#where i will attempt to just crash and burn for a few days

[sesshy380]

Back to the grindstone tomorrow 😭

Five more days of work, then heading downstate for Youmacon! (Yes, I am in countdown mode lol)

Still working on the other Ship Ask Meme that I am being self-indulgent on. Trying to have it finished before I go down. This one shouldn't take as long, since a lot of the questions relate to future chapters stuff and I am trying not to spoil anything. At the current moment, Atem and Bakura are barely tolerable of one another.

[bluemoonbun]

what if there was a yandere batfam x villain!mom!reader. More specifically, I'm thinking of this (Fem reader);

Reader is a (technically) small threat. They're well known, but they mostly go after the rich and police. Unfortunately, that describes everyone in/closely involved with the Batfamily. Attempts at capture are futile, however, since they seem to rival Bruce in contingency plans.

Eventually, Jason steps up to bat and tries to catch them. However, there's one thing that Jason picked up from Bruce; his type is crime.

You and Jason have Batman-and-Catwoman-esque chases throughout Gotham, Jason blaming your escape on you being too crafty while denying any help. You see Jason's scars and admit that you have a pretty bad one on your side, eventually showing it to him when you feel comfortable taking your clothes off. Jason has had to hide more hickeys, bite marks, and scratches on his back than anyone would hazard to guess.

One day, however, you disappear. The Batfam is relieved that you've finally stopped your reign of terror over Gotham, but Jason is worried.

The Batfam all go out for ice cream a few months later for something unrelated, when Jason catches sight of something familiar.

A scar winding up someone's side. A scar he's seen before. A scar that's stretched due to a bump.

Dick walks into his back when Jason freezes. Judging by the size, you've been pregnant for about as long as you've been off of the streets. So that's where you've been...

Why didn't you tell him? Did you think he didn't love you enough? Did he not show you enough times that he loved you? Did you think that it wouldn't work because he was working with Batman? He wasn't that close with him! He'd help you find a nice apartment in Crime Alley, or, hell, you could move in with him! He wasn't sure how good of a dad he'd be, but he'd try! Isn't that what parenting is about?

Oh god, he hasn't been around for so much of your pregnancy already. He needs to talk to you!

"...Jason. Earth to Jason Todd? Hello?" Dick says, waving his hand through the thoughts swirling in front of his eyes. Jason starts slightly as he remembers where he was. Damian begins walking towards you. Or rather, the ice cream store you were in front of.

While you were out of earshot, he saw as you looked at Damian. You smiled, probably asking where his parents are, because he gestured behind him. He watched as your smile fell into shock as your eyes landed on him, hand instinctively going to your stomach before you glanced at a nearby alleyway before looking back at him.

He took the hint. Now you're facing each other, unasked and uncountable questions floating between the both of you. Jason, however, asked the worst question possible in that moment.

"Is it mine?"

The slap was warranted, honestly.

The next few questions come more easily. You're around 24 weeks along, you've been living alone for the most part, you've obviously taken time off to avoid any injuries/toxic exposure to the baby, etc. Eventually, he asks why you never told him, and the reason was twofold. On one hand, telling him would've required doing some sort of crime for the batfamily to follow and him being the one that caught you, which you had known was debateable since he mentioned how Bruce and the Robins offered to tag along. On the other, the chance of everything crashing and burning because of this was too great. You were too willing to accept that it was truly just like what Batman and Catwoman had, something fun and fleeting but nothing deeper than that. You weren't going to risk your child because you felt loved.

Jason takes your hands and tells you his full legal name. At first you're confused, but he tells you more. He tells you how long he's been a vigilante, where he lives, even the code to his apartment. He doesn't see any of this as fleeting. This, to him, was a relationship that just needed a full push to become a "proper" one.

He places his hands and yours on your stomach.

"My name is Jason Peter Todd, I'm the vigilante Red Hood, son of Bruce Wayne, and... I'm gonna be a dad if you'll let me."

You smile and hug him, unable to talk around the lump in your throat.

"Jason...? What the fuck are you doing?" says Dick.

He turns around and realizes that the entire batfamily had heard him.

"So, she's pregnant with your child?" Damian glances around, trying to get another look at your belly.

"Of everyone I thought would get a villain pregnant... you weren't high on that list." Barbara chimes in.

"I'm gonna be a grandfather?" Bruce asks

---

So yeah, gist of it is that Jason gets Reader pregnant, Reader gets some information that Batman uses to justify keeping you in the manor, along with the half truth of "keeping appearances", since the tabloids would eat you alive if they caught evidence of a member of the Wayne family being a deadbeat dad, and over time, the family becomes more and more suffocating until your baby is born, in which they somehow make themselves a nuisance in child rearing.

Asks are welcome!

[sexy-monster-fucker]

It’s Easy to Tease

Erik Campbell x Reader NSFW

Summary: Reader is nervous to get her first piercing outside of her ear. Erik knows how to help her calm down.

CW: mentions of cheating and breakup, nipple piercing, perv!Erik, reader has tattoos, nipple play, pinching, biting, fingering, masturbation, oral m!receiving, cumming on chest, idiots in love

a/n: there are literally no gifs of him without words on them 😭😭 [update there’s all kinds now so thank you to the GIF creators of tiktok you have my heart!]

title track 🎶🩸

~~~

Your palms sweated.

Rhythmically smacking your hands against the old steering wheel in an attempt to calm yourself down. The tattoo shop to your right was illuminated in neon reds. Obscuring your ability to make out the interior. Only adding to your anxiety.

It’s not like you had never had something pierced. Your ears had more than one hole in them. Even having some tattoos in places easy to hide with clothing. Corporate America not being a fan of inked employees. But for some reason this made you a nervous wreck.

You were new to the area. Having moved far away from where you had resided with your ex partner. Finding them in bed with another woman when they were supposed to be at work. Ridiculous. And you would not stick around for it.

You suppose that’s what made you want to get the piercings. Always being fond of body altering, even when your ex had shot down the idea as fast as you mentioned it. It did not change your want, just the reality of doing it.

So yeah, fuck them. You were getting your nipples pierced.

Getting out and locking your car. Breathing deeply as you walked into the parlor. Obscenely high ceilings with possible the biggest ceiling fan you had ever seen. Skulls and skeleton memorabilia decorating the interior. Bathed in the bloodlike glow of lights on every wall. It was pretty sick.

“Can I help you?” A monotonous voice asked closer to you than you realized. Causing you to jump clean out of your skin. Black hair and a scruffy beard. Tattoos on every bit of skin, including his exposed chest. Leather jacket unzipped without a shirt underneath. Piercings in both ears, septum, and his nipples. His head was tilted slightly to the side as he waited for your response.

“Oh, um— yeah, I have an appointment,” you rubbed your hand up and down your arm. A little intimidated by the rather rugged and handsome young man before you. Blue eyes scanned down your body, making you blush. He nodded as he flipped through the pages of the book.

Faking like he did not know what you were here for. You were his only call ahead of the evening. Possibly the last client he would have for the day. Since his boss had up and abandoned him to run down to the bar. Classic. And you were cute. No denying the way his heartbeat escalated when he saw you. Only seeing the studs in your ears, no other piercings notable. Practically a piercing virgin. It made his cock throb a little.

“Y/N?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yep,” you faked a smile.

“Sick,” he said slamming the book closed and extending his hand out to you, “ ‘m Erik.”

You shook it. His grip was strong. Long fingers wrapping around your hand. Cool to the touch rings decorating his fingers. He hopped down off the stool and rounded the podium. Hands on his hips. Examining your body once again.

“Assuming you haven’t ever had anything like this done,” Erik said more as a statement then a question.

“I’ve got a few tattoos, but no piercings. Just my ears,” you gestured to the side of your face. Awkwardly grinning as you returned to holding your arms over your chest.

“Well you filled out all the paperwork online, but I’ll still give you the crash coarse,” he wiggled his fingers at you. Waving for you to follow him back to an empty room. Smelling similar to a dentist office from the strong sterile cleaner they used. Burning your nostrils a little.

“So I’ll have you lay back on this chair. I’ll have gloves and everything on. Make sure all the instruments are clean. All that good stuff. Just gonna need you to take that shirt off,” he spun around on his heel and pointed.

You felt awkward suddenly. Embarrassment flushing down your entire body. This guy you just met was going to see your bare chest. As if there was any other way to do this. It was different when you found him this attractive. Lips forced shut as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“If that’s a problem, you’ve come to the wrong place,” he smiled at you. Trying to joke with you, resulting in your head hanging a little lower. He rolled his eyes, “I’m just kidding. Will it make it better if I turn around and cover my eyes?”

Another joke. Flirtatious even. His hands going to cover his eyes as he turned his back to you. Catching a glimpse of his toothy grin before his back faced you.

You squinted at him. Corner of your mouth curving into an amused smirk. You scoffed, pulling the shirt over your head. Bare breasts on display. You knew you would be leaving here without a bra so what was even the purpose of wearing one. Arms hugging tightly against your lower stomach. Breasts resting against them. Trying your hardest to hide your body from him.

Erik looked over his shoulder, peaking through his fingers. Smiling widely at the sight of you. ‘Pretty tits’ he thought, almost allowing it to slip before he saw how nervous you really were. Hands and knees shaking. Eyes doed wide and eyebrows upturned. It was so sweet, yet heartbreaking.

“Go ahead and get comfy,” Erik gestured toward the chair that was barely angled up.

Hesitantly, you took your seat. Cold leather making you jump. Chills danced down your body at the contact. Nipples hardening along with it. Teeth grinding together for a moment as your eyes forced shut. Eyebrows furrowing, but trying to stay quiet. Trying to focus on anything else. Watching Erik rummage through supply drawers, placing individually wrapped things on the metal tray beside you.

Sweat began to glisten along your hairline. Furthering your dive into embarrassment. You were a grown woman, there was no reason for you to be this scared about a little piercing.

Erik returned with a sharpie in hand. Wiggling it between his fingers, “Gonna go ahead and mark where I’m gonna stick ya. Okay?”

You coyly nodded.

Pop of the cap had your heart pounding. His hand scooped under your breast. Pulling back and jumping at the contact. Like a startled wild animal. Erik rose back to his full height. Arms going limp at his sides. Head falling to the side as his eyes hooded. Blowing his breath out and shrugging.

“Okay. You are very clearly nervous,” he deadpanned. Pulling up the rolling chair he usually used for tattooing. Sitting on it backwards, his arms folded over the headrest. Chin resting against tattooed limbs, “Tell me what’s got you so high strung.”

Surprised by the empathy he showed you. Genuinely caring about your well being, something you would never expect from his crude exterior. Soft blue eyes scanned yours. Trying to calm your panicked state.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s… the not knowing? How bad it’s gonna hurt?” Words coming out more uncertain than you intended.

Erik chuckled. Head swiveling as he drummed the back of the chair. Nodding while racking his brain. A devious idea coming across it.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re in the hands of an expert,” he hooked his fingers around his jacket, pulling it apart so you could see his own pierced nipples better. Taking the time to check him out. Since he was offering and all.

“I’ll tell you what. I can show you about how bad it will hurt, but I need you to be okay with me touching you,” Erik grinned, “No more of that gasping and jumping shit.”

Truthfully, you wanted him to touch you. That was the problem. His hands invoked some high school level hormone within you. Causing your mouth to run dry and hands to shake. And of course it was a little inappropriate to be lusting after your piercer. But you did not care. He would probably end up jerking it to the thought of your tits later. The way his eyes kept raking over them, it’s not like he was hiding his attraction to you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Quivering breath blowing out of your lungs. You met his eyes, “So you can show me without piercing me?”

“Whatever I need to do to help you relax,” gaze softening. Hiding the mischief that swirled around his mind. Barely able to keep his eyes on you with how badly he wanted to massage your tits.

“Let’s do it,” you said with a stern nod.

“Hell yeah,” he held up a fist to you. Bumping knuckles with a smile. Pushing your back flush against the cold seat, eyes falling shut in preparation. Trying to allow your mind to go completely blank.

The sound of him kicking away the stool clued you in that he was standing above you. Looming with shallow breaths. Anticipation practically holding a blade against your throat. Threatening to end you right here.

Your body jerked when he ran his fingers up your bare belly. Softly analyzing your skin with his digits. Smiling to himself at the way your eyebrows contorted and your lips parted. Taking in a deeper breath.

“Real easy,” his voice was low, “Just want to make you comfortable.”

Voice soothing your nerves. Fanning over your body with a blanket of calm and collection. It felt good. Tingling along your nerve endings.

His hand began traveling up. Finding the mound of your breast. Running his fingers along it, finding your hardened nipple. His tongue came out to wet his bottom lip. Having to force some kind of restraint. Thumb swiping over the bulb.

The whine that escaped you would have been unnoticeable to anyone else. But not Erik. Not when he was this close to you. Not when you sounded that pretty just from barely touching you. Not when the head of his cock was pressing against his zipper and growing more uncomfortable by the minute with you.

“Feels good?” a hint of tease laced his question.

“Mmhmp,” you nodded unable to form a cognitive sentence.

A soft blow of his breath resembled an endearing laugh. Deciding now was a good time to test your endurance. Finding your sensitive bulb between his pointer and thumb. Pinching it with a heft of force. Your mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, brows pinching together at the feeling. Electricity shot through you from where his fingers touched you. Unable to stop the moan that erupted from your chest.

Erik’s eyes widened. Realizing he had found his holy grail. Twisting your nipple experimentally. Watching the way you arched your head back, throat on display for him. Pressing your chest further into his touch. He smiled. Cock beginning to throb from the symphony you performed for him.

“So, that’s what it’ll feel like?” you were breathless. Turned on beyond belief. Wanting your newly met grunge friend to rip your clothes off and fuck you on the chair.

“Not quite, just a little test to make sure you weren’t gonna freak on me,” Erik grinned once more. Barely able to hide his excitement. Air not filling his lungs the way they needed. Body too busy thinking about the blood rushing to his crotch.

His hand tucked your hair behind your ear, “You did good.” Praising you with a low tone. Smile clear from how he sounded. You barely opened your eyes to look at him, embarrassment taking over. Groaning as they fell closed once more, head resting strongly against the leather. Your face the brightest shade it had been all night.

Erik framed your breast in his hand. Fingertips pressing into the soft flesh. He swallowed, leaning forward slowly. Like he was trying to sneak up on you. Parting his lips to wrap around your nipple. Meeting it with a soft kiss, tongue swirling around the pebble. Scruff slightly scratching your tender tit.

You struggled to moan his name. Gasping like a fish out of water. Tingling all the way down to your core. Skillful mouth working your sensitive tit. Sucking against it, unable to stop himself from leaving a little purple mark right next to it. Raking his tongue around the mound, ending with your nipple caught between his teeth. Cold septum ring tickling the top of your breast. His mouth completely flush with your chest.

Your hand tangled in his black locks. Holding him firm to you. Nails scratching his scalp as you whined and moaned with each swipe of tongue. Stimulating you perfectly.

Suddenly biting down on your nipple harder than before.

Your body bucked in response. Calling out to him at the pain you felt. Minimal. But a vast difference from the pleasure he had previously been inflicting.

“Shhh. Shhh, you’re okay. Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Erik’s hand traveled down your body. Single handily undoing your button and zipper. Sliding his hand past your panties. Easily gliding along your slick folds. Smiling against your skin at the feeling of your arousal, “I just wanna help you relax.”

His voice was drunk. Slurring with his own arousal. Completely thinking with his dick. Fingers circling your wet clit for a moment. Earning him a broken moan. Dipping his fingers in afterward. Welcomed by your needy walls. Curling perfectly inside you.

You nodded, relaxing all your forcibly flexed muscles. Staring up at the ceiling through hooded eyes. Heart ramming itself into your ribcage. Struggling to regulate normal breathing. He was good. Already having you seeing stars with his fingers.

Erik sucked off your boob with a pop. Movement catching your attention. Leaning your head forward to meet his eyes. His own pupils blown out. Eclipsing the beautiful blue iris. Catching his own breath, scanning your facial expression. You were beautiful. Cheeks flushed and eyes bloodshot. He was enamored by the way you looked at him. Wanting nothing more than to continue to please you. To have you all to himself.

His free hand cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing along it. Capturing your lips in a kiss. Hungry. Needy. Tongue prying your lips apart. Needing to taste you. Kissing you like you would be the last thing he ever had. Heads leaned to the sides to deepen the kiss.

Thumb finding its place on your aching nub. Circling it with a firm pressure. Shooting mind numbing ecstasy through you with each round. Rolling your hips against his fingers. Chasing your high.

Erik smiled as he continued kissing you. Hand leaving your face and traveling down to the ignored breast. Groping the plump skin.

You could feel your worries slipping away. Losing yourself to pleasure. Not even caring if you got the piercing now. Just wanting his hands on your body. Your hands cupped his cheeks. Scruff tickling your palms.

His cock was throbbing. Twitching at each moan and soft spasm of your walls around his fingers. Craving friction.

You softly bit your teeth into his lip. Tugging at it slowly. Erik sighed with half breaths in response. Cascading his lips down the side of your face, your jaw, and ending on your pulse. Sucking into your throat. You whined at the feeling. Feeling the knot in your lower abdomen tighten.

“Erik—“

“Yeah, baby?” the petname coming off so casual. Barely knowing each other’s first names.

“I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna—“

It excited him. Heart racing in his chest. Swallowing hard before pulling back to watch your face. Icy eyes blinking repetitively. Trying to focus his vision. Hardly able to think straight. Adding some pressure against your clit, wanting to force you over the edge. His brows contorted in anticipation.

You came unraveled. Hips arching upward as you gripped the leather and his bicep. Moaning louder than you ever had. All inhibitions washing away with your orgasm. Pulsing tightly around his digits. White hot bliss taking over your body.

“That’s it,” Erik cooed breathlessly.

His jaw flexed at the feeling of you. Knowing more than anything he wanted to feel how you would grasp his cock. Bury it so deep inside you that his dick ring grazed your cervix. He could not take it anymore. Slowly pulling his fingers from you. Wincing at the loss. Eyes admiring how they were coated in your release. Standing fully before you, clothed erection at eye level with you. Other hand undoing his belt and zipper.

Halting.

“Do you mind?” coming out as a run-on sentence. Desperate and airy. His want clear. Gesturing toward his groin before continuing.

“Please,” you sighed.

Erik groaned. Releasing his member. Flopping over his fly. Light reflecting the silver ring at his tip. Handful of veins running along his length. Swollen with how he had been holding back. It was hot. Making your pussy clench once more.

Long digits wrapped around himself. Making sure to use the hand that had your own orgasm on it. Pumping up and down his length with a twist of his wrist. Tip beading with pre-cum. Pretty little moans fell from him. Hooded eyes staring at your face as he jacked himself. Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat. Taking quick breaths.

You were unable to resist. Throwing caution to the wind and stopping his wrist. Doeing your eyes up at him to ask permission. He smiled as his chest heaved. Nodding without a word. Readjusting your body so that he was easier to reach. Licking along his length and sticking your tongue between the ring in his tip. Erik’s shoulders shuttered. Leaning his head back displaying his throat.

You took the head between your lips. Cold metal resting on your tongue. Swirling your tongue around it. Erik’s fingers threaded through your hair, beginning to guide you up and down his length. Groaning when you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking harder on him. Piercing scratching the back of your throat when your nose met his base. Soft curly hairs decorating it.

He was close. Not having had someone go down on him in a while. Especially someone who was practically throwing herself at him. Or ever at his job. It made this all so much more scandalous. Rebellious. Almost wishing his boss would return and find you like this. Mouth full of cock. Just to disgust him. The fucker deserved it.

“Can I cum on your tits?”

You nodded. Continuing up and down his length until you felt him start to twitch. His hand tugging at your hair to pull you off. Sucking off with a loud pop. Taking position so that he could jerk off onto your chest. Erik quickly wrapped his hand around himself. Quickly stroking, “They’re— you’ve got— pretty fucking tits… goddammit, they’ll be even prettier when I— ugh—“

Hot ropes of thick cum shot across your chest. Moaning with a tight throat as he painted your bare breasts. Some of his cum frothing around the tip, gliding down the ring in his tip. It felt good on your chest. Dripping along your nipples. You scooped some up with a finger, pushing it between your lips. Tasting his salty aftermath. It made Erik shoot out one last time. Hard. Strained.

Erik ran a hand through his hair. Smiling from ear to ear. His hand pinching your chin so that he could kiss you again. Unable to stop giggling with glee. Having had so much fun with you. His hand grabbing your breast again, smearing his release all over your skin. Filling his lungs as he rested his forehead against yours. Kissing you again.

“Better?”

“Definitely,” you giggled. Still a little hazy from what had just transpired. Not expecting something like this to happen tonight. Happy it did.

“Good. I’ll get you cleaned up,” Erik walked away to get some disinfectant wipes. Sweetly getting his jizz off your chest. Making sure to be gentle on the spots where he had left marks. Throwing the towelette away.

“Does this count as my tip?” Erik joked. Cocky grin painting his face. Eyes squinted upward with how wide he was smiling.

You scoffed. Rolling your eyes at the statement. He was funny. Definitely the older brother type. You liked him. Wanted to know more about him. As if you had not just had his dick in your mouth.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you admitted. Face flushing as the words left your mouth. Watching the gears turn in his head with your words. Cocking a hand on his hip, head double taking.

“You think I’m cute?” Erik questioned. Almost as if he did not believe the words. Faming cockiness to hide his insecurity.

“Well… yeah,” you shrugged. Scrunching your face, slightly cringing at the way you said it.

“Yeah? You’re cuter,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Burning along your already heated skin. Biting your lip to try and hide how hard you were smiling uncontrollably.

“So,” Erik popped a black elastic glove on his hand, “We gonna pierce these perfect tits or what?”

You chuckled. Leaning back with your arms at your sides. Calm. Collected. Prepared for the pinch of the needle. Going through the motions with your new sweetheart. Honestly, you were scared for nothing. Yes, it hurt, but about as bad as your ears had.

Erik was gentle with you. Making sure it was all explained and done properly. Sometimes he did not care if a customer was an asshole. Allowing himself to be more lax. But with you, he wanted it done right. And he was right, your breasts looked fucking spectacular with the piercings in them.

You hopped off the chair and put your shirt back on. Loving the way the piercings looked through your shirt. Walking up front with Erik. He explained how long the healing process would take and things to avoid. You got your debit card out of your pocket preparing to pay when he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” Erik shrugged.

“Oh, come on. I’ve gotta pay you,” you insisted.

“Just let me take you on a real date and we can consider it even,” he smiled.

Your cheeks blushed. Really, that sounded like he doing you a double service. But who were you to complain? You’d make sure to repay him in a way you knew he would like.

Erik decided to lock up. If his boss was allowed to call it quits, he was too. Especially when the promise of spending the entire night with you was at hand.

You waited outside as he turned everything off. Watching each light click off until he was out front locking the door. Swirling the keys around his finger as he winked at you. Joining you right outside the door.

“Well, did it hurt?” sing song voice questioned you. Smiling at you on the poorly lit sidewalk.

“Honestly? I can’t remember,” you laughed. You were too caught up looking at him. And remembering how good he made you feel.

“Good,” Erik wrapped an arm around you, “Guess that means you don’t want to kill me.”

“Of course not,” you giggled.

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

“I’d love to.”

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I’m shocked by the lack of fanfiction for Erik on tumblr. My TikTok fead has been eating him alive! As always, my inbox is always open! Comments and Reblogs are appreciated //

{tags}

@zroberts13 ~ @anniebeemine ~ @beanzwritez ~ @chirioleos ~ @chaoticluminaryperfection ~ @allyssoon ~ @gee72sstuff ~ @ekavamonfort ~ @starrthemushroom ~ @chugjugg ~ @anxi-tea-please ~ @megangovier ~ @kai-komaeda ~ @mythicalcowboyatheart ~ @heyimalex1513 ~ @devilslittlehelper ~ @p00kiepants ~

[the-life-of-stella]

The Tempi Train Tragedy and the Ongoing Cover-Up

"I have no oxygen."

On February 28, 2023, Greece experienced the tragic train accident in Tempi, which left 57 dead and dozens injured, causing deep sorrow and outrage in Greek society. Two trains—one passenger train carrying citizens and one freight train carrying goods—ended up traveling on the same railway track in opposite directions. After the violent collision, a massive explosion followed, raising numerous questions. Immediately after the accident, hasty actions were observed that altered the crime scene. Specifically, excavation and backfilling of the collision site were carried out before all necessary evidence had been collected.

According to experts, these actions significantly hindered the judicial investigation in uncovering the truth. In a country that lacks funds for photocopy paper in schools and where it takes years to fix a pothole in a road, on the night of the accident, 700,000 euros were found and orders were given for the immediate planning and execution of the site’s cleanup and backfilling.

The very next morning, the entire political leadership of Greece, accompanied by the President of the Republic, rushed to the accident site. Suspicion arose from the Prime Minister's statement just a few hours after the tragedy, attributing the accident to "human error." The victims' families have spoken about the presence of flammable materials on the freight train, which caused the deadly explosion. These materials were not listed in the official cargo records of the train.

Three weeks after the incident, the Prime Minister dismissed the allegations as "conspiracy theories," insisting that the explosion was caused by the train's brake oil. Key witnesses to the incident were killed in car accidents just days after the crash. Additionally, video footage of the freight train's loading process mysteriously disappeared, with no logical explanation provided. From the very first day, audio recordings of conversations between stationmasters were made public; however, it was later revealed that they had been edited, with the apparent goal of misleading public opinion and reinforcing the narrative that human error was the primary cause of the collision. Subsequent revelations have brought to light strong indications of attempts to cover up the real causes of the explosion, those truly responsible for the tragedy, and the deep-rooted corruption within Greece.

A recent report by an expert that surfaced in the media suggests that the explosion was caused by the presence of flammable substances, excluding brake oil as the cause, since it would not have been capable of producing such a massive blast. The explosion is believed to have been triggered by chemical fuel adulterants. Recorded emergency calls made by victims to 112—activated by the automatic collision mechanism—reveal that survivors of the crash were crying out that they could not breathe. The recorded distress calls confirm the presence of oxygen depletion due to the fire. The victims survived the collision but were burned alive.

According to the victims' families, political mechanisms are deliberately delaying legal proceedings, keeping case files buried in bureaucratic drawers and obstructing their fight for justice. As if all this were not enough, the son of the prosecutor handling the Tempi case has been missing for three weeks. Recent reports suggest that the prosecutor has stepped down from the case. Public outrage continues to grow, fueled by the widespread belief that a deliberate cover-up is taking place.

The families of the victims, railway workers, and society at large demand transparency. The victims' families, through their association, are calling for an independent judicial process in Greece. Today, across Greece, without political banners or affiliations, people are gathering under one slogan—the last words of those who burned alive:

"I have no oxygen."

#tempi #tempi_crime

[rafesteddy]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔽𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛’𝚜𝙶𝙵𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

*part of the “Sorry, Top” AU — writen to be read alone.

warnings: jealous!rafe, cheating, swearing, drinking, heavy angst, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, dark!reader, dark!rafe, ownership “you’re mine, etc.”, pet names.

📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! This was not a kinkmas ask, but I made it one 😋 The premise is that you are dating Topper but hook up with Rafe secretly. You and Rafe had agreed that you mean nothing to each other, using one another to get off only, but the more time he spends with you, the more his feelings have grown. You have no idea because he’s so adamant about the fact that he’s using you. So, how would you know? Topper let Rafe know that the two of you had finally had sex, and between that and seeing you together at the Island Club Christmas party, he’s about ready to crash out.

The Island Club glimmers like a holiday movie brought to life—soft, candy colored lights curling around every banister, beautiful decorations meticulously placed.

Rafe barely notices the crowd around him—people he hasn’t seen in months. The hum and laughter surrounding him blends together when he sees you from across the room.

His blue eyes are sharp and burning with a feeling that he’s never felt before… Jealousy. Then again, maybe he has; maybe it was there all along.

Rafe lifts his whiskey to his lips, sipping slowly as he stands with his friends. He smiles and nods occasionally as he stares at you from a distance. His unease and anxiety mounts with each look you give Topper and every sweet nothing he whispers in your ear.

He can’t help but think how beautiful you look tonight. So good that it hurts.

He’ll never get to look at you like this—like him. Topper has it all. And what does he get? Stolen glances, late-night whispered conversation, quick passes in the hallway on your way to class, but that’s what he had wanted.

Rafe thought about it once. A few night back, when you were snuggled up in bed with Top, watching a movie. He thought about taking you on a date. A real date. Sitting across from him, dressed up just like you are now.

It didn’t help that he and Top had talked the day before, the two of you finally taking your relationship to the next level. The thought of you having sex with him—doing the shit that the two of you do together made Rafe physically ill.

He was confident in the way he made you feel. There was no denying that he made you feel good—made you feel something that would make walking away from your entanglement with him difficult. But what if… What if Topper was better? What if you no longer needed the only thing Rafe was good for? What if you didn’t want him?

What if he lost you?

The fact that he told you ‘you meant nothing to him’ haunts him like nothing else has, and the more he listened to you talk, the more he learned about you, and the more time he spent with you alone when Top wasn’t looking, the more the lines between “I don’t care” and “I care more than I should” blurred.

He had gotten so used to your company—the idea of you going on to live a life without him, to be done with him completely, and for Top to get that was suffocating.

Rafe’s nostrils flare, jaw tense, teeth gritted. He grips his glass, tossing back the rest of his liquor.

He shuffles toward the bar, nodding toward the bartender, pretending not to know exactly where he was placing himself—right next to you. “Top,” Rafe smiles, greeting his friend, pulling him in for a friendly hug, ignoring you as long as possible in an attempt to make you feel as desperate for his attention as he was fiending for yours.

His stomach churns as he watches you wrap your manicured fingers around Topper's tie, fixing the knot; his presence, not even felt by you. He imagines why you’re fixing it in the first place, picturing the two of you hooking up in the bathroom stall or the car before you walked in. He swallows thickly, feeling the pressure of his anxiety weighing on his chest. Rafe clears his throat in one last attempt to get your attention, too proud to fight for it any other way in front of Topper.

“Oh. Hey, Rafe,” you smile when you turn around, looking into his eyes. His usual swagger is gone, a flicker of something new in its place that you can't quite place. He takes a little breath, looking down at you in your party dress, eyes beating shut as he lands on your hips, seeing Topper's hand hooked around your waist.

Rafe bites his lips, holding back everything; next to impossible considering how beautiful you look tonight. His praise, right on the tip of his tongue, along with the words he can’t say…

“Are you thirsty, babe?” Topper asks as he tucks himself into your neck. The warmth of his whisper tickling skin, making you turn into him even more.

The bartender sets a drink in front of Rafe, and he shoots in back like a shot, knocking his gold ring against the bar top for another before he can even speak, wincing from the burn of the booze.

“Are you okay?” You ask gently.

Rafe rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth—anything but—but how can he let you know that when the two of you had been nothing but a dirty secret. The man labeling you as nothing more than a means to get himself off… You were supposed to mean nothing to him, but at this moment, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Talk to you two later, yeah?” He rasps, looking out into the party, so deep in his emotions that he can’t even look at you to deliver those six parting words.

He grabs his drink off the counter, strolling back to where he came. Your eyes follow him; Rafe, not going far. And unless he came from somewhere else, there’s no way he didn’t see you before.

Conversation plays around him as he stews, his frustration boiling under the surface, threatening to bubble over any second if he sees much more.

His cold heart breaks as he notices how Topper looks at you now. It’s different—a new level of intimacy in his touch that wasn’t there before.

Rafe throws his gaze to the floor, battling with his irrational mind that’s screaming that “no one gets to look at you like that but him,” clearly, that is not the case considering that man is your boyfriend, not him… Those thoughts brew again, “no one should get pleasure or give you pleasure but him…” Not even the man you have been with for months… He knows he sounds insane, but he can’t help it, not when it comes to you. Rafe rolls out his neck, taking a moment to rein himself in.

Everything around him gets a little louder, the conversations he’s been zoned out on filling his ears— the swell of Christmas music surging around him. He takes a deep breath, pushing it out slowly, trying to keep himself from falling apart.

No strings, no feelings, nothingness… that is what he’s supposed to feel when it comes to you.

So why is he digging his phone out of his pocket? Why is he punching his thumbs against the keys, trying to come up with the right thing to say? Why is he fighting off tears for anyone, let alone his best friend’s girlfriend?

This had become far more than just a simple hook-up—the only question is, how long had he been lying to himself?

Rafe nervously brushes his fingers through his hair, staring at the text again before pushing send. He swallows hard, forcing himself to look away, not wanting to see your face when you get it, nervous that your reaction will be anything less than what he’s hoping for.

Rafe: I didn’t think you were gonna come.

You: Hey Rafe. Yeah. Topper wanted me to meet his parents.

Rafe tosses his head back to the ceiling, trying to shut off his mind as he grapples with that thought. You're taking another step forward with Top—just another step away from him.

You: Seriously. Are you okay?

Rafe gets the notification, looking down at his phone. His eyebrows shoot up as he reads your words like he’s trying to translate a language he doesn’t know, scoffing and laughing.

Am I okay? No, I’m not fucking okay. He thinks to himself. He looks over at you and Topper, and for the first time, you truly see it.

Rafe Cameron is jealous…

Rafe: Meet me outside. We need to talk.

You read and reread the message, half-hiding your phone from your boyfriend as your heart races in your chest.

Rafe’s phone is already out, staring at the screen as you type up a message, watching as you shove your phone back in your purse.

You: I can’t

Rafe stares at the message in disbelief again. You weren’t in a relationship… He didn’t get to demand your attention, so he had to ask. And you rejected him. The refusal made his chest tighten, pulse hammering in his head, making him feel like he could crawl out of his skin.

What the hell changed? Sure, you had been together in secret, but the hesitation was always just foreplay—just a part of the back-and-forth between you, building the tension you both knew would inevitably break.

This was different… This had nothing to do with sex for him. And the rejection, you meant it. The knife drove into his gut, twisting when you smiled up at Topper.

And in that moment, he truly felt like the words the two of you had exchanged were true.

He felt like nothing to you.

The party roared around him as Rafe watched, not focusing on anything but you. Rafe’s phone weighed heavy in his pocket. The urge to send you another message, demanding you meet up with him was all too strong. Rafe’s night was a nightmare—as he sat and watching a picture of what he could have had if he had been honest with himself from the start.

“Kelc,” Rafe mumbles between sips of liquor as he watches you shift your drink over to Top, whispering in his ear, putting two and two together, assuming you would go to the bathroom. “Top wanted to talk to you, man. Sorry, I forgot,” he drones as he nods toward the bar, buying himself some extra time. To Rafe’s relief, you slip away, and he doesn’t think… he just moves.

Rafe follows you fast, weaving through the thick crowd as you step into the bathroom, a hoard of women filing in behind you, leaving no hope for him to sneak in. He rests his back against the wall, looking both ways down the long hall, coming up with a plan.

He lifts his phone and types a new message, almost positive that, given the situation, you would see right through it, willing to take the risk nonetheless.

Rafe: Hey babe its Topper my phone died. We’re on the terrace smoking a cigar. You know how to get out here?

He walks down the hall, shifting his eyes before entering the billiards room. Rafe leaves the door cracked, lights off; ready to pull you inside.

You: Yeah. I’m just walking out of the bathroom now. Do I go to the left?

Rafe: Yeah babe

“Rafe!” You gasp as he pulls you into the darkness. He doesn’t let go, his big hands firmly locked on your arms.

“We need to talk,” Rafe breathes, his voice low and tight. The air between the two of you is thick. You swallow the lump in your throat, catching his quick breathing.

“Rafe, c’mon,” you whine. “Not here.” You try to step away, but the hold on your arm gets tighter.

“Why not?” He snaps as he cuts you off, drawing back enough to look into your eyes. “You barely looked at me all night. You turned me down when I texted you-”

“This isn’t the time, okay?”

“Then when is? Huh?” Rafe’s voice rises with yours. He grits his teeth, not wanting to get found before he can tell you how he feels, reaching out to shut the door before coming at you again.

“I’m here with Topper’s family. You can’t just drag me in a room and fuck me,” you hiss as you step in his face.

Rafe’s eyes widen in disbelief as he tries to think of the right words. Hating himself for treating you so awful that the only logical explanation you had that he would haul you back here was to get his dick wet.

“I have a life outside of hooking up with you, Rafe, and you’re trying to ruin it because you’re jealous.”

Rafe buries his head in his trembling hands, trying not to lose his mind. “I can’t… Shit. I-I can’t. Just.. Fuck-”

Your eyebrows pinch together, not understanding a word he’s saying as he rambles complete nonsense. “What the fuck are you saying, Rafe?”

“Cut me some fuckin’ slack. Alright?” He snaps as he steps in your face, getting angrier as you question his outburst, the words getting tangled on his tongue.

You look up at him, your face painted in confusion and annoyance as he looks down at you in desperation and frustration. “Take a breath and tell me what you want to say, Rafe. I’m not going to do this with you right now.”

Rafe rests his hands on his hips, drawing a deep jagged breath as he contemplates just keeping this shit to himself. He got himself in this mess… But he can’t let it go.

He blows his air past his trembling lips and moves toward you, grabbing your hands.

“Rafe seriously-”

“I can’t keep pretending that you mean nothing to me… Okay?” He stops you. “Because you do. You mean a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen on his, lips parting as you draw a shallow breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Just listen to me,” he pleads.

“I’ve gotta go, Rafe,” You whisper.

“What?” He asks, as the emotions he’s feeling clings to his words. “Why do you have to leave?

“You’re unbelievable…”

“How?”

You let out a growl of frusteration, pushing him back before banging your fists against his chest when he come right back in again.“Because I know you don’t mean it, Rafe. I know what you want from me. I know what I mean to you. Fucking nothing… I know what you want to do to me in here and why you drug out of the party in the first place. And I know that if I give in and let my guard down, that’s the moment you’ll let me know that you were fuckin’ with me. Playing mind games on me because ‘how could I possibly mean anything to you’? ‘I’m such a slut’, and ‘I wanted your dick so bad I believed you’.”

“You think that little of me?” He asks as his voice breaks.

“Why wouldn't I, Rafe?” You counter.

“So you don’t feel anything for me? Nothing at all?” He asks. “Tell me all those times we hooked up was just that…”

”Rafe, we agreed that we meant nothing to each other.”

“That's bullshit.”

“What do you want from me, Rafe? You curious about yesterday? That shit eatin’ you up inside? I know you only care about one thing. The sex was fuckin’ awful. Okay? It sucked just like you said it would. You were right. Alright? Can I just fuckin’ go?”

“No! Just stop. Just—” Rafe pinches his eyes shut, holding up his hands in defeat, his physical reaction to your words making your nerves rise. “That’s not the only thing I care about…”

“You’re saying this shit because Topper and I fucked. Now you’re jealous… You’re so fuckin’ predictable it’s nauseating,” you mumble as you grab your purse, heading toward the door.

“You’re right… I’m jealous. But that’s not the only reason I brought you in here.” Rafe stops you, huffing a frustrated breath. “I like you, sweetheart. You don’t have to believe me. I don’t blame you.”

“Right? So, let me go,” you clip as you yank your arm away, storming toward the door.

“So that's it…”

“What more do you want from me?” You scoff.

He laughs manically, at his witts end, looking back at you completely and utterly defeated. He sucks his teeth and shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Well, princess. Have fun with your boyfriend. I don't mean shit to you… Saw that one comin’. I deserve that. At the end of the day, we still get to fuck. Right?” He asks as he turns around, his voice on the verge of tears. “Right?” He shouts when you don’t answer. “I assume that that’s all I mean to you, too. Clearly.” Rafe mumbles. “See you back on campus.”

“Rafe…”

He hangs his head and turns around, his reflective eyes reaching yours, glossed with his emotion, threatening to give way. ”What?”

“It’s just-” you speak hesitantly. “I like you… Why the hell else would I keep risking my relationship for you? Why wouldn’t I have said something to Topper that first night? You were so fuckin’ adamant that I meant nothing that I believed it.”

“If you liked me, why wouldn’t you just leave him?”

“Because, Rafe,” you groan as your shoulders slump. “Topper and I… It’s fine. It’s not a bad relationship—I don’t know.”

“Tell me,” he mumbles as your words get caught up in a deep sigh.

”I just didn’t want to lose what little of you I had if I told you how I felt. I meant nothing to you… But I still got something, and that was enough-” Rafe surges forward, stealing your words in a desperate kiss. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer, shattering the tension. You moan against his lips as Rafe pushes you against the pool table, lifting you on top.

“You should have told me?” He breathes between kisses.

You tug his hair by the root in frustration, making him groan against your lips. “So you could throw it back in my face?” You whimper.

”I wouldn’t have done that,” he whispers as his lips brush against yours. “I’m sorry…”

You tug down the straps of your party dress, pulling down the front as Rafe hikes up your skirt, yanking your panties down your thighs between hungry kisses.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers against your lips, using a softness he’s never used before, his voice rough and laced with need. You whimper against his lips as you tug at his belt and his button, splaying his zipper as your thighs widen on the pool table.

Rafe grabs your bare thighs, holding you apart as his lips ghost over the top of yours. “I like you… I swear. You gotta believe me. I’m tellin’ him tonight. Alright?” Rafe asks as he lowers his pants and his boxers, closing the gap between the two of you. “Can’t watch that shit anymore. I need you. You two are done.”

Shivers fall down your spine at his admittance and the weight of his words. “Rafe…” You moan as his fingers trace slowly up your bare leg, disappearing between your thighs.

“Just say ‘okay’,” he hums. “I don’t even care if you’re lyin’ to me right now. Just tell me that you’re leavin’ him,” he mumbles as his fingers trace through your slick folds, making you gasp. “And that you’re mine,” he hums, pushing two fingers inside. He groans at the feeling of your tight cunt pulling him in, his eyes falling low, looking at the lust in your eyes.

“I’m yours,” you whisper as his fingers curl inside you. Making your head fall back as he works them at the perfect pace. His lips connect with your neck, sucking down on your sweet spot. “I’m not lying to you,” you whisper weakly, feeling him breathe a sigh of relief against your neck.

“You’re not lying to me?” He asks as he slips his fingers out of your pussy, pushing them through your lips. You suck around his big digits, looking at him with soft mumbling a muffled ‘no.’ Rafe hooks his hand around your neck, lowering you back on the table. “Say it, princess,” he rasps as he loops his big biceps around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the table.

“I’m not lying, Rafe,” you whisper as he fists his cock, looking down at you, swearing he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“My girl,” he mumbles as he runs his fat tips through your arousal, watching you bite down on your lip—eyes rolling back in your head. “All mine.” Your eyes rest on Rafe again as he focuses on the place where you connect, pushing in slow enough to let you feel all of him. His big hands find your hips, pitching his hips, driving his cock as deep as he can go.

”Fuck, Rafe,” you cry as you shift your hips slightly, but he holds you in place. Your back arches off the tables, hands clawing for something to hold onto. Rafe circles his hips making a moan rip from your through stars dancing in your eyes. “So fucking good,” you whimper.

“That’s my girl. Shit… You like that, huh?” He asks smugly. You bite your lip and nod fast. “Pussy was made for me and only me.” Rafe drags his thick cock out to the tip before, fucking back in.

He looks at you underneath him, praying you’re telling him the truth, hoping that all the shit you were feeding him wasn’t a lie. Your hands wrap around his wrists clutching your hips, the contact grounding him, the look in your eyes telling him you were all his. Rafe’s emotion washes over him like a wave, desperate for your lips on his and his cock sheathed deep.

He reaches down, catching his hand around the back of your neck before drawing you close. His lips crash against yours, rough and messy, mirroring his thrusts as he pounds into your pussy. The connection, your taste, the feeling of your warmth around him, and the softness of your skin was everything and more. Every time he was inside, you felt like heaven; he never imagined it could feel any better than that, but fuck was he wrong.

You hitch your hands around his neck, rolling your body to meet his thrusts, the slick sounds of your wetness and panting breaths filling the space around you. Rafe grunt and groans, wanting to fill you full, fuck you so dumb you’d forget that you had ever let Topper go all the way. But for you, those thoughts were long gone.

“Rafe, just like that,” you whimper as he reaches down, finding your puffy clit, circling his fingers fast as he feels your body about to give way.

“Never want you to say anyone else's name again,” he mumbles against your lips. “Only mine.”

“Only yours…”

“Did he make you cum, princess?” He asks as you feel the thin band in your belly threatening to snap.

“No,” you whisper. “I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Rafe’s smile spreads along your lips as he fucks it you a little faster, making you grip the edge of the table, knuckles frosting white. “That’s my girl.”

Your pussy flutters around his cock, making him cum with you. Rafe’s lips lock on yours, swallowing your pleasured sounds as he gives you a few more rough thrusts, leaving you melting in his arms.

Click.

Your heart stops as you look around Rafe, light pouring into the dark room from the hallway as you lock eyes with Topper. The two of you fumble, struggling to get your clothes back on like they're fighting against you. Rafe eyes find yours, demanding your focus as you pull up the straps of your dress, feeling the weight of the situation; your heart still banging from your orgasm, Rafe cum dripping warm down your thigh.

“I told you I’d deal with him. Alright?” He whispers firmly as he zips up his pants. And at that moment, you know he will.

“What the hell is this?”

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au) pt.1

- jihoon x fem!reader - 2.7k words - warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, dry humping, blowjob, needy jihoon cos why not, made so quick cos I was missing him and he has been living in my mind rent free since the day i saw him on the carts ( i wasnt same since then and thoughts have been thunk so here's a fraction of those thoughts ), just a short one, but thinking of making a part two continuation. enjoy! - (prequel link at the end of second part cos i think we all need it)

“You alright?” The silence breaks, as the words from your mouth betrayed yourself. You didn’t really want to speak first, although you did feel the air has now gotten a little lighter compared earlier.

It was Seungkwan’s stupid plan; the guys had been sick of staying up all night after hours of practice for a few days now just to please their dear producer. No one can seem to thaw him, moreso pinpoint where the tension is rooted from. Obviously, it was self-inflicted pressure. Jihoon can’t understand why nobody seems to meet his expectations lately and it got bad to the point of Seokmin blaming himself for what seemed like delays but aren’t as they still got plenty of time before the next comeback. Seungkwan, hurt, seeing his talented friend’s self-esteem chase tears down his cheeks, stepped up by calling you over because “maybe you can do something about your best friend,” as he said.

Jihoon sighed as he slumps his body deep in his chair. You’ve made your presence known since earlier when Soonyoung was trying to ease the tension but you kept your mouth shut or else Jihoon might explode knowing you’re just going to take the poor boy’s side who was even more in tears brought therein by your comforting strokes on his arm. “You came here for what exactly?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed at his words. “Seungkwan called me. For some reason I thought I was coming for a celebration and yet…”

Silence takes over once again. The boys had long been gone since Bumzu initiated that everyone should take a breather first, and secretly asking you to stay and maybe help clear up your friend’s mind. “I don’t even know why the boys kept on doing this, okay? Suddenly all the pressure’s on me whenever you’re acting up.”

You did not want to say it, but it had been a long day at work and hearing his snarky voice ticked you in a bad way.

“I am just tired.” Jihoon says almost immediately, as if not wanting you to say anything more. He massaged his temples and continued, “...tired as fuck.”

“But that does not excuse that kind of attitude!” you stood from the couch, rising with the tension inside the room. “You’re being too hard on the boys and yourself. Again.” You cursed under your breath, realizing the cringy tone that just left your mouth. The last time the same exact nagging tone came out, Jihoon’s anxiety was having a field day in his brain just like earlier, and you did not expect what happened after.

And then it came to you. Soon you were flooded with flashbacks from what happened that night: Jihoon aggressively pinning you by the door, meaning to actually open it and let you out, when all of a sudden you pulled him into an embrace in an attempt to calm him down, crashing your lips to his after a long eye-fucking, breath kissing when you caught him off guard, blushing from the sudden warmth. Not long after he responded, kissing you hard as if you were not just shedding tears arguing with him over his sharp words when you were just asking him to simply breathe during a heated exchange with Soonyoung over the phone. The kiss went wild yet slowly turned comfortable as he kept on apologizing, feeling your hot tears meet his burning red cheeks. You figured he needed it that time, like a de-stressor of some sorts, and so you let his mouth conquer yours as a way to help.

That kiss went longer than what friends could actually share. But if it's the only way to keep your friend sane that moment, you suppose you can let him use you as long as he is not going to be weird about it right after. Which he did, or so you thought.

Because that day never left his mind. He was not sure why you let him kiss you like that that night, nor why you did not even bother to ask about it days, weeks after. A bit hurt that it seemed like a casual thing for you, but for him it meant healing, washing away the anxiety clouding his thinking. That moment stayed on his mind unhealthily long, almost turned into songs he would never write and let you hear, even causing him to get wet dreams for quite a while. But of course, no one could know. Not about the kiss. Not even his budding feelings towards his best friend.

“Jihoon-ah…” you exhaled, turning his swivel to face you. “I can help, Just… tell me how..”

Both of you had the same thing in mind, he needed you just like that night. But why does he find it hard to admit it? 

The guy blushed in pink, avoiding your eyes at all cost, acting as if in deep-thought. “I…”

“Look at me,” he obeys in a second, but his eyes can't help but fall into your lips inches away from him. “Do you want…. my help?”

He nods subtly as an answer, but you can’t just accept that. You needed him firm, an answer to also clear your doubts about the way his eyes are glued to your lips, his ears blushed to the reddest of red, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when you leaned in closer: is he nervous because he’s uncomfortable? or was he nervous because you suddenly make him be?

“Yeah…” his breath hitches, the side of your lips upturns.

“Then say it—”

“I need you,” he reveals his innermost desire as he scrambles to his feet and catches your lips like he has been waiting for it for centuries.

Just like the first time, the kiss deepens instantly as you two found a comfortable position on the couch, you settling on his lap, arms around his shoulders. You two couldn't even care less if the door had been left unlocked when the people had left. It’s just your mouth sharing warmth with his; tongues dancing together in harmony. Just like the first time, he was craving for more, and he was able to relay that message when his teeth grazed at your lower lip, causing a moan to escape your lungs. He too groaned and by then you realized he is now rock hard underneath your heat, his thin shorts revealing himself to your clothed mound. 

“Fuck…” you did not expect yourself to be so turned on knowing you made your best friend erect just like that. All you did was wet kissing and well, maybe sitting right above his cock was what it all took.

You arched your back when you felt him squirm underneath you. He was definitely trying to move and find his rhythm, you thought, so you matched with his and rolled your hips against his erection.

“Damn….” he moaned so deeply with his hoarse voice. The friction between your clothed pussy and his bulge was enough to send you dripping to your core. Not even him, the most rational person you knew, can think straight at a moment like this: does he want to kiss your neck or pull you for another tongue wrestling? Does he want to tear all the annoying garments away from you? Does he want to set his cock free and let you sit on it, ride it if it’s too tempting for you? There’s one thing he knows though, he does not want to stop humping for now. The kind of pleasure the friction is giving him, plus the fact that he was doing such an erotic activity with not just any person but his best friend he had been fantasizing about lately was enough to send him nuts. He cannot even fathom what would happen if this escalates to something more, just having your warmth and your equally heightened libido had his focus on the now.

“You’re so hard, Jihoon.”

It felt so good and ego-boosting at the same time. Is he having a good time as well? He seems to like it as much as you do. His erection and hip movements to meet yours say it all: he wants you so bad and you feel proud someone actually desires you that much. When even was the last time you got laid? Was it a very long time ago? You aren’t sexually active yourself, and surprisingly, you’ve never been in a serious relationship as well. Maybe it wasn’t your priority, but having this heated session with your friend, you realized, you also craved to be touched, and be wanted. You wanted to be kissed deeply and ravenously, to be held possessively, and to be wanted as hungrily as how Jihoon was making you feel. Exactly as how Jihoon is obsessing for all that you are right now.

“Touch me. Please, Jihoon…” 

The dry humping must have had a drug, you thought. How come having all these annoying barriers on your skin makes all these way hotter than you thought it could be? Especially when Jihoon’s feisty hands made their way from your waist to the insides of your shirt while his sloppy kisses made their way to your neck. His cold hands cupping your breasts send electricity to your spine, causing you to moan out his name as dirty and needy as possible. Who could blame you, he was making you feel so good. His hands that created masterpieces are now invading your privacy, so sweetly yet so heavy with emotions. It was as if he was milking out lyrics to an explicit love song out of you, to match the melodies coming out of your lungs that harmonize with his.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?” he managed to say between breaths, as he enjoys playing with your now slightly free breasts that had slipped out of your bra. He is still a boy, you found that out long time ago, when you’ve caught him subtly staring at your chest during that one listening party night you were his plus one at a bar hosted by a producer friend and you just had to wear something skimpy and rather revealing, something to match the R&B vibe of the album. He did catch himself as well staring that time, and proceeded to lend you his suit because “the bartender was having the time of his life flirting with you," - went his alibi.

“Yeah? That’s why you wanted me so bad huh?—oh shit!” you moaned out loud when his hold on you became heavier, pushing you down to his hardened cock as if there were anymore spaces left in between.

Mouths agape, together you humped against each other's heat, only moans were resonating inside his studio alongside a minute sound of the friction cause by the fabrics.

“Fuck I think gonna cum, fuck,” Jihoon cursed, while his eyes were shut and his teeth gritted to concentration. “Fuck,” he humps against you harder as curses kept on rolling from his tongue, while your hips rolled faster to meet his tempo, moans pitched higher and higher. You were also close, and suddenly you were reminded this isn’t about you. You were helping your friend. And you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Wai-wha—what are you doing?” his voice sounded annoyed but you know better than to answer him. Legs folding on the floor as you positioned yourself in between his, not wasting time in pulling twice the constraints that were his shorts and underwear. His cock sprung healthily, all pink and angry, veins bulging out as if wanted to be traced by your tongue.

He hissed out of breath, confused if he wanted to surrender on the couch or look at you in a position he had only dreamt of once. 

No words need exchanging as you started sucking him off right there, mixing his precum with saliva, coating him down until your mouth can take. He had praises for you behind his teeth but all he could let out were needy guttural moans that translated how good you were making him feel anyway. You let his moans and the sight of him all sweaty and consumed fuck your system as the pool in your south continued to dampen your undies, the insides of your thighs getting ticklish, missing the attention it has gotten from him. Oh how badly you wanted him to fuck you right then and there, how badly you want him bucking his hips and drilling you so deep, how badly you wanted this thick cock of his inside you, stretching you oh so painfully yet so pleasurable.

“fuck… cant… anymore…” his shaky words were almost inaudible from all the dirty noises he was making, sounding even more gibberish while his body moved erratically to fuck your mouth, hands glued to your head to try to get his momentum, which did not take long as strings of cum exploded inside your mouth. You were quick to swallow, but most of his loads were still overflowing, racing down to your chin straight to your neck. It was one heck of a view, he thinks, as his chest heaves chasing his breath while appreciating a bit of the scene: his softening cock popping out of your mouth, before almost passing out.

“that was… really good.” it was probably an understatement to the euphoric climax he just had; his mind was still hazy from the release so he cannot find the correct words to tell you. But you were fine, the moans already sounded like praises to you. “That feels much better than I do with my own.”

“Of course it would,” you gave him a peck on the corner of his lips, and then dusting off the wrinkles on your clothes and adjusting your bra. “Takes two to tango.”

Confusion was then plastered on his face when you began fixing your hair and proceeding to face your back to grab your bag you left by the table. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving?”

“Who said you are?”

Somewhere in the room, his phone rings which he attentively checks. The name wasn’t supposed to annoy the hell out of him, but right now it almost spelled like a curse to him.

“You’re not leaving, please.” he grabs your hand as he takes the call from Bumzu. He knows you did not have your release, and he doesn’t want you carrying all that unreleased tension inside you when he himself had the best one tonight. 

You heard the other line asking how he was feeling now and that he had left something inside the studio and if it’s okay to go and get it. Jihoon agrees, not without a defeated sigh and a click of his tongue only you can hear.

“You know the passcode right? I think I’ll take my leave tonight, I don’t think I can wring anything out of my mind at this rate.”

You looked at him while shaking your head as a smirk forms on your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at him as if asking him what he was saying.

“Sure, actually we’ve been meaning to tell you that.” Bumzu seconds him, and asks about you right after. You heard him say Seokmin and Seungkwan had been asking if you weren’t busy and maybe hangout for a while as a way to thank you from earlier. Both guys had always been the sweetest among the bunch and although it was only out of courtesy, Jihoon can’t help but fume in jealousy, making himself lie to keep you in his (and ONLY HIS) sight for a while.

“She just left, I think she said she’s going for an early appointment tomorrow,” and ends the call soon when Bumzu bids his farewell and hopes of him getting well.

“I didn’t know you can lie to your brothers,”

“For an emergency yeah,” he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and now he was already leading you out of his studio to the elevator.

“You could just say you’re sending me home, that would sound a lot better,”

And then what, you finding out about how the guys had been teasing him about you since day one? Of course, he won’t let that happen. Not until he finds the time to finally be honest with himself and to you.

“So… my place or yours?”

-

stay tuned for part two for the hoo-haa ;)

a/n: updated! part two is up! again, there's a prequel you can read after. link will be at the end of the second part ^^

[gazstations]

Blue

ASK REQUEST: find original post here

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SUMMARY

You’re convinced Johnny would be better off without you. Johnny is determined to convince you otherwise.

FANDOM: Call of Duty

PAIRINGS: John MacTavish x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,324 words

WARNINGS: Angst: reader thinks poorly of themselves, mentioned body issues, relationship struggles. Fluff: Johnny being a real one, happy ending, he doesn’t put up with the negativity

◇ Notes: I know some of you only marked down being tagged in fluff and so I figured the little angst was okay because it still ends up fluffy??? Idk. If you have an issue, let me know. I’m new to this tagging system game, lol.

○●○ NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

THERE WAS A VILE SICKNESS MAKING A MESS OF THE WIRING IN YOUR BRAIN. It was always there lingering in every squelching groove, sinking into the delicate, fleshy existence of life. You supposed the darkness was always there. It ate away at everything good until it reworked your DNA down to the very core.

You always lived with this subtle distaste for how you existed. You were a melancholic child who never learned how to purge out that sinister inner voice. It was you. That's not something a few good thoughts could work through. You were born blue in the face and would surely die that way.

Substitutes for temporary release were only that. Temporary.

Infection spread quickly, burning out the live synapses that produced the tantalizing joy. There was a steady muteness in your life. Your core was dispositioned, and that threw off the whole equilibrium.

When John MacTavish crashed head first into your life, he was crafted in an eager, child-like visage. He slithered methodically behind you, pinning you underneath his warm light. Because that’s what he always was: warm. He was this golden light you didn’t know how you lived without before.

And he wanted you. He traced the ridges of your rib cage with a slow, delicate nature as he searched for a way in between the grooves in order to grasp your heart. He was purposeful, laid out his intentions right in the beginning, leaving you no room to question or second guess.

For a long time, you were secured by this lively, bright muse that you somehow captured.

The fog was a gradual ascension. You were too busy with the calloused hands that cupped your cheeks each dewy morning to notice the grotesque, greedy hands that slowly sunk into your jugular. It wasn’t until they pierced your carotid artery that you realized the sickness in your brain had caught up once more.

It was always there. You shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable.

You began to doubt.

At first, the nausea only manifested like a small illness. Heavy behind the eyes as they leaked tears constantly, a tickle in the back of your throat, and a queasiness in the pit of your stomach. It was easy to hide, easy to push into the back of your mind even though you constantly felt the shadow behind you.

Then you became absent-minded. You lugged your weary body by the bone in a trance-like state to the kitchen each morning. Your morning beverage had a sour aftertaste, no longer appealing. Your food was bland, and you no longer felt excitement at the thought of eating. No matter what you did to stimulate yourself throughout the day, your joints still ached.

Then, you began to dismiss Johnny’s attempts to bond. This was where you felt horrible, which delved you further into your self-destructive attitude. He was a kicked puppy with every non explantive rejection as he watched you drift further away. A hollowed out phantom that haunted the halls where you first bloomed.

When you were in public, you stopped holding his hand. What he saw was malice creeping out through your pores. What you felt was that there were softer hands for him to hold. When he tried to hold you from behind while you waited in line or were just existing, you claimed you were too hot. His brow would furrow, and hurt would cross his face. He never questioned, and you hated yourself for ever giving him a reason to feel that agonizing pain and never know why.

As a natural physical touch fiend, Johnny tried to solve your issues with more. You knew all the ways he tried to initiate sex after so long in your relationship, and you could sniff out the desire from a mile away. By the time his voice dropped to a low brogue, his eyes half-lidded, and he was rutting his hips against your body, you were already far too tense.

Not now. I’m too tired.

It was always the fucking same excuse that fell from your poisonous lips. You were so cruel to the man that loved you wholeheartedly and you didn’t have the capacity to let words of confession slip past your lips.

Soon, he’d realize you weren’t worth all the effort to save. And though it would break your heart, you knew it would be for the better. You couldn’t purge this sickness in your mind. It was a chronic, permanent state of your being. Blue for the rest of your life.

You knew you had to play the part sometimes, however. So, when he initiated sex after three or four times of denial, you let him have his way with you. He peeled your clothes off your body, and yet you felt like he was prying the flesh from your bone. He dipped his mouth down between your thighs, and you stared at the ceiling, bile rising in your throat. You were suddenly hyper aware of every imperfect nuance of your body.

You hadn’t been caring for yourself like you should’ve. Your legs were prickly from not shaving for a couple of days. Acne was infested your skin. You hadn’t washed your hair for several days. None of those things Johnny had cared about before. He was never picky, but now, because you had your concerns, you believed maybe he did as well.

He moaned and groaned as he lapped at your slit. His fingers dug into your plush thighs and pushed them further away from each other. Anyone else could see he was seeing heaven right then and there, but to you, his warbles of content were over exaggerated. You despised yourself for convincing yourself at that moment that he only pretended that he had to enjoy it because he couldn’t hurt your feelings.

When he realized you weren’t into it, he lifted his head and softened his gaze. You weren’t going to find pleasure when you were already one foot out the door. When he went to hold you, you climbed from the bed and locked yourself in the bathroom. You turned on the shower to muffle your cries of self-loathing.

You were drifting out in a minefield, and Johnny was struggling to follow you.

He hadn’t tried to touch you since.

He was respecting you. Waiting for you to break and come to him for guidance. He didn’t want to be the one that forced you to change or heal. He was allowing you to come to that conclusion yourself.

No, maybe he was finally realizing you weren’t worth the effort.

A month passed of this disease. You withered away, and Johnny tried to save face in the public eye. Your shared home was a warzone, however. Sleep deprivation made you quicker to snap. It made you further your atrophy. You were trying to fix it, but it destroyed itself even more. Self-destruction was a war not many came back from.

Johnny was a problem solver, however. He broke. Not in the way you anticipated where he separated from his role in your life, but in how he clung to you again. He was a good man. He was observant, empathetic, and loving.

You were having a bad day. You stood in front of your mirror and dissected every physical manifestation of your insecurity. You tried to be good, to find a means to hype yourself up. To build your palaces amongst the rubble. It led to you on the floor of your bedroom, several items of clothing on the floor around you.

You were naked, stripped down to the very core of you. You were overstimulated, tears of frustration pooling out your eyes as your stuffy nose wheezed. Mucus collected in your throat and made it hard to breathe. You could feel the individual follicles of your hair, brushing against your body. You wondered how fast you could shave yourself bald.

“Oh, doe. It’s okay. C’mere.”

Johnny didn’t worry about past boundaries he set for himself in order to give you space. You didn’t realize he was home until his arms wrapped around your heaving body and pulled you back into his embrace. You were too weak to deny him this time.

He kissed your heated temple softly. You were making yourself ill from your deterioration. You choked on spittle and just sagged into his chest. Once the sorrow started, you couldn’t stop it. Your eyes tainted him as well, dampening his shirt as you sobbed pitifully.

You were so exhausted.

“C’mon, doe. Talk tae me,” Johnny pleaded. His hand ran over your head in soothing pats before descending down to your back, where he traced each vertebrae of your spine.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you choked. “Why I’m like this.”

Johnny shushed you quietly and kissed at your hairline again. He didn’t try to discount your feelings by telling you that you didn’t need to feel this way. That wasn’t how you convinced someone to heal. You could give them assurances, but at the end of the day, they had to take the initiative to believe those words.

“Tha’s okay. Ye dinnae need tae ken,” he said.

You wondered if Johnny was naturally intuitive or if it was a learned trait after years of perusing different social circles. And your brain leaked poison back into your synapses. You weren’t like him. You struggled deeply to empathize with people when you were so caught up in your own gloom. Socially, you didn’t understand, and so you hardly connected with anyone. Not like Johnny.

“Doe…” Johnny’s voice brought you back. He pulled your head from his chest and cupped your quivering jaw. It ached from constant clenching. “Did ye hear me?”

Confusion made you tilt your head. You sniffled quietly and shook your head, admitting that you had disappeared inside your head.

“Ah asked ye if ye could try tae explain it tae me,” Johnny said carefully, as if you were going to frighten and lose what intimacy you had just allowed him.

You swallowed. “I don’t know,” you paused and felt the lump growing in your throat. “I don’t know how.”

“Is it me?” Johnny questioned. He pouted his lip and gave you a saddened look. Had he always been dissolving alongside you?

You have a single clue on which words to conjure. You were at a blockage, and it overwhelmed you. This self mutilation was far too complicated to simply explain. Too many branches grew off of the main trunk. Too convoluted. Too frustrating.

“It’s everything.” Was what you settled for. It was a pathetic response.

Johnny didn’t falter, though. He let out a soft, cooing noise and ran his thumbs along your cheekbones. It took your answer in stride despite all your attempts to absolve him of his responsibility to keep your wither away. You didn’t understand his psyche.

What you didn’t realize was that he understood the unwavering doubt and dissolution. As a soldier, he was well-equipped in the crippling agony that followed every decision. He understood that some days it was just simply everything.

Johnny sat back against the foot of the bed. He simply patted his lap, baby blue eyes watching you closely. Fondly. Sorrowfully. His own eyes were glassy as if he was sympathetic to your treacherous plight. It was almost as if your agony was his burden to bear as well.

You crawled into his lap like a wounded child. He helped your thighs cradle on the outside of his in a straddle as he stared at you quietly. Your damaged heart fluttered when he simply raised your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. Then he transferred to the other hand.

“Ah cannae help ye if ye dinnae talk tae me, doe,” He said.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your heart was leaking, and you were tearing yourself apart.

“Why?” Johnny booped your nose and then kissed the tip. You watched his long eyelashes flutter as he blinked naturally. “Because ye ‘ave a couple bad thoughts?”

“More than a couple,” you muttered.

Johnny smiled faintly at your small correction. He wiped at the underside of your eyes delicately to not disturb that thin stretch of skin. You sighed softly, feeling the callouses rub across your face. It was more comforting than you wanted to admit.

“Ah think yer the bonniest thing ah ‘ave ever seen,” he said.

You scoffed. It was self-pitying. Pained. Those words made your own tongue feel dry even though he was the one who said them. Johnny noticed and frowned, “Not lying, doe. Ye need the truth right now.”

You couldn’t answer. You felt awful for what you worried about. What he had never been privy to this whole time. Or maybe he already knew what thoughts were naturally part of the package when it came to self-deprecation.

“Tell me how tae help ye,” Johnny pleaded.

“I don’t know…” You breathed out. “I’m just tired of my brain trying to sabotage a good thing.”

“Do ye see me runnin’?” He asked.

You shook your head. No, he wasn’t running, and for some reason, that was scarier. You noticed your hands were trembling, and you went to tuck them in between your thighs. Yet, you couldn’t fool your soldier, and he intercepted the movement by cupping both of your hands.

“Doe, look at me,” he ordered softly.

You listened to the command, prompted by the subdued syllables in his tone. It was pleasant on your ears, and your body slackened in his hold. His unwavering hold. That lump in your throat grew bigger. You almost thought you’d suffocate on it. Your throat was burning so deeply, and you swallowed to tamper down the urge to sob more.

“Yer okay…” Johnny assured. “Jus’ us. And ah love ye as much as ever.”

You made the mistake of locking eyes with the perceptive blue, and suddenly, you felt you were lost at sea. Endlessly staring at that one beacon of light to get you back to the shoreline. Except you kicked and tried to just give up, let the current drown you.

“Why?” You asked.

“Could write a novel fer ye,” Johnny said.

You huffed through your tears. You didn’t believe him, but somehow, the words still calmed you. He was trying to appeal to you, even if you spat it back out. You were an infection of hollowness, a husk, and Johnny was this beautiful being that somehow had all the capacity in his heart nurture. Even when he was shackled down by his own demons.

“Serious,” Johnny added. “Already talked silly ‘bout ye in my journals.”

Now, that was surprising. Johnny never showed you what was hidden beneath the leather-bound journals he continuously collected. You accepted it was personal. Some things you didn’t have the right to. Even as his partner.

“There’s no way you have that many good things to say,” you protested.

Johnny tapped your hip and helped you stand up. His bad knee cracked as he followed, a slight tension in his face. He once said it wasn’t painful, only when it got cold. It was just tight and felt like walking through tar. A reckless decision that permanently changed his body.

He grabbed your hand and led you over to his side of the room. He opened a drawer and pulled out two journals. He hummed softly as he checked the contents before turning and offering them to you.

“Read ‘em,” he declared. “Then try tae tell yerself that yer something to be disgusted by.”

He was offering you his heart with this one gesture. It made you more nervous than you expected. You were afraid to see yourself as Johnny supposedly saw you. Like if you weren’t damned then there was nothing worthwhile about you. The churning waters were your home. You were terrified to grab at the shoreline—that beacon of light now right in front of you.

It brought you to safety.

You were taught to snarl at it and question its motives.

Still, you took the journals with bated breath.

Johnny kissed your forehead, pleased. “Find me when yer done.”

He gave you space to stew as he stepped out into the hallway. You didn‘t move until you were faint from locking your knees so tightly.

♡◇♡

You climbed down the stairs with heavy steps. Your body was numbed, tears clumping your eyelashes together. Your emotional output was severely depleted. You had run yourself dry.

Johnny was in the kitchen when you found him. He was leaning back against the counter. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and his jeans wrapped around his thighs detectably. But your mind wasn’t on that, not right now.

He smiled brightly when he saw your wounded form approaching, and he simply opened his arms. He understood what you needed at that moment. You hadn’t realized how much he saw you until you made it cover to cover in both of those journals.

You sniffled quietly, muffled by his shirt. You didn’t cry. You just sat there in his embrace. He saw you. He always had seen beneath the crippled, hollowed husk you were.

“You mean it?” You questioned.

“Aye, bon. Every single word,” Johnny said. “It breaks my heart tha’ ye dinnae see ‘ow wonderful ye are.”

“I didn’t think you’d…” you bit your tongue as acid burned on the wet muscle.

“Tha’ ah what?” Johnny pressed.

You deep down groaned that he didn’t let you off the hook, that he forced you to put your words out into the air. That your insecurity had to have a body. It seemed more ridiculous that way. Those stupid thoughts that circulated in your brain had less weight once they were out into the clean air.

You caught on to what Johnny was doing.

“I just… I don’t understand why…” you paused, brain pounding in your skull. “I think about your exes and your friends and how easily you just… live. And here I am…”

“Dinnae need the most confident bird, doe,” Johnny says. “Aye, ah yap a ton. But ye help me take a step back. My life is active, ah like havin’ my bon all calm. Ye the one ah chose as my partner. So the other birds ah’ve been with disnae matter.”

You went to speak, but Johnny literally covered your mouth, halting any leakage. You squinted as you stared at him, and he just gave you a boyish grin. It worked. It turned off your mind for a moment.

“If yer gonna talk shite, ye keep tha’ mouth shut,” he said.

You stared at him for a long, calculating moment. Then, you sighed, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. You didn’t have any emotionless replies. You didn’t have a self-deprecating joke. You had nothing. That was a good thing for once.

When Johnny was certain no acid would seep out of your mouth, he dropped his hand.

“What do ye want for dinner?” He asked as if it hadn't been an emotional warzone the past…well…whole time.

“What?” You blinked in confusion, head still reeling.

“Ah'm ordering us something,” he stated matter-of-factly as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You were at least grateful he didn't offer to take you out because you really didn't want to go out. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry either, or maybe you were. Food didn't sound too repulsive right now. Though, if he hadn't said anything, you probably would've just gone straight to bed.

“Oh…”

You really didn't know what else to say.

Johnny hummed, seemingly picking up on that. He kissed your forehead before peeling himself away from your coiled tight body. The air was filled with a little less anxiety and far more sweetness than there had been in months. It put you at ease.

“Go take a shower, doe,” Johnny ordered softly. “Ah got this covered.”

And you believed it.

°•○●○•°

TAGLIST

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[logansdoll]

ivy, l. howlett (3)

you and Scott go after Rogue and Wolverine... but when you return, a familiar face shows up on your doorstep.

CW: canon typical violence, gore, guns, mutation, profanity, innuendos, mature themes, mentions of sex, y/n is very poison ivy-esque, jean grey exists but is not present, etc.

"You look around. I'll check the ticket agent," you told Scott, heading toward the booth.

He gave you a stiff nod, quietly glancing around for any sign of Magneto's disciples.

It didn't come as a surprise when Rogue ran away the next day—and it came as an even less of one when Logan went off after her, despite the professor's instructions.

So you and Scott set off to Grand Central Station in search of the two before they could be taken hostage.

Of course, Scott was less than happy to be there.

Just another mess of Logan's for him to clean up...

'Big baby...'

You were quick to explain the situation once you finally made it to the front of the line.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I need to know if you've seen a young girl pass through here?" you asked, sincerely. 

You just wanted Rogue to be safe.

Scott could get pissy about Logan stealing his bike or going against direction, but at the end of the day she was the priority.

And you weren't going to stop until you found her.

Lord knows you were just like her about ten years ago.

"She's about seventeen. Uh, my height. Has brown hair, and she—"

A loud growl suddenly rumbled from behind, and you turned around, only to be grabbed by the neck and hoisted up by a huge, hairy, blonde man whose nails needed serious trimming.

"Sabretooth... I take it?" you rasped, your hands coming up to grab at his in an attempt to pull him off.

But he let out a roar, roughly pulling you closer, his hot breath fanning over your face.

"Scream for me," he snarled.

Looking past him, you saw Scott storming over, about to help, when a yellow skinned man hanging off the ceiling suddenly stuck out his long tongue, whipping Scott's glasses of his face and forcing him to burn a gigantic hole into the roof.

Using the seeds in your pocket, you shot out a gigantic stalk of bamboo, ramming him through a wall and into the next room, sending rubble flying everywhere.

Dropping to the ground, you let out a gasp of relief, clutching your throat.

'This is day two... I get choked again... someone's dying.'

"You said he wanted me," Logan glared, aggressively grabbing his jacket.

"I made a terrible mistake," Xavier admitted, thoroughly disappointed in himself. "His helmet was somehow designed to block my telepathy. I couldn't see what he was after until it was too late."

Face taut, Logan stormed toward the exit of his room, shoving his arm through the sleeve.

"Where are you going?" you asked, brows furrowed.

"I'm gonna find her."

"How?" Xavier turned to him.

"The traditional way: look," he spat, striding out the the door.

Quickly, you turned to the professor, and he gave you a nod of approval, already aware of your question.

Though, if you were being honest, you would've done it anyway.

"Logan," you called, following him out the hall and down the steps. "You can't do this alone."

"Who's gonna help me? You?" he scoffed, eyes focused ahead as he started toward the exit. "So far you've all done a bang-up job."

"Then help us. Fight with us," you pressed on, closing in on him.

Suddenly, he stopped, turning around so fast you nearly crashed into his chest.

"Fight with you?" he growled, voice low and face only a few inches from yours. "What, join the team? Be an X-man?"

You stood firm despite his mockery, eyes searching his for what he truly felt.

Yet all you found was pain, guilt, and self-loathing.

He blamed himself for Rogue's kidnapping, and was lashing out from a place of hurt.

So you wouldn't take it personal.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You're a mutant. The whole world out there is full of people that hate and fear you. And you're wasting your time tryna protect them," he shook his head. "I got better things to do."

He walked off again, but suddenly stopped, turning to face you once more.

"Y'know, Magneto's right. There's a war coming," he stated. "Are you sure you're on the right side?"

"At least I've chosen a side."

The words slightly stung, and he gave you a look as he opened the door, only to be met by Senator Kelly.

The driving force of the Mutant Registration Program.

Only now he looked like shit, sweaty and clammy and out of breath.

"I'm looking... for Dr. (y/n) (l/n)," he panted, weakly.

Suddenly, his legs gave out, and he fell forward into Logan's arms, unconscious.

"Bring him to my lab. Quick," you ordered, turning around and heading for the lower levels.

'Never a dull moment...'

"Senator Kelly," Xavier started, leaning a little closer, "I'm Professor Charles Xavier."

The senator was laying on your operating table, hooked up to several machines in order to keep his condition stable.

Though it was truly anything but that.

"I was afraid if I went to a hospital, they would—" "Treat you like a mutant?"

The professor shook his head, reassuringly.

"We're not all what you think... not all of us."

"Tell it to the ones who did this to me."

Xavier sighed, wheeling his chair around to the tip of the table, where Kelly's head rested.

"Senator," the professor rested his hands against the man's temples. "I want you to relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

He took a moment, sifting through Kelly's memories to find out exactly what happened.

And when he did, it was evident on Charles's face that it did not bode well.

Quickly, he turned around, Logan following him down the hall where Scott and Ororo waited, while you stayed with the senator.

In the meeting...

"The machine emits radiation that triggers mutation in ordinary human beings," he started, the news thoroughly worrying him. "But the mutation is unnatural. (y/n)'s already deduced Kelly's body is rejecting it. His cells show signs of significant degeneration."

"What effect does radiation have on mutants?" Scott asked, turning to the professor.

"There appears to be none. But I fear it will seriously harm any normal person exposed to it," he answered.

"So what does Magneto want with Rogue?" Logan chimed from his spot against the wall.

Xavier hung his head, "I don't know."

That was all he needed to hear.

Logan didn't give a shit about some senator—Kelly made it abundantly clear he didn't give a shit about mutants—so he wasn't gonna sit around and play doctor for him.

One less human to worry about.

"Wait a second," Scott realized. "You said this machine draws energy from Magneto, and that it weakened him."

"Yes," the professor confirmed, slowly beginning to realize. "In fact, it nearly killed him."

Wait a minute...

'Oh, shit.'

"He's gonna transfer his power to Rogue, and use her to power the machine."

In the lab...

"Is somebody there?" Senator Kelly rasped, his hand weakly reaching out toward the darkness.

"Yes," you answered, quickly heading over. "I'm here."

The moment you arrived at his bedside, his cold, clammy hand grabbed your arm, frantically.

"Please don't leave me," he heaved, pleadingly. "Don't wanna be alone."

You looked down at him, eyes saddened by his sorry state.

His veins were dark and bulging painfully against his skin, and he was covered in an ungodly amount of sweat.

Or, at least, what you thought to be sweat.

Though you were quickly starting to realize that he was liquefying right before your eyes.

"All right," you nodded, softly.

Water was leaving him at a steady trickle, and you knew he had only a few minutes, if not moments, left to live.

"Do you hate normal people?" he suddenly asked, voice distant.

And for a man on his deathbed, you answered honestly.

"Sometimes..."

"Why?"

Now that took a little more thought.

"I guess... I'm afraid of them."

He smiled, reassuringly, "Well... I think you have one... less person to be afraid of."

And before you could respond, he gasped, suddenly choking on his own throat as it began to turn into water.

Your eyes shot wide, and you looked down at his hand, only to liquidize right in your grasp, splashing water everywhere.

Snapping your head back to him, you watched as the rest of his organs and bodily fluids devolved into water, until it all finally burst, leaving nothing of him to remain.

'Professor! Now!'

Quickly, you turned around, sprinting out the door and down the hall toward where they were having their meeting.

Once you made it to the door, you barged in, interrupting a Logan-Scott argument.

"Senator Kelly is dead," you stated, seriously.

"I am going to find her," Xavier turned to the rest of you, face taut.

All bets were off now—there was no holding back.

"Let's settle this."

[scvrgrl]

part two | part one

cw: suggestive themes & mature language

you were eternally grateful for your father to grant you a spot on his crew, truly. life back home had been comfortable but mundane, sticking to the same routines everyday to satisfy the ember of boredom that burned through your entire body. no matter where you were in that small little town in the north blue, your gaze wandered to the ocean. drinking in their salty breeze, you dreamt of the day that the waves rolled and crashed beneath your feet.

but it was moments like these — elbow deep in soapy, chunky dishwater with copious amounts of sweat sticking your clothes and forehead — that you regretted accepting such an offer. to make matters worse, you were stuck with none other than Portgas D. Ace, who was mopping the floorboards behind you. well, at least he would be if he wasn’t so busy vocalizing a tune in an obnoxious attempt to sound half-way decent, using the long wooden handle as his microphone stand.

“GATHER UP ALL OF THE CREWWWW,” Ace continued, shuffling closer to where you had been stationed, leaning over the ceramic sink to guarantee he was in your line of sight. you gave him a quick glance, watching the way his jaw worked to pronounce every syllable that left his lips. it wasn’t long before Ace’s espresso-colored pupils caught your own, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. you could see the smile in his eyes, despite remaining completely focused on the not-so-correct lyrics. “OUR WAVES WILL BE OUR GUIDEEE”

as annoyed and overstimulated you were, you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips. god how ridiculous can he get?

“those aren’t even the right lyrics,” you mused, splashing the soapy dishwater into Ace’s face. white suds clung to his hair, flinching as the cold water hit his warm, freckled cheeks.

“oh i’m sorry, I didn’t know you were the pirate song expert,” Ace retorted, still squinting the water from his eyes. he dug his own hand into the sink, scooping up the fresh layer of soap you had just rinsed from a plate and flung it right back into your face.

the rest of the crew thought it would be a great idea to schedule your chores at the exact same time, forcing you and Ace to work together. they believed that, through teamwork, there was a chance the two of you would develop a bond. at least that’s the story they gave Whitebeard when they proposed the idea, anyway. in reality, many of them began to place bets on whether or not the two of you would develop feelings for each other.

“i’ll bet you 300 berries that they’re gonna do it within the next few weeks,” Marco said drunkenly, his lips returning to the mysterious bottle of liquor in his grasp.

Izo watched as he took a big swig, grimacing at such a vulgar image planted in his mind, “you don’t even have 300 berries. plus she totally hates his guts and Ace wouldn’t dare risk his position on this ship.”

“i don’t know…it could just be a buncha pigtail pulling,” Marco shrugged, offering Izo a sip which he politely declined.

“yeah, and by the looks of it, [y/n] is doing much of the pulling.”

...

you’d never admit it to their faces, but they were kinda right. over the last few days, working together with Ace helped to ease the tension between the two of you. sounds of unrelenting bickering were then exchanged with lighthearted laughs and teasing, no signs of hostility in your words. of course, this change didn’t come easy, constantly snapping at Ace even after the smallest mistakes. 

“god, can you ever do anything right!?” you griped, snatching the red bucket from Ace’s grasp after he clumsily knocked it over. “i told you there was a fucking bucket right behind you! now i have to start all over again!” 

“maybe if you didn’t mumble your words and actually looked at me in the eyes for once, i would’ve heard you!” Ace scoffed, irritation thrumming in his chest. “you’re making this really difficult, you know that?” 

your stinging eyes returned his gaze, eyes flashing with an emotion that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. sure he was irritated, but there was a strange sense of desperation that lingered, a spark of sadness you didn’t expect. since that discussion in your father’s quarters, you’ve noticed that Ace was strangely nice to you. his jabs at you were never harsh, just playful enough to get a reaction. 

in truth, the memory of you dazed and lost in your mind haunted him. Ace carried burdens the weight of battleships, his pain unbearable and agonizing. he often had nightmares of losing his brothers, that one day his entire world would crumble and be swept from beneath him. he was used to the odds never being in his favor, that being unlovable and rejected was his birthright. Ace never would have thought that his loneliness projected onto another face would hurt him so deeply, yet it did. he had so much to give to this world, so many favors to return to the ones he loved. Ace believed that being able to relieve you of just one of those burdens was enough for him. 

“look, [y/n]. i’m really trying to get along with you, here. i know how much it hurts you to disappoint your dad, i saw it.” 

the last line of Ace’s words stunned you, shocked that someone you hardly knew was able to read you so well. but at the same time, you hated it.

“what the hell do you know, huh? you don’t know my life. i’m fine, Ace — and I’ve been doing fine until you came and screwed everything up! stop trying to meddle in my business when you obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. you might have your own shit going on, but don’t use that as an excuse to project your sorry life onto mine.” 

your voice became shaky towards the end of your rant, words more harsh than you had anticipated. the gravity of your outburst finally hit you as you saw Ace take a step back — taking a step away from you to avoid further damage. your spite was infectious, and he wasn’t going to let you drag him down with you. 

“fuck this,” he whispered, blinking away the sting of tears as he stormed out.

you’d never seen Ace hurt before, not even after your little tiffs and nasty arguments. he’d always brush off your words with his stupid laugh, arms clutching his stomach as if your anger was the most amusing thing in the world. you would often daydream of the moment Ace truly got angry with you, just so you could relish in the same joy he got from bickering with you. but now that your dream was fulfilled, you realized that it was all wrong. a pit of regret ached in your stomach, the remnants of venom from your words stinging your throat. 

… 

from that day forward, you made an effort to mend your nonexistent relationship. as much as it pained you to do so, you were much kinder to Ace, patiently waiting for your anger to subside rather than lashing out at him. over time, it became easier and easier to work with Ace, fondness blooming where resentment once stood. awkward silences became comfortable ones, a sign of mutually respecting each other’s space when needed. now, the two of you wrestled playfully in the ship’s kitchen, dodging soapy advances from each other, giggles and squeals erupting from your throat.  

“okay! we still have to finish the kitchen, weirdo!” you chuckled, dodging behind the counter as a handful of water flies toward your face. 

“we are finished — take a look around,” Ace argues, gesturing to the room with open arms. “the soap makes it nice and clean!”  

you rolled your eyes, scoffing at his antics. “what am i gonna do with you, Ace?” 

a mischievous look glossed over Ace’s expression, eyes squinting as they flicker between your eyes and lips. 

“i know something we can do,” Ace drawled, a devilish grin plastered across his face as he inches closer to meet you.

your cheeks flushed instantly, brows furrowing to counteract the rapid thumping of your heart. as Ace approached closer and closer, you found yourself pressed against the wooden island, lower back digging into its sharp edge. Ace was dangerously close to your face as he leaned in, arms caging you in from both sides. you closed your eyes in anticipation, breath shuddering against the soft skin of his neck. dad’s gonna kill me.

every one of Ace’s movements had been calculated — the way the warmth of his thumbs lingered desperately close to your waist, how his lips ghosted over the rosy skin that rested over your decorated ears. he knew what he was doing was wrong, knew that any sort of reaction he would elicit from you was entirely forbidden. and thats exactly what made it so addicting. 

“gotcha,” Ace said, voice just above a whisper. you could feel the smile behind his words, his warm breath teasing the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“huh?” you asked breathlessly, eyes still shut as your thoughts swirled in your head. his scent was intoxicating yet inviting. 

the sound of glass scraping and liquid sloshing pulled you out of your daze, blinking back into reality. the absence of Ace’s warmth soon followed as he took a step back, dangling the cool bottle of liquor in front of your face. your eyes flickered to his, Ace’s guise entirely oblivious to the last few seconds. 

“what? are you feeling okay, [y/n]? you look a little flushed,” Ace teased, feigning innocence, yet the knowing look in his eyes was anything but. 

“you’re unbelievable,” you huffed, snatching the bottle from his grasp while shoving his face away from your sight. Ace released a deep laugh as he watched you take a long swig from the rim, hoping the sting of its contents would distract you from the unfamiliar fluttering deep in your stomach. 

…

fusions of pinks and oranges faded across the horizon as the sun set before the two of you, slightly tipsy and giggling at each other like schoolgirls. Ace had been filling you in on every moment that lead him here — his dark past in loneliness and the special moments he shared with his brothers. he told you about his late brother, Sabo and his menacing little brother, Luffy, each story more entertaining than the last.

“—and then he tried to make us work under him! Luffy had told us that one day Sabo and i would be on his pirate ship, under his command! and oh man did we get him good for that,” Ace chuckled, a twinkle of nostalgia and fondness sparkling in his eyes.

you couldn’t help the cheesy smile that stuck to your face, cheeks set into place so long that they began to ache. your heart fluttered with unbridled joy as you watched Ace be genuine and honest, his walls of mystery and teasing crumbling before your eyes. it was a beautiful demolition, like an accident that you couldn’t pry your eyes from, wanting and waiting for more.

“but that’s enough about me and my life. i want to know about you — better yet, what’s it like being Whitebeard’s daughter?” Ace queried, eyes wild with curiosity. he gently removed the bottle from your grasp, his strong fingers grazing your own.

“well, they’re definitely some pretty big shoes to fill,” you began, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “i didn’t grow up with any siblings — just me and my mom for the most part. sure i had friends, but i always felt…empty. like i was missing something but i couldn’t quite figure out what it was. it wasn’t until i was thirteen that i realized i needed a purpose, something to fight for.”

you felt Ace’s gaze burn into the side of your face, his eyes focused on the space beneath the curve of your jaw. he mustered up all the fleeting sobriety in his body and studied you, brows slightly furrowed in concentration. the intensity of his gaze made your cheeks burn hot, occasionally returning his glances when it felt most appropriate. you hadn’t noticed the way Ace inched closer to you until his knee bumped yours, warm stubbly skin grazing your bones. however, he was completely unaware of this advancement, continuing the conversation like normal, “and did you find it?”

the alcohol continued its rampage through your body, its fuzzy sensation inhibiting your awkwardness. there was no pressure to fill the silence that lingered between the two of you, taking the time to gather your thoughts. and as you reflected, you realized that no one’s ever asked you that before, not even yourself. …did i?

“yes…? no..?” you said, entirely unsure of yourself. your face suddenly met your hands as you sighed into them, “it’s complicated.”

“then tell me what you have so far,” Ace suggested, eyes soft and reassuring. “and we’ll work from there.”

the nervous pit in your stomach abruptly ignited, burning with an unfamiliar warmth that spread to your chest. to your heart. uh oh.

“i want to be free,” you started, words slow and certain. “all i want is to explore and see what the world has to offer. i want to know about things that could be beyond my comprehension, things i would only see in my wildest dreams.”

Ace watched the way your eyes began to sparkle, passion and the reflection of the setting sun causing your pupils to light up. he smiled to himself, huffing a small laugh as he brought the bottle to his mouth once again, “you sound just like Luffy. in fact, i think the two of you would get along quite nicely.”

“he sounds like my kinda guy,” you mused, nudging Ace’s broad shoulders with a loose fist. “but like i said, i wanna be able to explore the world and to do that i have to make a name for myself, ya know? i want to be successful more than anything! but…i don’t want to be seen as some stupid nepo baby whose daddy gave her everything she wanted.”

your fingers gently traced the rings in the wooden planks beneath you, carving their age with a delicate touch. “i’ve never told anyone this before so don’t go around telling people what i’m about to tell you!” you commanded, redirecting your finger from the floor to the man before you.

Ace flinched at the sight, eyes crossing to meet your fingertip that hovered over his strong nose. “no promises,” he teased, hands up in mock defense.

you squinted your eyes in an attempt to appear intimidating, but deep down you knew Ace could be trustworthy. “i almost didn’t get on the ship that day…that day back home when Pops came to get me.”

Ace’s brows furrowed in confusion. whatever he had expected you to say was definitely not this. “wait what? they told me you were dying to board, like you had slept there and waited all night or something.”

“and i was! i was so unbelievably excited. trust me, my mother had a hard time sending me off — i mean tears in her eyes and everything! she was a mess!”

you took a pause to laugh at the memory, clutching your stomach as you nearly toppled over. the sight of your mother staring up at you with tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes puffy and nose running like a small child. it was a precious sight — one that reminded you that she was once in your shoes, a young girl who had dreams bigger than the whole sky.

“but seriously though, something in me felt…unsure. i’ve had that dream for a while and it’s completely set in stone, i’m sure. and yet, i still questioned if this was the right choice. if everyone thought that i didn’t earn or work toward where i wanted, what’s the point?”

the sigh that followed released a weight off your chest you hadn’t even realized was there, waves of relief crashing over you. however, the gravity of your vulnerability presented another burden, embarrassment rising hot in your cheeks.

“sorry that was probably a lot…” you said timidly, averting your gaze from Ace’s, who had been watching you intently the entire time.

the softness in his eyes never faltered. he didn’t judge or laugh or brush off your words like many have before, labeling your dream as foolish or impractical. instead he listened, trailing closely behind every word that left your lips and cradling it into a protective embrace.

“we’re a lot more similar than you may realize,” he began, handing the bottle over to you with a knowing look. you need this more than i do.

“i’ve always had a knack for piracy and living life on the edge. commanding a ship and leading my crew through the waters to success has been a dream of mine for as long as i can remember. it’s what brought me the family i have today — the people i would risk everything for if they asked. plus it’s in my blood, not that i have him to thank for that anyway.”

“but now that i’ve joined this crew, my world as done a complete one-eighty. i want to be a part of this family more than anything, but i also don’t really know what that means…” Ace said, scratching at the nape of his neck and causing his rusty orange hat to tip over his eyes in the process. without a second thought you reached forward to adjust it, returning a small smile once you could see his dark eyelashes once more. he continued on, as if your random act of kindness was a natural response.

“so if we’re both in this weird limbo…why not figure it out together? you scratch my back and i’ll scratch yours, no matter what.”

his question had been so casual, yet it meant the world to you. having someone who understood you so deeply be your side through it all was a tempting offer. sure you had many people on this crew who would provide you with the wisdom suited to your needs. but they had it all figured out for themselves, content with their lives and their positions that feelings of self-doubt were a distant memory.

Ace’s hand raised in front of your face, inviting you to take his and shake on the offer. you set the bottle down after a final swig, cupping your hands together with a strong grip, “let’s do it.”

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

Wheezing and struggling through the haze of another multi hour binge, I buck my hips to grind my aching cock against my belly hang. You haven’t given it attention in days, and have been adamant that I’m to do the same. It’s good practice for when I can’t reach, you say. This is the life I have to get used to if I’m going to be your feedee, rutting and humping like a desperate pig, too fat to reach myself and too out of shape for actual sex. So I keep my hands busy a different way. 

I eat.

I eat until I’m too full to move.

I eat until I’m too full to think.

I eat until I’m too full to feel the persistent temptation goading me to play with my cock while I still can.

It’s how I spend most of my days now. It is a constant and necessary distraction. It is your favorite way to push me to pile more lard onto my softening body.

But then you walk through the door, striding over to where I’m filling up the couch, my ass widening and spreading across the cushions a little more each day. My dulled senses barely register you at first, barely comprehend anything out side of the explosion of salt and grease and sinful flavor inside my mouth. You will not be ignored, even incidentally. With a pinch of my plumping chest and a slap to my gut, you rouse me from my stupor without breaking step, moving into the bedroom. 

“Come on, pet. Once you’re done there, mommy will help you into bed, my tubby lil puppy.” 

I’m used to being “pig”, but from my panting and drooling, “puppy” isn’t too far off, either. I resume gorging with renewed vigor, belching as I wobble to my feet and plod after you, obscenely full but too greedy for your body to stay pinned to the couch.

I enter the bedroom, already winded, to find you laying on the bed, idly picking through a box of donuts. My stomach tightens, anticipating another stuffing so soon after a massive binge. 

You take a bite. And then another. You beckon me over. I’m safe, aren’t I? These donuts must be for you. Thank god. Maybe you were feeling extra merciful today? That’s what I tell myself to still my heart as I stumble to the mattress, though it’s still beating wildly from the exertion of leaving the couch. Pathetic.

“Closer, pet. Can you tell that mommy has been working so hard at the gym? I think I deserve a treat. We both do. My thighs are so much thicker, more powerful, don’t you think, puppy?”

You spread your legs enticingly, your tongue teasing the glaze off another donut.

“Haul that fat ass of yours onto the bed, tubby. Tell me how much you love my body. Show me your devotion, and I might let you find a little release…”

My body sways and jiggles as I pull myself on top of the mattress, and my muscles burn from the effort. This is one of the many simple tasks that I’ve become unused to performing unassisted. You’ve really spoiled me.

I crawl toward you, belly sagging into the sheets, and you slide your leg along the hanging rolls until your toes teases my fupa. My cock is already leaking from within from such slight contact.

“No hands. You’re not allowed that, not yet. So why don’t you use mommy’s thigh? Show me how much you love my body.”

Chins bunch at the base of my neck as I strain to look down, attempting to position myself over your leg. I give up after a few weak grunts, and I let my blubbery body crash onto you, gasping as I feel my fupa squish against your thigh and send my pathetic cock into weak spasms as it forces itself out of my fat pad. My sluggish brain wonders how much longer I can manage even this, how much longer I’ll have these few, usable inches, but as I begin to grind against your soft, strong thigh, I become incapable of thought. Just a dumb, drooling animal chasing its next orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

I half whisper and half wheeze, my body shuddering with pleasure and sending ripples through my pudgy frame. 

“I love your body, I’m addicted to it. How do you think I became such a big, gluttonous boy? I eat and eat and eat for you, for a chance like this. Even a second of touching you makes every pound so fucking worth it!”

My rhythm builds into a frenzy. I doubt I’d be capable of even this amount of motion if you hadn’t insisted I stay just a tiny bit active. I burned with embarrassment every time I waddled into the gym, knowing I had only gotten fatter since the last visit, but my suffering was not without purpose. Maintaining a fraction of my stamina was reward enough for me. I reach down and shake your thigh, feeling it jiggle against my cock.

“Thank you for letting such a pathetic glutton worship you! You could have anyone you wanted in your bed, and you still choose me. Who could resist all your curves?”

I half-collapse on top of you as I greedily nuzzle your breasts, kissing and nipping at their plump; indulgent flesh.

“Every inch of you is divine! I could just tear your clothes right off…”

As if I hadn’t already tried. Between pants and burps, a sign that my last binge ended only minutes ago, I’d been pawing at your skin tight gym outfit, but my plump fingers had become so clumsy, and the throbbing in my fupa was far too distracting. 

“It’s not just your heavy tits and thick thighs and round belly. Your sweet face… those eyes… that hunger in them has me hypnotized. One look, and anyone would let you plump them up into another one of your pudgy pets!”

I let out a long, low whine broken only by a sheepish belch. I can feel my brain turning to mush as I edge ever closer to my climax. I mumble and groan as my plummeting intelligence strains to string together one single thought. In your infinite mercy, you rescue me from the burden of thinking.

“Enough talking, my eager little pup. You’ve been so good, and now it’s time for your reward.”

I grind more frantically, pushing my body to the limits, teetering on the brink of orgasm or exhaustion, my ruined stamina stretched to its limits. I’m ready to cum. I finally earned release..

You draw back your leg, letting my cock slide against its length. I whimper and collapse onto the bed, writhing into the sheets and desperate for more stimulation.

“I need one more thing from my most obedient pet…”

You extend your leg, allowing me to mount you again, but at a price. You dangle a single donut in front of me, and despite being full to the brim, despite knowing each new pound deepens my dependence on you, I drool like a fucking dog. I open my mouth.

I should have known the rest were meant for me.

I keep humping.

I keep eating.

wow turns out all you have to do is tell this guy he can’t touch his dick and he’ll write you full on erotica ���

kinda pathetic, don’t you think? 🤭🤭

[starrvsn]

` ִ ꔫ ۫ ⊹ D.HUME ࣪ ˖ VICTORY BLISS.

﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚

PAIRING ⠆don hume x fem!reader.

CATEGORIES ⠆fluff!, lil bit of angst- drama for no reason.. for the plot HAHA, shy!don, slight ooc with the boys, don going through it, the reader is lovely i swear, the guys being the #1 supporters of don, bobby being his #1 protector, sassy!bobby, bobby’s kinda mean in this but he means well i swear!

WORD COUNT ⠆4,613 (fun!)

star left a message! this was actually my first draft i had of don and i finally came around to finishing it! this came out much longer than i expected but i hope you enjoy~!

𝟒𝟏𝟏. don finally garners the courage to ask out the girl he's had his eyes on since the beginning of the semester.

"don! hey! so how you gon' celebrate?" bobby calls, jogging up next to him. the faint sounds of the other guys’ voices behind them, they had just come back from germany and all still high from the victory bliss. don had just gotten over a horrible fever, thanks to the guys he didn't think he'd be able to row– and be there when winning gold. now that it's over, they want to celebrate as much as they can, take advantage of a golden opportunity.

"er, not sure— sleep it off maybe." don utters, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walk further onto campus— towards their dorms, completely exhausted from traveling. the fact that they won olympic gold hadn't hit him yet and with their victory banquet in a few days time, maybe it would hit him then. the shorter man scoffs jumping in front of the taller, stopping him abruptly in his tracks.

"oh come on don, you gotta celebrate! you know soon enough girls are gonna be at your feet." bobby attests, arms flailing about in attempt to prove his point. don finds it almost comedic at how desperately bobby is trying to get through him, trying to hold back his laugh— he lets out "so?"

bobby squints his eyes looking a don incredulously "so? this time right now is your best shot— its now or never."

don could hardly speak to anyone, let alone girls— it became what he was known for. he didn't hate it because it was true, there was no room to deny it— it was just easier to manage, less to worry about but he could see where bobby was getting at, finally the narrative of seizing the moment getting through his thick skull after the many attempts of the team encouraging him to talk to girls more, so maybe this was it.

“i-i’ll think about it.” don nods, almost unsure of himself, he wasn't sure if he was saying it to satisfy his friend or to give himself some sort of encouragement. digging his hands deeper into his pants pockets. bobby’s face softens and he gives the taller male an optimistic smile, patting him encouragingly on his arm before joining the rest of the group. don heaves a sigh before continuing — his thoughts weigh his options for the rest of his walk to the dorms.

don mulls over what do over the course of a few days, with their banquet in a few days he knew had to do something soon. he had many ideas but one just kept coming back to him so he is putting all his chips in on this, hoping he doesn’t crash and burn.

don was nervous, he tossed and turned in bed just thinking about this. his heart beating loudly in his ears and almost out of his chest— he was sure people in the common room could hear it. he looks down at his feet, counting his steps as he approaches your table—trying not vomit from how on edge he was feeling. the words from bobby echoing in his head "this time is your best shot—its now or never."

taking a deep breath, he takes his gaze from his shoes to you. words couldn't describe how you looked, the sunlight peering through the window reflecting beautifully on your features making you look ethereal. he was enamored.

you were in the same physics lecture, you always sat two rows in front of him. he would catch himself drifting his eyes to the back of you head when the lecture got boring or when you turned to talk to your classmate, showing him your pretty side profile. he knew he was infatuated when you were paired during a lab and while don barely spoke– not even introducing himself. you were polite, nice and smart, a perfect trifecta. you always knew what to say and was so patient with him when you had asked him something and he didn’t respond right away. most times when he wouldn’t respond, people would get impatient or just brush him off; ignoring him completely. it was nice for someone to treat him with respect besides the guys on crew for a change.

breaking from his reverie, he realizes he’s stood before your table longer than he initially wanted to and yet you still haven’t noticed, to absorbed in your studies. don almost feels bad for interrupting and the thought of him just walking away and trying again some other day— or never crosses his mind but before he can even make up his mind, you finally notice.

"don! hi!" a soft smile peering at your lips as you stop writing, looking up at him. don's eyebrows jump in surprise, taken aback that you know him. a lump forms in his throat unsure what to say, awkwardly avoiding your gaze.

"yo-you know me?" letting his thoughts continue the conversation. he watches as you laugh- shaking your head for a moment before collecting yourself.

"it's hard to not know the stroke that won us a gold medal." you respond, voice laced with praise.

dons hand shoots up to the nape of his neck, flustered. "well i wouldn't say it was just me, it was all of us." he immediately denies, a faint blush glowing on his cheeks.

“i must give credit where it’s do, i mean you guys must’ve been amazing! well from what i heard on the radio at least.” you boast. his heart swells with pride hearing you sound so elated with how well they did— how well he did, in berlin. he felt his heart swell as you told him. his mouth runs dry as he tries to find the right words to continue the conversation and he kind of kicks himself for letting silence fall between the two of you. you speak up insisting you join him at your table, closing your books and putting them aside. he sits across from you, taking in your features that he thought about from time to time when he was away. you scoot you chair further in, knocking your foot against his, a shock coursing through him– no has ever made him feel this way.

“tell me about berlin, i heard you were feeling under the weather over there.” you start, quirking your head in curiosity awaiting his response. clearing his throat, don gathers his words.

“uh— yeah, it was an otherworldly experience. i never been out of country, out of state even but it was definitely different. an experience i would never forget” you can see his face brighten from talking about it, he speaks so descriptively about his time there it feel like you were there with him. “i was sick with some kind of bug. it was a grueling few days but was worth it after winning. it was amazing! i would do it all again if i had to.” you offhandedly realize that this was probably the most you’ve ever heard him speak and you find him so endearing as he spoke, he was so expressive when he was talking about something he was so passionate about and you loved it. you watch as he goes on about the olympics and the number of athletes he saw compete, you head rests on your hand watching him with attentive eyes letting him continue with his ventures.

minutes pass from dons tales and he realizes that he got lost in speaking about the olympics and droned on and on about it , he felt selfish for taking such time to talk about the most trivial of things— or so he thought.

“'m so sorry, i must’ve talked your ear off.” don cuts in the middle of a story he was telling, as he realized what he was doing. feeling guilty as he casts his eyes to his hands, falling quiet again. what he doesn't see is the small frown that casts on your face, your heart pangs at the thought of him thinking that what he was talking about wasn’t important, looking so dejected. a moment passes as he fiddles with his hands then he sees your hand coming into view clasping his. he raised his gaze and he sees you looking at him with a comforting smile smile.

“it’s okay, i like hearing your voice. i could listen to you talk all day” the compliment was simple but made his heart skip a beat. it’s now or never don gulps, his calloused hand encasing yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, you can tell he has something on his mind and he could take all the time in the world to say it and you would wait. “would you want to come to the victory banquet with me? it's in a few days.” his voice is timid and small, if the room was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear what he said.

you face brightens at his proposal, accepting without a moment passing “i would love to.”

the next few days passes with a blur as don and the rest of the team were whisked away to do interviews and photoshoots on their ground breaking win. it all happened so fast and before they knew it; it was already the night of the banquet.

you had promised don you’d meet outside of your dormitory so you could walk together to the hall. he gets there a bit earlier than you were promised to meet, he was nervous— maybe that being the reason he didn't want to be late and have you waiting outside for him. a cool summer breeze passing through as he leans against the brick ledge accenting the dorm building, soon moments turn into minutes and it crosses don's mind that you might have stood him up.

the thought makes him feel hopeless, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his art deco watch- a gift from coach ulbrickson, it was 6:40. 10 minutes had passed since your agreed meeting time. soon 10 turns into 20, he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but you made him feel like a fool— embarrassed that he stood outside of the girls dormitory looking like some kind of perv. he rubs the back of his neck in frustration as he pushes himself off the brick wall, ready to leave. a part of him wants to wait— the part of him that hopes you lost track of time and were rushing out to him but to no avail. even in the moment more he waits, he ends up leaving with his heart heavy and pride wounded.

he thought you weren't like the rest. he was so sure you were different from the people who gave him odd looks or comments on how quiet he was. it makes him wonder if you even meant anything in the library that day, weighing heavy on his mind as he walks to the banquet, alone and dejected.

don was acting quieter than usual.

which, for anyone who wasn't close with don wouldn't have noticed but the guys on crew— who he spent almost everyday with, noticed. it was abundantly clear as they sat around the table at the banquet enjoying their dinner. usually don would laugh along with the jokes being made, react to when someone was telling a story— it was a small tells that he was having a good time but there was none of that. he sat in his seat— eyes casted down on his plate, pushing around his peas. there was something obviously on his mind; the guys could tell. they pass knowing glances around each other, unanimously decided they just had to know what was wrong.

"hey don, you okay?" joe speaks up besides don. he has a blank stare down his plate, lost in his thoughts not paying attention to the current conversation at hand. "don?" joe calls again, nudging his arm against don's, snapping him from his reverie. looking over at joe like a deer caught in headlights.

"i said are you okay?" joe repeats himself, his mates looking at him with concerning gazes awaiting his answer.

"hm, yeah— 'm fine." don lamented, sounding like he was more trying to convince himself rather than his friends. they had wondered where he was before the banquet started and didn't see him until the dinner. bobby raises his worry for don, the other boys agreeing. don continues to deny but they weren't going to let it go. he should be enjoying winning gold at the olympics, something never done before in UW history— they didn't want whatever was on his mind to hinder that.

"come on don, you can trust us— whatever it is we'll understand, even give you advice if you need." roger speaks up this time, his voice laced with comfort. as much as the guys teased and joked, they truly cared about each other— after all the hardships they went through together, they stuck close. the quieter male was heavy with emotion and with a lot of his mind. he confines in them, a reluctant sigh passing through him as he tells them— he wonders what went through your head the day he spoke to you and the days leading up to tonight. he was excited to see you again, talk to you, get to know you even better but it was all thrown out the window when you flaked on him. don tries to not miss any details and by the end of his explanation, the boys were feeling a mix of emotions. some felt bad that don went through all that— going out of his element to ask out a girl he was interested in and other were upset that you'd have the balls to stand up someone with the purest intentions. it's hard to dislike someone who you've never met but after hearing what was weighing heavy on don's mind, bobby had made up his mind that he didn't like you. though he would never tell don but if he were to ever come across you, he'd be sure to give you a piece of his mind.

don doesn't see you as the days pass.

he continued to wonder how you were, what you could be going through. he couldn't bare the thought of something bad happening to you and as much as the guys tried to steer him away; his mind always came back to you. practice helps him take his mind of you for a few hours, he knew better than to slip up during their practices— their tireless efforts to get better never ceasing even after their win.

it was around evening time when practice ends. they’re tired; mentally and physically— it’s been a rough week in general. the last thing don expects is you standing at the entrance of the shell house, rocking on your heels. don stops dead in his tracks, his jaw slacks and heart drops. he doesn't notice bobby almost bumping into his whilst walking closely to catch up to him.

huffing, bobby was about to ask him what was the matter when he follows the line of sight of his friend, before either two of them could say anything— bobby is trudging towards you, don just letting him go, still shocked.

"are you y/n?" a man with cloudy blue eyes glares at you, he stands square; inches away from you. his presence intimidates you— you glower under his gaze unable to stand your ground. you can barely speak up against him.

"y-yes, is don around?" your eyes wander behind him and you see don standing a few feet back. you try to move around the man in front of you but he stops you.

"who the hell do you think you are huh?" he accuses, leaving no room for you to respond as he begins again "you charmed don and lead him on— you made him get his hopes up! you know i'm the one that encouraged him to take advantage of this *pure winners bliss* but you just had to come around and screw it up huh? made his biggest fear come true and for what—? to make don the laughing stock for your friends? he had the best intentions you know, all he wanted was for you to give him a chance and it was just flushed down the drain!” the man was fuming, unable to keep his voice level as his emotions got the best of him. soon the guys who were still getting dressed peeked out to see what all the commotion was about. a heavy silence falls between the two of you, tensions high. you feel small in front of him as he berated you about what happened with don. your eyes cast down, wringing your fingers as you tried to compose yourself.

don heard everything, watched as bobby yelled at you for everyone to hear— he should've stopped him, stopped him from even approaching you in the first place but he couldn't, he froze in his spot the second he saw you, he felt *awful*— what happened a few days ago on the back burner. it wasn't until it was over don suddenly gained feeling in his legs again. he hadn't felt this nervous since their race in the olympics. as he nears the two of you he hears you speak up. voice small and meek.

"i deserved that."

their coxswain huffs– brows furrowed “you know what you don’t deserve? his forgiveness because—“

“that’s enough bobby.” don rests his hand on his friends shoulder, motioning for him to go. bobby was hesitant but reluctantly, he leaves but not before giving you another glare. that leaves you with don, the resting frown on his face as he looks at you– you avoid his eyes, sheepish and feeling embarrassed for what happened. you didn't even know how to begin, you weren't sure if he would even listen to you, give you the time of day but you wouldn't know unless you tried.

“don i–“

“let’s take a walk hm?” he starts past you before you have a chance to reply, following after him as he walks down the port. there’s knots piling in his stomach as he walked ahead, his fists balled so tight in his pockets they began to feel numb, he had no idea how to go about this. he wasn’t even sure if he was ready to forgive you— but after seeing you get yelled at and berated by bobby, something inside him felt off. he couldn’t stay mad at you forever, the least he could do is hear you out.

the water splashing against the wooden beams of the deck fills the silence as don stops at the end, his back facing you. hands stuffed in his pockets and heart heavy. he didn’t say anything as moments pass so you take it as your cue to speak.

“don… i know i have no place in apologizing but i’m sorry and i understand if you never want to talk to me or forgive me for what i did” you pause for moment, watching his back– waiting for him to say something but you’re met with silence so you continue.

“i-i really wanted to go with you, i did! i was looking forward to it all week… i had a dressed picked out and everything! but when the day came—" you fault for a moment, your hands fiddling with your sleeves. eyes cast down "m-my parents called and my sister got into an accident… i went home for a couple of days and the whole time i was there; i just felt horrible for leaving you, and knowing how much i hurt you. i would make it up to you any way i can if you let me…”

the silence was deafening, you try your best from losing composure and crying on the spot. overcome with emotion— the silence was killing you as you waited for don to say something, anything— he could tell you he didn’t want to see you ever again and that would be enough for you.

"is your sister alright?" you let out a sound of surprise when he asked, doe eyes looking at him. he’s turned around now– the sun setting a glow that illuminates against his figure. you eyes focus on his face, nose slightly red from the cold.

"yes, she's perfectly fine now." you nod, wringing your hands. tears threatening to spill as you look at him.

don turns to look at you with a mix of emotions, his eyes filled with hurt and longing. you can see the conflict in his expression as he tries to process what you've said. after a moment of silence, he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance between you.

“you really hurt me you know.” he utters, voice fragile.

“yes and i would do anything to remedy that—” you’re desperate for his forgiveness, your voice sounding aspirated as you tell him. you’d go to the ends of the earth just for him to forgive you.

“and yet no matter how much i felt hurt by you, i couldn’t get you out of my mind.” he confesses, his voice soft and vulnerable. "i was angry and disappointed, but deep down, i still cared about you."

tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his words. the weight of the misunderstandings and missed opportunities of that day feels heavy on your shoulders. you reach out and gently take don's hands in yours, holding them tightly.

"i'm so sorry, don," you whisper, your voice filled with remorse. "i never meant to hurt you, i should’ve told you somehow… i’ve never regretted anything more in my life.”

don's grip on your hands tightens as the other dabs at the tears that fallen on your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours.“i’ve never felt this way about anyone y/n, i hope you realize. you plague my mind day and night, these past few days where i was supposed to be upset with you; i was worrying if something bad happened, how you were feeling, what you were thinking.” he confesses, sorrow and regret lacing his voice “i thought what happened that day would make me loathe and resent you for hurting me… but i could never hate you, i can’t let what happened define our relationship.”

you look up at him with a glimmer of hope. you watch as he takes a deep breath, standing ever so closely.

“i want us to start again.” dons eyes shine a soft amber as he looks down at you, the sun encasing his features with a soft glow. illuminating the freckles that litter his face; imitating a galaxy of stars. he’s a dream come true.

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you feel a sense of relief wash over you. his expression softens as he sees the smile he’s come to adore so much, the tension that had been building between you starts to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and comfort.

“i promise, i will never hurt you like that ever again.” you say, your voice filled with earnest. don feels as if hes back in the common room with you, talking to you for the first time. he’s lovestruck and there was nothing that could happen that would get rid of it. he’s sure you’ll never do anything to break his trust again, your devotion now so clear to him.

“i know.” a crooked grin plastered on his lips, his arms wrapping around you in a soft but tight embrace. as if he were to let go you’d be gone again. he felt content, all the stresses from the week leaving him as he’s in your arms. a feeling he will never tire of.

“so how should we properly start again?” you breathed, your face incredibly close to dons. a soft flush crawling on your neck as you flicker from his lips to his eyes, him doing the same. it feels as if time stops as you share this moment together, drawing closer until your lips touch. the kiss is slow and tender— moving slowly as he relished on the way your lips feel on his. they’re soft and plush, fitting perfectly against his, like a breath of fresh air. he thought about what it would feel like to kiss you but nothing could compare his thoughts to the real thing. it was just you and him. his his hands rest against on your hips pulling you flush against him, your arms around his neck as he slightly dips you back. passion growing ever so slowly as he continues to kiss you, his kisses becoming more heated, the addictive feeling of your lips on his. he couldn’t get enough of you.

you break away from him reluctantly, mirrored heavy breaths as you look at each other with affectionate gazes. he clears his throat, composing himself. he pushes your hips back to create space between you. trying to fight the nerving urge to kiss you again as he looked at your rose tinted lips.

“i propose we properly take advantage of this winners bliss everyone keeps talking about.” a giggle escapes you as you embrace him again, this time he twirls you, in your own little world—happy with a profound adoration for each other. the sun setting behind you, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

the fact they won gold really hitting him now, considering he had a win of his own.

bonus.

“bobby! what could i do for you?” your brows jump in surprise as you look up from the book you’re reading, you had thought it was don since the spot you were in wasn’t as well known, the last person you expected to see was bobby.

“i just wanted to apologize about what happened… a week ago.” he trails off, looking sheepish in front of you. a stark contrast to the man that defended his friend so willingly against you.

“did don send you here?” you tease, a playful smile on your lips. bobby huffs, denying immediately. no, don did not send him to apologize. he came on his own accord, after what happened that evening. don was lovesick the moment he entered the dorms and bobby felt terrible for what he had did, even if he thought you deserved it at the time. he knows now that you make his friend happy and that’s all he cared about.

“don’t worry bobby, i forgive you. i needed that berating, i deserved it. you’re a really good friend to don you know.” you state matter-a-factly. looking at him with appreciation, bobby’s chest puffs at your praise. he crosses his arms over his chest, proud.

“oh i know, i was the one who encouraged him to go for it remember?” you laugh, nodding.

you guess you have bobby to thank for this, you'd have to mention this to don later... speaking of you'd have to tell you're friends about your new lover... speaking of friends:

“hey you’re not seeing anyone by chance?” you suddenly ask, bobby falters—taken aback from your question.

“uh, no. why?” he responded, his head quirking in curiosity from the sudden and a bit uncalled for question.

“no reason, i just feel like a friend of mine would really like you.” you shrug, returning to your book. bobby takes the book from your hands, resting it on the table.

he takes a seat across from you, his hands laced together. as if in a business meeting “say no more, what’s her name?”

he’s all in.

(this is how you and bobby became bffs btw.)

stars ending-ment! i honestly love how this came out and omg is this a segway to a bobby fic????? who knows... it could be hehe. (lmk if you guys would want that lol)

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Punching bag

A/N: Well, I am channeling my frustration for the day into this fic, similar to Y/N channeling hers to our favourite boy. Enjoy!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut. Tony being the best boyfriend.

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

“You can take it out on me.”

He had said, sensing your crabby mood as you threw your gym bag angrily against the bench, letting out a huff. As tempting as the offer was, it wasn’t fair to channel your anger towards your boyfriend as he wasn’t the source.

So you stuck to your trusted punching bag. It worked, for a while. Soon you felt your anger return and the poor punching bag threatened to give way. You needed to blow off some steam before you could face the world today.

Finding Tony in the boxing ring with Happy, you waited for him to be done, trying your best take a few cleansing breaths in attempts to calm down. Your gaze was fixed on the floor when you realised he had sent Happy away and was kneeling in front of you with worried eyes.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. Fancy a match?” He suggested, pulling you in the ring when you didn’t protest.

After a few rounds, you weren’t feeling it and he picked it up, like he always did. He was too sharp. That is when he suggested you take your frustration out on him.

The kiss you shared was all teeth and tongue as your lips crashed together, the intensity took him by surprise but he welcomed it. Letting you take the lead, Tony laid back against the soft padded floor and took you with him.

Straddling his lap, you began grinding your hips against his crotch, feeling him getting hard under you and your lips trailed down his stubbled jaw. Tony gripped your hips to encourage your movements, matching your intensity but silently letting you know that you were the boss.

Your body ignited with desire, flushing out the anger that was boiling just minutes ago and you craved his touch, you needed this and were glad he was willing to give you everything. In a flurry of movement, you discarded your sweats but kept your panties on, using the friction in your favour until his cock was straining against his sweatpants, eager to serve you.

Little pants and moans left Tony’s lips as you freed him and gave him a few pumps with your hand before sliding your underwear to a side to gather your wetness on his tip.

You let out a hiss as you sank down on his ample length, letting the stretch that bordered on pain take over, you really needed this. Wasting no time, you began moving your hips while anchoring your hands on his shoulders, letting him kiss your neck with wanton need.

Tony’s cock brushed all the right spots inside your tight heat while his lips attacked your sweaty skin, fuelling the fire that now burned deep within. You weren’t too far along as your ministrations continued, making your legs twitch signalling him that you were getting there.

“That’s it, baby. Take what’s yours.”

His words spurred you on, making you push him onto his back and ride him harder than before. Tony’s lust blown eyes watched as you brought yourself closer to the edge, aiding you by meeting your thrusts halfway, squeezing your sides before bringing a hand to your bundle of nerves.

“I’m close, Tony..” you whispered, your eyes shut in pleasure as you felt him rub your clit just the way you liked, bringing you right where you wanted to be. Your muscles clenched as did your walls, making him grunt. On days like these, bringing you pleasure was what satisfied Tony.

You came with a loud cry, your legs shaking as you gushed over his length before falling against him, your heart hammering inside your chest. Watching you come undone was probably one of his favourite visuals. He smiled as he caressed your back, littering your face with soft kisses as you floated back to reality.

“I think you might be my favourite punching bag.” You grinned, placing a soft kiss against his lips.

“Honey, you can use me whenever you want. I’m all yours to relish and ruin.”

[centrally-unplanned]

Alright, last Current Events Drama post, is not a super valuable activity after all. I have seen a lot of Discourse that goes like "I may oppose these efforts but man the PR strategy of this Musk thing is pretty genius, they have a whole generation of people thinking USAID was funding the Liberal Media now". And they certainly aren't without agency, I agree there is an intentional PR strategy going on. In particular it is not just the creation of narrative, but the creation of momentum - every day is a new discovery, a new victory, a sense of progress.

But this isn't really that hard when your supporters are just really stupid? Like you can make shit up for these people! They don't care, they don't have that instinct that goes "okay hold up I'm going to need to see some sources here". The current Admin didn't make that happen, that is a deep, structural change around the internet flattening hierarchies and all that shit. When you know your audience wants results and also you can just invent results out of thin air then, idk, is this that hard? How could you not deliver that?

It is funny because the actual playbook here isn't even their invention, it is the same as the 2010's "Woke Boom". That entire model was that deep, slow, technical solutions to structural inequalities achieved via grinding electoral politics is boring. That shit is for fucking losers. I am not gonna have a role in that all! So instead we will achieve social change via randomly harassing my progressive coworkers for their black comedy tweets about AIDS until they get fired and have a nervous breakdown. Obviously - just like with the current right, don't be tricked! - there was another side of this movement that was much more serious, a huge side actually (we are just focusing right now). But for so many that serious side was window dressing, the real mush was that you got to feel like you were a part of something, doing something, and at a certain point they started running the show. This playbook being reversed really isn't that impressive (and also, in a sense, inevitable)

I will give the Social Justice aggros though that they had some standards - passing around photoshopped tweets was uncommon. Most of them did actually believe in this model for change (and so invented insane ideologies to justify it, but w/e). That isn't really as true on the right - I should partially walk back my statement above, a lot of these people aren't that gullible? They are just apathetic. So many people retweeting stuff about how The Deep State funnels millions to Politico don't really even care, for them it is a game. It is funny to own the libs. They laugh off your attempts at calling them out for accuracy - you care about that? What a cuck you are.

Which makes it particularly sad when you see the earnest ones, the ones writing essays about the implications of what USAID propping up the New York Times means for our political future. Nothing worse than being a true believer in a church where not only the leaders but also your fellow congregants know it is bullshit.

It reminds me of the Gamestop Meme Stock Crash and its slow, agonizing burn (a not unrelated event!). A bunch of people on the rise of the stock created the idea that buying Gamestop could Stick It To The Man, you could short squeeze the hedge funds, diamond-hands-hold that yield, bring Wall St to its knees - to the moon, baby. And some people bought it! And then the wheel turned, the crash happened, and most of the people posting those memes sold their stock and dipped so fast they had disappeared from the subreddits before they could even begin to say "bro, you thought I was serious?". Leaving a stalwart few holding the bag, spinning epicycles of conspiracy theories to justify why they had it to begin with. Which happens on autopilot a this point. You don't really need any PR strategy to make this happen.

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴇʀʏ'ꜱ Qᴜᴀʀʀᴇʟ ᴀᴛ ᴅʀɪꜰᴛᴍᴀʀᴋ. ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴘꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴛᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ.

Warnings: Aegon being Aegon, Canon events surrounding Aemond's 13th birthday, and the Madame (no explicit details.)

129 AC

The ocean water is warm today. It foams up as it crashes onto the shore where she stands barefooted. Today is a day full of uncertainties and untameable nerves. Today is the day she wil claim a dragon. 

“You will become sick standing in the sea like that.” Jace says

"The ocean is warmer here on Dragonstone than on Driftmark." Rhaella says, dismissing his concerns.

"Are you excited?" He asks, standing beside her, letting the ocean wash over his boots.

"I am nervous. Sona has never been claimed before." She sighs

"I am sure you will be able to do it," Jace assures her

"That is easy for you to say, Vermax hatched while you were still a babe." She sighs

"All true Targrayens are dragon riders. I will not see one of my children remain dragonless."

Rhaella whips around to see Daemon approaching. He is relentless in his father-daughter bonding attempts.

"Jacaerys, your mother wishes to see you." Daemon says

Rhaella ignores how he stands next to her after her cousin has left the beach. Waves crash against rocks as her eyes remain fixed on the horizon.

"This silent treatment is becoming old. You are ten and four, you're no longer a child." He reminds her

"What does Rhaena think of me doing this?" She asks, ignoring his comment, "Of me trying to claim a dragon before her?"

"Her thoughts are not important....Sona has rejected her attempts before." Daemon says, "This dragon is for you, Rhaella, no one else."

Daemon's words are touching. Their relationship is still a rocky one though. The past three years have been spent with him flying between Dragonstone and Driftmark. After his marriage to Rhaenrya she had expected that he'd abandon her, Baela and Rhaena. And yet, every few weeks he'd show up on the shore with Caraxes at his side. He'd spend time with her younger sisters and then come barging into her room as though he owned the entire castle. It had taken many moons for them to have a fully civil conversation devoid of yelling and rude comments but eventually, they formed a sort of friendship. That of course did not mean they got along, just that she had come to tolerate him since he seemed intent on not leaving her life.

"The Dragonkeepers say that it is best to approach Sōna now. She enjoys afternoon naps and will become angry if we disturb her later in the day." Daemon says

Sōna's lair is darker than any night sky Rhaella has ever seen. Water drips from somewhere as she points the torch in front of her, trying to see where the dragon might be. Gods, she hoped she was not about to be eaten.

Another 50 paces into the cave and Rhaella is beginning to think the Dragonkeepers have lied about this dragon existing at all. The dampness of the cave is beginning to seep into her bones, she swears every hair on her body has stood up on alert.

And then there is a glitter of white meeting her eyes, the fire that barely illuminates a few steps in front of her has reached something magnificent.

Sōna's brilliant blue eyes are staring at her. Rhaella is looking into the eyes of a dragon. A shiver snakes through her body as she maintains eye contact and slowly drops the torch.

"Zaldrīzes rȳbus, lo mērī udrirzi Valyrio eglio ȳdrassua"

Daemon's last words before she had entered this lair echo in her mind.

A dragon only listens if you speak in High Valyrian.

She finds herself unsure of what to do now, so she speaks and prays to every god there is that this beast does not open her mouth to burn her alive.

"Iksā gevie." She says slowly, "Eman dreamed hen ao syt ñuha giez ābrar.

You are beautiful. I have dreamed of you for my whole life.

Sōna lets out a deep rumble and Rhaella is unsure about the dragon's thoughts on her compliment.

She slowly begins to move towards the side of Sōna's head. The dragon lets out another grumble as she draws close.

"lykirī. Iksan daor kesīr naejot ōdrikagon ao."

Calm down. I am not here to hurt you.

Rhaella's heartbeat pounds in her ears as her hand touches Sona's rough skin.

"Kesi sagon rōvēgrie raqirossa, Sōna. Mazeminna care hen ao lo ao ivestragī nyke claim ao"

We will be great friends, Sōna. I will take care of you if you let me claim you.

Rhaella gently runs her bare hand along Sōna's jawline. The dragon lets out a sharp sound, almost like a trill of sorts. Rhaella smiles as Sōna lets her continue. Has she truly done it? Has she truly claimed a dragon of her own?

Sōna lets out another gurgle before pushing her head further into Rhaella's waiting arms.

"Sir iksi hēnkirī ēva morghon ñuha riña. Nyke kivio naejot gaomagon ao ȳgha"

Now we are together until death, my girl. I promise to keep you safe.

Her voice is no more than a whisper into the cave but the dragon hears it all the same. Rhaella cannot help the wide smile that stretches across her face when her dragon lets out a noise of agreement.

"The winter snow reaches out and claims a woman. Black banners rise behind them. Green rises to meet the snow."

Aemond is unsure what to make of his sister's words. He had come to her room to play with his little niece and nephew who are learning how to stand on their own. They babble with happiness when he shakes a wooden dragon in their faces.

"The snow will meet green over fields of fire and blood," Heleana says, not bothering to look up from her needlework.

"They are growing quickly." Aemond says, hoping to turn the conversation to something more lucid and interesting for him

"They eat often. The boy more than the girl." Heleana says to him

"You will sit the Iron Throne one day, Jaehaerys," Aemond says to the baby who grabs at his hand and attempts to place it in his mouth

Aemond smiles down at his nephew and niece, they are two of the few living beings in this castle that do not fear him.

The castle is bustling with life, as it often does during the day. Maids scurry about, cleaning, and rat catchers lead their dogs about the halls. The feel of his practice sword in its sheath is a familiar one as he makes his way toward where Cole awaits him in the training grounds. Normally he'd try to rouse Aegon from his sleep but it had been weeks since he had successfully dragged his older brother from bed to train.

The clashing of steel is better than any music he's heard as Cole points out how to hold his arms in a way that keeps the sword from being knocked from his hands.

Aemond takes note of how he is rapidly approaching his teacher's height. The top of his head is finally in line with Cole's eyes, just a few more years and he is sure he will outgrow him, after all, he is already a bit taller than Aegon.

"Have you heard the news?" Cole asks in between sips of water from a large flagon that sits nearby.

"What news?" Aemond asks, not recalling anything his mother might have told him this morning at breakfast.

"Word from Dragonstone to the king. Rhaella Targaryen has claimed a dragon." Cole says, "Queen Alicent read it this morning to his grace."

Rhaella had a dragon? Aemond wondered what dragon she might've claimed. He knew there were many unclaimed ones on Dragonstone. He tried to imagine the delicate Rhaella on the back of a beast like Vermithor. It was rather humorous in his mind.

"What dragon has she taken?" Aemond asked

"Your uncle conveniently left that out, my prince," Cole said

Of course, Daemon would leave that out. Aemond had wondered what changed between Rhaella and Daemon. The last time he had spoken to Rhaella she had been deadset on pretending he didn't exist and now he was helping her claim some unnamed dragon. Maybe he ought to write her again. Things had been tense when he hugged her goodbye on Driftmark's shores. Her nose had still been swollen from his punch, which he regrettably had yet to apologize for.

For the first year, they had exchanged many letters, talking of mundane things such as Rhaella's struggle with holding swords upright during her training with the Master of Arms at Driftmark. And how he had discovered that growing up also meant being forced to stand still for measurements to be taken regularly as he was outgrowing all his favorite clothes. Eventually, though, the letters became less frequent and one day stopped entirely. His mother said it was part of growing up and that it was all for the best since she was "separate" from their family. Aemond tried to believe her, he truly did, but at night when he lay in his bed he found himself missing Rhaella's companionship.

"Shall we continue?" Cole asked, snapping him from his thoughts.

Aegon could not believe he left his chamber for this. Surely his bed and cups of wine were better than all of this.

"It is your brother's name day, try to look presentable." His mother had hissed in his ears when she pulled him down the many steps of the Red Keep.

Aegon did not care about Aemond's name day. Why should he care if his brother was ten and three? Aemond was going to have a thousand name days, Aegon didn't see why he should bother himself to be at all of them.

He still could barely believe his Lord Father had been able to plan and attend this family dinner. Viserys had sent the invitations himself, apparently wishing for his family to gather for Aemond's name day. Aegon still thought it was a dull idea.

His eyes scan the dinner table and they land on Princess Rhaenys, or more specifically who was next to her. His Uncle Daemon's three daughters, loud-mouthed as they were, had grown, Aemond's friend most of all. That blue silk dress of hers was doing nothing to hide the curves Aeggon could practically taste from across the table.

"Stop your staring." His...dear Grandsire said, sending a kick to Aegon's shin under the table

Aegon knows he is dense, but even he does not miss they way Aemond's eyes...or well eye...remain fixed on Rhaella through the night. Perhaps he has underestimated his little brother, maybe there is more to him than books and sword training with Cole. Perhaps this was finally a chance for Aegon to introduce Aemond to true fun.

He can feel the smirk stretch across his face as he plans their evening in his mind. Yes, it was finally time to bring Aemond into his world, to show him what other fun there was to be had.

Rhaella has never felt more awkward. When Rhaenys had announced that they would attend a dinner for Aemond's name day at the request of King Viserys, she wished she could be like Lord Corlys, and simply declare she would not go. It was not that she did not want to see Aemond, she just felt distant from him.Perhaps it was the lack of apology for her face or maybe it was the three years that passed since she had chosen Driftmark over him. She swore he was still upset about all of that.

Aemond's eye had been on her the whole night, Rhaella couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

When they had first arrived, Rhaella had sought him out, perhaps it was just a force of habit but she had found herself at his door. When she peered in, she had expected Aemond to look the way he did when she said goodbye to him on the shore of Driftmark, a snot-nosed, one-eyed boy who was begging her to get on the ship or climb aboard his new dragon with him. Instead, she saw an entirely different person. He was sat with a large book. His newly broken voice had filled her ears, he was practicing his Valyrian. His hair was just past his shoulders and Rhaella could tell he had grown significantly in their time apart, surely he was taller than her now. What stuck out to her the most though was his face, it had sharpened and become rather handsome, most of all though, a gleaming sapphire sat where his missing eye used to be.

She wasn't sure why but she slipped away, not bothering to alert him of her presence. Maybe his new appearance had startled her, or hypnotized her, she truly was unsure of it all.

After dinner had concluded, Rhaella tried slipping away, perhaps she'd visit the library, the castle's library had always been far superior to Driftmark's.

"Are you scared of me?"

A foreign voice fills her ears just as she reaches the doors to the library.

"Aemond." She breathes when she turns to face him, his sapphire eye is now covered with a dark leather eyepatch, "Were you following me?"

She did not hear any footsteps but that did not mean it was impossible.

"You did not look at me once during dinner. Nor did you visit when you arrived yesterday. You are avoiding me." He said, his voice had a twinge in it, like his feelings were hurt.

When did he get so observant and bold?

"I was not avoiding you, Aemond." Rhaella said, looking at him.

"Then why leave dinner so quickly, you ran as tough your hair was on fire." He jests

"You..." She decides it is best to be honest with him, "You are making me nervous."

Aemond lets out a snort of laughter.

"Why? Does my appearance frighten you?" He asks, stepping closer to her so they were only an arms length away

"No! No. It is just...different. I was expecting the same boy who cried after I told him that I'd remain in Driftmark. You have grown up, that is all." She explained honestly

"As have you. You are ten and four now, yes?" He asked

"Yes." She said

It was uncanny how he was taller than her now, truly unfair considering he was still younger than her.

"Aemond!"

What did she do to the gods that they were cursing her with Aegon's presence?

"Aemond! Come, the festivities are not over." Aegon declared, wrapping an arm around Aemond's shoulders.

"Hello, Aegon." She greeted

"Yes, hello." Aegon greeted, his eyes briefly scanning her up and down.

"Where are we going? Mother and father have both gone to bed." Aemond asked, confused.

"I am going to show you the world, little brother," Aegon said

Rhaella thought that was a stupid sentence. It sounded like something out of a bad romance story.

"Might we bring Rhaella? I want to speak to her more." Aemond asked

"No." Aegon said immediately

Rhaella glared at him, how dare he say where she could and could not go?

"It is for men only. You are a man now, little brother, or well you will be by the end of the night." Aegon laughed "Come, we're going now."

Rhaella watched as Aegon walked off.

"I am sure he is just taking me to some tavern he likes. It isn't for noble ladies though." Aemond said

"How long will you be gone?" Rhaella asked, suddenly sad that he wasn't going to stay with her.

"Not long. Wait in the library, I'll come to you when we're done." Aemond said before turning, "I want you to tell me about the dragon you have claimed."

Rhaella smiled as she watched Aemond race after his brother, perhaps appearances had changed but he was still the boy she knew, even though years had passed.

Aemond has never felt more unsure of himself. He has spent the last three years creating a person that is untouchable, devoid of weaknesses, and yet his hands are shaking and his mind is racing. Despite the late hour, he sits in a bath that he ordered a maid to draw for him. The soap and soft rag are rubbing his skin raw as he tries to rid himself of the whore's sickly sweet perfume.

Aegon's laughter was ringing in his ears. The way his elder brother had laughed and pointed as her hands had run down his body. She had been soft and warm yet Aemond had not enjoyed any of it. His skin felt like it was crawling when it had ended. Why did Aegon enjoy doing that regularly? Surely acts like that were not worth dedicating entire establishments to.

His hair is sticking to his neck as he sits in the water. Perhaps if he sits here long enough he will be washed away and the memories of tonight will fall away as well. His eye squeezes shut when he recalls the way her voice had sounded in his ears, loud and wonton, almost like the sound of a dying animal.

Fuck. He wished he could take it all back, he should've ignored his brother and just gone to bed, then all would be right and he wouldn't wish to peel his skin from his bones. His skin is red by the time he is done with it all. Surely he has removed the layer that her hands were all over.

He feels dizzy as he forces himself out of the comfort of the bath. He thinks of Rhaella, surely she is not waiting for him still.

Once he is dressed though, his legs lead him to the library anyway. Maybe he is just seeking comfort in familiarity but all he knows is for once in his life, he is not alright with being alone. The library is silent, and very dark when he enters. He nearly turns back to return to his own chamber when a pale flicker of light catches his eye.

A stump of a candle is all that illuminates the scene he finds her in. Her head is resting in her arms as half her body is resting on the table. Her nose is whistling ever so slightly as she sleeps. He quietly sits down next to her, just her presence is enough to calm his racing mind. Her long hair is free from its usual braids and tumbles down her shoulders. It is softer than it looks as he wraps a strand around his finger. His eye examines her face that is just barely illuminated by the candle. Her features had sharpened, just like his had the past three years and Aemond cannot deny that it suits her. Her familiar scent invades his nose as he rests his head on the table to stare at her, he smiles as he thinks of her waking to find him next to her.

"Gevī"

Beautiful

And so we dig into the romance of the story...

Sorry if the Valyrian is wrong, obviously I'm not fluent in it and I used an online translator for this story.

By the way, Sōna means snow in Valyrian. ;)

Next Part

Comment below to join the taglist. (The taglist is not by chapter, once added, you will remain there unless you ask to be removed.)

Taglist:

@caspianobsessed

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@holymusicalmothman

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[saymonsays]

‎2 — Solving for X (and Maybe Love)

‎

pairing: kwon jiyong x reader

ep 1 | | ep 3

‎Summary: She’s a popular girl who hates math. He’s the quiet genius no one notices. When she’s forced to get tutoring—and he’s assigned as her tutor—their worlds crash into each other. She’d rather fail than accept help. He’d rather disappear than be noticed. It’s slow, it’s messy, it’s unspoken—but it’s real. In a classroom full of numbers, they might be solving for something they never expected: each other.

‎‎Tags: slow burn, highschool romance, opposites attract, art vs math, chaotic friendships, banter, wholesome chemistry, just fluff

‎

‎“Things I Can’t Say Out Loud”

‎

‎Empty Classroom – After School

‎

‎You were already at the desk, sketching absentmindedly in your notebook when Jiyong walked in.

‎

‎“Hey,” you said without looking.

‎

‎“Hey,” he echoed, quieter.

‎

‎He sat beside you, pulled out his books like always. But something felt… different. Slower. Warmer.

‎

‎After a few minutes of silent scribbling (you: a cat riding a skateboard, him: formulas), he cleared his throat.

‎

‎“I, uh…” he began.

‎

‎You looked up.

‎

‎“I wanted to say… thank you again. For the hallway. The other day.”

‎

‎You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t we go over this?”

‎

‎“I know. I just… I don’t say stuff like that. Not well.”

‎

‎You looked at him—really looked.

‎He wasn’t just quiet. He was careful. Like he had walls, not because he was cold—but because he’s been let down before.

‎

‎He opened his notebook, hesitated, then turned it toward you.

‎

‎Your eyes widened.

‎

‎There was a drawing on the page.

‎Sort of.

‎

‎It was… an attempt of a flower. Slightly lopsided. The petals were uneven, the stem was kind of a sad line, but the effort was there. Underneath it, in tiny neat letters:

“I tried. For you.”

‎

‎You stared at it. Then at him.

‎

‎“…You tried to draw for me?” you asked slowly.

‎

‎He nodded, not meeting your eyes.

‎

‎You bit your lip—hard—to stop yourself from smiling.

‎

‎“It’s awful,” you said gently.

‎

‎“I know,” he replied.

‎

‎“But it’s also…” You paused. “Kind of everything.”

‎

‎That made him glance up. His ears were red.

‎

‎You carefully tore out the page and tucked it into your sketchbook like it was a museum piece.

‎

‎“I’m keeping this forever.”

‎

‎“You really don’t have to—”

‎

‎“I’m absolutely going to.”

‎

‎And then, silence. The good kind. The kind where you both breathe at the same rhythm, even without meaning to.

‎

‎Jiyong opened his notebook again. Then stopped.

‎

‎“…Can I tell you something?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

‎

‎You turned to him, still holding the drawing like it was sacred. “You just did.”

‎

‎He smiled, just barely.

‎

‎“But yeah,” you added, softer now. “You can.”

‎

‎He looked down at his page, fingers tense.

‎

‎“…Sometimes, I feel like everyone’s talking around me. Not to me. Like I’m… invisible unless they need an answer.”

‎

‎You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you picked up your pen, flipped to a blank page, and drew something fast—simple, clean.

‎

‎It was a boy, hoodie up, surrounded by people. None of them saw him.

‎

‎But in the corner, a girl sat on a table, drawing.

‎And she was looking right at him.

‎

‎You turned the page to show him.

‎

‎“I see you,” you said.

‎

‎And in that moment, Jiyong didn’t need math to understand what that meant.

‎—————

‎School Library – Late Afternoon

‎

‎You weren’t supposed to be here this late.

‎But Saebom got detention (again), and the driver was late, and your phone was at 2%.

‎

‎So you were at your usual table, curled into a corner, sketching a wolf wearing sunglasses.

‎

‎And then—he walked in.

‎

‎Jiyong. Hoodie up, satchel slung across his chest, looking like a stray thought.

‎

‎He spotted you.

‎

‎Paused.

‎

‎You raised a brow. “This seat taken?”

‎

‎He didn’t answer. Just slid into the chair beside you.

‎

‎He smelled like fabric softener and pencil shavings. Familiar now. Comforting.

‎

‎“You draw everywhere,” he said after a while.

‎

‎“I exist everywhere,” you replied.

‎

‎He watched you draw in silence.

‎

‎And then—out of nowhere—he reached into his pencil case and pulled something out.

‎

‎A mechanical pencil.

‎But not just any. It was black and silver, sleek, fancy-looking.

‎

‎He placed it on the table between you.

‎

‎“What’s this?” you asked.

‎

‎“I thought… it might work better than the one you keep chewing on.”

‎

‎You looked at the pencil. Then at him.

‎

‎“…Is this a gift?”

‎

‎“No.”

‎

‎You tilted your head. “Feels like one.”

‎

‎“It’s just… a functional exchange.”

‎

‎You smiled, slow. “Right. Functional.”

‎

‎You picked it up, clicked it once. Twice. The sound filled the silence like thunder.

‎

‎“Don’t lose it,” he muttered.

‎

‎“Why?” you teased. “Is it precious?”

‎

‎He paused. Then, without looking at you:

‎“It was my brother’s.”

‎

‎The world paused.

‎

‎You stopped fidgeting with the pencil.

‎

‎“…You never told me you had a brother.”

‎

‎He nodded. “He’s… not around anymore.”

‎

‎You didn’t push. You didn’t say sorry, because some things don’t need apologies. They just need presence.

‎

‎So instead, you slid your sketchbook toward him.

‎

‎“Draw something.”

‎

‎He blinked. “We already went over this. I can’t draw.”

‎

‎You shrugged. “I still kept the flower, didn’t I?”

‎

‎Reluctantly, he took the pencil. Gripped it awkwardly.

‎

‎Then looked at you. “What should I draw?”

‎

‎You met his gaze.

‎

‎“Whatever you think of… when you think of me.”

‎

‎He froze.

‎

‎Dead silence.

‎Then—you.

‎

‎You felt the air shift. Like the room got smaller, warmer, closer.

‎

‎His eyes flicked down. The pencil started to move.

‎

‎After a minute, he turned the sketchbook back toward you.

‎

‎It was a mess. Scribbly lines. Crooked heart. A vague attempt of… sunglasses?

‎

‎“…Is this the wolf from earlier?” you asked.

‎

‎He nodded. “Cool. Unbothered. Not afraid of anything.”

‎

‎You looked at him.

‎

‎He wasn’t blushing.

‎

‎But he couldn’t meet your eyes, either.

‎

‎Your heart thudded. Loud. Stupid.

‎

‎“Okay,” you said, voice smaller than you meant.

‎

‎You closed the sketchbook, tucking it to your chest like it was gold.

‎

‎And he reached for the pencil—

‎—but you stopped him.

‎

‎“I’m borrowing this,” you said softly. “Indefinitely.”

‎

‎His lips twitched.

‎

‎“I didn’t say you could.”

‎

‎“You didn’t have to.”

‎

‎And for a second—just a second—he looked at you like you were the only thing real in the world.

—

Author's note: sorry this part is kind of short BUT I SWEAR THERE'S ANOTHER PART AFTER THIS LOL this was kind of rushed :')

‎

[sadnightforus]

NEXT LIFE  (JJH)

toxic-boyfriend!jaehyun x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re sick and tired of the on and off relationship you have with your boyfriend. He was a chaos and you were trying to tame it, overtime, it burns you and turns you into someone you don’t recognize. And you decide that you’ll walk out of this, to save both yourself and him.

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

WARNINGS: ghosting, neglectful behaviors, toxic toxic toxic, manipulation, self destructive behaviors on god, this makes my head spin.

A/N: i’m better at long one shot than a full fic. embarrassing. anyway, enjoy this charli xcx crumbs, i love love love next life by her (which is the inspo for this). also super fun fact, I wrote this on March this year and it's October now lol.

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

 You both are at the river side, a popular spot for couples to hang out and strengthen their bonds. For you, it’s very far from the truth that you want to strengthen it, because you know it’s on the verge of falling and there’s no way to stop it from crashing and burning.

 It’s a nice day, you feel content. Or force yourself to feel content with what you have. 

 Then you begin to think far, about how tired you are. How sick you are that your relationship with him played out like this and it never became better as time went by. But in one way or another, you found yourself going back to Jung Jaehyun, no matter what. 

 You think his heart is made of metal, that’s why he doesn’t care to change.

 Love can be so pure, but so poisonous, and you’re on the receiving end of the latter. You can barely recall what love is supposed to be like anymore.

 Loving him is a form of self harm, you convinced. Why does it hurt to walk away even when you need to?

 You’ve always been more than understanding. You understand why people lie. You let people use you and throw you away many times, it’s the same thing with him. Nothing is more addictive than lies that come from his lips such as ‘I love you’ and ‘I’ll never hurt you’ are some of the few. And when he kissed you like he meant it. But you know he was kissing in an attempt to mend the broken heart and only then crushed it with his own hands. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”  You blurt out, in the moment that you both are enjoying the riverside sight after all of the chaos, which earns a confused look from your boyfriend. You stand up, pulling the strap of your bag to stay on your shoulder as Jaehyun does the same. 

“What’s wrong?” He questions, stunned by the sudden change in your behavior that was just sweet moments ago. Despite that, his face never falters from the stoic expression and you find it so hard to read him.

“I want to break up for real. This time.” You breathe out, finding the courage and words that hides itself in the back of your brain, then gazing right into his eyes before continuing. “Thank you for everything. But we shouldn’t do this anymore.” 

 He reaches out to grab your hand, as if a sentiment for you to change your mind. There’s a different sparkling in his eyes, almost like he cares about your departure from his life. He shifts closer, analyzing your body language if you were being honest. “Do you? Do you not wanna do this anymore?” 

“Yes.” You find the courage to speak louder than you had ever been. Maybe it’s a false confidence, but you want to get out of this situation. He makes it so hard with the way he has been giving you those helpless eyes that made you want to rethink everything you’ve said. 

 Except you don’t. 

“But we can try again, can’t we?” He pleads, asking for another chance but you won’t crumble like you had done so in the past. 

“You say that every time, but that’s why this shit dragged on for 5 years! 5 YEARS!” 

 Perhaps your voice will most likely catch the attention of many if it wasn’t for the fact you both are the farthest as you can possibly be from the area where it has a few people. That much of a distance buys both of you the privacy of doing this in public. 

“I’m really sorry…” 

“Do you mean it? Do you mean it when you say you’re sorry?” It sounds condescending, but really it’s not. It almost sounds taunting, but he doesn’t miss the way tears are making its way out of your eyes. “You don't, right? You don’t. You always said sorry but then you’d go back to neglect me then we’ll fight and say it’s my fault. Then we’ll make up and then get along for you to ghost on me again. Tell me, what did I do for me to get that kind of treatment? Do people in relationships do the same thing as we did?” 

 His eyes shift around, uncertain of the outcome, although in his guts, he knows that it’s not as the same as it was before. That thought crashes him. He was overconfident that you would stay and tolerate him forever.

 Maybe he was wrong. 

 You have tried loving him and given him so many chances, but it was never easy– you watched him being self-destructive. Itt was the same old broken song record that you kept trying, hoping that you would be able to fix all of those errors. He was a beautiful chaos, but still a chaos that you needed to get away from.

 And you do indeed need to get away from him, everything has worn you down so much that you barely recognize yourself. You begin to wonder, why did you let him play with your heart this much?

“Are you aware that I’m just a human too? Every time I thought we could just be friends or change into someone better, you turned around and fuck it up. I DON’T GET YOU!” You yell, hot tears streaming down your cheeks due to frustration. “It’s not the first time you made me feel like this. I’m so fucking tired. Do you see how tired I am? DO YOU?!” You try to suppress your cries in an attempt to articulate your thoughts as you search for remorse on Jaehyun’s face. “We went back and forth so many times. My friends watched me bend my back for you, picking you up at the bar just because you fought with someone who ran their mouths. Aren’t you tired?”

“I am.” 

 His answer sounds as worn out as you are. “I’m sick of it too. But what can I do? I’m fucked up on everything. I’m lonely, you were my only hope. When you were gone, I wanted to get your attention and tie you back to me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“As selfish as it is, you were the only person who had your best interest for me.” And he ends it with “I’m sorry that I took advantage of your kindness. I’m too confident that I’ll get back up on my feet and you’ll still be there in the future. But I’m wrong.”

 You’re stunned, so stunned that you held your breath because you can’t believe what he was saying.

 Suddenly, you see the glimpse of the Jung Jaehyun that you fell in love with, before all of these catastrophic events. You wish that he hadn’t changed so much, because it’s too late to back out now.

 You turn around in an attempt to walk away, want to, but a hand stops you.

 “Let go of my hand.” Your voice trembles, betray the confident demeanor you had earlier as you were lashing out. 

“No.” He firmly answers. “If you promise to answer this question, I’ll promise that I’ll let you go.”

“Okay.” You turn back around, dancing him as you take in a look of him one last time, because you might never see him again. You pull your hand out of his grasp, and he doesn’t make a big fuss over it.

“Do you think somewhere in the parallel universe, we’re happily engaged and in love and I’m.. the best person you could ask for?”

“I think so.” You meet his eyes, which are bloodshot red from tearing up by now.

“That’s all.” He nods, biting his upper lips to suppress his cries. “Maybe we’ll be better in our next life.”

“Maybe in our next life, I’d think twice about this.” You sigh, then finally say out the words you want to say the most. “Goodbye, Jaehyun.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

 As you turn around to walk away from the river, heart heavy and body tense, there’s still Jaehyun who stands frozen in the same place since you had left him there.

 His eyes are piercing at your figure that slowly makes its way to slip out further and further from his sight. He wishes he can tell you this one thing.

“Maybe in our next life, there will be no goodbye.”

 But he has to accept that you’re gone, and won’t come back to him anymore.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2024