed something else – maybe a prayer, maybe a warning. His voice was bowled over by the force of the other car’s horn. They sounded the same to Naomi. It was all the same.

  River reached over. Tried to rip the wheel out of her hands. But she was anchored now.

  I have to go, she said.

  And she thought, driving straight through the middle of God’s eye: I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.

This story was published in the 2019 issue of The Underground Pool (link when available).