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#but she didn't need to be manipulated into the position she ends up in idk IDK im so

ahgasegotarmy116 · 5 months

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He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter One

Summary: Life didn't turn out the way you wanted. You got the guy, and the job but everything else you had ever wanted has been crumbling around you. Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: yändere, manipulation, domestic violence, self harm, cheating, explicit language, hints at smut, angst, idk what else lol a/n: Ahh thank you so much for all of the love so far on the intro and even all the notes on the masterlist hehe. I'm really loving the direction this story is going in so I hope you guys will too! And thanks again to @kkusadmirer for the request!

Opening my laptop I pull up the most recent edit I had done on the next chapter I was working on.

I'm a writer, not an incredibly famous one but a writer nonetheless. I make enough to get by and I'm able to work from home so that's all I ever really wanted. Just a silly girl, writing her silly stories, living her silly life.

But unfortunately things don't always turn out the way you want them to.

I thought I had it all, perfect grades and a perfect boyfriend with a loving family and a bright bright future. Now looking back at it all and seeing all of the stuff in the background that I somehow missed just makes me feel foolish.

How could I not notice Taehyung wondering eye? Why did I not listen to what my friends used to say about him? Why did I leave all of my friends behind for him?

Being so wrapped up and so in love with him I didn't even notice the fact that my family was falling apart. My mom cheated on my dad and I never knew until they told me they were getting a divorce.

While my brother was struggling in high school while being around all of their screaming and fighting and finally got committed to a mental institution when he had a psychotic break.

I never knew anything about that. It's not like I didn't care, but I just never really reached out or gave them enough time to reach out to me.

I was always like 'Oh Tae just got home I have to go' or 'Tae is expecting me so I need to get going'. My world has revolved around him for so long that my family and friends feel like strangers.

How could I have been so stupid and neglected them, all for one guy?

The one that I wanted to build a future with and promised to do the same with me. Now here I am, 24 with student loans up to my neck and a sorry excuse for a marriage with a husband that is never home.

I don't know what I managed to do in my past life that ended up royally fucking me up in this one but I'm sorry. Why couldn't I have done better so I would be saved from having my spirit broken and my heart ripped to shreds.

The only positive thing is that this has given me is the inspiration to come up with an even more fucked up series of books that has been my only source of income for the past few years.

Years, wow.

Thinking about how much time has passed and how things went to shit so quickly helped me continue down this downward spiral and I don't know how to make it stop. Although the sound of keys jingling outside the front door is my rude awakening, my brain knowing I need to be conscious of what may happen next.

I quickly wipe off the tears that I didn't even realized had started to fall and clear my throat. Moments later I'm met with the sight of Taehyung walking in wearing the same shirt I had seen him in yesterday but sports a brand new hickey near the collar, just barely noticeable but he makes no effort to hide it.

"Y/n" I hear him call out, breaking me out of my train of thought. "Yes?" I question, hating that I've been caught off guard even though I was staring right at him. "I asked if we have anything to eat" he says, making his way over to the refrigerator, now going to see if he can answer his own question before I'm even given another second to speak up.

"Um yeah I think there's some left over pizza from last night" I say and get up to walk towards him. "So how was work yesterday?" I ask tentatively, still not sure what kind of mood he's in. "Exhausting but it is what it is I guess" he says while stuffing his face full of a cold slice of pepperoni pizza.

I turn to walk away while nodding my head, not bothering to ask anything else since it seems from his vague answers that he's not in the mood to talk.

"Hey" he says, gently grabbing my wrist with the hand that wasn't occupied with the pizza, leaving me frozen in place. I know better than to walk away from him. Even if he's not mad at the moment doesn't mean that he won't be in the next.

"Where are you running off to?" he asks pulling me close by that same wrist. Still doing so carefully but pressing on the bruises that he had left there from the last fight we had.

He sees my slight look of discomfort and how my vision is trained on the wrist he's still holding and rolls up my sleeve, taking a quick look and seeing the evidence of his past transgressions.

"It left a mark huh?" he says examining the spot further and then bringing it up to his face where he places a few featherlight kisses on it, making a flash of heat run through my system when he looks back up at me with those eyes.

Those bedroom eyes that never fail to put me in a trance. He lifts his hand up towards my face and I flinch not knowing what to expect and see him stopping for a second, surprised by my reaction.

"Don't be afraid baby, it's just me" he says and keeps going, hooking his finger on the collar of my turtleneck to pull it to the side, no doubt searching for other marks.

"There's marks here too. I guess it's a good thing you stay home. Don't want to have to make up excuses for those now would you?" he says tapping under my chin twice, a slight lilt in his tone, enjoying my clear discomfort in showing them to someone, even if it's the person that's caused them.

"What did you do today baby?" he asks, letting go of me and going back to grab a few other things out of the fridge to complete his meal. "Oh you know, just some writing" I say, trailing off and giving him the same answer that I've given him time and time again.

"You almost done with it?" he questions, only really asking so he knows when my next big payday will be.

I shake my head "No, not yet. I think I'm only about halfway though" I say, giving simple answers to his simple questions. "Well you better get it out soon. I bet your readers are dying to know what happens next" he says giving me a quick wink before taking everything he has in his hands and carrying it over to the couch.

"Do you think you could grab me a beer?" he asks, but I know it's more of a courtesy than anything phrasing it like I actually had an option. I respond with a quiet yeah and bring it over to him, placing it on the coffee table.

"Thanks babe" he says and grabs a ahold of my hand and angles his head up, clearly asking for a kiss to which I oblige. Again something I don't really have an option in doing. "I missed you" he says and rubs his nose against mine cutely, or at least it used to be cute. Now it just makes me sad thinking of all of those times when we were happy.

"Are you gonna watch the game with me?" this time giving me something that I actually have a choice in. "I think I've got some more writing I'd like to do" I say and he nods his head not even bothering to look at me or give me a verbal sign of acknowledgment before turning on said game and slumping back into the couch to watch.

I walk over to my desk that happens to unfortunately be in the living room so I'm forced to grab my headphones to drown out the sound so I can hopefully get another chapter or two in before I call it a night.

~~~~~~

"Baby" I hear him call for me through my headphones after some time, that's something that I've had to fine tune. Making sure I can hear him when he talks to me no matter what so it's one less thing I have to worry about him getting upset about.

I pull out my headphones and turn my attention towards him, half expecting him to ask me to get him a beer. "Yes?" I reply, waiting to see what he needs. "Come here" he says holding his hand out to me and spreading his legs, showing me where he wants me.

I get up and walk towards him, straddling him once I get close enough and putting my arms around his neck. "Hi" he says in a deep voice sending a shockwave through my nervous system. "Hi" I respond quietly, intimidated at the thought of what he might do next. "How was the game?" I ask tentatively, hoping for my own sake that there was a favorable result.

"We won" he says, mindlessly tracing his hands up and down my curves. "How's your book?" he asks leaning into my neck, placing kisses over the bruises he had noticed from before. "

It's going" I whisper, starting to feel breathless from his warm breath fanning the sensitive parts of my skin. "Ready for a break?" he asks, question laced with a mischievous tone. I hum in acknowledgment, tilting my head to the side so he can have his fun.

~~~~~~

"I'm gonna head out but I'll be back later" Taehyung says while getting dressed with me still laying there with only a sheet to cover my body. "You're leaving?" I question, knowing he just said that but hoping he'll give me some sort of explanation.

"The guys wanted to meet up for a couple of drinks to talk about the game. Get some rest okay? I'll be back in a few hours" he says planting a soft kiss on my lips and one on my forehead.

I nod as he pulls the comforter over me as well, starting to already to drift off to sleep. "Stay safe" I mumble and flip over to the other side to try and get more comfortable.

He looks down at me for a second and chuckles at my fucked out and sleepy state before walking out of our bedroom and soon I'm left with the sound of him closing and locking the door behind him.

Although this night was bittersweet I'm thankful that it ended up like this. He's not a selfish lover when it comes to sex so I'm always left sleepy and satisfied except for the times that he's more rough, rough is putting it lightly so I guess I should say when he's more violent.

I hate thinking about those nights and I refuse to let those dark thoughts cloud this physical euphoric feeling I have but I can't help but worry about what he might actually be going out to do.

Would having a drink with the guys really make him want to leave his naked and freshly fucked wife alone in his bed? I just don't get it. If he's already been with me tonight could there be a possibility that he would wake up in another woman's bed and leave me waking up alone again tomorrow?

There's no use worrying about it though. It's not like it hasn't happened before, but why do I always let it get to me? Yes he's my husband but our marriage isn't like other ones in anyway shape or form. I'm here when he wants or needs me and that's it. I'm not allowed to want or need him because I'm just left disappointed every single time.

He doesn't love me, he just loves what I can give him and I need to come to terms with that. But it's nights like these where he's gentle and whispers sweet nothings in my ear that make me second guess things.

Maybe he's changed? Maybe he's realized what actually matters? And maybe I'm just getting my hopes up. I can't keep lying to myself but I don't know what else to do. I feel alone most days but these little glimmers of hope are what keep me holding on and unfortunately that's all I have left.

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fadingsnow · 5 months

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i am frothing at the mouth i love your hotd content and only just found out you write for coriolanus now.

i love angst so this idea for young snow where she was previously in a relationship with festus or something but snow manipulates her into dating him instead (for the social position she has.) he starts to distance her from her friends like arachne and giving her excuses to why he’s spending so much time with lucy gray. reader is at the zoo talking to her tribute when arachne dies and is quite distraught. during the bombing he protects lucy gray and reader gets saved by ex boyfriend. idk how it would end but snow would probably just ghost her while he was in district 12

𓆙 new girl - CORIOLANUS SNOW x f! reader

summary and tw: the request, also i'm not sure why it posted before i added anything else! i think i accidently put it on the queue, divider credits : @cafekitsune 𓆙

You huffed, picking at your food once again. All of this talk you had heard of Festus betraying you with.. Livia. You'd hear about it from Coriolanus, his eyes holding a pitiful look. Apparently, he had just wanted to let you know as Festus was parading his new girl around as if to mock you without your own knowledge. And you could feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. Of course, there were rumours of his betrayal. But hearing it firsthand made it worse than anything you had thought.

Coriolanus had been there to help you. At first, you were suspicious. Who wouldn't be? I mean, you knew he was somewhat friends with Festus, but.. he was always somehow lingering wherever you went. But soon enough, you let him the little enclosed space you call your heart. He didn't judge you, and he helped you through everything. It wasn't much, but it was what you needed. So you took comfort in his presence.

Now that was before, but it was the 10th Hunger Games. Every person for themselves. That is what you told yourself at least, but you sometimes didn't believe yourself when you saw the rare grin accompanied on Coryo's face. The crease of his frown, or his smile. You didn't mind.

Soon, he became more and more.. possessive? You had to start calling off study dates with Arache, someone who Snow wasn't shy to tell you his displeasure of. You'd see how his lips pursed at times, how he clenched his fists whenever he felt he was losing control. How he glared daggers into people around him when he was upset. Sometimes, he would even throw fits. You weren't sure where it came from. Maybe it was the stress of the situation. Or maybe it was just an overreaction. You couldn't really place.

And then.. Arachne dies. You had been talking to your tribute, a small girl named Wovey. You knew she was sure to die, but you could make her last few days memorable.

"Eat the foo -" Your words stopped right in its track when you saw something happen in front of your eyes. Arachne's tribute had.. hurt her throat, to say the least. You were about to run over to her before you saw a familiar face going to help her. Strangely taking you away from the severity of the situation, you were enamoured by Coryo again.

But for some time after, your mind couldn't function right. Arachne was gone. No one was going to ever talk to you for hours and hours over nonsensical stuff and giggle over it. Why did you listen to Coryo and stay away from her for so long? She haunted you everywhere you went, her scent, her favourite foods to eat at the Academy. Coryo was somewhat sufficient on supporting you. You were there when he sang at her funeral. You could only bring yourself to not let tears fall from your eyes, being given a tight embrace by Coryo when he found you in the small gathering. You breathed in his clothes, your shakes of cries vibrating against his body. He soothed you, running his fingers up and down your shoulders.

His voice was low when he spoke to you that night, his breath fanning across your cheek. "I can't lose you too," he whispered before pulling back to look at you. When you met his gaze, all you could do was stare into his eyes and nod numbly. That day, you weren't sure if he was really referring to his past or you.

He held you tightly for so long.

Days go by, but it's always Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray is the wedge in your relationship. She always has to be there when you haven't even met the girl personally.

You grabbed his hand, intertwining yours, "Can you not see it? Day and night, Lucy Gray plagues your mind! She is like a bird perched on MY porch that will never leave!" You breathed, speaking loud to get your words out.

"Lucy Gray is nothing but my tribute. She is what will help me win. We will win because of her. You will do well to remember that." He murmured harshly, taking his hand back.

"We? Since when was this a we situation?" You scoffed, holding your hand in your other now.

"Since I decided to care for you!" He yelled, his face seeming frantic after. He looked at you nervously before going to reach for you to comfort you.

You looked around, someone was bombing the arena. Your hands shook as you tried to move around. You were done for, your whole life's work at the Academy. You knew you were never going to get your tribute to win the Hunger Games, but you still wanted a life after it. Wait- You had to go get Coryo-

You could barely think before rough arms collided against yours and pulled you away, you couldn't even look up to see who it was. You hoped it was Coriolanus.

No, it wasn't. You looked up from the bed that was meant to hold you while you recover and saw Festus' face over you.

"How come you're not in the bed and I am?" You muttered, looking up at him.

His eyes widened slightly before composing himself and putting a hand on your arm softly, "It was a mistake, I'll see to it you won't get hurt anymore. You are no longer my responsibility."

You blinked owlishly up at him.

"Thank you, Festus. And just to let you know.. I am sorry for what happened."

His eyebrows furrowed before shaking his head. "Nevermind. Just focus on resting." He whispered before leaving you alone.

"May I ask one thing?"

"Sure."

"What happened to Coriolanus?"

"Oh, he went to save Lucy Gray. A bit brave, I suppose."

You in your anger had went to go find Coriolanus Snow. But when you looked for him, you found out he had been sent to District 12. Lucy Gray's district.

Weeks, weeks, weeks, and weeks, you had waited for a letter from Coryo. You didn't know a single thing that had happened to him, and he never told you.

There was no way. You just saw Coriolanus Snow on the screen as the president.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x you

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sailoryooons · 2 years

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Mine | One Shot | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x Succubus F. Reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi lives a quiet life. His days are organized neatly, and every week he can expect the same results. Then he meets you. Hypnotizing. Otherworldly. Strange. And his life never goes back to the way it was before.

☾ Word Count: 14,864

☾ Genre: Smut, Horror, Thriller

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Buckle up bitches this list of warnings is going to exhaust even me. Overall creepiness, descriptions of liminal spaces, tons of mentions of subspace-like trances, Yoongi's mind is not always his own, unexplained happenings, Yoongi being manipulated subtly, written jump scares (like three of them?), nightmares, hallucinations, the cutest and also creepiest fucking little succubus you'll ever see, Succy (succubus reader) really likes Tokyo Ghoul that should be a hint, hints at eating raw meat (bleh), Yoongi turning against his friends, Yoongi feeling sick/depressed in a couple of scenes, Yoongi is literally addicted to eating reader out soiejijrghij, explicit sexual content including, spit play, nipple play, oral (f. and m. receiving), grinding, unprotected sex in multiple positions, cum eating, switch dynamics between the two of them often, subspace mentions, fingering, ass play (m. receiving), just.... so many bodily fluids all the time, mentions of animal death (it is a cat and it's dead body is briefly described), a lot of confusion and pace changes as a style choice, Succy is literally obsessed with Yoongi so a lot of the pet name Kitty, very cringe behavior for some rando Yoongi met at a bar, ambiguous ending. I think that covers it idk this is almost 15k of pure nightmare fuel I will send you my therapists number alright

☾ Published: October 30, 2022

☾ A/N: If I have to write this authors note one more time because 'a wild tumbeast ate my fucking post I will scream. Do better Tumblr please stop eating my content over and over lmao. ANYWAY. SURPRISE THIS IS HERE A DAY EARLY. I have zero self-control and @gimmethatagustd told me to post it now so I really said fuck it we ball. I didn't use a beta for this one because I'm insane but I did edit it myself.... so if you see errors..... no you didn't. This one was so much fun to write and I hope you all love Succy as much as I do. She deserves the world she is very... scary and cute.

HAPPY HALIWEEN!!!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask

Friday nights are spent blowing off steam from work with friends. Yoongi has always lived a simple life, and he likes his Fridays like this: second person to the bar after Taehyung, a quick shot of whisky to take the edge off the day, followed by a whiskey neat and some fries from the kitchen that will still be a little unthawed in the middle.

Yoongi loves his Fridays at Serendipity.

The name is a bit of a joke, Jimin says. He inherited the old, rundown bar under another name from his abusive father after he passed away. Mysterious circumstances, the long-term patrons mutter into darkened ale and frosted mugs. Still, they come despite Jimin flipping the name. It was the only thing Jimin could afford to flip, the floors still the same sticky concrete that collect vomit, spilled beer, whiskey, and perhaps a little piss.

It's an ugly thing, with the vinyl stool covers splitting open to reveal guts of yellow foam, and countertops that need another layer of lacquer to fight the chipping from heavy mugs being slammed down every time Seokjin gets into an argument with one of the regulars. Yoongi tries to avoid the bathroom as much as he can. Jimin spent two weeks cleaning it and stocking it with a nice care basket with sprays, cotton rounds, and other products, only to have someone puke in it on the first night.

Yoongi doesn’t care that Jimin named the bar as a bit of an inside joke. Yoongi knows in his heart of hearts when he sees you that this moment is serendipitous.

Because when Yoongi sees you for the first time, the world ends.

Not really. But it feels that way the moment he turns at the bar. Perhaps he’s meant to see you – or perhaps it was by your design. He tilts backward when the door opens, searching for any sign of Seokjin who said he would be there in a few minutes.

And there you are.

Lights dim. The world takes on a muted feeling, like the two of you exist between murky, brackish water with something lurking just beyond the clouded space that he can’t quite make out. The roaring voices of the bar fade softly into the background until it’s just a buzz of pressure between Yoongi’s ears - or maybe that’s not right. Maybe it’s the buzzing pressure of awareness pressing on his spine and eardrums.

It isn’t pleasant but it’s not… uncomfortable.

It’s impossible to look away from you. He tries - tries to remember where he is. A bar, perhaps? Not this weird, opaque space where the only thing he can make out is the rogue on your lips, a spark in your eye, and the way you walk forward. No. Walk isn’t the right word. Glide might be more appropriate, he thinks.

As you near him, Yoongi breathes in sharply. Something like cedar mixed with jasmine and amber makes his head spin. The world tilts and Yoongi begins to slide on its new axis until suddenly, the mist surrounding him shatters as his foot comes into contact with the ground, knee buckling under his weight as his hand flies to the bar to hold himself up.

He fell off of his stool.

Yoongi almost doesn’t believe it, except Taehyung is laughing so hard next to him that Yoongi flushes furiously. He slides back onto the stool, brows furrowed and head ducked down to hide his rapidly glowing red ears and face from you.

But then you speak, and Yoongi cannot fight the urge to look at you once more. It’s an instinct pulling him from blushing furiously in his lap to stare at you.

“Hi,” you murmur. Yoongi is a fish out of water, mouth parted slightly, heart racing. Jasmine. Cedar. Amber. It’s all he can smell. His head swims, mind foggy as he tries to string together words. “Is this seat next to you taken? It’s the only one empty.”

Is it? Yoongi can’t tear his eyes from you, but he could swear Old Ass Han had been sitting there before you walked in.

Old Ass Han is the least annoying of Jimin’s customers and sometimes Yoongi doesn’t mind when Old Ass Han rambles about his late wife. Yoongi has no idea how old Old Ass Han is, he just knows that he was ancient even when Yoongi studied as a high school student tucked in the far corner of the bar.

“Um, yes?” Yoongi says and it comes out like a question.

You grin at him and the world ends a second time.

Pleasure-laced fear shoots down his spine. Your teeth are white and straight, but he swears for a split second they were razor sharp. He shakes his head, dispelling a little of the floating feeling as he says, “Of course. Yes. Please sit.”

Yoongi holds his breath and averts his eyes as you slide onto the stool next to him.

It’s suddenly too loud in the bar, a cacophony of voices and chairs scraping against concrete. Yoongi can still smell you, making the world rotate awkwardly as he spins on his stool to find Taehyung staring at him, brows raise and barely concealing his laughter.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you fumble like that,” Taehyung murmurs. He loses control of his laughter and tries to hide it in his cup of cider. Yoongi flushes and angrily stares into his whiskey, hyperaware of you leaning on the bar to call the bartender’s attention. “I mean – she is – holy shit I never believed in faeries or witches before but there's no way she’s human.”

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth. He tries to find a response to Taehyung, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and something tingles along every hair on his arm and neck, a sense of awareness as you lean on the bar, speaking to the bartender.

Again, your voice haunts Yoongi in a matter of seconds. He feels the need to turn and look at you again, but he doesn’t want to be weird. He’s already fallen off the stool once, and he doesn’t plan on further exacerbating his humiliation.

So, Yoongi remains facing Taehyung. Clutches his whiskey glass with shaking hands. Tries to take a breath – it comes out shaky – to calm himself. He has no idea what kind of delirium is threatening him every moment you’re next to him, but he wants to fight it - tries to fight it.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s brows twitch, mouth pouting. He ducks his head slightly, trying to find Yoongi’s gaze, but the older keeps his eyes fixed on the wood grain bar. Yoongi wants to look at you again. So bad. Wants to ask you your name. Wants to memorize the curves of your mouth. Wants to memorize every stroke of color in your eyes.

Want want want want.

A sudden throb pulses in Yoongi. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels it bloom inside of him, unfurling with warm petals of want want want want.

The urge to turn and look at you gets stronger.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

Yoongi grits his teeth. Feels pressure at the back of his head, like there are featherlight fingers pressing into the base of his skull to urge him to turn around and look at you again. His muscles constrict and he feels himself start to turn, hips beginning to swivel in your direction, arms rigidly placed on the bar as if to fight his lower half.

When he doesn’t turn to look at you, Yoongi swears he imagines the light press of fingers turning into a steel grip. His eyes start to water and he clenches his teeth, feeling an immovable force on him pulling, dragging, tearing - and he lets out a small gasp, the grip on him so strong that he -

“Yoongi,” Taehyung says again, voice firmer. Yoongi looks up this time, eyes soft and round, face flushed. There’s a little sweat collected on his brow, and Yoongi feels a dull throb at the back of his head like a fading migraine. “What’s wrong?”

“Um-“ he cuts himself off and clears his throat. The pressure on his head is gone, but the menthol-cool, awareness of you is not. “Maybe too much to drink? It’s been a stressful week, I think I knocked these back too quickly.

“You do look sort of flushed.” Taehyung raises his brows. “Maybe water?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Water, please.”

Taehyung asks for water when the bartender returns with your drink. Yoongi doesn’t look at you, though he can see from the corner of his eye you’re looking at him. He grits his teeth and stares at the mismatched, colored bottles behind the bar. None of its top-shelf – Jimin certainly cannot afford it – but it doesn’t need to be.

A glass of water appears in front of Yoongi in time for Seokjin’s arrival. The pressure in Yoongi’s skull doesn’t return, and the tingling along his nerves like an electric current dies down a little. He still feels shaken as he sips the water, freeing up the dry feeling on his tongue.

Seokjin nestles between Yoongi and Taehyung, ordering himself a drink. Jimin appears around the bar this time, finally done with his bookkeeping in the back, and slides a beer over to Seokjin. Yoongi watches the way Jimin smiles at them before his attention falters and slides to you sitting next to Yoongi, making Jimin blink rapidly a few times.

Irrational irritation flares in Yoongi for a split second. Though his attention is on his friend and watching Jimin reacts to you sitting in Old Ass Han’s place, it occurs to Yoongi that he doesn’t want anyone else to compete with him.

Not that he stands a chance. But for once in his life, Yoongi wouldn’t mind being the one to take someone home. Why can’t it be him? He saw you first. You’re sitting next to him.

Just as Jimin’s eyes glitter, turning to half-moons as he smiles at you, Yoongi spins in the chair, giving you his full attention. Your eyes turn to meet his and Yoongi is falling into them, no end in sight.

“Hi again,” you greet, voice velvet. “You have pretty eyes.”

“All right, hyung,” Jimin murmurs. Yoongi isn’t looking at Jimin, but he can hear the smirk in his voice as Jimin retreats to their friends.

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmurs. He allows himself to drink you in. His head begins to buzz like he’s had too much whiskey, his tongue heavy and cotton-fuzzed in his mouth. “You have a pretty… everything.”

You have to know how beautiful you are. A deity beneath silk-smooth skin. But you duck your head, a shy giggle leaving your lips. You have the decency to look shy, averting your eyes, lip tucked between teeth.

Perhaps later Yoongi will be embarrassed by the honesty. But right now, it’s all he can do to keep his heart rate normal. You are incredible to look at. Taehyung was right – perhaps not human.

An unnatural glow hums under your skin. Your eyes are vivid, drinking him in with a spark that Yoongi swears echoes a deep flame in the pit of his stomach. He wrestles with himself, his hands fighting a magnetic pull to reach over and brush his fingers across the canvas of your skin.

Yoongi won’t be able to stop if he touches you. His thoughts repulse him – you’re a stranger. Someone he doesn’t know. Someone his mind is begging to violate. He fists his pants, flexing the muscles of his hands and willing the strange pull toward you to go away.

He doesn’t even know your name and Yoongi feels like Pandora, watching you with coveted desire and shaking, greedy hands. Fuck he wants to pry you open and see what treasure lurks beneath the surface.

“What’s your name?” You ask him. You stir a beverage straw in your drink – an Old Fashioned. His lips twitch in a smile at your taste in drinks as he offers you his name. “Yoongi,” you repeat back. The way his name melts in your mouth like sugar entices him. “Cute. You’re cute.”

Yoongi flashes you a shy smile, echoing yours. You share a laugh, his rough and scratchy as he chews the inside of his cheek nervously, yours light and floating. It echoes in his ears and Yoongi loses his sense of self, thoughts drug-laced with only you.

And then your lips are on him and once again, Yoongi swears the world around him has fallen to destruction.

It’s hard to remember the order of events. Yoongi doesn’t care. Your mouth is sugar-sweet and hungry, licking into Yoongi’s open-mouthed kisses as he presses you against something firm. He wants to melt into you, your skin like fire under his seeking hands, your breath delicate and soft against the empty air of what he thinks is his apartment as his lips attached to your neck.

Even your skin tastes sugared. A delicacy for him. For his mouth only.

Mine. The word echoes across his mind, but not in is own voice.

You writhe underneath Yoongi’s hands. He squeezes the flesh of your lips, tongue snaking out to lick a broad stripe of skin up your neck. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging slightly, just enough to make him groan against your skin.

Yoongi is painfully hard. His cock throbs in his pants, the material restrictive and making the ache so much worse. He grinds his hips against yours, mouth sucking viciously at your collarbone, the top of your cleavage, anywhere he can taste you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your head thudding against the wall behind you. Panting, you hike up one of your legs, wrapping it against his waist to pull him in tighter to you. Yoongi whines as you connect your mouths again, tongue and teeth, and spit as you grind against him. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“Have me,” he mumbles sucking your tongue into his mouth. You moan, deep in your chest. He swears for a second it’s like a growl. Thinks nothing of it. Just pushes against you hard, cock pulsing. “Whatever you want.”

“Please.”

Yoongi never wants to hear you beg again. Or maybe he doesn’t want you to stop begging. He can’t make up his mind as he pulls you toward a room – his room. Yes, you’re both in his apartment. That’s his slate grey couch that you’re stumbling past and that’s his sheets that you fall backward against.

Licking his lips, Yoongi takes a moment to look down at you. You’re splayed out for him, unfurling in his sheets. He knows tomorrow morning they’ll still smell like you – jasmine, cedar, amber. You look divine, a flower unfolding delicate petals, open for him.

Only for him. Mine.

You wrap your legs around Yoongi, pulling him flush to the edge of the bed. You release him and press your feet to the bed, knees resting against his hips. You blink at him through fluttering lashes and starry eyes. He’s never seen anything like you. He never will again. He knows it.

“God damn you’re beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, the words slipping through his lips, unrelenting.

The stars in your eyes vanish. Yoongi recoils, seeing the fathomless black threatening to eat him alive. He begins to pull away, terror shooting through his chest, sharp and angry. You squeeze your knees against his hips, nearly shattering him. Your mouth is a gash of red with rows and rows of black teeth, churning and churning.

“Don’t speak his name here,” you hiss, words slithering in layers of many different voices. “Never again.”

Yoongi blinks and you’re blushing as you look up at him, knees splayed like butterfly wings, open for him. Just for him. He smiles at the way you giggle and hide behind a hand. “You’re so sweet.”

“You are beautiful. I swear it.”

“Touch me.” Your voice drips honey-sweet on his senses. “I want to feel you, Yoongi. Please.”

There is a prickling sensation like fear at the base of his spine but Yoongi can’t remember why as he smiles at you lazily, dipping down between your legs. He props himself above you, hands planted on the mattress on either side of your head to cage you in.

“Ask me again.”

“Please. Please please please-“

Yoongi swallows your begging tongue first, delving into your luscious mouth.

It’s been a long time since he’s been in his room like this with a partner, much less with someone who looks the way you do, but Yoongi’s hands are confident as they sweep up your sides, pulling the fabric of your shirt up with his hands as they go. You lean upward, letting him pull it off you before it flies from his hand somewhere in the room.

The lights are off in his room, but a silver shaft of moonlight spills through the window to paint you silver. Your eyes reflect the light as you drink him in, his hands brushing up your arms, warming your skin as he traces them to your tits, palming them generously over your bra.

A sigh escapes through your parted lips, red lipstick smeared artfully from the clash of mouths and tongues. He dips back down, tongue hungry for your sugar-warm taste and the liquid heat of your mouth.

Yoongi is dizzy. He’s a little off balance as he breathes you in. Your fingers pull through the strands of his hair, hips canting upward as he reaches around to unclasp your bra, peeling the unwanted layer from you.

Heated, shameless eyes meet his. You tilt your chest toward him, eager for his mouth. He doesn’t miss a beat, placing wet kisses over the tops of your breasts, more tongue and spit than lips, leaving a slick trail to your right nipple. Yoongi’s mouth is possessive, sucking your pert but between his lips and flicking it lightly with his tongue, looking up where your lips part in the moonlight to let out a soft moan.

It spurs him further, plucking your nipple with his teeth, pulling any sound he can from you. He gets a loud whine then and you wiggle your hips under the weight of where his waist is pressed into yours. Grinning, Yoongi repeats the motion, giving a generous suck before pulling away with his teeth, gentling scrapping your peak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Feels so good.”

Yoongi trails chaste kisses from one nipple to the other, giving it the same attention. He snakes a hand down your body, fingers dancing across heated skin to pull at the zipper on your jeans. His hands tremble, making it difficult to free the first button.

Reluctantly, Yoongi pulls his mouth away from your breast, a glossy strand of spit connecting his mouth to your swollen skin as he looks down, using both hands to pop the button on your pants and tug violently at them.

“These jeans are the fucking devil.”

“Yes,” you murmur, so quietly that he can barely hear you. He gets them to your ankle, yanking one more time and tossing them. He loses your hushed words in the rustle of clothes hitting the floor when you whisper, “I am.”

“Hmm?” he asks.

You silence his question by pulling his shirt over his head, leaning to capture his exposed chest with your tongue and teeth. Yoongi stands between your legs, head falling tilting toward the heavens at the worship of your mouth.

Deep groans leave his mouth. You bite more than you kiss, but Yoongi likes the way your mouth leaves a trail of little teeth marks, your mouth pinching his flesh before your tongue soothes it. You have him trembling, nearly making him double over as your hand presses over his clothed cock firmly, applying the pressure he needs.

It’s not enough.

Every part of Yoongi feels exposed. Even half dressed, the world is brushing against him raw, every touch of your hands like pleasure and torture, every fan of your breath like the coldest breeze on a hot summer day.

None of the sensations make sense but he feels high – higher than that time he and Jimin took shrooms at that one festival in college where the lights had whispered secrets of the forest to Yoongi and where he had tasted something beyond what he could describe.

But under your carnal touch, Yoongi knows that is nothing compared to this. Nothing compares to the way you work his jeans down to his midthigh, too impatient for him to kick out of them before you’re dipping a hand in his briefs and taking his cock into your hand.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi gasps, nearly toppling backward. Your grip is firm, strokes deft and confident and oh my god he might come like this.

You lean up to teeth at the pulse point of his neck as your tongue darts out to take a firm lick. “There is nothing holy about me, Min Yoongi,” you murmur against his neck. He shivers, eyes rolling behind closed lids as you speak. He can feel the trace of your incisors, sharper than he remembers against his skin.

Stars dance behind his eyes. You pull your hand away from his cock, making him protest. You hush him with a bite against his shoulder, sharp enough that he thinks you break skin. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting his world sweep from under his feet as you turn him and knock him onto the bed.

When the feeling of spinning stops a little, he blinks his eyes open to help you peel his clothes the rest of the way off. You’re fully naked and Yoongi doesn’t know where to keep his eyes. The swells of your breasts, marked with bite marks and spit from his mouth, the curves of your stomach and waist as you climb atop him, predatory and eager, or the glistening slick of your thighs where you’re dripping for him.

“Come here,” he demands. He’s dying to have you on his tongue, knows you’ll taste saccharine. He grabs your thighs harder than necessary, zeroing in on your pussy as he pulls you toward his mouth. “Wanna fucking taste. Bet you’re fucking delicious.”

You hum in delight, a lethal smile on your face as you crawl up to where he wants you, knees firmly on either side of his head. Yoongi lets out an appreciative noise. Your cunt is sticky and glossy for him, the perfect meal.

With gentle fingers, he parts your folds gently to reveal your slick, clenching hole and needy clit. Yoongi is eager, a finger trailing up and down your warm slit as he lets out a moan.

“Fucking wet,” he whispers before leaning up for a long, slow lick.

Stars explode behind his eyes. He hums in delight, shivering at the taste of you, heady on his tongue. He repeats the motion a few times, flattening his tongue for a slow-drag, appreciative lick up your cunt. He feels the way you drip into his mouth, spill on his chin and he can’t help but curse, at how addictive this feels.

You moan when he dips his tongue into your entrance, gathering your essence on the tip of his tongue before he drags it soft-slow up to your clit, circling your bundle of nerves lazily. Yoongi pulls your clit into his mouth with gentle lips, feeling the way it pulses as he sucks gently.

The sounds you make above him spur him further. He alternates between sucking your clit delicately and butterfly-soft tongue flutters, watching your mouth go slack as you watch him. The more you drip into his eager mouth, the greedier Yoongi gets, fastening his entire mouth on you and sucking harshly.

It becomes sloppy and imprecise. Yoongi can’t decide where he wants his mouth most. He can’t remember ever feeling this lightheaded from oral, much less giving. But he’s starstruck under you, sucking and sucking and sucking – fuck he doesn’t know if he’s even taking breaths.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whisper, a hand going to knot in his hair. His scalp tingles pleasantly where you hold onto him, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips move slowly over his face. “Fuck keep going.”

Pride swells in his chest. Your voice is airy, breaths short and stilted and overwhelmed as he eats you vigorously. His fingers dimple your skin, pressing into the meat of your ass as he rocks you on his tongue, jaw slack, tongue flat for you to let you fuck yourself on his face the way you want.

Yoongi feels you drip down his face, hears the wet-smack of his mouth against your cunt. He moans. Buries his face further, letting you grind yourself on his nose, chin, mouth lips, anything. He doesn’t care, sticky-coated to the jaw, so fucked out from pleasing you that he almost blacks out when you cum.

Something happens.

He doesn’t know how to describe it – it’s like for a moment, everything goes dark. Perhaps he does blackout. Perhaps he wasn’t breathing. He can’t remember. All he knows is that between one heartbeat and the next, there’s a moment of pure darkness accompanied by a laugh that chills his spine.

And then your mouth is on him, spit and cum making the glide of your mouths sticky-sweet.

Yoongi sucks your tongue into his mouth, pressing his fingers gently to the back of your head, pulling you closer closer closer. He just wants you closer, his stomach burning with a sudden hunger for you. He feels on fire, skin too-warm where your chest slides against his, sweaty and flushed.

Sheets stick to every part of him. He’s aware of the sweat that slides down his neck, a cool finger of relief as you press him further and further into the mattress. He feels like he’s sinking, entering a new domain where he’s no longer in his room – he's just with you. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Your fingers claw at his hair, pulling the strands to pin him to the mattress as you lift yourself, looking down at Yoongi. He blinks, stars in his eyes as he starts up at you, looming. Glowing. Beautiful. His hands are on your hips, a sparking current humming just beneath the surface of your skin.

You feel alive and vibrant.

A moan escapes Yoongi’s mouth, pleasure rolling through him as you grind your cunt on his throbbing cock, warm and wet. His eyes flutter, Yoongi squirming under you, legs kicking and twitching as you tease him. Just the glide of you on his shaft makes him shiver, the pit of his stomach clenching.

“Please,” Yoongi rasps. His fingers dig into your hips, begging. Pleading. Desperate. “Please please please please.”

“You look so pretty when you beg.” Your grinding increases and the room spins. His hands fall from your hips to the sheets, fingers fisted tightly in the fabric. “You’re so beautiful, Yoongi. My Yoongi. Mine. Mine mine mine.”

Your words are lost on him. There’s only the firm touch of your hand against his cock, gripped tight at the base as you lift yourself. He feels his cockhead catch on your swollen entrance and he lets out a strangled noise. He doesn’t know if he can stop himself from cumming. He is bursting at the seams with heat, an inferno so intense he swears that the world catches fire as you slide down his cock, warm and tight.

“Shiiit,” Yoongi hisses. He takes a deep breath and holds it, hips twitching where you straddle his waist, letting him suffer beneath you.

“Feels good.” You lean forward, hands pressed to his chest to support your weight. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open. He blinks at you through wet lashes. The room is so dark he can only make out the barest features on your face, but he sees your eyes clearly. Looking at him. Watching. Hungry. “So good,” you repeat. “So fucking deep.”

Nails bite into the skin of his chest. He feels his skin smart. The hot bead of blood that forms. He doesn’t care, watching as slowly, you lift your hips, your walls hugging every inch of Yoongi. He lets out a shaky breath, hands settling on your waist. He plants his feet in the bed, angling himself better as you reach the tip of his cock before sinking back down.

Heaven and hell. Yoongi wavers between both, gritting his teeth to keep from coming, to keep the feeling of you gripping him tight going. He doesn’t want it to end, it feels so good but it’s wonderful agony, fighting the curl in his stomach, the twitching of his abs, the threat of exploding.

Yoongi's eyes are drawn to where you fuck yourself on him, sticky arousal turning silver in the single shaft of moonlight that spills across the bed where you’re joined. He can’t look away, entranced by the wet smack of your ass on his thighs, the way you just fucking take him.

It lights a fire in him more intensely than the solar flare that threatens to send him spinning into his orgasm. Yoongi growls, digging his nails into your skin, half-moons on smooth flesh as he grits his teeth and fucks up into you. You gasp, nails raking down his chest as he jostles you. His breath comes out as stilted hisses behind clenched teeth.

“Touch yourself for me,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you come all over me – please.”

“Gonna,” you pant, head falling to his chest, claws leaving pink lines on pale flesh. You slide one hand down his body, making him groan as he fucks you with abandon. You gasp, hand working your clit between your writhing bodies. “Gonna come.”

“Please - for me.” He thrusts hard, thighs trembling with the effort, holding his breath as his muscles squeeze. He can feel you tense, pussy clenching so tight he curses and stops, letting you pulse around him as you moan and an unintelligible string of curses that sounds... like another language. “Fuck, just like that.”

Yoongi feels himself come apart. His universe shatters and he floats among the stars. Weightless. Happy. Tired. He feels nothing and everything, a soft frequency of... something dancing along his skin. A soft buzz. Pleasant and warm.

He doesn’t know how long he exists in that space. He can still smell notes of cedar, jasmine and amber. It's stronger now, with a touch of something else... something burning. He leans into the smell and it wraps around him, soft hands around his middle and petal-soft lips against his cheek.

Yoongi becomes vaguely aware that it’s you curled into his side, nose hidden in his neck, chest rising and falling against his arm. It grounds him a little. Brings him back into a dark room that is too obscure to be sure it’s his bedroom at all.

As he drifts off into sleep, he remembers the feeling of your tongue against his neck and nothing more.

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

It wakes Yoongi up. His stomach feels empty. His hands seek your warmth, palming your ass, pulling your hips flush to his. He doesn’t open his eyes, content to feel your heat. Again, something like electricity thrums under your skin, tickling his wandering hands.

Your mouth catches his. Pulls him further from sleep. He feels his skin ache from your teeth and nails the night before. Feels the weight of something inside of him that wasn’t there before, although he cannot put into words what it is.

Even in the morning, your mouth is sweet. Gluttonous. You suck his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling softly followed by a light giggle. He smiles into the next kiss, sloppy and filled with too much tongue but he lets you taste him.

Yoongi swears there is an echo of your taste from the night before. It’s enough to kickstart desire in him, detaching his mouth to plant kisses down your neck. Chest. Stomach. His tongue licks a trail down your velvet skin.

In a shuffle of sheets and skin, you lay back for him, pliant. He’s awake now, pressing your thighs open, teeth nipping the tender flesh. You giggle and the sound makes him pause, lips pressed to your leg, eyes looking up at you in the dim light of the morning. Or night. It’s hard to tell what time it is, here with you in this bed.

Glowing eyes look at him. Round. Soft. Curious. You watch Yoongi with rapt attention, lip pulled between your teeth. Spread. Eager. Ethereal.

Yoongi drops his gaze, groaning when he sees how fucking wet you are. He pulls you closer, sliding a hand under your ass to provide support. Curious, he brushes his thumb up and down your folds, collecting your essence as he does.

“So swollen and wet,” he mumbles, morning voice deep and scratchy. “You’re always so ready to be eaten, hmm?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

The new nickname makes him pause, thumb resting on your clit. He can almost feel your cunt throb under the pad of his finger as he applies a little pressure, watching you whine and kick your legs a bit. He grins.

“Kitty?” he asks as he resumes playing with you. His thumb dips into your hole, ring of muscles clenching around him. His grin spreads as he pulls it away, watching you fight with the loss.

“You have- ughhh – cat eyes. Pretty. Soft. Smart. Kitty.”

He hums, dipping his head forward to give you a single kitten lick. He shuts his eyes and sighs heavily, your taste heavy on his tongue. You taste just as good as the night before. “Cute,” he murmurs, more to himself. “I like it, baby.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response. He presses in, tongue lapping at you hungrily, refusing to let you drip without his mouth for another moment.

Greedy.

You’re greedy. You always are. Yoongi isn’t sure what day it is. It might be the same night as when he brought you home or it could be the weekend or it could be next week. He somewhat remembers the taste of a meal. Some cool water. But he doesn’t recall when he made it or when he showered.

He only knows he showered because he smelled the mint soap on your skin a few moments ago when you had your mouth attached to his throat.

Now, your mouth swallows his cock whole, throat pulsing around him. He curses, fingers twisting in your hair as he listens to you choke. Feels your drool dripping down his thighs. You relent, pulling back with a slick sound. He looks down at you between half-moon eyes, lashes fluttering.

You’re a vision: bruised lips smeared in spit and cum, chin covered in slick, watery, round eyes that blink up at him, innocent despite the fact that you rub the flushed tip of his cock against your abused mouth.

“Fuck,” he swears, watching your devilish tongue snake out to lap at his dark tip. “Fucking cock hungry, huh?”

You nod your head, trailing your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, taking time to suck slopping kisses to his skin. He can’t look away, even as you pump him lazily with your small hand, ravenous little mouth sucking coyly at his balls.

His fist tights in your hair. You look up, tears spilling over rounded cheeks. You look angelic at that moment, weeping before him. He nearly busts right there.

“Does Kitty like when I do that?” You ask softly, voice almost a whisper. Your voice changes, he’s noticed. Sometimes coming out dark velvet, other times tangerine-sweet. “Am I a good girl, Kitty?”

You always call him that. He wasn’t sure about it at first, but with a mouth full of his precum and neck covered in his teeth marks, Yoongi thinks you can call him whatever the fuck you want. He’s never seen a creature so drunk off fucking him before and he’s no better. All he wants to do is fucking live in you.

“Such a good girl,” Yoongi promises. He holds your head with one hand and your chin with the other, pulling your bottom lip down with one thumb. His touch is soft and reverent. You preen for him, smiling around his thumb as he slips it in your mouth and presses on your tongue. Feels the spit and god knows what else there. “Come on, baby. Suck.”

And you do. Yoongi’s eyes roll back in his head. He falls backward on his bed and it feels like he has passed through a portal to somewhere else. He floats. All he knows is your mouth, unforgiving. Your tongue, sinful.

And when Yoongi comes down your throat, and when you pull off of him and smile at him with the slow drip of it, Yoongi feels like he’s in fucking heaven.

Monday he calls out of work.

Crunching numbers at an accounting firm seems like hell in comparison to where he is now. You’re bent over the kitchen counter, drooling on the granite as he slowly drags his cock through your drenched heat. He ignores the spilled glass of water next to you. Instead, he watches himself disappear deep into your cunt, collecting cream on the base of his cock every time he pulls out.

Yoongi senses you looking at him. You are, eyes intense and heavy. Your gaze shifts so often he can barely keep up – thinks maybe he imagines the way you go from soft, round-eyed sweetheart to a siren-eyed vixen.

It’s the vixen look at him now. And as though you can read his mind, you slick your tongue out of your mouth, bubble gum pink and eager, eyes dragging down to where he works himself in and out.

Yoongi pulls out slowly, running a finger along your arousal smeared along his shaft, and leans forward, thrusting in hard. You pant, tongue still out and eyes focused on his as Yoongi delicately places his cum-slick finger in your mouth. Presses your cream on your tongue.

Your lips close around his finger, tongue swirling around the digit as you shut your eyes and hollow your cheek, gently sucking your arousal until there’s nothing left.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers, in awe of you.

And you are. There’s nothing you won’t do for him. Nothing Yoongi won’t do for you. So he slams into you, deep deep deep, and grunts until you’re coming around him for what feels like the hundredth time since he’s met you.

Yoongi startles awake. He blinks away a dream that he immediately cannot remember. His skin is clammy and his sheets stick to him all over. He kicks them off, heart hammering as he jumps to his feet, trying to get away from the bed.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels danger near him with every slam of his heart.

For a few moments, he’s in total darkness. He can’t make out the shape of his dresser. Or the pile of clothes in the hamper. He can’t see any light filtering through the window. He knows there’s a streetlight out there – why isn’t the light streaming through his curtains?

Panic threatens to seize him. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing fiercely. He opens them, bursts of starlight blinding him until they fade finally and he can see.

There’s a shadow in front of him, all razor teeth and red eyes.

Yoongi screams, flinching backward. He topples over and feels weightless like he’s falling through time and space. The moment of fear stretches out long – too long – and for a second he thinks he will die. His heart is beating too hard in his chest, his mind is screaming too loud, and the adrenaline threatens to crack him open and spill out on the floor.

He hits the curtain behind him and fists the fabric, ripping the entire rod and holders down backward as he goes. Streetlight pours into the room. He thrashes, blind and screaming among the now ruined curtains, the curtain rod, and drywall dust.

Yoongi frees himself, grabbing the rod to defend himself against the creature in a last-ditch effort to live.

Grey light saturates the room. There’s no shadow creature with teeth and red eyes. There’s just you in the middle of his bed, the reflection of the street light turning your doe-eyes to glowing coins. You’re in a t-shirt of his, soft and crinkled, hair messy. Lip trembling.

“Kitty?” Your voice is small. Almost childlike. “Kitty are you okay?”

The panic beat of his heart slows. He swallows down nausea and realizes his shaking, the remaining waves of adrenaline taking their toll. Yoongi lets go of the curtain rod and nods, pressing his head into the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. Throat dry. You move on the bed – more of a prowl – and you flick the lamp light on. Warmth rushes into the room and with it, relief. “Thank you.”

“What happened, Kitty?”

“A nightmare. I got up and … I don’t know. I thought I saw something.”

You sit on your knees. Hands in your lap, one palm splayed on your thigh, the other lifted toward him. Beckoning. Open. Warm. Safe. He peels himself from the wreckage by the window and walks toward you, feeling as though there is a string between you and him, tethering you to him. Reeling him in.

When Yoongi’s hand touches yours, exhaustion bleeds into him. Safe. He is safe. You smile and there are no razor teeth. Just kiss-stained lips as you shuffle backward, pulling Yoongi back into the bed.

“Come sleep, Kitty.”

“Okay.”

Carefully, he turns off the lamp. The streetlight floods his room now, but it’s comforting, the grey wash of the world enough that he can see anything creeping in the shadows.

Eventually, he falls back asleep with the slow drag of your hand back and forth across his forehead, and your mouth pressing gentle sucks to the side of his throat.

“Where are you going?”

Yoongi almost smiles at the pout on your face. You stand in his kitchen, brows pinched, mouth furious. You’re in another one of his shirts – there is nothing else for you to wear. His grin spreads as he comes around the counter, placing his messenger bag down.

Somehow you seem so much smaller in the daylight. Yoongi swears when you’re riding him in the early hours of the morning or when he has you on all fours fucking you deep into his mattress, you’re a force to be reckoned with. A fierce creature feeds on carnal pleasure only.

But now in the light of day, with your bottom lip jutting out and scowling brows, Yoongi thinks there is nothing more adorable. His perfect baby. You reach out, opening and closing your hands and he laughs.

“Work,” he answers gently, pulling you toward him. You don’t fight him. You never fight him. Yoongi is always your top priority – you’ve made that obvious. He smells the cedar. Jasmine. Amber. His head swims and for a moment, he forgot what you asked.

Moments like this with your skin touching, that high-frequency current that is unfamiliar but feels so good – Yoongi forgets himself. Every time he touches you, he’s somewhere else.

His phone rings and he remembers he’s supposed to leave. “I have work.”

Your scowl gets worse. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want to be with you.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he pulls away, you’re almost snarling, gripping him like iron. He sighs and squeezes your hips for reassurance. “I’ll leave a little early, yeah? For you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” Your lip wobbles and he leans forward again, nipping you. “Get some sleep. You woke me up very early this morning, hmm?”

You don’t answer, but you loosen your grip.

When he gets in the car, he sees the curtain in his living room shift and he grins. Cute.

Work drags. Yoongi’s in a bad mood. His coffee is extra bitter. The water tastes off. The fluorescents in his office are too bright, prompting him to turn them off. When he begins auditing his client’s monthly spending, the numbers swim on screen.

Yoongi takes his glasses off. Puts them back on. He swears that he sees symbols and that the screen glitches, flashing between letters and numbers and… something he’s unsure of. When he rubs his eyes, the screen is just numbers in an Excel sheet.

Sighing in defeat, he glances at the clock. It’s only been an hour.

“Fuck.”

He pulls his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen. Your contact information is in his phone, right? The silence in his office is deafening. It presses in on him as he stares at his phone, unseeing. Why didn’t he have your phone number? Shouldn’t a boyfriend have their-

A knock at the door startles him. He drops his phone, mumbling an apology as he bends down to get it before righting himself and looking at his director.

“How are you feeling?”

Yoongi shrugs. “A little off.”

And… it’s true. Yoongi’s head hurts suddenly, a migraine slamming on the confines of his skull. His too-bitter coffee burns in his stomach. The back of his neck feels too hot and his hands shake as he puts his phone on his desk.

“You don’t look too well. Maybe take the day?”

Yoongi nods. Sways a little when he stands up to retrieve his things and turns his computer off. On the drive home, the headache recedes a little. He grips the wheel tight, taking deep breaths as he tries to steady the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

In the drive, Yoongi takes a deep breath. The pressure in his head is gone and his stomach doesn’t feel as rotten as it did twenty minutes ago. He makes a mental note to look up his symptoms when he gets inside – perhaps he has the flu. It won’t do to feel this way before his client’s quarterly financial reports are due.

Thankfully, when Yoongi steps into his house, he feels much better.

Feels fine as he drops to his knees in the entryway, tongue buried hungrily in your cunt as he presses you hard against the door, drinking in every drop. Above him, you tremble and cry, begging him never to leave again.

When you cum on his tongue, creamsicle sweet, he thinks he never will.

Pain shoots up Yoongi’s foot as he stubs his toe making his way to the bathroom. He can barely see in his room now that he has fixed the curtains – and put blackout ones at your request – and the floor is covered with his shoes and chargers and boxes of snacks you keep in his bedroom like a nest.

He has never in his life seen someone with an appetite for junk food like you – especially sweets.

Yoongi opens the bathroom, the gentle, white glow of the night light casting a dull halo against the whitewash walls. He glances in the mirror and his heart launches into his throat. His hand slams against the door for balance and a moment of terror bleeds him dry when he sees the shadow behind him, white teeth flashing and red eyes.

Whirling around, Yoongi’s hand shoots for the light, painfully jamming fingers against stucco. He manages to flip the switch while his heart pulses in his throat, terror working its way through him like an injection straight into his cardiovascular system.

Light spills into the room, so bright that he flinches, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them, there’s nothing. It’s just his messy room, covered in clothes, empty and half-full bottles of lube, a generous amount of junk food, and you.

Asleep. Soft against his pillows, lips parted slightly.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Yoongi chastises himself and shuts the bathroom door. A few splashes of cold water from the tap do the trick, calming him down and cooling the red splotches of anxiety blooming on his neck.

When he returns to bed, your hands seek his warmth, making grabbing motions even in sleep. He indulges you, sliding closer. Tucking you into his chest. You hum in your sleep, that vibrating feeling that lives just under your skin ever-present.

Gently you lean forward, mouth seeking as you press your lips against the soft spot under his ear. He shivers as the innocent kiss turns into a soft suckle, pulling skin between teeth your tongue pressed against his flesh. But you don’t wake up. You seem content to lay in his arms with the gentle pull of your mouth against his skin, smelling like cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

And he falls asleep, moment of terror forgotten.

Yoongi has a problem.

Time management was always one of his strong suits. As someone who lived an organized little life in an organized little home, he thrived on order, repetition of days, and knowing what to expect each day.

Except now Yoongi never remembers what day it is. He hardly remembers how he spends his day. But what he does remember are moments with you. Bodies against bodies. The press of his fingers in your sticky cunt. Your curious fingers, pressing into the tight rim of his ass, pulling out orgasms so deep that it takes him hours to move.

Now, you’re pressed against him on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV. He watches you and you watch the screen, completely focused on the world of Spirited Away. His lips twitch in a smile and he yawns. You snuggle closer to him, nearly attached. It’s second nature to you, to fasten yourself to him. He doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When Yoongi’s phone rings, it interrupts everything. You immediately hiss, looking toward the ringing device on the counter. He can’t remember the last time his phone rang but he begins to lift himself off of the couch.

Your fingers dig in. “Finish the movie.”

It’s a demand. He laughs as your brow pinches. “I’ll be right back, let me just see who it is.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie with me?”

Your voice has grown small again. Not the sultry purr he is used to in the middle of the night when you mouth at his cock, hard before he’s even awake. Not the demanding crack of a whip when you order him to come.

This voice is tiny, a soft thing that immediately draws him to look at you. He cradles your face, your big eyes looking at him with tears rimming them. His stomach drops and he hushes you, thumbs brushing back and forth.

“Fuck – baby why are you crying?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie, Kitty?”

“Hey, Kitty wants to watch the movie.” He croons and you pull yourself into his lap, arms going around his neck and winding in his hair. He keeps a soft grip on your face, eyes searching. That thrum is just beneath the surface, like a beating heart. “I just have to answer the phone, baby. I still want to watch the movie.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.”

“Of course I do.”

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. But ever since he’d started working from home – wait, he works from home? He shakes the question from his thoughts, saving it for later.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. And now you sit on his lap and he hates himself for the way a tear slips down your face, turned into a diamond from the reflection of the TV.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, heart aching in his chest. He leans back. He pulls you flush against his chest. You tuck your face in his neck, your favorite spot to nuzzle and he feels the gentle tuck of your mouth, the tiny suckle of your teeth against his neck. Your comfort.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely -

He doesn’t remember. What was he thinking about? He doesn’t know.

Yoongi loops his arms around you and squeezes you tight. And his eyes flutter shut, suddenly tired and lulled to sleep by the gentle pull of your mouth on his skin.

“Come look at this cat,” Yoongi laughs, crouching down on the back porch. The tabby rubs itself between his legs, purring as it twists figure eights. “It’s so friendly, baby. Come say hi.”

Night sky stretches over the city. It’s colder outside – almost Halloween, maybe. Yoongi lost the calendar in his house and he only turns the computer on if he has to sign on for work, which he rarely does these days.

You peek from the door, looking at the cat rubbing its face on Yoongi’s hand. He looks up at you and smiles. You’re swimming in a sweater of his, though your legs are bare. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you again – he can’t ever get enough, licking the sweetness from between your thighs only to finish by fucking himself into you until he blacks out.

The blackouts happen more after sex now.

“He’s sweet,” Yoongi promises, holding out another hand to you. “Like you.”

Tentatively, you step outside of the door. The floorboard creaks under your step, drawing the cat’s attention. It happens so fast that Yoongi falls from his crouched position, sitting abruptly on the floor. The cat lets out a terrible sound, somewhere between a horrible yowl and a hair-raising hiss.

A blur of claws and teeth, Yoongi yells as the sharp talons catch him, letting the cat go. It becomes a streak of fur and screeching, vanishing from the yard.

You rush to him, dropping down to hold his scratched hands, blood surfacing.

“No!” You look up at him, holding his hand gently to your chest. He feels the strange hum, the heartbeat that… isn’t a beating heart as much as a constant buzz. “Are you okay, Kitty? You’re hurt.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles. The fear in your eyes is heartwarming. You love him – he knows this. He feels it. “Sorry it startled you.”

Autumn sun beats down on Yoongi as he goes to peel logs from the stack of firewood in the backyard. As he jogs down the steps, he slows, frowning. There’s a dead tabby at the foot of the stairs, broken body and dark blood smeared underneath.

“Weird,” he mutters, rushing to get some firewood. “I’ve never seen cats here before. Poor thing.”

When he goes back inside the house, he sees you sitting on the counter. Spread. Finger tracing up and down glistening folds, swollen cunt begging for his mouth. Yoongi drops the wood. He zeros in, licking his lips as you spread your legs a little wider.

“What a perfect fucking pussy,” Yoongi grins. “That for me?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi forgets about the dead cat.

“I want candy.” Yoongi looks up at you, brows raised. You’re standing in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store, chewing your bottom lip as you look at him with hopeful eyes. Yoongi immediately softens. Feels his heart flutter. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” He looks up at the aisle names. “It’s three aisles over. Can you get what you want while I go back and get milk? I forgot.”

You hesitate for a moment, a moment of fear on your face. Before he can brush away your fears with a simple kiss, you take a deep breath and give him your bravest smile. He preens, proud as you give a confident nod and dart off in the direction of candy.

Yoongi is impressed by you. Leaving the house is hard for you – always has been. The two of you mostly stay inside, locked in your little world. Yoongi likes it that way. Loves knowing after dinner you’ll be nested on the couch, watching him with inquisitive eyes and asking him to put on a new show or to continue the anime you’ve been binging.

Every new experience for you brings stars to your eyes. He loves that about you – loves the way you go awestruck while watching old anime that Yoongi adores, or the way you hum and spin in circles to music he shows you.

Yoongi remembers hearing once that people live many lives. He thinks that if that’s true, you must be in your first life, curious about everything. Surprised by the world. And he gets to watch it over and over, the way you grin when something startles you or when you furiously pout because you don’t like something.

Grocery store trips are new for you. The first time, you’d been stitched to his side, refusing to separate from him. Cagey and flashing mean eyes at everyone. Now, though, Yoongi doesn’t worry as he pulls open one of the glass doors in the cold section, looking for milk.

“Yoongi?” He turns mid-reach for a carton of milk, the cold air hitting him in the face and turning his cheeks pink, glass frosting with the humidity rushing into the fridge. Taehyung is standing behind him, hands shoved into pockets. “Holy shit it is you.”

Yoongi gives Taehyung a funny smile, pulling the milk from the fridge and adding it to his cart. “Why wouldn’t it be? How are you?”

“Dude, how are you? You don’t answer anyone’s calls, I heard you started working at home from some sort of illness, and you refuse to answer your door when we come by.” Taehyung’s face is picture-perfect concern, brown eyes fixed on Yoongi, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Why can’t you tell us what’s going on? It’s been weeks.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to you two weeks ago.”

Taehyung cocks his head. His brows furrow and an unsettling feeling flips Yoongi’s stomach. He remembers the call exactly. Recites their conversation back to Taehyung, but before Yoongi can finish, his friend is shaking his head.

“We never had that conversation, Yoongi.”

Taehyung takes a step closer. Yoongi’s heart starts pounding. He remembers talking to Taehyung. He had been standing in the kitchen when his phone rang, and you had handed him his phone. Yoongi remembers because he had been half-paying attention to the conversation, transfixed by the way your eyes caught the light and the way you watched him catch up with Taehyung.

But… another thought swirls in Yoongi’s mind. A vision of you slamming the phone down on the counter, shattering it. Yoongi begging you to stop – stop something – and then your soft lips on him.

He shakes his head, setting the thoughts free.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asks, moving past his cart to get closer. Yoongi backs up. He doesn’t know why, but it’s automatic. He feels panic surge as Taehyung pauses. “Are you sick or-“

Maybe he is. Yoongi knows he talked to Taehyung and yet… doubt wiggles into his mind. Eats at it like a worm. There feels like there is a box somewhere tucked in the recesses of his memory, shielded and without a key. If he applies pressure on it, he gets a headache.

Licking his lips, Yoongi places his trembling hands on the cart. Looks at Taehyung. Sees the pleading in his friend’s eyes. Yoongi opens his mouth to ask when Taehyung thinks they last spoke and -

“Kitty?”

Your soft voice cuts the anxiety in half. Yoongi’s thoughts ease as you appear a few feet away from them, bags of candy in hand. Your doll face morphs into unease when you look at Taehyung. Yoongi wonders why that is – you’ve talked to Taehyung plenty of times. You encourage Yoongi to call him.

“You?” Taehyung asks. The vehemence in his voice startles Yoongi. “You’re still around? Jesus Yoongi, have you been shacked up with some girl you met at a bar this entire time?”

Words have consequences. Taehyung’s immediately has an effect, your expression going from soft and sweet to something that makes Yoongi’s hands grip the push-bar on the cart tightly.

“He has nothing to do with it.” Your voice is a layered hiss. A tingle slides down Yoongi’s neck – familiar and dangerous. He has the sudden urge to bolt, but his feet are rooted to the ground as you advance, putting yourself between the two men. “Yoongi hasn’t been feeling well. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I’m one of his best friends!”

Taehyung is one of his best friends. And Jimin. And Seokjin. Yoongi remembers sitting on a stool at Serendipity, listening to Old Ass Han tell him some superstition about female demons who snatched one of his sons in the middle of the night. Jimin had laughed so hard and made Old Ass Han so mad that Jimin covered his tab for the night.

It was such a funny memory that the next Halloween, Jimin had dressed up as a sultry, female demon. Yoongi vaguely recalls laughing with them into the night, especially when Jimin picked up a guy to go home with that night.

Yoongi is full of those memories – at least he was. He thinks he is.

The little place in his mind that feels inaccessible cracks a little and Yoongi winces, a headache splitting him open. He clutches his temple as a bolt of pain lances through his skull. Then your hands are on him, gentle and cradling his face. You’re saying something but he can’t hear you over the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Colors dance across his vision as Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pant through the pain. The pain doesn’t come from that tiny little box in his mind – it comes from somewhere else. Pulling him away from whatever is hidden there, in that dark little forgotten corner.

Suddenly, it becomes too much and darkness swallows him whole.

The last thing Yoongi remembers is the gentle kiss of your mouth on his neck.

Yoongi has a problem.

He’s getting headaches all the time. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night with them, sharp pain digging behind his eyes. It always worsens when he tries to recall the dreams he has before he wakes up – he knows he has dreams. They’re on the tip of his tongue. But the more he thinks about them, the more he tries to draw up what he imagined, the more the pain grows.

The bed sinks as you crawl in next to him. It’s too hot in bed. Sheets cling to Yoongi’s skin. He feels like there’s a furnace under the mattress, burning through and making everything sweaty and sticky. He shifts a little away from you – your body is always warm, skin heated with the thrum of energy beneath the surface.

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber. Your scent swells as you tuck yourself close to him. Not touching, but Yoongi can sense you there, an awareness tingling along his skin. It’s happened a few times, where a second awareness blinks an eye open and Yoongi feels on edge. Like there is suddenly an instinct inside of him that has awakened, one he is unfamiliar with.

That awareness yawns. Blooms at the back of his mind, where that same throbbing ache has settled. Yoongi tries to steady his breathing, but he can feel his pulse against his pillow, thumping faster and faster as your cloying scent muddles his thoughts.

You don’t say anything. You don’t reach out and touch him. You just lay there, silent and omnipresent. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, and for the first time in a very long time, he wishes that you would go to the other room and watch TV. You love watching TV. Sometimes he finds you sitting in front of it on the floor, knees tucked to your chest, chin on top of your knees while you watch a variety of shows.

Though it seems you have settled on Tokyo Ghoul as your favorite.

“Kitty?” you whisper. He holds his breath. Perhaps if he pretends he is asleep, you’ll go to sleep too. Long beats of silence stretch between you, filled only with the sound of Yoongi’s measured breathing. “I’m sorry.”

He pauses. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Yoongi swallows past a knot in his throat. Every muscle in his body is clenching. His fingers are fisted in his blankets, and he’s curled into a ball. He doesn’t remember feeling so braced. He tries to relax, letting himself melt in the bed a little.

“For what?”

“You… need space.”

He doesn’t need to turn around to hear the tremble in your voice. You sniffle a little. The lamp on his bed flickers, catching his attention. He watches the flicker of the bulb as you cry softly behind him. He wants to turn around – wants to gather you in his arms and tuck you into his chest and yet… he doesn’t.

“A little,” Yoongi admits softly.

“Okay.”

Licking his lips, Yoongi steels himself. He rolls over in bed to look at you. You’re buried in one of his hoodies and the blanket he likes to sleep with on the couch. He can barely make out your cherubic face. Your round eyes blink at him, pools of light in the darkness of the hoodie and blanket.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Okay.”

He softens. It’s not so warm in the bed anymore, so he reaches across the space, finding your hand clutched in the blanket. You let him pry your fingers open and he traces your palm. “Just a little space, okay? I can sleep on the couch tonight.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Baby-“

“I’m not tired.”

Your voice is firm. He knows that voice – it’s the one that precedes a tantrum if he’s not careful. He nods, pulling a hand away and sighing, closing his eyes. He is tired. He realizes just how tired he is.

“Good night, Kitty.”

Most days it’s easier to placate you.

Yoongi feels like he is worn at the edges. Hot water runs down his neck, his back. Relieves a deep ache that has begun to grow on his bones, pained turned lichen. He feels like a watercolor painting with too much liquid medium, running at the edges and blurring across a once-beautiful canvas.

Sleep comes every night, but Yoongi still wakes up tired. He misses meetings even though he has been working from home for… however long. He doesn’t know where his cell phone is. He lost it somewhere in the house – doesn’t need it much.

Water drips onto the floor as he steps out of the shower. He watches it run down milky legs, soaking into the towel. Steam permeates the air and slicks across the mirror, Yoongi’s reflection as opaque and bleary as he feels.

Yoongi heaves a heavy yawn, wiping a hand across the steam in preparation to shave. When his eyes look up at the three-paneled mirror, a shadowed creature with rows of gnashing teeth and red eyes is behind him.

A scream rips its way out of his throat, the terror is so awful that Yoongi’s knees buckles. He hits the tile hard, head smacking the cabinet. His world explodes into color as he blinks the stars from his eyes, scrambling with damp legs, slipping uselessly on the steamed tile as he backs himself into the corner of the wall and sink.

There’s nothing there. Just an open doorway.

For a few seconds, it’s just Yoongi’s heart pounding so hard that his stomach roils. He fumbles for the toilet, flipping the lid and rolling to his knees to heave the contents of dinner into the bowl. He gasps for air, stinging his vomit-burned throat as he throws up again. Stomach-churning. Lungs screaming.

When he flushes and settles against the bathtub, he hears the TV in the living room. Cool air drifts in from his bedroom. He closes his eyes and takes in deep breaths, counting in for seven and out for seven. There’s the soft patter of your feet on the carpet, and he can sense you in the doorway.

His spine always tingles when you’re around.

“Kitty? Are you okay?”

“Don’t feel good.”

“Oh kitty,” you whisper. He keeps his eyes closed. You slide closer to him and your hands are warm. When they touch his face, he feels a little energy pour back into him and he opens his eyes. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, still. “I’m sorry.”

“Why sorry?”

You chew on your lip. “I’m sorry.”

It feels like you say that a lot these days. Yoongi nods his head and closes his eyes again as you lean forward and press yourself to his side, giving him a gentle kiss.

The headache is bad. But he has to know. Lays in his bed writhing in the sheets.

Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts.

Memories crack across his mind, each one hurting more than the last.

A creature of shadow. Blacking out after sex. A dead cat that hadn’t always been dead. Your innocent eyes. Your angry eyes. You smashing his phone to pieces. A doctor forging him a medical note. Blood on your hands and face as you came out of the doctor’s office.

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi has energy. He feels more himself. Clearer. He gets up early in the morning and makes himself coffee. He sees you lurking near the fridge, throwing him wary glances. You’re a little more worn than usual: sallow cheeks, bags under your eyes. Your eyes are as starry.

When he asks you what’s wrong, you don’t answer. You duck into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind you. He stares, a little confused and hurt before sighing. You’re touchy sometimes, and on the days like this where you’re more like a feral cat than a preening girlfriend, he knows to keep his distance.

Yoongi shrugs and tosses the sugar packet in the trash, frowning. There are empty bottoms of foam that are stained red - meat packages, he realizes. He doesn’t recall having steak at all this week, but perhaps you’re thawing it in the fridge for dinner.

He shrugs and goes to his office, leaving you to your devices.

A morning meeting kickstarts his day, and Yoongi forgets about it.

Yoongi has a problem.

You’re worse. You don’t want to come out of his room and you won’t go near the light. There are harsh lines around your eyes and he swears your teeth are sharper. More lethal. You won’t sleep in the same bed as he is.

Worst of all? Yoongi feels great. Feels like perhaps it was just a depressive episode he was in. He no longer feels like he is melted together at the edges, barely hanging on. But it does mean that he’s getting frustrated with you.

“Feral,” he mutters as he walks into his office after you snarled at him and then proceeded to cry because you wanted him to take the day off. “Sometimes I swear she is feral.”

Soft lips wake Yoongi up in the middle of the night. He stirs, feeling a tingle run down his spine. He can smell cedar, jasmine and amber and smiles. You’re pressed against him, mouth seeking his delicately, though there is some urgency behind your kisses.

Yoongi opens his mouth to you, an invitation. You suck his tongue into your mouth greedily and arousal shoots to his cock, your mouth doing wonders on his tongue. Fuck he knows you like to suck him off like that too, all greedy and sloppy and spit-slicked.

Your hands pull at his shirt and you kiss him with more fervor, lips becoming teeth, moans becoming hisses. When Yoongi rolls onto his back, pulling your hips on top of him, the dynamic changes.

A gasp escapes his kiss-bruised lips, eyes flying open as you mark his throat. Harsh stings of teeth followed quickly by lavish licks of your tongue. It’s messy and you leave a trail of spit dripping down his neck, making him squirm underneath you, cock tight against his pajama shorts.

“Fuck,” he moans when you suck that spot under his ear he loves. “Greedy devil.”

“Yes,” you shoot back, voice firm. Your hands seek his, pulling them from where they massage your ass to pin them above his head, your grip iron. “Please.”

There’s no way she’s human.

Taehyung’s words flash through Yoongi’s mind when he looks up at you. Your pupils are dilated, two black disks that absorb the barest hint of light in the room. He shivers, afraid of falling into your dark eyes and never finding his way back home.

Have your eyes always been that soulless? No, he thinks.

“Please,” you say again. “Please let me have you.”

He frowns. “You can always have me.”

You shake your head. “Not always. Too much. I take… I take too much. But now not enough. I just…” Your lip trembles and where you hold his wrist begins to ache. He whimpers and you hush him, your fingers loosening a little. “I just need some. Not a lot.”

It’s hard to understand what you’re asking for. Yoongi is lost in the sensation of fluttering in his stomach and the way blood rushes through his body. He feels high when you dip one of your hands below the waistband of his pajamas, taking a hold of his cock in your hand, thumb brushing precum from the tip.

You always take care of Yoongi. His eyes flutter shut as he feels a steady static build in his brain. Your touch is careful but deliberate, each stroke of your hand and squeeze of his shaft sending him spinning. His hips twitch under you.

When you shift down his body, he lifts his lower half off the bed, kicking at the sheets and letting you tug his bottoms down. He’s shaking and eager, unable to look down at you when you take him fully in your hand, tongue tasting the stickiness at his tip.

“Fuck,” he whispers. His hands are still above him, twisted in the pillowcase. He leaves them there, helpless as you tongue the head of his dick before sucking it into your mouth. Your tongue is gentle and your mouth is warm, the barest of sucks making him whine. “Don’t tease me.”

You hum and the vibrations make him speechless. His head rolls to the side, mouth parted, panting as he sees stars. You suck him eagerly, messily. He hears the wet pull of your mouth, the choked cough of your throat when you take him in deep and swallow.

Gentle nails scratch down his legs. He feels like he’s disconnected from the rest of the world, a single strand tethering him as he floats. He babbles as you take him in deep, a hand reaching down below his balls, a single, shy finger pressing against his tight rim.

Everything inside of Yoongi goes taught. He comes immediately and without warning. Spills in your mouth and the world fades away. There is nothing where he goes. No memories, no thoughts, no anxiety. It’s just Yoongi and he feels good – the kind of warm from a bubble bath laden with creams and salts.

Eventually, he comes back down. Opening his eyes, Yoongi sees you blink down at him. You smile, brushing light finger strokes over flushed cheeks. He grins up at you, elated. Hypnotized. You’re so… he doesn’t know the word.

There’s no way she’s human.

That phrase makes Yoongi’s smile falter. You are exquisite. Shrouded in darkness. Yoongi feels the press of unfamiliar air. When he looks beyond you, there’s just darkness. There is nothing. No light streams in from the window again. There is no soft hum of the nightlight in the bathroom where he usually leaves the door open now.

It’s just you.

Yoongi’s heart begins to speed up, panic rising.

You kiss him softly. It’s sweet and his anxiety melts away. Feels the weight of you on your hips, wet pussy dripping on his thigh. You’re being patient, which surprises him. Usually by now you’re needy, grinding your cunt on his thigh to seek friction.

“I want more,” you whisper against his mouth, fingers pressed into his cheeks. “Will you give me more?”

He nods. You lick his mouth, sighing contentedly as you roll your hips on his thigh. He moans, feeling the glide of your bare folds against his leg. You are always so ready for him, eager to take him. Easy to please. Excited to take what you want.

Shaking above him, you bury your face in his neck. Yoongi slides his hands from their position above his head, resting one hand on your thigh and sliding the other between your legs. Sticky arousal greets him, his fingers brushing up and down your cunt as you stop grinding, letting him take control.

“Kitty,” you beg, words muffle in his neck. He grins, eyes half-lidded as he plays with you. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi sinks two fingers in your greedy hole, feeling the way your walls flutter around him. It doesn’t matter how many times he buries his fingers, cock or tongue in you – every time is divine. Feels like something holy, taking him somewhere else.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he murmurs, pressing a thumb to your clit. “Come on, baby. Wanna see you make a mess on my hands first.”

“Want your cock.”

“Fingers first, baby. Come on, you can do it.”

A growl rips through your frame. Yoongi stills under you for a moment, heart skipping. But then you move your hips and he hears your soft breath. Feels the drip down his hand. He grins, feeling you swallow his fingers as you work yourself on him, his thumb circling your clit lazily.

Nails dig into his thighs as you lean backward, spreading yourself for him. He can barely make out your figure in the darkness, but he can see the swell of your chest, the line of your neck as you toss your head back, his name falling from flushed lips and floating up to the ceiling.

When you come, it’s wet and loud. He hums, pulling drenched fingers from your legs. He surges forward, surprising you and moving you backward, letting your head bounce near the foot of the bed as he cages you in, stealing a kiss.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging and whining and rubbing against his thigh again, begging sweetly. No one has ever wanted Yoongi the way you do. Ever. He cannot recall a single time someone has been as vigorous in their pursuit.

It makes him hard again, the rush in his veins igniting once more as he slides into you. He pushes in to the hilt, settling there for a moment. You clench around him, clawing at the back of his neck and thrashing under him. Begging for more. Always wanting more. Swearing you just need a little more.

Yoongi sets a slow pace, stroking deep with a purpose. You gasp every time he fucks all the way into you. He grins against your sweaty neck, tongue licking a stripe up your salty skin. You turn your face and catch his mouth with yours, swapping more spit than kissing, moaning into one another’s mouths.

An orgasm winds tightly in Yoongi’s stomach. He feels it at the base of his spine this time, a second sense tingling as he picks up speed, slamming into you until you’re crying under him, babbling again in something that sounds like a language but isn’t quite.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck –“ He grits his teeth and the moment he comes, you squeeze him like a vice, shouting and pulling him into an orgasm so hard that he feels himself fall on top of you, the energy leaving him as quickly as his orgasm had gathered.

At some point, he falls asleep.

Hell on earth is waking up battered and torn at the seams. You’re out in the living room, enjoying an early morning episode of Tokyo Ghoul again. He hears you giggle at the TV and he lifts his head in the shower. The rush of the hot water is loud, but the sound of you laughing is in his head.

It always feels like you’re in his head.

Yoongi stumbles when he gets out of the shower. His feet are heavy and there is pain behind his eyes. The throbbing kind that makes him turn the lights out and shoot a text to work telling them he needs a sick day. How many sick days has he had this year? He has no idea.

Yoongi stumbles to the mattress and collapses into the sheets. Everything feels heavy like he is made of glass bones with the weight of the world threatening to break him.

Sleep comes and goes. It doesn’t make him less tired. Yoongi places a hand on his forehead. He is not over-warm, but he wants to cry, the ache in every muscle so real that it takes him several tries to say your name.

You appear immediately, hovering at the edge of the bed in his hoodie, wrapped in a blanket.

“Are you feeling sick, Kitty?” He nods and you sniff. “I’m so sorry, Kitty… do you want some water?”

Yoongi nods again and you vanish. He rolls onto his back, groaning. He reaches for his phone. The screen is cracked from some incident or another, but it’s mildly legible as he searches his symptoms online.

When you come back with water, he thanks you with a sweet kiss and smiles when you lick his nose affectionately before darting out of the room again. He hears the show start again.

Carefully, Yoongi tries to sit up a bit. The water is cooled with two cubes – just the way he likes it – and it helps staunch the thirst. He drains the entire glass, but still, he aches with exhaustion that has no name.

Every combination he can think of brings Yoongi undesirable results. He has the fatigue of many different illnesses, but not any of the others. Mono seems the most likely, but still, it doesn’t feel right.

Yoongi considers and then types a new search: constant exhaustion after sex.

The results make him roll his eyes. He knows he’s going to get several ads for erectile dysfunction medication, but he scrolls anyways. Maybe he’s just fucking you that hard. But he does remember blacking out after sex and… well he never feels great the next day.

Slowly tapping through pages, Yoongi sighs. There’s nothing that provides much thought beyond Yoongi knowing he’s had too much sex. You’re a starving little thing, constantly wanting –

A word catches his attention: succubus.

Yoongi snorts when he opens the article. It’s a weird string of evangelical stories and musings, and overly sexualized depictions of female demons with generous breasts, shapely figures, and cute little bat wings.

The succubus needs sexual desire and energy to survive. He scoffs and wonders what heterosexual male wrote that dream.

Repeated sexual activity with a succubus will result in a bond being formed between the succubus and the host.

“Romantic,” Yoongi deadpans, scrolling up to close out the article. But a drawing catches Yoongi’s eye - a shadowy figure with rows and rows of teeth and red eyes. “Huh.”

Clicking on it, the page loads to a Reddit thread. Yoongi curses when he has to download the app, but his fingers move of their own volition, tapping across the screen as he creates a login and reopens the thread.

There are streams and streams of comments and links on the thread, a little overwhelming. As expected, it sounds like most heterosexual men overly-sexualizing women or asking about roleplaying – and yet, there’s a thread with a lot of upvotes that he clicks on.

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures following me. Yoongi licks his lips, feeling his mouth go dry as he continues. Blackouts after sex. Not able to remember life before meeting entity. Dead animals –

“Kitty?” Yoongi flinches, dropping the phone on his stomach, hand covering his chest as his heart pounds in his ribcage. You blink in surprise, cocking your head where you stand in the doorway. A sense of dread draws a slow finger down Yoongi’s spine as he stares at you. “Do you want to come watch with me? We can put on Spirited Away.”

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures-

“Kitty?” Yoongi has waited too long to reply. He nods his head and clears his throat. He wants to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being, shoving the phone away from him as he slowly peels himself out of bed. You grin and hold out a hand. “Thanks.”

Like a cat, you’re curled on the couch. Yoongi gives you a wide berth as he walks to his office. Night has passed into morning, and the flash of the screen lights the way as he opens the door, slipping through a tiny crack before he closes it softly and firmly behind him.

While watching movies, Yoongi could not help but think about the thread he had seen. He doesn’t turn the light on, too afraid of it showing under the door and tipping you off where he is.

Fear settles in the pit of his stomach. His hands are shaky as he wakes up the mouse, the computer light nearly blinding in the dark room. He jams the settings on the keyboard, turning it down a bit as he settles into the chair, taking a few breaths.

It feels ridiculous. You’re his girlfriend, not a sex-craving demon. But Yoongi finds the thread again anyways, clicking through and going back to that original subthread of people claiming to have survived an encounter with a succubus.

Time doesn’t seem to pass as Yoongi reads. He leans on his hand, eyes burning as he clicks through story after story.

Met at a bar – she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I never remember going home with her, but my life was suddenly consumed by her. I lost my job and my friends. Felt good at first, but started getting headaches any time I would try to remember something. And she was always around, always lurking around every corner.

Yoongi clicks on to the next one, stomach flipping nervously.

- I ran into a friend and she swore we hadn’t spoken in months. I remember talking to her but it felt like… they were false memories. Like I didn’t really do those things. It was strange, but I forgot again after a while.

Taehyung’s face flashes in Yoongi’s mind. His palms get sweaty as he navigates the mouse, leaning closer toward the screen. A nervous beat starts to drum up in his heart as he pours over the words and the accounts of others.

The evidence is damning, but it can’t be possible, right?

Yoongi thinks of Old Ass Han telling the story of his son being swept up by a she-demon. Yoongi doesn’t think the story is very funny anymore, and the thought of Jimin dressing up as one makes him nauseous.

Carefully, he navigates to another thread.

I was lucky. She didn’t want to kill me, but she was constantly hungry for more energy that I didn’t have. She would get cagey and feral, hissing at me and hiding in the dark, like she was weaker in the sun when she wasn’t fed. I would find packs and packs of meat rotting in the garbage like she was trying to get her fix elsewhere.

I hope that you take this thread seriously. They are real. And while they look and talk like people, they aren’t. They might grow attached to you, but they don’t love you. You are a meal – and if your succubus is only feeding off of sex, it’s only a matter of time before they need more.

Think Jennifer’s Body, people.

Yoongi has never seen that movie before. He clicks away from the thread and pulls up the trailer. It seems a little ridiculous, but he gets the idea. Sex, eat the guy, move on to the next. But you certainly have never tried to eat him.

So Yoongi clicks back to the thread and searches for something new. How to get rid of a succubus.

He leans back while the page loads, switching to a white screen. This bright, the monitor reflects what’s in front of it, Yoongi’s round and tired face, pale from lack of sleep, and a looming shadow behind him. His stomach plummets and he goes rigid in the chair, frozen with fear.

Yoongi smells cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

"Kitty is looking at bad things,” you sniffle. Your shadow grows in the computer monitor and Yoongi swears he sees the white flash of teeth before his world turns red. "I loved you, Kitty."

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #suga bts #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x demon reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #min yoongi #happy haliween #haliiimede writes #minors dni #minors do not interact #tw manipulation #tw supernatural #tw dead animal

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transfem-tomboy-oni · 3 months

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I feel like I should jjust give up on all my "good" qualities and stop trying to be a "good person" and fighting sgainst all my bad qualities. I. I start to feel like there's nothing good coming of it for me, and not enough good for anyone else to actually keep bothering with me.

I feel like the positive things I get told the most is that I'm nice, and that I'm beautiful.

But. Apparently I'm not enough of either for people to... stick around.

I don't know. Even now I don't know what to write. Cuz it might might people unhappy. But.

Maybe I'll try to let what I feel out, for just this once;

I do my fucking hardest, successfully too most of the time, to make people happy, to help them, to make them feel comfortable around me. Cuz all my life no ones ever done that for me. In school people gave no two shits about me, unless it was to make fun of me or get their homework done easier. FOR 9 DAMNED YEARS. Then I switched schools. I guess I had friends. Friends that, as soon as they were not forced to be in the same classroom as me either cut contact or essentially bullied me online. Since then I haven't made friends in person. My own mom has been there for me. As in. Provided for food, entertainment and ignoring my existence otherwise. I got hugged by her for the first time I can remember when I tried offing myself and telling her that I thought I wasn't worth anything and she didn't love me. She graced herself to hug me long enough so I stopped crying and then pushed me away and went back to watching TV alone telling me to go cuz SHE NEEDS A MOMENT. My dad is just inept. Nice. Trying his best. I guess. I used to see him once every 2 weeks, and we talked like 2 hours maybe, where he left me completely to myself otherwise. The person I had contact and an actual "friendship" with the longest eventually started using that friendship and manipulating and breaking apart my entire friend group to just fucking use me as his damned sex toy whenever he felt like it. And I didn't realize for what? 8 or more damned years. That friend group is now so splintered and fucked that I don't even know what the fuck to do about it. Do I still want them? Do they still want me? Pretty sure they don't enjoy me around anymore tbh. Newest friends I made are from therapy or from tumblr, and it's like 5 people in total, 1 if which I haven't talked to in 2 months as I assume she doesn't give a shit about me anymore, at least not that I could tell. And I still really really damned like her but I wish I fucking didn't cuz it's fucking tearing me apart. I suppose I got used to her being there for me and when she wasn't when I was at 2 of my absolute lowest points my mind just broke or something idk. 2 of them I met in therapy and one of them is nice but doesn't have time, which is okay but also annoying to be honest, but it's not her fault I suppose, and the other ignores me whenever she can. The newest 2 ppls I met are nice but I feel like they either are scared of me, I guess at this point rightfully so or don't actually care.

I keep saying that I'm not super likeable when you stick around me for too long and everyone always tells me they don't think so but somehow the only people that seem to have sticked around for years either did cuz they had no choice or in one case because they didn't actually like me and just enjoyed my body.

So. My honest feelings, no one actually cares about making me happy. I want to be treated the way I try my hardest to treat everyone else. I. I'm tired of having and making friends. I can't bear it. I can't bear being alone either. I have been for too long. I. I want this to end, not my life, just this this this dambed conflict of everything. I feel such conflicting things. I'm trying my hardest to make things right for everyone. And I feel like I am not getting enough back to even keep me going until 30.

Love is conditional. And I don't think I am capable of meeting these conditions. Besides all my hatred for how I'm being treated. I still only blame one person. Myself. For just not being good enough.

I wasn't wanted in this world. I was conceived on accident. And I feel that in the way my mother treats me.

But I hoped that maybe someone else doesn't.

Maybe I'll be able to hold on long enough until I can find someone that does want me. Maybe.

I hold so much hope. For such a hopeless person. Such a hopeless world. I wish I could give up.

#nem's ventposting

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bookishjules · 5 months

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Hi Jules,

Saw your post about RWBY. I have seen up through V8. PLEASE tell me all your hot takes. (If they’re anything like your sohae analyses then they’re going to be immaculate). <3

omg welcome to the list of followers i know watch rwby!! (it's a small list, but it's also one of my favorites hehe) idk that i have any esp hot takes?? but i'd love to talk about something that's been on my mind a lot recently..?

that thing is the schnee family... i personally am a huge sucker for the mechanics and evolution of family dynamics and how each individual functions within and outside of it. and aside from the belladonnas, whose family web has a third of individual relationships as the schnees, weiss's family is really the only one we get the privy of seeing in totality?? which i think is really interesting considering they are also the most public family of any of our mcs--even pyrrha, who was more known for her own name than her family's.. but i digress.

so much of the character of the schnee family really is based around that public persona, the facade they each present to the world. while we aren't very familiar with the former heads of the family, or of the sdc, i'm still inclined to believe a lot of this attitude was brought to the family by jacques, who has been acting since day one. he acted like he was in love. he donned the schnee name. he dyed his hair white. he swept willow aside, took her family's legacy from her, and then spent the rest of his life pretending like he deserved to be where he was and manipulating people into playing along. and of course behind every facade is something worth hiding. for jacques i think there was a lot of insecurity and fear there--youthful desperation that he was never quite able to move past because of his choice to take the cheater's way to the top.

willow, on the other hand, seems to move through life with a lot more vulnerability--loving jacques. loving their children. i'm sure there's probably an amount of safety and security growing up as a schnee heiress that resulted in her never having to form that shell that jacques did, but that's exactly why he was able to get into the power position in their relationship, and making it so she just gave up when jacques showed his cards to her, bc she didn't have anything up her sleeves.

and i think its really interesting to consider the kids growing up in this climate.. each of them learning in their own ways what parts of themselves to control and diminish vs. which strengths were valuable to play to. even with both winter and weiss stepping out from their father's control, the effects of their upbringing still follows them. they saw the powerless position their mom was reduced to because she didn't demand respect the way their father did, she didn't walk into a room with the air of the most important person in it, at least not within the confines of their family--because why would she? meanwhile, jacques, who viewed their relationship as nothing more than a stepping stool, a business transaction, would have maintained that facade and that attitude no matter how intimate the setting. and of course both girls would notice and internalize that at a young age. we see it in weiss, especially during the beacon arc. and even winter's choice to become a soldier, and then her ability to move herself up to the top of ironwood's ranks... they wanted to escape the pressure of their father's thumb, but they just carried his lessons with them, adapting them to their own lives. school and the army. and then that's something they need to unlearn. or rather.. they need to learn to tap into the heart they inherited from their mom as well, to fight against the fear of weakness and collapse that they associate with softness. it's in much of weiss's arc throughout the series, and we see it in winter as well as we reach the end of the 8th volume and she's struggling between her personal beliefs and ironwood's as he continues to devolve. without the rules and control that ironwood brought, winter is then forced to tap into her heart.

whitley on the other hand... whitley fascinates me. since he was younger than both his sisters, he would have had less time to see their mom as her genuine self before she lost herself to depression, paranoia, and alcoholism. for whitley, the only option was to be like his father, which only makes it harder for him to see the distinction between who he is and the controlled front he presents to others. his relationship with weiss, his small bits of character development we've seen so far, are so important to me, because it really shows the possibility for all three of these kids to grow beyond the trauma that perpetuated within the walls of their icy mansion. even down to the one who suffered the worst of it all by himself. willow once told weiss not to forget about her brother, so i refuse to stop projecting hope in his direction.

#sorry that was probably so much longer than you wanted. their family just makes my brain go brrrr #the way i could probably write almost as long a post about each of the kids too sadkhfjls #your username-icon combo is incredible btw. i get such a kick out of it every time i see you in my notes hehe #<33 #asks #rwby #weiss schnee #winter schnee #whitley schnee #willow schnee #jacques schnee

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bonebirds · 6 months

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I don't normally do this and I honestly feel like it's... bad, somehow, but it's a pretty small circle here and idk, I just need some kind of validation or... something? Look I'm bad at this but I am really trying /o\ Everything is just fucked and internet hugs would be nice.

Work:

ignored my original request for medical leave in March

instead tried to PIP me in April (HR intervened and was like, why? All this employee's feedback is positive and they've never been an issue?)

ignored my request for medical leave in May

granted 2 weeks PTO for me to move in the summer but my director also included things like "you will never get benefits for medical issues" and "if you have to quit, I'll help you get a job somewhere else" (paraphrasing) but that if I kept asking for time off, I'd... be... in trouble, vaguely? I'm basically treated like he wants to fire me but alas, cannot :( He does promise to look into any employee emergency funds or help given everything outside of work sounds Bad. He never does.

I emailed HR in June to be like, "my doctor is advising I stop working because I am becoming physically ill from stress and can't function, I am having daily panic attacks logging into work, and btw, my manager has been emotionally manipulating me into working through this illness despite my doctor's documentation" and never heard back.

After I moved, in September they moved me to a team where they did not train me on anything, and my health continued to deteriorate until I just didn't show up for a week and my new manager actually helped get HR involved. I was at this point visibly in meetings losing my fucking mind and calling out former managers for driving this all.

work agrees to grant me paid medical leave but will get back to me about how much of my salary I'll collect on leave. I am given Sept 20-December 31 off.

They don't get back to me at all, and I collect a full month's salary in October. NB: we get paid once a month, at the end of it. This took 5-6 weeks of ignoring the process on their end.

9 days before being paid for November, I'm told I can burn the rest of whatever PTO I have but they will not be paying for this leave. They don't tell me how much that is.

undoing pretty much any and every progress I'd made on de-stressing and recovering from everything else, triggering a shingles attack, and I have zero savings, zero benefits, and zero fucking idea about what to do aside from try to fight for paid leave

I am putting this here mostly because it's too much to hold in my head all at once, ever, and I try to break the last 9 months down and just... like, my god? I showed up to work during all of that. I asked for more and more to do. I did the training and the meetings and the job, and... I am paying out of pocket for treatment because no one there gives a shit and everyone believes the manager I emailed HR about (since fired!***) because she never documented... anything.

So I look like I did nothing for a year and then just asked for leave to cover my ass.

*human trafficking**

**I'm not kidding and I'm really fucking tired of trying to kid about it or talk around it because just being like 'haha, life events" or "drama!" is vague enough I guess people are like "yeah I stress sometimes too" when it's more like "my organs were physically shutting down from stress and I had a complete nervous breakdown when I realized what was going on" :|

*** There's so many layers to this because we were friends before co-workers but she also spent months trying to keep me in a city where I was actually in danger and gaslighting me about helping with it all so she could keep me in the city, so, you know. That was going on too?

I'm not really looking for advice (I'm in the process of looking into what legal protections I have, don't worry) so much as... I don't know. This is fucked, right? This has just reached a level of fucked where I don't know how to keep trying. I was fighting for this job because if I could just pay off another, like, ten grand of debt I'll be okay enough to breathe a little, and I like the folks I work with and it's not a bad gig, and I quit a PhD for this place, and them paying this leave was literally going to be a saving grace I so needed, and...

Yeah.

If nothing else, like, I get to be mad about this, right? I'm trying so hard to actually let myself be mad without flinching from that feeling because it's like all or nothing, I am just defeated and crying and giving up or I am breathing fire and going for their jugular, and neither is practically helpful.

I don't know, man.

But yeah there you go, that's why I had to move accounts suddenly and lost, oh, 98% of my social circle earlier this year 😵‍💫

Jusssssst.

At least typing it all out and looking at it square in the face like that is, yeah. That's horrific treatment. And worth fighting. Even if it's just a few grand, or... something. I don't know. I'm just so fucking hollow all the time again. I was just so close to somewhere less precarious, emotionally and financially.

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cookierin-simp · 1 year

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Some of the stories I didn't publish/finish + reason pt 1

1) CYBERSEX - Mammon X fem reader

i felt like I was writing a story where Mammon cheated on MC bcs originally, he played Omegle version of Devildom and connected to MC but didn't know it was her. They both jacked off. Doesn't this sounds wrong lol...

2) NIGHT SNACK - Beelzebub X Fem reader

Too many hard position to describe...

3) PRANKED! - All of the brothers X fem reader

Feel like this is way too vanilla and normal. It's like straight out of an ordinary porn that Brazzers would produce and I don't like that.

4) NEVER ENOUGH - Lucifer X fem reader

This was supposed to be a jealous sex. But there were lots of scene where MC get manipulated by Lucifer. In this story, MC and Lucifer used to love each other but none of them admit so MC settled for Diavolo because he confessed.

They ended up having sex because Lucifer tricked MC that she still love him. (I'm using she because it's lucifer x fem reader)

5) TWO IS BETTER THAN ONE! - Mammon X fem reader X clone fem reader

6) FIGHT! - Diavolo X fem reader X Barbatos

I love this prompt but idk why I stopped it. Maybe I felt like it was way too hard to comprehend for the readers? The story goes like, you were doing an experiment and something happened. Mammon come in and help as he realised you have created your own clone and you and your clone were extremely horny.

I fucking love this idea. But the way i wrote this was like a child. This story is about you making a bet with Diavolo (as u can clearly see). I kinda glad I didn't post this because I was laughing by how immature my writing was. Plus, the TYPOS WERE TOO MUCH.

6) SLAVES OF ROPES - Diavolo X fem reader X Barbatos

I stopped this because I need to carefully plan the sex scene. This fanfic is BDSM based and because I know for sure Diavolo is into bdsm. Fuck.

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lyriumlullaby-ao3 · 7 months

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So could you please give your TED talk about Meredith Stannard and why you want to rip her throat out with your teeth?

ahhh yes lmao i forgot i said that! disclaimer as i get into this that i think she's an amazing character and a great antagonist, and i'm by no means saying that anybody shouldn't like her. (idk, i just don't wanna get rude asks or anything if this post makes the rounds!)

okay so i mean, aside from the basic black and white thinking that, combined with the paranoia and other issues brought on by the red lyrium, made her behave tyrannically and commit ethical missteps with the mages under her charge, i have serious problems with the way she treats Cullen. let's just take a tally of how that goes, yes?

the kid is no older than 20 when he arrives in Kirkwall, and he is immediately made Knight-Captain, as far as I can tell. he was 19 during the events of Origins, and he says in Inquisition that he took his vows at 18, so he's just plain old 'knight-templar' when shit goes down in Ferelden. that's a leap of two ranks by the time he gets to Kirkwall. and granted, after the events with Uldred and all he probably gets promoted to Knight-Lieutenant out of sheer necessity, but still! 20 years old. second in command of one of the largest circles in Thedas. and yes, i think she did that on purpose. being younger and less experienced makes him easier to manipulate.

i also think it's likely that she chose him based on what happened in Ferelden. (and yes, i do think she chose him. i don't think he would have ended up in that position without Meredith's express approval.) i think she probably saw in him something of a kindred spirit based on his disapproval and hostility towards mages at that point in time, and wanted like-minded people on her team as she sought to exert power and control over the circle there. because let's be honest: the red lyrium made her faults worse, but it didn't manufacture them. otherwise, we would have seen the exact same mage panic in Bartrand, but his paranoia took a very different form.

we know she kept things from Cullen. 'things he wouldn't approve of,' he tells us in Inquisition. it was his job to keep her in check, relieve her of duty if she got out of control, and so she concealed things from him that might have led him to do so. if those first two weren't red flags, this one should be a dozen red flags plus neon lights plus sirens.

okay, so with that in mind, i'm going a little off book now, away from the canon and into speculation based on my understanding of the world. as Knight-Commander, Meredith would have directly overseen the lyrium rations of (if not most/all of Kirkwall's templars, then certainly) Cullen. he answered directly to her and no one else. that's one hell of a tool to use to exert power over someone. and i believe she probably did. i think she probably utilized her control of his access to lyrium to control his behavior, either by reducing his rations or increasing them, whichever suited her needs. as a recovering addict myself, this thought makes my stomach turn.

so all in all... this list makes me sick. it disgusts me to think of the ways she must have been manipulating him, playing on his fears and trauma and addiction and naivety to get what she wanted. this list reads to me like abuse, and i hate that for Cullen. sure, he wasn't a great person at that point in time, and that's partly due to trauma and partly due to anger and prejudice.

but how much of it is due to Meredith?

#anyway that's it. that's the ted talk.#hope it lived up to your expectations lol #antares' meta #antares speaks #cullen rutherford #meredith stannard #da2

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idyllic-affections · 4 months

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YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, ALL THE DRAGON KID-FRIEND-SIBLING HUGS FOR FURINA.

It bugged me so god damn much how we never actually apologized to her at ANY POINT for what happened. Yes, it needed to happen, yes it was something that was absolutely inevitable if we wanted to save Fontaine from the wrath of Celestia, and finally free Furina from her torment. But we still manipulated, lied, and put her in an extremely uncomfortable position to achieve that end.

You'd think the least we could offer was a brief "I'm sorry."

🐉Anon

JUST LIKE. IDK. I NEED TO HUG HER SO FUCKING TIGHTLY DUDE SHE DESERVES SO MUCH AFTER EVERYTHING SHE SUFFERED THROUGH. DID ANYONE EVER SAY "I'M SORRY"?? NO. AND NOT EVEN A "THANK YOU"...... BRO THESE PEOPLE ARE SO FUCKED UP, DIDN'T EVEN THANK HER FOR NOT GETTING THEM ALL KILLED, BUT SHE LOVES THEM ANYWAYS AND STILL THINKS THAT THEIR ANGER TOWARDS HER IS VALID AND JUSTIFIABLE 🙏🙏🙏 GOD. MY ROMAN EMPIRE FR. FONTAINE IN GENERAL IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE NOW. I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT HOW INHERENTLY TRAGIC ITS STORY WAS. YES FORCING FURINA'S HAND WAS NECESSARY, BUT GOD??!?!???? YOU ALL COULD, IDK, APOLOGIZE?????? EVERYTHING SHE DID WAS FOR THE PEOPLE OF FONTAINE. EVERYTHING. AND YET YOU ALL THINK YOU JUST GET TO MOVE ON? NO. APOLOGIZE. RIGHT FUCKING NOW 🗣🗣❗️❗️❗️❗️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

idk man. just imagine. perhaps neuvi's child was born shortly after she was instated as the "hydro archon," or perhaps slightly before. it really doesn't matter. the point is that they've known her all their life. she's like family to them at this point (Umm. something something a dragon's possessiveness of their loved ones..... Yeah) and to see how literally no-one has bothered offering her an apology or a thank you for her efforts makes something unidentifiable burn in their chest. i choose to believe that neuvillette apologized 😇 or we could go with canon and say he didn't, and you know... slight father/child angst. anyway. so, when seeing how no one has apologized and thanked her, they decide to do it themselves. they get her address from their father and show up to her home with a lakelight lily and one of her favorite cakes (they remembered, of course they did, she's their best friend, why wouldn't they remember?). and when she invites them in, because... they're probably the first person to come seek her out, you know? she would miss them after moving out. :( they quietly set down the gifts they've brought for her and just squeeze their arms around her. and quietly apologize to her and tell her that all of her efforts have been acknowledged (by them, at least), and they're so proud and thankful because fontaine would literally be gone by now if it werent for her.

idk i am so normal about furina i promise (is lying) 🙏🙏

#aphelion replies: 🐉 anon 🌸

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rinhaler · 6 months

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I've been thanking A LOT about your plug!Sukuna and I wanted to share a thot

imagine after a smoke sesh where you managed to trick him and smoke wayyy less than him so you can be in control of the situation bc you want something from him that you know he's not willing to give in his five senses

You kiss his neck and ask him to let you fuck him (not that he needs much convincing but deep down you know he's aware you are into something) when everything is said and done you are on top pinning him by the wrists while he's inside but you won't move until he promises to give you what you want (IDK WHAT IS IT I DIDN'T THINK THAT FAR I'M JUST HORNY) and he know he could turn the whole situation around, he's stronger than you buuut his mind is so foggy and you feel so good and maybe he's feeling a little sub for some reason all he can do is wiggle and fuck himself against you biting his lip while we contemplates to give you whatever the fuck you little heart desires but he knows if he gives in just one time you are going to become extra bratty and belive you can get whatever you want whenever you want it from him just in exchange of some pussy (you totally can but he's won't admit and doesn't want you to know) eventually when he realizes he won't be able to cum like this Sukuna agrees but let's really clear you own him something, maybe a position he always wanted to try and you absolutely refuse, or to let him get your ass virginity, or some kinky shit he is interested at the moment bc Sukuna always has to win and always has to be in control of the situation.

anyways sorry bc i know is a lot, luv you🥺❤️

HI HI IM SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO THIS

I have no doubt in my mind that Sukuna has a crush on the reader. But despite him and Yuuji not really getting along I know he cares for his little brother and ultimately wouldn't want to hurt him or betray him like that. That's why he would have made a point of telling Yuuji that he wants to fuck the reader rather than just doing it without permission.

So, to that end, I think the reader could very easily manipulate Sukuna into doing what she wanted. But I don't think she's that kinda girl! She's sweet and shy but is sooooo different when it comes to Sukuna. She's really tense and uncomfortable and she will always try to stay loud and confident and put him in his place but he can so easily have her cowering and doing what he wants.

But if she got the upperhand in a situation like you described? He would fooooold. If she had a clear head and he was a little fucked up from smoking she could definitely wrap him around her little finger. His crush on her would blind him completely.

I think he'd be sooooo mad at us though like how DARE you get me in this compromising position how dare you make me so weak and pathetic 😭

ohhhhhh i love this ask thank you so much im sorry if i worried you by taking so long to reply!! i really appreciate all of my asks and i like to take the time to think about what i wanna say and write a response! i can see you put a lot of thought and effort into this so i wanted to try and do the same for you <3 thank you so much for reaching out and sending me this i love ur big big brain heheheh pls take care and look after yourself!

#💌 — luxe mail #AITA sukuna #luv you 2 :3

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livingfictionsystem · 3 months

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So, my adhd/autistic freind has a grandmother with NPD who was extremely abusive towards her family, but i’m worried about my friends ableism towards other people with npd. she’s not met very many but she’s under the very common impression that everyone with npd is an abuser and an asshole, and idk if should get involved because her family was so hurt by someone with npd, but at the same time i’m worried about the way she’d behave if she met another person with npd in the future. do you have any advice?

Oooof.

Sparrow here. I'm sorry about your friend's family, sounds like some real generational trauma going on there.

Anecdotal storytime, sorry if this is rambly.

I did, a couple years ago, have a pretty big grudge against Borderline folks. My most recent abuser, Rowan, had borderline. We were on a pedestal, yknow, until we weren't. Same with my cohost's ex, AJ. A shitty ex-metamor of mine has BPD. I was straight up sick of pwBPD.

I know a lot about psychology but even I had this unfair anecdotal stereotype of someone locking themselves in the bathroom and hating you/needing you until you were stressed enough to give them what they wanted.

I knew *I* had some kinda serious disorder and was looking into bipolar when the highly ironic suggestion of Borderline hit me right in the face. And I mean I was TEXTBOOK, still am. I was in denial for a WHILE. The last thing I wanted was to see any reflection of my abuser in me. And people around me didn't really disparage NPD because they already had Xanthe's glittery, spotlight-hogging, self-aggrandizing self and thought they were p cool, but even people I was close with would take jabs at Bordies and I'd laugh along with them. I kept doing intense research just to prove it wrong in me and ended up proving it more and more right.

Then finally, I saw some positive examples. One of my besties in the outerworld has Borderline. Bojack Horseman, of all things, really helped me accept it in myself. I joined some online support groups. I see how loving we are, how creative, how most of us make fun of our own mood swings and our sui-ideation. How protective we are, how our impulsivity ends up with some really cool experiences and connections.

Now I've accepted it. But it would've been a lot harder of a road if I didn't have positive examples. And yknow Borderline is p much a half sibling to Narcissism.

Xanthe and Jasper were my great examples of NPD. Their hyper-independence, how that manipulative side can be used to talk friends out of spirals or abusive relationships, how they make sure everyone who benefits them has some sort of give-and-take even if they have to pull strings to do it, the intense insecurity and self-loathing under the arrogant facade. And omg are they masters at social chess, which is awesome when my tactless ass is floundering in turmoil and people wanna cancel me by proxy.

It's really only gonna be positive rep that does it for some people. Maybe your friend has a fave character that actually fits the NPD profile. (Alastor from Hazbin gives me NPD vibes p hard tbh.) Tons of creatives have it, like literally being self-absorbed is part of being famous lol. If you've got good examples to work with, it becomes a Lot easier.

Even better if you've got someone willing to poke fun at their disorder and educate. I can also always drop more NPD stories/memes/resources for you to have in your arsenal. And even just educating about other traumagenic disorders like BPD and DID and stuff may help other disorders by proxy, the same logic does apply.

But your friend may never accept it. And that would suck. But people want to blame a set of stereotypes rather than the casual cruelty of the universe. It's up to you whether that becomes a topic that you two just can't talk about or if it ends a friendship tbh.

But yeah sorry for the ramble, I hoped the more raw experience might help the perspective. Lmk if you have any specific scenarios or anything!

-Sparrow 🧷

#narcissistic personality disorder #npd #borderline personality disorder #bpd #stigma #cluster b #ask #psychology nerd to the rescue #anon

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weebsinstash · 1 year

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As someone who reads a lot but has no experience writing myself I didn't notice any drop in quality. It seemed to be the same level to me and I particularly enjoy your characterization of mic and aizawa as well as the added depth from the scene between mic and the repair guy. However if I HAD to give a criticism the part about the guy from when reader was young felt a little too long, the same could kinda be said for the exposition about the mom but that felt important enough to the readers persona that it was necessary. These aren't really that bad but its just a personal opinion!

I still absolutely loved the chapter though it was a delightful treat that I thoroughly enjoyed reading!

Maybe that was the part that one person didnt like, the exposition stuff? I really wish they had left a little more constructive criticism besides just telling me straight up "this should have stayed in your drafts, youre out of practice and i can tell" because how tf am I supposed to catch my mistakes and improve without good feedback 🥺 everyone has different standards for what they read so feedback from all different kinds of people could really be beneficial...

Anyways!

So while it was kind of an exposition/info dump, the part with the Reader having an inappropriate relationship with a stranger online specifically a male one is actually relevant to several things, which if it hasn't been apparent due to the fact he's never been mentioned, Reader's father was not present in her life, and not because he's dead or anything (it really isnt a massive spoiler to tell you guys he was just a deadbeat and Reader's mom had full custody and he kind of just pissed off and will make a brief unimportant cameo in the next installment of the series which will in fact be the last one, at least so is the plan). As someone with personal experience, you grow up as a young girl without a father and it can give you extremely different perspectives on men, especially when there has been abuse, and it can make you EXTREMELY VULNERABLE to positive male attention. It's to sort of establish a pattern of Reader needing a form of external acceptance and validation and how she has her own trauma and mental health struggles, especially in regards to men.

Like idk child abuse or being sexual with a kid tw but I remember when i used to go on Justin TV as a minor like idk probably 15 or 16, there was a streamer I would watch sometimes, his username was Tekker or something, and he eventually started getting flirty and stuff with me and in hindsight he was definitely uh a creep. I was a minor and he knew that and he'd be livestreaming him playing like resident evil and he'd like make jokes about, God what even was it, giving me anal as a punishment for being a smart-ass with him because you know obviously anal isn't, for everyone lmao and can hurt and like WOW

But even with those massive red flags I really liked the positive attention he gave me, like it legitimately got me flustered when I sent him my picture and he said I was beautiful and he would call me jailbait 💀 like I bought a microphone to chat with this dude and would play games on stream with him 💀💀💀 this is a subject I have personal experience with. It's kind of to establish Reader had Some Issues that leave her vulnerable to being manipulated by men and also making poor choices because she has deep abandonment issues and needing to be accepted and loved. So now, as it stands, she is slowly becoming complacent to her situation, especially when you also tackle that with the realization that if she were to get free she would go right back to a way of living that was legitimately making her miserable and suicidal

Like for real the planned ending I have for this story is probably going to make a decent number of you go Oh Honey Why Would You Do That :C

It's fucked up, but for Reader there are actually many benefits to her captivity and you couple that with her captors being excessively supportive and affectionate with her and you have a kidnapping victim slowly falling in love with her captors and saying "im a stupid idiot and I'll never have anything better and no one will probably love me like they so, and I'm a loser anyways, so I guess I'm just fucked, I probably deserve to die anyways, who cares what happens at this point, im too tired and apathetic to fight anyways"

Of course the fate of Reader's mom, which is kind of glaringly obvious tbh, but the exact details of what I will call The Mountain Incident are to be revealed in probably the next chapter or two? It's kind of just sadness porn but, it's another layer to why Reader kind of just fell apart and dropped out of Hero School and was too unable to handle the stress to work. Because realistically she experienced something extremely traumatic and had no support system while basically pushed into the deep end of being fully self sufficient and she eventually just burned out trying to do everything on her own, and then you have Mic and Eraser to the rescue to forever further skew her feelings of "see I'm helpless and stupid, I can't take care of myself, I should just let them make the decisions for me"

But yeah, thanks for submitting your feedback, it means a lot! General reception has been really nice so far and it's so nice to see how excited everyone is for an update and I'm looking forward to hopefully getting more things out soon! I'm just trying to even think of how many chapters are left? We're on 7 right now, so, hmm... at the current rate... I'd say... maybe 4 or 5? And then after this story is finished, I think the best course of action for the final part is that i write a significant portion of it before I upload anything so then that can combat being stuck in a plot hole and putting things off haha. Anyways thanks again!

#yandere stuff

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abyssmalice · 7 months

Text

// 4.2 story genshin spoilers

(alright everyone...................... time for my story Thonkies)

(so overall: it was a p good story, i feel like it wrapped up fontaine's overall story well enough.

emphasis on "well enough" bc i do feel like some parts of it were very, uh, how do i put it. "bullshitty" is a harsh word but there were def moments, especially when it was dropping exposition, that felt like the writers were kinda just pulling things out of their ass in order to explain things and therefore come up with a solution to conclude everything. in the vein of "X thing exists!! we're just telling you it exists Now, like 5 mins into the finale, without almost zero buildup to it" sort of vibe.

at least, i think i need to go over the prophecy and the heavenly principles stuff with a fine-toothed comb again later........ because the exposition on that felt very "just take us at our word for it" like when you think about it, How does the heavenly principles actually enact the prophecy? especially when the story outright throws a "the root of the prophecy's effects is the whale"?? the implication is that the prophecy and all it entails is "fated", and thus, it's not that the heavens literally orchestrated the whale and stuff (well unless they want to prove me wrong on that in the next couple of AQs) - but that they have the ability to manipulate or enforce "fate". the "law" of the world and all that bs essentially. and fontaine's fate was meant to be that prophecy, leaving the finer details up to whatever actually happens.

BUT THIS STILL TAKES A BIT OF THINKING TO FIGURE OUT AND ALSO KINDA FEELS WEIRDLY OUT OF NOWHERE AND ITS LIKE, AS A WRITER I THINK IT'S COOL BUT ALSO GOD DAMN DID IT FEEL LIKE IT CAME OUT OF JUST NOWHERE-

anyway, this isn't to say the AQ was bad. no, i honestly think it was really good, i genuinely liked it, even if i feel like the execution of some parts was. weird. essentially lmao

ANYWAY THATS MY ONLY REAL MAJOR GRIPE, LET ME GET INTO THE STUFF I ENJOYED THE HELL OUT OF:

aka fuwina........... ;A;

like ok girl, you win, ill roll for you. i am so fucking rolling for you once i have the primos-

the entire "acting" scene by scene.......... oh my god, it was so good, you really feel for her. i was utterly bawling my eyes out the entire time, personally. also idk about the other languages, but jp furina takes the fucking cake for me - all of her dialogue where she isn't putting up a front is voiced so softly, almost childishly—it really hammers in the point that furina really was, as focalors put it, "naive and inexperienced as my first day as a human" when first created - she was split into existence and purposefully left clueless on some knowledge (like focalors' plan for the prophecy) and lacking in any magical powers that could be considered godlike, hence human, and not-all-knowing or all-powerful as a god. a true human, a newborn young human.

in essence, a child thrust into the role of acting as something more than that, with dire consequences if that role was not played to perfection, with seemingly no end; any normal person would be crumbling under such weight, and furina more so as someone who, in the context of her own situation, didn't even know what the "plan" entailed besides what focalors' said - all she had was pure turned desperate belief that it would turn out okay because the other-her said so.

(i can already hear tonitoni awkwardly trying to share a juice box in the back of my brain.............. something something the solidarity of young girls thrust into positions of power without quite knowing what they were getting into years down the line but they knew there was something on the line and they would do what they can for those they loved and a god looked upon them and said, follow what i say, and everything will be well-)

anyway i havent played furina's story quest yet so thats all the fuwina thonks i have, but i sure hope it doesnt make me bawl again........

my other big thonks def have to do with the whale and the events around it (of course they do, what kinda blog is this again? tonitoni blog? yes and no)

i think the fight was pretty cool, tho i want to know why the actual hell we fought. that thing. inside the whale. besides the rule of cool factor. like is there a reason that was in there in the first place?? also why do some of its aoe attacks look like vishaps are trying to attack you.................... hey, what's going on here man......................

also the way skirk tosses not just choldee but also the whale into an abyssal-looking crack. like, ill get to childe in a second, but let me focus on how she actually just sucks the whale into a suspiciously quantum-looking ball before tossing it aside. (please tell me we're getting a quantum element. bc. maybe. that. that means. i-imaginary element.................. PLEASE I WANT TO GIVE MY TONIS AN EXCUSE TO SECRETLY HAVE EITHER QUANTUM OR IMAGINARY AS ONE OF THEIR ELEMENTS PLEAAAAAAASE-)

and skirk herself is still a pretty mysterious character, despite all the lore dumping she did. p much the only primary things strictly related to her character is that: 1) she has her own greater-scope master 2) is very much strength-focused (300 million swings........... yeah, i see where childe gets it now), 3) and bc of said views on the strong and the weak, she will only consider others her equal (and therefore, humor them at all) if they display truly exceptional strength (see: "without using powers from beyond this world")

(this also makes me think skirk would not even bother to blink at smol toni, but may in fact consider tol toni at least somewhat "an equal" due to that toni surviving millennia in the abyss due to a mixture of insanely stubborn determination + her actual elemental powers come purely from the leylines/irminsul and nothing else, so any honed skill is both technique and teyvat-related power. thooooo, considering the lore also says that the primordial one created the human realm and its leylines (which should implicate the irminsul too, considering it's also found in the abyss aka beyond the world itself??), well....... god fucking knows on that one really.

FUCK I WISH THE LORE ON LEYLINES AND IRMINSUL WASNT SO MESSED UP IN LOGIC!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS MESSING ME UP AS SOMEONE WHOSE MUSES' LORE RELIES ON THIS!!!!!!!)

anyway, i really want to know the logic behind her just. throwing childe. into the hole along with mr whale in a ball. im guessing, the implication is that it's just like, a random abyssal portal that will presumably spit out the whale into an abyssal garbage dump while childe will be sent somewhere he can be retrieved (and taken back to snezhnaya, thank god, tonitoni would never let him hear the end of it if her brother got thrown into ANOTHER unreachable destination after two AQs of being thrown into jail and then into a sealed sea).

still a weird jarring moment though, i agree with everyone on that........... really weird.

BUT HEY, AT LEAST WE HAVE WORD FOR WORD DIALOGUE SAYING CHILDE IS SUPER STRONG AND FOUGHT THAT STUPID WHALE FOR AGES ESSENTIALLY, i want no more complaints on how strong and cool he is (i am saying this bc toni will never say it but i know she'd want to say it but would hate saying it so im saying it for her)

there's some more stuff i wanna say, esp re: the third descender and the gnosis stuff, + some extra thonkies about "fate" esp in the context of my tonitonis. and with the fontaine AQ wrapped up here, i can probs start to safely figure out the full fontaine timeline for smol toni - but ill leave all that in a separate thonkie post)

#ooc | (written and loved and forgotten);#genshin spoilers #(this got. very. very long. rip lmao)#(also utterly incoherent)

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grayintogreen · 2 years

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Perhaps we'll get some insight into this in the Lucien book, but in the meantime:

Why do you think the Somnovem chose to find and repair Lucien's soul rather than just appointing a new Nonagon or something? Like it'd be one thing if there wasn't anyone else available but that wasn't the case. Vess actively wanted the position (and iirc she had all nine eyes so she was in contact with them) and the other Tombtakers were around too (granted they probably wouldn't have wanted it but still). Maybe Vess was their backup if they couldn't restore Lucien? Idk I just think it's interesting that they went through the trouble when they technically didn't have to.

Side note: How exactly did they "put his soul back together" anyway? Like how does that work?

This is gonna get into SOME headcanon territory, but I'm gonna try to stick with what is actually presented in canon and therefore what I've had to make up can at least be backed up by what we've seen and heard. I do have deeper theories about this, but they are literally things I made up for an Alternate History fanfic that I cannot use as basis for an analysis.

Now while we can't say for certain that Lucien was Fate-Touched or born under Ruidus or whatever and that is complete conjecture based on nothing, we do know one thing- he has red eyes and as far as we understand he has always had red eyes. Hold that in your head for a second.

There was a previous Nonagon, presumably the person who scribed the Tome, and for whatever reason, they weren't able to handle it. They went mad and burned up and died like a typical Betrayer God puppet (even if the Somnovem aren't gods- same basic idea). So here comes Lucien who finds the tome and has their eyes naturally. I feel like with everything we've seen of Age of Arcanum wizards, even broken fucked up ones, that seeing someone who has that kind of connection to you built in isn't something to be discarded.

So that's a point in his favor. Add that Lucien is a misunderstood dreamer (like they were), has a massive chip on his shoulder (easily manipulated), and responds well to the knowledge and power they give him without going completely cuckoo and exploding, he's basically the perfect Nonagon. That isn't to say that they couldn't have picked another one, but they put a lot of investment in one that clearly was working for them and his scraps were right there and easy to reach out and find. (Lest we forget that Cognouza is a fucking hoover vacuum slurping up everything that gets in its way as it floats in the astral sea.)

Now Vess, on the other hand... I do believe Lucien isn't bullshitting about her not having the imagination even if I think the "intended usurper" Christ metaphor he talks about is just him justifying what happened to him as something that needed to happen because that appears to be part of how he copes with trauma and life, in general. He spins the narrative to his advantage.

Also Vess is another wizard and the Somnovem are a fragmented fucked up hivemind, but they are still wizards. You don't invite another wizard, especially one who is more eager for knowledge and power than your vision (and Lucien CLEARLY believes in the vision- he just ended up thinking the Somnovem weren't doing it right), into your happy pretendy fun times society unless you want them to turn on you and take your shit for themselves. This is their hubris, I think- they believed VESS would turn on them to steal their information and try to overpower them, but they assumed Lucien, a lesser mortal, wouldn't, simply because that seems to be pretty normal for Age of Arcanum wizards.

As for how they got his soul fragments- they were likely keyed into him as the Nonagon and thus claimed by their magic and just followed his "scent" (which is how Lucien describes it exactly) and then used Cognouza's hoover powers to bring the shreds of Lucien's soul into Cognouza proper and rebuild it, which is an extremely weird way of saying "idk magic dream powers." They wanted him whole again so the aether made him whole again, and I'm sure that had NO EFFECT on his psyche whatsoever.

#my asks #lucien nonagon #critical role #critical role meta #this one i'll maintag because there's no headcanon in it that can't be backed up by canon

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detectivenyx · 2 years

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🔥I find Ruruka to be an interesting character that just needed more time to be developed 👀

i assume this is an ask asking for my unpopular opinion on ruruka

ruruka has an issue that a lot of morally dubious non-junko female DR characters have - that fans can be cruel and hypocritical when making up actual criticism of them.

'i don't like ruruka's character because it was rushed and we didn't see much' is understandable - 'i don't like ruruka because she is a manipulative asshole' is not (to me), especially when they claim to like literally any of the male antagonists. and i say this as someone who's dealt with multiple people like her.

i think she's pretty well developed for an anime-only character, and largely gets overshadowed by her treatment of seiko. she's a manipulative asshole because she is absolutely dependent on others (what good is a confectionery talent if you're the only one who can eat them?), and we see her absolute paranoia about being betrayed that she'll often stab people in the back herself to ensure they can't. the event nagito concocted that resulted in the giant split (and to be clear, while she wasn't treating seiko great, the two very clearly still trusted each other), and that likely was exacerbated by the literal apocalypse, then the killing game she got tossed into. her NG code not only exemplified her dependence on others, but also put her at an antagonistic position by default - she couldn't trust them and they couldn't trust her, because she would die. i dunno, i bought that she would be torn about killing sonosuke, but would do it in the end to save herself, given the absolute hellscape that was her psyche.

and in the very end she did still die brutally - we later see makoto's time-limit video prey upon his survivor's guilt, and though we do not see inside ruruka's head, i feel like her video would've preyed upon her paranoia - seiko demanding to know why she betrayed and hated her, sonosuke going back on what he said and saying he'd never forgive ruruka for what she did.

idk, she, celestia, and hiyoko for me, exemplify something that nobody ever really wants to acknowledge - that yes, these women are mean, self-serving, and ultimately might not be good people - but they didn't deserve to be thrown into a literal death game for it. they're as much victims as the others - not all victims are going to be saints.

#dr3 spoilers #ruruka andou #- nyx (they/she)

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