#he’s fucked up but he’s healin

[beans-and-shet]

Becoming human

#tokyo mew mew #ichisaya #ichigo momomiya #masaya aoyama #got this brainworm from s2 ep 9 #some good shit damn #he’s fucked up but he’s healin #i love this dynamic for them and it’s a guilty pleasure dynamic of mine in fiction in general #I mean c’mon *wipes tear* she saved him it’s so sweet #wish the tmm writers would have explicitly leaned into this dynamic more before the big reveal #was listening to what’s color while drawing this haha #my dumb art

[jayke0]

Nicotine Lust

Summary: Your attempts to keep your smoking kink under wraps become futile once you're reassured that your boyfriends’ lungs aren't at stake.

A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction 's smoking Steven, so i wanted to do smth from Jake's perspective ❤️.

Also if you know which tiktok lady Jake’s talking about then bonus points to you!

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: smoking, afab reader!, g/n nicknames, I've never smoked so forgive me if literally all of it is wrong, blowjob, face fucking, ‘fucktoy’ nickname, ‘slut’ nickname, Dom!Jake, Sub!Reader, p in v, unmentioned protection, riding, doggy style, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 4,020 (yeah… I'm pretty sure this is my longest fic yet.😅)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily. And Fen ofc ofc.

…………………………………......................………….

You hate to admit it, but when Jake smokes, it's like an automatic switch is clicked in your brain; like you're literally being turned on.

It's wrong, so so wrong. You don't want to be getting turned on by something that is ultimately ruining your boyfriend's lungs, all three of your boyfriends’ lungs.

It's only when you mention it to him one day that he settles your worries.

“The suit heals ‘em.”

“What?? For real?”

“ ‘Course! That's the whole point of it.”

You raise a brow. “It's not for you to heal your black lung.”

“Well no, but it's for healin’, ain't it?” He pulls out his packet of tobacco and places it on the windowsill, along with his papers. His fingers work meticulously as he lays out the paper and lines up the tobacco, sprinkling it onto the paper like he's decorating fucking cupcakes with chocolate sprinkles.

“I thought ya liked it anyway.”

You have to drag your eyes away from the man's hands as he rolls the cylinder between his fingers. “What? No... that's weird.”

Your boyfriend cocks an eyebrow at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Really? So that look that ya give me, or the way ya watch my hands ain't got nothin’ to do with ya gettin’ all hot and bothered?” He brings it to his lips, running his tongue along the edge of the paper in a way that makes your cheeks heat up and your arms fold over your chest defensively.

Jake is easily the best at reading you and your body, especially when it comes to your not-so-subtle arousal.

Your eyes move back to his hand, watching him push the filter into the end with his middle finger before rolling the other end shut.

“No, I just find it interesting. It's good for me to know how to roll a cig… I guess.” Your words trail off as you realize how dumb that sounds; there's no way in hell that Jake lockley is going to believe that lie.

“For who? Ya side piece?” He jokes, the smirk turning into a full-grown grin while he brings the now formed cigarette to his lips. It's only when he flips open his lighter and the flame lights up the end that you come to the conclusion there's no point in hiding it… not now that you know they're safe.

“Alright!... I like it, is that what you wanted?”

“Show me.” His lips are pressed together tightly to keep the cigarette in place, but he's learnt how to talk out of the gap in his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“Show me how much ya like it.” The man's voice is deeper now as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales a cloud of smoke, considerately not blowing it in your direction; and fuck if it doesn't make you squirm.

You want to sink to your knees right there, rip his black jeans from his thick thighs and suck him dry, but your stubbornness stops you. “I'm not some kinda fuck toy, Jake!”

“Ya weren't sayin’ that last night, were ya?” The cigarette meets his lips again and his chest expands as he takes in a long drag, not being as considerate with where he blows it this time.

You irritatedly waft the smoke away from your face, but his gaze, oh lord the way his eyes glare at you, a dark stare that pushes you to your knees anyway as if he has the fucking force. Resting your hands on his knees, you part them slowly, keeping your eyes transfixed on his as you slide your hands up his bulky thighs and over his crotch, all while he takes another drag.

“Good fucktoy.” He says with a playful tone as he pets your head condescendingly, the name and gesture ultimately turning you on more while you toy with his belt buckle to pry his jeans open. “Eager, ain't we? I love it when you're this eager, mi vida.”

The smell of the smoke is starting to sting your nostrils, but all worries of second-hand smoke fade when you pull his boxers down his thighs and reveal his half hard cock. “I'm not the only eager one," you raise a brow at him, taking his hardening length in your hand to hear a soft groan from him.

“Oh c'mon, what guy doesn't love gettin’ his dick sucked? Especially from a slut as pretty as you, cariño.” His thumb runs over your cheek, and then your bottom lip. “Now, open up for me, okay?”

His hand replaces yours as you obediently open your mouth and lean forward, wanting to feel him grow hard in the heat of your mouth. His length is heavy on your tongue, the familiar tang of his skin and pre-cum making you hum softly to send vibrations through his cock, resulting in a pleasured grunt from the man.

“Mmm that's good… good angel…”

The calmness in his voice and the way his shoulders drop indicate that even his trusty old cigarettes can't relax him like you can. You always know exactly what makes him tick, what buttons to press to get him coming down your throat in minutes, but despite that, he continues to take drags from his damn deathstick.

Your eyes are fixated on his lips as he brings it to his mouth again, holding it loosely between his two fingers before inhaling the nicotine. He meets your gaze, a shallow thrust from his impatient hips making you pull back with an annoyed squeal; you're not willing to admit how turned on you also get when they're impatient with you, though you're like 90% sure that Jake has caught on anyway, as usual. A string of drool falls from your lips and lands on his head, spreading down the thick, tanned length before your lips follow.

“Thaaat’s it, just like that, darlin’.” He groans, feeling your lips stretch and the warmth of your mouth envelop him. His fingers caress your hair before his large hand eventually comes to rest on the back of your head; an exciting threat that he could push you down on his girth at any point.

Of course, though, he doesn't. He's more patient and collected than the other two, even when you manage to relax your throat and sink all the way down on him.

“Oooh cariño, that's new. Ya been practicin’?” Jake's back arches off of the window, his cigarette back between his lips so his hand can join the other on the back of your head. You pull off with a pant, nodding proudly, “Steven loved letting me practice on him, did you know he's into throat training?”

Your words warrant a growl from your boyfriend as he tightens his grip on your scalp. “C’mooon, stop teasin’ me,” his lip is cocked up in a scowl as he take another drag from his cig and blows it out.

You don't spend any more time fucking around, your own thighs pressing together just from the situation and sight in front of you. You lower your head on him, but don't take him fully, wrapping your hand around what you can't fit in your mouth so you can start bobbing your head. Your tongue glides over his slit each time you almost pull off, with just your lips wrapped around the blunt tip before you dive back down.

“Fuuuck, that's so good. Shit you're so good at that, mi vida.” His praises go straight to your core, making you speed up your actions.

The man tilts his head back and takes the cig out of his mouth, the end now getting dangerously close to his fingers, but he couldn't care less, all he cares about is the wet heat of your mouth already pushing him closer and closer to his orgasm. He takes one last drag and puts out the butt as it reaches his fingers, taking in a sharp inhale when you deepthroat him again just as it burns his finger tips. “Such a good fucktoy, goddamn angel…”

His groans get louder, your head now bobbing up and down on him rhythmically as you twist your fist around his throbbing length in just the right way.

Hand joining the other, he pushes you down once, then twice. “Just a little more darlin’, ya can do it, I know ya can—,” his pants are heavy, low moans cut off by gasps. “Gonna come down that pretty throat, just a little further, sweetheart.” You feel his hips lift off the window sill and towards your face, the gesture making you choke a bit before you take him fully again, fingernails digging into his plump thighs enough to leave marks as your face scrunches up.

It's only a few more seconds and he's coming down your throat, just as he said he would. You can barely taste the saltiness as he moans loudly, adam's apple bobbing in his throat with his back arched enough to feel his tummy on your forehead. You pull off after a few moments with gasps, your chest rising and falling quickly as you take in the air you'd briefly missed out on.

“Ay cariño… ‘m sorry, are ya ok?” Jake's gaze is still lidded and dopey, though a lot softer now, and you feel his thumb run over your cheek.

“Yes,” you say hoarsely, giggling afterwards at the sound of your voice while you wipe the spit from your chin. “It was hot. I liked it, honey, don't worry.”

He sighs, a smile replacing the worried frown his had on his face just seconds before. “Ah, good, angel,” he leans down and kisses you, not caring about the taste of himself on your lips. “You owe me an orgasm though.” You mumble on his lips, feeling the low chuckle rumble in his chest as he joins you on the floor without even pulling away from your plump lips.

”I can do that, cariño.”

+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡+｡+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡

Jake hasn't been out since that morning, and now it's getting to 3 days, and you're worried.

Did your odd little kink freak him out? Maybe the thought that his lover gets off on him damaging his lungs made him uncomfortable.— No, that's not the sexy part, because that WOULD be weird. It's watching him carefully, masterfully, assemble the tobacco. Watching the way he rolls it between his thick digits and runs his tongue over the edge before lighting it. You'd noticed how his eyes close in satisfaction with that first drag, and how his eyelids lower to a more relaxed manner, giving him that deadly lidded gaze that is sure to be the death of you.

The presence creeping up behind you breaks your train of thought, and you sigh contentedly as you feel large, warm hands run over your shoulders tenderly. You drag your eyes away from the tv screen to tilt your head back and look at one of your boyfriends, whichever one it is.

Jake always insisted on growing his facial hair out, but Marc and Steven are so strongly against it that you'd think they have some kind of personal vendetta against it. That being said, it's hard to tell them apart sometimes, especially when you're looking at them upside down.

“Hello, handsome.”

“Hello, angel.”

Blood instantly rushes to your face, and you know Jake notices it, given the way his lips quirk into a grin.

“Took you long enough…” You mumble softly, lifting your head to avoid his burning gaze.

“Ay, I know I know. I ain't really got an excuse.” He gives your shoulder one last pat before moving around to the couch and placing himself down next to you, arm promptly resting on the couch behind your head. “Did ya miss me, though?” His fingers toy with your ear, a gesture that he'd quickly and delightedly learnt annoys you.

Your silence is met by a dark chuckle from the man. “Did ya miss these?” The sound of cardboard rustling grabs your attention, your head slowly turning towards him before your eyes focus on the box of cigarettes in front of you.

“I thought you didn't like ‘pre-rolled bullshit'.” You quote his words with a scoff to hide the excitement already bubbling up inside you.

“I don't, but they come in handy, don't they? ‘Specially if I'm tryna rile ya up again.”

His left leg is crossed over the other in a casual sitting position, body angled towards you invitingly with his arms spread wide enough to make his t-shirt stretch across his toned chest.

“So… you didn't find it weird then?” Voice tentative, you shuffle over to him, having missed his tight bear hugs and calming tone of voice… even if his cockiness does get on your nerves sometimes.

A small frown replaces the grin that almost constantly adorned his face. “No, mi vida, ‘course not.” His hand reaches towards your face, calloused thumb running under your eyes softly. “I'm just as into it as you are, hell, I thought that was obvious.” His low chuckle makes your chest warm and a smile break the pouty look you had plastered across your face, especially when he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Thank fucking god.”

A deep laugh from your boyfriend only makes your face and body grow warmer, the smile widening before you lean into his lips to place a kiss on them.

“Ya could've spoken to the other two.” He says, hands resting on your waist to pull you closer for a cuddle.

“Didn't wanna worry them.” It's almost remarkable how quickly you melt into their arms, quicker than you have with any other person… ever, really.

Jake's fingers trace your face gently, eyes roaming all over your features and drinking them in as if he hasn't seen you in years. “Ay cariño, you're too kind for ya own good.” He chuckles softly, pressing another, slightly longer kiss on your lips.

That slightly longer turns into much longer, which then turns into you panting into eachothers's mouth, craving one another as if it's integral to your survival.

“Please do it again, honey, wanna see you do it again.”

The friction from your bodies grinding relentlessly together has him dazed, his brain taking a few seconds to compute.

“Oh, angel, so impatient,” he teases as he grabs the box of cigs from the table and pulls one out. He runs it under his nose and takes a big whiff, letting out a loud, pleasured groan afterwards to make you giggle at his silliness, which you do.

You bite your lip, and he puts the stick between his rosy lips, looking up at you hungrily. “This what ya wanted, darlin’? ‘S this what you've been waitin’ for?” His tone is almost condescending, but his words roll off of his tongue in such a smooth way that you're quick to forgive him.

Your hips automatically grind down on him as you nod, biting your lip hard, before you feel his hands land on your waist again, traveling underneath your shirt and over your warm skin until you feel his fingers just brush over your left nipple. The hem of your shirt moves past your face before you can even think about it, your eyes still glued to his pretty mouth as you roll your hips on him to pull those soft grunts from his throat.

“Look at ya, I've barely touched ya and you're all worked up.” He grins as he brings his hand down to the waistband of your sweats to slide them lovingly down your thighs. It's a little mortifying how you don't even question him, how you don't even need anymore working up thanks to a heated make-out session and the sight of the cig hanging from his lips loosely. You lift your ass to help him pull them down, your underwear following suit.

That's when you realize he hasn't even taken his grey t-shirt off, and you're stark naked in his lap.

“This has got to have a name...” You rest your hands on his chest, the feeling of your bare cunt grinding against his jeans making you tilt your head back.

“Hmm?” He asks, undoing his belt buckle and fly.

“Your thing for having me completely naked while you can't even be bothered to take your shirt off.”

He laughs at that. “Maybe, ya should look it up later. See if it's on that woman's TikTok page.” He pulls his twitching cock out of the confines of his boxers, running his thumb over the ruddy tip. The gesture makes you take in a soft inhale, inching your hips closer to him so you can let his cock slide between your folds and through your arousal.

You both groan at the movement, and you watch Jake shuffle in his pocket for his lighter moments later, bringing the small flame to the end of the cig to light it. His chest expands, and then deflates as he blows the smoke away.

“You're so gorgeous, mi vida.” He says softly, two fingers holding the cigarette tightly as he runs them across your flesh to make goosebumps prickle across your arms and your cheeks heat up.

“And you're so handsome, Jakey.” You moan softly as he brings his mouth close to your chest and places kisses all over the expanse of skin, guiding your hand down between your bodies to help him slide inside you.

He pulls away and places the stick between his lips again to take in another drag and admire the picture in front of him. “Such a pretty angel,” he reiterates, feeling your warmth envelop his aching length as you sink down on him.

Your thighs shudder just a little, a pant escaping your lips as your hole stretches around him with ease, used to their girth by now.

“Love the dumb little look on ya face when ya take it, cariño. Ya like havin’ me stretch ya open like this?” Jake's words travel straight to your core, fueling the fire in your tummy as you lift your hips just to sink back down on him.

“Yes, baby, I love the way you stretch me open.”

The moan that comes from his lips is wonderful, and it's followed by another billow of smoke, the cig back in the corner of his mouth so he can guide your hips. You can see him already gritting his teeth around it, taking in sharp inhales as you start a deep rhythm on him.

“Oh baby…” You moan. You desperately want to close your eyes to enjoy the feeling, but the sight of him fucking you with that deathstick between his teeth is too glorious, penance for the time you spent worrying. “Shit, you look so hot, Jake. So fucking sexy…” You groan as he grasps your ass, gripping the flesh and dragging you down on his cock with growls.

“Ya look even better takin’ it, darlin’, ya take it so well; my pretty slut.”

You grip his shoulders, cursing him for being able to push your buttons and make you whine at the most humiliating of names. Your body always tells him different, though, especially as you start bouncing faster on his cock, feeling it hit that fucking sweet spot each time you come down on him.

Jake is panting too now, and he has to hold the cig between his fingers again to stop it from dropping on you. “Ya feel so good squeezin’ me like that, cariño… Fuck this cunt is magical–.” He still has a grip on your hip, and uses it as leverage so that he can start bucking his hips into your wet heat.

Needless to say, you aren't going to last much longer.

“J-ake! Honey… Fuck I'm so close–agh!-.” Your walls clench around him while your hand slips between your legs to circle your clit, eyes opening briefly to get a glimpse at the sight you'd been waiting to see for what felt like weeks.

That's it, that's all you needed as you sink down on him and grind your cunt against your hand, panting and moaning with your head thrown back. Waves of pleasure rush over you and soak through your bones entirely, your toes clenching like your walls.

You release the grip you had on his shoulders, not that he seemed to mind, that is, before leaning forward to kiss him. You don't care about the smokey taste on his tongue because all you want is him, his taste.

“Mmnnn… We ain't done yet, darlin’,” Jake pulls from the kiss and gestures to the half burnt cigarette as he places it back between his lips.

He gropes your waist and pulls you off of his cock with a soft yelp from you, instead pressing you down into the couch, face turned outwards so he can lean down and look at your face. This position always makes you whine, always makes your legs shake as you try to keep yourself up, and Jake never goes easy on you. He likes seeing the way your ass and thighs bounce as he brings you back on him, and loves hearing the filthy noises that are produced in the process.

The feeling of him splitting you open again has you biting on the cushion, your thoughts from before being true as he ruthlessly fucks into you, loud growls and grunts rumbling in his chest and ringing in your ears.

It's hard to ignore how good it makes you feel when he uses you like this. Sure you love the soft and tender moments you get with the three of them, but once you'd felt what they can really do to you, there was no going back.

You're surprised you haven't ripped the cushion cover from how hard you're gripping it, dumb, cock drunk whines and whimpers falling from your lips as the man fucks you closer and closer to another orgasm.

He leans over you, cigarette barely staying between his lips as he watches your eyes screw shut and random gibberish fall from your mouth.

“Ay, my pretty little fucktoy. Ya love it when I'm rough with ya, don't ya?” He pants and strokes his hand down your chest, running all the way down your tummy till he reaches your swollen clit. “Love it when I… when I use ya.”

His strong and composed facade is faltering, just as it usually does when he's getting close, sitting up again to throw his head back and take puffs of his almost completely gone cigarette.

You can see colours dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly they're screwed shut, the way his fingers are rubbing your clit being almost unbearable as you let out cries and pleas to come again.

“Yeah cariño, that's it, cum all over my cock, lemme feel ya twitch.”

An even stronger wave than before crashes over you and wracks your whole body. Your moans get stuck in your throat as you milk Jake of all he has, his own orgasm having hit him after you'd shrieked his name.

Thankfully, he's quick to remove his fingers from your throbbing clit, knowing it gets a little too sensitive after two mind-blowing orgasms.

”AH FUCK-”

Your post-nut bliss is interrupted by a pained yelp from the man, making you crane your neck to look back at him frantically pulling the cigarette butt from his lips and putting it out in the ashtray.

You laugh, albeit sleepily, and watch his dopey gaze drift to yours as he chuckles lowly. “Fuckin’ cigarettes… maybe next time I should get some of those fake ones.” He jokes as he pulls out of you and touches his sore lips.

You giggle and sit up wobbly, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. “I did think when we started that it was a little dangerous.”

“Ay, ya live and ya learn.”

You both laugh and Jake presses his face into your neck, placing soft kisses as he falls back against the couch with a thump, taking you with him.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse

#moon knight #moon knight system #moon boys #jake lockley #moon knight smut #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac characters

[borathae]

"All it takes is one evening of getting Yoongi drunk to find out just how needy this man can actually get. Alternatively: Yoongi is drunk and that means his restraints are gone. So he decides to ride you, because that's all he really wants to do."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, Dom!Reader, he is cute & a lil bratty & also a total painslut, then his instincts kick in and he becomes so fucking needy, like SO NEEDY, she is so gentle but also slaps his face like twice, she calls him a good boy & a slut, consensual drunk sex, needy pegging in cowboy & lotus position, lotsa making out, butt spanking, cock slapping, anal fingering, handjob, blowjob, edging (m.receiving), multiple orgasms (m.& f.receiving), prostate milking, so much cum, so much drool, he squirts, belly bulging :’), vaginal fingering, he has his fangs out, biting, a very vocal Yoongi, i just need him to know that he is cute, loving aftercare

Wordcount: 10.8k

a/n: this is Sanguis!Yoongi when he is drunk and trusts her completely. It's so cute and hot and I just want him to be happy. hahah help me. I love them so much, I'm gonna rip off my own face skin and cry about them

“I wanna be fucked”, Yoongi whines against your neck, pressing your hand to his clothed crotch. He begins rubbing himself against it, lips parting in a needy moan.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna be fucked, please”, he is lulling his words, tugging you closer as he tries to get your hand inside his pants. 

“And you decided that in the middle of the hallway?” you laugh, feeling your stomach tingle in excitement. He is so needy. It’s so hot when he is.

“Yeah”, he whines, “come please. Come”, he orders in a huff of air and tugs you with him as he stumbles to your wing. 

“Okay, okay I'm already coming. Holy moly, you really didn’t do well with that wine, did you?”

“No”, Yoongi giggles the word. Yeah. He giggles. He giggles as he shakes his head and lifts his shoulders to his ears, adding two little skips into his steps on top of that.

“Okay, wait. Love, slow-“

The door falls closed.

Your back hits it. 

Yoongi cages you in and grabs your face to kiss you. 

Deep.

Passionate.

Needy.

And sloppy. 

He tastes like desire and wine. He sounds desperate. Feels like fucking heaven. His knee is between your legs, punching up the fabric of your floor length dress and grinding right against your pussy. The thin fabric of your panties does little to mask how amazing his thigh feels. 

“Fuck Yoongi”, you rasp, tilting your head back. The kiss breaks but he litters your neck with wet kisses instantly. 

“Fuck me”, Yoongi answers you in a keen, dragging his tongue up your pulse point until he ends it with a flick right under your ear, “wanna be fucked, please”, he begs in a whisper, letting his voice tickle your ear.

You went out tonight. Like every year, the university hosted its late autumn masquerade ball and like always, you wanted to go. As did Taehyung and the boys of former Sanguis and, well, Yoongi wanted to go too once he saw how excited you were. He went with a suit and black mask like every year, while you went with the prettiest dress inspired by the Regency period and an intricately done venetian mask. Taehyung made it for you. Your masks have long been discarded by the front door. As has Yoongi’s long coat somewhere on the endless hallways of the estate. 

You had so much fun at the ball. There was zero drama and even less danger. Just dancing, laughter and way too much booze. One should also mention that you did a lot of making out and that Hoseok ended up winning the costume contest with his realistic Mothman costume (it looked hotter than it sounds, promise). Back to the booze however. You drank a lot, all of you, to the point where you had to call a cab back to the estate because none of you were able to drive. Yes, even Yoongi. The Creator who normally never gets drunk because he'll heal before that could happen. Not tonight however, no amount of healing will get this man sober again. And you love it because drunk Yoongi means clingy Yoongi and that’s one of your favourites. 

Most of you arrived home safely except for Hoseok who refused to come as he met a woman at the ball and he wanted to spend the night with her. The others were all busy too. At Seokjin's place. No further details needed. 

Which left you and Yoongi stumbling to your wing and Yoongi acting the horniest you have ever witnessed him act. 

You witnessed Yoongi drunk one time before tonight. It was back when you were still on the road and you came back from a dance. That night will always stay in your memories. It truly will.  

Yoongi swoops you off your feet, making you squeak because you didn’t expect it.

He grunts, swaying from side to side dangerously. 

“Don’t drop me, I’m serious”, you warn in a laugh. 

“I’ve got you”, he lulls, stumbling down the hallways, “kiss me, wanna be kissed please.”

“Mhm my prince”, you sigh, kissing him gladly. 

It was strange at first to return to university after everything you went through. People looked at you weird, but you tried to ignore them. The masquerade ball is too much fun to miss out on. Especially this year when the world was finally safe. Even Yoongi let loose, asking you for one dance in the ballroom while the others got drunk in the disco. It was very nice, but also the moment you realised just how wasted Yoongi was as he whined about how pretty you were in front of other people and he never does that. 

Thump. 

“Ah Yoongs”, you gasp. 

“Sorry.”

Yoongi just hit the door with your back, now fumbling with the doorknob to open it. 

“You said you’ll be careful”, you whine. 

“Sorry”, he tries to kiss you, “don’t be mad. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I guess”, you giggle, “what are you doing?” 

“Tryna open the door. Is it stuck or something, the fuck?” he tries to wiggle the doorknob. 

“You gotta push.”

Yoongi does it with little pressure. The door opens instantly. 

“Oh”, he lets out, sneaky a shy glance at you, “I knew that.”

“Mhm sure”, you say and chuckle, “kiss me, you idiot.”

“You's mean”, he mumbles and leans in to kiss you. He stumbles to your bed, dropping you on top of it and without ever breaking the kiss, he climbs atop your lap. He plops down, moving his hips back and forth in a needy grind while his hands are cradling your face. Your legs are tangling over the edge, as are his feet. 

“I'm mean?” you ask him in a chuckle.

“Yeah. You messing with my heart. It keeps racing”, he says, guiding your hand to his chest, “feel it.”

“Yoongs, your heart stopped beating three thousand years ago.”

“Oh yeah”, he flutters his lashes, “doesn’t matter. Being with you's making me feel flutters in it”, he says, tapping his chest with your hand, “right there. Tingles so much.”

You twist his shirt and pull him close. Yoongi falls with a surprised gasp, gasping again when you kiss him deeply. He grows limp atop of you, except for his hips. They begin wiggling like crazy. And his feet. He begins kicking them happily. 

He cups your face, breaking the kiss solely for the purpose of littering your face in big smooches. 

“Loveyou, you's the best, loveyousomuch”, he slurs his words but they are clear to you. 

“You are so drunk”, you giggle in a squeak.

“Ye, drunk on you”, he retorts, wiggling cutely, “is what you said to me. Remember?”

“Ye. I do.”

Yoongi kisses up and down your nose, moving on to your left cheek. He makes loud kissing noises, mixing in the occasional "mwuah" or a lulled confession of his eternal love. 

Truly, drunk Yoongi is the most precious treasure on earth. Freed of his restraints and anxiety, he finally becomes who he wants to be deep down. This is him. This is the real Yoongi. And you can’t get enough of him.

Yoongi ends his love attack by sucking in your cheek and biting it gently. 

“Ah Yoongi”, you gasp, moving away. 

He releases you with a bop, gawking at you with puckered lips. 

“What?”

“You bit me.”

“I did not.”

You snicker, reaching up it squish his cheeks.

“You're so cute.”

He huffs out air, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips, using his tongue for it until you moan and kiss him back with just as much passion. 

Yoongi is the best kisser on earth. No. In the universe. Gentle but so passionate. Sweet but so rough. Loving and oh so skilled. Kissing him is paradise. Kissing him while you are both stupidly drunk? The best experience ever. You don’t ever want to stop. He makes you so happy. He feels so right. He is so perfect. 

Overwhelmed by your feelings you break the kiss to litter his face with kisses.

“My cutie. My Yoongi Boongie. My handsome prince”, you mumble, kissing every inch of his perfect face.

Yoongi lets it happen with squeezed shut eyes and his prettiest gummy smile. He kicks his feet the whole time, wiggling his hips because nothing in the world could contain the happiness he currently feels.

You end your love attack by kissing his lips, falling back into the most passionate kiss ever. You are smiling so much, holding each other, feeling so high on one another. 

His fingers begin fumbling with your dress. Clumsily and without any sort of plan in mind. Their only goal is to get you out of that dress. 

“Shit. Goddamn it”, Yoongi breaks the kiss to curse under his breath.

“What's wrong?”

“Your dress's not opening. Why's it not opening?”

“Maybe ‘cause you're tugging on the collar instead of the lacing?” 

“Oh”, his fingers slip, “I knew that. Just wanted to test you”, he mumbles, changing his grip to finally open your dress. 

“Yeah, sure you did”, you say in a chuckle.

You sit up to help him, giggling when Yoongi gets off your lap to fall to his knees before you. He tugs the dress down your legs, caressing your ankles as he helps you step out of the big heap of fabric. He discards it on the floor and moves on to taking off your shoes. 

Once they are discarded as well, he lowers himself to place a worshipping kiss upon your left instep. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes mesmerised by him. You are towering over him atop your big bed while he lays worshiping by your feet. You feel hot all over because of it. 

Yoongi kisses your right instep as well, ending it with a little hiccup.

“Scuse me”, he lifts his head, “I'm so drunk. You have really pretty feet.”

“Well thank you, my prince”, you say and giggle, lifting your foot to dance it up and down the buttons of his dress shirt. Yoongi arches into the touch, presenting his palms on his lap as if he was made to do so. 

He is fully dressed while you are barely clothed. Only a matching set of satin lingerie is keeping you modest. Yoongi can’t seem to take his eyes off of it, breathing heavily while his thighs squeeze together desperately. 

“Can I see you tonight?” you ask him, trying to open his bow tie with your toes. You are failing miserably.

Yoongi replaces your toes with his fingers, opening the tie and letting it drop on the ground. He begins opening his dress shirt afterwards, submissive eyes glued to your face. This is his answer. He feels really sexy tonight. He knows that it is because of the booze. The knowledge doesn’t stop him, on the contrary, it encourages him. If he ends up doing something embarrassing, he can just blame it on being too drunk and then you won’t be able to judge him. He feels so confident tonight. Confident and like the hottest person ever born. 

He drops his shirt on the floor, gasping softly when you stop his fingers from opening his belt by stepping on his hand. 

“Stand up”, you order.

Yoongi obeys, getting to his feet before you. You tug him closer by his belt. Yoongi stumbles with wobbly knees, feeling his stomach tingle. He loves it so much when you are rough with him. He stumbles, catching himself on your shoulder. 

“Careful”, you giggle, hugging his middle with your cheeks squished against his soft tummy. 

“Sorry, is really hard to stand”, he lulls, hugging you back.

“I know, I’ll be fast”, you say, placing a loving kiss on his tummy before lifting your head. You smile at him, eyes spilling over with love. You are still hugging his waist, “you're so handsome, my love.”

“Thanks”, Yoongi mumbles, swaying his shoulders from side to side. Your sweet words only strengthen tonight's feelings. He is so, so sexy and handsome. Yoongi loves feeling that way. It makes his tummy all tingly and his brain all fuzzy. 

You turn your head and bite him. 

“Ah”, he gasps, cupping your head. 

It was a gentle bite. Nothing more than a nibble of love. But it was on his tummy. And his tummy is terribly sensitive. Yoongi rubs his thighs together, swaying like crazy.

“Don't do that”, he whines. 

You release his skin, “why?” you ask, gazing up at him with sparkly eyes.

“Feels so much”, he whispers, scratching the spot you bit. 

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Ye.”

You scrunch your nose up, giving him a blinding smile. One last kiss to his tummy and you sadly release him, moving on to getting his pants down. He slips out of his shoes as you work, wanting to waste as little time as possible.

The belt buckle hits his thigh as you let it fall open. It doesn't hurt, merely making a metallic clinking sound. 

Yoongi is holding his breath, looking down at you with his lower lip between his teeth. You are opening his pants. One button at a time until it is finally done. You run your hands to his butt, slipping them inside the pants and tugging them down but not before squeezing his round buttocks. 

He gasps because of it, feeling dizzy. The pants fall down, pooling by his feet. You touch his hips, tugging him closer. Yoongi steps out of his clothes, finally he is freed of them. He would feel really self conscious on other days, but tonight he feels good. He is so handsome when he is naked. That’s how he feels. 

Your eyes are glued to his clothed cock. It is already straining the fabric of his black briefs. 

“All mine”, you whisper, making his knees buckle. 

“___”, he moans your name, climbing onto your lap messily. He grinds against your thighs instantly, kissing you with a needy mewl.

You chuckle because the kiss surprised you, breaking it just so you can grin at him. 

“I'm yours”, he lulls, “is true. All yours”, he says, fighting you gently just so he can kiss you again.

“You're so freaking cute”, you say, “goddamn it Yoongi, I love you like crazy.”

“Love you too”, he mumbles, hiding his giddiness by pushing you into the sheets and burying his face in your neck. He begins kissing your skin instantly, nibbling and sucking on it until you feel lightheaded. The thing with Yoongi is that he loves biting. Obviously because he is a vampire. He loves biting, but he doesn’t want to go too far, which results in those really tingly and gentle bites all over your body. And they drive you insane. Truly insane.

Yoongi whines, lifting his head. He is pouting at you.

“Why? What’s wrong now?” you whine and chuckle.

“I wanna suck your tits. Why do you have a bra on?”

“Tzt, crybaby”, you arch your back off the mattress, “open it.”

Yoongi follows gladly, opening the clasp in the back and pulling the straps off your arms. He throws the piece of clothing over his back.

“That's really expensive, just saying”, you snicker.

“Is fine”, he dismisses you and gathers your breasts just to bury his face in them. 

“Mhhm Yoongi”, you sigh, closing your eyes in delight. His lips are so soft, his tongue so eager. He is nibbling again, biting and sucking every inch of your chest without ever going too far. It feels so good. His fingers caress your skin as he kisses you. He adds just a little bit of strength every now and then, sending electric sparks through your veins each time he does. 

Yoongi giggles, kicking his feet happily. He is so, so happy. You are so perfect and the fact that he can kiss you feels so, so good. 

He lifts his head only to rest his cheek on your breasts, sparkly eyes gazing up at you. 

“You're so pretty”, he whispers, sparkles in his eyes growing, “and soft and warm and perfect. You's so perfect.”

You smile, running the back of your hand over his cheek, “you're so cute.”

Yoongi looks away, wiggles and then attacks you with the tightest hug in human history. You squeak, allowing him to shake you around as he does everything in his power to squeeze you against him. 

Somehow in the sweet mess of it all, he managed to change positions so you were fully resting on the bed now, heads supported by pillows and toes facing the foot end. 

Yoongi breaks the hug, but stays close enough that he can kiss your neck. He is humping the side of your leg, panting against your skin. 

One arm is still under your head while the other is draped over your tummy. Not for long however, just as Yoongi begins mewling softly and his cock is oh so hard against your leg, his hand begins traveling down your body, soon disappearing inside your panties. 

You open your legs happily, sighing his name when his fingers begin feeling up your pussy. 

“So wet”, he whispers, drawing circles on your soaked entrance.

“It's your fault”, you answer him in a sigh. 

Yoongi snorts and giggles, rubbing against you in a giddy squirm.

“You always say so much”, he whines, “so mean.”

“I'm not mean I'm-oh”, you struggle with your words because Yoongi just buried two of his fingers inside of you and is now moving them in and out carefully, “I-I'm telling the…truth.”

Oh, he's got you so sensitive already. Being with Yoongi does that to you. You like him so, so much and being with him makes you so eager for his touches that whenever he finally gives them to you, you can barely even handle them. It feels so nice to be touched by Yoongi. Especially when he is as perfect and cute and amazing as he is tonight. 

You slip your hand into his briefs, palming his cock.

“Wait”, he gasps, tensing up.

“What's wrong? Don’t want it?”

“No, is just that. Wanna be naked.” 

He abandons you for just a second as he wiggles out of his briefs. You do the same, watching him with the biggest heart eyes ever. Whatever was in the wine tonight made him brave. You are so giddy. Normally it takes Yoongi at least an hour of sex to feel safe enough to undress and now he is doing it willingly during foreplay. He is so perfect when he is like that. 

Yoongi drops into the sheets and shimmies back to you. You roll to your side, kissing his lips with sighs of his name. Yoongi purrs, kissing you back with a dizzy head. It happens naturally that his hand slips back between your legs. You lift your leg, draping it over his hips to give him better access. Yoongi buries his fingers back in your pussy, forcing a shudder to run through you. 

“Feels so good”, you whisper.

“Good, you’re so pretty”, he whispers.

“Yoongi.”

“What's it?”

“Yoongi, you feel so good”, you sigh, gazing into his eyes. 

He seems mesmerised by you, eyes racing between yours. 

“I'm so drunk”, he whispers. 

“Me too”, you snicker.

“You're not real. I'm so drunk, you can’t be real”, he lulls.

“Does that feel real?” you ask him, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You give him slow strokes up and down as best as possible in the position, putting more pressure each time you reach his tip. 

“Y-yeah”, Yoongi croaks, squeezing his eyes shut, "oh god", he huffs out and whimpers softly.

“It's real, Yoongs”, you promise him.

“You's real”, he sighs, throbbing in your hand, “I'm so lucky”, he adds in a barely there whisper. 

“I'm lucky too”, you breathe, closing your eyes as you fall into the sensation. 

Soft moans, gasps for air, sounds of eager touches. The room fills with the melodies of your pleasure, mixing with the ruffling of sheets and the sounds of kissing each time one of you steals a kiss or two. You both know you won’t be able to orgasm soon. You are too drunk for that. But you don’t mind because it’s so goddamn amazing to be close and to touch each other and to feel those nice tingles of a loving hand for as long as you want to. You don’t want to climax because being with each other like that, all dizzy and droopy and bursting with happiness, is the best reward ever. 

Yoongi stubs you with his nose, calling your attention. Your eyes meet. He looks so droopy. His face is glowing now that you are sharing so much heat with each other. 

“Finger me”, he lulls. 

Your hand around his cock falters.

“I'm sorry?” you gasp. 

“Want your fingers up my butt. Please”, he begs, wiggling his hips. 

“Hot. What the hell? Hot?”

“Please?”

“Uh heck yeah? This is the hottest thing you ever said. Let me just get the lube.”

You hate that you have to end the amazing thing you currently had going on, but this is more important. Yoongi never asks for things. At least not for himself. He'll take what you give him, but he will never ask for more. Even while you are doing something he won’t ask for another spot to be touched and you are left figuring it out yourself by accidentally touching his favourite spots and making his body shake involuntarily. So to have him ask you to do something to him, especially butt stuff, makes you want to squeal. This is the best night ever. 

Yoongi is on his back once you return, welcoming you back by grabbing your waist and scrunching his nose up.

“I can't believe you're letting me do that to you.”

“Want it so bad”, Yoongi says and opens his legs, “is that good? Want another position?”

“No. No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect”, you say, having to kiss him because otherwise you would have exploded in emotion. He is the best person ever. 

Yoongi kisses you back, mewling quietly. 

“You're so perfect. My perfect man”, you mumble, feeling him up desperately. 

Yoongi barely handles the touches, writhing under you with flutters in his tummy. His skin is so sensitive. Your palm is so soft and warm. He can’t handle how good you make him feel. 

The kiss breaks once you reach his inner thighs, Yoongi has more important things to do. Like gasp your name and part his pouty lips. His skin feels electric wherever you touch it.

“The prettiest. You’re so pretty”, you praise, “and soft. Why are you so soft?” 

“I'm soft”, he repeats, wiggling his toes. 

“Yeah you are. Wanna keep squeezing you”, you say, squishing his inner thigh right next to his cock. 

Yoongi keens, parting his legs more. It tickles, but also feels intense. His cock begins aching because of it, yearning for a touch. 

You don’t give it to him, which he dislikes at first until he can feel your touch on his balls. You massage them gently, forcing the warmest sparks to course through his tummy. 

“Except for there. You’re so hard”, you say, squeezing them until it hurts. 

Yoongi gasps, opening his legs further. His balls feel like bursting. 

Slap. 

“Mo-oh my god”, he chokes out and arches his back.

“That was a reward for being so cute”, you tell him.

“Want it again”, he begs, touching your tummy with shaky fingers. He scratches your skin softly, “please.”

And because he is so adorable right now, you can’t deny him. You slap his balls a second time, ending it with a harsh squeeze. 

Yoongi moans in gratefulness, letting his eyes fall closed by rolling them back first. 

“You're so sexy like this. Fuck, Yoongi”, you rasp, spanking him one last time before moving on to a new spot. You know better than to keep going. Yoongi can - and did - cum from cock torture and you don’t want this to happen. Yet. 

Yoongi wants to complain at first, but doesn’t when he feels your fingers brush against his hole. Just once and nothing more than a feather light touch. He is so sensitive that it felt a million times more intense however. He chases you, tilting his hips to make it easier for you. He drops them again the second you touch him, veins filling with tingles.

You put more pressure than last time, drawing circles. 

“Feels so good”, he sighs, seeking you by rolling his head to the side. Like this he can almost bury his face in your tits. 

“And I haven’t even started yet”, you whisper, sending shivers down his spine. You sound so confident. Yoongi feels dizzy. You are so hot like this. 

Your touch retreats for a moment. A click lets Yoongi know that you are covering your fingers in lube. Another click as you close the bottle then you touch his rim. 

“Ah”, he gasps, twitching in surprise. 

“Sorry, was that too cold?”

“No, is good”, he says, shivering when you begin moving, “is so good. You so good.”

“You're so sensitive”, you put the slightest sound of teasing into your voice, making Yoongi huff out air. 

He flusters way too easily. He can’t bear to be teased. Especially not tonight when his senses are so heightened because of the booze. Of course he is sensitive. He danced with you and kissed you and you called him handsome so many times. He had to get sensitive. It was unavoidable. 

“Now take a deep breath for me”, you whisper.

Yoongi obeys, releasing it a second later despite his efforts. He can’t help it, your finger is in his ass and that feels so good.

“Slipped right in. Wow my Boongie, you’re so greedy, aren’t you?”

He nods his head vigorously.

“Love your finger. Is so good.”

“Of course you do”, you whisper, moving it in and out of him slowly. To get him used to it. To feel him up. To enjoy his tight warmth for as long as possible. 

“Don't stop”, he whispers, adding a breathy “please” as he widens his eyes at you. His pouty lips are parted and his sparkly eyes widened. He looks so cute right now. 

“Oh my Boongie, you’re so cute”, you giggle, scrunching your nose up before leaning down and rubbing the tip of your nose against his’. His eyes flutter closed, a sigh slips past his lips, “my dearest love”, you whisper, curling your finger in search for his favourite spot. 

“Good, is good it’s- ah, a-ah”, Yoongi gets out, voice pitched in surprised pleasure.

“There? Right there?” you ask, massaging the spot inside of him.

Yoongi opens his legs, thighs twitching involuntarily. He purrs deeply, scrunching his nose up as he nods his head. 

“Yeah, right there”, you rasp, drinking in his expression, “you're taking me so well, my prince.”

It is fascinating just how tight and warm he feels around you. Truly, Yoongi’s warmth is so addicting and quite frankly, adorable as well. You realised that whenever he is close to you and he feels especially happy, he becomes warmer than on normal days. As if your presence in itself gives him enough nutrition for his body to heat up. You love to cuddle him whenever that happens, which results in Yoongi purring happily and becoming even warmer. 

“You're burning up, love”, you whisper, kissing his temple. 

“Feels so good”, Yoongi sighs, “one more, please.”

You slip your ring finger inside, eliciting a raspy purr from him. It vibrates deep in his chest and is filled with his honest bliss.

“Like this?”

He nods his head, cock twitching angrily as you scissor your fingers.

“You're so tight, I’m surprised that you can take me.”

Yoongi peels his eyes open, frowning at you.

“What?” you ask in a chuckle.

“Don't slutshame me.”

“Slutshame you?” You snort, “what are you talking about?”

Yoongi closes his eyes, “shut up.”

“No, no I'm not. Are you telling me that you’re my slut? Mhm Yoongi? Is that it?”

“No it’s not. Stop. Take your fingers out. I don’t want it.”

“No? You don’t? So if I do this, you don’t want it?” you challenge, curling your fingers against his prostate. You begin massaging it, forcing him to gasp and shudder. 

You get to your knees between his legs and wrap your hand around his cock. 

“And if I do this, you don’t want it?” you taunt, jerking him off quickly as you continue fingering his greedy bum. Quick and hard, just like you jerk off his leaking cock. It’s what deserves for pretending that he isn’t into it.

Yoongi squeaks and grips your hand with trembling fingers. He writhes, thighs trying to close in a desperate attempt to flee from the harsh fingering. It’s too much, Yoongi doesn’t know how to handle it. It feels too good.

“Mhm? If I do this, you don’t want it? Mhm?” you challenge with hunger in your eyes. He is shaking so much, it’s so cute. His bum looks so good taking the harsh finger fuck, his cock is all twitchy and leaky. 

“___”, Yoongi gasps and lets out a loud “ah” followed by a whiney moan. He is trying so hard to get your hand to stop, weak fingers barely closing around your wrist.

“So cute. You’re so cute when you're shaking. You’re such a cute, little slut, Yoongi love. Such a cutie”, you coo, forcing his cock to leak all over your fingers.

“Please not so, so fast”, he begs, squeezing your wrist weakly.

“Why?”

“Cum”, he gets out and arches his back with a whiney little sound escaping him. 

He feels fucked. Your fingers are so fast and know exactly where to touch. It’s like you're already fucking him. That, mixed with the dizziness of the booze and Yoongi swears he is going to crumble any second now.

“Please slow”, he begs, gasping for air. 

“Cute”, you rasp and slow down, but only so you could take him into your mouth. Yoongi arches off the mattress, fingers twisting the sheets and cute hole squeezing around your digits. You are fucking them in and out of him slowly and to their fullest, giving Yoongi a taste of how it feels to be stretched out over and over again. He takes you so well, sounding oh so perfect doing it. 

“No please”, he gasps, “___, please”, he whimpers, throbbing in your mouth. 

He tastes so good. Like desperation and pleasure. You love it so much, slurping it up hungrily. His cock fits down your throat so nicely. Yoongi normally hates it when you deep throat him. Not because he dislikes the feeling, on the contrary he loves it, but because he is always scared that he will make you gag and therefore uncomfortable. He doesn’t have to worry about that tonight, because you are drunk. And when you are drunk, your gag reflex ceases to exist. It’s probably the added boost of confidence. You won’t ever complain, it feels so fucking empowering to be able to take his entire cock down your throat without needing to gag. 

Yoongi is appreciating it as well, thighs trembling like crazy and hole pulsating around your fingers.

“You're really un-unfair”, he stutters, punching up the sheets with his toes as he curls them. Nothing else helps. He is getting his ass fingered and his cock throat fucked. He wasn’t ready for what he bargained for when he asked you to finger him. You are too good and way too eager to destroy him. 

You slip off of him, allowing your drool to drip down on him. It runs down his veiny shaft until it soils his dark pubes, marking him as your property. 

“So you don’t want this?” you rasp, playing with your spit, “mhm? You don’t want any of it?”

Yoongi swallows heavily, recovering for a short moment with quick pants for air. 

You pull your fingers out, anticipating his reaction.

“No”, he whines breathily, “no, back. Please back”, he whispers and you hear him.

You do. But you want to tease him. You press your wet fingers against his soft rim, drawing slow circles on it. It’s remarkable how relaxed and loosened up he already feels. 

“Back”, he breathes.

“Mhm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you”, you tease.

Yoongi places his hands on the back of your head, pushing you down shyly. He bucks his hips up, hitting your nose with his cock. It makes you giggle because it was funny to be nudged with his cock.

“Please”, he whispers. 

“You're so fucking cute”, you gush, taking him back into your mouth. He glides over your tongue until your throat hugs him tightly. Only then, do you stuff your fingers back into him, using your wrist to control the movements. Deep and quickened and just enough to force him to twitch inside your mouth over and over again. You moan deliciously and begin bopping your head up and down, going fast because it makes him whine so cutely. 

Yoongi grips the sheets again, hitting his head against the pillow twice before he decides to arch his back instead.

“More fingers please”, he begs, shaking when you purr around his cock. Deeply and deliciously. The stretch of his hole which follows makes him shake again. You listened, now burying your pointer finger in his butt as well. Deep and so thick. Your fingers in that position stretch him out so much.

“___”, Yoongi moans, “___ please. Please.”

Yoongi is awkward. About literally everything, but especially about his sexuality. Now. He never looked for labels or definitions. If a person attracts him sexually then so be it, he never cared about what was between their legs or what that would make him. He does care about how he fucks however, what he receives and how he receives it. Because receiving is hard for him, especially butt stuff. He doesn’t let anyone other than you close to this part of his body. It’s too intimate, makes him too vulnerable and requires a level of trust only you – and maybe Jungkook – achieved. So yes, Yoongi is awkward about butt stuff. Even if he loves it so much. So, so much. But this right here? This right here makes him want to keep begging you and act like a complete slut. This is the endgame. The real deal and he is burning up. 

“Thank you”, he croaks, thighs shaking each time you fuck your fingertips against his prostate. 

You moan around his cock, sending sparks through his veins. He is too sensitive.

“I'm gonna- ah”, he gasps, gripping your hair and twisting it desperately, “you're making me cum”, he croaks, relaxing his muscles in preparation for the warmest most amazing high ever. 

Stop. 

Pain and suffering. 

Agony. 

Yoongi has to sob and writhe.

You stopped. 

Slipped off his cock, removed your fingers. They are gripping his thighs now, forcing him to stay open even if all he wants to do is close his legs and rub them together. 

You laugh. Tauntingly and with enough craze in it to make Yoongi’s skin crawl in hot, dumb pleasure. 

“You didn’t actually think that I'd let you cum did you?” you ask and laugh, “oh Yoongi, you’re so gullible.”

Yoongi whines and wraps his fingers around his cock, trying to jerk it off. Anything please.

Slap! 

You slapped them away instantly.

“Ah”, he gasps, peeling his eyes open just in time to watch you place yourself atop of him. His legs, you force to stay open by keeping his thighs thrown over yours. Like this, your crotch is pressed right against his ass, taunting him because there is no cock inside him but all he wants is for you to stuff him with your strap. 

His grabby, misbehaving hands you pin right above his head, digging your fingers into him in a strong grip. 

“Keep those hands where they belong. Hear me?” you growl. 

Yoongi rarely falls into subspace. Entering that state means giving up control and letting another person see the part of him he is most ashamed of. He thinks there is nothing wrong with wanting to be like that when other people want it, but he thinks it’s embarrassing when he wants to be like that. You however make it easy to fall. And fun. And quite frankly you make him love every fucking second of it. He feels so tiny and weak and that’s all he wants right now. That and your strap.

“Yeah”, he gets out.

“You do? So why did you try to touch yourself, mhm?”

“I'm a slut”, he lulls, going dizzy under your piercing gaze.

“No, that’s not it is it? Tell me the truth.”

Yoongi shakes his head, earning himself an aggressive roll of your hips. He mewls, wishing for another one.

“Tell me Yoongi, tell me.”

“I'm a brat”, he keens, rubbing himself against you by wiggling his hips needily. He needs the friction, needs to feel as if you are already fucking him. Oh god, it doesn’t feel the same. Yoongi wants to cry, why doesn’t it feel the same? He needs to be fucked so bad. 

“Exactly. You’re a brat”, you rasp, abandoning his wrists to scratch down his arms. 

Yoongi keeps them above his head naturally, mewling your name with closed eyes. He opens them a second later when you slap his face and therefore surprise him. They are widened and glassy, looking at you with so much submission burning in them. You slap his other cheek, gripping his face right afterwards. Your fingers dig into his cheeks as you keep him hostage.

“Don't look at me like that. It makes me feel bad that I had to slap you”, you rasp, forcing even more submission into his droopy gaze. “What's wrong?” the question may be of nurturing nature, but Yoongi knows your true intentions behind it. This is to mock him, to force him to voice his wishes even if it embarrasses him so, so much. He wants to kiss the ground you walk on. You are so mean and perfect. 

“Fuck me”, he gets out, feeling his cheeks heat up instantly. 

“That's not very polite of you, is it?”

“Fuck me please. Please. Please fuck me”, he begs, trembling desperately. He wants to burst, he is so embarrassed and weak and fucking sensitive. He should stop humping you like a needy dog, because it makes him want to cum but he can’t stop. It feels so good to grind against you. 

“There we go. That’s better”, your features soften in fondness, “you’re so perfect when you’re being my good boy”, you praise, releasing his cheeks to instead caress them gently.

There you go again. Messing with him. To go from slapping his face and calling him a slutty brat to caressing his cheeks and calling him your good boy. Yoongi can’t handle it. He felt so perfectly degraded only to be lifted and be made feeling like the most treasured person on earth. He is too drunk and giddy for that.

Yoongi whines and throws his hands over his face, kicking the sheets.

“Please just do it, why are you so mean?” he mewls.

“Why?” you giggle, tugging his hands away to beam at him, “why are you so shy, huh? It’s just me.”

“Yeah, it’s you. Exactly”, he pouts.

Your eyes soften. You rest your chin on his hands as you hold them.

“You’re so cute”, you whisper, stubbing him with your nose. Yoongi closes his eyes, chasing you with a tilt of his head. You stay, whispering the words against his lips, “do you wanna be my good boy and get the strap for me, mhm?”

He nods his head in obedience.

“Good boy, such a good boy”, you praise, rolling off of him, “off you go, get my strap”, you order him and as Yoongi climbs out of bed, you can’t help yourself and slap his butt just once.

“Hey”, he complains, pouting at you with furrowed brows.

“You’re so cute”, you snicker, giving him the biggest heart eyes.

He huffs out air and turns his back to you to waddle to your sextoy dresser instead. He takes out his strap of choice and waddles back to bed. You watch him with a fond grin on your face, stifling a giggle because his walk is rather hilarious.

“Don’t look at me. I hate walking with a boner”, he whines, making you laugh.

“I think you look cute”, you say, “you’re swaying so much, my love. Are you really drunk?”

He falls atop your lap, rubbing himself against you. He nods his head, humming deeply.

“I’m drunk too”, you say.

“I wanna fuck”, he whines, “please put it on. Why are you taking so long?”

“Oh excuse me that I can’t really move when you’re plopping yourself down on me”, you laugh, pinching his sides.

Yoongi giggles, writhing away, “don’t tickle me”, he whines, rolling off of you. You chase him instantly, gripping his waist just to tickle him more. He laughs squeakily, pushing at your chest, “please stop. I hate it.”

“Sorry, sorry”, you snicker, caressing his waist instead, “I couldn’t resist. I love it so much when you laugh.”

“Put it on please”, he begs with burning cheeks. Truly, he is adorable. You realised by now that Yoongi gets those really pink cheeks when he's drunk. Paired with his naturally shy blush and he looks beyond adorable. 

“I am, I am”, you say, slipping on the harness. You make sure that everything sits in place, sighing happily because it grinds against your clit all nicely. You are going to love using it, that much is for sure. You climb back on bed, “done, you- eeek”, you squeak in surprise as Yoongi grips you by your shoulders and throws you into the sheets. 

He climbs on top of you, intertwining his fingers with you and pinning your hands above your head. Like this, his long hair is hanging into his face, framing his glowing features. 

“Wanna ride you”, he confesses, grinding against your tummy. 

“Hot”, you whisper, gawking at him with a dizzy head.

“So stay please”, he begs, widening his eyes.

“Okay. I’ll stay”, you whisper, having to smile, “you're so perfect, my prince.”

“You too”, he says, stealing one kiss from you and then he shimmies down your body, sitting down on your lap. He reaches for the lube bottle and opens it with one hand as the other is busy feeling up your strap.

He spills the lube all over it, lips curling into a dirty smirk as he begins jerking it off while his other hand grips your waist, thumb tracing your tummy.

“You're so fucking hard”, he rasps, leaning over you so his hair was hanging all into his face again. He places his hand right next to your head, lowering his eyes playfully, “you're so fucking into me, aren’t you?”

“Uuuh…yeah?” you let out a breathy laugh, “what the hell is happening? Where's my shy Yoongi Boongie gone?”

“He left”, Yoongi says and laughs, kissing you midsmile which results in him biting your lower lip and tugging on it until you moan, “wanna eat you up. Fuck, I can’t wait to get your strap.”

“You're so hot”, you squeak out, head feeling dizzy in disbelief.  

“I know”, Yoongi says nonchalantly and straightens up, placing his hand on your tummy for support. He lifts himself, shimmying up your body until your strap was aligned with his hole. He grinds on your tip back and forth, half-lidded eyes glued to your face. “Wanna take you so bad, princess.” 

“Then do it”, you rasp, gripping his hips and giving them a little push down.

Yoongi lets you, widening his stance so he could take you easier. The bulbous head breaches him after a second of struggle, forcing an audible gasp out of him.

“Now I’m in. There we go”, you say, caressing his tensing thighs, “how's that, love?” 

Yoongi sinks down further, placing both his hands on your tummy. Like this, his fingers are tickling your sides nicely. He huffs out air loudly, scrunching his nose up.

“How's that, mhm?” 

“Good”, he croaks and bottoms out, arching his back just so his ass sticks out. His lips curl into a dirty smirk, eyes falling closed, “fuck yeah”, he rasps, chasing your girth with smooth rolls back and forth, “ah fuck. Yes, princess. Fuck princess…”

“You're so hot, I can’t believe that you’re real”, you get out, feeling dizzy. He is rubbing the strap against your clit each time he moves his hips. You are not missing out on any of the sensations, that much is sure. 

“Fuck. That feels so good”, he moans, straightening up and tensing his tummy. He begins moving up and down on your cock, not wasting any second with going slow. He is drunk, dumb and horny. And free. He feels so fucking free right now. No self doubt, insecurities and mean voices in his head telling him that he is ugly. Just silence, pleasure and loud voices telling him how much of a sexy motherfucker he is riding your cock. And he wants it. Wants the rush of confidence it gives him, chasing you with fast movements.

“You're so hot, holy fuck, you’re so hot”, you pant, gawking at him with a racing heart. 

Your words only encourage him to keep bouncing on you. He doesn’t care about how loud he sounds doing it, he doesn’t care about what faces he is making or how his cock moves. He'd ruin the moment on other nights, questioning every single thing, but not tonight. Tonight he is free and desperate for more. More. More. More. Give him more. Make him fall freely. More.

“Keep going, holy fuck, you’re so hot”, you praise, slapping his bouncing cock. 

“A-ah”, Yoongi’s hips falter. He looks at you with ruby eyes. Your gazes meet, electric sparks course through your veins at the connection. “again”, he orders, fucking his hips into your palm.

“You drive me insane", you rasp, spanking his pretty cock. 

“Yes”, Yoongi throws his head back, bouncing on your strap within seconds. Hard and fast and with the intent to not stop any time soon. That’s what he needs. Pain and pleasure. It’s the same thing to him and drives him absolutely insane.

Moaning his name, you spank his cock a third time, watching in delight as this makes it leak. You wrap your fingers around him, spreading the hot slick all over his length. 

“Please continue, feels so fucking good”, Yoongi begs, dropping his head back in synch with his hands slamming down on your thighs. Like this, he is grinding on your strap more than he bounces, but the desperate freedom in his movements remains. He is making sure that his hole will remember tonight. That much is sure.

Wet squelching joins the slapping of skin and Yoongi’s unapologetic moaning, mixing with your mewls and the sound of you jerking him off. 

“Leaky boy, you’re so wet for me”, you taunt, holding his cock just so you can spank the tip with your other hand.

Yoongi trembles, squeezing your thighs. He whimpers, chasing the pain with desperate hips. 

“There we go, keep leaking for me. Love that so much”, you praise, rewarding him with a merciless slap to his cockhead followed by you jerking him off with two hands. 

“I’m cumming”, Yoongi gasps, “I'm cumming, I’m cu- ah!” he yelps, releasing all over your torso as he thrusts into your fists. It lands on parts of your face as well, feeling hot on your skin.

“Yes Yoongi, yes”, you growl, forcing him to shake uncontrollably by jerking him off quickly, “cum for me. You perfect slut, cum for me. That’s it, shake for me. Love it when you do.” 

Yoongi writhes, slamming his hands into the pillow on each side of your head.

“Fuck”, he hisses, following it up with a throaty mewl and his lips curling back to reveal his exposed fangs. He chases you. Harsh and fast. His hole is so tight, his cock so sensitive and yet he can’t stop. He can barely even think. All he runs on, is pleasure. It feels so good. He never felt like this before. Is this what he could have if only his own head wasn’t holding him back so much? Is this how sex could feel like? 

Yoongi slams his hips down on you over and over again, drooling from his parted lips because that’s what he does when he feels too good. It normally only happens when he eats your pussy, but tonight you’ve fucked him into complete dumb pleasure.

You don’t mind that he is dripping onto your face, gazing up at him with droopy, foggy eyes. You have never seen him like that. So utterly lost to the pleasure. He has no idea how much this fuels you, how you are shaking in bliss because it feels like a dream come true to have him act so freely. 

Your right hand moves around his cock, while your left runs up to his chest. You pinch his nipple, rolling it between your fingers afterwards. 

“___”, Yoongi moans, squeezing his eyes shut, “___, I’m yours”, he pants, throbbing in your hand.

“Yeah you are. Fuck, you’re mine. Fuck, Yoongi I can’t stop cumming you’re so hot”, you growl, shaking again because his words just felt too good to hear. 

“___, I’m cumming too”, he croaks, scrunching his nose up, “you're milking me”, he adds and groans, climaxing all over your tits and neck.

“I’m milking you?” you gasp, laughing breathily, “oh my fucking god, keep talking like that and I’ll break you.”

“___”, he moans, fucking his pulsating hole through the tightness. His prostate feels on fire and yet he can’t stop. This feels so good. You feel so good. 

Yoongi straightens up and grips your thighs again, showing you his fangs as he throws his head back with an agape mouth.

“___ I’m yours!” he moans loudly, arching his back. His cock is leaking like crazy. His white milky pleasure is running down your tummy by now, soaking the sheets. And yet he can’t stop, leaking continuously as he fucks himself stupid on your strap.

“Holy fuck”, you choke out, “holy fuck, you’re so hot”, you whimper, spilling tears, “Yoongi, my Yoongi, you’re my Yoongi”, you sob, gripping his cock. 

“I'm yours”, he moans deliciously, “spank me, please.”

You grant him his wish instantly, spanking his throbbing cock. 

“Again”, Yoongi demands, chasing your hand. 

Slap! 

“Again”, he growls, clenching around your strap. He can’t get enough of being fucked and spanked and milked. He wants it so bad. Needs it like air.

Slap! 

“Yes! Again.”

“Yoongi, you’re leaking like crazy”, you rasp, voice trembling in pleasure. You spank his cockhead, rubbing your palm against it afterwards. 

“Yes, again please again”, he begs, convulsing on you with trembling thighs. 

Slap!

“Holy fuck, you’re making me cum”, Yoongi laughs darkly, ending it with an audible gasp and an aggressive, “fuck.”

He arches his back, shifting your strap deeper into him. He hasn't noticed it yet, but like this you can see your cock inside of him. It is bulging his tummy, moving each time he bounces on you. 

“Yoongi”, you moan, “Yoongi, why are you so hot?” you keen, spanking his cock with all the love you have for him. You can’t believe that he is real. And that the universe aligned your paths, “I'm so lucky. So fucking lucky”, you say, digging your thumb into his belly bulge in synch with your hand connecting with his cock in a slap. 

“Woah”, Yoongi gasps, holding your wrist, “woah, woah, woah.”

“Feel that? That’s my cock moving inside you”, you taunt, grinding against his bulge.

“Holy shit”, Yoongi croaks, squeezing his thighs around your hips.

“Yeah that’s it. Feel it. That's how deep I go”, you growl, slamming your hips into him as best as the position allows you to. 

“You're making me…cum. ___, I can’t stop”, Yoongi chokes out, shaking in anticipation.

“You're so hot, holy shit", you spit, fucking him angrily. You need him cumming again, need him to continue making a mess on you.

“Yes, yes, yes”, Yoongi chants, chasing you, “now. Now. Ah, now- ah!”

You can feel his high hitting him. You can’t believe it’s real, but you do. His tummy tenses and begins convulsing, taking your cock with hungry ease.

“Fuck, I can feel you cumming”, you growl, digging your thumb deeper into his belly, “you’re so hot.”

“A-ah”, Yoongi lets out and flinches, “no. No. Nonono why?” he sobs and comes to a stop abruptly, forcing you to lift your eyes. He is gawking at you, lips pouted and eyes sad. His hands are on your stomach, fumbling nervously. 

“What's wrong?” you ask him, “don’t wanna make yourself cum anymore, mhm?”

Yoongi blinks rapidly, parting his lips.

“What's wrong?”

“I healed”, he confesses. 

You furrow your brows in confusion.

“I'm sober.”

“Ah”, you understand immediately. His powers healed him. The sobering up process, which takes normal humans many many hours, is sped up for Yoongi. Which means he is clear in the head again and self-conscious. And being on top of your lap with your strap inside of him after he fucked himself senseless is not his preferred comfort place to be. 

You sit up, forcing him to tilt his head back in order not to headbutt you. Your lips are almost touching, your bodies are grinding against each other, smearing his cum everywhere.

“So? Means I gotta fuck you dumb again”, you rasp, eyes pinning him down, “I wanna fucking ruin you.”

He widens his eyes. You grab his hips and force them to move. Back and forth in smooth rolls, forcing your strap to grind against his sensitive insides. 

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, falling around you in a tight hug. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, his chest is melted with yours and his hard cock is rubbing between your stomachs. 

“Oh god”, he gets out, shuddering desperately.

“That's it, my prince, hold me close”, you whisper and wrap your arms around him, hugging him close, “don’t stop now, you fucking love it so much. Hold me baby, hold me.”

Yoongi thanks you with little moans and stuttering hips, fingers twisting in your hair and parted lips moving against your neck.

He is naked with you. Naked, hot and bursting in pleasure. And now you are hugging. Yoongi is actually able to feel your naked skin against his own as you make him drown in pleasure. He is in paradise. He gets to hug you naked. You are hugging. And he is sober for it. Which means, he'll actually remember it tomorrow.  

“Please don’t stop”, he begs, chasing you with growing desperation. He can’t help himself. It feels so good to have you inside him. 

“I won’t, my love”, you promise him, bending your legs so he can sit even more comfortably. 

Yoongi arches his back, moaning each time his little bubble butt connects with your lap. The position forces your strap to go so deep. Yoongi feels fulfilled in ways that still feel like a dream to him. 

“Such a good boy, you’re doing so well”, you praise him, caressing his hips. He tingles because of it, chasing you with even more eagerness. He has more leverage like that. When he was riding you, he didn’t really have a lot of support and Yoongi fucking loved it, but this right here is on a whole other level. To be able to lean against you, to rest against your body and find support in your hug gives him so much comfort. Comfort, but also the opportunity to move on your strap like he needs to. Fast and desperate. Yoongi bends his legs, hooking them behind you and begins moving like he needs to.

“Please don’t stop”, he begs you, drooling all over your shoulder, “oh god, it feels so good.”

“Yeah it does. You fuck me so good, love. So fucking amazing”, you rasp, rubbing his round buttocks in an encouraging manner.

Yoongi hates being a vampire. There is no denying that. He hates it so much, except for when he has sex with you and his powers make him feel everything a million times more intensely. That’s when he fucking loves his nature. That and when his instincts kick in and force him to act against his will in the best way possible. Like rut against you as if he was an animal in heat for example. Or drool all over you because his head tells him that it was feeding time, but he forces his body to feed on something other than blood. Your warmth and the pleasure only you can give him. It tastes so much better than any amount of blood could ever taste.

Yoongi fucks fast and hard once his instincts kick in. The gluttonous, insatiable hunger for whatever addictive substance his body got a taste from takes control of him and makes him its puppet. And that substance was your strap tonight. Your strap and the deafening amount of pleasure you make him feel with it. 

Yoongi may be sober again, but mentally he is completely and utterly busted. Intoxicated on the instinctive urge to fuck and rut and ruin his little hole. Your loving hug and comforting warmth encourage him to go even harder. 

“I can’t stop”, he croaks, trembling harshly, “I can’- ah, stop.”

“That's so fucking hot. You’re so hot, my love”, you moan, feeling lightheaded. He is moving the strap over your clit as he bounces on your length. Mixing that with the sound of his needy fuck and you are this close to giving up, “you feel so good, Yoongi. So good.”

“You. Too. Ah”, he gets out, breaking his lips away from your neck to instead cup your cheek and pull you into a messy tongue kiss. 

You kiss him back gladly, loving every fucking second of it even it is oh so sloppy. Saliva gets mixed, loud moans exchanged and tongues shoved down throats. Truly, this is the kiss between two people utterly lost in the pleasure they give each other. It is nasty and it is fucking glorious. Breaks for air are scattered throughout the kiss, Yoongi uses the opportunities to curse and moan your name. You use the opportunities to praise him and call him handsome.

“Oh god, fuck”, Yoongi croaks, moaning weakly when you run your fingers under his lips.

“You’re drooling so much”, you rasp, forcing him to drool even more.

“Feels so good”, he whimpers, resting his forehead against yours. He knows that he is drooling. His entire chin is covered in it. It’s so embarrassing to him, but you fuck him so hard that he doesn’t even mind right now. Even in his sober state, he doesn’t care. You have him dumb and stupid on your strap, chasing his high because that’s all he wants.

“Spank me”, he begs, “please ___,  please.”

“Spank you”, you repeat, “fuck Yoongi, you drive me insane”, you moan, connecting your hand with his bubble butt.

“Aa-ah”, Yoongi lets out, convulsing on top of you. 

“Like this? Mhm? Is that what you want?” you taunt, landing another spank.

“Yes”, he mewls, “oh ___”, he sobs, falling around your neck. He hides his face in your shoulder, fighting for air as his body moves all on its own. It is sloppy and uncoordinated, but makes him feel so good.

“Good boy”, you praise, spanking him harshly, “you’re my good boy. Such a good boy.”

It burns so much. Yoongi sobs and forces his lips to lift from your shoulder. He guides his trembling hand to his own mouth and bites down hard. If he hadn’t, he would have ended up biting you instead and that would have made him hate himself forever. So he bites his own hand, moans muffled and body trembling like crazy.

You haven’t noticed it yet, enjoying the tighter hug he gives you and spanking his pretty butt.

“Eeh”, Yoongi squeaks, jerking into you, “hgngeng”, he lets out, coming undone from the pain and pleasure. One last time, but this time feels so good that Yoongi starts squirting all over your bodies, clawing at you because quite frankly he is a little scared of what happens to him.

You join him in his wet bliss with a pounding head, holding him so close that you could honestly merge with him.

“Holy fuck that feels so good”, you whimper, moving your hips into him needily.

Just five more strokes and then Yoongi begins flinching in discomfort, tapping your back in panic. He releases his hand, gasping loudly.

“No more”, he begs, “I can’t anymore.”

“Mhm love”, you purr, slowing down your movements until you come to a stop.

Yoongi grows heavy on your lap, flinching and twitching as he recovers. You are both so fucking sweaty, but still hold each other tighter. It’s all you need right now. To hug as you recover. No words need to be spoken – quite frankly neither of you could – and no touches need to be exchanged. Just a hug. One honest, loving hug which says everything the two of you can’t say right now.

You feel sobered up as well. Not a lot, because you are still really dizzy, but the needy fucking definitely helped your mind clear up a little. You still feel ruined though, but that’s only because Yoongi always does that to you. You finally find strength in your arm, running your hand up and down his lower back. Just a little, on the area of where his tailbone and his buttocks meet. His skin is covered in goosebumps instantly.

“Nobody gets me like you do”, Yoongi whispers, voice completely ruined.

“I feel the same, my love”, you breathe, nuzzling your nose into his neck.

“Did I actually do that?”

“You did”, you smile, caressing his hip, “you were amazing.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Hush, don’t start like this. You feel good right now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, so good.”

“Then don’t ruin it with stupid questions. You know that your brain’s mean. Don’t start believing it.”

“I know, sorry”, he whispers.

“It’s okay. You’re my most loved. You know that, don’t you?”

“I am?”

“You are, my love.”

“I love you too”, Yoongi breathes, hugging you tightly, “so fucking much.”

You giggle, squeezing him right back.

“Oh Yoongi Boongie, you are so sweet.”

He purrs, snuggling into you. He sighs, growing heavier on your lap.

“I’m done for”, he whispers.

“Yeah same. I have no idea how often I just orgasmed”, you say, making him chuckle.

“Same”, he says, wiggling his hips, “we’re so dirty.”

“Yeah I know”, you snicker, making him snicker as well.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“Of course not”, you assure him, “why? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No. No, I was just asking because I lost control.”

“You did?” you gasp.

“Yeah”, he says and huffs out air, “felt so good, it’s not my fault”, he whispers in a little whine.

“So that’s how you lose control? Oh my fucking god Yoongi, you are so hot. What the hell?” you gasp, forcing him to lift his head just so you can smooch his lips.

He managed to lick them clean so you would have no idea that he bit himself, except for one little stain of blood on his chin. You wipe it away, furrowing your brows.

“Did you bite yourself?” you ask him.

“No?” he lowers his eyes, “shut up, you’re so mean. It’s your fault”, he whines with a pout.

“Wow okay, I see how it is”, you laugh, “fine, I’m taking all the blame, but I’m not regretting it. You were so hot”, you say, pecking his lips.

Yoongi grumbles, but smiles shyly, leaning into your touch with closed eyes. He looks utterly content with the situation.

“My pretty prince”, you whisper, grinning goofily, “I wanna eat you up.”

“Mhm”, he hums, wiggling his toes when you bite his cheek gently.

“So sweet”, you say, snickering, “also sweaty as fuck”, you say, smacking your lips.

“Ew, you’re so weird”, he whines, pushing at your chest gently, “why would you say that?”

“Why? It’s the truth”, you tease, laughing when he pulls a funny face because of it.

“I’m insecure, don’t say that”, he whispers, pouting cutely.

“Gosh, I’m sorry”, you caress his cheek, “I was only teasing, I don’t mind when you’re sweaty. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah”, he mumbles.

“Mhm good”, you peck his cheek, “still wanna take a shower together? I feel really sticky.”

“Give me two minutes. My legs are dead”, he says, sighing loudly, “seriously, they’re dead.”

“You’re so cute. Of course, take as much time as you need”, you say, “I think you just like sitting on my strap and you’re pretending that your legs are weak.”

Yoongi stays silent but huffs out air, making you snicker and pat his butt.

“Be quiet”, he mumbles, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“I am, I am”, you say, chuckling fondly.

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi oneshot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #sub!yoongi #vampire!yoongi #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts x you #bts x reader #sub!bts #vampire!bts #bangtan smut #bangtan oneshot #bangtan scenario #bangtan fanfic #bangtan x you #bangtan x reader #vampire!bangtan #sub!bangtan #fanfic: sanguis duology

[princessbrunette]

🐰anon is so real reader has two bfs as far as im concerned anymore. jayj and john b go so well together for her😫 jj is such a child that's more likely to get you two n trouble or bend you over for a quickie at the chateau before they leave the dock whilst john b has a little more of a head on his shoulders. don't get me wrong, he's still so golden retriever coded but it's so easy for him to be needed. like he gets off on the fact you crave guidance from him. he's so ready to go along with your stupid stuffies or baby ways if it means you're healin that part of him.

i mean who cares if at the end of the day both boys can team together to have you fucked out in john b's bed right ?? - 🍓

no bc this whole message has me exploding like why is my tummy in knots omg?? 😭

like john b can watch you run around with jj all day doing the silliest things ever, chasing eachother around, splashing around in the water. john b only rolls his eyes when he hears the eventual slapping sounds of jj fucking you in the next room and you’re little whines whilst john b is just tryna look over some maps and do some research 🙄

but he knows at the end of the day you’re gonna come to him all sleepy wearing his tshirt asking him to open a jar for you, or curling up on his lap and asking him to read to you again :(( and feeling needed just gets him off sm he’s so happy to do so <333

#🍓 anon #when 🍓 and 🐰 start collabing w their thoughts yk it’s good #jj x reader x john b

[smallchaoscryptid]

wait okay... you offered qsmp fic recs I LOVE FIC RECS.... please please please please please (<- guy who does not have a lot of time for looking for good fics on ao3 and loves to hear about what media his mutuals like)

okay this is going to be long and it took me so long to make so it will be under a read more and organized by ship and word count and each fic should be linked (also a promo for all my fics on ao3 which is also under the username smallchaoscryptid)

Misc Recs:

Under 1k:

Andrea Doria by White space (Blanc_u) it's like a character study of roier and his dealing with pepito and its relation to his pants (very good almost made me cry)

1k to 10k:

danse macabre by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti) bolas dancing together (just a really fun fic to read)

confiança by atthebell forever comforting cellbit after the black shulker investigation (this fic lives in my brain because atthebell just writes 4bit so well)

Estoy Lista by WhyB cellbit invites jaiden to live in his castle with him and roier (god this fic makes me think about what would have happen if jaiden and roier would have actually kept talking reguarly without bobby)

dead tired by notsubtleatall (orphan_account) roier makes cellbit go to sleep (god i love this fic so much)

Spiderbit Recs:

Under 1k:

napping is better with two by FlowerBox sleepy catbit with roier (really cute)

1k to 10k:

Feather-Light by BecausePlot cellbit crawling into bed to sleep with roier (really cute)

i'm scum, i'm waste (i'm what you want) by songbirdscoo sick cellbit that takes place after spiderbit has a breakup and richas finds roier to take care of sick cellbit (this one is so fucking good its a bit angsty bc of the breakup but its so good)

not quite but we're almost there by atthebell spiderbit takes a walk that is totally not a date (this one is so good and so soft)

The Red Means I Love You!! by Anonymous roier accidentally gets caught in the middle of a ritual cellbit was doing (this fic was so good it took me a bit to realize what was wrong with roier and then once i did i reread the fic and was shaking him violently this fic and its sequal are litterally so good)

that's the deal, my dear by Mitos (SeriouslyCalamitous) cellbit gets turned into a cat and finds roier (this fic is litterally so cute and i love it so much)

Drown With Me by doodooagentg jaiden makes cellbit take care of roier after cellbit had killed abueloier and roier is still angry about abueloier's death (this has such its quiet uptown vibes its insane and ive reread this fic so many times because roiers anger is so acurate here and the ending is just so ahhhhhh)

Helping a friend out by cherryplotting roier helps cellbit solve a puzzle and cellbit gets a kiss (FUCK, THIS HAS A SECOND CHAPTER NOW had to read that before i post this second chapter is also so good)

Over 10k:

It’s Just Some Little Thing by CurrentlyWorry enimies to lovers au where bobby and richas are friends but spiderbit ends up hating eachother for a little bit (god this one was so good its 171k and i read it in two days and am thinking about reading it again)

Breaking Dawn by Anonymous cellbit is a monster hunter looking into werewolves and meets a guy who turns out to know a lot about werewolves (this fic is unfinished as of right now but is so good and i cant stop rereading it)

those of flowering hearts and wilting souls by yourfauxentropy beauty and the beast au with a twist (this one is so good there was a point where i thought this fic wasnt going to have a happy ending but it still had such a grip on me)

your palms; a home for my soul by mars_revived roiers heart is shattered in to peices and he shouldnt be able to love ever again but he meets cellbit who might be able to help him (i need to read this one again its so good and like how subitally the author has them fall in love has me insane)

mystical time, cuttin' me open then healin' me fine by foolich (enhypen) festa junia timeloop!!! festa junia timeloop!!! festa junia timeloop!!!festa junia timeloop!!! (i love this one so much because the author was so good of messing with the readers feelings with the timeloop)

interstellar by mirotic_chess cellbit gets trapped on a distant planet after he crashes on it and is luckily helped out by one of the inhabitants (god the ending of this fic makes me so!!!)

Estoy Lista by WhyB by de4thveins roier sneaks away from his princely duties to gawk at cellbit

Fitpac Recs:

1k to 10k:

Promise? by TastyToast takes place during the happy pills arc pac runs away and fit finds him and comforts him

Trust Me? by AelinCreativ another happy pills arc fic but its what happened if fit would have been there for pac when it happened (probably my favorite one of these type fics)

Beyond the Haze by Mitos (SeriouslyCalamitous) happy pills arc but fit is there for pac the entire time (this one is also really good)

#Williams whispers #fic recs #i did my own summaries because otherwise this would be so much longer

[simplepotatofarmer]

just a little bit

rating: general characters: technoblade, dream tags: hurt/comfort, amputation, torture mentions, aftermath of torture, sheep hybrid dream

Techno did his best not to look at Dream. He couldn’t. If he did, he would lose focus, have one more thing adding to the rage and grief that was building up in his chest, feeling like a weight that was crushing him. All he could was hold Dream against him as he nudged Carl into a gallop. In his arms, Dream shuddered weakly.

“How’s it feel to see the sky again?” Techno asked because he had to say something and this should’ve been a good moment and not covered in blood and sorrow.

Dream let out a breath. The pain in it was evident.

“It—It feels great,” he said, weakly, each word forced out.

Techno wanted to look down then but instead held onto the reins tighter. When he spoke, his voice was thick and wavering.

“Yeah, I bet, man.”

In the gentle light of the cabin, it was impossible not to look. If Techno wanted to help, then he had to. He took a deep breath and knelt next to the couch. Dream’s curly hair was matted and dirty to the point Techno wasn’t certain what color it was; in the cell the light had been to dim to tell. Both of his horns were broken and Techno was certain that hadn’t been the case when he had left Dream.

The missing leg was new, too.

Techno rocked back on his hooves and rubbed a hand over his snout.

“Dang it.”

“Wh—What?”

Dream didn’t seem as if he fully knew where he was at the moment, let alone present enough to parse the situation. He was merely responding to the fact Techno had spoken, eyes glassy and unfocused. Patting his hand, Techno forced a smile.

“Nothin’, Dream,” he said. “I just realized I’m gonna have to use up my stock of healin’ potions on you.”

“…don’t need any,” said Dream, words slurred and arms shaking as he tried to push himself upright on the couch.

“Nah, nah, don’t do that, alright, Dream.” As carefully as he could, Techno pushed him back. “You just stay still before you hurt yourself.”

A weak sigh escaped Dream. It had a tinge of annoyance that made Techno smile as he got up. The potion on the brewing stand was a strength potion and he set it aside. He couldn’t have brought all his health potions, right? He dug through the nearby chest until he found what he was looking for.

“Ah ha,” he said, holding the potion up in Dream’s direction. Dream’s eyes were partially closed, horizontal pupils disappearing behind his lids. He was so still that for a moment Techno thought he was dead. “Dream?”

He moved to the couch and touched Dream’s shoulder. Part of Techno was expecting him to be startled, tensing in case Dream lashed out, but there was nothing other Dream slowly opening his eyes. Techno wasn’t certain Dream was even seeing him.

“Hey, man, don’t go passin’ out on me.” Techno sat on the edge of the couch. The only reason he could fit was because Dream had lost most of his body weight and barely took up any space. “You wanna sit up so you can take this healin’ potion?”

Dream sniffed.

“No.”

“Heh?” Techno blinked. “Not gonna lie, Dream, you look like you’re on death’s door. You need somethin’.”

“Are you—Are you serious, Technoblade?”

Uh oh, full name, thought Techno and stayed silent, letting Dream continue his rant.

“They cut my fucking leg off, Techno. What is your—What is your stupid potion going to do?”

Techno shifted on the couch. It squeaked a little beneath his weight.

“Well, you’re not wrong there, Dream. I can’t regrow your leg.”

“No shit, idiot.”

A sheen of sweat covered Dream’s pale skin; just speaking like this was draining him.

“However, you’re bleedin’ all over my dang couch and if you’re gonna clean it up later, I need you alive, alright, man?”

An incredulous look settled on Dream’s face and he gave a huff that was almost like a laugh.

“Whatever,” he said.

It was acquiescence. Techno placed his hand behind Dream’s back – the jumpsuit damp from blood and sweat – and helped him sit up. He couldn’t tell if the minimal effort from Dream was stubbornness or a genuine inability to move. Neither would’ve surprised him.

“Here.”

Techno held the potion up to Dream’s mouth. Both his hands and lips were trembling and after a moment, Techno tipped it back for him, pouring the liquid into his mouth. He was hoping for an immediate improvement but the only clear sign the potion had any effect was some of the larger wounds knitting closed. All the bruises remained.

“See, that’s better, yeah?” asked Techno, knowing that it wasn’t, not really, but hoping beyond hope that there was some silver lining, as he gently tugged on one of Dream’s soft, diamond shaped ears. His smile was still forced.

“No.”

His voice broke despite how hard Dream was working to stop it.

“They cut off my leg,” Dream repeated. “He—He burned my horns off, Techno. They’re—They won’t grow back. It’s never going to be better.”

Techno’s eyes flicked to the top of Dream’s head. He had noticed the missing horns right away but he hadn’t looked closer. The thick, curly hair had hidden the damage. Techno pushed it back; the burns were shiny and ugly, the hair around singed. What had been done to Dream in that prison had irrevocably changed him, in more ways than one. It made Techno’s chest hurt and without thinking, he pulled Dream into a hug.

And just like earlier, Dream’s reaction wasn’t what Techno expected.

Dream tensed for a brief moment but then sagged against Techno, wrapping his thin and shaking arms around him. His remaining fingers were thin and boney and dug into Techno’s shoulders as if he was holding on for dear life.

Dream was holding back the sobs.

Then he couldn’t anymore.

Tightening his grip as best he could without hurting Dream, Techno dipped his head down to rest his chin on Dream’s shoulder, afraid anything else would be painful.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dream, it’s gonna be okay.”

The words felt hollow but Techno meant them.

“You’re a—a really bad liar, Techno,” Dream said, voice full of phlegm, words broken up by hiccupping sobs.

“I can’t believe you’re callin’ me a lair, man, I’m offended.” Techno nudged the side of Dream’s head with his snout. “Technoblade never lies.”

“That’s—That’s so dumb.” The crying had lessened. Just a little, but it was something. Dream pressed his face into Techno’s shoulder. He took a deep breath. “Are you being serious?”

The words were so quiet that if Techno hadn’t been hugging him, he wouldn’t have heard them.

“Dream, I’m bein’ so serious right now,” said Techno, pulling back and holding Dream by the arms. His green eyes were red and swollen around the rims. “Look at me, do you see how sincere I am? Do you?”

“Y-yeah, whatever.” 

“Do you believe me? Hmmm?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Dream’s face and disappeared almost immediately. But it was there, even for a moment.

It wouldn’t be okay, not anytime soon, and Dream wasn’t sure it ever would be, but he wanted to believe Techno and so he would try, at least a little.

“Alright, fine, yeah.”

Techno smiled, genuine.

“See, I knew you’d come around,” he said, “but we gotta get you another healin’ potion, man, you’re still bleedin’ all over my couch.”

#this is a commission but i don't remember the url on here i'm SO SO SORRY #technoblade #dreamwastaken #dsmp fanfic #dream smp #rivals duo #rivalsblr

[babygirlbdubs]

sighs. alright. i couldn't get it out of my head so uh. here, have a continuation of this quacktho ficlet from the quarterfinals. (i didn't wanna hijack stuff's post again so new post)

***

Etho's exhausted. Normally, taking Scar down in a fight is easy. But between the mass Jellie army, and Etho's own wear from the quarterfinals... if he'd just had more time...

He lay on the ground, chest rising and falling softly-- chest rattling as he breathes through his mask. The sky above is painted in morning light, the fight having lasted all night. It's the first moment Etho's had to rest since he and Mumbo walked onto the field days ago.

"It's not fair..." he mutters to no one in particular.

"Yeah, man," comes a newly familiar voice. Quackity sighs and sits in the dust with Etho, looking over at him with a crooked smile. "That's how this shit goes. Never is fair."

Etho's brows furrow as he looks up at the duck. "You have experience with this kind of thing?" he asks with a light scoff.

"Ohhh, a bit." Quackity flops back to lay next to his ally, one arm folding back behind his head as he settles. "Hey, you think they'd let us pool our votes? Bet we'd take Scar out then."

The hermit snorts and shakes his head, looking back up at the sky. He's quiet for a few moments, the loss truly starting to settle.

"If we'd just had a break, maybe I could've--"

"Hey, hey! Don't think like that, man!" Quackity lightly punches his arm, making Etho look at him with a bit of a glare. "Dude, if fuckin' Technoblade couldn't beat him, I dunno who can." He reaches out, interlacing their fingers and giving Etho's hand a light squeeze. "You gave him the closest fight outside of Techno, and you did that after fighting against Mumbo and Joe."

For a few moments, Etho just looks at him, processing what's been said. His face relaxes a little and he nods.

"Yeah. Guess you're right."

Quackity's face brightens, the wings on either side of his head perking up. "Oh! I was cheering you on, did you see?"

Etho laughs softly, a bit of affection creeping into his gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I saw." He looks like he has something to say, but isn't sure... he swallows and looks past Quackity as he speaks. "I'm, uh... I'm glad it was you. You're a good partner."

"Heeell yeah, I am!" The duck laughs brightly. "Don't sell yourself short, though. I'm damn glad to have had you on my side."

The pair meet eyes for a moment, sharing something between them that there are no words for.

Quackity is the one to break his gaze away, looking down at their interlocked hands. "C'mon." He sits up and tugs lightly at Etho. "Let's go get you patched up and join the others. The finals are gonna be the best fight yet, I bet."

Etho groans as he hauls himself up. "Yeah, yeah." He lets Quackity let go of his hand in favor of wrapping an arm around Etho's waist. The hermit sags against him, grateful for the support. "You healin' okay?"

"Ah, stop worryin' about me, babe, I'm fine!" He starts leading Etho off the field, one step at a time. "I've had way worse. I mean, look at this scar!" Pointing to his face with his free hand, he flashes a grin-- gold tooth glinting in the rising sun.

"Alright, alright," Etho laughs out-- cutting off to cough. "... Ow."

Quackity gives him a sympathetic look and lifts up to his toes to press a quick kiss to Etho's cheek, admiring the blush that creeps over Etho's ears from it.

It only takes a few moments before Quackity is speaking again. "Y'knooowww... You should come visit Las Nevadas sometime. I think you'd dig it!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Fuck yeah, dude!"

Etho contentedly listens as Quackity starts talking about his city. Of all the things he'd expected to happen in this tournament, this certainly wasn't one of them.

But... he's happy it did. In fact, he's already drawing up business plans for Shade-E-E's in his head.

#spooky.writing #quacktho #so um.... listen... uh.... #i don't really have an excuse for this one #i just couldn't stop thinking about them? and now. erm. #have this i guess??? #sighs... i don't know anymore guys #mcytblr sexymen poll #mcytblr sexyman #<- bc why the fuck not #i'm not maintagging the characters tho nuh uh #ethogirls4quackblr

[jhilsara]

Tie Me to You / Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After leaving her parents home Mika finds herself in her grandfathers manor...with five incubus men?

Word Count: 2.2k

<Last | Next>

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of death and grief, nonconsensual kissing

This fanfic will explore heavier emotions and will have eventual smut. Minors DNI

Can also be found on AO3 X

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Were there clues that I didn't see?

invisible strings - Taylor Swift

Chapter 2

Her car is filled with a couple duffle bags and random objects thrown into her back seat haphazardly. She’s gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, staring at the front door of her grandfather’s mansion.

In theory, storming off and out of her parents house seemed like a good idea. But here she was, alone, staring at the front door she’s seen a million times before… but she knows when she opens the door he won’t be there.

No kind words or warm hugs. No silly smiles or awful jokes. No unconditional love. 

His presence will be there, all of his stuff, she’ll have to go through it all.

Alone. 

She stayed unmoving, tears welling up but refusing to fall. Unsure if she was crying from frustration or grief.

She takes a deep and shaky breath before grabbing her bag of clothes and going in. She could grab the rest later. She just needs a change of clothes and to go to sleep.

Once inside the house she turns on the front entrance lights and she looks around the all too familiar home. She can’t find it in herself to do more than navigate to the living room. She can’t go upstairs yet, it’s just too much for her. She drops her duffle bag next to the couch and lays down. She lays there on the couch staring at nothing for hours. Silently sobbing.

She doesn't know when she passed out, but she is shocked awake. A loud slam comes from the entry way and it sends her sitting up straight with enough adrenalin to keep her wide awake.   

She scatters off the couch and grabs the first thing she can, which happens to be the floor lamp. It’s not a stellar choice, but it’ll work.

She sneaks into the entry hall, prepared to swing, and prepared for it to be her father since he probably has a key.

It’s a massive surprise when she sees five men laying out on the floor covered in blood.

She screams and raises the lamp above her head, “Who are you?!”

They all collectively groan but one man looks up at her, his golden eyes pierce right through her.

“Where is Harold?” He gasps out, tone harsh and demanding.

She tightens her grip on the lamp, his eye flash over to it then back to her, “Why do you need to know?” she hisses out.

His glare is something fierce, but maybe it’s just the blood on his face, “We need his help!” he grits through his teeth.

A shiver of fear runs down her back. Her eyes drift to the other men on the floor who look to be in worse shape than the one talking to her. She’s weighing the choices of the truth or lying. The longer she looks at them the more she concludes they aren’t moving to attack anytime soon.

She sighs, keeping her grip tight, “Grandpa's gone…He passed away a few days ago.” She tells him quietly.

One of the men on the ground slams his fist into the floor, “Fuck!”

His voice booms making Mika flinch for a moment, before her eyes return to the golden gaze staring holes into her.

“She tells the truth James.” One of the red headed men whispers as he shifts to face the dark-haired man.

The two stare at each other for a beat before they turn to look at her again.  

“Please, we need help. If you’re like your grandfather please help us.” The one called James finally asks her in a strained, but nicer tone.

She shuffles back a step and places the lamp down, “I-I don’t know what that means. Just let me call you an ambulance.” She turns to go back to the couch where she left her phone.

“No!” her wrist is caught in a tight grip, the brunette from the floor has appeared as if by magic next her, holding her in place with surprising strength.

She opens her mouth to tell him to let go, but as soon as she makes eye contact she loses all her fight.

His eyes are flickering between green and gold and a warmth envelops her. She feels like there’s no one else in the room, it’s just her and him.

He pulls her into him by her wrist and captures her lips. She knows there’s something wrong, but there is no fight in her. She’s melting into this stranger and while she wants to push away, she can’t.

“Sam get off of her!” One of them is shouting, but it all just sounds like she’s underwater.

She’s lost in this man, a stranger, and she knows she shouldn’t like it, but she’s pulled in.

“Sam!” another one shouts.

He pulls away, gently, and she feels herself come back. He’s holding her to him touch light as a feather.

She shakes her head a little, hearing them argue in the background while she comes back to her sense.

“Sam you can’t just enthrall her like that!”

“Seriously what is wrong with you?!”

“She was gonna call an ambulance! What did you want me to do?” His voice is deep and she feels the reverb, and finally she’s back to her senses.

She looks up at the man, a fierce scowl on her face, and open palm smack him across the face.

“Do not fucking touch me again!” Mika shoves him away from her and takes a few, fumbling, steps back.

“Shit!” Sam, she thinks his name is, grabs his face and flinches back away from her. He glares daggers at her.

“What the fuck!” he yells.

“Sam calm down.” One of the red heads is up and trying to hold Sam back, he’s trying to stalk toward her.

“What is your damage?! You can’t just go around breaking and entering into people’s homes and then kiss them!” she shouts, reaching for the lamp behind her.

Sam halts in his path, eyes wide and face flushed. “When you put it like that-yeah it sounds bad! But that’s not what happened!” he stops trying to shove by the other man and crosses his arms in irritation.

“That’s exactly what happened!” she screeches.

“Sam stop it. This argument is going in circles.” James tells him and stands up, slowly.

The four other men are all standing now, looking exhausted and irritated.  

“She doesn’t know who we are Sam. This is scary for a single young woman.” The red head in front of Sam tells him.

Sam’s face falls and he has the sense to look remorseful.

He reaches back to scratch his head, “Uh, I didn’t, fuck.” He sighs and hangs his head in shame before looking her in the eyes, “I’m sorry. I don’t normally use my powers like that.”

She believes his apology but she’s confused about what he said. What does he mean by powers? She hasn't a clue what he's even talking about.

The red head looks over at her and he sighs. He steps forward, and she takes one back. He stops and just puts his hands up, to show no ill will.

“Miss this is going to sound fake and very confusing, but please, listen to us.” He tells her in a calm and soothing voice.

She bristles and anger floods her, “Why should I?! Give me one reason I shouldn’t call the cops right now!”

He keeps his tone even, and calm, “We’re friends, or I guess we were friends, with your grandfather. I’m Damien, and these are my brothers.” He points to each of them, “James, Erik, Sam, and Matthew.” He goes down the line of the golden eyed man she was talking to first, the other red-haired man who she now realizes almost has purple eyes, the brunette who man handled her, and lastly the scrappy looking one with a mess of black hair.

“We’ve been living here. We didn’t break in.” He pulls out a set of keys from his pocket.

She raises her brow, “That makes no sense, I’ve never seen you before. Why,” she scoffs, “Why would he conveniently forget to mention that he had five men living with him?!” she is not staying calm, she’s about to laugh these men out of her home.  She feels exhausted and a little delirious. This all just seems ridiculous.

“We’ve been traveling,” James starts trying to fill in the gaps, “We didn’t think Harold would…” he trails off, looking down to the floor brow furrowed.

She huffs out a scoff and feels her eyes well up. She refuses to cry in front of these strangers. She rubs her face, trying to hide it.

“Yeah well, none of us did…” she mutters, more to herself but they all hear it.

“We owe your grandfather a lot, but it seems this is your home now.” One of them who she hasn’t really heard speaks up, his voice is more leveled and clearer, trying to be sympathetic. His purple eyes look into her, like he sees something she can't. She doesn’t like feeling analyzed.

She shakes off the feeling and takes a deep breath, pulls her hair back and closes her eyes to collect her thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s going on or who you guys are. If you’re serious about living here though, I’m gonna need proof. Right now, this just seems crazy.” She tells them.

Sam lets out his own exasperation, crossing his arms, “Why should we have to prove anything.” He mumbles.

She whips her head around to him, eyes burning with rage, “I could just call the cops!” she barks out.

“We can prove it!” Damien interrupts them, in a small voice calling her attention back. “I know this is very,” he pausing trying to find the right words, “upsetting and confusing. I know my brothers aren’t making it easier, but here.” Damien pulls out his phone and shows it to her.

She snatches it from his hand to see what he’s trying to use as evidence.

There’s a whole album of photos in his phone. Trips with her grandfather, big group dinners, a few silly videos, some with her grandfather happily laughing at whatever is going on.

“There’s this too.” Damien closes out of the photos and pulls up a text thread.

It’s a whole group chat.

She looks at in confusion and scrolls as far up as she can. It’s not new or recent, it goes back for some months. She looks at what was the most recent and it’s a text from her grandfather.

Can’t wait for you boys to get back. I bought something great for dinner and was thinking of inviting my granddaughter soon too.

She reads it again and again. She shuffles back to the couch to grab her own phone to double check the numbers.

It’s his cell number. It perfectly matches.

“I…He just sent you this, a few days ago. I, I’m sorry.” She quietly hands the phone back to Damien; all the adrenalin has left her body.

Sadness and grief fill the void were anger was just present. She’s surrounded by five strangers, who her grandfather trusted enough to live with, and she has just delivered the worst news to them. She's also battling why her grandfather was hiding these men in the first place. Did he not want her to know? She had so many questions and only these men had the answers.

“While this proves you were living here, it doesn’t explain everything. Why are you all covered in blood and look like you’ve gotten your asses handed to you? Why did he kiss me?” she asks, no heat behind her words, just confusion.

They all look at each other, silently asking if they should tell her the truth.

James steps forward, “We’re uh, well, there is no easy way to say this.” He sighs and looks at his brothers for confirmation before locking eyes with her again.

“We’re demons. Incubi to be exact.” He tells her.

Silence is followed. She just blinks at him like he’s grown two heads. A minute passes before she speaks.

“That’s not funny. I’ve had a long day and I don’t really need crazy stories from five strange men in my home.” She says sternly, her fists tightening by her side.

“We are though. That’s why Sam kissed you. He needed energy. Which is why he looks like he could run a marathon right now and we’re all still struggling to even stand.” James tells her, shooting his brother a serious glare.

Sam just shrugs.

“I’m not here for arguments about mythical beings. Prove to me that you’re demons.” She says the words and almost immediately regrets them. She’s too tired and emotionally spent to think straight.

“Fine.” Erik says and steps towards her in two large strides.

“Erik do not!” Damien shouts to him but it doesn’t stop his older brother.

Erik holds her gaze and she sees his, inhuman, purple eyes flicker to gold. Again, a wave of calm envelops her. He reaches out for her face and she lets him, almost melting to his touch.

She wants to pull from him, but she can’t. It’s like before. She’s realizing she’s trapped, a fake sense of want and need falling over her body, making her crave him.

Erik kisses her and she feels the difference this time. She’s trying to not focus on the kiss but herself. She feels the energy draining from her body. She’s growing weaker the longer he kisses her. She manages to pull herself away from him, and gives him a half-hearted shove.

“I didn’t mean like that!” she steps towards him but she falters. The room starts to spin and she feels her legs give out.

Large arms grab for her before her world is blanketed in darkness.

#seduce me the otome #fanfiction #seduce me the demon war #seduce me otome #seduce me sam #seduce me james #seduce me erik #seduce me matthew #seduce me damien

[moriihana]

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || one: an extremely determined cat

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won't leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: nugget literally will not leave dabi alone, dabi calls him gay, you threaten to dump stolen soup on his head.

content: fluff, angst

word count: 1170 words

*previously known as "we can't fix each other (but we can heal our wounds together)"; i changed the title bc these assholes aint healin shit they're just being overall menaces

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

“Oi, little mouse.” Dabi’s voice roused you from your nap. “Your fuckin’ cat got into my apartment again.”

It’d been four months since Dabi moved into the apartment complex, and Nugget fucking loved the guy—his quirk was fire-based, and he constantly ran several degrees warmer than the normal human. The little fucker was always sneaking out of the apartment to sniff out Dabi and latch onto him like a leech.

“Listen man, I’ve tried to keep him in the apartment. He’s a damn escape artist. Y’know I tried barricading the fuckin’ door? He got around it! Don’t ask me how, I’ve no fuckin’ clue!” You groaned, sitting up. 

Dabi placed Nugget onto the floor, watching the little shit trot happily over to you. “Stick him in a cabinet or somethin’, I dunno.”

“I am not sticking my cat in a cabinet!”

“Is there a closet?”

“Are you calling my cat gay?”

“Could be. Never leaves me alone.” Dabi leaned against the doorframe, grinning lazily.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Insufferable, you are.”

“Yet you let me stay here,” he countered.

“I don’t think I could make you leave, my guy. You’re like… several times stronger than me. Probably.”

“Oh, I’m definitely stronger than you, little mouse.” With that and a wink, Dabi waved and walked off.

You grumbled to yourself, giving Nugget a couple pats on the head. “What am I going to do with you, hm?” You shook your head and smiled. “Clever little thing.” Nugget bumped his head up against them a couple times, then went and curled up next to Boo's side.

Two days later, Dabi showed up in your doorway again, holding Nugget out in front of him. His hair was wet from just getting out of the shower. You raised an eyebrow at him from your spot in the kitchen, looking between his bored expression and Nugget. “This is getting ridiculous. Your cat broke into my bathroom. You sure he ain't gay, little mouse? Cus he seems determined to see my—”

“Please don't say your dick. I really don't need that mental image in my head,” you cut him off, willing away the heat in your cheeks before Dabi noticed. Judging by the smirk that curled at his lips, he definitely noticed.

“You sure about that, little mouse?” He drawled, setting Nugget down and stepping closer to you. You laughed nervously, your face growing warmer.

“Don't flatter yourself, pretty boy.” Fuck. Definitely didn't mean to say that.

“Pretty boy, huh?” Dabi huffed out a laugh. He fixed his gaze on you. You shrugged a little helplessly. “You really are an odd one, little mouse.” He turned on his heel and headed out the doorway with a wave. “I'll see you around.”

Once you were certain Dabi was out of earshot, you groaned loudly. “Fuck. I really need to think before I speak.” You looked at Nugget and sighed, shaking your head. “Why can't you just stay in the apartment like Boo does? You're gonna be the death of me, Nug.” The little bastard just purred, wrapping himself around your leg a few times before going and curling up in a sunny spot.

You shook your head again, then turned and searched through your cabinets for some food. “...shit. Okay. I'm out of food. Guess I gotta go find some. Fuck.” You ground your teeth together and turned back to Boo and Nugget.

“Alright, you two. I have to go out. Nugget,” you pointed your finger at the circle of fur, “you better stay here. Boo, keep an eye on your brother. I don't think I can see Dabi again today without spontaneously combusting. Of all the people who had to find this place, it had to be a pretty boy with an attractive personality.” You ran a hand over your face and grabbed your cane and backpack, heading out the doorway. As soon as you were gone, Nugget got up from his spot on the floor and trotted right out. Boo did absolutely nothing to stop him. Oh well.

You came back a few hours past sunset to find Dabi sitting on your mattress with Nugget in his lap. He had his head tilted back, seeming to be asleep.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Came by to hand him off and saw you weren't here, thought I'd stick around to make sure ya got back from wherever in one piece,” Dabi mumbled drowsily, patting Nugget's head once before dropping his hand back down.

You raised an eyebrow, walking to your kitchen and setting your backpack down. “Worried about me, pretty boy?” You asked teasingly as you began to retrieve the food you stole, deciding to keep the nickname for him. Dug my grave, might as well lie in it. 

Dabi cracked an eye open, watching you pull out a water bottle and take a drink from it. “Your company ain't half bad, doll. I'd hate to see your pretty face all banged up.” He snickered when you choked on your sip of water.

“Doll—?” You sputtered, thumping a fist against your chest. Dabi had the most shit-eating grin you had ever seen curling at his lips and pulling at his staples. 

“Yep.” His grin grew wider at your surprised expression, laughter rumbling out of his chest. You stared at him.

“You're also going to be the death of me. You and Nugget are going to put me in an early grave. Boo's the only one on my side here.”

“Awh, don’t be like that, little mouse,” Dabi said, closing his eyes again. “I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to you.” He sounded like he was falling asleep. 

You chose to ignore that last part, instead focusing on the fact that he was falling asleep on your mattress. “Hey, don’t go falling asleep on my bed! I have to sleep there!” 

The man faked a loud, obnoxious snore. 

“Dabi!” You abandoned your task of putting away the stolen food, glaring at him. You narrowed your eyes when he didn’t respond. “Pretty boy, if you don’t move off my mattress, I will dump canned soup on your head.”

“Harsh, doll.” Dabi relocated Nugget from his lap, grinning at your scowl. “Lucky for you, I don’t want soup in my hair.” He got up and stretched his arms above his head. You made a point to ignore the fact his shirt rode up and showed some of his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, then eyed the canned soup. “You got food in your apartment? I’ve got enough to last a couple of days, and you look awfully bony, pretty boy.”

Dabi seemed to hesitate, before nodding and swiping two cans off the counter. “I guess the least you can do after your cat keeps tormenting me is give me some shitty canned soup.”

“Nugget does not torment you,” you laughed. “Now go, before I take my shitty canned soup back.” 

“You would never,” Dabi shot back, heading out the door. “Later, little mouse.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #todoroki toya x reader #todoroki toya x you #toya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x you #my writing #bnha fanfiction #navi: we cant fix each other #writing.txt

[luccettis]

all roads lead back to you

chapter one - therapy

The dizzying buzz of the doors being unlocked in cell block D of Marion Juvenile Detention Center. This was Wayne’s routine. Get up at 6 AM. Make your bed. 6:15. Out for breakfast at 6:30. Breakfast. Individual time. Lunch at 12. Therapy - sometimes, it was individual or it was group. Then group activities. Visit time - or individual time if no one came to visit you. Dinner at 6. Individual time. Bed at 8 PM. And this was Wayne’s day, each day, as it had been for the last 6 weeks. 

Wayne McCullough had a compound fracture in his right arm. He walked around with his arm in a sling, and his head down. And to Wayne? What a horrible thing to do. But being down an arm didn’t make him the invincible boy he was used to being. The cast would come off in another 2 to 4 weeks. Then he had physical therapy. And he knew his arm was gonna be really weak once it came out. The rest of the boys were okay - he stayed out of everyone’s way. He got shoulder checked on occasion, and godamn it hurt. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

Each day was more arduous than the last.  

Get up at 6 AM. Make your bed. 6:15. Out for breakfast at 6:30. Breakfast. Individual time. Lunch at 12. Therapy. Group activities. Visit time, or individual time. Dinner at 6. Individual time. Bed at 8 PM. 

Every fucking day. 

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

To say Wayne became passive would be a terrible mischaracterization of him, even with his shattered arm. Every other day, he found himself in the infirmary or in trouble for causing problems - inciting a fight, or swinging his fist despite his obvious disability to truly fight the way he knew how. Therapy was a drag as a group - he didn’t find any interest in truly listening to anyone. Stories about running away, robbing gas stations for the 98 dollars they had in their register, or beating up on some kid in school because they were scrawny - he didn’t understand how people could be such fucking assholes and this is where they were. He wasn’t sorry about all the fights he caused, or when he got his ass kicked in his sling. Someone had to show these people what life was about when they crossed Wayne’s path of destruction. He can’t say he didn’t try being passive, or try “being the bigger person” as his therapist described. 

“How are you feeling today, Wayne?” 

His eyes are settled, staring at a photo in the office of the juvenile hall’s counselor  - Terrence Brown. His counselor had dark skin, and eyes equally as dark, but warm and inviting. His hair was in long, textured locs with a fade running down his temples. He was clean cut - wearing a white polo, and khaki chinos. He had a few tattoos on his face, and some on his arms. In previous sessions, in attempts to make Wayne feel more comfortable, he told Wayne he had gone to prison. He served his time there and learned about psychology, and wanted to become a therapist for youth in the American juvenile justice system. He had been doing this for about five years now, and had a husband and two kids. His demeanor was kind, and he never raised his voice - even when Wayne heard his other fellow cellmates screaming in his office, Terrence never raised his voice. Wayne found it impressive, because he would want to break someone’s jaw so they could never utter another sound. 

“Fine.” His grey-green eyes peered forward at the man. He looks down at the blue cast on his arm. 

“I see you have more people signed your cast.” Terrence replies, and his eyes look down. They’re not signatures. They’re swear words. 

“Nobody’s signed my cast.” 

This is how their conversations went. They were short. Wayne went because he had to. Terrence kept trying because he swore to himself he would make a break in Wayne’s case. Not that he was going anywhere. 

“Did they tell you when you’d get it off?” 

“Dunno. Said it would be eh, another 6 weeks. Then I got some other healin’ stage or some shit.” He shrugs, looking down at his arm again. On the forearm portion of the cast, where no one could see it, he wrote Del’s name. The necklace was never not on his person. He wouldn’t go anywhere without it. Someone explained to him all the scientific details, about how the fracture had kinda healed, but the external callus - the new bone - was fragile, so it still needed to be protected. Then it needed to remodel, or whatever that means. 

“You’re getting close then. Dr. Trapper told me you got into a fight with Christian again. He said you really should be careful about getting into fights. I think you’d be pretty upset if you rebroke it again.” Terrence crosses his legs, and leans back in his seat. He half frowns. “I know how much it means to you that it heals properly.” 

Wayne tenses in his seat, sitting up and looks down at his white slip-on shoes. He doesn’t answer. 

“What have you been doing during your individual enrichment time?” Terrence wanted to bring up Del. He could tell.

“I been trying to read.” He answers, shrugging. Trying was the keyword. He wasn’t interested in reading. He read a little bit of a book that Del had when he rescued her from the hell of the high school she wasn’t even enrolled in. It hurt too much, and it didn’t hold his attention enough, truthfully, to continue. “Sittin’.” 

“Jesus said he did some weight training with you the other day.” Terrence acknowledged. Wayne didn’t do a lot. He was trying to encourage him. “How did that go?” 

“Fine.” It was okay. Jesus was his cellmate neighbor. He was friendly with Wayne. He was put into juvie for joyriding in his mom’s boyfriend’s Cadillac. They did do weight training. He didn’t find the importance in it enough to really remark it as an activity. 

“What else do you do?” 

“Nothin’.” 

“Are you participating in group activities?” 

Wayne looks up for a minute, before looking back down. Kind of.

“I think this week, they’re going to have someone come in and teach you guys how to do the paint pouring.” 

“We painted last week.” 

“Paint pouring is different. You lay the canvas flat, and you pour paints onto it - and it creates a pattern with the different colors. You hold it up, and the paint slides down and makes the pattern more intricate.” Wayne respected how well spoken Terrence was. He wasn’t disrespectful towards him, he was just indifferent to him as he was to everyone else that he had met. 

“Oh.” 

“Daniel said you don’t talk much in group therapy. Are you still finding it hard to get comfortable?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk to those people.” 

Terrence admired that Wayne was straightforward, and blunt. He wasn’t completely disconnected from his setting. He had seen some of the crafts Wayne did, even though they came out terribly. His painting - opposed to the prompt, which was a snowy forest - was just a moon, and trees. No snow. Some stars. He still tried. He tried pottery. He just ended up making a really chunky bowl, and glazed it black. It was ugly - but he didn’t think Wayne ever tried pottery before. Having a broken arm really didn’t help either. He didn’t fault him for that. But he didn’t participate in group therapy. Anytime his coworker, Daniel, tried engaging him, Wayne told them to fuck off. 

“You have a panel hearing in another couple of months. What kind of feelings does that spark for you?” He was prodding again. 

“I dunno.” 

“You don’t know how you feel at the possibility of getting your sentence reduced?” 

“I don’t know that.” 

“What?” 

“If my sentence is getting reduced. They say I’m not doing what I’m supposed to.” 

“And what are you supposed to be doing?” 

Wayne looks at the pictures of Terrence’s family on the shelves behind him. He looked happy. His kids looked young. His hair was more grown out, and a proper fade in the picture. His husband’s skin was lighter than his. He thinks that maybe once he said his husband was mixed, because he was talking about celebrating Lunar New Year with his in-laws. 

“This shit.” 

“What’s ‘this shit’ entail?” 

“Fuckin’ therapy. Participatin’. Bein’ a good person, or whatever.” His thick Massachusetts accent shines when he stresses the word ‘whatever’. 

“So, you know what is part of your program plan to be able to work on in order to appeal to the little court panel. What’s stopping you from doing that? I know we have this conversation a lot.” By that, he means he has brought it up at some point in the session at least three or four times a week. 

“I don’t fuckin’ wanna do it. S’stupid.” Wayne leans back in his seat, looking down at the navy blue jumpsuit he was wearing. “But.” 

Oh, Terrence was making progress. 

“But?” 

“I know I gotta.” For her. He glances at the clock. He had another 35 minutes left. Christ. 

“Why?” Terrence is pushing it. Wayne feels his jaw tighten. 

“For her.” 

Del. 

The last time he saw her, his head was cloudy as was his vision, and one of her brothers was carrying her out of the smashed golden Trans Am. The echoes ring in his head, and subconsciously called out to her in the adrenaline crash he was experiencing. He peeled himself off of the leather seat and collapsed when he opened the car door. Bobby, Carl and Teddy threw him around as if he were a ragdoll. He reaches up and touches the scar on the side of his nostril where Bobby cut him with a knife. The time that passed while he laid on the hot, to cool asphalt with his arm by his side, and the other arm in front of him, clutching the thin golden chain with three letters in cursive on it. 

Del. His free hand tightens into a fist. 

“I know we talked about who her is, but you haven’t told me her name. It must be very painful for you to think about what happened. It sounds like she was really special to you.” 

“She is.” Wayne’s tone is curt as he answers. “Not was. Is.” 

Terrence purses his lip. He hopes his lack of an answer encourages Wayne to continue, but he doesn’t. “What’s her name?” 

“Del.” 

“Del. Is it short for something?” 

“It is. But I don’t call her that. Only her dad and brothers.” 

Terrence knew what happened, he had a copy of the police report and court disposition at his disposal. He only kept them for reference with his clients. He told Wayne that, and that he didn’t know what happened and he wanted to hear it from Wayne, and not people that were involved. Because no one else knew what was going on in his head. Only Wayne. And that it wasn’t fair to Wayne to make assumptions about why he was here, or what he was like. This brought little comfort to Wayne, nor did it change his thoughts about therapy. 

“So, her name is Del. Do we want to talk about what happened?” 

It was a long story. “No.” 

“Do you want to talk about Del?” 

Wayne wanted to. It was all he wanted to do. But he couldn’t, because it was fueling a fire that was going to be difficult to put out. He was trying to be passive. He tried to listen to Torrence. But it was becoming increasingly obvious to everyone, Torrence included, that Wayne McCullough was a hellfire that could burn forever. He wants to say no. His mouth betrays his thoughts. 

“Okay. Share as much, or as little as you want, Wayne. This is your hour.” 

She was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her behind them. Her shoulder length brown hair, the way she pushes her bangs to the side of her face and her hair in a ponytail. She was pretty. He thought she was especially pretty with her hair down and when she slept. He thinks about back at the hotel. He had gotten up in the middle of the night to pee, but the moon crept through the curtains and shone on Del. He did eventually go pee, but he was lost in how peaceful and delicate she looked. The gold hoops in her ears, the way her necklace was so important to her. He spits out the brief monologue she recited to him when they first agreed to date. 

“She doesn’t like flowers. She doesn’t want a Valentine on Valentine’s day. She doesn’t like that romance shit.” 

His eyes sting. Wayne did not have the comfort, or luxury of crying, he thinks. The last time he shed tears was by accident, back at the pizza shop and he ate a handful of chili pepper flakes. He swallows. His spit feels like concrete down his throat. He looks up at the ceiling, away from Torrence. He can see in his peripheral vision that he leans in to listen to him. 

“She’s really pretty.” 

“I bet she is.” Torrence affirms. 

“She likes to read.” 

Silence, while Wayne is stuck with his thoughts. 

“What else does she like to do?” 

“I dunno.” He didn’t know her before the cookies incident, or outside of their road trip together. She liked to read. She went to a stranger’s funeral. She made her dad a drink while he was in the hospital. She was all he had now. “She’s smart. She’s gonna be mayor someday. She’s nice.” Torrence wasn’t complaining. This was as much as Wayne had talked about anything since being here, and his medication for his pain hadn’t been adjusted yet - so he was really, really loopy. He wanted to know her better when he came back. He connected the dots a few weeks ago, that when he was lost in thinking about her face, the glint on her necklace when she wrecked havoc in the gym during the blood drive. 

The way she looked with the crimson fluid splattered all over her face, soaked in her heather grey shirt while everyone screamed in absolute terror. 

He wondered if she thought about him as much as he did. 

“What does it look like to you, when you are released from your detention here?” 

Wayne wants to shrug, but remains motionless. He actually isn’t sure. His dad is gone, has been gone for some time now. So was his house. He didn’t really have anything. Nobody came to visit, or wrote to him. The only people who probably really knew where he was, were Sheriff Gellar and Jay. But, they hadn’t written. Well. Why would they? 

“I dunno.” 

“Can we talk about that, and tomorrow we can talk about what a plan might look like for you?” 

“Okay.” Wayne glances at the clock. 15 minutes left. 

“So, Wayne McCullough gets released.” Terrance shifts in his seat, clicking his pen to write. He never wrote notes. So, this must be important. “Who would you call to come get you?” 

“Nobody.” 

“Nobody?” 

“I dun’ have anyone’s number.” 

Terrence chews on the skin on the inside of his cheek. “I can look into getting you some bus passes, or a Greyhound ticket back home?” 

“Okay.” 

“Does that sound like something that might be helpful to you?” 

“Yeah.” Wayne had never ridden a bus like that before. Or one, at all. He mostly walked, or people had picked him up for rides. 

“Okay. So you get out, and we have your bus passes back to…Brockton, or the closest station there, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Closest station to Brockton. You…told me your dad passed away, and you burned your house down.” Terrence takes a minute to think to remember, but his voice passes no judgement. “And that your mom is still here, around Ocala. Why don’t you want to stay with her?” 

“I thought we were talking about what me gettin’ released looks like.” Wayne’s face grows stony, sharp. No more feelings stuff.

His counselor takes a minute to adjust himself. “You’re right. So, you go back to Massachusetts. Who are you going to stay with?” 

Wayne thinks. Even though Principal Cole came down with Orlando to come get him, he wouldn’t stay with him. Too weird. He didn’t know anyone else. And Orlando was like his best friend, kind of. He thinks he remembers Orlando saying something about his grandma having mad dementia, and she doesn’t really remember anything. Orlando just pays the bills and gets what he needs to. Wayne could stay there. 

“Orlando.” 

“Who’s Orlando?” 

“My friend.” 

“Okay, that’s good. You’d stay with Orlando. Then what? Go back to school?” 

“Get Del back.” 

“I think she would be very happy to see you, Wayne. Is there anything else?” 

“I dunno. Work.” 

“No school? You’re 17 now, right?” His birthday had passed since he was here. He didn’t get to know when Del’s birthday was. He couldn’t even celebrate

“Yeah.” 

“You’d be a junior this coming school year. That’s just in a few weeks now, huh?” 

“I don’t care about school.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each second passing. Wayne’s eyes trail the minute hand of the clock. 

“Would you go get your GED once you got settled, maybe?” 

“Maybe. Dunno.” 

4 minutes left. Wrap up. 

“Well, I think this is a good start, Wayne. When I see you tomorrow, we’ll talk more about the plan, or something else if you don’t feel up to it, okay?” 

Wayne was a sitting pile of dry, dry wood surrounded by dead grass. He had appeased the endless thoughts in his head by trying to distract himself with fights, weight training or attempting to read or paint. But nothing held his attention. Nothing like her. He was a sitting pile of lumber, and Terrence had poured gasoline all over him, and now had lit a match. 

“Okay.” And with that, he had tossed the match into the flame of Wayne McCullough’s fighting spirit. And a fire that burns as bright, and as much as his did, it would be impossible to put it out now. 

#first time posting my fanfiction #please dont bully me #wayne amazon #wayne yt #wayne mccullough #wayne show #del luccetti

[ashitomarisu]

Delicious Party Precure (Final Thoughts)

(Bro, chill).

Now that I have gotten through another Precure season, allow me to share some opinions.

Prior to watching this, my first impression was honestly not too optimistic when it originally aired. Kirakira Precure a la Mode also had a food-related theme, albeit more on desserts than actual cuisine. Nonetheless, I had a quota and this was the most recent completed season available; it was bound to happen.

With 45 episodes, this is another short Precure season (alongside Healin' Good), although it works. The plot basically has our protagonists protecting Recipepes from being stolen by the Bundoru Gang. Exactly what are these "Recipepes"?

(Great. I'm getting Healin' Good vibes again, but without the Furi.)

Answer: These adorable food fairies that are subjected to getting kidnapped in almost every episode. They actually belong to three different groups: rice, noodle, and bread. That's where our fairy mascots come in as the protectors of these groups.

Kome-Kome is the main "marketing" mascot (and Cure Precious's partner) of this season (and ends up being the youngest of the three as the story progresses). Obviously, she doesn't talk much at first until later on when she gains power and eventually gains enough strength to lend a hand with the cures. Of course, this is a fox-like mascot, which I adore.

(Fuck, they named one after my aunt. WTF Toei?)

Then, there's Pam Pam, Cure Spicy's partner. She's my least favorite (and not because she's a pompous ass). The writers did not try hard enough to convince me that she is better than the other two; which sucks because I'm a dog and bread lover. *sad face*

(Crunchyroll, it is prounounced "men" not "mem").

Men-Men is the dragon-like mascot partner for Cure Yum-Yum. This one is quite interesting for saying "WONTON" every time Ran transforms. He's a good boi; in fact, my middle nephew is now in love with him and demands plushies. I quite like the dynamic between the two the most for having that savory connection.

Plus, Men-Men has a cool human form.

------------------------

Now, let's look at the cures:

Yui Nagomi / Cure Precious

The main protag of the four, Yui sure does love eating. Her late grandma was the reason she became so passionate for food (there is a slight backstory explaining this in a later episode). Her family owns a restaurant that houses these...maneki-nekos (I'll come back to this later). She is quite a fighter, delivering a devastating punch (500 kcal, then 1000kcal, and eventually, 2000 kcal power). I did admire her demeanor, being a wonderful leader.

Kokone Fuwa / Cure Spicy

Contrary to her partner, my feelings are the opposite for Kokone. There's something about her that immediately said "YES. THAT'S THE MISSING KICK IN THE MOUTH I'M LOOKING FOR IN A BLUE CURE". She's not Karen Minazuki levels of cool, but still freaking cool and Spicy had great defense that worked well in offense with the BREAD ROLLS.

(Give me a moment to savor the mental warmth that is bread).

WHAT MORE CAN I SAY? Kokone brought some calming traits that I enjoyed and overall class.

(How are you not related to Rin Hoshizora, FFS?!)

Ran Hanamichi / Cure Yum Yum

I've never in my life wanted a yellow cure that brought literal charisma and flaming passion (and I bet there's one before her that I forgot).

Ran oozes so much life, I don't even know if life can handle her. Her dynamic with Men-Men was one joyride down a noodle coaster and into some Lo mein paradise...or General Tso sauce.

All food pun aside, I've had my eye set on her even before watching; I swear she and Rin Hoshizora would make good "Ramen buddies".

As for Yum Yum, noodles as cutters was a clever way to go. I also like the design, even if it feels a bit awkward at times; however, it works for the idea of a traditional Chinese background. Now that I think about it, I don't even know if it was confirmed if Ran was Chinese-Japanese to begin with. (Surely, someone mentioned this in an interview).

(Student council president with diamonds on her head and yet Arisa Komiya was not considered...but I'll take another Ai.)

Amane Kasai / Cure Finale (formerly Gentlu)

OOOHHHHHHHHH. I WANT TO TALK ABOUT AMANE FOR A BIT.

During her villain arc, Gentlu had this aura of a frosted strawberry pop tart: once you warm it up, it tastes great. She was this sad frosted strawberry pop tart left sitting in a wrapper, waiting for someone to open it and put her in a toaster of love.

Once she became Cure Finale, I started having mixed questions about her drastic hair color change. She barely qualifies as a purple cure in design, despite the rest being multicolored. At this point, the rules in Precure are starting to unravel a bit with the color coding.

Unlike Precious, Spicy, and YumYum, Finale has a sweet motif; even Amane has "amai" or "ama" in her name, which means "sweet". It makes sense for someone who works in a sweets parlor.

Side note: her unofficial mascot partner is a parfait Recipepe that acts so ritzy-titzy it's hilarious; only Pam-Pam and Men-Men can understand it.

-------

As for the Bundoru Gang, I felt they were a decent bunch.

Narcistoru and Spiritoru were pretty strong; Secretoru in her civilian form was more entertaining and I wish the writers would have done more of that earlier in the show. Then, there's Godatz, who [spoiler alert prevents me from revealing a lot so this censor is all you're getting].

-----------

Moving on to some other opinions:

The OP is a literal earworm; it feels refreshing to hear a more cheerful, upbeat score.

The next to last episode had one of the most hilarious, absurd climaxes to a final boss fight I, in my opinion, ever witnessed.

The movie was surprisingly good for the most part, although Cait Sith was a hell of a movie villain with a somber backstory. When he went AWOL, I was just speechless.

(The STAPLE of Oishina Town became the deus ex machina and I couldn't keep my composure.)

----------

In the end, yes, Delicious Party Precure, despite my doubts on a food motif, actually impressed me with how it was executed. It surely was more entertaining than Tropical Rouge, but not enticing enough to leave a mark as a favorite. It has some odd moments, but, this is a season involving food and also etiquette; what were you expecting? A five-star lore to come out of it???

Anyways, this is definitely one to check out if you're passionate for food. I would even consider this to be a good starting point if you've never seen Precure at all (alongside Smile, Fresh or Maho Tsukai).

-------

With that being said, thus ends my yearly Precure season quota, even though Otona Precure 23 just started. As for the rest of the year, it has already been decided on the schedule. The Wheel has now finally been put to rest and hope to God I do not use that thing again.

Next month, look forward to me revisiting another anime title I've covered in the past. Perhaps....the most...clusterfuck of crossovers...featuring a familiar white rabbit looking son of a--

#2023 anime watch #delicious party precure #final thoughts #til then here's hoping senpai treats you this Halloween

[placesyoucallhome]

🙅‍♂️what does my muse feel insecure about?

"Mmm, ain't much. No' the things people seem t' try an' make me feel sore about anyways." Ruhka shakes his head, "Bein' a tia, bein' short, how I dress, whether I'm educated, so on an' whatever th' fuck else. An' yeh have to have some certain level of 'don't give a fuck' to be a merchant. Or at least fake it well."

"But," He continues with a sigh, "I've learned how to live with my lack of aetherical abilities, you know? I know what I can an' can't do, what I can if I'm alright with the consequences. I've got my ships I don' need t' use an aetheryte crystal, I've got the best potions gil can buy I don' need yer healin' magic. But people still look at me like I'm off my rocker when I say I can't do shite like that, that a stray cure spell could kill me. Whatever. I don' need 'em, I don't."

(( Still a little part of him that wonders 'what could have been?' if he hadn't gotten fucked up aetherically. It limits him in weird ways, but the worst part about it is other people being weird on top of him having to deal with it. ))

#Q'ruhka #answer #ty! #something something invisible disability bullshit #plenty of things he's been made fun of for tho #most of it he just rolls his eyes at #at least while people are watching

[thelastspeecher]

sorry abt taking forever to request this (life has got me by the scruff of my neck like a kitten) but could I request super tailor au stute fluff? that or the night where Lute discovers that stan is a villain?

As a frame of reference for folks - on the Discord a bit ago we developed a new super AU that we dubbed the Super Tailor AU because it prominently featured Lute McGucket as a tailor with the superpower to control fabric and clothing, and he winds up working as a tailor, particularly for superheroes. Stan eventually becomes an employee of Lute's and they start a romantic relationship, but there's a slight problem: Stan's been a villain this whole time.

Hope you like it, nour!

———————————————————————————————————–

              Lute was awoken by a loud clutter from the kitchen.  He opened his eyes, but opted to remain in bed until he heard something else.  After all, it could just be the cat knocking things over again.

              “Fucking…shit…” Stan’s voice sounded faintly.  Lute groaned and sat up.  He threw his legs over the edge of the bed.

              Lord above, I love the man, but he’s awful fond of testin’ that love, ain’t he?  Wanderin’ home drunk at the witchin’ hour…  Lute’s phone, resting on the bedside table, buzzed.  He picked it up.  It was a text from Angie.

              I know you’re probably asleep, but wait’ll you see what Dan managed to do tonight!  He just got home and couldn’t stop bragging about how he gave Fleshmender what for.  The morning news is going to have a field day.  Lute sent back a thumbs up emoji, then got up and exited the bedroom.  His vision wasn’t great in the dark, but he knew his house well.  Even if he didn’t, he just needed to follow the sounds of Stan bumping into things and swearing.  At the kitchen, he turned on the light.  His jaw dropped.  Stan was partially dressed, but that wasn’t what shocked him.  No, what shocked him were the wounds on Stan’s body, the bruises on his face, and the costume he was in the process of taking off.

              “Uh…”  Stan let go of his costume to hold his hands up plaintively.  “I can explain.”

              “Yer…yer a mask?” Lute croaked.

              “…Surprise?”

              “I’d- I’m tempted to bring up how ya told me you’ve never considered bein’ a hero, but I know that costume.  That ain’t a hero’s costume.”  Lute pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Finish takin’ it off and sit at the table.”

              “Wh- where are you going?” Stan asked.  His words slurred slightly.  Lute winced.

              Sure hope he don’t have a concussion.

              “I’m grabbin’ the first aid kit.”

              “Oh.  Good- good idea,” Stan mumbled.  Lute exited the kitchen and made a beeline for the bathroom, his mind racing.

              Why didn’t I catch on to it sooner?  Without actually seein’ him standin’ in his costume in the kitchen?  Of course he’s Fleshmender!  Lute entered the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit underneath the sink.  Healin’ ain’t a common power.  How did I not connect the dots when I saw a villain with Stan’s power and body type throwin’ down with my sister and her team?

              When Lute came back to the kitchen, Stan was sitting at the table in only his boxers.  He watched Stan place a hand over a particularly large cut on his arm and close his eyes.  Lute waited for the shimmering light that accompanied Stan’s healing ability, but nothing happened.

              “Dammit,” Stan muttered.  Lute walked over to the table and sat next to his boyfriend.

              “I’ve never seen ya fail to heal yourself,” Lute remarked, opening up the first aid kit.

              “Happens when I use it too much,” Stan said with a shrug.  To Lute’s relief, he wasn’t slurring anymore.  “Gotta recharge or whatever, y’know?”

              No, I don’t.  Ya don’t talk ‘bout the mechanics behind yer power much.  We’ve been datin’ fer ages and ya still keep so much from me.

              “Well, I can at least patch ya up so’s ya stop bleedin’ all over the kitchen until yer charged enough to heal,” Lute said briskly, deciding to be as businesslike as possible to keep his mind from racing.  “Hold out yer arm.”  Stan did as he was told.  Lute got to work dabbing the cuts with disinfectant.  Stan let out a hiss.  “Somethin’ wrong?”

              “Is that supposed to hurt?  What even is that?” Stan asked.  Lute stared at him.

              “It’s- it’s hydrogen peroxide.  And yeah, it’s s’pposed to hurt.”

              “Why?”

              “Well, puttin’ things on open wounds usually hurts.”  Lute set down the cotton ball to frown at his boyfriend.  “Ya don’t know this?”

              “I haven’t run out of enough juice to heal myself since I was a teenager,” Stan replied.  “And since my power showed up, I’ve made sure I take care of cuts first.  Bruises can wait, bleeding can’t.”

              “When did yer power manifest?”

              “Ten.”

              “Yer almost thirty.”

              “And?”

              “You haven’t had a cut what didn’t heal right away in two decades?”

              “Yeah.”

              “Lord above,” Lute mumbled.  He began to bandage the largest of Stan’s cuts.  “I’d ask what exactly happened to put ya in a state where ya ‘ran out of juice’ just to heal yourself up this much, but I already know.”

              “You do?”

              “Got a text from Angie sayin’ her husband beat the tar out of Fleshmender.”  Lute glanced over at the costume laying on the floor.  “I might not be a mask like m’ sister, but I can recognize the outfit of one of her enemies.”

              “…Great,” Stan mumbled.  He pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Look, Lute-”

              “Why didn’t ya tell me?” Lute interrupted.

              “Why do you think, Gucket?  You literally make costumes for heroes!  Your twin sister and her husband are heroes!  You’re so wrapped up in the hero world, I-”  Stan looked away.  “I knew you’d break up with me the second you found out I fight for the baddies.”

              “Now, ya can’t know somethin’ like that fer sure,” Lute scolded.  Stan looked back at him.  “Ya never know fer a fact how someone will respond to somethin’, no matter how well ya know ‘em.”  Lute gently patted Stan’s arm.  “Yer other one now.”  Stan silently held out his other arm for Lute to treat.

              “Are you gonna turn me in?” Stan asked softly.  Lute shook his head.  “Really?”

              “Stanley, we’ll need to have a lot of conversations ‘bout this to figure out where we go from here,” Lute said tiredly.  “In the mornin’, of course.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan warily watched Lute.  “You’re waiting until after we talk to call the cops, then?”

              “No.  I ain’t a snitch.  Worst thing I can see resultin’ from our chats is us breakin’ up.”  Lute’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.  He heard Stan’s breath hitch in his throat and knew they both didn’t want that to happen.  “Best thing is that ya quit bein’ a mask or even join Angie’s hero team.”

              “Not in a million years,” Stan said under his breath.

              “I figure what’ll happen is somethin’ in the middle.  I don’t know fer sure, but that’s my prediction.”

              “Why are you being so damn calm?” Stan suddenly burst out.  Lute paused.  “You just found out I’m the same criminal that broke your twin sister’s nose last month!”

              “And when she came over fer me to repair her costume, ya healed it up fer her without her even askin’.”

              “All the girlfriends and boyfriends I’ve had before, their families hated me.  Yours actually likes me.  Sue me for wanting to keep it going.”

              “Sure, that’s the only reason ya did it,” Lute said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.  “Couldn’t have anything to do with ya actually likin’ her.”  He resumed tending to Stan’s wounds.  “To be honest, I’m not freakin’ out ‘cause it’s two in the mornin’.  Nothin’ good happens after two in the mornin’, so my goal is to get back to bed as soon as possible ‘fore I do somethin’ I regret.  And…”  Lute sighed.  “Stanley, I love ya.  I ain’t goin’ to lose my shit on ya when yer injured like this.  Ain’t right to kick someone while they’re down.”

              “I guess…”

              “Until we have our conversations and come to a decision together, though, I’ll request that ya stay away from my sister, her husband, and their daughter,” Lute said tartly.  “And ya can’t work on hero costumes in the shop.”

              “That’s fair.”

              “And yer sleepin’ on the couch.  Sorry.”

              “Honestly, when you showed up I thought I would be spending the night on the street.  I’ve got no problem taking the couch.”

              “Good.”  Lute gathered the debris from the various items in the first aid kit and tossed it into the trash.  He picked the kit up.  “Ya can go sleep now.  I’ll speak with ya in the mornin’.”  A pained look that had nothing to do with his injuries flashed across Stan’s face.  Lute knew just why.  They always kissed before bed.

              But I can’t kiss him.  Not now.  Lute left the kitchen, Stan still staring after him.  He dropped off the first aid kit in the bathroom and went back to the bedroom.  As he sat on the bed, his phone buzzed again.  He picked it up.  It was another text from Angie.

              You and Stan can still babysit Wendy today, right?  Lute’s chest ached.  He adored spending time with his niece, as did Stan.  The feeling was mutual; Wendy said constantly that Stan and Lute were her favorite uncles.  He replied with a heavy heart.

              No, sorry, something came up.  The response came back quickly.

              Oh.  OK.  I can ask someone else, then.  Another text made Lute’s phone squirm in his hands.  What are you doing up so late?  Go to bed!  Lute managed a weak smile.

              Only if you go to bed, too.

              Ugh.  Fine.  Night.

              Night.

              Lute set his phone back on the bedside table and laid down, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness.  Falling asleep without the white noise from Stan’s snoring was hard enough.  Falling asleep, knowing Stan was snoring in a whole other room, was somehow worse.

              Lute closed his eyes, but as he’d worried, sleep came slowly.

#Stute AUs are always fun but then it leaves me the task of deciding what to do with Angie lmao #(I think I was able to showcase what Angie's up to in this AU tho) #and yes! everyone has different powers than usual for my super AUs! #Superhero AU #Stute #Lute McGucket #Stanley Pines #my writing #ask #nour386

[running-in-blind]

"Hey, doofus, you cost us the battle. Again." Marlon threw his broken Medigun to the ground and stomped over to Sean. "I thought you said you had the briefcase, dweeb! The other team was even short a Medic!" Marlon, of course, had been busy getting his ass kicked soundly until he stopped trying to fight and just stuck to pocketing the Heavy. Not that he hadn't given plenty of BLUs a reason for a serious of tetanus shots. Nothing like a rusty bone saw to really fuck up a man's day. "Come on, bro. Get your freaking head in the game!" Of course, he probably didn't have much room to talk... He'd been horribly distracted from battle since his dad went missing...

"Get off my ass, dickweed! It's hard getting in ta their intel when I'm not gettin' a lick of healin from any of you lab coated dorks. 'sides, how the fuck am I supposed t' get in and outta there when they have like.... 500 sentries?!" Sean snapped back, clearly way more irritable than usual, not standing for taking all the blame for this.

"If you had just built up your fancy smancy uber and ubered a soldier or hell maybe even a demo to take out the sentries instead of having your gun glued to the Heavies ass, we could have scored more and won the match!" He said, jabbing a finger into the others chest in response "and what about you, huh? You aren't one to talk, with ya walkin' inta all those painfully obvious sticky traps or ubering the painfully fucking obvious enemy spy?"

[demonprincezeldris]

Elizabeth's eyes widened as the demon finally properly came into view. The demon... wasn't what she expected at all.

He was humanoid and... small. So small in fact that if she hadn't known better she would have mistaken him for a child and he had wild blond hair that went down into messy spikes almost down to the tips of his shoulders.

She couldn't see his eyes, they were hidden behind the black coloration that all demon eyes take on when they tap into their dark powers much in the same way many goddesses' eyes changes when they tap into their own divine light, but she didn't need to see then to know who this was.

The mark on his forehead told a million words on the matter. The crest of the Royal Family of the Demon Clan, a mark born by only one demon within the entire clan's army. Meliodas the Destroyer, First Prince of the Demon Clan.

This is why he had taunted her so, Elizabeth realized in growing horror, by assisting him she truly would be  commiting a grave sin, treason even! Meliodas the Destroyer is the very creature that has brought so many injured to her clinic countless times in unhealable wounds, who's power was so great her mother had determined a beast to be fled from or, in the case of the Arch Angels, put down upon sight.

"What's wrong?" The demon prince sneered, "Didn't you say you were gonna help? Or are you gonna run away like a coward now that ya see me."

Elizabeth glared at the demon, suddenly all too aware of her position. She wasn't just in the presence of a Demon, she was in the presence of the single most dangerous demon in the world. As a mere healer, she would be unable to stop him if he were to choose to attack.

"I never go back on my word," she stated, "I simply wasn't expecting my patient to be the crowned prince of the demon race. Wouldn't you have your own healers and mages to tend your wounds back in the demon realm!? Why hide out here?"

"That's none of your business, Goddess. Just do what you claim to be here for and get on with it." Came the prince's retort. Elizabeth blinked, was it her or was there a spark of fear in his eyes? Taking a closer observation, she noticed that under the now absolutely filthy and ripped up white coat, the Demon really wasn't doing well. He was thin, very thin, and covered in burn marks and injuries. The worst, as he stated, was the now thoroughly infected arm. Approaching carefully, Elizabeth knelt down, looking the demon in the eye sternly,

"For me to get a proper analysis of your wounds I'll need you to work with me. That will require you to be willing to be open about things like your pain level, injuries, and not trying to hide or push me away when you feel vulnerable. Will you be able to do that?"

"The fuck do you mean!?"

"I am a Goddess, your natural enemy. Your instincts will want you to hide any weakness from me, but for me to help you properly you cannot do that. Can you promise me that you will at least attempt to be cooperative in my inspection and treatment of your injuries?"

Meliodas remained silent for a long time, just staring at her. Elizabeth had no way of knowing this at the time, but what she had asked was probably the most difficult thing for Meliodas' mind to grasp, so used to having to hide any and all injury or weakness from anyone other than his brother. Eventually he gave a grimace as he looked away from her, grumbling,

"Just get it over with."

Meliodas was still as she approached him, looking at his wound now that he was out of the den. The wounds were deep, dried blood caking his skin. It wouldn't be too much longer before it would get infected. And Elizabeth was a Goddess, so her healing Ark would only hurt him rather than heal him.

She would have to go for the basics to heal it. She grabbed some supplies out of her satchel beside her and quickly got to work, watching Meliodas carefully for any signs of attack.

He growled as the water was poured on his wounds, cleansing the dried blood from his skin. She gently dabbed some healing salve as well onto the wounds, and wrapped it up with a bandage. After a few moments she stepped back, looking at his now-cleaned wound.

"I don't want you doing any strenuous activities for at least a few days while that salve works on your wounds," Elizabeth explained. Meliodas sneered at her as he shuffled back a ways to face her properly. "Wasn't planning on it, Goddess. I haven't been able to do anything strenuous because of this wound."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, continuing with her instructions. "Allow the wound to air dry every night while you sleep, and in the morning you can re-salve the wound and wrap it with the cloths that I have given to you."

"What about food?" Meliodas inquired. "You can't expect me to not do any strenuous activities. Hunting is considered a strenuous activity. And we demons need meat almost daily, whether raw or cooked, in order to gain energy and strength. You can't expect me to pick berries and plants for the next few days and expect to survive on that only?"

Elizabeth frowned. He did have a point.

#Melizabeth #Healer Liz AU

[bunnboi]

"...Yeah that's fair but Theo, affectionately, is fucked up."

Mentally or physically, because you're gonna have to be specific now...

Both now. But he's healin, so.