#we need more jazz content

[ciircex]

[ . . . ]

#I need someone to stop me #I've been thinking && I've been getting a lot of Alastor content #And my brain is like ... we can write him #&& it's like BITCH WE CANNOT EVEN KEEP UP WITH OUR CURRENT DRAFTS #POOR ANGEL IS SHOVED OFF TO THE SIDE TILL I GET CAUGHT UP. #TF YOU MEAN YOU WANT AN OVERLORD AS WELL #I don't think Circe would allow it tho #Power dynamics && all that jazz #She'd feel threatened™ #Anyway tonight I'm going to write more starters && post a permanent starter call.

[labs]

Communities closed beta is here

Hello again! We’re back with an update on Communities, a big idea we had last year that we’ve been working on steadily since then. We’re abnormally jazzed to announce that we’re beginning a “closed beta” phase of this new feature, which means many of you will get to play with it soon!

We want to build this whole thing together, with as much input from all of you as possible. We’ve read and re-read the feedback from our previous post, and we’ve been surveying and interviewing people about this idea for a few months now. But it’s time to open this up even more for hands-on testing.

We’ve already begun reaching out to most of you who interacted with our previous post, as promised, with a survey asking whether you’d be interested in helping (check your email!). Over the next couple of weeks, we’ll be using the results of that survey to narrow down who we’d like to help test Communities in these initial batches.

The process is looking a bit like this:

If you received a Communities survey email to your registered Tumblr email address, fill it out! If you’re interested in helping us in this beta test period, that’s your way of potentially getting early access. If you did not receive an email with the Communities survey, don’t fret! Communities will be rolling out to more people as we expand our testing. 

We’ll go through the results and choose a diverse range of community ideas to gather a wide array of feedback.

Selected testers will receive a second survey with more detailed questions about their proposed community. Very practical stuff, like the name, title, and description, whether it should be public or private, the About page contents, its own community guidelines, and more.

We will create the new Tumblr community on your behalf using the information supplied. We’re building the tools that will let people create and edit communities themselves, so eventually you’ll be able to change them without needing our help. But for now, we’re creating and editing them for you, as needed.

After we’ve created the community, you’ll be made its first admin. Everything from here on out is up to you – Tumblr staff won’t be in your community (unless you invite us, of course). You’ll be able to invite anyone on Tumblr to your community. However, your community will have a population cap to start, limiting how many people can be in it and invited, as a way of keeping this beta test somewhat contained and manageable for us. We’ll be able to raise that population cap for communities that are growing and if we want to test further in that direction.

And throughout, we’ll be asking for feedback, both in some special communities for everyone in the closed beta, and via more surveys and the Support tickets we receive.

This closed beta version of Communities is far from finished, and that’s part of the reason we want to start opening it up to more of you for feedback. There are a lot of rough edges and known issues, but we think it’s far enough along that it’s usable enough for testing. We need feedback in order to feel like we’re building the right thing.

The very first public community is called “Communities Feedback” for this reason! We want everyone helping us test out communities to tell us about it, so people in this closed beta will be in there by default. We want to use that space to be more public and real-time about new pieces we’re building, bugs we’re fixing, things we know are broken, and answers to common questions. There is an additional, private community for community admins, to help shape how administrating and moderating these spaces will work. And if you don’t want to use those spaces, you can always use the “Feedback” category in our Support form.

Stay tuned for more, and keep an eye on that Communities Feedback space if you’d like to see how things are changing over time.

#communities #tumblr labs

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Okay, so vampire Eddie is a pretty standard trope at this point, but may I offer...Twilight vampire Eddie who is absolutely pissed off about his sparkly existence?

Eddie actually isn't that old, he was turned in the 80s when he was around 20. He lives with his small and not only vampire family. There's patriarch Wayne, his partner Scott who always becomes a teacher no matter where they move, Claudia Henderson and her son that have been with them ever since Scott noticed Dustin being unusually quiet in his class and soon after, Wayne kicked out his abusive father.

The problem with living with a smart man who loves educating people and a man who never received the education he deserved is - they take school really, really seriously. Whenever they move, Eddie usually has to re-join high school, it's all "just so that you have some socialization! Also we need to be able to blend in, so look around and see what's normal with young people! Also I'm pretty sure some of the stuff we know is now obsolete or disproven, so make sure to tell us!". And Eddie loves Wayne and Scott, he really does, but he had trouble blending in even when he was alive, so now? Impossible. As for gathering information, Eddie has been trying for decades to explain to Wayne that even if becoming a vampire healed the wounds from the lynching mob, it didn't do shit for his ADHD, so there. Wayne finds Eddie banging his head into a desk one day and chanting "WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-TIK-TOK?!"

So yes, Eddie hates being a forever highschooler, but it also means he can run DnD clubs everywhere he joins and he's not even lynched for it like in the 80s, so hey, progress! He gets mostly content with his existence, except that he's fucking sparkly and can't turn into a bat, so what's the point?!

But then a huge group of people moves from the close town of Hawkins, they had a really fucked up earthquake - Wayne told him all about it, he often volunteered in rescue and high risk works, and he's never seen anything like it - and their little town becomes way more crowded. There are high school freshmen just begging to be introduced to his club, Hellfire, although one of them is scary observant and Eddie is really sure that Jane knows he's a vampire.

And then there's Steve Harrington. A young man with the prettiest hair ever who joined Eddie's class, apparently he needs to repeat the last year too because if your school burns down, you can't take final exams. He's stupidly pretty, snarky, bitchy, and even though he could be partying day and night and spending the rest of his time on dates, he prefers to hang around with the freshmen. Lucas tells him one day that Steve got badly hurt when he was digging through the collapsed middle school, finding and rescuing their whole group, and well...Eddie respects that. Dustin absolutely loves Steve and maybe Eddie feels a bit jealous, but he has to admit - the guy is cool.

The problem with Steve Harrington is this - he's seen so much shit that nothing really fazes him. Eddie loves shocking people. Steve is unshockable. It becomes their little game, they get close, Eddie realizes he has an embarrassing crush, all that jazz. He tries dropping hints, he slurps his bloody lunch from a bottle that has a "THIS IS DEFINITELY TOMATO JUICE AND NOTHING ELSE". He wears a cape. He adopts a horrible Dracula accent. Nothing works. Steve always just laughs and tells him that he's weird and that's why he likes him.

Finally, Eddie has enough. They walk in the woods to get high, Eddie decides to break the ice, he scoops up Steve, does his whole dashing-through-the-woods thing, and he hopes that he can finally share his secret with Steve.

Except Steve just pats his back and says "Wow, that was cool, man! You'd be amazing at track. Great core strength too," and Eddie's head implodes.

"Okay, Steve. Don't you think there's something rotten here?" he tries.

"I mean, it's the woods. Of course there's something rotting all the time."

Eddie tries again. "You've noticed something strange, haven't you. I'm inhumanly fast and strong."

"I sure didn't expect that! You must be secretly training. I didn't know this town had a gym."

Again. "My skin is pale white and ice cold."

Steve is watching a nearby squirrel instead of looking horrified. "Yeah, not all people tan great, Robin is like that too. And I told you, man. Your circulation is shit, you need better socks and some gloves too."

"My eyes change color."

"Yeah, I know, I do envy you that you can wear those cool contact lenses. My eyes are too dry for that."

Eddie is growing desperate, he's gesturing at the trees because Steve doesn't listen. "I speak like I'm from a different time."

"80s slashers will do that to you. You basically live on those. But I gotta admit that they're pretty fun. Oh look, she's got an acorn! Clever girl!"

"Very clever. Also I never eat or drink anything."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Some people prefer one or two meals in a day instead of the whole five meal thing."

Eddie feels like howling and he isn't even a werewolf. "I. DON'T. GO. INTO. THE. SUNLIGHT."

Steve's eyes finally leave the squirrel. "Duh. We've already established you can't tan."

And Eddie's had enough. He tears off his t-shirt, marches directly into the sunlight and throws the biggest tantrum of his life. "STEVEN HARRINGTON. PAY ATTENTION. I am 20. I have been 20 for a while now. You know what I am, right? I am a vampire. So ask me the question, what do we eat? That wasn't a fucking tomato juice Steven!!!"

Steve just watches him with quiet amusement, as if he's waiting for something.

Eddie doesn't notice. His monologue is reaching its most dramatic part. "I've killed people before! I'm the world's most dangerous predator!"

Steve snorts. "I saw you trip over your own feet in the cafeteria."

"Not the point!"

"You told a waitress "you too" when she told you to enjoy your meal."

Eddie actually howls now. "THE POINT IS." He spins in the sunlight and sees the reflections of light off his skin. "I wouldn't have minded becoming a vampire, but let me tell you. Being stuck in high school forever? Sucks. Craving chips and throwing them up whenever you try them? SUCKS. And thinking you've become the legendary creature of the night when you're a glorified glitter mascot?! And you can't even fly?! DOUBLE SUCKS."

He points at his bare glittering chest. "THIS THE SKIN OF A FUCKING DISCO BALL, STEVE!"

Steve just laughs and gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on. "Thanks for sharing. I was kinda hoping you'd finally ask me out since this is the first time we've had some privacy, but this was interesting too."

Eddie's sharing mania suddenly stops. He realizes he's shirtless in the middle of the forest, and his yelling has scared off the squirrel. He promptly grabs his shirt and puts in on. "Um. You...you wanted me to ask you out? Because I totally want to do that. Yep. But I thought it would have been unfair to ask you before I told you-"

"That you're a vampire? Dude, I know."

Eddie blinks once. Then again. "Excusemewhat?"

Steve smiles at him and touches his hand. "Look. After what happened in Hawkins, I know the smell of blood. I knew it wasn't tomato juice. Also I've accompanied the kids to enough monster flicks to know."

"Oh." Eddie licks his lips and doesn't really know what to say. "Um. What...does that mean for us?"

Laughing, Steve grabs his other hand too. "Definitely two things. One - you can and should kiss me. Two - you can stop wearing that cape. I got your point."

"Oh okay. Cool. Will do. Both."

And since Eddie Munson is a vampire of his word, he does.

(Wayne is absolutely delighted that Eddie is dating, he watches sports with Steve and discusses the pros and cons of Steve becoming a paramedic. Scott helps Steve with some of the subjects he's struggling with. In return, Steve works with Robin to find a makeup brand that is fully sparkleproof, giving the vampires a chance to walk in the sunlight again. And sometimes, he helps them answer the questions that have been plaguing the Munson-Clarke-Henderson household for years...such as: what is TikTok?)

(oh and also. Turns out Steve really thought Eddie was wearing creepy contact lenses. That one aspect of vampyrism he found very cool)

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #twilight au #look I have no excuse #vampire eddie munson #discoball eddie munson

[orchidyoonkook]

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino  

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word. 

Intimate. That would be a better choice. 

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering. 

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony. 

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy. 

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts. 

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go. 

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between. 

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company. 

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight. 

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off. 

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges. 

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter. 

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot. 

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are. 

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back. 

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses. 

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up. 

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.” 

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty. 

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is. 

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck. 

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself. 

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.” 

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night. 

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung! 

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing. 

You just lost all your tips for the night. 

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it. 

Fuck. 

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet. 

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know. 

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’ 

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it. 

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass. 

No one serves him but you. 

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you. 

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year. 

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath. 

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.  

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,”  he responded. 

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased. 

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you. 

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it. 

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink. 

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself. 

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.” 

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.” 

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” 

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.” 

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation. 

No one calls the Devil by his first name. 

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to. 

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives. 

No one except you. 

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is. 

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that. 

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in. 

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night. 

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker… 

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up. 

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath. 

The King of Hell. 

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end. 

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon. 

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging. 

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers. 

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully. 

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity. 

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive. 

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again. 

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well. 

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while. 

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was. 

And maybe he is. 

But not to you. 

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow. 

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him. 

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world. 

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you. 

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find. 

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos. 

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside. 

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor. 

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding. 

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system. 

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth. 

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing. 

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer. 

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.” 

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target. 

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own. 

Yoongi. 

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself. 

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real. 

And he looks like sin incarnate. 

Fitting. 

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you. 

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on. 

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved. 

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you. 

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises. 

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night. 

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse. 

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him. 

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”  

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate. 

“Yes.” 

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body. 

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.” 

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now. 

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening. 

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you. 

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant. 

Beautiful. 

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says. 

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you. 

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers. 

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you. 

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring. 

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear. 

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait— 

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse. 

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” 

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly. 

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’. 

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him. 

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides. 

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it. 

You’ve decided. 

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power. 

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years. 

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back. 

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club. 

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait. 

And apparently neither does Yoongi. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate. 

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil. 

You trust Yoongi. 

“That's a good girl.” 

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft. 

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people? 

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on. 

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get. 

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight. 

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent. 

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea. 

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh. 

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off. 

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?” 

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs. 

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you. 

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.” 

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. 

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge. 

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look. 

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded. 

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter. 

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip. 

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue. 

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.” 

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?” 

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get. 

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it. 

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt. 

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines. 

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before. 

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip. 

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him. 

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it. 

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.” 

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures. 

You’re the most powerful person here. 

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible. 

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know. 

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact. 

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets. 

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace. 

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them. 

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you. 

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else. 

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal. 

Perfect in every single way. 

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too. 

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back. 

Not yet. 

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling. 

Ever.  

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more. 

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence. 

There was only you. 

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows. 

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming. 

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance. 

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white. 

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need. 

It’s yours. 

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze. 

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented. 

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?” 

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?” 

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before. 

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. 

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.” 

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.” 

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him. 

You just know it. 

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless. 

You never expected anything like that. 

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years. 

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better. 

Because of you.  

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that. 

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly. 

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell. 

He was yours now. 

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.  

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

#yoongi #min yoongi #suga #min suga #agust d #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts min suga #yoongi x oc #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x you #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi smut #min yoongi angst #min yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi au #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi scenarios #bts imagine #yoongi imagine #bts smut #bts x fem!reader

[neoyi]

Okay, cool. I can finally talk about the absolute catharsis I felt after fifteen years hoping - dreaming - of this moment because holy SHIT, they did it. They goddamn DID IT.

VLAD GOT HIS REDEMPTION ARC.

Let's talk about it...

By the end of the third season, Vlad Masters had ostracized the entire planet by exposing his true self (why), demanding money and total command of Earth, and completely wailing on Jack Fenton, driving away the only member of that family who unequivocally adored the man where every other Fenton knew him for who he truly was: utterly despicable and incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

Because, after all, he is a villain and that's just what villains do. Villains want power. Villains want to rule the world. There need not be more than that, and in another show, there wouldn't have to be. As far as Hartman was concerned, there is only a binary Good vs. Evil.

You would be hard-pressed to view the Vlad in "Phantom Planet" as the same man who anguished in desperate madness when his perfect clone son died in his arms. That was a Vlad who, by that point, had taken his biggest gamble and lost. I guess one could see his reasoning in season three as a "fuck it all, what even is the point" mode. But while "Eye For an Eye" (tellingly, the last major script helm by former main story writer Steve Marmel... just saying) promised a personal conflict, by the end of the show, he's made it much more external, far greater than what he and Danny's interwoven plot originally started off as.

Vlad is pathetic. Vlad is narcissistic. He is egotistical, entitled; a bitter, arrogant man who lives in his dream castle with all the money and privilege in the world that would leave him content a hundred times over, and it's still not enough.

Money is not Maddie Fenton, the woman he loves. Money is not Jazz, a child that should have been his. Money is not Jack's friendship whom he denies severely, the only part of his life who willingly embraces him. And money is not Danny, who is a half-ghost like him, and by all rights, should have been his son.

No one else could ever understand to the fullest extent of their uniqueness than Vlad and Danny would to each other, and the latter, for the longest time, hated that. Hated the way Vlad talked down to him and manipulated him, hated the whispers into his ears with promises of grand power if he just joined the billionaire's side and become his ward, hated when he caved in just once in front of Vlad's eyes who responded with a smug "See, I know you" reaction. Danny was fortunate to have good moral compasses from his family and friends, but the thing is, though, it's not about the healthy support structure he had, because Vlad had the chance to get some, too. Jack and Maddie loved Danny no matter what he was, and dollars to donuts, they would have for Vlad if the latter had approached them with his problems.

But he chose instead to be bitter and miserable, taking it out on everyone and expecting them to fall into his train of thought. The show knew what he did was wrong, but until season three, never stopped repeating his truest desire: to find love and squash his crushing loneliness.

Hartman couldn't provide a damn on what exactly was Vlad's "destiny" in "Infinite Realm"; it was vague gesturing to excuse his villainy. He was more than happy to abandon the life he's made for himself and the woman he loved in spite of two decades of planning, all on a whim for whatever time period the Infi-map was willing to take him, hoping maybe this one will give him the unconditional worship that he thinks he's deserved (by force, of course.)

Because he's the villain.

And for the longest time, the show ended with the idea that Vlad deserved to be stranded, away from people, because he simply could not help himself. To be fair, there is a lesson in that - some people genuinely DO go so far that there really is nothing more we can do other than stop the problem before they cause any further harm. I'm not denouncing that.

What I AM denouncing is the the narrative plant that's dug its way into the greater plot where an older Vlad in "The Ultimate Enemy", realized what a fool he had been. What he wouldn't give to start all over and be a better person. You don't just give someone a sympathetic goal like "looking for love", constantly provide the necessary stepping stones, and not have it set up for something far more substantial than what we got.

And even then, even if it still ended with Vlad being too far gone, I wonder, should the supposedly original plot arc for season three had been made, would Vlad's fate there been far more appropriate than whatever cartoonish supervillainy he ended up as by the time "Phantom Planet" ended?

I cannot speak for Gabriela Epstein. I cannot say how much Nickelodeon allowed her to tinker with the DP world. All of this is presumptuous speculation on my part, but this entire comic feels like they looked at season three, particularly "Phantom Planet", realized what a travesty that was, had their work cut out for it, and went about to make a post-series finale story that still paid tribute to its ending while wiping it off the map.

Vlad's redemption is the crux.

Within just a few panels, Gabriela Epstein provided an explanation on the why of Vlad's actions circa-season three. The Infi-Map was aimless because Vlad's purpose was aimless. And Vlad's purpose was aimless because his need to be in control was a manifestation of his greatest fear: being alone.

"A Glitch in Time" recontexualizes why Vlad traveled across time in "Infinite Realm." It wasn't a generic bad-guy-wants-to-rule-the-world-through-latest-plot-claptrap, but an act of utter desperation from a man who had since lost the biggest connection to his very being: Danny.

It started with Maddie (someone whom Vlad only interacts once in the comic, but is an acknowledgement of his villainous origin, nonetheless), and it may still end with Danny.

Never, in a million, billion years, have I even thought about another redemption arc... for Dark Danny.

And I am kicking myself for not even considering such an option. I had pegged him so far gone, so far past the breaking point to think otherwise. Dark Danny was suppose to be the outcome of a Danny at his literal worst: a too-late, too-little scenario. Back then, it was a symbol of Danny's rejection of what Vlad expected and desired of him.

But the comic made me sit down and think about the implication of Dark Danny's very existence, that of a man who lost his family and friends ten years ago as a child. Like Vlad, he, too was alone, and had carried a tremendous amount of pain and anguish that his human half just could not bear.

Yeah, they died because of a time loop HE created, but that doesn't erase that he was born from a horrible trauma that he could not properly cope with. And Vlad, try as he might, did not fix it. All he ended up doing was separate a ghost - infamous for their obsessions, and now, as the comic established, a carrier of human emotions - to exist. And Dark Danny carried so much raw emotion that he retaliated very, very violently.

Everyone's respond at that time was to fight him and stuff him in a Fenton Thermos for eternity. I am not saying Danny wasn't justified in fighting his darker self because the dude legitimately caused massive damage and likely murdered a hell of a lot of people, I am just saying Dark Danny is the byproduct of a scared, lonely, traumatized child.

And what does he do? He tries to take what he thinks is his by any means necessary. Vlad got his wish, he got the son he wanted.

And he's facing him now.

And he gets it.

He finally fucking GETS IT.

Which shouldn't have been a surprise because his "The Ultimate Enemy" counterpart got it. He looked at the devil that he created and lingered as a hermit in regret. And now Vlad - Vlad Prime - reacted the same.

Only this time, he can fix it.

I did not anticipate that Vlad's redemption would happen at the same time as Dark Danny's. I didn't expect the two of them to link other than the latter being another number in Vlad's bullshit entitlement count.

I love that it isn't Danny who heals him, but Vlad. It had to be Vlad. In order to own up to his actions, Vlad had to look at the eyes of the boy he was entrusted and corrupted beforehand and apologize for what he put him through. And I don't mean just "The Ultimate Enemy", Vlad is apologizing for everything he's done up to this point.

He (temporarily) sacrifices his body to stabilize Dark Danny who has fucked up the time stream so much that he wouldn't be able to exist otherwise. And only then do the two of them get what they've longed for.

Vlad gets a son.

Dark Danny gets a family.

Holy forking shirt balls.

I have a lot of problems with alternate counterparts sticking around longer than they should in the "main" setting of a show. Usually I'm fine when it's an alternate counterpart demonstrated as someone the hero is trying so hard not to be, because it's compelling to see what could have been under different circumstances. It's another thing when you have another version of the main character running around doing their own thing. Multiverse characters are inherently messy just by existing, but it gets worse when they take away from the uniqueness of the central protagonist.

There's something awkward about two Danny Phantoms living in the same world, and in any other scenario, I would have hated it. But Dark Danny is of a vastly different background brought forth from a long, nuanced, engaging history between him and Vlad.

Danny's central journey - the cusp of the show - has always been the Spider-Man mantra, "great powers = great responsibilities." You are in charge of how you carry the burden of your powers. Vlad has been the one constant always challenging and belittling his selflessness. "A Glitch in Time" had Danny asking himself, what is his purpose? Who is he now that everything has been neatly wrapped up?

Writing anything about who Danny is means Vlad is presented in some way, shape, or form. They are so thoroughly linked to each other, and it's that link that simultaneously serve to push their own individual character arc, and their relationship with each other.

So, Vlad gets a son. Dark Danny gets a family. They get a second chance, and it is up to them to work it out. I have no idea if Vlad got his wealth back. Everything is restored as is, except Danny's secret identity is secured again (which I am 100% fine with except for one notable exception, but that's another topic for another day) and implication that Vlad was just a crummy mayor with no indication the greater public is also aware of his Plasimus mode (which I am also fine with.)

There's a part of me who thinks he should have lost the money and power he's accumulated because he gained them through his vice, but if he's back in his Wisconsin cheese castle, then he can damn well use the money he has to not only benefit the world (charities, improving human lives, funding Fenton Works ;D...), but to raise his son.

Dark Danny is going to have to adjust to the idea that his father is Vlad, something he was already expected to do so when he orphaned himself and moved in with him. But it's Vlad who has to work the most out of the two: as a parental figure - as an adult - he's always had a power over Danny regardless of what timeline they're in. Most of the time, he's abused it heavily.

The second chance Vlad has been given here means he has the ability to provide a safe, healthy environment. It's more than he deserves. He failed with Danny and he absolutely failed with Dani (another can of worms in itself; she's not mentioned in the comic, and I imagine it's because her story would need a comic of her own), he cannot fail with this Danny.

Vlad shouldn't have been given a child at all until there was a guarantee that he could work through his bullshit, but Dark Danny is a special case. He is a kid who needs a home and someone to love him unconditionally, and Vlad needs to learn boundaries while giving selfless love in order to be loved himself.

Clockwork gave Vlad a test, so get studying, dude.

This does not erase how Danny Prime feels about him. He may never want to forgive Vlad, and that's his right. He can acknowledge however, that, in order to help those in need of healing, a door can be opened, even if slightly ajar.

For Vlad, that may just take a bit longer and that's completely understandable.

Vlad can't have the kind of relationship he wants with this Danny, but maybe one day, they can be equals - friends.

Like christ, I think this is the first time Vlad has actually, genuinely asked if Danny was alright.

The comic was already good prior to this, but just knowing - understanding that Vlad was more than "a villain" - meant after fifteen looooong years, we finally see the promises of a brighter future for a man with shitty priorities, but a sympathetic goal.

"It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it..."

#danny phantom #vlad masters #neoyi talks #comics #a glitch in time #a glitch in time spoilers #yeah this one im tagging #this essay is over a 1000 words it's pathetic

[chocsra]

✧ "YOU CLING TO YOUR PAPERS AND PENS;

(wait until you like me again)"

☆ synopsis ↺: your ex, chuuya nakahara drunk calls you, only to realise you're all he ever wants. (based off arianas song: we can't be friends (wait until you like me again)

☆ content ↺: angst, slight stormbringer spoilers, swearing

Haunted - (of a place) frequented by a ghost.

—You were no ghost, Chuuya knew that. But in the rise of the sun, and awakening of the moon, he was haunted.

No, he didn't feel haunted. He's convinced he is, even if the fuel to propel those kinds of shitty thoughts is getting drunk on days when he should be resting.

—

"I want to burn every memory of you."

Chuuya murmurs under his breath, gloved fingers twirling the base of the wine glass to stimulate his turbulent thoughts—vibrant emotions that swish in the swell of his chest.

"You'd have to burn your own skin." A sweet voice breaks through the bitter taste of the red wine dissolving on his tongue. The statement and hollowness of your voice make him sharply turn behind him. Nothing. Just his empty office, the window before it, the cold air dancing around his tensed-up figure. Your absence evocative him.

Chuuya exhales sharply, a chill running up his spine. "My own skin?.." He takes a slim hand to card his russet locks in a cold confusion, scoffing just a bit. "Shit."

The mafioso leans back in the leather seat of his chair, before pouring the last of his wine bottle into the glass. Patting down his bolo tie and white dress shirt, he decides to waste this night drowning in red wine. A heavenly distraction from the reality of your hauntings, or the reality of your absence.

18k worth of alcoholic beverages wasted, down in the trash. Inaudible words conform on the curve of his lips, words of plea. It was a huge contrast to when Chuuya left you. "I'm sorry, really am.." he whispers, remnants of his scarlet wine ghosting over his lips. Fedora placed atop his head, covering his face, Chuuya lazily took out his phone, punching in his password with the messy coordination of his gloved fingers.

You're here, that's the thing.

Your number.

The mafia executive takes a shy and longing peek at your contact. Your last call 3 months ago, your profile picture stained with an old photo of you kissing his knuckles with an innocent smile tugging on your lips, and his thumb hovering over the 'call' button. Even in this drunken state, in the back of Chuuya's mind, he knew calling you would be audacious and pathetic. Especially when he left you first, but in the front of his mind, all he wanted was you. To hear your voice, either empty or full anger, or your voicemail, polite and concise, to hear the humanity that he lost by losing you.

The winter night

Chuuya presses on the call button, his screen lighting up and ringing. No real expectation that you were going to pick up, considering the time and caller. In the sea of his heart, that dreadful feeling was fought back by the artistic shuffle of his delusions. His once romantic poems chanted a mantra for you to pick up, that you were going to pick up the phone, not your ghost.

Chuuya's brows furrow, planting a line in the middle of his glabella. On this chilly night, where the usual jazz tunes of ensembles played in the Port Mafia's lobbies, musky scents and a hint of jasmine, and the click and clatter of heels and dress shoes..

My heart grieves;

..Chuuya feels himself yearning. Yearning for something more than this. The scent of home, your articles of clothing, your skin. He wants back the memory he wants to burn so badly, to smell the smoke and die on that same hill..

Greives without reason…

.."Please pick up." He feels himself pleading. Chuuya may tell himself you're all he wants right now, alcohol running wild in his noggin. However, he questions if he even knows what he needs..

My heart is rusting, turning purple.

.."Hi, you've reached [Y/N]. Thanks for calling, can't answer at the moment though. But if you leave a message I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Beep.

The night ends as Chuuya gently shuts off his phone.

But his first dream starts once enough alcohol is in his system.

They say the mind blocks out traumatizing memories to save itself from despondency. Nakahara Chuuya dreams, but he cannot grasp to remember that concept. Maybe, it's awful memories from his childhood or hallucinations from the children of the Sheep, or the Flags; Albatross, Doc, Pianoman, Iceman and Lippman.

"I'm sorry, if I stay with you, you'll just get hurt."

As if he was restricted in the ocean of his mind, Chuuya sees you and himself in your living room.

"I won't! You can send your bodyguards for protection, it's fine."

A constricted groan pulls from Chuuya's throat as he stares at the couch, wooden flooring, and anything but your pleading face. He remembers this all too well, the evening you separated. It was when Dazai left the mafia, and Chuuya continued to see his men drop like flies day after day from just his job alone. Apart from the other half of his soul disappearing completely, every piece of humanity he built up came crashing down on the body that his older brother called 2383 lines of code.

"It's not other people, it's myself! Don't you fuckin' get it?!"

A piercing silence fills the room. Aside from Chuuya's heart dropping at his own hurtful words, he tries to shut himself up, for looking at the way your eyes conform from pleading to understanding was all too much.

His voice cracking from the boiling misery in the pit of his stomach, Chuuya continues to look down, refusing to meet your teary eyes.

"You won't gain shit by being with me. I'm a monster, [Y/N]. I'm sorry."

The mafioso stares right at your pitiful figure, crystal tears poking the corners of your eyes. Like the hauntingly beautiful ghost he's ever seen through tunnel vision, Chuuya hasn't seen your truthful humanity in so long. For he saw you—a figment of himself, as he saw himself; inhuman.

...

"I'll always love you."

Chuuya snaps awake on his office chair, rays of sunshine ghosting over his ivory skin.

Pant.. Pant.

The man's eyes gaze at the loose ends of his office: the empty wine bottle, his dishevelled clothing, and the same, corporate-filled air surrounding him. Then, his phone.

2 missed calls.

Chuuya inhales sharply.

Perhaps it was the remnants of his dreadful hangover that took over him, that made Chuuya make the stupidest decision the Port Mafia has ever. But, his drunk words were his sober thoughts and, he wanted you back.

From [Y/N] [L/N].

Sent 7:35 AM — "Are you okay?"

And so, he swiftly grabbed his overcoat and dashed out of his office.

—

Mwah!

"I, Nakahara Chuuya, vow to love you forever and ever."

The man, bent down on one knee kisses the back of your hand teasingly. Chuuya Nakahara always took it next level, his grand gestures and sophisticated aura made him all the more appealing. That also meant planting an abundance more kisses on your fingers and knuckles.

You two had this unspoken code for each other: that hand kisses were an extremely valuable thing. Since Chuuya believes his hands are the ignition for Corruption, and are usually used for destruction, you could've chosen to have done anything with his ungloved hands to avenge the lives he's taken; but instead, you choose to kiss them.

"You're being corny again," you giggle, pointing to the bouquet in your hand—irises. "you even got me flowers."

You hit his head, huffing. "Hey!"

The mafioso smirks, chuckling. "I think you should be proud of yourself though," He teases, rubbing your hand gently, "you finally cooked something other than instant noodl—

Thwack!

—

In a disorienting manner, Chuuya hops off his motorbike at your workplace. Inhaling softly as he holds a bouquet of irises. All kinds of turbulent thoughts ran wild in his head, especially since he didn't get to shower yesterday. The man patted down his clothes and fixed his fair, adjusting his wrist to check his watch.

8:54.

Your work starts at 9:00 sharp.

Just as he's rushing to adjust his raven collar and fedora, the sight of your hair and work uniform catches his eye.

"Wait!"

—

Distance, timing and expectations.

The great adversaries of love.

A person cannot change distance or timing, but expectations are self-inflicted.

Chuuya felt like you were always going to expect more from him because he felt like he lacked in every way besides destruction. He expected that he was going to hurt you after Dazai left the Port Mafia, like a lingering spirit after they've lost their other half. Chuuya was responsible for inflicting negative 'what if's because of his own insecurities, losing you in the process.

He expected because you wanted him to stay back then, you were going to want that forever.

Because that's clearly not the case right now.

—

The redhead finally sees you in the sea of passersby, a clear image of your smiling face, pretty outfit, and glowing aura.

You stood out to him just like before.

So did the man beside you, with a bouquet of daffodils.

He took a fancy bow and kissed the back of your hand, handing over the flowers.

Oh, how irises—the flower of light, brought nothing more to him than darkness.

As crystal tears paint his eyes, Chuuya ponders the ache in his heart. He was truly foolish to believe more in your ghost, than you.

✧ chocsra™

#chocsra #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya bsd #chuuya oneshot #chuuya angst #ex chuuya #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya Nakahara angst #we can't be friends ariana #WOOHOO I POSTED #chuya x reader #chuya x you #chuya angst #chuya bsd #chuya nakahara #chuya x y/n

[jjksblackgf]

too daring for you? | knj (m)

pairing — kim namjoon x reader summary — Namjoon can't keep your roleplaying idea off his head, so he'll make sure to surprise you with it when you least expect it. genre — smut, pwp rate — 18+ word count — 1.9k warnings — explicit sexual content, role playing, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, teabagging, manhandling, light degradation, cum eating.

Perfume, check.

Leather jacket, check.

Favorite watch, check.

Tonight, Namjoon was a different man. His night would not be the same as the others. No more boring date nights inside his apartment. Today he’ll go to a nice bar, where you’ll be expecting him. But what you’re not accounting for is his intentions.

Today he’s fulfilling a fantasy. One he’s been intrigued by since you’ve mentioned it. But to pull it off, he has to be his best confident self. Be in his A game and catch you by surprise.

Checking himself in the mirror and everything looks fine, appropriate. Except his expression. He’s not ready for this. He can only think of your request to spice things up. He didn’t know they needed spicing up in the first place.

“I’m living my greatest fantasy right now,” he remembered saying. You two were cuddling in his bed after sex. You were cozied up to his chest, and he ran the tip of his fingers through your naked spine. He was almost purring.

“Cuddling?” you asked, sounding surprised.

“Intimacy,” he answered, giggling at your amazed expression.

“Really?” you checked. “But I can’t say I’m that surprised. You’re always so… intense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t really think we have sex per se, I see it as passionate love making. You’re fully committed to it.”

“And you’re not?” he asked. Your last sentence had his alarm bells turned on.

“Of course I am, love. Don’t get me wrong.” you shifted in bed, supporting your weight in one elbow to look at his face. “And I love that you’re passionate, and that you’re into all sorts of intimacy.”

“But?” he pressed, trying to stay calm.

“But… I, personally, wouldn’t categorize intimacy as a fantasy. I swear I’m not judging you.”

“Okay…”

“Are you mad?” you asked, and he watched as your brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you consider a fantasy?” he asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him. You just stayed in silence and studied his face, your brows still furrowed. “I’m not mad,” he clarified, making sure his voice sounded calm enough. 

He was telling the truth. Mad was not the correct word to describe his feelings. He was a little worried that he wasn’t satisfying you, so he was worried. He wanted you all to himself — soul and body, especially body — and he wanted you to moan how much you belonged to him, so he was possessive. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of another man finding the weak spots he worked so hard to build, so he was jealous. But mad wasn’t one of them.

You sighed, taking him out of his musings, and you answered sheepishly. “I like roleplaying,” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment and changed the subject.

But that night still ran through his mind every time you had sex, and in the ride to that bar he replayed that scene over and over again. He had to know what you were like, who you were, when you didn’t want to be yourself.

That was enough to give him back his confidence in his idea. His curiosity got him into this mess, and it was that same itch that would get him through it. 

The slick wood arches over the bar were the first thing to catch his eyes when he entered. The low light above the tables and booths complimented nicely with the black leather chairs. The live band wasn’t half bad with the smooth jazz. 

The atmosphere was sexy. He picked right.

He sat on a bar stool and asked for his favorite drink.

“A manhattan for me, please,” he heard a familiar voice say, and he turned around to fall in love with you all over again. 

Your smile was big when you looked at his face, and you opened your mouth to start talking, but Namjoon was set on making this night special from beginning to end. After all, he didn’t let you in on his plans for a reason. He wanted to see the desire and lust in your eyes when you realized his idea. Another thing he was curious about. 

“Hello, stranger,” he started, offering his hand. When you accepted it, he took it to his lips, planting a sweet kiss there. “I must be pretty lucky to have such a beautiful face sit right next to me.” 

“Thank you…” you said. Your tone of voice gave away your confusion, bending at the end, making it sound like a question. Namjoon guessed you were trying to understand his strange behavior.

“Does your pretty face come with a name?” he continued. He was amused by the many emotions running through your face, but he hadn’t quite reached the one he wanted to see the most yet.

“What?” you asked.

“Oh, no worries. I don’t mind a little mystery.” he leaned towards you and took a sip of his drink. “My name is Namjoon by the way. I hope I get to know you better this evening, angel.”

Jackpot. 

Your face lit up with understanding, and a sly smile adorned your face.

“You sound intriguing, Namjoon.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” he winked and was pleased when you bit your bottom lip. He made sure the bartender knew he’d pay for the drinks and made a move to leave. “I must leave now. But if you want to have the time of your life, here’s where to find me,” he said. 

He handed you a card with the name of a club and some cash for the Uber. “I’ll be waiting for you, angel. I know you won’t disappoint me.” he said, leaning closer to your face and inhaling the scent of your perfume. “Your name is on the list,” he whispered to your ear, before planting another kiss to your earlobe.

Arriving at the club was easy enough. The waiting for you to show up was almost a torture device. 

Did he do it right? Did you feel controlled, like he was dominating your decisions? Were you turned on by the idea? At the end, after he handed you the card, was the glint in your eyes just residue from the surprise? Or did you feel your stomach flutter, much like his own heart was beating out of his chest?

The possibilities were endless.

But it was like you had a neon sign pointed directly at you. He could see your face as you looked for him in the crowd. He took a sip of his drink. Should he go after you, or should he let you find him? He twitched in his seat, his leg bouncing. He must do something. 

But alas, there you were.

Eyes still filled with fascination. Your lips parted as you two made eye contact, and Namjoon watched you in awe. Shoulders back, and hips moving side to side, inviting him to glare, to stare, to inappropriately lick his lips. He watched every second of your hands as they ran through your body, touching all the places he knew you liked to be kissed. Your neck, your navel, the curve of your hips.

Dancing for him. A show just for him. Other people get to watch and envy him. But he’s the only one that can touch.

Intimacy be damned. He liked this fantasy better.

You curled your fingers, inviting him to dance. He didn’t have to think twice. 

He didn’t recognize himself. The Namjoon of yesterday wouldn’t do such a thing. Too timid to dance like this in public. To grab his partner by the waist and ogle at his favorite body parts. But you changed him. Reached his genetic makeup and twisted it to your liking.

He liked it too.

He didn’t last more than a song underneath your touch. Your hands ran upwards through his body, but before they could reach his neck and fist his hair, Namjoon was already kissing you. It was urgent, it was inappropriate, it was too damn sexual. He was sure he’d leave the club with a boner.

His tongue unceremoniously intertwined with yours, and his hands grabbed your ass with fervor. You weren’t so cute either. Namjoon remembered you were in a public setting when your hands reached the front of his pants.

He stopped your search, holding your wrists behind your back. 

“Not here, angel,” he said, panting.

“I know where,” you offered, twisting your wrists so you’d be hauling him around the club.

You reached the bathrooms, and you shoved him inside before a line could form behind you. Before he could ask about your intentions, you pushed him against the wall, kissing him again. He allowed himself to go further, biting your neck and leveraging his position to grind his groin against your abdomen.

“Fuck, I can’t take this,” you said, dropping to your knees and opening his zipper. 

His cock was already hard when you wrapped your mouth around him. He moaned your name repeatedly as you massaged his length in synchronicity with your lips. He moaned even louder when his tip reached the back of your throat. Your gag reflex made your throat even tighter, and he wanted to scream your name.

But of course you had to surprise him, using his length to slap your face and tongue, and putting pressure around his base. And that was enough for him to be overwhelmed by his instincts. He grabbed a chunk of your hair with one hand and secured your jaw open with the other, inserting himself in and out as he pleased.

He thrusted his hips once more, as far as your mouth would allow. He wanted to feel your throat closing around his tip again. He only let you up for air after you tapped his thigh. But he wasn’t done being rough. The trail of saliva left between his dick and your tongue inspired him even further. 

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his voice almost an octave lower, and you obliged with a smile. He spit on your tongue before placing his testicles inside your mouth. Between the warmth of your tongue and his agile hands, he was close. “Fuck,” he moaned, inserting his dick in your mouth one last time before climax overpowered him. “I want to see you swallow it,” he asserted, already adjusting his pants.

You did as he asked and opened your mouth showing your tongue to prove it. Your smile was as big as he’d ever seen. If he knew you’d be this wild, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to comply with your wishes.

“Good,” he said, taking a deep breath and helping you get to your feet.

Before you could say anything, or even better, go home to finish the night, there was a banging on the bathroom door.

When Namjoon opened it, he was met with a security guard, followed by an irritated manager.

“Oh, goody,” the manager said, taking a look around Namjoon to find you hiding behind him.

“Would you two please step aside? The bathroom is off limits from certain activities. I’m gonna have to escort you out of the premises.”

“Sure, that’s no problem.” Namjoon didn’t turn around to look at you. He just squeezed your hand as you two walked out of the club, but he knew your whole body was burning from embarrassment. “Well, there’s a story to tell our grandkids,” he joked once you two were on a cab headed home.

“If you tell them any of this, I will slowly poison you,” you threatened. “But I do need to tell them how amazing you are in all aspects,” you gushed, hugging his neck. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime, angel.”

#bts x reader #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #bangtanbathhouse #btsafterdarknet

[bbina]

"that's enough for you tonight" eunseok successfully snatches the bottle of vodka you were chugging off your hands after shotaro and wonbin thought it'd be funny to dare you to do so

"eunseok!" you react, feeling the liquid drip all over your chin. you were busy drinking your ass off after being broken up with your dumb boyfriend over a petty fight. eunseok glares at the two giggling boys before they scurry off somewhere else to find their next target, that being which was seunghan

eunseok, noticing that you were now absolutely hammered decided to take matters into his own hands by guiding (more like dragging) you back to the table

"no! i want to dance with sohee and sungchan!" you whined, drunkenly pointing fingers at the dance floor where sohee and sungchan obviously dominated with their killer dance moves (obviously scaring the bitches away)

before eunseok can say anything, you free yourself from his grip by yanking your hand back before running off to the dance floor. you, sohee and sungchan immediately form a little dance circle and started busting out dance moves

with the way bystanders started cheering and joining in the circle, you were having a blast. the dj suddenly starts playing "we are never ever getting back together" by taylor swift and almost in an instant, you knew it was over on the floor

"this is my jam! fuck you jae!" you yell out, a middle finger up in the air as you started to go down. shaking your hips and all that funky jazz. you hear sungchan and sohee cheer you on, whipping out their phones to record you

eunseok was standing from afar watching you lose yourself to the music. he finds it a little funny with the way you were acting tonight because he knows damn well that you won't remember a single thing tomorrow

now the dj switches the song to something more sultry. the lights in the building changing to red. eunseok then feels someone tapping on shoulder, it was a random girl asking him to dance with her. he easily turns them down and says he's busy which was a lie (to be fair he kinda was busy. busy keeping an eye on you)

when he looks back to look for you among the sea of people, he sees you dancing with someone else. in an instant, eunseok's mood shifts, he clicks his tongue in annoyance as he hurries to the dance floor to save you from this potential creep

too drunk to process who was dancing with you, you may or may not started grinding on a stranger. the stranger hums in content before placing his hands on your waist. before you could react, you feel someone grab your wrist, dragging you someplace else

you look up to see eunseok with a stone cold expression on his face. staring down the stranger who even had the nerve to dance with you.

"eunseo-"

"we're leaving" he says cooly, easily maneuvering his way through the sea of people. he grimaces at the thought of just looking away for a brief second to seeing you grinding against a creep

at this point the alcohol has settled in your veins. you were now shitfaced drunk. eunseok takes notice of this and sighs, rolling his eyes at how he now needs to take care of you and probably the rest too if he could find them along the way

eunseok carefully sits you down back at the table. making sure that you weren't postured in a weird way since you were wearing a skintight dress

you're almost about to fall over the table, so drunk that you can barely keep your balance. but before you can topple over, eunseok grabs you by the shoulders and gently guides you back onto the sofa seats. as the minutes pass by, you feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier

eunseok sits next to you and removes the jacket he was wearing before draping them all over your chest. eunseok takes a moment to look over your drunken state. your makeup was now all messy with all the dancing you did and from your sweat with how hot the building was with the amount of people inside

he fishes for his phone in his pockets to call shotaro that it was time to leave but he feels you shift next to him. your head was now leaning on his shoulder. the jacket he placed on top of you was now on the ground.

sensing how warm eunseok was, you scoot closer than ever that you were plush against him. eunseok freezes at the sudden skinship. he takes a mental note that it was probably the alcohol in system but last time he checked, he didn't drink that much. only some sips here and there, just enough to feel the buzz

eunseok hears you hum, snuggling yourself closer if that was even possible. he takes a peak at your slouched figure and things just weren't going his way does it? he notices that your chest was almost exposed with the way you were leaning on him. he sighs and tells you to sit properly, hoping you could still hear and understand him

thankfully though, you do and sit up. just like you were told. he turns to you to give you a little scolding but instead he was met with your lips on his

"shut up i'm trying to sleep here" you slur, a finger over your lips almost as if you were shushing him before you go back to your previous position, leaning on eunseok's shoulder.

eunseok's brain starts malfunctioning for a brief second before he returns to his senses. he touches his lips that had some residue from the remains of your lipgloss. that's when eunseok feels you fall limp. you've officially blacked out and was now knocked out cold

"y/n?" he shakes your shoulders in attempt to wake you up but much to his dismay, you weren't budging. eunseok internally curses at the way the situation rolled out but a part of him wishes you'd remember that little kiss you two shared just a moment ago.

notes.ᐟ inspired by a clip i saw on tiktok teehee and a little rewrite of one of my works back at saeist!

#riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #eunseok imagines #eunseok scenarios #eunseok x reader #song eunseok imagines #song eunseok scenarios #song eunseok x reader #riize eunseok #eunseok #song eunseok #riize drabbles #eunseok drabbles #eunseok fluff #riize fluff

[britcision]

Oh we like cursed Jazz content in this house

So Jazz’s gotten her degree and a nice totally safe internship at Arkham Asylum, as one does

And one day while she’s hanging in the interview room waiting for her next patient, who comes in but former fellow doctor Harleen Quinzel

Is Harley actually back at Arkham or half way through a break in? Doesn’t matter

Maybe Ivy needed a hand with a particularly well protected shady polluter

Maybe she’s breaking Killer Croc out for poker night

Maybe she’s just visiting to punch Joker in the face

What matters is the heat is on and Harley’s gonna be hanging out in this room, and here’s a cute young psychiatrist and Harley can’t resist a punch line

And Jazz Fenton? Jazz knows when she’s being played with, and she’s fought way worse than Harley

Hell, 10 minutes in she’s reminded so strongly of Danny she’s gotta call him after work

And Jazz has done her research, she knows who Harley is, and is very touched by her concern

But then there’s another rogue attack, the prison is in shambles, and it’s time for a change of plan

Harley’s happy to tell Jazz where to find an emergency buzzer and to barricade the door behind her, hoping the newbie will be safe

Cuz that works out in Arkham for sure

Before Harley can dip the door busts in, someone’s looking for a hostage and Harley’s stepping up for some more active protection of her new friend

Right up until they get shot in the face before Harley can connect and fall smoking to the floor

Jazz is no Poison Ivy, but beautiful, dangerous redheads are Harley’s kryptonite and she’s begging for Jazz’s number

Harley looks back at Jazz and her lipstick gun and oh now she’s in love

Jazz gives her the cute smile and says isn’t Harley taken, because Jazz kind of is now but they can be friends

Harley, competitive, will accept the number and demands the lucky fucker’s name cuz they’d better pray they’re good enough for Jazz

…

Three weeks later, Harley’s at the precinct with vital information about someone’s latest great caper

But she’ll only give it up to Jason Todd

(People know he’s alive only because this idea was precisely 12% funnier than Harley trying to hunt down Red Hood in Crime Alley

Harley’s a god tier psychiatrist and has known who the bats are for ages, but like fuck she’s going to Wayne Manor)

There’s been no hint that Harley was really involved and things are getting tense, but this is Harley Fucking Quinn who exists solely in places she’s not meant to be

They can’t risk not going if she might have something

So Jason, cranky about crimes, puts on his best people face and comes down to an unsurveilled (except for Bats) room to ask wtf

Harley stares him dead in the eye

“I’m gonna steal your girlfriend”

Then just drops street addresses, trap locations, and the fucking key to the warehouse crime was in

Bruce: confused but happy it worked and Harley’s still not back into major terrorism

Jason: fucking befuddled

Jazz: loves it

Ivy: fondly resigned

All other bats: never letting Jason live this down

The ongoing Harley/Hood prank war is fucking epic in proportion

Ivy and Jazz hang out whenever they’re busy and oh dear sarcastic peppy psychiatrists are also Ivy’s kryptonite

So the second Jason even vaguely upsets Jazz he is well aware she has two extremely loving lesbian moms just waiting to snatch her away

Call it Gotham Bachelorette

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #and fuck it maddie fenton comes by one day #and ooooooh lawdy the girls know where jazz gets it from #jazz fenton #harley quinn #the sirens also routinely bully bruce that he can’t adopt jazz #cuz a) she’s dating his son #and b) no black hair that makes her theirs #danny also becomes insufferable about this in very short ordee #being the ghost king means you can be as annoying as at least 3 baby bats combined

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars pt.13

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: Y/n and Callum have their puppy interview, but they fell in love with one...

Warning: use of Y/n/ babies/

Word count: 750 words

They sat down, she was so excited. ‘’I’m so excited!’’ She squealed as she rested her head on Callum’s shoulder. Callum only laughed before Great Pyrenees puppies run into the room. Y/n’s eyes filled with stars, just like anime, she was in awe. ‘’Oh my god! Hi precious!!!’’ she squeals. Callum looks at her, smiling, but a puppy ran on him. ‘’Oh, hello you!’’ he giggles. Puppies run into each other and fight a little. ‘’No! Don’t fight, I’m going to separate you!’’ Y/n squeak, separating the puppies. ‘’Honey, these puppies are not Daisy and Ophelia’’ Callum laughed. Y/n giggled and looked at the interviewers. ‘’How did your labour go? And did it affect your work?’’ Y/n smiled. ‘’I was long, but it was totally worth the pain, I have two beautiful girls at home. And I think it affected my work in way that I’m more conscious of the time I’m spending away from home’’ she said, while her hand was being chased by puppies. She really fell in love with one of the puppies. ‘’What’s this little guy’s name?’’ she asked. ‘’He’s called Jazz’’ one of the women said. ‘’Callum, what was the best thing about working with Y/n?’’ As he was about to answer, a puppy ran on his leg. ‘’Hey there, little guy, uh the best thing about working with her was, uh, it was like having a safety net. During like hard scene, she was often with me, and it was reassuring, knowing that she was there with me’’ he said. ‘’Y/n, same question’’ Y/n smiled and looked at Callum. ‘’Uh, like he said – ‘’ a puppy was chewing on her hand. ‘’ – no, I’m not a toy. Uh, sorry where was I?’’ she laughs. She didn’t think she was going to give much content, she was too distracted by puppies.

The interview was sadly over, Y/n didn’t want to go. She fell in love with Jazz and wanted to bring him back home. ‘’Can we have him?’’ Y/n asked, eyes filled with happy tears. She was holding Jazz. ‘’Y/n, we have newborn twins at home, you want a puppy that’s going to grown and be enormous?’’ Callum giggled. Y/n nodded and smiled, she kissed Jazz and looked at Callum. ‘’Please, look at him! He’s adorable!’’ She squeals. ‘’But we’re already sleep deprived, we have two babies, and you want a puppy?’’ he laughed. ‘’Yes, please, please, Callum you’re the best husband and the best dad ever, please!’’ she did her puppy eyes, he wasn’t able to resist. ‘’Ok, but remember it was your idea!’’ he finally gave in.

When they entered the house, Rosemary was in the living room with the twins. ‘’Hello! How did it go?’’ she asked. ‘’Good, we have a puppy!’’ Y/n exclaims as she shows the puppy to Callum’s mom. ‘’Oh my, he’s adorable!’’ she smiles. Y/n puts the puppy on the ground and goes to her daughters. ‘’Hello my precious! Were you good for grandma?’’ she squeaks. ‘’They were angels’’ Rosemary answers.

She looked at the time, 3:16 am, she was woken up by cries, Callum was asleep, but it was okay, he already got up earlier to feed the twins, but it was Y/n’s turn. When she opened the door, Jazz was in front of it. He looked like he wanted to pee, so Y/n quickly got to Ophelia, she was crying, started to breastfeed her as she went down the stairs to bring Jazz to her pee mat. Callum woke up, because his other daughter was crying, his wife wasn’t beside him. He went in his daughter’s bedroom and took Daisy in his arms, he heard Y/n talk downstairs, so he followed the noise and found his wife, breastfeeding Ophelia and directing Jazz, at the same time. She was seated on the floor, waiting for the puppy to pee. ‘’Honey, what are you doing on the floor?’’ he yawned. ‘’Ophelia was hungry, and Jazz needed to pee, but the mat is stressing him, so I’s staying with him. Is Daisy hungry too?’’ she asked. ‘’Yeah, I think so, give me Ophelia’’ Callum said as they exchanged daughters. She switched breast as she began to feed Daisy. Callum sat next to her. ‘’I told you it was going to be tiring’’ he smirked. ‘’Don’t be a smart butt, I’m not (yawns) tired’’ she said. She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘’I love you’’ she whispers. ‘’I love you too’’ he replied. Jazz finally peed; the couple almost celebrated, that meant that they could go back to a much needed sleep.

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #master of the air

[babyjakes]

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event | jan ‘23 blurb night

summary | you will learn to take cock; it's the doctor's orders.

pairing | mean!dark!doctor!ransom drysdale x lloyd's little!reader

warnings | ddlg (daddy!lloyd's little!reader), doctor!ransom is mean, dark, cruel, sick, and we love him for it <33, dub/noncon, medfet elements: exam table, restraints, gloves, vaginal dilators, stretching (reader is initially very tight), pain kink, crying, mocking/degradation, humiliation, praise, one forced orgasm, implied forced p in v sex :^), formatting looks silly bc went over the character count

word count | 1,488

requested by anon | Hey hey, what about a mean!doctor ransom with those vaginal dilators? He has a couple that gradually get larger in both length and thickness. Since he knows reader has such a small hole, he works those dilators one at a time to get her stretched and used to the size so he can pound into her later or at a later date. He’s a sadistic little shit too, enjoying whenever reader is moaning or whimpering in pain, telling him to ease up or take it out. Yet, he responds with something like “Awww, but we got to get you nice and stretched for my cock. You can take it, can’t you? Cmon…Be a good little fuck toy.” Maybe after a bit of begging, he shows the reader some mercy by rubbing her clit as he works the next size into her. Once he gets her through the size closest to his *coughs* hard as fuck cock *coughs*, he’d probably fuck her right then and there. Who knows….. I feel like he’d definitely take pleasure in watching her grow anxious though as he fastens the straps tightly, puts his gloves on, lays out the dilators and anything else he needs or wants, cuts off her clothes/underwear with a knife, that jazz. I wonder if he would explain what he would be doing to her or would he rather choose not to inform reader what torture procedure they’re gonna be enduring. Just a thought :)

an | oooh thanks for this wonderful idea friend! i hope it's okay that i took it and tweaked it a little bit!! i just love the idea of ran doing this to lloyd's baby, those two assholes work so perfectly together in my mind <3

dr. hugh ransom drysdale is such a fucking menace.

and that's precisely what lloyd loves so much about him. he's nearly as sadistic and cruel as the mustached maniac himself, which makes him the naturally perfect fit when lloyd's girl ends up having a little problem... down there.

he drops you off at the younger man's office, wide-eyed and trembling as you sign in at the receptionist's desk. no one accompanies you back to your room, and it takes everything in you not to turn and run when dr. drysdale himself appears in the doorway, pumping sanitizer onto his hands as he closes the door behind him. no nurse accompanying him, it's just the two of you in the claustrophobic exam room. "ms. y/n," he greets, rubbing the foam between his hands as he takes a seat on his stool, motioning for you to get up on the table.

your eyes never leave him as you climb up, trying to use the pathetic patient's gown as best you can to cover yourself as you sit at the edge of the table. ransom chuckles at your bashfulness, rolling over and yanking off the flimsy garment before you can even think to stop him. "we won't be needing that, sweetheart. now be a good girl and lie back for me."

he's rough when handling you to guide you further toward the edge of the padded surface. when he reaches for your legs to put them up in the stirrups, your first tears begin to fall. "aw, poor thing. look at you- such big, frightened eyes. don't cry, baby. 'm i gonna have to strap you down?" his voice is so mocking in tone, you pass a small glare his way. "lloyd said you can get pretty defiant when trying to fit things up there, let's see..." he finds the right set of restrains in one of the drawers below the table, beginning to secure you in place as your soft protests start.

your poor heart rate's elevated as you lie tied and spread in such a vulnerable manner; staring up at the ceiling, you try to get your breathing under control. "now sweetheart, did your daddy tell you what we'd be doing today? he go over the procedures i'll need to perform?"

cheeks burning in humiliation, you look over at the grinning doctor as he starts to pull on a pair of black exam gloves. "it's okay, little girl. no need to be embarrassed. your daddy brought you here because he can't fuck you, right? he can't fit his cock up your tight little pussy?" you wince at his profanities, but he doesn't mind. "well," his voice trails off as he snaps on his second glove, tightening them both before focusing on the unopened box waiting for him on his instrument tray, "lucky for you, i know exactly how to help poor little girls who can't fit anything up their tiny little fuckholes."

from your spot, you strain to see what he removes from the packaging. when you realize it's a set of black rubber cylinders with rounded ends, ranging in size from just an inch wide and a few inches long to... god knows how long or wide, completely massive, your breath hitches in your throat. seeing your panic, ransom chuckles. "don't worry, baby. we'll start small. gotta work you up to the bigger ones, get you nice and ready for your daddy's big dick."

as you cry and tremble silently to yourself, he positions himself between your spread legs, grabbing a small bottle of lubricant and spreading some over the tip of one of the smaller instruments. "know you're not warmed up yet, sweetheart. bet you're still dry and scared- that's okay. this should help." once he has enough of the clear goo applied to the rubber, he turns to the intimate spot between your legs. "poor little girl," he repeats as he brings a thumb up to run over your folds, his sick mind of course finding great pleasure in the sight of you jerking away from his touch.

he brings the tip of the dilator up to rub over your hole a few times before slowly pushing it in, surprised at how tight you actually are. "jesus," he breathes, "he wasn't kidding when he said you can't even take a finger, hmm?"

"p-please," you beg as your head twists and turns desperately, "t-too big, hurts- please!"

"shhh, you can take it," ransom fights you, working the tool back and forth gradually until he has the entire thing fit inside your sore cunt. tears prickle in your eyes at the stretch. "see? that wasn't so bad," he croons, pumping the length of it in and out for a few minutes before removing it. he knows he should probably just work up one size at a time, but part of him wants it to hurt for you, so he decides to skip a few sizes. at the sight of his next choice, you cry harder.

"aww, poor little baby. but we have to get you all ready for your daddy's cock, remember? this next one isn't even close, we still have so far to go." once he's lubed up the toy, he starts to push it in again. he can't help but smile and laugh at you as you struggle against your restraints, letting out such sweet little cries of pain. "c'mon, gotta be a big girl for me. can you do that, sweetheart?" he asks, already knowing your answer.

"no, please!" you sob, "please! can't take it, h-hurts so bad- please!"

"i know it hurts baby, but we gotta get you nice and stretched out. you can take it, pretty girl. c'mon, almost there..." he has to fight to get the damn thing all the way in, but once he does and starts working it in and out, fucking you at a gradual pace with it, you're finally easing up a little bit, your cries of pain transitioning into little whimpers and moans. "there," he grins, getting a little rougher with his ministrations. "that's a good little slut, see? doesn't that feel good? so full, taking it so far up in you? look at you, you dirty girl; are you starting to get wet for me?"

you're panting, droopy-eyed, disoriented; you don't understand why it's starting to feel good. he removes the second size and you're given a moment to catch your breath, but when you see the next one the doctor's selected, you just about fall apart all over again. "oh come on, don't cry again," ransom groans, resisting the urge to shove the thing into you dry. "you're getting so close, sweetheart. here," once it's properly lubed, he begins pressing in again, and when you clench your teeth and begin to sob as predicted, he decides to have a little mercy on you, bringing his free hand up to rub your clit lightly with his thumb. your cries lessen as he masturbates you, though it's still an unbearable stretch. "i know, so big, isn't it baby? think after this one we'll be able to try one the size of your daddy's dick- won't he be so proud?"

it's a struggle to get it in, taking lots of pushing and help from ransom's thumb on your clit, but eventually you're able to take the toy in its entirety. "good, that's a good little fucktoy. look at you, getting so fucking needy- you're dripping all over the table, naughty girl." though it wasn't in his original plan, he's loving the sight of you writhing and mewling under his touch. growing a little more forceful with his thrusts, he speeds up his thumb over your clit. "you gonna cum for me baby? feels that good, huh? just can't help yourself."

you have no desire to orgasm, but at this point it seems like you won't have a choice. "no, wait- please-" you start to protest, but your resistance only eggs the doctor on more.

his voice is low, dark as he cuts you off. "no, don't fight me, little girl. you're gonna cum for me, now." tears well up in your eyes once more as you're brought to the edge of a terrifying climax; ransom lets out a vicious laugh as your orgasm rips through you. "fuck, just like that. filthy little bitch, getting off on the pain."

as you float down from your high, you're too dazed to notice the object being removed from you, and the doctor's hands pulling away. but when you come back to your senses to see dr. drysdale's massive, rock-hard cock has sprung free from his trousers, you're back to a terrified, frantic state as he grins devilishly at you. "what?" he mocks confusion as he reaches a hand down to pump his length a few times with a low grunt. “this way we can ensure you’ll be ready for your daddy.”

#eun’s writing #eun's blurb nights #jan ‘23 blurb night #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale drabble #ransom drysdale blurb #ransom drysdale headcanon #chris evans #chris evans smut #knives out #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[my-my-my]

Could you talk about Aizen"s relationship with Shinji? What he thinks about him? etc

Sure! This ask gave me an itch to reread TBTP because (much to my dismay), I wish we saw Aizen and Shinji interact during TYBW. I hope we see some added content in the anime, but I'm not holding my breath lol.

This is going to be more of a ramble/word dump so I apologize if it's not cohesive!

TW: none!

I'm of the opinion that if there was anyone Aizen wanted to understand him (outside of Urahara), it would have been Shinji. I specifically think about this panel and how interesting it is that Kubo gave Aizen a sad look in his eyes. We don't really see sadness in Aizen, there's only one other scene where I vaguely recall him looking more sad/disappointed (vs him being bored/disappointed).

(This is from Ch -316/TBTP 10)

We know from Shinji's side, he was always wary and somewhat cautious around Aizen. He never trusted him fully and kept him at arms length for everything. On one hand, this leads him to his downfall, but I also read it as Shinji having an immediate gut reaction to not trust Aizen and Shinji could never shake that off. He can be professional with Aizen, but he mentally cannot handle anything beyond that. Something about Aizen felt so fundamentally off to Shinji that he could not get close to him.

So I wonder if this bothered Aizen as well... Aizen is someone who meticulously crafted his persona. He was known to be kind, hardworking and diligent, but something about this persona immediately gave a warning to Shinji.

But I'm not gonna defend Aizen and say he crafted the "perfect" persona - because even he (in a roundabout way) admits he didn't. Even subconscious traits of the "real" Aizen comes through with every interaction Aizen and Shinji would have had with each other, but because of the wall Shinji mentally puts between the two of them, he cannot discern these traits. So while this adds to Aizen's "loneliness complex", it gives him leeway to add in stand-ins with Kyoka Suigetsu. And that's what disappoints Aizen at his core - even his own Captain can't recognize the little things about him.

And this leads me to think that Aizen and Shinji were Lieutenant and Captain for a few centuries at least. We know that at Nanao's graduation from the academy, Aizen was already the Lieutenant of Squad 5:

(Ch. 652/The Theatre Suicide Scene 6)

So yes, Shinji may have had time to "understand" Aizen - but he doesn't. Even at the start of TBTP, Aizen asks Shinji what he's listening to and while Aizen doesn't understand jazz, instead of trying to get to "know" Aizen (even frivously), by asking him "what music do you even listen to then?" he tells him "why did you ask me that then?"

Another thing I noticed is that Aizen (during TBTP) asks a surprising amount of questions (it can be argued though that these are the hypnotized stand-ins asking). He's trying to gain as much knowledge as he can from other people, and Shinji isn't there to answer, or even acknowledge that he's asking questions. It's also "normal" for Aizen to be seen at the library, as Shunsui and the C46 didn't bat an eye at Aizen's alibi. While fundamentally Captain/Lieutenant relationships can really be any sort of dynamic (mentor/mentee, boss and personal assistant), I got the sense that Aizen didn't really "learn" much from Shinji about the ways of Soul Society. Shinji had a tight lip and only shared what needed to be shared likely for work-reasons.

And then there's their shikais! I found it fascinating how both of them have reality-altering shikais. Shinji's shikai being a complete distortion of senses, while Aizen's is subtle manipulation of senses. I don't really have any more to say for that, but I've interpreted this as their way of being honest with people. Shinji's manipulation of senses is very cognizant and deliberate - Shinji is blunt. Aizen's is subtle but traumatizing - you can't trust anything coming from Aizen.

I think though, Shinji's experience with Aizen shaped how he treats his Squad going forward. I have a soft spot for headcanons for how Squad 5 operates post-Aizen's incarceration. Shinji treats Momo much differently than he did with Aizen because he knows what it's like being used and completely victimized by Aizen. There's no point in him being on his guard against someone who was hurt just as badly as he was by Aizen's hand. There is a sense of camaraderie they share in that sense. No one (arguably) "knew" Aizen as much as they did because they worked with him in such close capacity. I'd love to know what lies and truths Aizen shared with them lol.

Sorry again for this ramble, but thank you for this ask! Wish we see/have more Squad 5 content, but alas!

#bleach #aizen sousuke #shinji hirako #aizen sosuke #sosuke aizen #hirako shinji #bleach headcanons #answered #shinji #aizen

[valen-nidk]

Prev. | Interlude |

「 Radiosilence (QPR Reader and Alastor) 」

Content: Mostly angst; t.w.: panic attack, anxiety attack, swearing, fear of abandonement, Charlie doesn't get paid to be a therapist.

"God fucking damn it", they turned on their heels as they kept walking, grunting and cussing. Their eyes focused on a chair as they kicked it across the room, effectively breaking it. Hands gripping their hair and lightly tugging at it. "How could he do this to me?!".

"I, ah, what if we take deep breaths..?", Charlie stuttered, the princess of Hell looking anxious at how this particular room was an absolute wreck, even the windows were broken — maybe she needed a hotel manager or someone with more experience than her and uhh, maybe let Vaggie pick who gets to stay in through an interview process..? The demon before her simply stared at her with a sharp glare that made her feel small.

"You have to excuse me, Charlie but, I can't take a deep breath when I feel like suffocating", such words were accompanied by them scratching the skin from their neck all the way down to their collarbone with their claws that were poking out, slightly tearing the skin and bleeding. Somehow that helped to ground them and not spiral out of control. "I can expect betrayal from everyone but him, we are waaay past that stage, we grew up together, aged together, and he disappears?! What the Hell am I supposed to expect? To feel? It's like my metaphorical heart has been ripped apart and torn into pieces, my ribcage hurts when I breath, fucking Hell!", grabbing a book from the small bookshelf, the demon named (Y/N) growled and tossed it against the wall, denting it. They were breathing heavily as they tried to calm down, usually Alastor would know how to calm them down but he was the cause.

"Charlie, you don't understand, he and I... I can feel he made a poor choice because he was cornered and not knowing what he did is driving me insane, I have a deep connection with him. Hell, if he breathes the wrong way I know what the fuck is up—". Explaining their relationship was complex, usually they got misunderstood because apparently someone couldn't care about another without having romantic feelings or whatever.

This feeling was far more complex, they were more than family and friends, soulmates was a bit of a stretch... perhaps a mirror of one another in some fancy manner of speech? And ocasionally engaged in exchanges that could be interpreted in a different light, but romance wasn't it. They had a mutual connection but no carnal desires, their company was an anchor to ground them, it was a comforting bond.

Whatever social need they required, they could satisfy with each other without any misunderstanding or, at least, if there was one then it could be easily fixed with a conversation over a hot beverage with jazz playing on the background.

But Alastor broke their bond without any fucking explanation.

"Fuck, fuck!", (Y/N) cried as they held their face, falling onto their knees. Their vision blurry due to tears rolling down their cheeks, they were having trouble breathing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x male reader #alastor x nb reader #🧍 he speaks

[thyln4gf]

Lets have some fun, shall we?

✞ This is a little different from what i usually do! This piece of work consists of some of my favourite F1 drivers as sexual gestures/things, and shortest, smallest blurbs ever about them (also a song for each). Its made based on purely my intuition and imagination, so just sit back and enjoy i guess.

✞ Word count - 1467

✞ Warnings - heavily sexual content.

✞ Drivers included - Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo, Lewis Hamilton, George Russel, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Alex Albon, Sebastian Vettel, Jenson Button.

✞ Authors note - requests open! Doesnt matter if you want more for a particular driver, or something completely new.

Charles Leclerc (closer to you - jungkook)

Drunk sex - He's definitely the type to underestimate his limits by a little, or maybe even a lot. Some people would say that those type of decisions are the worst ones that they have ever made. To him? Heaven on earth. Nothings more thrilling to him than the fuzzy feeling taking over his brain, the haze over his eyes - feeling like his body is operating on its own. You know what they say? If you take away one of your senses, the other gets stronger. So by taking away his ability to think properly, he's allowing himself to feel the pleasure even stronger than before. He finds solo sessions like that okay, but with you? Sheesh... He might as well have been a man who wasnt breathing, judging by the desperation he takes and eats you up.

Carlos Sainz (american teenager - ethel cain)

Morning sex - think of him being absolutely exhausted after a hard day at work, coming home to you - youre also exhausted, you were taking care of the kids, ran some errands, took a few calls. So you two cuddle up and fall asleep right away. Now lets take ourselves to the morning - its 7am, and the sun is already shining through the window. He wakes up to the feeling of your warm body, your bare skin against his. He might try to resist his urges at first, but then he'd inhale some of your scent - and he would immediately cave in. You cant resist his offer either, its tempting - being a parent, and having a husband who's always travelling... what could be a more perfect time to get going at it? The drowsiness after a good nights sleep still lingering and the rays of sunshine slipping through the window makes it much, much more addictive.

Max Verstappen (change (in the house of flies) - deftones)

Angry makeout sessions - now, lets be real. Did you expect anything else? This man has a lot of pent up anger. Not enough of that, he's a pretty angry man in general. He can be gentle, yes, and he has showed you exactly that multiple times. But one has to let off some steam and let the anger fade away. To him, making out with you is the perfect medicine. The softness of your lips and his aim to please you distracts his brain, and his senses get busy by letting his hands squeeze and caress your body anywhere he can reach. He seems to love your hips and your thighs - sometimes, he'd grip hard enough to leave some bruises. Not that you mind - it reminds you of the fact that he's yours, that he's desperate for you, and that he's not going anywhere. He needs you.

Daniel Ricciardo (teeth - 5SOS)

Getting handsy at the club/party - he doesn't even need those shots for the confidence, he already has enough. But something about the atmosphere gets him going. Is it the dim lighting? The smell of alcohol, sweat, and all those different perfumes mixed into one? Whatever it may be, he's definitely getting extra touchy. Rubbing your thigh while sitting in the booth, grabbing your waist to dance (not wrapping his hands around you, no - grabbing and squeezing it with his fingers), and all that jazz. Its almost like his hands have a mind of their own - he's far from the possessive type though. He just cant resist the inviting temptation to feel you with his hands.

Lewis Hamilton (renegade - aaryan shah)

Inappropriate thoughts during the wrongest moments - i dont have much explanation for this one, but it just makes sense. It does. Imagine listening to your boss talk about something incredibly boring. The conference is dragging on, on, and on. You can see someone napping, someone is doodling away in their notebook. Him? He's thinking about how he spent the night with you. He's thinking of how pretty your face looked, the tears smudging your mascara all over your cheeks, the pretty sounds you were making. And it was all for him. He quickly gets brought back to the earth as the boss calls his name. He's a lucky bastard though - he was always good at not letting his thoughts show on his face.

Lando Norris (monster - lady gaga)

Public fun - whatever the fun it might be. Anything ranging from caressing your waist in front of a group of people, to having sex in the most unconventional places ever. If there's even the smallest chance of getting away with it? He's doing it. And if the risk is even bigger? Even better. It excites him and turns him on like no other. The only thing thats more exciting about this is you, and the fact that he gets to do all those things to you, with you. Unlike Daniel - this little bitch is possessive as hell. He wont hesitate to give you hickeys where everyone can see them, while everyone can see.

Oscar Piastri (boyfriend - dove cameron)

Worshipping your partner - he's quiet, and he's kind of reserved. Doesnt mean that he's not as nasty as his teammate - just in a different way. He's more private. He'd enjoy being dominated by you, and only you, despite being a dom leaning switch himself. Youre his weakness, his royalty. You could be using him as a mere fucktoy, and he'd let you. He would also probably agree to a threesome with Lando - with the goal of being able to dominate and get dominated. He loved the idea of the whole focus going towards your pleasure - worshipping you.

George Russel (masterpiece - MIW)

The "face-off" - him sitting down on the edge of the bed, feet firmly on the ground, you straddling his lap. Youre grinding against each other, the room getting filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, and more and more of his moans. Most importantly? Youre staring into each others eyes. You enjoy watching him turn into putty underneath your touch. You find the way his big eyes look up at you pretty - so you cant resist the urge to ride him until he's actually crying, and cant think of anything else but of getting more. He kisses you as a distraction - its one of the sloppiest makeout sessions that you guys have ever had. But, dont lie to yourself - its one of your favourites as well.

Alex Albon (whore - in this moment)

Using toys - he isnt scared of a little "help" in the bedroom. This man is far from insecure, and it shows. He doesnt see it as a sign of weakness, if anything - he thinks that they help to show his skills and abilities better. He's a giver - he often finishes from giving you the pleasure only. He's also willing to try whatever you want to try - he feels honoured and even flattered that you trust him enough to voice your deepest fantasies. And he will do anything in his power to fulfill them - he wants to hear just how good you moan for him. His pretty princess.

Sebastian Vettel (sonne - rammstein)

Smiling - this man smiles, grins, and smirks through anything, to the point it can make you uneasy sometimes. He's praising you? He's smiling. He's dirty-talking into your ear in front of people? He's smiling. He'll do that anytime, anywhere. But his favourite reason to smile is hearing the sounds you make - he thinks of the fact that they were brought out of your mouth by him, and a smile just slips. The only moment where you can see that smile falter is when he's on his third or fourth orgasm - he simply cant focus on anything else but you and the way your body feels. "Thats it schatz, just like that" - and thats how you know that this man is far gone already.

Jenson Button (diggin' my own grave - FFDP)

Neck kisses - it almost feels like your neck is the staple of his life. He can and will snuggle into it and kiss it any chance he gets. Its not even always sexual - he sometimes does it subconsciously - but its definitely one of his favourite aftercare activities. And you havent complained once. You enjoy the feeling of his warmth lingering on the skin of your neck, and the way it gently tickles whenever he decides to rapidly attack it with the kisses. Your scent and your warmth feels comforting and almost hypnotising to him. But sometimes it just cant help but have the opposite of the calming effect on him - and a second round happens.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanart #formula one fanart #fanfiction #formula one fanfics #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #lando norris #oscar piastri #george russell #alex albon #sebastian vettel #jenson button

[felassan]

A former BioWare Design Director has tweeted his take on the recent BioWare and SW:TOR news. tweet compilation, as it's interesting and illuminating insight:

"My take on the SWTOR/BioWare split For SWTOR: This is a Good Thing For BioWare: This is a Big Loss A thread:

My point of view is someone who worked for BioWare Austin on SWTOR from 2009 as an Assistant World Designer through 2022 as Design Director (with some Anthem, Shadow Realms, and <NDA> years sprinkled about).

BioWare Austin (BWA) was its own studio for many years, founded in order to make that game. MMO’s are expensive, y’all.

We didn’t really collaborate with BioWare Edmonton (BWE) on the dev side much, because there was no need to (with some exceptions – they had built the original on-rails space shooting component, for example).

As a business, in this model all revenue and expenses roll up into the greater whole (BioWare), which then roll into EA’s Group, and so on.

After many years, this model shifted and changed, for a large variety of reasons I won’t get into. BWA would no longer be a separate entity, but under the same core leadership as BWE – One BioWare (BW).

What this meant realistically was you had a boxed product business that had been tried and true for years, combined with a live service MMO business that wasn’t really understood by the boxed product folks. Arguably by EA either, to be fair.

You see, MMO’s can be fairly predictable if they run long enough. We knew the SWTOR business very well. We knew how to turn every dollar invested in the game into several more. SWTOR was (and continues to be) a very profitable business, with loads of heart behind it.

But an older game isn’t sexy. It’s not new. It doesn’t get marketing orgs excited or social media teams jazzed. It’s a ‘legacy game’, despite the mountains of income coming in that other franchises are built off of.

And you FELT it, as a member of the team. It’s a fantastic dev team, filled with incredible talent. How then, with such a close-knit team, did you always feel less-than?

Well, just take a look around. Look at BW’s social media posts and count the proportion of SWTOR game/fan/anything posts compared to ME or DA. Remember that BioWare 25th anniversary book? The beautiful 328 page recollection of BioWare’s history, and celebration of all franchises?

For a game like SWTOR that had been live already for 9 of those 25 years at the time of publication, how many pages, dear reader, do you think had any SWTOR imagery or content at all? Ten. Teams notice this. They feel it, and it feels like shit.

Does BW despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – they don’t understand it, and it was someone else’s game. Does EA despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – it’s a legacy live service, and again, was someone else’s game.

As a dev on SWTOR, you feel like your game is a burden to all of the layers above you, but you persist. You put so much heart and passion into the game, and you thrive on the fans and tremendous partnership with LucasFilm.

So to bring us back to current news, imagine a team excited about a game, with incredible plans, that have felt ‘less-than’ by their own studio and company for years, being unleashed.

Being part of an org that KNOWS the MMO business, and understands those player communities and the incredible stories and connections they form.

This feels like an exciting new chapter to me, and I’m optimistic about what this means for that team and the game. SWTOR is, to the best of my knowledge, the longest-running Star Wars anything, ever. It’s a special game and I’m so happy to see where the team takes it.

As far as BW, it would have certainly be in their best interest as a business to maximize exposure and support for SWTOR publicly over the years, since the SWTOR revenue has allowed for the…unusually long…dev cycles to continue for the last several games.

But now without SWTOR, there will be less places to hide heads, R&D, and time. You’ve got blockbuster single-player experiences hitting high Metacritic scores with…2-3 year dev cycles? And the BW pattern has been…double? Triple that?

I think it will be interesting to see how the EA/BW relationship continues to evolve in this new world. /end"

[source]

#sw:tor #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #next mass effect #anthem #video games #long post #longpost

[oharamwah]

ଓ + — soft boyfriend headcanons

boyfriend!miguel x fem!reader

contents : fluuuufff and some nsfw, super messy and all over the place. i’m telling u this is so unstructured.

no heavy nsfw but suggestive themes under the cut

posted august 1st - to be edited !

© oharamwah, please do not steal my work.

i’m so down bad for this man and he isn’t even real but that means i get to make up whatever headcanons i like abt what it’d be like to date him 😋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ ｡･ﾟﾟ･･｡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ ｡･ﾟﾟ･｡⋆

♡ i just wanna get straight to the point — miguel’s kisses are soooo. mmph.

♡ he’s the type to keep things at a small peck when others are around or when you two are a little busy and on your feet

♡ like he’ll be at work like always and you’ll pop into his home office just to drop off a snack and he’ll pull you closer by your chin to kiss you DKSJDHSKLD

♡ and when he’s working from home and he’s in sweatpants (a rare sight for many) and he has his thin wiry dad glasses on oh my

♡ buuuut, but. this man knows how to kiss properly too

♡ also we all know miguel is bossy, and this applies both in and out of the workplace

♡ he is huuuuuge on princess treatment

♡ making sure you barely have to lift a finger to do anything when he’s around, especially during intimate hours

♡ he is big on aftercare, never wants you to feel any pain during or after sex. well, with some exceptions. all he wants is for you to feel good. so, if you ask him for a tummy massage or a back rub, he’ll do it no hesitation.

♡ like ok i’m not gonna make this an nsfw hc post but… spanking 🤗

♡ anyway.. he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to keep lots of baby wipes and deodorant and any girly things you’d need in a separate bathroom cupboard, exclusively for you and when you stay the night

♡ speaking of, refuses to let you pay for anything when you’re out shopping. say you walk by the department store and you remember that you ran out of pads or shampoo, he has it covered

♡ he’s just so… idk he loves taking care of you in every aspect.

♡ y’know when boyfriends carry their girlfriend’s bridal style when their high heels hurt their feet ?? yeah that’s miguel.

♡ again, he hates seeing you in any kind of pain. even if your shoulder bag is just a little too heavy, he’s got it

♡ always reminds you that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

♡ you’ll be getting ready for a fancy dinner party and you’re staring at yourself in the mirror feeling a little self conscious, poking and pinching at parts of your tummy, arms, anything you felt insecure about at the time

♡ and instead of letting you know that he saw you, he’d come up from behind you and just start showering you with compliments and butterfly kisses

♡ because the last thing he wants is for you to feel even more insecure because you got caught, he just wants you to know what he thinks about you

♡ “so pretty my angel, is that a new dress?”

♡ he’d ask, knowing he’s the one that bought it

♡ *kiss* “you do your makeup differently today?” *kiss* “i like it, honey.”

♡ AGGHH he’s just too sweet. he always knows how to make you feel comfortable.

♡ king of small kind gestures because even though he could compliment you and all that jazz, you find that he doesn’t really say “i love you” that often. instead, he shows it to you

♡ he knows exactly how you like your eggs, down to the amount of salt and pepper you use

♡ he also knows you like peeling your own oranges but you always struggle to start them, so he’d use his fangs to peel a little piece for you to peel from

♡ and he pre-slices all the lemons because he knows you like lemon water but you kinda suck at using knives

♡ if you leave your glasses/sunnies at his place, he’ll take it upon himself to clean them for you

♡ knows the kinds of snacks you like on movie nights so he stocks up on them, never leaving his pantry empty. no, he never eats snacks, but he knows you do <3

♡ he’s also the type to drive you out wherever and whenever you want. night drives, sunset viewing, anything you wanna do he’s willing to take you there. you’re his passenger princess!!

♡ also omg so random but i feel like he’s lowkey insecure of his fangs. like he knows they can be a bit intimidating and cause some worry, so whenever he smiles around you he tries to keep them inside but they just peek out his lips and it’s skfkskfj so cute

♡ and when he laughs he covers his mouth so sometimes you have to place your hand over his, and he’ll look at you all “what..?” and you’ll peel his hand back and be all cute about it

♡ “show me your smileee” and he gets all SHYYY

♡ he’s definitely the angry/grumpy shy with you, he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed about being shy or flustered but he also kinda enjoys the feeling

♡ sorry this is so unorganized but i just had another thought

♡ he’s just so familiar with being in the same bed as you by now that he can tell when somethings wrong just by the movements you’re making

♡ or if you’re shifting around a lot in your spot, he won’t say anything but he’ll grab onto your waist to let you know he’s there and he’ll pull you a bit closer so you feel more at ease

♡ AND EVEN IF YOU ARENT IN HIS BED, he’ll never go into your spot. that’s your spot. though he does take the pillow and hug it sometimes. sometimes..

♡ he even washes your pillowcase more often than he washes his sheets because he knows how particular you are about your skincare and haircare

♡ but he’s also super particular about his own hygiene, constantly freshening himself up with like spray deodorants and stuff. and a lot of mouth wash. he takes dental care very seriously.

♡ like he even reminds you to floss every night and prepares you a cup of mouth wash and seals it with a kiss hehdheh

♡ that man is so clean. deadass. he works so hard yes but he always makes sure to be clean because the last thing he wants is to be a loser that SMELLS bad (LOLLDFKMSM)

♡ you’re the only person he’ll listen to when it comes to bedtime

♡ he’s always being scolded by his colleagues to get more sleep because his under eyes are getting darker than a winter night sky

♡ but he always just brushes them off — unless it’s you

♡ he’s actually kinda nervous to make you upset. like he could never even dream of making you upset or mad at him he couldn’t handle that

♡ you two never argue, you only have very passionate debates

♡ you’re usually right in the end, and he accepts that. he just hates when you two disagree. so when apologizing for being stubborn and making you upset, he speaks in a way softer tone than he would anyone else. it’s a bit higher than his normal voice and it’s very airy, very comforting and apologetic

♡ he’s just such a softie for youuuu waoooowwww

♡ anyway i’m gonna post this and come back to it when i have new ideas instead of posting a bunch of separate ones <3 enjoy angels !

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fluff #i love miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara fanfiction #atsv fanfiction #miguel o’hara i love you #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara headcanon