#I just want to sleep through the rest of july man

[imwritesometimes]

I'll believe it when I see it

[kithtaehyung]

lollipop (3tan) (m) | myg

title: lollipop (m) | part one: summer bbq pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after the summer cookout ends, you say goodnight to your brother and his best friend. but the latter just had to have a lollipop in his mouth… and had to make you aware of it hours later.  note: this is part two of the three tangerines drabble summer bbq! undisclosed whether these are in the main storyline or not, so it’s a standalone for now. note 2: also..... hope y'all read this in private :))) hahahah  warnings: yoongi is the biggest warning, but reader almost inches him out here🤭, no joke we may need to form a new line for reader, kissing, hella kissing, a mirror makes an appearance.. 🫣, tense situations, tender moments, lollipop gets its own warning i’m so serious, cocky yoongi lolll explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: july 22nd, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 7.3k💀💀💀

explicit warnings: food play (just roll with it😂), oral sex (m/f rec), masturbation, the struggle to keep quiet is real, mirrors are involved lord have mercy, spanking, breast play, multiple orgasms, yoongi hands, choking, fingering, face f*cking, titty shotsss, a little bit of manhandling and roughness but we love it🤭🤭, aftercare and cute cute reader afterwards

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—

It’s not long until you’re snuggled under your covers, every limb in your body relieved to be at rest. From getting ready, cooking for hours, to general host duties—all while trying to avoid sin in human form—you’ve completely exhausted your living battery. 

But for some reason, sleepiness is out of reach. 

Tiredness? For sure. But sleep seems to elude you, and you toss and turn before giving up and turning your television on. 

It’s after you get through two episodes of something random and endless doomscrolling that you get a text. 

From the last person that should be texting you right now.

And your heart slams on every brake it has.

Yoongi [2:37am]: You up?  

Umm.

What.

Why is he asking you that? It’s quite possibly the worst time and type of message to receive right now. 

Don’t overthink it. He probably just needs extra hands to drag your brother back to his room again.

You [2:37am]: mmhmm 

You [2:37am]: you need me for something?

With a sigh, you rest your phone by your side.

The last time that happened was so long ago. Back when you were fighting off sickness and absentmindedly grabbing tangerines to snack on.

You wonder what that man wants this time around.

Yoongi [2:37am]: Haha nah

Yoongi [2:37am]: Just curious

Well that’s interesting.

Is he still in the backyard? Somewhere in the house? You knew he was staying over, but is he in the guest room with Jimin lying down like you are?

Why is that making your soul squeeze? 

You [2:38am]: yeah i am. can’t sleep :\

After hitting send, you feel more awake than ever, staring at your ceiling changing hues from the light of your tv. 

It kinda hurts knowing Yoongi’s the closest he could be tonight. 

On one hand, you still remain feeling safer than ever, having all of them here. But on the other, you’d much rather Yoongi be right next to you, heart beating under the same covers and eyes covering you in moonlight.

He’s so close and yet… 

So damn far. 

Yoongi [2:39am]: Same. 

Your arm slings right over your eyes.

How is one word from him enough to make your legs shift? That is something that needs to be studied, but alas, you would only be the subject if someone paid you for it.

What do you say now? You miss him so much it practically hurts? You want him to be lying next to you even though it’s the riskiest thing in the world?

Maybe start slow.

You [2:40am]: did you have fun today? 

Shit, was that a little too slow? Abnormal? It’s not like you two have as much small talk as other people. Though you wouldn’t mind any type of talking with him at all, casual small talk just isn’t on the list of defaults.

When you check the next text you get, it’s hard to keep your phone from falling onto your face.

Yoongi [2:42am]: I’ll tell you if you open the door :)

Huh.

So much for starting slow what the fuck! 

You [2:43am]: ???

You [2:43am]: front door? 

Yoongi [2:43am]: Yours

There have been many times in which this man has made you speechless. Some just for being so heartstoppingly handsome; others for being the most considerate person you’ve ever met.

But this time?

You can’t even form all the reasons why you can’t form words.

You [2:44am]: ?????

Yoongi [2:44am]: 🤨

Yoongi [2:44am]: Feel like this is pretty easy stuff, doll 

What is happening? What possessed your brother’s legitimate ride or die to stand at your door while still in the same house? When other people are also staying over?

You’re so close. He’s right there. You can see a slight shadow underneath the wooden frame and it’s making your stomach silly.

But you have to be sure.

You [2:45am]: is he asleep? 

Yoongi [2:45am]: Yeah he’s out 

Getting up, you already miss the warmth of your sheets as you tiptoe towards the only thing separating you from the man you’ve yearned for all day long.

Fuck. If this isn’t the worst decision you’re ever gonna make in your life.

But damn it, you already knew you were gonna let him in as soon as he asked.

After checking what you’re wearing before knowing it doesn’t matter, you open your door while fearing what it reveals. 

And Yoongi slowly enters through the night—freshly showered, still studded with jewelry, and decked in clean clothes while dirtying your mind to hell.

Because of the goddamn lollipop in his mouth.

“What’s going on,” you whisper, knowing your brother could wake up at any second. Maybe. Possibly. Everything bad is always possible when you’re paranoid about it—especially since Yoongi is in your room! “What are you doing?”

Your secret wastes no time as he quietly shuts and locks the door, hair shifting down his head in damp waves as he takes out the sucker,

“This.”

Silent, he pulls you in slow for a kiss, melting you down with ease. When he presses you into one of your walls, you know the only thing propping you up is his pelvis molding with your front. 

Already, your senses are on high alert, wondering how long Yoongi plans on staying because as much as you want him here forever, you still want him in one piece. 

But it’s getting hard to concentrate on consequences and scenarios when this man is infiltrating your every thought. His lips feel like summer and his fragrance reminds you of spring, and you immediately know it’s that subtly scented body wash you picked to put in the guest bathroom. 

Strange. You both have now used each others’ soap and showers. That has to mean something intimate, right? How many people can say that about one another and not look into it too much?

Well, he technically hasn’t used the shower in your bathr—

“You looked great today,” Yoongi whispers into your neck. 

His kiss there renders you speechless for what seems like eons. Today. Uh huh. What were you thinking just now? “Thank you,” you finally sigh, relishing in the way he’s holding your side. “So did you.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I mean.. You always do, so. Nothing new there.”

Yoongi quietly huffs a laugh before tugging your hips. But he doesn’t say anything in return, and you wonder if he didn’t have an answer or just didn’t feel the need to. 

So your nerves fill the space again. “Is it weird that I missed you? You were here the whole time.” 

“Mm.” His kisses traverse up your shivering throat, and his raspy answer has your eyes fluttering shut, “I get that.”

Fuck, you can’t deal with him. “Is.. Is that so..”

“People miss me all the time.”

A snort. “Ass.”

Yoongi immediately laughs into your skin. “But they aren’t here now, are they?” When you don’t respond with anything substantial, he squeezes the side of your ass. “Are they.”

“No,” you hitch out. “But you shouldn’t be here, either.”

“Tell me to leave then.”

Shit. You can’t. You both know you can’t. You try so hard to stifle a moan when you feel Yoongi grip an asscheek, his lips finding your ear at the same time he gives a firm smack.

“Do it, doll.”

“I…” Fuck, he’s surrounding you and there’s no way no way out. “I can’t.”

“Good.” Yoongi then slides your hand from his side down to his legs, placing it on his very big, very hard length. “Cus I can’t fucking stay away from you.” 

You grip him through his pants, pleased when he moans deep. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t,” your handsome rebel purrs. “Drank for hours.”

“You sure?”

“Course I am.” Yoongi slides a finger along the outline of your breasts. “He tried to keep up and lost.”

“Typical.” 

He keeps doing exactly what you want him to do. It’s quite scary how well he knows your body now, but you’d also like to think you have a good level of knowledge with his.

Especially when you reach up to twist his nipple. 

A groan mixed with dark chuckles has your knees shaking, and you prolong it by doing something else you know—or think you know—he likes,

“I think you’d like it if I kicked you out now.”

The volcano inside Yoongi rumbles. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you huff out in mock triumph, loving how his cock twitches against your hand. “Or am I wrong?”

He flicks his eyes to yours before holding a gaze. A look so telling, and full, and searing. When his mouth flicks upward, he admits,

“I’d love it.”

Laughing as softly as you can, you stop to simply hug him. Leaning forward until your head rests, feeling the most at home and happy hearing his own amusement vibrating through his clothes. 

And just like that, you’re conflicted. 

What the hell are you doing? Even though passed out and sloshed, your brother could still wake up. It’s not like he’s totally gone. And if he catches his best friend in your room? There’s no telling what damage could be dealt.

Actually, the damage could be told in gruesome detail.

But the way Yoongi’s filling the distance from today, you really don’t want to stop. In fact, you don’t even want to pretend to shoo him off.

So this is your first step onto a precarious, unpredictable tightrope. A step you are very okay taking. 

“Babe?”

Shit, you got lost again. When you find your way back, Yoongi’s concern materializes at once,

“If you really aren’t down—”

“Fuck it.” 

Your kiss digs into his face so hard you strike gold, rewarded with a growl so potent it disrupts your core. Lightning zaps through your veins at the hands squeezing your hips, and you buck with a desperation that’s been stockpiling all day long.

Sliding along the wall, you notice that Yoongi tastes like alcohol and sugar, and you wanna lick every crevice you can reach, drunk off his cockiness and audacity alone. 

It’s no use fighting this. He’s really in your room, making out with you like a demon while the house is filled with your brother’s sleeping friends.

Fuck, you two could really get caught here.

The swirl in your belly keeps you on your toes, transforming your movements into sharp, hasty tugs on his clothes, hemlines, hair. You’re practically acting like you’ve never had him before and want to make up for all those missed opportunities.

Not like it’s any different every time.

But you’re quelled by a calm hand on your wrist. “As much as I like you like this,” Yoongi whispers across your cheek, “You can’t be too loud, baby girl.”

Your silent question must’ve escaped past your teeth. Because you hear a deep chuckle before shivers run down your spine,

“If you aren’t quiet enough I’m gonna fix that.”

Oh. Fuck.

“I didn’t even know I was talking,” you admit, body creasing in embarrassment and a bit of nervous laughs. Your grin cannot be contained by the fingers you slide up to cover it. “Oh, my god.” 

“What?” Yoongi’s devilish look is even more potent in the flashing lights of your television. “You serious?”

When you scrunch in deeper admittance, he flashes teeth with a wider smile than yours. It’s a prelude to the way he launches your heartbeat, his scent mesmerizing and his fingers lethal on the back of your neck. 

“Adorable.”

You groan into his swooping kiss, the rush of a thousand rivers carrying you to bliss. Breaths intertwined, the pair of you can’t seem to part until Yoongi accidentally shoulders something at his side.

Your mirror? When did you both travel so far that you got here? 

He lets off with a pop to steady the wavering furniture piece, pausing to make sure it’s stable before looking at the movie playing nearby.

And you watch in curiosity as he backs further into your room, eyeing himself in the mirror while slotting the sucker back into his mouth.

God. How did you forget he was still holding that?

And why can’t you move even as he turns around, even as he glances at the tv, even as he sits on the edge of your bed?

Move. Walk. Do something!

In the end, you can’t.

Because Yoongi’s stare alone gives you first time jitters, like you’ve never even conversed or much less slept with him before. 

How the fuck are you gonna get through the night? 

Swallowing and shooting one more look at your door, you pad your way to him, knowing he sees your nipples poking through your shirt and assuming there’s not much else you’re wearing. 

And he’s right. 

As you stop at Yoongi’s knees, you watch as he gives the lollipop another slow suck, groaning at the red smeared across his tainted lips.

That’s it. It’s decided. There’s no way you’re making it out alive.

“Get up here.”

Obliging but unhurried, you mount his lap, your heart skipping at the way he enjoys your shirt riding up your thighs.

So that damn sucker is gonna stay in his mouth? 

Min Yoongi is your enemy tonight.

Your nemesis, in fact. Even if he slides both free hands up your ass like that fuck he squeezes so expertly. Fuck. 

It’s keeping everything in you to hide your moan, your head falling forward as he slightly lifts you to drop you onto his comfy sweats.

When he chuckles in your ear, your muscles lock. And when he pops the lolly out of his mouth, you crumble at his mercy. “You were lucky to be off-limits today, doll.” 

“What…” You tense at another grip to your ass. “What do you mean.”

As you eye the silver around his neck, Yoongi’s smirk pours weight on your legs. “If you weren’t? There’s no telling what I would’ve done.”

You don’t think you’ve ever gulped so deeply. What toe-curling secrets is he hiding? Today could have gone a much, much different route depending on what he’d spill. “Tell… Tell me anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The man below you huffs quick, and you watch the corner of his mouth lift at a dangerous angle. “Would’ve kept you in that bathroom,” he divulges, voice dragging across the rattled surface of your brain. “Bent you over the sink.”  

Your breath hitches when he gets close, lips caressing your ear but words striking through your chest, “Just so you could watch me fuck you in that sundress.” 

“Fuck.”

“Uh uh,” Yoongi coos, chuckle so, so deep. “Quiet, baby girl.”

“I just…” It’s already hard to think around this demon of a person. But it’s even more difficult when he’s got your ear in his teeth. “Wait.” 

As he pulls away, the light of your television highlights his features. And you find that this specific, comforting look of attentiveness is what attracts you the most. 

Now that you can think clearly, you remember exactly what you were gonna do. It’s simple but significant nonetheless. 

Because your dress from today is in the laundry already. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have another one. Another very particular one he may remember, in fact. 

“Go over there,” you whisper, smile wide as you dismount. “Turn around.” 

When he wordlessly asks what you’re up to, a single finger presses against your lips before you assure, “Just trust me.” 

The way his brows scrunch makes your cheeks hurt as you watch him get up and swivel, endeared by the casual lean on your wall and the lollipop stuck in his cheek. Just as his head falls in waiting, you slip into your closet, darkness getting even darker as you enter.

Due to an afterthought, you pop your head out. “No peeking in the mirror.”

“Uh huh.”

Satisfied, you go back to your lightless search. 

You know exactly what you’re going for. It’s too easy for you to locate your chosen piece of clothing before stripping and changing as orderly as you can. 

Okay. This is okay because you’re alone, right? No one else is here. Technically. Okay.

As you make your way out, a million nerves pop and fizzle under moonlight. The air surrounding your bare shoulders proves charged. Electric enough to send shivers down to your pedicured toes.

Composing yourself before you break, you softly catch his attention as you eye the sucker poised in his fingers,

“Ready.”

The moon waits.

Your breath follows.

And when Yoongi turns, you know you’ll never forget this moment. It feels exactly like the time in that restaurant long ago, but more potent. Shimmering. 

Because you’re wearing the same sundress he witnessed you in on the night of Dom’s party. 

And you’ve never been so delighted to see the stars in his eyes go dark.

You expect him to call you over. Whether with words or not, you’re gonna do whatever he wants—because it’s what you want… too…

Yoongi’s aura billows as he closes the distance himself. No words. No gestures. Just step by breath-taking step, air around him so charged and commanding that your knees threaten to buckle. 

For reasons you won’t admit, your mouth can’t even create sounds. All you want to ask is if he likes the dress, or if he even cares you aren’t as dressed up as before. 

Of course he wouldn’t give a single shit. But you can’t stop yourself from these thoughts just yet. 

Swallowing, you stare as he rolls the sucker in his mouth, eyes in no other direction but yours. “You, umm. Does this one work instead? The other one is in the—”

Quick isn’t fast enough to describe what’s happening, your shoulders pressing into the nearest wall as your lips get consumed by lust and possession. Everything in your body tingles, and for a split second you wonder how Yoongi managed to swing you around so swift with barely a sound. 

Stars fly from your eyes before they slip shut, pouring want onto his veins as he circles strong arms across your waist. Sparks erupt the scant distance between your hips and his, and you are once again reminded why you feel so high-strung. 

There are so many people staying over. Not just Yoongi and Jimin. From what you can recall, at least ten people are passed out around the house, any of which could wake up for a bathroom break or something at any second. 

And yet. You will not tell this man to leave. Truthfully, this is exhilarating and all you’re doing is ki—

“Get down there.”

Oh, fuck. 

This is the new point of no return. 

If you do this, not only will Yoongi be a goner, but so will you. Both of you would never, ever come back from this. 

But that fucking lollipop…

Screw everything to hell.

Your smile grows with his, lip bitten in the throes of your newfound excitement. You already feel how rock solid he is through his pants, and you make it a point to stroke him on the way to the ground. 

There’s so little room that your ass skims the wall, your chest the second part to slide along his covered length and causing him to groan out a curse. 

Is there a shift here? Did you change the whole dynamic with one move? Maybe you’re the one with the power now. 

“Look at me.”

Ah. Maybe not.

Obedient, you stare upward, catching the fire in Yoongi’s eyes as he gives the sucker one more pass in his mouth. 

God, he makes it look so enticing. It’s just a piece of candy but you’ve never been this desperate to have one, too. Or be the one treated with his tongue like that goddamn does he have to make it seem so erotic?

With a pop, Yoongi releases the stick, lips shiny and tainted in the television lights. When he lowers it, you realize it’s descending—farther and farther—until it stops in front of your face. 

And shivers overtake you.

“Suck.” 

Well. You’ve never done something like this before. In all the relationships you’ve been in, you have never experienced anything like this. Much less in your own house. 

Which makes your eyes flare and the monster in your belly rumble, fire hissing from its nose and prying your mouth open to do exactly what you were told. 

“That’s my girl.”

Sugar coats your tongue immediately. Glowing, the heat in your core stokes embers, warning with each loll, each cave of your cheeks. You treat the candy so tenderly Yoongi will deny jealousy, and your lips pucker and puff with a sheen. 

Are you glistening as much as his eyes? Are you causing him as much grief as he has put you through?

You damn well hope so. Yoongi isn’t the only one that’s gonna unleash his needs from the whole day. 

So you keep sucking with closed eyes, swirling your tongue around the lolly and licking it just how you would his tip. It tastes like sweet rebellion, but also late nights with your friends. And with a fleeting thought, you know said friends would grill you if they ever found out this was happening.

Maybe Tae would just laugh his ass off. 

Fuck, this is so unbelievably risky. Your door is locked, sure. But the guest room is still very much missing an occupant and one look in there and at Yoongi’s car in the street would cause an eruption.

Through the haze of your thoughts, you hear shuffling and a low droning grunt. 

With one glance, you know Yoongi is crumbling. The shadowed promises under his bangs make you preen, and you remain on the precipice of anxiousness and glee.

“Keep that tongue out for me.”

Clearly, he doesn’t give a shit about risk.

So gladly, you oblige, flinching when the lollipop is replaced by something you’re much more familiar with, and your eyes bat on instinct as you know exactly what to do with this one.

When did he shove his pants down? Were you that lost in your sticky treat that you didn’t even notice? 

Doesn’t matter. You feel his beautiful weight on your stained tongue and it’s second nature to pleasure. When you grab hold of his base, you give one more suck before popping him out of your mouth to lick down.

For someone that’s been shushing you, Yoongi’s groan is not quiet, and you pause just in time to see him grit his teeth with a nose scrunched to hell.

And his attention is sideways. What is he…

Oh. Fuck.

You can see yourself in your mirror on the other wall. 

Is that… you? The one looking back with a visage so arousing your breath stops? If this is the person that Yoongi brings out you actually feel your confidence inflate like a parade balloon.

“So fucking hot.”

When you laugh in shyness, his eyes slide shut in agony as he rakes through his hair. Crumbling inside, you offer a compliment of your own, 

“You’re so unfair when you do that.” 

Yoongi has the audacity to grin wide as he grips his long strands. “This?” 

“Ugh. Whatever.” You wanna smack that smirk right off his face.

So you keep going, loving the way his walls and defenses are back to shattering at your knees. From your inappropriate level of experience with his cock, you go for what you know. Licking his underside, swirling around the tip, sucking just the first bit, gathering spit all over before taking him in deep. 

The smells around you coalesce into something potent. With the fruitiness of the lolly and the headiness of Yoongi, it’s pure bliss in your nostrils and you soak it all in. There’s no pause in your sucking, licking, tugging him rough. You’re giving it your all and feeling the effects between your legs. 

Suddenly. 

Huffs litter around your sundress as Yoongi yanks himself out, sticking the sucker in your mouth again while holding your head. And his smile puts devils to shame when he scoffs, “Unfair, my ass.”

You giggle, sliding the pop up and down your outstretched tongue before slowly pushing it in. When you watch one of his veiny hands grip his cock, your brain resets and rewires, prompting you to be a little bit more daring.

As if this whole situation wasn’t daring enough.

You coyly slide one of your sundress straps down your arm, slowly revealing the top of a breast before going for the other side. Not enough to show everything. But enough to give him a much better view from above. 

And the sound you hear in response causes pulses between your legs,

“What the fuck.”

Satisfied, you ride this high of praise and keep diligently sucking on the lolly, watching him pump himself until you can’t can’t can’t take it anymore.

It all happens in quick succession, your hand outright slapping the lollipop out of his hand before grabbing for him, shaky fingers knocking into his slick ones before slipping his dick in your mouth.

“Shit—”

His scent captures your nostrils as he bucks forward, knocking your throat and causing your gag to hit the wall. When you keep sucking, Yoongi grabs your chin, chains swaying as he rocks in, out, in, out again.

Drool and spit cover your neck, seeping onto his fingers as he keeps them where he wants. Imagining how you look in the mirror makes you moan, and imagining Yoongi watching everything from his view makes your cunt leak onto your thighs. 

Fuck you wanna watch, too. What does that say about you? You’re legitimately jealous that you can’t see yourself taking Yoongi so deep he’s cursing in strings. 

When you choke, it’s disgustingly loud, so he has to pull out once again just to command, “Quiet.”

“Ye—” 

He’s shoved back in before you can finish one syllable, back out after a single suck before he drives his point home, “Understand?” 

“Y—”

Your words are pushed down your throat again, the intensity Yoongi’s exuding rolling your eyes back and shaking your muscles. Spent and unable to speak, you nod around him, and your arms are suddenly gathered against the wall until you’re fully flushed, held up by one of his strong hands.

“Good girl.”

You brace yourself for his complete control, dick sliding down your throat and pushing tears out of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you keep your tongue flat, taking him in until your full body gag alerts him to pull out. 

As soon as he does, you buckle straight towards the mirror, eyes bursting with shock as you drink in the man watching your heaving, shimmering chest.

“This is what you do to me, doll.” When you shift your attention upward, you gulp at his smile of pride. “Can you stand?” 

“I…” Holy shit, he fucked the voice right out of you. “I think so.” 

“Here.” 

You place your hand in his, muscles in your legs stinging at the change in position. When you go slow, Yoongi lets you, and your lips curve tenderly at the way he kisses you at your peak. 

“You almost made me come,” he whispers, chuckling when you watch his eyes. “Fuckin’ hustler.” 

“You didn’t want to?” 

“Not yet.” Winking, Yoongi gives you another peck before getting close. 

As you look in the mirror, you catch the way he kisses along your neck, his hair tickling your skin and his arms bent as he holds yours. It’s almost enough to make you feel higher than royalty, now knowing what it looks like to be feasted on by a king.

“Promise me something,” he rasps. 

“Anything,” you whisper in confidence.

“It’s your turn now.” Another kiss to your ear makes you flinch. “But if you’re too loud that’s all you get.” 

Bold statement coming from the guy that couldn’t stay silent. But you’re far too gone to dwell on the past so all you can do is nod in understanding. You need this. After today? You really fucking need this.

Yoongi tucks himself back in his sweats before kissing your neck again, lips leaving a trail along the tracks left by your own actions. When he gets to your chest, he gets to unwrap another treat, slowly peeling your dress down to suck on a nipple. 

You almost cut the whole thing short. 

A hand flies up over your mouth, and you watch your face twist in anguish in the glass. Sparks tingle from where Yoongi slides his tongue, and seeing this man in action from another viewpoint launches you across the edge instead of right to it. 

You’re gonna get yourself caught. There’s no way you aren’t crying out by the time he’s done but goddamn you’ve got to keep it toge—

Deft fingers rub your other nipple, causing your body to jump forward and Yoongi to chuckle into your chest. After he squeezes, you watch as he pops off your tit. “What’d I say.” 

This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done! 

You can only shake your head, hand still preventing your mouth to move and your throat stinging from suppressed screams. 

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi quips before kissing the rest of your dress downward. 

And the fucker didn’t even look back at the mirror. Like he already knows exactly what he looks like or doesn’t care in the slightest. All he’s focused on is you and you alone, and you’re so enamoured that you watch his head below you, too. 

Calmly and surely, Yoongi lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing along your skin and gripping you tight. When he lifts a brow upward, you nod downward, bracing yourself for him to notice something else you had planned to show.

Works like a sinful charm. His reaction could be felt better than seen. 

Because as soon as he notices that you don’t have any underwear on, Yoongi pours out dark amusement before giving your cunt the deepest kiss it’s ever felt.

A mewl smushes into your fingers as you cave, eyes shutting so tight as he eats you out like a man starved and never satiated. 

His licks hit just right, and the way he tongues you causes stars to pierce your eyes through. Over and over and over, Yoongi is merciless in how he pleasures, and your esophagus burns and burns and burns. 

Both your legs quake as he slips a finger under his tongue, and your eyes fly open just in time to see yourselves in the mirror again. 

Holy fuck.

You’ve always known this man was attractive. Overwhelmingly so, in fact. But seeing him on his knees and knowing it’s not a dream makes you so dizzy your brain can’t keep up. 

Yoongi’s hands flex on your skin with each minuscule grip, and his hair bunches as he moves between your legs. Your thigh covers his face, but maybe that’s for the best, because you don’t think you could handle watching his tongue while feeling it inside. 

“So fucking wet,” he hisses out before diving in again, and you use your other hand to grapple a chunk of his drying hair. “Fuck.”

Yes, keep going. He’s so close to making you come you squeeze even harder. By now, your whole upper body is burning with unreleased yells and your lower body is suffering just as much. He’s too good. Way too good for a quiet house.

You can’t hold it in. You can’t you can’t you can’t.

“Yoongi, please”—your legs start to twinge with want and pending release—“Gonna come, I—”

Everything snaps as soon as he reaches to grope your ass, tugging you forward to lick a spot that has you vibrating like mad. 

And your orgasm is so potent that your knees legitimately buckle, your body slipping with no purchase before you catch yourself on the wall. Waves hit you from all directions and you let out one yelp before you feel a moist hand clamp over your lips.

Oh, he’s standing now. Oh, he’s fingering you. Oh fuck, he’s talking you through your orgasm and you can’t understand him but your body reacts either way. 

“—another one for me.”

Your pulses wreck your body into angles, each one shifting into another as your mouth is still covered. Yoongi’s fingers prove fatal as he leads you into a second paradise, and you cry into his hand as you come into his other—harder, stronger. 

“Just like that, doll, fuck.”

Tears stream down your cheeks again as you lift, soaring into the summer skies and leaping over sleeping souls. It’s too much to keep inside. Too powerful to not let out all at once. 

“—this fucking dress.”

You don’t know what’s being said. Nor do you care. Your body is so spent from the vicious tempest and all the energy leaves you at once. 

“Uh uh.”

What. 

“One more for me,” Yoongi goads. “And you’re gonna watch this time.” 

Your chest beats and beats as his fingers pump slow, and your head lolls to the side as you catch sight of your salacious act in the mirror. 

Immediately, you know exactly why he said that. Watching the way his arms bulge with effort is encouragement enough to stay upright. With each thrust, you can see your dress hitching with your arches, and Yoongi dives into your neck to strike lightning. 

“Baby—” You feel it. You feel a third wave incoming and its crest seems higher than the rest. 

“Come for me,” he whispers, his dark bangs peeking from behind your neck in the mirror and his throat stretching out. “And don’t fucking scream.” 

Fuck! Your hand grips your mouth so bad it will leave soreness. But water pulls you under and twists you like a ragdoll. Unlike the other times, this orgasm quivers your legs to the point where Yoongi teases. And he can’t stop praising you for being naughty, for letting him in here, for letting him destroy you while everyone’s here.

“I love it,” you whoosh out into his throat, voice cracked and chipped. “Fuck, I love it.” 

“I know you do.” Another deep set of laughs. “You’re a problem.”

Head lolling forward, you slowly slip right into Yoongi’s arms before he helps you stand. “Come on,” he leads, walking you a short distance to your bed before chuckling at your cartoonish collapse.

Some moments pass. One, two, four or five more. Even the room seems to swim a little in your vision when you struggle to open your eyes. 

Finally, after breathing hard, you can only manage a gravelly, “Holy shit.” 

Yoongi laughs soft before wiping your forehead. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you exhale, chest heaving and heaving. “I’ll be good.” 

Fingers still wisping across your face, he praises, “So beautiful.” 

You finally calm your pulse before you slide your hand over his cock. “Did you come?” 

“Nah.” 

Looks like you aren’t done. “Mm,” you whisper, trying your best to prop yourself up. “Lie down for me.” 

“You sure?” 

You nod with heavy eyes, and he slowly occupies your bed while you caress him again. So smooth and so tender before squeezing just right. 

It’s already almost enough because Yoongi throws his head onto your pillow. “Goddamn.”

When you slip his sweats down, you use willpower alone to consume him again. You will not rest until he’s fully content, too. With this in mind, your cheeks and jaw work overtime. 

You want this, want this, want this. He gave you the world and then some, you can run on fumes to make him a mess. After all, you’re drunk off the pleasurable cocktail he just concocted with his tongue. This will carry you despite your functioning levels in the trenches. 

“Babe—”

For a split second, you forget where you are. Your eyelids droop so low and your body twinges with aftershocks as you spit right onto his cock, sliding your lips along his pretty length before you feel him tug your sheets.

“Shit.”

He’s close. He doesn’t even have to tell you. You can tell by the way his body reacts and bends and folds, and you quickly decide what that means for you.

Because you could swallow. 

But you instead make your way to the floor, commanding him before realizing just how authoritative and raspy you sound, 

“Sit up.”

Right as he does, you pump him right above your exposed chest, shocking him so abruptly his low groan shakes your core,

“Oh, fuck—”

Hot, thick spurts land all over you, his release your only focus and not the pain in your knees from hitting the floor in round two. As his head rolls back, you watch with heightened pride, loving the way he looks lost in delicious, honeyed ecstasy.

And just like that, both of you are satisfied. Both of you got what you needed and wanted from this… hot summer… day…

There was a sound outside your door, further down the hall but fucking close enough. 

And holy shit his cum is on your tits.

Holy shit holy shit this is the absolute last thing you should’ve let him do what the fuck what the fuck! 

If anyone sees you like this you are both finished. Cooked. Banished.

You glance at the door, body locking and hands massive weights at your side. 

One second. 

Two seconds. 

You’re fully awake now. 

Four seconds. 

Nothing else happens. Your ears strain wildly but you don’t hear any noises in succession, and you wonder if it was just a snore or something similar. 

Sighing, you breathe out relief before peering straight up.

And the look you get in return is pure, primal hunger. 

Yoongi’s never looked like this. Maybe he’s come close that one time before, but this is much different. 

What is this? His pupils are magnified and his lids are lowered in fire, stoking the heat within you and clutching your cunt with his eyes alone. You’re so wet that you can come again if he so much as touched you. “Baby?” 

Yoongi simply grazes your cheek with his knuckles. “Just want this in my phone so fucking bad.” 

Oh. Well, fuck. 

You blink at his shamelessness. But it makes you so exhilarated and shy that you resort to your default—cracking jokes. Of all the things he could’ve mentioned like the sound outside or possibly getting caught and dragged to hell he decides he wants your pictures in his phone. Right.

“Happy you painted me like Picasso?” You laugh before you can even finish, but so does Yoongi as he throws his head back. 

Immediately, the atmosphere calms. “You heard that earlier?” 

“He’s an idiot.” 

“He is.” Yoongi helps you up and onto your bed before he asks, “Towels in your bathroom?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Under the sink.”

You watch as he goes to fetch them, heart pulsing extra hard at his consideration. When he bustles around in a room you use everyday, it’s surreal to witness. Both unnatural, but so natural at the same time. 

He’s careful not to make loud sounds, gently closing your cabinets and coming back with a cloth he ran under water.

A sudden pang hits your chest and you have no clue why.

Is it because you’ll never see him in there again? Or is it because of the conversation you just brought up? 

Maybe both. The convo from earlier today still rings in your ears, everyone hounding Yoongi about the scratches you left on his back. They were old but still very visible. You need to be more mindful of what you can and can’t do right now. 

As Yoongi wipes your shivering chest, you ask something that’s been weighing on your mind, “Did I get you in even more trouble?” 

He just looks at you before finishing his cooling task, raising straps back onto your shoulders. “Course you did.” 

Ah. He didn’t seem bothered, but your apology follows him as he goes to pick up the abandoned candy from earlier. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it at the time.” 

“S’ok. Hope you’re fine being some chick from outta town, though.” 

Your chuckle hurts your throat on the way out. Not from disappointment, but from the very man you’re talking to. “I can deal with that. Is she nasty?” 

It takes a bit for him to discard everything. When he comes back, he bends down to answer, 

“So fuckin’ nasty.” 

You giggle right into his kiss. Fully spent, your arms around his neck pull him in close, and his rough laugh makes your legs even weaker. “Can’t believe we just did all that.”

“Same.”

“Guess you like the dress, huh?”

A hand comes up to squeeze your thigh. “Dunno. Might have to see it again when the sun’s out.”

“Ass.”

“You get it.”

“Wow.” 

Yoongi hisses amusement, shifting to lay beside you across your bed. When he does, light from the window hits him just right, and you fall silent at once.

So perfect. So unfair.

“I think this is my favorite,” you admit, not giving him full context. So when he wordlessly asks for it, you reach up and caress his cheek. “When you look happy.”

“I am,” he says after a pause. “Cus of you.”

You feel starlight in your own eyes. “I’m happy, too.”

For this, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask for more context at all.

The lingering fear of being caught is still there, but it’s not as present now. Maybe it’s because you’re both content again, but you don’t feel too stressed. 

Did you want to get caught that whole time? Surely not when things were going down.

But what about now? If someone saw you lost in each others’ stars, would you care if they plucked you from the sky? 

Staring into this man’s eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say you would. 

“When will I see you again?” you blurt out of nowhere.

At this, Yoongi props his head up with an elbow. “When do you want to?”

“Tomorrow.”

His chest bobs with his laugh. “I’ll make sure to see you before I head out then.” 

You nod, eyes shutting when Yoongi goes in for another kiss. 

Another kiss is how you frame it. Because a final kiss is too painful to think about. 

Yoongi has to leave. You know he literally cannot stay.

But facts and logic don’t make this parting any easier, and your heart breaks when he slips out of your bed.

It’s too soon. Yes, it’s also way past the time he should be in your room, but it’s too fucking soon. 

Your chest burns. Sears make fiery ridges along your ribs until they overtake your heart, creeping closer and closer.

Until Yoongi bends to kiss you again, fingers slotting into yours and squeezing some liquid out of your eyes. 

But his rasp gives you pause, “I did, by the way.”

Blinking, you feel him swipe at oncoming tears when you ask, “You did what?”

“Have fun.”

Oh. Wait, he’s answering the text you sent? You already forgot about that. Ages ago. “Good,” you say with a slight ghost of a smile. “It looked like you were having a good time. And I.. Really liked seeing you laugh.”

Yoongi just stares, thoughts and emotions skimming across his eyes. When you reach up to cradle his cheek, they then slip shut, brows dipping as he presses into you further. “You were the reason,” he admits with no hesitation.

Don’t cry more. Not now.

He gives you one more hug, and you cradle his head into your skin. “Good night, baby,” you whisper so softly, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

When he does the same to yours, you wonder if his reaction was also reminiscent of tiny sparklers on a summer night. 

“Night, doll.” 

The steps he takes all stomp on your heart. 

But you find solace in the hopeful future. One where you can stand next to him at summer barbecues, or host them with him, or just simply be anywhere with him. 

But mostly, you’re yearning for a future where you don’t have to keep watching him leave through a door. 

But come back through one.

-

-

fin. :)

-

🍭so... how did it go!🍭 | join the server! | join the taglist!

a/n: thank you to everyone that has stuck around while i took my huge rest! it was a little strange to not be here everyday talking to you all, but looking back, the resting and step back was needed. although it looks like some people left - whether the blog or in general - i am happy to see so many familiar and new people! let's keep having fun with the 3tanverse and beyond, yeah? a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! i'll be here to talk and scream with y'all whenever, and it should be more frequent now. also be on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [2]

pet!au part 2 | ghoap x fem!reader

simon brings you home

cw: stalking, panty/clothing stealing, drugging, kidnapping, non-con touching, nsfw, simon is a freak and johnny is pathetic

Things began to go missing in your apartment around July. 

They were simple things at first. Items that could easily be lost in some hidden crevice you wouldn’t find until you moved out of the place. At first, it started out with clothing, and they were usually items you wouldn’t pay much mind to. When you lost your favorite pair of underwear, you treated it just like you did with your mismatched socks. What a shame. You’ll just have to buy more later. 

Then a pair of underwear became a pair of shorts, which then became a bra, and then a shirt, and then your favorite sweater. It was the one you always wore when it was cold out, and though you hadn’t worn it for months, you noticed its distinct disappearance from your closet. Strange. You swore it was hanging up with the rest of your jumpers earlier that week. Perhaps you had put it in storage and forgot? You’d have to check some other time, you were going to be late to work. 

While you had been plenty attentive when it came to your missing clothing, there were many other things you didn’t notice. Like a shampoo bottle slightly out of place in your shower. Strands of hair untangled from your brush. New scratches on your deadbolt. The masked man who watched you exit your apartment. 

Simon had learned that when it came to obtaining pets, he needed to do the process slowly. Snatching you right off of the streets wasn’t going to accomplish anything if things were too unfamiliar to you. No, he needed to make sure you were comfortable. So he tracked down the brand of toiletries you used, your style of clothing, your sizing, everything. He found those exact brands and bought copies that would greet you when he would finally bring you home. 

Meanwhile, he had an impatient animal at home to satiate, so taking a few personal items couldn’t hurt. What better way to get Johnny acquainted with your presence than having him sleep with the pair of panties he had snatched from your laundry? He was certain he had caught the mutt jerking off with the fabric wrapped around his cock the other night, but he was just happy to not be pestered into fucking the pathetic thing, so he let it slide. 

There were more important things for Simon to do than fuck Johnny every time his cock got hard, which was often. That was going to be your job, as it seemed like you needed a new one based on the rejection email he saw on your laptop. Looks like that interview you had been dressed up for a few weeks back hadn’t gone all that great, and judging by the dead look in your eyes as you worked the late shift at the bar, you were desperate. 

Good. Desperate pets always made the best listeners. 

At least your top was nice that night. Something Johnny would certainly enjoy seeing you in. Some low cut tank top that attempted to fight off the sweltering heat that lingered in the small confines of the bar. Even Simon had to admit that he felt sweaty and claustrophobic in that place, yet he still refused to remove that thick balaclava. The perspiration caused the skin on your chest to become illuminated under the dull glow of the light fixtures above you, and you were too busy serving drink after drink to pay any mind to the strange bloke hidden in the corner. For such a perceptive pet, you couldn’t manage to see the forest through the trees. Always paid perfect attention to the head on the beers you served, and how clean your station was, but couldn’t taste the pill Simon had slipped into the soda you had sipped on that night. 

Of course, he was patient with it. Didn’t want to slip you anything too early into your shift. Your co-workers were bound to get annoyed with your absence and go looking for you. No, he waited until the patrons dwindled to just a small handful before approaching you to pay for the drink he hadn’t taken a sip of all night. Simon was well aware of the effect he had on people. He was a large man with unkind eyes and a bitter attitude, yet you still put on a brave face and smiled at him as you took the cash from his hand. Didn’t bother to check your drink for tampering before downing the rest like it was a shot when you returned. 

By the time the world started to spin and you felt your dinner from that night wanting to come back up to say hello, Simon was ready. With pupils blown so wide and dilated, it was impossible for you to think straight. Your body didn’t know right from wrong, and so when his arm wrapped around your waist, it didn’t fight against him. Everything you were had been rendered into nothing but a perfect, pliant mess for him. 

It wasn’t until Simon pulled in front of the house that he realized he might have given you too strong of a dose. You hadn’t stirred the entire car ride, and he had to check your pulse to see if you were still breathing, and he was slightly relieved when he felt the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He didn’t even want to imagine the whining he would have to hear from Johnny if he had accidentally killed you. Not to worry. It was best if you were asleep anyway. Johnny would certainly pounce on you otherwise. Cradling you in his arms, your limp body was brought into the house, and Johnny bounded out of the living room the moment the door slammed shut behind him. His eyes were as wide as saucers the moment they landed on your body. You looked so soft. He wanted to dive right into you. 

“Down,” Simon warned.

Johnny’s impatience was drowned out by the static that jolted through his body. This new excitement had his blood coursing through his veins with resurrected vigor. Refusing to give Simon any reason to deny him his new treat, Johnny trailed behind him like a good pup as he brought you into the bedroom. You were placed on the mattress with such care one could have confused you for some prized possession. If he wasn’t afraid you’d shatter, Johnny would have thrown himself on top of you. 

“She’s so fuckin’ beautiful, Si. A goddamn angel, she is. Please, can I? Let me touch her, I wanna touch her,” Johnny asked, eyes begging for approval. 

Before giving him a reply, Simon’s hand reached for his throat. The thick leather collar that adorned his neck always got twisted around one way or another, and he quickly straightened it out. Silver glinted in the dim lighting of the bedroom as Simon’s thumb swiped across his dog tag. Soap was the name Johnny proudly wore on his collar; one he never even dreamed of taking off. 

“Play nice, yeah?” Simon ordered. 

Johnny nodded, and once he had gotten his confirmation, Simon let go of the leather around his throat. Wasting no time appearing by your side, Johnny laid down next to your motionless body on the mattress where he enveloped you in his embrace. Had you been awake, you certainly would have cried out at his crushing grip, but your unconscious body didn’t know any better. It gave him no reaction as his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck where he inhaled long and deep against your skin. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips grinding against your thigh, “smells like heaven too. Christ…” 

Wandering hands pawed at your body, taking things from you in your unaware state that you were sure to miss come morning. But how was he supposed to stop when your supple flesh felt like a divine comfort in the palm of his hand? Simon had gotten you for him. This was his right. This was what he had earned. 

“When will she wake up?” Johnny asked, not bothering to remove his face from your neck. 

“Dunno,” Simon replied, bored. “Have your fun, just don’t fuck her. You hear me, mutt? Keep that fuckin’ cock dry ‘til I tell you, yeah?” 

“Yes sir,” he answered, though it was impossible to fully hide the whine in his tone. 

As Simon’s feet meandered out of the room, Johnny only buried himself further into you. Hands under your shirt, hardened bulge against your thighs — he couldn’t get enough of you. Your scent was intoxicating, and he couldn’t hold back the groans that escaped his mouth while his lips pressed against your jaw. 

“Welcome home, Bonnie.”

[ninalifz]

Possessive Togame Jo

(Not proofread/English is not my first language, so please have mercy)

My Togame brain rot just had the best of me, and I had to write this 😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I just know that Togame Jo is the most possessive man ever ! Like they said it in the anime, he's one of the most territorial at Shishitoren.

So I let you imagine if you are his girlfriend :

Like even when you're not with him, he'll have you wear his jacket so people don't mess with you even when he is away and that it is clear that you are under Shishitoren's protection. He'll buy you the same cologne as him just because he loves smelling his scent on you, and he thinks it's excellent "douchebags repulsive." His words, not mine.

And he will totally show that you belong to him by small actions, like you're at gathering, and is just go like "C'me here, babe" while patting his lap. He WILL take advantage of his height and lift your chin up when he want you to talk to him, every. Single. Time. He'll tie your shoelace then kiss your calf if you're wearing a skirt or stroke it if you're wearing jean's. Open your ramune or any or your drinks for you, and totally brush your hair out of your face.

If it starts getting cold, he'll just come close and zip up your jacket, then give you a head pat.

He'll lead you through the crowd with a hand on the small of your back, with that ass shiting grin. He will totally shoot lasers at anyone who looks at you more than 2 seconds and will always, and I mean ALWAYS, have a hand on you. Like your sitting, his hand is on your tight, or his arm is over your shoulders. Walking ? his hand is on your hip, and he is squeezing you closer to him as you walk. Standing ? he'll put his arm around you and have his head resting on yours or just use you to rest his arm (his tall mean ass live for this).

And God help the poor soul that even think of flirting with you, like my man will commit a murder. He'll come behind you and squeeze your ass, and just go like, "Oï oï, why is my pretty girl talking with a loser ? Can't you see that we're busy, hmmm ?" With that condescending voice and dark look of his. And when the guy left, he will just grab you closer and shove his tongue down your throat. Just to remind you who you belong to.

And if there is anything that he loves more than showing you off, it's when you are possessive. You're walking, and you grab his biceps instead of his hand, and he's ready to celebrate like the fourth of July. A hand through his hair, and he's in heaven. Making him sleep on your lap ? he'll just want to smooch you all over. Feeding him ? he's ready to propose on the spot. And the moment you start to act jealous, he's just ready to drag you at the altar right then and there. Tend to his injuries after a fight, and he is imagining how many children you two are going to have.

[aliaology]

MAROON

summary: being a planner meant your life was organized. but not everything goes according to plan.

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: cheating, mentions of sex (riding), shattered glass.

you were losing it, officially. it wasn’t supposed to go this way. no, not at all. your life was not supposed to turn upside down in one hour. your life was not supposed to change. no, no, no it couldn’t, not when you had it all planned out.

you planned it perfectly. wake up, work, come home to your loving boyfriend. you were supposed to get married in july. a peaceful, small wedding. you didn’t want a big one.

quinn hughes didn’t want a big one either, but he made a big mistake. you were supposed to go to greece for your honeymoon.

you were not supposed to be standing in the doorway of your apartment. glass shattered on the floor, some still in your hand. burgundy liquid stained the white carpet and your gray shirt.

clothes that were not yours were not supposed to be strewn along your bedroom floor. heels that were not yours were not supposed to be by the bed.

your soon to be husband was not supposed to be in bed with another woman that was not you.

blood rushed to your cheeks, but not from being flustered, from being angry. you turned around dropping the rest of the glass onto the floor.

“y/n!” you heard. the audacity of a man to call for you after having sex with another woman was a slap in the face.

the audacity to sleep with another woman in your shared bed was disgusting. you stormed your way to the door, sliding your work shoes right back on.

you heard footsteps and a few hisses of pain here and there. “y/n, please!”

you turned around, looking at your soon to be ex-fiancé in the eye. your face was red, and stained from tears as you cried, but you kept your composure.

“was she good, quinn? was she fucking worth it? worth your entire fucking six year relationship, because lord i sure hope she was!” you yelled, putting your coat on.

“baby—“

“i am not your baby anymore, quinn. no, we are fucking done! i don’t care if you needed stress relieved, or if you are drunk, i dont give a fuck! you fucked another woman in our bed, our bed.”

quinn had a pained look on his face as he stood in front of you, only in his boxers.

“and dont say you’re sorry because you aren’t. you’re sorry because you were caught.” you glared at him, grabbing your keys.

“y/n—“

“will you just stop? stop trying, quinn! you did this. you ruined this! you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for thirty minutes. maybe i haven’t been giving you attention or maybe you were unhappy but that will never— should’ve never given you the fucking right.” you scoffed out.

you turned to the door and opened it. before stepping out, you pulled your ring off of your finger and threw it to the ground. you then walked out and slammed the door behind you.

you skipped the elevator and went for the stairwell instead.

you were going crazy. messages after messages. no matter what, he was near you all the time. trying to apologize by giving you gifts, or talking to you, he kept trying.

quinn hughes was not a quitter. but he was a cheater. so in some ways, he quit your relationship once cheating.

you groaned in frustration, slamming the phone in your office down as you heard the receptionist tell you that quinn was waiting for you, yet again. you groaned even more when he came waltzing through your office door.

“what are you doing here, quinn?” you asked, drained. you leaned back in your chair in frustration.

his lips parted. lips you used to call home. your gaze fixated on them for a moment as he started to talk. your eyes shifted back to his.

“i want to fix us, y/n.” he spoke, voice raspy.

he took the seat in front of your desk and inched in closer. his eyes were red from crying. his lips were red in irritation, they were chapped.

“you very well made your mind up of where we were once that lady was in your bed.” you spit out.

your cheeks grew pink from irritation. quinn rubbed his face before his hands came together and rested under his chin.

“it was a mistake, y/n. i— i wasn’t thinking straight.” he stuttered out.

his eyes caught on the wilted flowers on your window sill. carnations. he accidentally bought them thinking they were roses, your favorite, but gave them to you anyways.

you scoffed, eyes narrowing as you looked at him. “and having her ride you was a mistake too right? putting her in your favorite position? real mistake.” you spoke, harshly.

“y/n please—“ he tried to plead.

“go home, quinn.” you sighed out.

you awoke with a cold sweat. the feeling of sadness and anger rushed over you as you sat up in a bed that wasn’t yours. you breathed heavily, hearing footsteps near your door before the knob turned and opened.

elias stood in the doorway. “everything okay?” he asked.

you were in elias pettersson’s place. in his guest room. you watched his girlfriend walk in behind him.

you nodded, wiping your forehead. “yeah— yeah im alright.” you whispered.

you weren’t. you woke with the memory of quinn over you. the feeling of him was enough to wake you up in such a way you hated it.

he left a real fucking mark on you, and you didn’t want it permanent.

you did not plan to be in elias petterssons house. you did not plan to be cancelling your wedding. you did not plan to be here. maybe you would stop planning from here on.

you looked outside. the sky was maroon. your face was red from blood rushing to your cheeks. everything was maroon.

tags (perm!): @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @outrunangelss , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @p3nislawd , @queenmendes , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot ,

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

RUNAWAY FROM ME - CHAPTER 1

Pairing - Tommy Shelbly x oc

Summary - Deirdre ran from her life of misery for her own safety. However, she managed to run back into the arms of an angel she once knew, now known as The Peaky Blinder Devil. In which he has no intentions of letting her run away from him again.

Warnings - Dark content, noncon, dub con, explicit themes, lovers to enemies to lovers, slow burn kinda, Tommy needs a hug.

Word count - 5.2k+

Notes - First chapter complete woohoo. Thoughts highly appreciated. And let me know if I should make a tag list.

CHAPTER 1

Arrow House, Warwickshire - Morning, July 23rd 1924

She was in his dreams. Or as he believed to be nightmares. Teasing him of her immaculate beauty that he so desperately longed to forget. In Tommy’s visions, he was running after her, chasing her like his life depended on it. But she was running in slow motion, the way that her silk brunette hair bounced in line with her steps. But Tommy could feel his heart pound in his chest, his throat dry as he was panting after her. So desperately trying to catch up to her. Right when he’d think he’d finally catch her, the light would shine brightly and she’d disappear. 

Every morning, Tommy woke up alone. He laid there, only for a few minutes reflecting on his inner demons conjured in his sleep. Every morning, he woke to the torturous hardness in his lower region. However, he refused to touch himself, refused to pleasure himself in the memory of her. 

It all started in the hospital. Tommy thought he was dead. All because he saw her charm, the sight that he had longed for, even after all of these years. She looked like an angel, her luscious hair rested on her shoulders as her light brown eyes blinked to him. His body missed her, but his mind, oh how it still despised her. That’s how he knew he wasn’t dead. Because he didn’t feel that warmth to see her again, to think of her. 

Somehow, she pushed him through his recovery. This urge to want to heal so he could finally take the journey to find her. In his hallucinations, he was back in the tunnels, face covered in dirt and smoke as he was crawling in hopes to finally reach her. Tommy heard her call his name down the hole. As if she needed him to save her. In his sleep, he called her name over and over again. “Deirdre…” It left him a desperate man who took morphine to numb his thoughts rather than his physical trauma. 

Tommy sat on the edge of his king size bed, his fingernails ran through his scalp, brushing over his healing stitches as he mumbled to himself, shaking his head lightly. He stood up and looked out the window, across the greenery of his estate. 

His wife had been shot. She took a fucking bullet for him. Tommy was still grieving, everyone knew so but wouldn’t dare to speak a word to him. There was no one else Tommy blamed but himself, his lifestyle killed a good woman, the mother to his only child. A woman that made him feel like a better person. Somebody that made him forget of his past affection, which was a dagger dug deep into his back. 

And how was he mourning her now? By getting fucking hard by his vex. By the woman that broke him, changed him into a monster that many now fear. She destroyed his happiness, and now he wished to never feel such emotion again. The woman that was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She was the only person that Tommy showed his complete vulnerability to, he gave her all that he had, and how did she fucking repay him? Everytime he thought of her, it urged his desires to make her atone for her failures to honor him. 

Tommy changed into his suit and headed downstairs into his office as he slid his pistol into his holster. Polly was sitting by his desk, a cup of hot tea in hand as she turned her head to him. 

“Polly, what brings you here?” Tommy asked as he reached his desk for some forms in the draw. 

“Just checking up on you Tommy” she replied, a content look on her face.   

Tommy hummed with a nod as he stood behind his desk. He debated if he should tell Polly of his dreams, wondering if she’d be able to help him. But the thought of mentioning her name again, after all of these years lit the cold hearth in his body. 

Polly gave him a knowing look and Tommy couldn’t help but to mentally grin. He slid the papers inside of his pocket. 

“I’m dreaming of the past Polly” Tommy disclosed emotionlessly. 

A raise of the eyebrow. “Which past?”

His stern expression didn’t flinch at her act. “You know what I’m speaking of” Tommy responded as he lit himself a cigarette. 

“Yes, I do” Polly confessed. 

“Well?” 

“She’s always been by your side Tommy, even though you turn your head from her. Keep your ears blocked from her cries” Polly sighed, looking hopeful in his doubts. 

“Because she so ever deserves my help” Tommy empathized, shaking his head. “She distracts me. Weakens me in my most vulnerable state. Why Pol?” Tommy asked, leaning towards her, his hands on his hips. 

Why did she come back to haunt him so menacfully now? After all of this time, why did she choose to torment him when he has so much on the line? For his business, his family, his future, his son. A part of Tommy hoped that she was dead. But feared that he would never be satisfied if he couldn’t find her. 

“Perhaps she needs you” Polly suggested, a slight shrug of the shoulders. The thought of Tommy doing such an act angered him.

“Fucking-” Tommy muttered, shaking his head at the thought of her.

“Where are you going?” She inquired. 

“To London. My brothers and I feel an urge to celebrate my recovery. It is our last night of freedom before we bury ourselves into this job” Tommy explained as he walked out of the room. “And tell her to get out of my fucking head!” Tommy shouted, shaking his head at the thought of her. 

“Perhaps you’ll be able to say it to her yourself” Polly mumbled to herself, sipping on her tea as she listened to the voices in her head. 

Oh how he hated her, the woman that he loved, but never actually knew. The one that split his soul in half. 

But after this last job, the security of a new life. Tommy would finally look for her, he would get her with the catchpole no matter where she was, no matter who she was. It was time for Tommy to kill his repressions which his last ounce of humanity discouraged himself from doing. 

Kensington, London - Almost midnight, July 22rd 1924 

Unphased, that’s how Deirdre looked in the backseat of the cab even though her thoughts were screaming. Her fingers played with each other as she noticed the driver looking at her through the mirror. Almost there, just a few more minutes, a couple more streets to turn down. All of the streets were dark and empty, Deirdre’s tired eyes blinked as the car rolled up to the address. She quickly paid the fee and exited the vehicle, the street lamp lit by the familiar berkshire bricked Edwardian house. 

It was late, too late for visitors but Deirdre felt too on edge to book a room. She didn’t know where could be trusted anymore, where was safe, her face was recognised in the high ends and targeted in the low. Deirdre held onto her small luggage bag in one hand and brushed back her silky brunette hair with the other. 

Deirdre was on the run, again. She had lost track of how many times she’s done it now. But she knew that this time, there was no mercy if she was caught. There was no forgiveness if she dared to go back to beg for it. The acts she had committed would result in nothing but a brutal death. Not even her father would excuse her behavior. She needed to be free, far away from the British lands. Deirdre dreamt of the sun and warmth in California. It could be a fresh start, a new life, the welcoming of peace and freedom.  

It wasn’t a guaranteed welcome when she rang the doorbell. It had been a few years since their eventful last encounter. They could have easily relocated somewhere else. But Deirdre had no other safe haven. The front porch returned to silence as Deirdre waited patiently. She saw the hallway light bright up through bay box sash windows. 

The door creaked open, Emily’s green eyes poked through the crack of the door. Deirdre sighed out and dropped her head in relief. The door opened wide as Emily looked her up and down, dressed up in her night robe and her blonde hair tied up into a bun. It took a moment for Emily to recognise her. 

“Deirdre! Why- What?” Emily was lost for words as she pulled her inside, safe from the chilly air.

Deirdre dropped her luggage onto the ground and embraced her intensely. The first sign of care that she had gotten in the past few months. As she blinked back her tears, Deirdre shuddered against her friend. But quickly straightened her posture and plastered a mask on her face. 

“Come, come. Sit down, I will make us some tea” Emily ordered politely. 

Deirdre was led into the reception room and Emily helped her slip off her overcoat and hung it on the hook. Her eyes looked around the room, Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel slightly envious of the family portraits on the wall. However, this silence was tranquil. 

Deidre sat on the two seater couch with her legs crossed over as she anxiously patted her hair. She adjusted her cream corsetless dress and tugged down at her sleeves. Emily walked over with tea, a small hopeful smile on her lips as she poured the boiling liquid into her aynsley teacup. Deirdre looked out the window, the moonlight shone through the sheers. 

“It’s been forever” Emily acknowledged as she poured the tea into her own teacup.

“It has” Deirdre replied politely, her southern Irish accent still as strong as Emily remembered. 

They spoke quietly, Emily’s young children were asleep in the other rooms. But also because Deirdre felt on edge that there were ears in the walls. 

“A part of me never expected to see you here again” Emily hesitantly admitted, her eyebrows jumping at the memory of the last time she saw her.

“Yes, I certainly thought the same” Deirdre retorted as she sipped on her tea.

There was a silence as Emily waited for Deirdre to spill her guts. But Deirdre was holding back, because if she cracked, the great deal of her despair would crash down her masquerade.   

“I apologize for arriving so late, and without notice. Is Max home?” Deirdre raised an eyebrow. 

“Work in Germany” Emily nodded. “There is no need to apologize, I promised you a safe spot and I’m glad that you’re here” she assured gently.  “Will you be staying for long?” Emily asked.

No she will not be. Deirdre needed to be far from London as soon as she could. Her husband never knew the depths of their friendship, the arrogant bastard hardly remembered her name, but if he was to become suspicious of her whereabouts, Deirdre needed to be gone without a trace. 

“Just for the night” Deirdre promised. “I merely needed some advice” she nodded. 

“Which is?” Emily asked nervously.   

“I need to do something, in order to free myself from this life. I could only gather so much on such short notice. All I know is how to run with nothing and it’s always gotten me caught. I need to figure out a way to get ahead” Deirdre explained, the steam of the tea warmed her cold lips. 

Emily hummed and set her tea down on the table. She was an honest woman, who married an honest man and they lived an honest life. However, Emily wasn’t always honest, she was clever in her acts, a true damsel in distress when needed be. 

Deirdre sighed heavily and blinked her weary eyes. “I’m tired Emily, so, so tired. I cannot rest, I cannot live. My body can only take so much. If my life of burden is not taken by another, I fear I will do it myself” Deirdre promised, her expression dry of humor. 

“I can-”

“No” Deirdre cut her off, her hand raised in warning. 

“Max would have-”

“No” Deirdre reinforced. “Being here already makes me feel guilty and nervous enough. I need to be gone within the next day. He will be coming for me if he is already not” Deirdre elucidated, her expression stern but her eyes showed how terrified she truly was. 

Emily sighed and batted her lashes. 

“Eden Club, no Scots or Irish are ever seen there. Most are rich, harmless travelers from America” Emily recommended. “Many are easily charmed by the native beauty” she added. 

“Who owns it?” Deirdre asked cautiously. 

“Ah-” Emily wondered, her fingers tapping on her chin. “Some Italian gangster, Sabini I recall” Emily confirmed, remembering the sight of the man on her spontaneous night a few years ago. “I will be able to get you some powder in the morning” Emily said. “Just be cautious who you choose” she raised her finger to her. Deirdre hummed and finished her tea. 

Shortly after, Emily led her to the guest bedroom and bidded her goodnight. As she stripped to change into her nightwear, Deirdre stared at the large bruise across her outer right thigh through the mirror. Accompanied by the many scars and small bruises all over her small fragile body. 

She crawled into the bed, her body immediately falling asleep but her eyes stayed awake. Her ears could hear the clock’s hands tick on the wall and her heart thud in her chest. All whilst she stared at the door, awaiting for someone to open it. 

When Deirdre finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep, she saw her brute of a husband chasing after her. She was running across an open field, but he was hot on her tail. Deirdre’s heart was in her throat as she heard his brutal voice call out to her, to summon her back to him. But Deirdre wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t stop. Refused to submit to him ever again. 

As she tripped on the ground, her body was flipped over and her eyes widened at the sight of him. Where did he come from? The warmth on his cheeks still looked the same after all of this time. A lopsided smile on his lips accompanied by his crinkles around those ocean blue eyes. 

His face was angelic, but she felt his claws dig into her shoulders. She squirmed underneath him, cried out for anyone to save her, but he was dragging her down the grass which had turned into the dirt roads of Small Heath by her ankles. Her body twisted over, her hands digging into the gravel, crying for salvation, for mercy. But she knew that she had to pay for her crimes against him. 

When Deirdre woke up from her nightmare, her body shot up as she was panting for air. She had forgotten about the man that she once loved. Yes, she heard his name at times in conversation, but they lived in different worlds. She always knew she was safe from ever crossing paths with him, her family would never dare to do business with him, nor go against him. 

The last she heard was his wife taking a bullet for him, her husband laughed and asked her if she’d do the same for him. But if she had the choice, she’d be the one to fire the gun at him, her dear husband. 

But to dream of him, after all of these years. Tonight of all nights. He was a changed man, ruthless, heartless, barbaric. It made Deirdre feel sick to her stomach, she ran to the ensuite and threw up in the toilet. As she flushed the toilet and washed out her mouth in the bassinet, Deirdre plodded back to the bed and laid stiffly. 

He was planted in her thoughts now, she needed to get out of London. Fearing that another wolf had picked up her scent and was ready to catch her like she was the helpless lamb in the field.  

Soho, London - Evening, July 23rd 1924

Tommy saw her stand on the straight wide road. The beaming sun warmed his pale skin as he studied her. He walked to her slowly, her back towards him as she wore a white dress. It was quiet, he felt the wind blow gently and heard his calm breathing. 

As he stood directly behind her, his hands brushed over her shoulder, up to the back of her neck. Tommy gently pushed her soft hair to the side as he pressed his mouth to her ear. He heard her breathe out, her body relaxed back up against his as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Tommy…” she whispered. 

Tommy woke from his light sleep when Arthur and John bursted into the hotel room, bottles of expensive champagne in their hands and foul words dripping from their lips. There was a confident smirk on his lips, he sat up on the made bed and brushed over his suit, still fully dressed. They were pulling out the champagne glasses and popping open the bottles. 

Without a word, he headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Tommy stared at himself in the mirror, his blue eyes wide and jaw stern. Arthur and John could be heard clearly, drinking piss and smelling snow, ready for their big night. 

“I feel you with me” Tommy breathed out slowly, his eyes shut. “Oh, how fate wants us together again. It demands you pay for your crimes against me” He sighed softly. “And I’d be a fool if I showed you leniency” he swore. 

Arthur banged his hands on the door. With a heavy blink, Tommy opened the door and gladly accepted the glass in hand. Through one gulp, the glass was empty. The brothers cheered Tommy on and quickly refilled his glass. 

They were oblivious to the thoughts that dripped out of Tommy’s mind. No one ever really knew what he was thinking of. He was an enigma, so difficult to analyze, purely emotionlessly at many critical times. Everyone always thought that Tommy never really cared about anything anymore, since the war, except for his business. 

Arthur wrapped his slender arms around his brothers and pulled them in close. “One last night as brothers, eh John? Eh Tom?” Arthur asked, a gleeful smile on his lips. 

“Of course brother” John nodded in content. 

“I feel this night will be one to remember” Tommy acknowledged and looked to his brothers dramatically.

"What is it Tommy?" John frowned with Arthur's expression following.

Tommy breathed deeply and nodded his head. "I've been dreaming of the past, and I dreamt of a wide straight road with the woman of my past standing right in middle of it. I feel her with me, she calls my name on this night" Tommy confessed.   

Eden Club, Soho - Night, 23rd July 1924

One drink, two, three, four? Deirdre lost count on how many drinks she allowed this American lawyer to purchase her. The plan was to get him knocked out, not her. She needed to slow herself down, the eagerness to rob him blind had her high on alderline. The thrill of breaking free, running away for good was too much for her mind, emotions and body to handle. 

She had been throwing up all day. Every second she wasted brought her husband a step closer to her. The powder was hidden in her purse and Emily was correct. It wasn’t hard to seduce an American. Jack was assertive, clearly up himself. He had daddy's money to lean on anyways, he had security. She did not. 

It was hard to hear any form of conversation over the jazz music echoing around the walls. As her eyes darted around, she saw everyone was either intoxicated or high on the sweet melodies. Nobody was watching her, Emily was right, she was safe. 

Deirdre’s fingers traced around the rim of the martini glass as the melodies calmed her nerves. The conversation Jack made was muffled, Deirdre’s mind miles away from reality. His hand brushed through his blonde hair as his eyes undressed her. 

Deirdre truly was a sight for sore eyes. If she was on the streets, people would stare. That did not please her husband. The many that knew of his nature, forced themselves to look away. Hearing the many tales of what happened if he felt a slight bit of jealousy. A need to ensure ownership over her.  

The navy silk v neck dress curved her petite body perfectly. A parting gift from Emily, a token of good fortune. Only time would tell if Deirdre still had it in her. If her confidence had not been completely broken. She felt the pearl necklace, she'd sell it as soon as she was free.

Jack leant over to her, a seductive look in his dark brown eyes. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and it made her feel nauseous. “Later, I want to bring you back to my suite, and fuck you all night” he confessed, a confident smirk on his lips. 

Drunken men were always foul. Focused on the outside of a woman and did not care to know who she was. He hadn’t asked a single question about her all night. But that made it easier for her, faded her upcoming guilt.   “Jack my darling, you haven’t even asked me for a dance yet” Deirdre teased with a toothy grin.

“Oh, there will be plenty of dances, Cassidy” he promised, his arm snaking around her back. 

A simple alias just for Deirdre’s comfort. Deirdre chuckled as she watched him finish his glass, she needed him to only have a couple more. Then she’d politely accept his invitation over, suggest one finally drink and slip in the powder. It would all be over before midnight. She’d catch the overnight train to Liverpool and board the boat to America by the end of tomorrow. 

The band came to a sudden stop, the audience’s heads turned towards the three men that strode through the dining. All three of them wore peaked caps with large overcoats as they walked tall. They approached the stage and Deirdre couldn’t help but to feel her heart thud harder in her chest as this suspicious tingle crawled over her skin with her light brown eyes glued onto the men that felt too familiar. Deirdre’s heart froze when the man in front came to clear sight as he took off his cap, revealing his harsh undercut styled brunette hair.  

Thomas Shelby. 

Her face went numb when his pale hands wrapped around the microphone, ears clogged as his words fell deaf yet she remembered the sound of his deep, captivating voice perfectly. The two other men, which she quickly recognised to be his brothers, Arthur and John, stood with their chests puffed out, arms locked across shoulders and stern expressions. 

Deirdre’s heart pounded in her chest like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage. Even though her head was frozen in line to his speech, her eyes were darting around, already planning her escape. The room was full, surely his blue eyes would not be able to point her out in the depths of the occupied round tables. Let alone recognise her after all of these years. 

How could she have been so foolish? The massive city of London had never felt smaller than tonight. She had heard his name many times and every time it felt like a stab in the heart. He had made a name for himself, built an empire in that fire and brimstone city. Just like he always said he would. Her father and dear husband already hated him, gypsy bastard. Every day she prayed for their obliviousness to her heavy past with him.

It felt like her soul was pulled out of her body when his blue eyes landed on her. His mouth fell ajar open as his long lashes batted, head gently tilting to the left as he acknowledged her, remembering her thoroughly. The brothers noticed his pause and looked towards her as well, she couldn’t help but to cower slightly. The rest of the room was oblivious to the stare off between him and her. 

“And now, shall we dance?” He suggested it in a slow and challenging manner. One hand snapped to que towards the band and the other gestured towards his brothers.  

The sounds of jazz roared against the walls as everyone abruptly stood up. A deer caught in headlights, that’s how Deirdre felt at first. As she watched him walk down the stage, his eyes still on her. The brothers were already out of her sight. 

She snapped back to reality when Jack’s fingers traced over her bare shoulder. Deidre gulped hard as she quickly stood up, nervously brushing through her dark loose brunette hair. 

“Sorry, I, I suddenly don't feel too well” Deirdre admitted, which was actually a lie, but the implication went in the opposite direction. 

“Nonsense! I haven’t even gotten a single dance with you yet” Jack acclaimed with a charming smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

Her eyes shot towards the stage, he’s gone. 

“I’m so sorry, I really must go” Deidre quickly spoke, her voice trembling as she yanked herself out of his grasp. 

She heard him rebut, however she was already heading straight towards the large doors as she zigzagged through the crowd. Unfortunately, her poorly planned escape route had quickly soiled, she spotted Arthur and John standing on opposite sides of the exit. They were always loyal pawns in his game. There was a pause in her movements as her eyes shot around, her body covered in pins and needles. 

She’d escape through the workers quarters. But as she turned in a hasty measure, her small body smacked into another. The arms that she had felt years before wrapped around her possessively as he steadied her stance. There was no doubt who it was, no hope for it to be another. 

“My dearest Deirdre, my sight has declined; however, my eyes will never fail to spot your beauty. May I have this dance?” Tommy asked with a stern expression but soft voice, head tilted down towards her as she kept her eyes on the floor. 

The coat he wore was gone, and she could easily feel his muscular frame hidden underneath the button up shirt, not to mention the pistol in his holster. His cold hand lifted her chin and their eyes locked. As she blinked slowly, her eyes glistering, she bit on her tongue. Tommy waited patiently for her next move. 

Show no fear. 

“If I knew that the Eden Club was in your possession I would have steered clear. We can pretend that you never saw me” Deidre negotiated confidently but her front failed when her body shook against his. 

Tommy laughed loudly as his arm around her waist tightened in a proprietorial manner. 

“Unfortunately we have unfinished business, you and I” Tommy replied coldly. 

“Please, surely you haven't held onto those emotions for all of these years” Deirdre chuckled presumptuously as she tried to push their bodies apart without gaining attention.   

Tommy grunted at her words and dragged her to the dance floor, his fingers dug into her upper arms. Surely he wouldn’t make a scene here. But then she’s heard many tales of him, the beast that he had become when he returned from the war.

“You’re in a considerable debt with me, my love. One that you thought would fade if you merely ran” Tommy growled. 

“I can get you your money” she winced at the sharp pain, not like it would even mean anything to him with how much his businesses bring in these days. When they passed through the crowded floor, she realized that he was leading her out of the lounge. 

“If you think your debt is based around money, are you still that naive girl from all of those years ago, eh?” Tommy smirked as he kicked open the double doors which led them into the kitchen. 

It was now or never. Deirdre shoved him away with full force and scrambled through the busy kitchen as she nearly fell over in her heels as she broke free. All eyes were on them but no one dared to move a finger in the wrong direction. As she roughly pushed past everyone, she tried to remain calm. 

Tommy grinned at the girl who loved to run. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed for the both of them, her heart was pounding immensely as she panted in her heels. The first door she took led her to a hallway, the open exit to the streets on her right was blocked by two working men. Cigarettes in their lips as they watched her intimately, she bolted to the left. 

The next door she took, she didn’t consider analyzing, she locked herself in the small dark room which appeared to be an office. The moonlight shined through the sash window which she yanked up and looked down to the small drop, survivable but not without two broken heels. As Deidre laid her hands on the windowsill, her head snapped back as she heard the door unlock from the other side. There was no other option besides hiding. Deirdre found herself hidden underneath the wooden Lombardo desk. It was human instinct to cower, pray that she’d be able to run from her past demons.

The weighty door creaked open, and she heard his heavy footsteps on the carpet. Tommy pulled out a cigarette, the end of the stick brushed in between his lips as he lit it. “Oh Deirdre, my dearest” Tommy spoke loudly, his tone dripping of sarcasm, which made her stomach feel like a bottomless pit. He slammed the door shut behind him. “Why do you run? Why do you hide? From me of all people? You seemed to have forgotten the vows you swore your life on. The promises which are still owed to me. You ignorantly believed that fate would keep us apart? Oh but haven’t you heard the tales of the Peaky Blinder Devil?” Tommy spoke, his footsteps slowly approached her. 

The thuds in her chest were painful, her throat felt like the cold air around her was strangling her. He could hear her heavy breathing and chuckled silently. The Colt M1911 is pulled from his holster and he ensured that she heard the safety click off. 

“Once upon a time there was a boy. Who foolishly fell for a girl with a secretive past. They created a life as one. He protected her from the pure evils in this cruel world and how did she repay him? She robbed him blind. She ran from the boy that she loved and turned his soul black. She created the Devil of Birmingham. And tonight, the runaway has tripped over her bad deeds” Tommy teased as he leisurely approached her. 

With a turn of the corner of the desk, Tommy raised his pistol and pointed it at her forehead. Deirdre looked up to him with doe eyes and gulped down her nerves. “And now, you will repay your debts” Tommy ordered with a gentle nod. 

“I will do no such thing” she refused, her words sizzling in anger. 

Tommy knelt down to her level, his pistol pressed against her temple. Deirdre breathed out but didn’t fear, she’s been pushed and shoved too many times before to know when there was an actual threat on her life. 

“Yes you will. Because you’re still my property, my dear wife” Tommy smirked.

CHAPTER 2

[fruitcoops]

After Midnight

Annual pride fic is here! I hope everyone is staying safe, well, and hydrated :) Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for alcohol/ light drunkenness/hangovers

July 1, 1:30 p.m.

“Jesus,” Remus mumbled. Pressure pinched his lower back, runching up his shirt; he dug a clumsy hand beneath himself and fumbled for his phone. It took a few moments to extract it, clamped between weak knuckles, but he managed. Handful of Twitter notifications, a text from his dad, an automatic calendar notification, sticky lips and—good god, did his hair really look that bad?

He tried to sit up and was met with an immediate (and wildly cranky) grumble from the concrete slab resting across his belly.

Remus sighed, and closed his eyes. Getting up was overrated. He didn’t even want to think about the state of the house.

June 30, 10:30 p.m.

“AYO AYO AYO!”

Kasey winced. “Christ, Harz, take some pity on my eardrums.”

“Hey, man, sorry—has anyone seen the margarita mix?”

“Side counter,” Remus noted, tipping his chin toward the kitchen. “By the sink.”

Finn’s face brightened. “Sick, thanks.”

“Gentle pours, please. Not everyone here has a college liver.”

“Please,” Finn snorted as he cracked a screw-top open. “You’re all in much better shape than those guys ever were. Knutty around?”

Remus shrugged and took another sip of his beer. He liked this kind—Sirius had picked well. “Went off somewhere with Reg. Probably gaming.”

Finn whistled through his teeth. “Not getting him back anytime soon, eh?”

“Oh, you bet,” Remus laughed.

July 1, 2:00 p.m.

“We should ban frat boys from the team.”

“Mmm.”

“All of them. Every one.”

“Mmm.”

“Or at least remove the—” Sirius paused to catch another mouthful of water directly from the faucet. For the first time in Remus’ memory, his glossy hair looked slightly dull and flat. “—lead weights from their hands, mon dieu, what did they put in there?”

“Hell. Burning, vicious, alcoholic hell.” He turned his head with utmost caution, and still felt a warning throb in the back of his skull. “I liked those ciders you picked up.”

Sirius groaned; Remus watched his forehead bump the side of the kitchen cabinet with a soft noise. “Don’t talk to me about cider right now. My tongue feels like I licked one of your sweaters.”

Remus frowned. “You like my sweaters.”

“That’s not…” Sirius straightened with a wince. Both hands remained braced on the marble. “The fuzzy stuff, it’s all in my mouth. Wool.”

Remus thought it was rather more like someone had packed his cheeks and sinuses full of cotton balls, but sharing that didn’t seem like the wisest choice. Nine hours of sleep. Dizziness still threatened every attempt at movement. The tap turned off and he heard Sirius’ footsteps approach; pressure compacted Remus’ ribs once more with a wobbly flop.

“I like this shirt,” Sirius mumbled into his left pec. His voice was thick—from his hangover or drowsiness or just giving up on English, Remus wasn’t sure. Knowing Sirius, it was a bit of all three. His stubble scratched gently over Remus’ collarbone, still damp from sticking his head in the sink. “Soft. Cute.”

“It’s one of yours.”

“Ah. I have good taste.”

“Clearly.”

The corner of Sirius’ mouth pulled up in a smile. “Hmm. Harzy and Tremz are going to be doing bag skates until their legs fall off.”

Remus snorted, trailing his fingertips through the squashed curls at Sirius’ nape. “Not to play frat boy’s advocate here, but in their very weak defense, I don’t think the punch alone did this.”

“Non. Margaritas.”

“I still think Lily poured extra in.”

“Ouais, prolab—probleb—oui. She did.”

A phone screen lit up in Remus’ periphery. He grabbed for it, stiff-fingered and extremely stuck beneath a lump of husband, and squinted into the bright light. “Pots says good morning, and that he’s going to go lay on the porch for a few hours. He loves you.”

“Mmph. Love, too.”

June 30, 11:25 p.m.

Sirius loved parties. He fucking loved them. This was the best night of his life. Second-best, after his wedding. Or third? He was happy when Harry was born. But no, his ribs were still broken then. That had to put it under tonight, because tonight was perfectly amazing and awesome, and James was his—

“You’re my favorite person,” he yelled over the music, leaning on James’ shoulder in case he didn’t hear. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” James shouted back. His glasses had gone a bit sideways on his face. That was fine. Lily would totally fix those for him. She liked to kiss his nose, and she had once told Sirius that fixing James’ glasses made sure she got to do it. Sirius thought she might want to pick something that wasn’t so easily broken.

“Hey,” he continued with a pull to James’ shirtsleeve. “I kiss loup on the mouth.”

“I know!”

“And the cheek!”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?”

“Because Lily kisses your nose,” he explained. Maybe the music was too loud for James to understand. He looked confused. “And you can break your nose. But you can’t break your mouth or your cheeks.”

Finally, understanding dawned on James’ face. “Dude,” he said. “You’re so right. We gotta go tell her.”

July 1, 2:07 p.m.

Remus set Sirius’ phone down on his lower back and reached for his own, wiggling a little when his hips got stuck under Sirius’ torso. A displeased huff followed—he kissed the top of Sirius’ head in apology and let the popsocket slot between his fingers, just in case. He was so clammy all of a sudden.

You Have (4) New Messages From: Lion Den RAHH

everyone not dead sound off

breathing.

Technically alive. Wish I wasn’t.

who made the fucikgn margs

New Message To: Lion Den RAHH

Not dead. Margs were Harz and Lily. You fuckers need to clean up after yourselves.

He had just clicked his phone off when the screen went retina-blasting bright again. Remus let his head fall back against the armrest and immediately regretted it. It took an embarrassing amount of time to lift his head again without the room tilting sideways.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Big words. Small brain. Still drunj

*drnuk

DTUNK.

Three gray dots scrolled, then vanished. Remus smiled to himself. The vindictive part of him was glad to see they weren’t the only ones in Pride-induced misery.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Some1 help knutty is snorng like a fucking chainswa

Remus glanced down. “Did you know Knutty snores?”

“In planes.”

The shallow rhythm of Sirius’ breathing flexed the shirt across his back. Remus gave an appreciative rub along the valley of his spine and felt him arch into it. “Aw,” he cooed. “My poor little hungover lion cub.”

“Nooo,” Sirius protested weakly.

“Poor baby. How will you survive.”

“At least you don’t snore.”

“True.”

“Is Harzy suffering?”

“As much as he can while he’s in bed on a Saturday with his boyfriends.”

“Good.”

July 1, 12:15 a.m.

“Bonjour, hi, hi.”

An arm caught him around the waist—Remus stumbled, but within half a step he had been gathered up against a warm, familiar chest. “Oh, hey,” he hummed, dopey even to his own ears. “Missed you.”

Sirius might have returned the sentiment, but Remus didn’t hear it through the buzz in his veins and the stutter of his heart when Sirius’ mouth found his own. He staggered backward with a sharp inhale and let Sirius carry their momentum. His back hit the wall; Sirius sighed into his lips when Remus dragged a hand through the top of his hair.

He tasted like oranges when Remus bit his lower lip. “Yum.”

“Love you,” Sirius said, smiling. Their foreheads bumped and Remus pushed into it. He was rewarded with another kiss that turned his ankles to loose jello. “Non, non, don’t leave.”

“Mmm, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised through a grin.

His eyes closed as Sirius’ mouth trailed over his cheek and jaw, then down to suck at his neck. “Should’ve done this earlier.”

Teeth grazed his skin with each word; Remus shivered despite the warm night. “Yeah?”

“Before the parade.” The sway of Sirius’ accent did unholy things to his heart. Stubble teased his skin when Sirius nudged under his chin. “That way everyone could see.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Remus breathed.

July 1, 3:45 p.m.

“Did you drown?”

Sirius glared at him across the bedroom, playful and foggy. Remus grinned and took a swig of Gatorade.

“You look like you did.”

“How are you rebounding?” Sirius grumbled.

Water droplets stuck to the mirror with each scrub of the towel through his hair. He’d left it longer than usual in the postseason, fluffy around his ears and neck. Remus was inclined to keep it that way as long as he could. He met Sirius’ gaze in the mirror and took another pointed sip. “Our lady of blessed electrolytes.”

“…give it.”

July 1, 1:30 a.m.

Sweat and glitter burned crystalline in the glow of multicolored LEDs. Sirius wasn’t sure where—or who—the glitter had come from, but finding one culprit in this crowd would be a losing battle, and one that required him to stand up. There was no way in hell he was leaving this perfect place.

Remus’ eyelashes threw shadows over his freckles when he blinked. “Do you think they’ll start leaving soon?”

“I’ve been hoping since midnight.”

His laugh was everything. Quieter at first, a mischievous snicker blooming loud at the end. Sirius let his eyes fall shut when Remus leaned over. His temple nestled against Sirius’ forehead. “Hi.”

The seam of his jeans rippled under Sirius’ fingertip. His quad flexed, and Sirius felt the weight in his lap grow heavier while Remus settled in. “Hey.”

“Proud of you.”

Sirius pressed his smile to a blush-warm cheek. God, he loved how pink Remus turned on nights like this. “I love you.”

It only took a minute adjustment, and they were kissing. He kept it soft and long and chaste, more a series of small pecks brought together by their closeness than anything. The tip of Remus’ nose was cool on the bridge of his own. He nibbled the corner of that grin and tasted bright apple-sugar, chasing it with a flick of tongue.

“You’re bad,” Remus murmured with audible delight, twisting slightly. He hardly went far—most of his weight rested on Sirius’ chest and he came closer without hesitation when Sirius tugged on his hips. His golden eyes flashed in the sudden transition from hot pink to blue lining their walls. “We have company.”

“So did Dumo.” Sirius kissed the roundness of his lower lip. “When we won the Cup.”

“We can’t throw a fuckin’ Pride party and then sneak off in the middle of it. It’s cliché.”

“If this is the middle, I’m sneaking off to sleep in an hour, and you can decide to join me or not.”

Remus’ laugh was loud all the way through, this time.

July 1, 6:00 p.m.

The groupchat had grown steadily more active as the hours passed and more of their friends were revived from their howling, sharp-toothed hangovers. Remus, for his part, had already sworn off alcohol six times in the past four hours. He hadn’t been left this hard-over since his junior year of college.

A gust of wind blew in from one of the many open windows and ruffled his shirt. Remus grimaced. “I still smell like a distillery.”

Sirius (who, despite his whinging, had recovered rather fast) sniffed the air. “Ouais.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Worth it, though.”

Remus gave him a sideways look. “Was it?”

Sirius glanced up and frowned, then set his slice of pizza down. “I liked the party.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” One of his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was nice, having people around. The parade was fun. Kind of busy.” He took another bite, tipping his head back and forth thoughtfully even as a gentle blush colored his neck. “I like showing you off.”

Remus liked to think he had grown accustomed to Sirius’ sweetness—to his big heart and kind words, both of which were reserved for a select few that somehow included Remus. Yet he constantly found himself left speechless, cast far out to sea by the sheer honesty Sirius saved for him.

He stretched a leg out under the table and tangled their ankles together. “Love you.” Remus tilted his chin vaguely toward the window. “Here, and out there. For us and them.”

“We should have more parties,” Sirius said by way of an answer. The blush had risen to his ears. His foot ran along the length of Remus’ shin.

“Okay.”

“I want to see everyone, and I want to love you so they know it.”

Remus’ face hurt from keeping his smile from drifting too close to utter lunacy. “Okay.”

“We should ban glitter next year.” Sirius nodded to himself, then nudged Remus’ foot. “And frat boys.”

“They’re gay frat boys, though. They have a right.”

The bridge of Sirius’ nose wrinkled. Fucking adorable. “Well, maybe they just need to pick a side.”

“Lily was partially responsible for the biohazard margaritas,” Remus pointed out, picking a piece of pepperoni off Sirius’ slice and adding it to his own.

“She’s out, too.” Sirius jabbed his pizza at him. “And you’re on thin fucking ice, thief.”

“I’ll pick her party over yours.”

“You can’t pick your best friend over the person you’re gay married to. It’s Pride.”

Remus stole another pepperoni, dodging the smack of Sirius’ hand. “Then I’ll get gay married to Lily.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Any marriage I’m in is a gay one,” Remus informed him, slouching lower in his seat to hook his calf around Sirius’. “I can gay marry anyone I want. I’ll gay marry a dozen people and go to all their parties over yours. Ha-ha-ha.”

Sirius flicked a piece of pineapple at him; it bounced off his chin, and while he was distracted, Sirius stole one of his pepperonis back with a triumphant grin. “Fine. See if any of them put up with you like I do.”

“Thief.”

A foot poked Remus in the back of the knee. “Doesn’t count if it was already mine.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pick Me 1

Warnings: this is a dark fic which may contain noncon, violence, and other dark elements. Please keep in mind that all events and characters are fictional. Be mindful of the content you consume and pay heed to the warnings given.

Character: Tony Stark

This is a sister series to One

Note: Please feel free to leave a comment in the replies, a reblog, or my ask. I appreciate likes but I enjoy discussing with you all even more. Your time and feedback are truly appreciated 💞.

You sit in the front row, like you do in every lecture. Just like you’re top of the class in every course. You don’t miss a class or a reading or a due date. Unlike the rest of your peers, you’re not here for the party life, you are here for an education’; for a future.

As your fellow pupils type their notes on their laptops, if they’re even bothering too, you’re writing each word by hand. You listen intently, eyes stuck to Professor Stark as he speaks with his hands, curling his fingers to emphasize his points. His voice carries effortlessly around the airy space, echoing in your ears.

You watch him just as rapaciously as you cling to his every word. His dark hair is laced with gray and his handsome features are lined perfectly with age. A man seasoned just right by the passage of time.

And he isn’t unaware of the effect he has, even on girls barely half his age, though there are few among his audience. Engineering tends to be inhospitable to the quote ‘fairer’ sex.

Yet his first-year physics is overcrowded with girls agog at his devilish smirk. It’s not lost on you how a wink could make one feel something or another. But you remind yourself that this is an academic setting and you shouldn’t be thinking of your professor in that light.

Besides, you’re not his type, are you?

You grimace as you pull your thoughts back to your slanted writing. Ugh, focus. You don’t need to watch Julie twirl her hair as she tries to snare Stark’s attention or notice how Lydia shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. These girls are there for an elective, but this is a core course. You can’t mess this up.

As the three-hour slot comes to an end, a sigh of relief ripples through the rows of students. Lap desks are folded down and laptops snapped shut. A chatter buzzes through the lecture hall but you take your time packing up.

You close your notebook and pull your messenger bag into your lap. Lydia stands, hooking her purse on her shoulder as she fixes her skirt deliberately. She’s brazen enough to spend the lecture beaming up at Dr. Stark without taking a single word down. He doesn’t even seem to mind as she takes obvious selfies and pouts out her lips. It’s like a game to her. Not everyone has a rich daddy to buy their degree.

Julie gives a moping look but is dragged off by her sole companion. You spoke to them once on the first day but quickly realised they are too vapid to stomach. You curl your lip as you glance over at the steady tide of fleeing students. 

Lydia takes her chance to approach the podium. She leans on it as Stark powers down the projector. You can’t hear her churlish whispers but he chuckles in return. As he looks at her, a gleam in his dark eyes, you stare. It’s like you don’t even exist.

She reaches to touch his sleeve and he leans in. His silty tone rolls through the silence but his words are indiscernible. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re right there. How could he want those dumb girls and their overglossed lips? You have a brain, you have substance.

Uh, but aren’t you just as stupid? Thinking about it at all. Wandering off in your mind when you should be studying? Spending those moments before your staggered sleep picturing Dr. Stark and his trimmed goatee, wondering if his silvered hair is as soft as it looks.

Pathetic. You sling your bag on your shoulder and march to the door. You grab the handle and pull it open, the hinges whining. You cringe and glance back. You’re a ghost, you are air, you are nothing to them. How can that be?

Neither of them notice you. They are close, so close. You could stay and watch them and they wouldn’t even know. Professor Stark shamelessly reaches to hook his finger down the front of Lydia’s shirt, given a tug as he leers at her cleavage. She giggles and you leave before your stomach turns.

You don’t want to be like Lydia. Or Julie. Or the countless other girls who’ve passed over his office desk. You don’t want to be another tick mark. You don’t know what you want. You just want that knot in your chest to come undone. It’s a distraction you don’t need.

You could never be jealous of those girls. With their short skirts and crackly trills. You could never fawn over a man with that dumb look on your face. You don’t want to simper to Dr. Stark, you want to have a discussion with him, to learn from him, to witness his genius. Those girls signed up because they needed to fill a box and because they knew his reputation. You sat on the waitlist for a month because you want to be the best so you need to learn from the best.

No, you are not like them.

Your fists ball so tight your nails jab into your palms and your jaw aches from gritting your teeth. It isn’t envy, it’s indignity. They don’t deserve to sit in those seats, they don’t deserve to take in his brilliance all the while it slips in one ear and leaks out the other. 

You just don’t get why he humours them. You don’t get how they are his type. They are empty. They are dull. You might not have the experience but you highly doubt they offer much more on their backs.

Well, you’ll be there next semester, in Physics II and they’ll be off to their arts classes, learning verbs and writing redundant papers on the meaning of the colour blue. He doesn’t see you now but he will. How could he not? You are not like the other girls.

[sc0tters]

Addicted | Luke Hughes

summary: when Alex and Trevor decide to voice their feelings about you it causing Luke to reevaluate his own.

song: Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

request: yes/no

warnings: mention of underaged drinking, slight bit of swearing.

word count: 2.03k

authors note: this song has been calling my name since I put it on the playlist, and let me just saw that I’m not upset in the slightest. This picture of Luke made me laugh so much that I had to put it in. If you want to check out the rest of the celly you can do so here!

Luke had been in love with you for years.

Thoughts of you consumed his mind from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to sleep. His heart rate would increase and his palms would grow sweaty as he watched you run across campus before you’d tackle him into a bear hug even though you saw him the day before. Every time you were in a more revealing outfit he’d stumble on his words like he had never spoken English before. Every year it was like half of his brain cells never made it to the lake house as all he could do was watch in awe as you’d walk around in shorts and your bikini tops.

But it was fine because you felt the same way as Luke.

The first time you realised this was after a ballet recital of yours when you were six and somehow Ellen convinced all three of her sons to come and Luke said that your tutu was pretty on you.

It like your whole world combusted in that moment as your semi toothless grin joined the conversation “you think so pookie?”

“I know so sparky.” Luke was never one to shy away from complimenting you and it made you swear he only did it to screw with you. The way your cheeks turned crimson red as you’d chew as the inside of your cheeks trying to hold in the inevitable squeal of joy at the compliment.

All of the scales seemed to increase when you went off to college, your friendship grew stronger as you remained his number one supporter, your love for him grew deeper as his eyes never left you at parties because other girls were never what he wanted. Clearly since everyone else could see this you would should have as well, right?

Wrong.

Totally absolutely positively wrong.

His love for you could have been written in big pieces of card in front of your face and it might as well have been like you were reading another language because you wouldn’t have believed it. The same thing went for Luke, every guy you turned down never made him feel more confident. In fact it usually made him feel worse.

You had the most athletic players flirting with you, the start football and baseball players all weren’t good enough for you. So what was to say that some hockey player would be what you wanted?

Luke was usually a confident man, he got that from being around Jack that it became a learnt trait. Yet you seemed to make him feel like a normal kid again. There was no need for the title of being drafted, or for his family name. To you he was just Luke or your pookie and it slowly ate up at him.

Just like every other year July meant it was lake house time. It was the third day of the trip and it was hotter than ever, literally the sun was scorching and you were out soaking it all up. Your bikini was the smallest one in your closet and it avoid the tan lines your top string was undone as your stomach lay on your towel.

Luke had been enjoying the sight he really was, your feet occasionally bounced as you had your favourite songs blaring through your AirPods and it was a sight that made his mouth water.

But when Trevor and Alex walked back in from the porch and started talking about you it caused the youngest Hughes boys mood to turn for the worse.

Trevor shook his head as he grabbed a drink from the fridge “I don’t know how you haven’t made a move yet Hughesy,” he confessed as he cracked the cap of the bottle open.

Alex nodded in agreement “huh?” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he knew that they were talking about you.

The Ducks player smiled “y/n is out of this world,” he pointed out as none of the older boys were stupid, you were a pretty girl and they all knew it.

Except Trevor was the only one who ever let you know about it, the constant flirting that came from his lips during this lake house trip. It seemed you being over the age of eighteen let you move away from the title of only being Luke’s friend.

Words of warning wanting to tell Trevor to fuck off were desperate to leave Luke’s mouth yet they couldn’t as you walked into the living room.

An oblivious smile formed on your face “what are y’all talking about?” You asked as you reached into the fridge to grab the container of cut up mango that you had made earlier that morning.

Trevor let his outstretched hand reach into the container as he took a piece “just about going for a ride on the boat later,” he lied as his eyes never left your mouth as some of the fruit juice dribbled down your chin landing on your bikini top “hope there is room for me on that boat,” there always was room for you but you were enjoying flirting with Trevor.

Sure you weren’t attracted to him like that but he certainly wasn’t harsh on your eyes “for you sparky? Always.” The nickname was one that you had picked up when you were five, you learnt what electric currents were when you found two wires in Quinn’s room and decided to place them together. The eldest Hughes couldn’t help but laugh when he walked in to see how your eyes lit up like you were in a candy store.

Luke scrunched his nose at the smile you sent the ducks player as you continued you eat your mango but when you pushed your hair behind your ears letting your chest now be on full display the Hughes boy could no longer take it “put this on,” he mumbled as he held out his baseball jersey.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked white fabric “okay?” You shrugged as you took the Tigers home jersey and slotted your arms into it.

But that didn’t seem to be enough for Luke as he came over to you and began to button the buttons up “Luke!” You groaned saying exactly what Alex and Trevor were thinking as they sent the boy a glare “perfect,” Luke smiled as he softly pulled your hair out of the jersey letting it lay flat behind your back.

His dagger eyes were sent to both Alex and Trevor the entire day, even on the boat when Quinn was teaching you to drive it and even when you were on Luke’s lap.

“Am I missing something?”

Your question pulled Luke out of his thoughts as he looked at you “what?” He asked as he let his fingers draw over your leg.

It irritated you as you could see that something seemed to be going on between Luke and the two older boys “you seem mad at them,” you sighed as your lips formed into a pout.

Sure it might have been childish to be upset but Luke usually told you everything “it’s nothing,” he shook his head causing your fingers to grip at your can of seltzer.

Yet your pokes didn’t go quiet like he’d hoped “Luke-” your soft words were only met with a glare “just drop it okay?” His complaint was only met with your wide eyes.

Thankfully at that time you were in need of a new drink. So you got up to get yourself a refill.

The boys watched in amusement as you walked back into the house “you really fucked that one up Lukey,” Trevor teased only adding to the boys anger.

Luke clenched his fist “you need to shut the fuck up dude!” He warned as he got up as he pointed his finger at the older boy.

It seemed like this was all bubbling up over today “just go ahead all to her,” Quinn’s voice was soft as he knew that you were on his brothers mind.

The youngest Hughes boy took a large gulp as he remembered that he had lashed out at you first.

Your head remained in the fridge as you looked at the different options for drinks.

The cool air on your face made you grow calm. It was soothing as you tried to not cry, you knew you were overreacting but all of Luke’s actions today seemed to weigh up on you in this never ending battle that you had created based on the feelings you felt towards the boy. Your thoughts were pulled away from your brain as the sound of the glass sliding door shut.

You turned around and was already faced with Luke “Jesus Christ!” You cursed as you clenched your chest.

Luke’s face softened as he looked at you “sorry,” he apologised as he crossed his arms.

He wanted to reach out to hug you “why are you so mad at them?” You asked as you watched the hockey player pick at the bracelet on his wrist.

All of the explanations that went through his mind all didn’t sound valid “it’s stupid,” that was the honest truth, he knew he was over reacting but that didn’t make it any less irritating to deal with.

You scoffed as you sat on the counter “that never stopped you from telling me,” you pointed out as most nights were spent with Luke in your bed laying his bed on your chest as you combed your fingers through his hair.

The way your lips were plump and your cheeks were tinted with a hint of red from the sun that had landed on in them made you look so very kissable.

But Luke remained stood where he was “they think you’re hot,” he explained with his voice barely a whisper as though he was ashamed to admit to it.

Your laugh made him feel better “do they now?” It was a clear stroke to your ego as you watched the boy grow embarrassed.

It shouldn’t have been nearly as amusing as it was “you thinking I’ve got a new best friend to get?” You joked causing him to furrow his eyebrows with annoyance.

Luke situated himself between your legs “‘ts not funny,” he mumbled as he rested his head on your shoulder.

A smile found its way onto your face “it’s pretty funny,” you nodded as you hooked your fingers under his jaw forcing him to look at you.

Your eyes were soft as they studied every feature on his face as though it was the first time you’d seen his face “it doesn’t matter if they think I’m hot,” you explained as you watched his face grow confused “only matter if it comes from a guy who hasn’t even said it.” You added as your tongue darted between your lips.

The hockey remained as clueless as ever when you let your thumb run along his jaw “who?” He was almost asking because he needed to finally hear that dose of reality of who it was that went through you mind in the way you went through his.

A moment of silence was heard so loud that a penny dropping wouldn’t even be noticed “looking right at him.” You confessed causing his eyes to widen.

It was like he was at a crossroads as the ball was now in his court. Truly nothing went through his mind as he was desperate to find the right course of action. The girl he had loved for all of these years, the girl he had longed for to be more than just friends, the girl was you and here you were with all of your cards out waiting for him.

Yet there he was frozen in time.

Again it seemed like it was your turn once more. So you leaned forward as you kissed him, it was brain meltingly perfect. Like that moment you do something that feels so good it makes your brain all hazy, like that.

Luke pulled away with his smile as his finger ran over your lips “what’s got you all smiley?” You asked as you cocked your head.

“I got the girl of my dreams.”

[factual-fantasy]

23 asks! Thank you!! :}} 🐶

Guys, please read the FAQ in my pinned posed before sending asks, like the ask button says. You don't have to read them all- just a quick check to see if i have answered your question already and especially to see my stance on requests.

I'm not taking drawing requests at the moment. If I hit an art block and start taking requests, I'll make a post about it and update my pinned post.

Again, please just take a quick glance at the FAQ before sending in your asks. It saves both of us a lot of time. Thank you! <:)

Currently there isn't actually a plot line I'm following- its more of a "day in the life of the neighborhood" kind'a thing.

The main points of interest though is Wally's home being alive and it watches him sleep at night.. this causes Wally to have terrible sleeping problems and anxiety. But no one knows Home is the culprit..

Another point of interest is Julie secretly actually being a huge beast that is simply disguising herself as this pretty little harmless neighbor.. she truly is a nice person and loves her friends, but she has disguised herself to look this way so that people wouldn't be afraid of her. Only Frank knows what she really looks like..

And lastly, Eddie is a real human from our/another world. He was somehow brought here to the neighborhood.. he has no memory of his original life..

Oh wow!! :000 That blue one is so pretty.... 🥺💞💞

@imdonewiththisblogsblog

A BUTTERFLY WITH CLEAR WINGS?? THAT SOO PRETYYYY💞💞💞

@littlelightfish

AAA THANYIOU!! :DDDD

Octo is intended to kind'a have normal old man problems- he's kind'a far sighted, has a cranky back, gets tired easy, gets winded faster than he used to.. other than that and the natural aches and sores that came after his major injury- (that comic you're referencing) he's relatively ok! :00 (Those dizzy spells that I talked about come from when he overworks himself.. normal old man things! <:D)

Seafoam is intended to be the youngest of his siblings, and his eldest sister was a rotten egg that had kids way too young.. and her kids were ALSO rotten eggs that had THEIR kids way too young. One of those kids being Red. So because of the age gap between him and his sister, and both generations having kids at like 20 years old... Seafoam is 55-65 and Red, his great nephew, is like 4-6...

Spider crab tends to not interact a whole lot with Pinwheel and Tuna, since they are a little too high energy and loud for him. 😅 But Coco and Red are nice company. :)

Spider does worry about the crewmembers that are missing limbs or eyes.. he does his best to offer help without overstepping. Sometimes those things are sensitive to talk about.. Also Spider sure looks old, but I pictured him being somewhere in his late 30s. Stress will add a lot of age to your face... 😅

I can see Spider crab, Louis and Tuna spending the most time in the kitchen just to be around Ellie. Although if one of them comes for a visit and one of the other 2 is already there, they probably wont stick around long. <XD Spider doesn't like Louis or Tuna's noise and Tuna like's to be alone with Ellie to talk peacefully.. As to who cooks when she cant... I can see the crew eating things that don't need to be cooked until she gets better. Pre-baked bread, easy sandwiches, etc- in an emergency though I can see the crew catching fish and Louis cooking them for the crew :))

Red might have nightmares yeah.. although his family were pretty rotten so this new crew is actually rather nice.. also Coco is his favorite playmate :))

AAA THANKYIUU!! :DDD IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE URCHINS DESIGN!! :)))) Unfortunately though, I haven't thought out her backstory too much..

I'm thinking she met Cuttlefish the same time the rest of the crew did. As for what made them friends, I kind'a like the idea that Urchin can see right through Cuttle's facade. She's not used to having someone see through all her lies, see the REAL her.. and still want to be her friend. Its nice.. 🥺

and finally WAARRHGHH THANKD FOR THIS ASK! :DDD MY HEART IS FULL OF JOY READING YOUR INTEREST IN KY OCS!!! :))))

Honestly? I have absolutely no idea XD 💀💀 All I know is Poppy is the oldest and Sally is the youngest. Sally is probably around 18-20--

@spirited-splashes

WWAHGGG THABK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD ITS MY FAVORITE THING TO DRAW!! :}}}}}

@legitanawkwardmess

ALKDKJENFKJEN THATS HILARIOUS XDDDD

I haven't decided what the neighbors reactions would be since I have no plans for Julie to reveal herself.. though even if she did, I have a feeling she would want to maintain her smaller form. Even if it takes more energy..

To Julie, this body represents who she really is. Who she really wants to be. This is how she want's the world to see her. Even if the truth got out and everyone accepted her. She'd stay in her smaller form anyways..

@i-only-created-this-to-read

So far I don't have intentions for there to have been any tenants before Wally.. or at least no one will ever find out who they were or what happened to them.

As for how old Home is, I haven't decided this and its also a complete mystery to the neighbors. Poppy has lived there ever since she was a child and Home was already there when she moved in..

Now Home could get creative and find different ways to harm or even kill those it doesn't like.. but thankfully Home doesn't have any intentions to hurt anyone, especially not Wally. Home wouldn't even try to significantly hurt Barnaby, despite him getting in the way of Homes plans.. although Home cant resist the occasional stubbed toe or splinter out of frustration...

As for adding stuff to Home's body.. if Wally purposefully slapped a strip of duct tape on the wall, that wouldn't really become a part of Homes body. Things only really attach to Home if they are significant.

Examples being a new shelf. An added wall to split a room, cutting a hole in the wall and installing a window, ripping up carpet and installing hardwood floors, etc. The nail holding up a picture frame or that nail gun plugged into the wall are not apart of Home..

Though that's not to say Home cant control the outlets, it can! But that would only give Home the power to turn the nail gun on and off. Home cant make the gun fire..

As for plants, even if they engulf Home and grow in-between the floorboards, Home cannot control plants.. or if there was moss or some kind of fungus growing on the walls? If it ate away at the wood that plank would just die off and Home couldn't feel/control it anymore..

Lastly, Home being able to move things quickly is kind'a what you would imagine. Home moves them as fast as that object can reasonably move. How fast do you think you could slam a door? How fast do you think the window would slam down shut if you gave it all your might?

I hope I cleared up these questions! :00 And sorry if I accidentally missed one or two! <:D

OUUGHH I LOVE THIS!! ITS MAKING ME WANT TO DRAW THE COMIC AGAIN XDDDD

No worries! :DD

@soulful-rodent

On desktop the limit appears to be 100, I'll see what I can do! 😅Also thank you! :))

AW! :DDD I'm glad they like it! But yeah absolutely keep it to the light stuff-- my Octonauts art has a surprising amount of blood in it for a kids show 💀

(Referencing this post)

I might just be! XD🪄✨✨✨Also thank you!! :)))

@captain-skyler1987

Oof... welcome back? <:D ... sorry-

Awe! I'm glad to hear you liked my Gravity Falls stuff!! :DDD Thank you so much!! :))

@jayemover-16

Oh no no! :0 reblogging is a feature of Tumblr and is not reposting! :))

My idea is that Wally only really has sleepovers with Barnaby. He would have sleep overs with Howdy too, but that Pillar's on a pretty tight sleeping schedule/routine <XD

Now Barnaby has noticed that Wally sleeps better when he crashes at his place. Because of this he has started offering his house as a getaway for Wally when ever he notices he seems a little extra tired..

Something to note; neither Barnaby nor Wally think something is wrong with Wally's house because of this- they're just starting to think that Wally's anxiety is worse when he's alone..

Also thank you so much!! :DDDD

@wolfie-777

I don't think much would change to be honest.. they'd still be the same old Wally and Barnaby even after a species swap!

This was sent right after I commented that I'm still open to Welcome Home suggestions. Are these Welcome Home AUs..? <:0 I am unfamiliar with them..

Oof, went back and fixed it. I tend to type too fast and get slime and smile mixed up. 😅

It can be a little embarrassing when people point out my typos, mostly because every single typo I make is pointed out every single time without fail.😅💀 But no worries, I know you meant no harm-

[oliversrarebooks]

fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace part 2: you can't be fucking serious

Masterlist > Next

TW: abuse, injuries, concussion, sedation, medical whump

Morgan awoke slowly, the sting of antiseptic in his nose. The only thing he could hear past the painful ringing in his ears was the soft beep of medical equipment. His body ached, especially his knee and upper back, and his head was pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He knew exactly where he must be -- in the medbay at his boss's lair -- and the longer they thought he was unconscious, the longer he could relax and heal before the punishments began.

His memories were vague. Lights overhead. Voices. The beeping of medical equipment. A rubber mask on his face.

He lay there, drifting in and out. The pain felt so fuzzy and indistinct. Painkillers? That was new. Salcedo never gave him painkillers. He loved to watch Morgan suffer way too much for that. You wouldn't make it far among the crime lords of the city if you didn't enjoy your work, after all. 

Maybe there was some trick to the fact that he was being allowed this pleasant buzz. Let him relax and let his guard down so it'd hurt more later. He could figure that out when his head felt better.

"...awake..."

Fuck. It was starting. Morgan tried not to react.

"Morgan, are you awake? We just need you to respond to make sure you've woken up from the anesthetics, and then you can go back to sleep, promise."

Morgan couldn't help his face twitching as he recognized that absolutely infuriating voice. Arthur. His blasted nemesis.

Oh, that's right, he had been captured. Lucky fucking him. He got to be completely at the mercy of the hero he'd been tormenting for years. And at the end of it, he might get the wonderful experience of his boss busting him out of captivity only to punish him for his failures.

"Morgan, please, wake up."

Begrudgingly, Morgan opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. Even the dim light of the room was like an icepick to the brain. He looked over to see the smug fucking face of Arthur, and that was even worse.

"I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, his voice weak and slurred. He was definitely drugged, he could tell, because he could barely even muster up the strength to be scared of what was going to happen to him.

"Good. That's very good," said Arthur. He sounded kind. No, he sounded like he pitied Morgan. Oh, fuck that. "You gave us all quite a scare. It was a little touch-and-go for a bit there, but the surgery went well, and you should make a full recovery, as long as you get lots of rest."

Morgan swallowed hard, trying to comprehend this. He'd been given surgery? What the fuck had they done to him? He was in pain all over, but he certainly didn't feel like he'd been turned into a mantis-man hybrid or anything like that. Or been lobotomized.

...Had they seriously just patched him up? After everything he'd done? If there was anyone naive and soft-hearted enough to do that, it was his fucking nemesis.

"How are you feeling?" said Arthur, his voice too gentle.

"Like your whole team shoved me into a woodchipper and danced on the mulch."

"Yes... Julie went a little too hard with the energy blasts. She's still learning how to control it," said Arthur. "But you know, you were..."

"None of this would've happened if I weren't trying to install a zombification device inside city hall? Yeah, got it, lesson learned, next time I install it in your stupid fucking hero lair."

Arthur scowled. "Was the plan your idea or your boss's?"

"As though my boss could build something like that. Did you even notice the craftsmanship, or were you too busy punching it apart?"

Arthur sat back in his chair, looking as if something was on his mind.

The room was filled with medical equipment, the kind Morgan could control with his technomancy. He reached out slowly, feeling like he was fighting through a wall of cotton, and got no response. The familiar, tell-tale feel of power suppressors. They were probably in the restraints. 

"You know, Morgan," Arthur said after a long moment, "when we had you under for surgery, our medic, Laurel, performed an examination."

Morgan turned away. He could tell where this was going.

"There were a lot of injuries there. Injuries that didn't seem like ones you got while fighting us."

"Training."

"It looked like you'd been kicked in the ribs repeatedly without proper healing," Arthur said. "And there were marks that looked like they'd been left by a taser, and a lot of electrical burns."

"Heavy training."

"That's not training, Morgan!" Arthur actually sounded angry, now, and it took all of Morgan's willpower not to flinch away. "I'm not even discussing the massive amount of nasty bruises or that infected cut on your shoulder. Those could've been sustained while fighting heroes. But not all of that. And even if they were, everything looked like it had healed wrong or been left to scar. There's no way that's normal. I know your usual activities. I see the reports of all of your fights. No hero did those things to you. Certainly not my team."

Ugh. What was the point of all this? To humiliate him? Now his nemesis probably knew all about his poor condition, his chronic pain and his trick elbow and the scars littering his back. And it wasn't like it was going to get any better when his boss got him back. Fucking wonderful.

But Arthur didn't sound humiliating or mocking. He sounded concerned, which was almost even worse. "Morgan, did your boss do those things to you?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and turned away. Or he would've turned away if he weren't so heavily restrained he couldn't roll over.

"Morgan, I'm serious. Did your boss --"

"No, of course not," said Morgan, packing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "You know how Salcedo is. Every time you defeat me, he gives me a nice pat on the head and a participation trophy, and he tells me that it's okay I failed, because I tried and had fun."

Arthur sighed. "He's abusing you."

"He's giving me my quarterly performance reviews. You're abusing my patience."

"While you were sedated, you kept fighting us off, saying you weren't allowed to sleep. Does he prevent you from sleeping?"

Fucking drugs. Morgan barely remembered what had happened, much less what he'd said. He remembered hitting the wall, pain, pain, pain, and then the most beautiful and relaxing feeling in the world, and finally oblivion. 

"...It's been obvious to me for a long time that your health is deteriorating."

"Shut the fuck up," said Morgan, his sarcasm dissolving with his frustration. "You don't understand a goddamn thing about my life, so don't pretend like you do."

"I understand that you're being abused!"

"I'm being trained to fight your team," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "Rich of you to go on about being abused when it was Julie who gave me a sixty mile per hour impact with a concrete fucking wall."

"That was an accident and you know it. And there's a huge difference between thwarting your plans and casually abusing you."

Morgan looked down at his hands. Like he hadn't noticed how the hero team always pulled their punches to avoid injuring him too much, even when he was scheming something really nasty. Like he wasn't so much more afraid of his boss than his nemesis. Like he really needed his nemesis's smug pity.

Why couldn't Arthur just fucking take revenge or whatever? It wouldn't even be that bad while he was hopped up on drugs. Hell, Arthur was probably too soft a heart to pull half the shit Salcedo liked to, even though he had far more reason. Just get it the fuck over with.

"Could you spare me your fucking after school special bullshit and just tell me what you're going to do with me?" With any luck, they would throw him in ordinary jail and not that awful psychiatric hospital. Either way, it wouldn't stop his boss from finding him and pulling him out again whenever he decided Morgan was needed. Or needed to be punished.

"Well, we can't let you go free, obviously," said Arthur. "But if we put you in jail, you're just going to get captured by Salcedo again."

Oh, Morgan hated the way he phrased that. Captured. Like he was a civilian being taken hostage and not Salcedo's right hand man and a terrifying villain in his own right.

Arthur was leaning in closer. "You don't have to work for Salcedo, you know."

Morgan's eyes went wide with shock as he realized the turn this conversation was taking. He laughed sharply, a little maniacally. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Arthur?" he said. "Did you also hit your head on a wall? Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"I think I know you quite well by now, yes."

"And you're seriously trying to get me to go straight? Join your merry little band of idiot heroes?"

"...it would take a lot of work, and a lot of trust, but yes, eventually. It's something I've thought about on more than one occasion," said Nemesis, who, against all odds, seemed to be completely serious. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. Salcedo is abusing you. Don't even try to deny it, because I've seen more than enough evidence. He's beating you, burning you, god knows what else. He's working you to the bone on ridiculous plans that will never work, and makes you the fall guy for them while he escapes unscathed."

Every word of that was true, and hearing it from Arthur made him want to punch him in the face.

"You're a smart guy. Ridiculously smart. And despite what you claim, you have ethical standards. Remember the time the two of us teamed up to get those kids out of the burning school?"

"They were kindergartners, c'mon --"

"You have ethical standards, no matter how shaky they can be. And you have courage and talent," said Arthur. 

"You think I can be won over with cheap flattery, seriously, Arthur?"

"How about cheap flattery and a cool costume?" he said. "But seriously consider what I'm telling you. You're a smart guy. We pay well, maybe not as well as Salcedo, but enough, and you'd get overtime when you have to work late. We have health insurance. Most importantly, nobody is going to beat you to within an inch of your life if you screw up."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing, I'll just do that," said Morgan. "And I'm sure that, after everything I've done to you, you're all just going to protect me when Salcedo shows up to get me back."

"Yes. I will. I absolutely will," he said. "...Because he's going to kill you. We both know that. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. And you don't deserve that."

Fuck. He sounded so serious. He was using his superhero voice. The one he used to tell terrified hostages that he was going to save them and that nobody was getting hurt. The one that was usually directed at the civilians Morgan was menacing.

 "I don't expect you to make this decision overnight," said Arthur, standing up. "You've got a lot of healing to do. A lot of time to think over where your life is headed."

"And you're just gonna let me heal?" said Morgan skeptically. "You've got me totally at your mercy in what I assume is your underground secret lair, and you're just going to let me lay here and heal up my injuries?"

"Yes. I mean it. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. As long as you don't try to cause harm to any of us, no harm will come to you while you're here. I swear it." Arthur turned as he was about to walk out the door. "All I'm asking is that you think about what I said to you. We'll talk again. The nurse is here to see you."

And he was gone, and Morgan felt utterly exhausted.

An older woman wearing scrubs with pride-flag-colored fish on them entered the room. She looked tired and a little scared. "Well, uh, Arthur tells me you're awake and lucid, Mr.... uh... Mr. Morgan," she said. "That's good. You were in pretty bad shape."

"Hmph."

"Can I look in your eyes with this penlight, please? You had a really nasty concussion, so you're probably going to be very tired and disoriented for a while as you recover."

Great. It was super great to be concussed and useless in the hero's lair. Still, he submitted to Laurel's eye exam without a fuss. It was one thing to sass his nemesis -- putting up a fuss for the medic was pointless when she was just trying to do her job.

"The only thing you can really do right now is get some rest," she said. "I can give you some painkillers, and some sedation if you think you'll have trouble sleeping. Would that be okay?"

Morgan let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure, yeah, I really want to be drugged up and helpless in the hero's lair."

"Well, you're not going anywhere," she pointed out. "You'll heal a lot faster if you get some rest."

Morgan scowled. He couldn't afford to be lounging on a bed in a drugged haze. He had to work on finding a way to escape, preferably with some valuable information or a hostage, in the hopes he could catch Salcedo in a good mood. 

But no matter how he looked at it, he was already exhausted, concussed, power-repressed, and in restraints. He wasn't successfully escaping a team of heroes in this condition, sedated or not. And if they wanted him at their mercy, they could come knock him out whenever they felt like it. 

So what difference would it make if he were drugged again? God knows his life was going to fucking suck enough once Salcedo came to drag him back. Might as well feel artificially good for a few hours.

"Yeah, I'll take it. Give me the good shit," said Morgan. 

"Right away," she said with a laugh. She pulled a few bottles of clear liquid from her pocket, and, consulting a chart attached to his bed, began to measure out doses. "You know, it's really interesting to finally get to meet you, Mr. Morgan."

"Scared?" he said, attempting his most menacing grin.

"...well, I haven't forgotten the things you've done," she said, which really wasn't what you wanted to hear when someone was preparing a syringe for you. "But the team thinks you deserve a chance, and it's a medical professional's responsibility to provide care for anyone, no matter their past. So I'll treat you like I would any innocent person. You have my word." The look in her eyes was distant. "You're not so frightening now, anyway."

Morgan tried to push down his unease. "Fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace."

"Of course you are," she said, injecting the drugs into Morgan's IV line. "This should kick in in a few minutes. It's going to make you very drowsy. I suggest actually getting some sleep and not fighting it. We'll be monitoring you, but if you have any complications, hit this button."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Morgan, smarting from the fact that he couldn't even intimidate the medic. He was at her mercy. He didn't like being at anyone else's mercy. He knew how he treated people he had at his mercy. How his boss treated people.

He hated being on the receiving end, when he was normally such a fearsome and threatening...

Fearsome and threatening...

Ohhh.

Whatever Laurel had injected hit him like a truck, because suddenly he was feeling real fucking good. It was like all of his anxiety melted away, his tight muscles loosening, the pounding in his head finally lightening up. He felt like he were being wrapped up into a wool blanket and carried off on a soft cloud to slumberland. 

Any thoughts of trying to scheme his way out of the hero's stronghold evaporated from his mind. He didn't even bother fighting as his eyelids grew heavy and threatened to close. He was so tired and felt so good. Sleep would feel amazing.

You're a smart guy. Just think about it. Arthur's words echoed in his mind as he began to drift.

Fuck you, Arthur. Like it was all so fucking simple.

Arthur probably knew him better than just about anyone. He must know that it would never work. Why even bother?

Morgan couldn't help but picture himself laughing and joking with Toshiro and Satomi and Julie, dressed in one of their ridiculous bright uniforms, working on gadgetry to help people instead of constantly getting his beautiful machines smashed to bits. 

Ridiculous. The fact that he was even thinking about it was the drugs talking. And now, the drugs were whispering to him that he should really just get some sleep. When would he ever get to sleep this well? Certainly not when his boss came to pick him up.

Part 1 >> Masterlist > Next

@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedme @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @sparrowsage

[b-o-e]

kiss farewell

Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: snugllin, lil smoochy kiss, you're being watched at one point hehe

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #8 :)

After a night spent at Wally’s, he walks you home.

“Good morning,”

With a muddled grumble, you rubbed away at the sleepiness in your eyes. Peeking up, you caught sight of the man you’d trapped beneath you, offering a dopey smile.

“G’mornin’, Darling,'” you uttered. Laying your head back down to rest on his belly again, you sighed softly. His hand returned to its spot on your back as you did, rubbing soothing little circles into it.

…

Huh. Sudden wave of déjà vu.

You lifted your head, brows furrowed in confusion, looking at Wally drowsily. He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“Hi,” he grinned. This felt awful familiar.

“... Hi.” You mumbled, things clicking together as you looked around. “Wally?” 

“Yes?”

You looked at him.

“... it wasn't a dream, right?”

“It wasn’t a dream,” he assured, chuckling a little. “I’m glad you didn't describe it as a nightmare, at least.”

“I would never,” you chuckled softly. “Only small portions of it,”

“How did you sleep?” He asked, shifting, trying not to move you too much.

“Wonderfully,” you hummed, “I’ve found my best sleeps have been while in your arms, it seems,”

Wally’s cheeks flushed, surprised by your answer. 

“You’re also a bit extra straightforward when you’re sleepy,” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“Sorry,”

“It’s cute,”

“You think so?”

“I do, yes.”

You giggled, pushing yourself up from your lying position and sitting back on your heels, seated in the empty space between his legs. 

“I fear if I don’t get up now, I’ll never want to leave,” You joked. Wally smiled. 

“Ha ha, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, propping himself up higher.

“I wouldn’t either, but I can’t let myself be so lazy,” you yawned, lifting your hands above your head as you stretched. “I’ve got to get back to my house and change out of these clothes,” 

“Allow me to walk you home,” 

“What a gentleman you are, Darling,” you smiled, “Sure, if you would like. Thank you for letting me stay,” 

“I wasn’t going to let you walk home so late at night. I wanted you to stay. Plus, I believe I was deserving of some compensation,” he quipped, laughing as you covered your face with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you groaned, the shame from your actions the night prior resurfacing. “It was just– I don’t even know. Instinct, for some reason?” You hopelessly tried to defend yourself.

“Instinct to hang up when someone’s halfway through telling you they love you?”

You stayed silent.

“... yes.”

Wally laughed at you, shaking his head in amusement.

“Whatever you say. No matter, I am happy with how the night ended,” 

You huffed, sliding off the bed, though a smile played at your lips.

“Yeah, me too.”

Wally had followed you out of bed, excusing himself to switch out of his sleepwear before taking you home. You plopped yourself down on his armchair, talking to Home as you waited, expressing your thanks for letting you in last night.  

In no time Wally returned in his casual clothes, standing before you and offering his hand.

“All set?” he smiled. You accepted his help, standing up with his assistance.

“All set,” you repeated with a nod, heading with him to the door. Home opened it for the two of you, Wally gesturing for you to go on ahead.

“I’ll be back in a little, Home,” Wally waved goodbye as the two of you headed to your house. 

“Mornin’, Sally! Julie!” Eddie greeted with a tip of his hat and a smile, digging into his mail bag. 

“Good morning, favourite mailman of mine!” Julie returned with a gleeful grin. “How goes it today?”

“Just swell! I’ve got a letter for ya in here, somewhere!” He replied, brows furrowing. “Er… I should, at least…”

“Ooh! Take a look over there,” Sally piped, eyes set on a particular sight. The other two’s gazes followed.

“Well, wontcha look at that,” Eddie remarked, head tilting in curiosity.

“It looks like they’re coming from Home,” Julie noted.

“Wally’s dressed, but they’re in their pajamas. Their arms are linked too, but that’s pretty normal for them, isn't it?” Sally added.

“... you wouldn’t reckon something happened last night, wouldja?” Eddie questioned. “Look at ‘em. Doesn’t something seem different? They seem… lax, less uptight,” he continued, “do you think they’ve finally confessed or somethin’?”

“Well, look at you go. Didn’t know you were a detective on the side,” Julie remarked teasingly. “I do think you’re right, though…” 

“Let’s follow them! See if anything happens!” Sally pitched, Eddie’s head whipping towards her with a look of shock. Julie was quick to agree.

“Ooh, good idea, Sally!”

“Huh?” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “Err, I dunno, fellas. Doesn’t that seem a bit… intrusive?”

“They’re in public,” Julie shrugged.

You and Wally walked together, pace slow and lazy, neither of you in a rush to leave the other. You made small talk, commenting on the beautiful weather today and plans for later on. 

Far too soon did you make it back to your house, a pit of discontent in your belly as your time together was coming to a close.

You turned your back to your front door, facing Wally with a soft sigh. Noticing his neckerchief being slightly disarray, you focussed your attention on it.

“Your scarf is a little cockeyed,” you murmured, reaching out and carefully untying it, leaning over to readjust it so that it sat right. 

Butterflies fluttered in Wally’s belly at the close proximity, the man lifting his chin a little to give you more room to work with. He watched you wordlessly, lips slightly parted, before he pressed them together.

“There,” you pulled away, satisfied with your work. “All better now, handsome,” you snickered softly, your eyes meeting his.

His pupils dilated when they met yours. You paused, cheeks flushing, realizing how close you had been, up in his personal space. 

“Sorry,” you murmured bashfully, stepping back. Wally shook his head, smiling.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Where would I be without your help?” He chuckled.

“Somewhere looking like a slob,” you joked, wiping off a fuzzy from his shirt.

“Goodness, it appears so,” he uttered sheepishly. “I suppose I skipped giving myself a once over. I didn’t want you waiting long,” 

“For you, I’d wait an eternity. There’s never any rush,” you assured. “However, I’m sure you have other plans you’d best be getting to. Thank you for walking me home,”

“You’re always welcome,” his hands interlocked behind his back. “I’ll see you later, neighbour,” he mumbled.

You cupped his face with one hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. His body tensed in surprise, cheeks reddening.

“See you, Wally,” you smiled, heading inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Wally standing there, trying to recover from his shock. 

Two fingers touched to his lips where yours had been moments prior, relishing the phantom feeling of them there. Releasing a lovesick sigh, he turned on his heel, ready to leave.

Your onlookers dropped like flies behind a nearby bush.

hello!!! I hope you enjoyed!!! lil snippets, hehe. I'm not too sure what to say today, so I suppose that's all!!! thank you!!!

here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

likes and reblogs are very appreciated!! have a good day today!! I will see you next time B) MWAH!!

Posted Thursday, May 11, 2023 at 12:22 PM

[nicomundthered]

I saw the gifts from violent night and he is🥵, I know it’s may but what you say about a story with our Santa daddy, thank youu

Santa May-be?

pairing: Nicomund(Santa) x fem! reader

summary: you are being very naughty, and Santa decides to make a surprise visit.

tags: 18+ this is mostly smut, a little fluff, but it’s really just smut.

word count: 7k | ao3

a/n: just going to be completely honest here, I don't know where this came from. Apparently I've been neglecting David because damn! I got carried away. I hope you were asking for smut because this is f*cking filthy. Like really this is only my second attempt at smut and…I am kinda scared.

Anyway thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy!

masterlist

18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+

Even Santa gets horny in May as it turns out.

Which was unusual. Nicomund has been Santa Claus for over a thousand years now. Time was different for him. One day out of the year felt like weeks, while the other 364 flew by.

That was at least until he started sleeping with you.

It had become his favorite part about Christmas which in retrospect was unfortunate. It used to be solely–unselfishly, for the kids but now…now he could not wait for his present. Which just so happened to be you.

Yes, since you entered his life he struggled through the other 364 days.

It didn't help that you were being unusually active this week. He sat in his workshop and had your notifications turned up loudly on his naughty/nice list. With each naughty deed you did, Carol of the Bells played loudly in the wrong key- indicating that you were in fact, being naughty.

At first he found it amusing, but after the third time just this morning he was getting pissed.

He knew what you were doing. You weren't a bad girl, at least not in the literal sense. No, you only pinged up naughty when you pleasured yourself or had sex. And that wasn't normal for the list. It normally kept zero tabs on people's sexual encounters. He wasn't exactly sure as to why it focused on yours.

Well he might have an idea – you see he and the list were…connected. And the things that he deemed naughty became naughty. He had that power and he himself had no clue how to control it, it just happened.

And for some reason, whatever did control it, had fixated on you.

He didn't have the tendency for jealousy, but he had grown quite enamored by you. It started a few Christmases ago when he heard you soft gasps as you were masterbating in your bedroom. He wasn't being pervy or anything, but the only thing you wanted that year was a toy. And he had it wrapped and in his hand. He only wanted to help you (at least that's what he told himself).

You were shocked at first but then saw the large and attractive man, and invited him to show you how it worked. He stayed for far so long that he had to practically throw the rest of the presents down their respective chimneys as he quickly darted around the rest of the world.

The year after, he brought you a new toy. One that he had made himself, out of a cast of his own erect penis. He’ll never forget how entranced you were by it. The way you told him how big and beautiful it was. The way you wrapped your fingers around it while making eye contact with him.

And it wasn’t until the Christmas after that that he even fucked you. When you held his cock in your hand the first time you muttered in his ear, “I knew it was yours”.

And last Christmas things had escalated. After three rounds and a few hours, he had told you his name. And then for a reason he had absolutely no fucking clue why, he told you about his past while you were satiated and playing with his chest hair.

It was domestic and he didn't do domestic. He was an ancient mythical being, not a human.

In short he had no clue what you were doing to him. You were always on his mind and you were making him very jealous and painfully horny in May. A point in his year that usually flew by, came to a sudden standstill.

If this happened in July at least he could use Christmas in July as an excuse…but May??? It wasn't even halfway until Christmas.

His head snapped as he heard Carol of the Bells again and just like Pavlov's dog, his cock responded to the sound. Blood quickly engorged his member and his balls tightened as if already ready for release.

He had it bad.

He pulled his cock from his red silk pants. He was already leaking and he knew this wouldn't take long at all. This was his fourth painful erection of the day and he was red and sensitive.

He annoyingly looked over to his trash bin and saw all of the used tissues just from today, mere hours in fact. You were turning him into a damn sex puppet is what you were doing.

He didn't bother wetting his hand as he roughly gripped his aching cock. He wanted the burn, he welcomed the pain. Maybe if he jerked off enough like this it would have an adverse reaction and stop him from getting SO damn hard everytime he thought about you.

It took seven, maybe eight rough tugs, all he had to do was think about you enjoying the toy he made you. Then he cried out as his painfully throbbing member spilled his seed- shooting it out all over his hand, pants, and desk.

This time there was very little satisfaction, he sought this release out of necessity because he didn't have the self discipline to not think about you. His cock was very raw now and he grunted and shuddered as he carefully placed himself back in his underwear.

After his breathing and wandering mind calmed down, he put himself in a bad mood picturing you at someone else's house. He angrily smacked his desk and then threw his stein- still full of steaming hot coffee against the wall of his workshop.

He huffed, dramatically crossed his arms, and sat back in his chair. He thought he was above this but as it turns out he wasn't. He opened his desk drawer and rolled out his large map. He spoke your name and his magical map located you.

Miami, Florida.

That explains it, he thought. At the beach, on a vacation…with whom he wondered. Who was so good that you had to be with them four times in a day?

Turns out you were with a couple of friends, all of which he knew of. But then he came across somebody new. Well not new to him, but most certainly new to you.

And this dude made Nicomund’s skin crawl. He had been on the naughty list his whole life, and not because of something particular that Nicomund just happened to make up. No, this guy was actually by the literal definition naughty. Most alarmingly, he's been known to treat women poorly.

Oh no, this won't do.

You were an angel and deserved to be treated like one. You were way too good for this piece of shit and if Nicomund was thinking clearly, he'd have noticed just how possessive he was becoming over you.

But he wasn't. He changed his clothes with an angry scowl on his face.

Now where was his sunglasses?

You were having an ok time. Your friends were already on the beach and your boyfriend was out buying alcohol for tonight. So you were enjoying a little, much needed alone time.

And by much needed, you mean – you finally got to cum.

Your boyfriend had fucked you three times this morning. Once he came so quickly and you didn't even have time to become lubricated. The second time he got into the shower right after he finished. You had enough time to grab Nicomund’s dildo from your bag, and god did you come quickly as the fullness stretched you.

The third time, if you even count it as such, he just wanted you to blow him before he left. You got on your knees and took his average dick down your throat and had him cumming in under four minutes.

As soon as he left you got out the dildo again and came even quicker than he had. It was nowhere near as satisfying as the real thing, but it most certainly was better than any alternative.

Little did either of you know that the cast he made of himself was magical. And that everytime you used it he could feel the phantom grasp of your wet pussy and you could feel his warm velvet hardness. What he attributed to his Pavlovian response or his imaginative mind was actually just your magical cunt. And what you thought was just being properly filled was actually his perfect erection.

You'd both eventually figure this out and make proper use of it and maybe find out new abilities, but at this time you were both clueless.

You cleaned up your mess. You always flooded any surface you were on when you used the toy. And then you put on your bikini. It was red and the bottoms showed…a lot of your ass, but this was for the most part an adult beach so you didn't find yourself embarrassed or worried about children's eyes.

Just as you grabbed the sunscreen there was a loud banging at the door. On first instinct you grabbed your phone and a heavy sculpture of a seahorse to use for self defense. Which looked ridiculous but you knew how people robbed these beach houses. Then you walked over to the door.

You desperately hoped that it was just one of your friends needing to use the bathroom or your boyfriend with his handful of groceries, but you knew that it hadn't been long enough for that.

The banging happened again, this time louder and more persistent.

“Who is it?” you said as confidently as you could manage.

“Open up,” the voice was muffled through the thick door but it was still loud and to be honest scary as fuck.

“Not until you tell me who it is.”

You could almost hear a growl through the door, which sounded oddly familiar. “If you don’t open this door right now you wont get anything for Christmas this year.”

It only took your brain seconds to put the pieces together, “Nic?”

“Yes, now open up or I’ll break down the door.”

You complied quickly and swung open the door, almost dropping the heavy seahorse in your hand.

Your eyes widened when you saw him. He was wearing a short sleeve red and green Hawaiian shirt and black shorts that almost looked like swim trunks. He had on sunglasses and his hair was in a bun.

This would be funny – this should be funny. Santa Claus in Miami dressed to go to the beach should be humorous. But it soooo wasn't.

It was rare you two were ever standing when you were around one another and if you were, he was holding you up, so you sometimes forgot just how tall he was.

His arms and shoulders looked absolutely massive. You practically gulped when you remembered just how strong they are. He looked a little leaner to you. Probably because of the time of the year. You wanted him healthy but you almost frowned – you really liked his belly.

But what was most striking to you was his skin. True you had seen him naked many times but always at night, with soft lighting. Now you could see just how milky white he was in contrast to his numerous tattoos. How absolutely soft and smooth his skin appeared, which you knew was factual. And now the smattering of dark gray almost black hairs on his forearms stood out.

He made your mouth water.

But when you had snapped out of your daze you got worried. Why was he here?

“Is everything ok?” you asked with true concern displayed on your features. Your only contact with him was on the night before Christmas. What was he doing here in May?

He looked like he was snapping out of a daze of his own, “No, everything's not ok,” he ground out through his clenched teeth.

He opened the door further and stepped inside.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” you knew who he was probably talking about but your brain wasn't exactly functioning currently.

“You know damn well who I'm talking about.” He called out a few times and looked around. When he was satisfied he looked back at you.

Oh, he was jealous. The thought made you press your thighs together.

He noticed and it made him take a deep controlling breath in. He threw off his sunglasses not caring in the slightest where they landed.

“Shut the damn door and come here.”

You turned quickly and shut the door, but struggled to lock it because of what all was in your hands.

You heard him hiss. You then blushed as you realized your almost bare ass was now facing him. You then heard his heavy footsteps behind you.

“You are having such a naughty year,” he grabbed both of your ass cheeks that were hanging out of your skimpy bikini bottoms.

He smacked them a few times and watched them jiggle, he felt himself immediately harden. “On full display for the world to see. Do you have any idea how many people you'll put on the naughty list wearing this?”

He suddenly yanked them down your legs and pressed your front half hard against the door, while bringing your bottom half up and closer to him. You dropped both the seahorse and your phone. Both shattered but thankfully missed your feet, you didn't flinch, there was only one thing on your mind.

He shoved his face into your crease.

With your face to the door you didn't even notice that he had gotten on his knees, and you moaned in surprise and absolute delight as he put his face into you from behind.

He lifted his face by the smallest of margins from your center, “When I passed you I could smell him on you,” he went back to your crease momentarily and hummed, “I only smell you now.”

“Oh gah,” you felt a wave of moisture flood you. You may be naughty but he was dirty, and man was it a turn on for you.

“I was worried,” he used his nose to run through your folds, “Don’t want you to smell like anyone else.” He had no clue what he was admitting to you, you didn't either- you were far too aroused.

“Nic–”

He suddenly added his tongue to the mix. Licking you up and down, “You don't taste like him either,” he lapped at your entrance tasting your wetness, “Just taste like mine.”

You moaned sinfully, “Let’s go to the…”

He lunged his tongue into your tight wet little hole. It made you arch back and jam your ass hard into his face.

“Yes, just like that.” he groaned loudly, vibrating your core. You could barely hear him over his face being absolutely suffocated by you. You weren't worried for him though, he loved it when you sat on his face. And the amount of times he's asked you to do it…you knew that his lung capacity was very good.

Juices and his drool were flowing down your thighs and down his chin soaking the collar of his shirt. The wet lapping of his tongue and your ragged breathing were the only two sounds.

His tongue went farther and somehow farther still, until he started poking at your favorite spot. You start clawing at the door, and you almost couldn't believe it – you were about to come on his tongue.

Now you could blame it on many things, after all you were extremely sensitive and yearning from a day of unfulfilling activities, but regardless, when his tongue started poking your g-spot you started squirting all on him.

He was absolutely relentless until he got a somewhat heavy flow started and then he just opened his mouth and drank you in.

“That's a good girl, give it to me,” he said as you continued to rain down into his mouth.

Your legs started shaking and you suddenly felt like you could no longer stand. He read you perfectly and stood lifting your trembling soaked body up with his.

You put your arms around him and looked at him in such a pleasant daze. You softly gasped as you saw how blown his pupils were, more black than blue. His beard was absolutely soaked making it look a couple of shades darker, and he had a smirk on his handsome face.

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him, tasting the salty-sweet tang from yourself along with Nicomund’s wonderfully delicious mouth. And then you pulled away from the kiss and smacked at his frim chest.

“What do you think you're doing?”

He laughed and started walking you to the bedroom.

“You can't just fuck me –”

He threw you to the center of the large bed. That only shut you up for a second.

“I have a boyfriend you can't just —”

He laid halfway across the bed just so he was face to face with your drenched swollen cunt. He roughly parted your legs. “There she is,” his voice was low as he complimented your pussy.

“Nic…OH!”

He roughly pressed his face into you again. Though this time since he is facing it, his tongue and nose kept brushing your overly sensitive clit, making it a very different experience.

He used his hands for the first time and reached up to grab your covered breasts. His large hands covered them as he not so gently massaged them. Your nipples were already painfully hard and that made him hum into your core once again.

“Take this off,” he commanded as he started to make out with your folds. The smacking sounds of his skillful lips just made you wetter.

You complied quickly, jerking the top over your head. You propped yourself on your elbows so you could look down at him.

His mouth then began to suck. He sucked each fold, and then not as an afterthought, but instead to build the anticipation he finally finally sucked your clit.

Your eyes rolled back a little and you gave a throaty exhale.

He paused and chuckled into you. He released your breasts and moved his hands underneath you to slightly tip your hips up for him. “Hold your legs out for me.”

You did as he requested and held your ankles and spread your legs as wide as you could. You felt your muscles stretch but wanted to give him as much access as you were able to.

He tilted you up a little more, and then started moving you up and down on his face as he continued to lick. The rocking motion was helping him reach the whole length of your crease quickly. The sloppy wet sounds kept getting louder as he kept moving you against his face.

You were moaning like crazy now, and just when you felt your legs start to ache from the stretch he pushed your legs together and pushed them up and back towards your head in a half-backwards roll. He held your legs together tightly.

From this position he could tell just how pink and puffy he had made your pussy, “You like this baby?” he playfully smacked your sensitive cunt a few times. The smacking sounded wet and little drops of your arousal splashed all over the bed and drenched his hand.

“Yes!” he barely gave you a chance to yelp out before he pushed his middle finger inside of you.

“Oh sweetheart you are already gripping me like you're about to cum.”

His voice shot straight through you making you grip even tighter and flutter around his large digit. He pumped in and out a few times, moving slowly, driving you insane. Of course now he'd choose to play with you.

“Give me my finger back baby,” he laughed and slowly pulled it out of you. A long strand of your arousal followed and he slurped it all into his mouth, “I’m not done eating you yet. You taste so damn good.”

He pushed your legs back farther behind your head and held your hips high up towards his face. He was now kneeling on the bed, with a huge tent in his shorts, you desperately tried to grab it. He moved his hips just out of your grasp, “Not yet. You don't get what you want yet. You've been a bad girl.”

He held your cunt so high up now he barely had to bow his head to reach it. You crossed your ankles behind your head as he started to move his mouth against you roughly. Your own body was bent far and weighed down by your lower half, it made it hard to breathe, but the constricted airflow somehow turned you on even further.

He sped his licking, with one hand keeping your legs together while the other occasionally smacked your ass. His beard was beginning to burn you in the best way possible.

“Nicomund pleeeaseee.”

It was the sound of his full name that made him give you pity. If this were up to him he would continue to lick and suck you for hours. He loved your taste and smell, and just getting it once a year was nowhere near enough.

Almost reluctantly he slowly placed two fingers inside of you, you moaned at the stretch, and then he focused on sucking your swollen clit while pumping into you, curling his fingers with each insertion.

It took absolutely no time and you exploded on his fingers. Gravity caused your cum to dribble down your stomach past your breasts. You felt the sheets beneath you soak. And this time your vision did fade out but only momentarily.

As you came down you were still pulsing, and then all of the sudden you felt the pressure again. All of the sudden it felt like too much. He was still licking, even quicker it felt like. You desperately tried to back away, the overstimulation was extreme.

“Nic, st- stop.” you kept trying to slide back but he held you firmly. You weren't going anywhere.

His licking and slurping became even more intense, and in record time your eyes rolled way back into your head and your body shook violently. You tried to push his head away, but by the way you were cumming he could tell that you didn't mean it.

When you finally started to come down from your third orgasm he dramatically slowed down his sucking and moved back to slow licks up and down your slit.

You jerk slightly every time he made it past your clit but it was bearable. He was slowly coaxing you down, almost lovingly you thought.

When you finally could open your eyes, you looked up at him and smiled. He gave you a suck on your inner thigh that would leave a mark. You knew that he did it for one specific reason, but you didn't really want to think about what this meant for your relationship…if you could even call it that. But that was to think about later…

After you’ve had his cock.

“Hey,” you said as he slowly laid your lower half down and then crawled his way up your damp body. He was still fully clothed and as he laid gently on top of you and gave you a deep kiss, you had the thought that he was soaking up your juices with his shirt for later. That's how he was, dirty.

“Hey,” he said after the breathtakingly sweet kiss.

“What are you doing here?” you moved a strand of hair that fell from his bun out of the way.

“Christmas is too far away.”

You looked at him as if to say yeaaaah?

“I- I missed you.”

You smiled and kissed him again.

“I missed you too.”

“Did you you?” he looked at you skeptically, his brows furrowing, “Seems like you've been filling your time with –”

“Shut up,” and then you chuckled.

“What?” he said, almost annoyed.

“I am making Father Christmas jealous. Who woulda thought it?” you laughed again.

“It’s not funny. He's not a good guy.”

“I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself,” you reached down and grabbed his hard as steel cock.

He visibly shuddered as you started slowly moving up and down his clothed erection, “He’s- he is not…been on the – for all, of…his - life.”

“Shhh it's ok,” you soothed as he struggled speaking. “Let me take care of you now.”

He nodded, completely silent except for his deep breaths in and out from his nose.

This was unusual for him and you filed it back into your mind to bring up later. He was normally rough and dominant, which to be fair he has been, but suddenly he had given you all the power. Like he desperately needed this but was too proud to tell you that.

You slid down his shorts and gasped at how purple and engorged he seemed.

“I've had an- eventful day as well.”

You grabbed him softly because he almost looked like he was in pain, and you didn't want to hurt him.

“Don’t you dare. Grab it!”

You did firmly, and his head bowed and touched your forehead, “Fuck you have no- no idea how- how good that feels.” he kissed you again, you bit his bottom lip and he groaned into your mouth.

“Lay back,” you whispered.

He did and your hands left his cock and started unbuttoning his shirt. He grunted in displeasure, “Get back down there now,” he yanked the shirt off buttons flying everywhere and the material ripped in two.

You pussy pulsed at the sight. He was just so fucking strong.

You moved down him slowly wanting to tease but knowing by the look of his purple leaking member, he wasn't up for that.

And besides, now you knew that it was time to treat him. Little did he know that for the past five or so months, ok it was after you begged to suck him off last Christmas but he didn't let you, since then you've been practicing on his dildo. You could now take almost all of it down your throat and you couldn't wait to show him.

You took him in your hand and gave his leaking slit a lick. He was salty and musky just like you liked him.

His hips jerked up and you playfully said, “I believe after what you put me through –”

“Please don’t, I ne- need you now.”

You realized that for him to ask this he was desperate. And judging by the look of him, he was in pain.

You nodded your ok and his shoulders relaxed a little.

Then you laid on your stomach and propped yourself up on his thick thighs. You gave him a few firm strokes and then licked the underside of him. He groaned and you smirked, you were about to blow his mind.

You sucked on his tip and he squirmed. He opened his mouth to beg again, you knew it, you could see it in his body language and so you abruptly opened your throat and swallowed him down.

His upper and lower body jerked up like he was trying to do an abdominal exercise. His eyes shot to you, wide and shocked, and he hissed out “Oh fuck!”

You stayed all the way to his base. Your nose in his curls and your chin pressed to his balls. You counted to fifteen slowly.

For the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to do. His fists gripped the sheets roughly, peeling them from the mattress. His breathing was almost embarrassingly loud and his sole focus was on not spilling down your glorious throat.

You slowly sucked your way off of him. Spit connected you to his cock even as you pulled away to smile at him.

“I can't take much of that baby.”

“Much of what?” you smirked and launched him down your throat again. This time with his cock sheathed you moved your tongue and lapped at his balls. You were proud of yourself and only slightly gagged once.

This time he was better prepared but only just, “Your boyfriend teach you that?”

You knew that he was desperately trying to keep from cumming. He was wound tighter than you'd ever seen him, his muscles were flexed and shaking, but for some reason he didn't want to cum yet. You imagine that mentioning your boyfriend did bring his arousal down a few notches.

“Nope,” you said as your mouth popped off of him. “I've been practicing on your dildo for your Christmas present.”

His mouth opened in disbelief. Naughty!!!

“That’s very –”

You went down again, but this time continued moving at a slow pace – all the way to the tip of him, down all the way to his base.

That sparked something in him and he put one hand on the back of your head and one caressed your throat. He pushed your head up and down roughly, while simultaneously feeling his cock make your throat swell. Believe it or not this was the first time that he'd actually experienced true deepthroat.

Others had tried but he was too long and girthy, but you, you naughty thing- were taking him like it was your only mission.

Controlling your gag reflex made your eyes tear up and turn red. Spit was pouring out of your mouth now and puddling at his base. He was being rough but it was the good kind of rough. You wanted him to enjoy this, you had practiced a lot for this moment.

And by the looks of him he was most certainly enjoying it. More hair had spilled from his bun. His skin was tinged pink and had a thin sheen of sweat. Every line and wrinkle on his face was amplified by his scrunched up expression, fully concentrated on what you were doing.

He had kept your mouth off of him for the most part in your previous encounters. That was because he enjoyed being inside of you so much he didn't want to waste a minute. But what he just found out was that he was still inside of you this way. And it shocked him at how much you seemed to be enjoying it as well.

You pulled away needing a breather and to give your jaw a little break. You gasped for air a few times and spit all the saliva pouring out of your mouth onto his cock.

You went back down quickly taking him off guard this time. You wanted to feel him spill down your throat, and by the way his head shot back and his balls tightened you knew that any second now you were going to get what you wanted.

“Off,” he practically croaked.

You kept sucking, your sounds were getting ridiculously sloppy.

“Get off,” you could tell that his heart wasn't in his command. He tried to move your head back but you stubbornly fought back, taking him deep.

“STOP IT!” his yell made you still and he pulled your head from him, you sucked as hard as you could on the way up. “Fuck!”

He pulled you to him so your mouth was nowhere near his throbbing member. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried his best to get off the edge. He managed but only just, and only with his eyes glued shut.

“Did you like that?” you cooed as you rubbed his broad-heaving chest.

“You know I fucking did.” He pulled you down for a kiss. You lost your balance and landed on top of him.Your lips were sensitive from the work they’d just done, and his beard lightly tickled them.

Then he absolutely claimed your mouth, every nook was his.

He never enjoyed kissing this much, but kissing you was different. There was something he liked about it, a little too much. He loved your soft lips and when your tongue danced with his it turned him on so much.

“I need you to get on all fours. And I need you to cum quickly.” You continued kissing him and made your way down his neck. “You hear me?”

He rubbed his hand on your lower back as you continued to nip and suck on his neck. You made your way to a scar on his clavicle. He hissed and then smacked your ass, stopping your descent.

“Hey!” You whined.

“I said, did you hear me?”

You shook your head no and moved back in for a kiss. Your eyes were heavily lidded and your own arousal was back at full volume. You were so far gone you couldn't concentrate.

He held you back, “Hey, look at me.”

You did. You blinked at him almost lazily, and bit your lip.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” His thumb caressed your bottom lip as your teeth released it. You suckled at his digit. His eyes darkened even further and he slowly said, “I need you to get on your hands and your knees and I need you to cum quick sweetheart.”

You complied and slowly got into position. You were thankful that he wanted you this way. You never lasted long when he took you from behind.

He sat up and damn near passed out. There was too much blood heading south and not enough heading to his brain. He waited until his head rush went away and scooted behind you.

He rammed into you suddenly. You were both so well lubricated he knew that he could without causing you any pain, well real pain at least.

“Nic!”

He took no mercy. He was gone, long gone. His cock disappeared into you fully. He pistoned into you with short, rough strokes. Hitting you right where you needed to be hit repeatedly.

You rested your upper body on the bed, sticking your hips higher. Which made him ram into your spot even harder. You put your arms behind you and he held on to them tightly.

You were going to cum if he kept up his pace. You felt yourself begin to flutter around him.

“That’s it baby. You're such a good girl, listening to me so well.” His hips were smacking into yours with a wet slapping sound that seemed to echo throughout the room.

“Please please please.” You started pushing back into him desperately as he pushed forward.

“I’ve got you.” He reached around and started circling your clit.

“God, I’m gonna, Nic I’m gonna — ”

“Cum for me.”

And you most certainly did. You strangled his cock with your contractions and practically screamed, “Nicomund!”

He almost sobbed at the feeling of you cumming around him. It’s what he’s desperately needed for five long months. He felt your cum coat him as you screamed his real name, and at the last squeeze of your intense orgasm, he came.

He came so hard he yelled your name loudly. His hands grabbed your hips roughly and he wished he could let up, he didn’t want to bruise you, but he needed something to tether him to the earth – to keep him from passing out on top of you.

You made him cum so hard he was dizzy.

He spurted into you, filling you up fully. You felt his hard cock twitching inside of you and you felt his warmth flood you, gushing out as he continued to ram into you.

He came for so long that you were impressed. His cock seemed to twitch inside of you for minutes.

As he slowly regained his senses, he gently attempted to sooth your hips – where he had held on for dear life by softly rubbing them. He pulled out slowly and you both hissed at the loss.

But you knew to stay absolutely still.

He bent down and watched some of your mingled cum pour out of you. Then he licked you clean. Normally he would clean you by eating you out until you came again, but he knew that you were absolutely spent, so he kept it to the bare minimum. Lazily drinking what he could, as you squeezed out what he left behind.

He sighed contently as he laid on the bed and pulled you to him. You immediately snuggled into him and placed your hand on his chest.

You both laid there in a comfortable silence. You felt so at peace when you were in his arms. So very safe and warm. It was your favorite place to be. You cared for him, and you didn’t think that he knew that.

But you also felt like that this whole relationship thing, or whatever it was, was his call. He knew more than you did, and had more riding on it than you. Though, you couldn't help it, you really wanted to tell him what he meant to you.

How you felt when he was around. How you thought about him throughout the year. How you couldn’t wait for December. How he was making you wish your life away by always wanting it to be Christmas Eve.

“What are you thinking?” His voice was so soft and gravely.

“Nothing.”

He lifted his head up and looked down at you, raising his eyebrow in disbelief.

“I just — this was fun.”

He rubbed your back, “It was.” He was silent for a second and then continued, “Listen, maybe we need to come up with a way to do this more than once a year.”

You looked up at him and your face was absolutely beaming up at him. “That sounds good.”

“Yeah?” He smiled.

“Yeah. That would be great Nic.” You moved your hand down to his belly and gave him a hug.

He pulled you tighter into the hug and kissed the top of your head.

“I have one condition.”

You tensed a little having no idea what he was going to say. “What is it?”

“You're mine alone.”

You took a moment to really decide if that was what you wanted. It didn’t take long in all honesty, you just didn’t want him to know just how much this meant to you.

“I’m yours.”

He looked shocked and something almost sinister clouded his eyes, he felt possessive again. Hearing you say that snapped something in him, or rather, maybe it tore something down.

“Can I request the same from you? I- it’s ok if — ”

“You’re it.”

You smiled again, he could feel your cheeks move against his skin, and you pressed a kiss on a deep scar on his chest.

The two of you laid there for a few more minutes. When your eyes became heavy and your breath deepened, he gently shook you.

“I have to leave.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you held him tighter.

“I don’t want to go. Believe me, but I have to.”

“I know. I’d never keep you from being Santa Claus.”

You both slowly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. He looked over at you seriously. His brows furrowed and his hands gripped his knees.

What you had said affected him so deeply.

When you had mentioned him being Santa it was like throwing ice water in his face. He would never stop being Santa Claus, and you only had a couple decades left of your life. He fought the sudden urge to walk away from it all, and stay in this bed for as long as you had left.

You moved in front of him and stood between his legs. You pulled his head to your chest and you rubbed the back of his head lovingly. He wrapped his arms around you and looked up at you.

“Whatever we can have Nicomund. That is what I want.”

His damn eyes teared up and you leaned down and kissed him.

“I don’t want you to but you need to go. You have a lot of work to do.”

He laughed, and then sighed, “It seems like it never ends.” He was thankful you had quickly moved on because he was a heartbeat away from giving you absolutely everything.

You backed away from him. “When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to have to invent a way for us to communicate.”

“No phones?”

“Not at the North Pole I’m afraid.”

“Oh…”

“But don’t worry, I'll think of something. It’s kinda my thing.”

You laughed and he stood up and towered over you. Gosh he was so tall. He kissed you again and then smiled at you.

He put on his shorts and slid on his shoes. He found both halves of his shirt and slung it over his shoulder. He used magic and cleaned and straightened the bed.

You walked him to the door where he used his magic to fix your phone and the stupid seahorse sculpture.

“Why don’t you just fix your shirt?”

He smirked at you, “Oh you know why.” He tilted his head, pressed his nose into the fabric, and took a deep sniff.

You reddened and were about to say something when the son of a bitch touched his nose and disappeared.

He wouldn’t get away with this, you’d make sure of it.

THE END

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 5

I’m so terribly sorry that this so late. I wasn’t entirely sure how I wanted to end this, and I almost added another chapter, but here it is!! Thanks for your patience and for 1k 🩵🩵 (ps you should listen to nothing to be scared of by Kacey Musgraves)

table of contents our town

You’re staring at him again. Jamie hates it, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to gaze into your beautiful eyes once more.

“Hm,” you say, because you can’t come up with something better. Instead, you let him be uncomfortable. You spent a long time making space for him, so in this, he can wait.

“I should have left you,” you say eventually.

“I know,” Jamie replies ruefully. “Remember you fuckin’ told me?”

You nod. “I do. And then I told you that I never leave. I always stay till the last second, and it’s the worst thing about me. And you said-” You pause. There’s no point in bringing up the past.

“I said some stupid shit about my mum,” Jamie fills in.

You nod. “Yeah, it was stupid. I know you said it just to get me to stay.”

“Didn’t,” Jamie interjects. You give him a look. “Alright, shit, maybe I did. But I wanted you to stay. I loved you, I was just too fucking scared to say it.”

“I gave you SO many opportunities to tell me,” you reply. “And you didn’t take any of them, you just left me behind. I knew you were going to so it’s fine, but you can’t just come back into my life and fuck things up again. I’m really not in the mood for it.”

You’re lying straight to his face, and you wonder if he knows. You hope he doesn’t. All you need is to wait just long enough for Jude to come back and then Jamie can go away and you don’t have to let him back in. Not that you have to. But you want to.

You understand that the moment he lets you have an inch, you’ll take a mile. You’ll write your whole future together based on a passing comment or an arm around your waist.

But Jamie knows you’re lying. You see it flicker in his eyes for half a second too long, and you know you’re screwed.

You take a step back. Jude isn’t coming back.

“I’m going,” you say. “I’m going, so don’t follow me. I can’t take you back. We won’t work.”

And Jamie- Jamie sees it.

You were always the visionary, weren’t you? The one who designed the future as though it were as easy as scribbling on a piece of paper. The one who saw the worst but believed in the best, and Jamie never quite believed you the one time you told him it could work forever, if he wanted.

He believes it now, though.

It’s too late as you slip past him and back inside, presumably to find Julia and keep her from committing murder; or maybe you’ll let her have free reign and Jamie is a dead man in about fifteen minutes.

It drives him mad, the future, and he wonders how it didn’t drive you mad as well.

—

France, Spain, Italy. They blend together in a haze of sunshine and lemon, as you, Nicola, and Julia travel the summer away. 

You refuse to think of Jamie, wherever he may be, but as July becomes August, you wonder what his mum is doing.

You’re on a first class flight back to London scrolling through Instagram, and you find yourself looking at her account. 

It’s private, but she followed you first a million years ago and you realize neither of you ever unfollowed the other. 

So you’re able to see how she’s filling her days.

She doesn’t always post Jamie’s face, but you see a familiar sleeve, or a Jamie-shaped shadow. You scroll back far enough to find a post from his twenty-seventh birthday which is a mistake because it’s a photo of Jamie blowing out candles with your arms wrapped around him.

You remember that moment, you were laughing and singing with his family while lying to yourself about how serious everything was.

But there’s no time to go down THAT rabbit trail so you close your phone and try to sleep through the rest of the flight.

—

Jamie is in hell. Training started a week ago, and it’s a shit show. It doesn’t help that he was never like this when you were with him. The first match of the season is coming up and he needs to get it the fuck together. There’s no way he’s getting in the starting lineup like this, not with the way he keeps glancing to the stands like you’ll be there.

He can’t help but think of you all the time, wherever you may be, and he tricks himself into seeing your face in every crowd.

He debates calling you (he never could delete your number), but he’s pretty sure he’s blocked so he doesn’t.

—

Jamie’s right, he doesn’t get started, but he has a good run in the second half. City win, obviously, but instead of going out with the lads Jamie gives them the slip and heads home.

Except he doesn’t exactly head straight home, he just sort of wanders around Manchester until he ends up in his favorite chicken shop.

He has exactly one day off of training so he figures one cheat meal won’t fuck him up more than he already is. It’s late, and he shouldn’t be eating at this hour, but he cannot give less of a fuck. He orders and goes to sit in the corner booth, only to find it occupied.

He thinks it’s you, for a moment, but you’re not in Manchester. He doesn’t know where you are, but that he knows for certain.

He’s wrong.

You’re looking up at him with a half-eaten plate of chips in front of you, and Jamie remembers every time you’ve looked at him like that.

“You have puppy eyes,” he said.

You scrunched your nose. “I know they’re puffy,” you said. “I was just crying in the car.”

“No, puppy eyes. I’d never say your eyes were fucking puffy, unless you were like, fucking dying or something.”

You had blushed and looked away, and Jamie knew he shouldn’t have said it. Knew he was getting in over his head.

Those eyes look more tired than he’s ever seen them, but you say, “Need a seat?” as you gesture to the place across from you.

Jamie slides in before he can think better of it. “Bit crowded in here,” he says, and you glance around to the empty tables.

“Wouldn’t have offered to share if it weren’t so hard to find a table,” you say.

He smiles, and you want to make him smile like that all the time.

“Watched the match,” you tell him. “You were great.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “I were shit, and you know it. Don’t know what the fuck was happening.”

“You weren’t shit. You always say that, and you’re never right.”

You’re not sure exactly what’s coming over you right now. You’re detached from your body, watching this scene unfold from above.

Jamie shakes his head. “Why do you always say shit like that? Why the fuck did you stay for so long? You knew-” He’s unable to finish, captivated by the pools of tears collecting in your eyes. He knows you’d rather die than let them fall, and he wishes he weren’t the cause.

“You still have the most beautiful eyes in the whole fuckin’ world,” he says softly.

You glare at him. “Fuck you for that,” you say. “And I stayed because I wanted to. And because I thought you’d change. You changed everything else for me, and then didn’t ask me to come with you. You just assumed that I wouldn’t want every part of you, remember? You didn’t listen when I told you how much I’d give up for you. And sure, it’s not very feminist of me, but I- I loved you. I’d do anything for the people I love. But you never fucking asked.”

You sigh. This conversation is a lot angrier than you wanted. You’re not angry. At least, not with Jamie. With yourself, sure. You take a bite of a chip to stave off the tears.

Jamie’s still processing. “You would’ve stayed longer?” he asks slowly.

You almost choke. “Yes, you absolute fucking idiot! I told you that! Your mum fucking told you, for Christ’s sake! Everyone fucking knew how much I loved you, and I knew you didn’t feel the same which is why I didn’t fight you when you left! I figured it was time for me to move on as well, so I did my absolute fucking best. But yeah, Jamie, I love you. Every part, too. Not just the things you think make you lovable.” You stand up. “I’m leaving. Goodbye, Jamie.”

As you brush past him, he catches your wrist. You look down at him with as much disdain as you can muster (it’s not a lot).

“Stay,” he whispers.

And you’re at a crossroads.

—

Three years later…

“Can’t believe we’re going back,” you groan as you tape a box.

“Coach asked,” Jamie calls from another room. “And you better not be lifting anything.”

“I’m not,” you shoot back as he enters the room. “That’s what you’re for. And anyway, the movers will be here in half an hour, so there won’t be much for me to do anyway.”

Jamie wraps his arms around your waist so he can pull you close and study your eyes. “You sure you’re alright going back to Richmond?”

You shrug as best you can. “I’m living the dream, babe. Not worried about it.”

And Jamie believes you.

He can’t believe much else, that’s for sure, not that you took him back. 

“One last chance, Jamie Tartt,” you had warned. “Fuck it up and I’m gone before you can blink.”

So he didn’t. Sure, no one’s perfect, but he’s trying. You both are. You’ve made it this far. Who’s to say it’ll crash and burn? 

Besides, he’s got a rock burning a hole in his pocket that says otherwise.

table of contents

[folkookie97]

❝ drunk confessions (1) ❞ — jjk

— SUMMARY: ❝Jungkook was intense. An emotional mess in your life even after the breakup. But you couldn't help but miss all his chaos during those endless late nights when you were cuddled up with another man.❞

— PAIRING: ex bf!jungkook x ex gf!!reader (soft bf!taehyung)

— TYPE: angst | ex lovers!au, non-idol!au

— WORD COUNT: 1,738

— WARNINGS: argument, curse words, alcohol, toxic!jungkook, jungkook is bad at feelings, emotional infidelity, mention of sex, mention of bf!taehyung, based on From the Dining Table (Harry Styles)

— NOTES: jungkook as toxic ex bf kills me every time i think about him.

— RELEASE DATE: July 15, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3, wattpad, spirit fanfics

Your eyelids couldn't close. Stinging sensations arose in the waterlines of your eyes with every frustrated attempt to reach the sleepy darkness. Your own body defied the human need to at least take a nap.

You were screwed. You knew better than anyone how endless the early hours of the morning could be.

Your nightly sleep had been a mess ever since storms of thoughts and reflections became a routine for your brain during resting hours. You couldn't relax when your mind insisted on filling you with confusion by recalling all the conflicts of the past few months.

And most importantly: recalling that damn phone call.

The last one you had with Jungkook.

You remembered all the details. It was possible to feel once again how strong your heartbeats was when the phone rang that night. Your hands, sweaty with sudden emotion, struggled to answer the call as quickly as possible, afraid that something you had been waiting for so long might accidentally end up in voicemail due to lack of swiftness.

The memory of how the phone fell silent for long seconds as soon as you called Jungkook's name. A part of you was afraid that the call hadn't been intentional, just something like a misdial.

You two hadn't spoken to each other for weeks, and maybe Jungkook wasn't even planning to call you that night.

Even if that night was very significant to you.

To relieve the flutter, you swallowed hard at the mere thought that your enthusiasm might have been in vain.

A sigh could be heard on the other line when Jungkook's name was mentioned once again.

"I can't do this anymore, (Y/N)."

The girl's heart skipped a beat for a moment, and you could swear a buzzing sound echoed through the room.

"What are you talking about?" You asked.

"Me and you. Us. Our relationship is so complicated. A real mess..." The boy sobbed. You could feel that his voice was so broken as your heart.

"Kookie... if this is about our last fight, I'm sorry. It was such a stupid reason. I know, but I..."

"FUCKING HELL!"

The male scream echoed through the device, startling you not just because of a thunderous volume but also because it was followed by Jungkook's laughter.

A sarcastic laughter.

Lack of emotional intelligence in arguments had always been a characteristic of Jungkook's personality. He was a chaos. A hurricane ready to destroy everything in its path.

And lately you've been hating that habit about him.

Jungkook's intensity made you fall in love with him two years ago. But it had also made our love being so messy and toxic. Turning sunny skies into deadly storms.

There was no longer a sweet relationship for you.

"Can you hear yourself? You're almost begging me. That's because I wanna leave you. It's so pathetic. You're so clingy." He said.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you checked the time on your phone's screen, the hard brightness hurting your vision.

"Jungkook, I don't wanna fight right now. It's only ten minutes until my birthday. I thought you were calling to wish me an early happy birthday or..."

"Or what?" Jungkook laughed, his sobbing merging with the bitterness of his laughter. "Did you think I wanted to apologize for that day?"

"You said you were sorry..." You reminded him, biting your lower lip to suppress the waterfall of tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I used to feel. But only until I drank these two whiskey bottles and turned me into a tearful wreck." The sound of glass shattering on the floor was heard. Your desire to ask if he hurted himself was almost bigger than the urgency to keep your crying unnoticed. "Do you know why I'm drinking on a Wednesday night?"

You refrained from answering. His question was almost rhetorical, a pure melancholic rambling of a drunken human being.

So dramatic like Jungkook always used to be.

"I was with Lori today," Jungkook's confession triggered a pain in your stomach. Your effort to not vomit at his words was utterly depressing. "We saw each other, had sex like we always do. She's good at what she does. She always rides my dick and also looks like a porn actress when she's on her knees giving me a amazing oral..."

Maybe Jungkook would laugh when your disguise fell. You thought he would pause his monologue to mock how your sobs were constant and how pathetic you seemed.

Or maybe he would keeping rambling until the pain of your broken heart became unbearable and your brain convinced you to end the call.

However the thought of Jungkook crying like you were doing had never crossed your mind. Not even for a single second of your life.

He was sobbing like a child who got hurt on the playground; helpless and seeking the comfort of some trusted adult.

Before you could filter the words, the question had already escaped your lips.

"Why are you crying?"

And realizing the chaos inside his mind, Jungkook laughed again amidst tears. A sorrowful laughter.

"Because she's not you, (Y/N)."

The girl widened her eyes. The tears turned crystalline and your pupils dilated as Jungkook's words caused stumbles in your heart.

What was he trying to say? How drunk was he to lay his feelings bare for the first time since the breakup?

The anticipation of a confession pained your mind. A variety of scenarios emerged every second.

"I love you so much, (Y/N). I love everything about you. And this feeling it's killing me because missing you hurts too much." He sighed. The sound of breaking glass resurfaced and you swallowed hard as you picturing that scene. "When Lori told me she saw you yesterday, I swear I was desperate to talk to you as soon as possible."

"Yesterday she was wearing my old shirt..." You interrupted feeling a intense burning in your throat. "That Guns N' Roses shirt that you bought me in our first month of dating."

"You left it here at home and your damn scent was still on it. I needed a way to overshadow it and I..."

"Fucked your coworker."

Jungkook was speechless for a while. No comforting words could deny the injustice of the situation. He knew that you didn't deserve to see Lori wearing that shirt that had once been so special for both of you.

You didn't deserve to suffer through any of it. You didn't deserve to shed your tears or be broken-hearted for someone so unworthy.

Jungkook knew that you didn't deserve to be destroyed by the chaos he brought into others' lives.

He loved you. But he didn't know how to make you happy. He didn't know if he could ever fix your heart.

Was he selfish for wanting to try get your sweet love back? Was it too late for you two?

"Jungkook, I need to hang up."

His heart instantly broke at your warning and the formality in your words.

"(Y/N), please," The boy begged with a trembling voice. "You need to listen to me. I've been holding back everything I feel for you for so long, I need..."

It made you furious. You could even cry with rage.

"You've been holding all this bullshit back for a long time? Then keep holding it back for a little while longer." The words came out harsher than intended but you weren't in the mood to regret it. For the second time that night you checked the time on your phone screen and wiped away the tears from your cheeks with your free hand. "It's already my birthday, Jungkook. You didn't even call me to apologize or wish me a happy birthday. You just wanted to hurt me. Hurt my heart. My feelings."

"My baby, I'm so sorry. Fuck. I swear I..."

Your classic pet name pushed you over the edge.

"I don't wanna talk to you today." You admitted. "I love you. I swear I fucking love you. I love you much more than I would like and than I should."

You sighed hearing Jungkook cry. You were definitely not used to the pain you felt when you heard him cry.

"But I'm tired Jungkook. I'm tired of loving you and I'm getting tired of you."

"I love you, (Y/N). I just wanna try to fix things. I'm trying, baby. I swear I'm trying."

"I know, Kookie." At least you really knew that. "But I don't wanna deal with this whirlwind of emotions that you've been hiding for years. Call me when you're sober if you truly love me and really wanna try to fix things."

And in that early morning, when the clock struck 12h02 AM, you had your last call with Jeon Jungkook.

Your request for him to return with real sobriety not happened. Hypotheses swam through your mind over the next few months. Did he regretted the brief expression of feelings? Were the love confessions and desperate crying just a delusion resulting from alcohol?

You couldn't know the true cause for Jungkook's ghosting but the choice not to seek the truth haunted you at night, when your head rested on the pillow and your eyes were unable to close.

"Darling, are you okay? Why are you crying?"

With a slight startle, you directed your attention to the male body beside you. The young man had his long fingers wrapped around your waist tracing caresses on your bare skin.

His lips were pressed into a thin line and his eyebrows furrowed in a countenance that indicated excessive worry. He looked a lot like the guy you used to love.

Actually the one you still loved.

The name Jungkook almost escaped you in a tearful whisper.

"Yes, Tae. I'm fine. It's just... just a nightmare."

The man soothe you with a sweet smile and pulled you into a hug. It was a square smile different from the typical bunny smile Jungkook had. However the image of your ex-boyfriend remained permanent in your mind as Taehyung caressed your hair. Your heart hurts with the contrast between your thoughts and the cruel reality.

Both of they were extremely different yet had similarities that made your stomach churn.

And as Taehyung tried to pull you into a deep sleep whispering lyrics of romantic songs in your ear, you wondered if Jungkook's name would show up on your caller ID someday again.

[hoenoredone]

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH – nanami kento

a/n: sorry for the inactivity, exams have been kicking my ass

contents: nanami is starting to get old. he used to be able to withstand nights of drinking until he passed out and the subsequent work day, but now the a/c gives him a cold. tags: sfw, enstablished relationship, married au, non sorcerer au, fem!reader, talks of snot and fever, unbelievably self indulgent.

unbelievable. un-believable. you knew something was wrong when nanami had made himself a cup of chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey the night before. he had told you he was just tired from work, but – realistically – who wants to have hot tea in the middle of july? he had been clearig his throat way too often before going to bed, and he looked like he was struggling to swallow whatever food you offered.

after years of marriage you knew better than to ask him about it, he'd only deny feeling unwell. so you do the next best thing: slip him a tablet for his sore throat with the usual vitamins he takes every night. he fell asleep almost instantly, his body already tired from fighting off the illness. he unintentionally woke you up at around 4am from blowing his nose a little too hard, causing him to cough into the tissue.

he struggled to fall asleep again after that, tossing and turning every couple of minutes, no doubt from not being able to breathe properly. it's in that precise moment (5:33am) when you decide that he's taking the day off tomorrow. he's an icredibly responsible worker, he has more than enough sick days accumulated to be able to use at least one.

you wake up before him – miraculously, considering how little sleep you got – and make him some breakfast as quietly as possible. you decided not to turn off his alarm clock because you knew he would not listen to you and simply rush straight to work if you had done that. so you opt to set the table and place the freshly squeezed orange and ginger juice next to his green tea and a bowl of honey-banana oatmeal.

you hear the familiar beeping of the alarm clock as you're pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and patiently wait for your husband to come into the kitchen. you must be lost in thought because you almost don't notie him until he rests his head on your shoulder and tries to stifle a cough.

"morning," he groggily says.

"sweetheart," you coo while turning to face him, "did you have trouble sleeping? i heard you coughing at some point. here," you place your coffee down on the counter and raise your hand to his forehead, "let me see."

you almost gasp at the heaviness of his eyelids and the unusual warmth of his forehead.

"kento, you look ill," and he knows you're serious, you never call him by his name.

"i feel fine," he tries, but he knows that it's useless. he doesn't feel too bad, just congested. and he has a headache. and his throat is killing him. he can power through.

"have some breakfast and go back to bed, i'll text your boss and bring you some medicine after," he can't even protest, the thought of having to get ready and go into that cold, cold office where his cubicle is inches away from the a/c sending chills down his spine. not like his protests would matter much, regardless, as you're already sprinting to his phone. so he sits down, alternates between sipping his tea and the juice you had made him (the ginger burns his throat but he forces himself to swallow). he tries to eat most of the oatmeal but his stomach just doesn't agree with him, so he leaves a little less than half of it in the bowl.

he's a good man, tidies up after himself even when oh so horribly sick, and goes back to bed. once you hear the rustling of the covers you know you've succeded. you exit the bathroom, a smidge of eye cream unblended on your cheek, and hand him a glass of water and some ibuprofen. you make sure he has enough tissues by the bed and leave him a bottle of cough syrup and a spoon on his nightstand. you tuck the comforter all the way up his chin and grab some clothes to get ready for work.

once you're ready you come back into the bedroom and almost decide to leave without giving him a kiss in fear of disturbing his rest. you opt against that, knowing how unusually whiny your husband gets when he's sick. so you place a gentle hand on his arm and leave a peck on his forehead.

"i'll try to be back for lunch," you whisper, "but if i don't make it there should be some leftovers in the fridge if you feel up to it."

he groans in response as you make your way to your shoe rack, a barely audible "love you" from him painting a smile on your lips as you quietly close the door.