#and the fact that I don’t think I would ever be marked by the spiral unless it was being bitch slapped for calling them a silly guy

[themagnusaghchives]

So something I’ve seen frequently in Michael drawings is his abdomen is like a slinky.

At which I propose to you that after he became the distortion Michael suddenly became really good at acrobatics.

I’m just picturing Sasha seeing him in the street and he’s just doing cartwheels down a sketchy side-street

I know he’s supposed to be scary but he sounds gay and his voice tickles my autism so he is therefore just silly

[kithtaehyung]

minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍🔥 note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva @aaclariww and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far? 

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy? 

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand. 

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs. 

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table. 

This man, though... 

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams? 

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.” 

Fuck. 

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question, 

“Do you remember yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” 

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea. 

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone. 

He still remembers it, too. 

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room. 

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not? 

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.” 

Your eyes blink thrice. 

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know? 

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.” 

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair. 

“So tell me.” 

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—” 

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?” 

Damn it. 

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales. 

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch. 

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.” 

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice? 

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..” 

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question. 

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over. 

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.” 

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.” 

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in. 

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave— 

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.” 

Oh, shit. 

Oh, shit. 

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?” 

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space. 

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm. 

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?” 

It takes you a second to process. 

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior. 

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close? 

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were. 

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?” 

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal. 

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying, 

“You really wanna know?” 

Looking up, you nod. 

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.” 

“His.. What?” 

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this? 

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.” 

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to… 

How naive. 

“His plan could’ve been solid.” 

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone. 

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.” 

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself. 

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter. 

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.” 

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?” 

“Someone he royally pissed off.” 

“Mm.” 

“You’re not gonna punish him?” 

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.” 

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore. 

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

Great. 

So much for being… Safe up… here… 

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again. 

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave? 

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.” 

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed. 

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders, 

“Can’t believe you used me.” 

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.” 

Fucking hell, he’s right. 

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.” 

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.” 

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared. 

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall. 

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.” 

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.” 

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not. 

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back. 

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe. 

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time. 

“Tell me more. About grey zones.” 

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?” 

“Yes.” 

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react. 

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets. 

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh. 

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely— 

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth. 

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs, 

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.” 

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.” 

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.” 

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.  

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly. 

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing. 

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans. 

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze. 

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.” 

“Why only in certain ones?” 

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.” 

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.” 

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain. 

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.” 

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.” 

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.” 

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place. 

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you. 

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along. 

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things. 

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle. 

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis. 

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment. 

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.” 

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.” 

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.” 

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer. 

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him, 

“But it’s helping.” 

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold. 

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.” 

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.” 

“I might.” 

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.” 

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?” 

Yoongi turns to look at your lips. 

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say. 

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this. 

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.” 

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.” 

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.” 

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing. 

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?” 

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance. 

“You tell me.” 

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating. 

You’ve never felt quite like this. 

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be. 

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before. 

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying. 

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over. 

And yet. 

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch. 

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him. 

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.” 

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.” 

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness. 

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second? 

“Since you what.” 

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip. 

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.” 

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was. 

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes. 

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over. 

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute. 

There was something you never circled back to. 

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered, 

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?” 

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.” 

“Prove it.” 

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire. 

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets. 

But because the motherfucker was right on the money. 

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know? 

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want. 

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning? 

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.” 

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?” 

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.” 

“Keep it.” 

What? 

“It’s yours.” 

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence. 

Who even is this man? 

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.” 

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.” 

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”  

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?” 

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.” 

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.” 

“You expect me to believe you?” 

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.” 

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.” 

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.” 

“But I want to.” 

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.” 

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod. 

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds. 

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started. 

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over. 

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city. 

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?” 

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.” 

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.” 

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.” 

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.” 

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else. 

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.” 

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.” 

“You never bothered me.” 

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.” 

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?” 

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.” 

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.” 

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.” 

“Where’s he at now?” 

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor. 

“Yoongi?” 

He turns. 

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer. 

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest. 

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown. 

“Not much to tell.” 

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in. 

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises. 

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips. 

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours. 

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops. 

Sounds muffle. 

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side. 

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door. 

It’s a phone ringing. 

A fucking. Telephone. 

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him. 

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved. 

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room. 

Shit. 

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up. 

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off. 

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim. 

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt. 

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse? 

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.” 

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.” 

“Nothing.” 

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade. 

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.” 

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger? 

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up. 

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns. 

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause. 

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid. 

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole. 

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat. 

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Say it and it’s yours.” 

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.” 

“How.” 

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…” 

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking. 

Tell him. Four words. 

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter. 

“So sensitive..” 

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.” 

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?” 

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing? 

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss. 

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease. 

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”  

“But what if someone—” 

“They won’t.” 

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side. 

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick. 

Your very, very wet slick. 

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices. 

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.” 

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth. 

Sucking. 

Licking. 

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars. 

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles. 

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want. 

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two. 

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point. 

“You good?” 

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.” 

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?” 

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.” 

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.” 

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by. 

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now. 

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real? 

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?” 

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move. 

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!” 

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover. 

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck! 

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other. 

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.” 

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like. 

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him. 

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name. 

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze. 

“Move your fucking hand.” 

Your eyes fling wide. 

“I wanna hear you.” 

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest. 

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes. 

“You’re gonna scream for me.” 

“Or else what.” 

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder. 

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.” 

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes. 

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” 

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed. 

Like a normal person. 

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms. 

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half. 

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent. 

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper, 

“I wanna see you.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor. 

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid. 

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent. 

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.” 

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.” 

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.” 

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.” 

…Huh? 

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.” 

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense. 

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.” 

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course. 

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.” 

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling. 

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else. 

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint. 

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you. 

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin. 

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward. 

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip. 

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.” 

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts. 

Fucking hell, this feels good. 

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off. 

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your  lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right. 

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.” 

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next. 

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.” 

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning. 

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare. 

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton. 

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.” 

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat. 

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall. 

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.” 

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out. 

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”  

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?” 

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.” 

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with. 

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.” 

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.” 

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied. 

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.” 

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.” 

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?” 

“Yes.” 

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.” 

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.” 

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses. 

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.” 

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.” 

“Good girl.”  

Wait, did he say again? 

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move. 

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs. 

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.” 

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank. 

Your laugh only spurns him on. 

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes. 

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go. 

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed. 

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.” 

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged. 

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.” 

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat. 

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward. 

“Just felt like calling you that.” 

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.” 

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it. 

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.” 

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.” 

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!” 

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest. 

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.” 

He can’t say stuff like that. 

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest. 

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling. 

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock. 

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck. 

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.” 

“Show me more then.” 

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours. 

“Just like that. There you go.” 

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you? 

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad. 

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.” 

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home. 

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise. 

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears. 

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.” 

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell. 

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives. 

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good? 

Both of you may feel the same. 

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you. 

It’s done. 

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller. 

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom. 

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever. 

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder. 

Was it all worth it? 

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have? 

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for. 

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp. 

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum. 

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.” 

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.” 

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself? 

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion. 

“What?” 

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.” 

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?” 

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.” 

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt. 

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily. 

And both of you groan so full. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry. 

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again? 

Holy fuck, again? 

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside. 

Was it all worth it? 

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case. 

But it’s okay. 

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for. 

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling. 

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away. 

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper, 

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.” 

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer, 

“S’ok.” 

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin. 

“Just stay on your side.” 

Ah. 

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night. 

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals. 

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows. 

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference. 

Don’t think too much about it. Do not. 

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...” 

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts. 

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact. 

“You’ll always hate me.” 

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in. 

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs. 

Did last night really happen? 

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so. 

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is. 

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one. 

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home? 

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean. 

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over. 

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes. 

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..” 

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants. 

Yoongi isn’t here. 

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts. 

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door? 

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths. 

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds? 

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder. 

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do. 

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture. 

What the hell is going on? 

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall. 

And his hair is strikingly… 

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!” 

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question, 

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?” 

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?” 

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

-

-

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[stvolanis]

can u write a smut which farleigh start has a breeding kink? i was so shy to ask but here we are...

Of course! don’t be shy, I love getting requests like this!

HOT & HEAVY

(a one shot)

PAIRINGS:Farleigh Start x reader

WARNINGS: foul language, clingy!Farleigh, pet names, fluff!

NSFW WARNINGS: breeding kink!!, cream pie, overstimulation, praise, light dumbification, cock warming

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Farleigh was more antsy than usual. More observing and jumpy.

He’d been this way ever since last nights party when his friend, Mark, had arrived with a 1 year old in his arms. Said he was babysitting, although a party full of drunken and strung out people didn’t sound like an ideal place.

So, that’s what made you take it upon yourself to care for the child that night while everyone else had fun. You didn’t mind at all, matter of fact, you were excited. You were amazing with kids, and you’d much rather be spending your time taking care of one than having a killer hangover the next morning.

Farleigh had watched silently as you bounced the 1 year old, who’s name he learned was Marceline, on your hip half the night. The way she would babble on and on while chewing on your fingers absentmindedly while you casually talked to other people. The little giggles the little girl let out when you’d tickle her stomach, the smiles on both of your faces adoring.

Then it got him thinking.

What if that was his baby that you were holding instead? The one he’d only ever dreamed of having with you? How great of a mother you would be; naturally so caring and loving, kindness a default in your tender nature.

So of course it was the only thing spiraling in Farleighs’ mind for nearly 2 weeks since it happened.

Then his mind drifted off to….other things.

How beautiful you’d look swollen, full of his seed. Breasts sore, tender to the touch and full of milk he’d selfishly want to keep to himself. Everyone would know you were his, how could they not? He would be within 4 feet of you at all times if you’d fallen pregnant. The ‘scary guard dog’ over your shoulder, yet staring at you with the upmost love.

but you, innocent little you, were completely unaware of this.

So you gasped in shock when Farleigh had taken it upon himself to bend you over the kitchen counter when you were trying to make chocolate chip muffins.

You wore a baby pink robe with nothing but lilac laced panties underneath. “Baby, what—“ you started, but you were hushed by the feeling of his cock pressed against your already dampening cunt. “You little fuckin’ minx. Don’t know what you do to me, love.” He whispered in your ear.

You heard his pants drop to the floor behind you, and he pushed your panties to the side, lining his tip that was laced with pre-cum to your throbbing entrance that was clenching around nothing.

You whimpered as he pushed his fat tip in before filling you to the brim full of his cock. He was freakishly long, the biggest you’d ever taken the only cock you’ve ever taken, he was at least 8 inches, maybe a little more.

You could feel his tip kiss your cervix and your mouth hung agape, breathless as he began to relentlessly pound into you. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust he delivered, and his hands gripped at your waist harshly, yet the angel kisses he delivered to your shoulders were gentle.

“Gonna fill you, baby. Gonna stuff you so full, you’re gonna look so so pretty when I’m done with you, honey.” He nearly whimpered out. Your cunt was spasming around him, and he knew you liked the idea by the way you clamped down onto him. You were so tight around him, he felt like he was gonna lose his mind if he couldn’t rut himself into you.

Farleigh was like a bitch in heat; and he was no better than you in this position. He was equally as a mess as you were. Both of you moaning uncontrollably, gripping at anything just to hold yourselves stable. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head when his fingers met your clit.

He rolled your bundle of nerves between his fingers harshly, adding just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. He was using you like a fleshlight, a cocksleve that was made specifically for him. And the worst best part about it? You had absolutely no complaints.

You’d gladly let your needy boy use you anytime he wanted to if it meant getting your brains fucked out.

He gently craned your neck back by your hair “Gonna make you a mommy. Yeah? You want that? You wanna make me a daddy, sweetheart?” He asked against your lips. You whimpered and whined, his cock still drilling into you at an alarming rate. “Y-yesss, oh fuck! Farleigh! Whatever you want!” You all but yelled out.

He somehow managed to let out a half-assed chuckle in amusement. “Nearly fucked my baby dumb, I think. Don’t even know what you’re agreeing to.” He said as he held your face back down against the marble countertop. The way he towered over you, and overpowered without even trying is what had you tumbling over the edge with a loud moan.

You released all over him, his happy trail becoming sticky with your cum. But he wasn’t finished, hell, he hasn’t even had his release yet, but the way your cunt ached around him trigged it.

He shot his hot, sticky seed deep into your fertile womb with a satisfied groan. “I’ve fucked a baby into you now, yeah?” He asked, condescendingly. You were on too much of a high to even process the words the taller man was saying to you.

You felt him pick you up, and somehow turn you around on his cock, now facing him as he carried you to the couch. He sat down with you still on him, and began rubbing slow circles onto your numb clit.

You whined as you dropped your head onto his shoulder. “S’too much, Farleigh!” You whimpered out, but your pleas fell to deaf ears. “Shh, I know, baby. Just gotta make sure you stay nice n’ full of my cum.” He whispered out as he rubbed his hand up and down your back with his free hand soothingly.

“My good girl, hm? Takin my cock so well, princess.” He said as he kissed the top of your head. You nodded, still clinging onto him like your life depended on it.

Your eyes felt heavy with sleep as your boyfriend trailed his kisses down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. You were half awake, having your second orgasm as his fingers began to toy with your clit more feverishly.

Your swollen bud aching painfully, yet somehow still feeling so good just from his skilled fingers. “M’gonna cum again, Farleigh!” You moaned out as you humped yourself against his fingers at the same pace he was toying with you.

“Just let it happen, baby. So good f’me.” He cooed in your ear as you felt yourself squirt all over him for a second time. He groaned as he felt your juices slide down his cock. It was such a pretty sight.

You stuffed so full of his cock and cum, whimpering and helpless as you sat on him. The way your cunt squelched when you’d attempt to get off, yet Farleighs rough hands held you down.

You fell asleep in his arms, his cock still planted in you. Farleighs only hope was that you’d wake up with morning sickness, and if you didn’t, he’d have no problem fucking you everyday till you did.

Sure enough, after 2 weeks of the both of you fucking like rabbits every damn day, you’d finally fallen pregnant with your first child, and you and Farleigh couldn’t be any happier.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

TAG LIST: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @luxuriouslokistan-3

[jaeyums]

Just One More (Part 11)

Pairings - Fratboy!Haechan x reader (lowkey x dreamies)

Word Count - 3k

Content Warning - smut (obvi), angst, slight corruption kink, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving). fingering, drinking, loss of virginity, Fratboy! Haechan (kinda), Toxic!Haechan, mentions of drowning (what??) pls Imk if I missed anything

Summary - You curse your new neighbours for partying what feels like every night, the booming bass making it impossible to sleep. Fed up, you finally ask them to turn it down, but when you're forced to make a seemingly harmless deal, things spiral faster than you ever could've imagined.

A/N - part two yippeee :3 sorry it was so late loll

previous | next

————————————————————————

You slowly open your eyes, immediately closing them again in pain as your head throbs.

“Holy fuck.”

Is all you’re able to say, as you try again to open your eyes, your vision slightly blurry. You reach for where your water bottle sits on your nightstand, only to find an empty space.

You continue to feel around the nightstand only for your eyes to fully adjust, and for you to realize this night stand is black rather than the off white colour you’re used to.

This shock wakes you up fully in a matter of seconds, and you look around an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed.

“Holy fuck.”

You repeat, the reality of your situation setting in. After a moment of processing, you quickly toss away to sheets, and sigh in relief as you see that all your clothes from the previous night are still on.

You check the other side of the bed hesitantly, patting on a puffy part of the blanket, only for it to sink down upon your touch.

Saying a small thank you to the universe, you climb out of the bed, and walk towards the door. You wrap your hands around the handle and push.

It doesn’t budge.

You twist and push again, still nothing. You try again with your whole body weight pressing against the door, only to here a groan come from the other side.

“Fuck, give me a second, would ya.”

A grumpy voice can be heard through the door.

“Haechan?”

You ask tentatively. Opening the door with ease after hearing a body shuffle out of the way.

“In the flesh.”

He says leaning against the other side of the hallway.

“Why did you sleep outside?”

“I knew you’d end up in my bed eventually , but I excepted me to be joining you. So I think the better question is why did you sleep inside, inside my room. ”

You tilt your head, that is a good question actually. You try to think back to last night, only for the sinking realization that you can’t remember much past the game of truth or dare.

“Oh god, what happened last night.”

Your voice slightly panicked. So many different scenarios start flipping through your head, like a disturbing film reel.

He just laughs looking entertained and surprisingly handsome for someone who slept on the floor all night.

“Does this mean you don’t remember our deal? Tsk tsk, I’m disappointed. No worries though, I remember the deal, so it’s no issue.”

“You made a deal with me while I was blacked out? You totally took advantage of me.”

He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“If I actually wanted to take advantage of you, I could’ve. You were a mess.”

His words sting, a darkness in his eyes almost consuming you. Though, when he sees your face drop even more, he sighs, rolling his eyes in annoyance and starts to explain.

“Not that long after truth or dare you locked yourself in here and told me to guard the door ‘with my life’.”

Now you look more confused than upset.

“Why would I do that?”

You wonder aloud.

“If I had to guess, it might’ve been from the fact that everyone here wanted to talk to you. Jaemin, Jeno, Chenle, Mark. You won’t alone for more than a second before someone wanted to steal you away.”

Something hangs between the lines as he speaks, a negative emotion your hungover state can’t place it’s finger on.

“Okay…so what was the deal?”

You’re almost scared to ask.

“That you’ll come to my next party.”

He smiles widely, he finds himself hilarious.

“Are you serious.”

“Dead, but the next one isn’t here, it’s at my parents’ house. They’re gone for the weekend and the pool there is sick.”

“A pool party?”

He nods, pushing himself off the wall to move closer to you.

“Now how about you scamper on home. You’ve had a long night.”

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

The next day while on facetime with your friend, you decide to tell her about the party. She’s half listening while doing her makeup, but when you mention Haechan she freezes.

“Wait did you say Haechan? Like Lee Haechan? Tall? Black hair? Sarcastic? Sexy?”

“Uh yeah? Why?”

You ask confused, but by the expression on her face, your know whatever your friend is about to say is bad news.

“Y/n he is a known fuckboy. Like he’s in a frat for godsake. You need to be careful around him, I’m serious.”

You roll your eyes annoyed.

He’s Mr. pump and dump, smash and dash, ejaculate and evacu-“

“okay okay I get it, thank you,”

You cut her off, getting the message loud and clear.

“I wasn’t planning on getting with him, don’t worry. He couldn’t get close even if he tried.”

“Didn’t you just say you blacked out and slept in his bed.”

“Okay shut up, it won’t happen again.”

She nods, looking unconvinced. You two continue to chat until you get another call, this time from an unsaved number.

“Wait I’m getting a call, gimme a sec.”

You answer the call bringing your phone to your ear.

“Hello? This is y/n right?”

“Uh yes, speaking?”

“It’s me, don’t get too excited.”

You sigh, his familiar voice teasingly heard through the phone.

“How did you get my number, Haechan.”

“You gave it to me when you were drunk.”

“No I didn’t.”

There’s a long pause.

“…I got it off Jisung’s phone.”

That definitely makes more sense, you know you were black out, but there was no chance you would have given Haechan your number.

“I’m just calling to make sure you’re still coming to the party tonight? I’m already at the place getting stuff ready, it’s gonna be lit.”

“Do I have to go?”

You whine, hoping he’ll take some sympathy on you from how tired you sound.

“Yup! See you then.”

You hear a long tone, signalling he’s hung up. Fine, you’ll go to his pool party, but he never said anything about actually swimming. You do enough of that at work anyways.

Calling back your friend, you quickly update her on who called and what he said. She gave you a worried look, warning you again to be careful.

With the closet doors swung open, you start shifting through your clothes trying to pick an outfit. You get an idea, turning back to your phone.

“Wait, why don’t you just come with me? That way you can keep an eye on this whole Haechan thing and we can have fun for once.”

“Can’t I have an opening shift tomorrow.”

You groan in response, turning back to your closet in defeat.

“Whatever I didn’t even want you to go anyways.”

You tease.

The two of you continue to joke around, her giving you advice on what to wear and you modelling your options.

You end up settling on short denim shorts, paired with a white baby tee. With everything said and done, you tell her good bye before grabbing your keys and heading out to the party

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

The house is bigger than you ever would’ve imagined and it is jumping. This party was massive, especially compared to his previous party. People had gathered all over the property, some on the front lawn, some on a balcony up above you head.

You shift your weight between your feet, suddenly feeling nervous. Once again you feel the need to find Haechan, rationalizing your thoughts by saying it’s only to ensure he knows you held up your side of the deal. You were an hour late so he’s probably wondering where you are, right?

You’re barely two steps into the house when you hear someone call your name.

“Y/n! Get your ass over here, love.”

Jeno stands next to Chenle and Mark, the three of them already holding red solo cups.

“Go grab a drink.”

Jeno gestures with his head towards where the kitchen must be located. You shake your head with an awkward smile.

“I can’t drink, and I’m serious this time. I drove here.”

The boys look a little disappointed but nod in understanding. They continue to talk amongst each other, but you can’t listen, your eyes scanning the crowd nonstop.

Mark interrupts your search with a smirk.

“Looking for someone special?”

He teases, but you can tell he already knows who your dying to see.

“He’s outside, near the pool.”

With that you say goodbye, telling them you’ll be back in a bit, and head off towards the backyard.

The music is just as loud outside as it is inside, your ears still not fully adjusted. The pool itself is quite big as well, although there are very few people actually swimming. Most of them just sitting along the edge talking, only dipping there feet in.

The familiar smell of chlorine tickles your nose and you do a quick scan of the pool, simply out of habit when you notice a boy bobbing a bit in what you assume to be the deep end.

“Oh god please don’t actually be drowning.”

You whisper to yourself, your eyes still locked onto him, he was clearly struggling but you were having a hard time figuring out if it was just a prank or if he was really sinking.

Suddenly his head dips bellow the surface and doesn’t return, and you spring into action, running to the edge closest to him and diving in.

Under the water you can see him, still struggling, but his eyes slowly closing. You hook your arms around his, securing him in your grasp, and pinching his nose with your other hand. You kick back to the surface, your lungs starting to burn.

Returning to the surface, you see a couple boys waiting at the edge, you shout instructions to them as you tow the boy in their direction.

Ordering them on how to lift him out, you plunge back into the water, sitting the boy on your shoulder. You tap the deck three times, signalling to the boys to pull him up, and you push him upwards as hard as you can.

They drag him away from the pool and you climb out quickly, following them. You’re fully locked in, having done this a hundred times.

Sitting next to him as he coughs, you run through your typical checklist. He turns out to be relatively fine, just a stupid victim of drinking and swimming, something that should never mix.

As you continue to talk to him, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Haechan staring at you with such intensity you almost flinch.

“I saw everything, are you okay?”

“Of course, I mean it’s always a little scary but I’m fine. I’m more worried about him.”

“He’s fine, just an idiot. Here, let’s get you dried off.”

You now remember that you’re not actually wearing your guarding uniform. Looking down, you realize your white shirt has become completely see through, sticking to your body, your red bra on full display.

“Yeah okay, thank you.”

With that he grabs your hand and leads you through the party to his bedroom upstairs, weaving between people in crowded places.

“This is my room, head inside. I’ll be right back.”

You open the door hesitantly, turning back for his reassurance, but he has already disappeared. You walk inside to see his room is surprisingly neat. It’s pretty big too, with posters lining his walls, he even has a balcony that overlooks the backyard.

You notice a mirror attached to his closet and walk over to see how much of a mess you look right now. Your mascara is ruined, running down your face like you just watched the saddest movie ever. You hair is soaked, it looks almost intentionally slicked back, except for a stray strand or two.

While fussing with it, you hear the door open, but you pay Haechan no mind as he enters, closing the door behind him. You’re much too occupied fixing your hair.

He comes behind you, brining his head next to yours, staring at your reflection with darkened eyes.

“You look so pretty.”

He whispers, bringing his hand around the opposite side of your head to smudge some of the black staining your cheeks.

“What I wouldn’t give to make your mascara run like this”.

You feel your face heat up, your stomach doing a flip from to his words and touch. You swat his hand away, turning your face.

“Shut up, Haechan.”

He just smirks, and hands you a folded towel. You hastily take it and walk over to his connected bathroom. You lock the door behind you and undress.

The shower itself is heavenly. The water on your skin had became cold, so the heat of the water pouring down felt amazing. You wash your hair and do your best to rid your face of the racoonish look it’s taken.

You finally finish, wrapping the towel just below your shoulders once you’re dry. You reach for your clothes before realizing they’re still soaked. It had completely slipped your mind that you’d need new clothes.

You tentatively open the door, peaking your head around the room. You see Haechan laying on his bed, scrolling on his phone absentmindedly. You call out to him, and he looks up, his eyes instantly devouring you.

“I uh, could I borrow some clothes? Mine are still wet.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, still taking you in. Finally, he gets up, and walks over to his closet.

“Lemme see what I have, I might have some old sweatpants that might fit.”

He ends up picking black sweat pants and a matching black long sleeve, tossing both to you. You catch them with one hand, not daring to let go of the towel.

Slipping back into the bathroom, you quickly change. You check out your new outfit in the bathroom mirror. Both items are way too big for you. Even though the shirt is massive it somehow still hugs the curves of your breasts. You don’t love the fact that you have nothing on underneath Haechans clothes.

You step back into his room where he’s waiting for you.

“How do the pants fit?”

You pull up the shirt slightly with one hand, and pull up the sweats with the other, before dropping them, demonstrating how they drop down landing just below your hip bones.

“What do you think?”

You ask sarcastically. He let’s out a little laugh at your demonstration, stepping closer.

“Here let me help.”

He grabs the waist of the pants, rolling them up once then twice. His fingers ghosting your bare waist in the process. When he finishes, his hands still remain. You can’t help but hyper focus on his touch, on how his warm hands feel on your skin.

Tension fills the air. You look up at him, meeting his gaze. There’s another pause, and you can’t take it anymore.

“Kiss me already.”

You whisper, it’s barely audible, you would’ve wondered if he had even heard you if he hadn’t already dipped down, meeting your lips with his.

His grip on your waist tightens as he pushes you against the wall, his leg moving to find home between yours.

Your mouths move together unison, you feel yourself falling deeper in his trance. Though, there’s still a small whisper in your head, reminding you of your friends words, her warning.

Before you can pay attention to it, Haechan starts to push your body down on his thigh, guiding you to grind slowly against it. His kisses moving to your neck, causing you to tilt your head back on the wall in pleasure.

A hand snakes up your waist to rest on your breast, his thumb running over your bud delicately. A small moan escapes your lips, and you swear you can feel him smile against the skin of your neck.

He continues to attack your neck, his hand squeezing and massaging your breast rhythmically.

You pull his head back up by his chin to kiss him, your lips were feeling lonely.

He picks you up, and your legs wrap instinctually around his waist. He carries you to his bed, laying you down gently.

His arms resting on either side of your head, he looks down on you like you’re a feast for kings and he is starving.

He gives you quick but deep kiss, before moving down your body. His hand moves to the waist of your sweatpants, but you grab it before he can slide them down your legs.

“Haechan.”

You say breathlessly, staring down at him with puppy-like eyes.

“Yes, y/n?”

“I..I don’t want to move too fast.”

He looks up at you, a smirk slowly growing on his face. Your innocence is so cute to him.

“Don’t worry princess, you don’t have to move at all. I’ll do all the work.”

He teases, but he still doesn’t move, waiting for your approval to continue.

You bite your lip. Your friend’s warning ringing through your head again.

Fuck it, just one more night with Haechan can’t hurt.

————————————————————————

tags : @snflwrhaerecs4u @ki-aechan @loveforred @whiplashhhh @miniminkis @milimo07 @neocityhoe @90s-belladonna @toroufriteh @renjunniex @chimiwimi @cas104 @dongsookie0606

[peachy-panic]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time (pt. 3)

Takes place directly after this.

WARNINGS: BBU, power dynamics, talk of corrupt prison system, past noncon

The mug of tea that Ezra made for Jaime sits, cooling and untouched, on the coffee table. Jaime has opted for a spot on the rug, curled in on himself with his knees hugged tight to his chest. Sebastian and Ezra follow suit, of course, sinking down across from him, but it doesn’t escape anyone’s notice—his instinct to place himself on the floor. At least he isn’t kneeling anymore.

Sebastian aches at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, at the hollowness in his voice, at the memory of him shaking and terrified on the hardwood, forever seared into his temporal lobe. He aches to make this right, and he prays, helplessly, that he hasn’t just watched every brick they’ve laid together crumble before their eyes. 

“Would you like to ask us anything, Jaime?” Ezra begins, and Sebastian is once again grateful to have him here, ever the voice of reason.

Jaime’s swallow is loud enough to sound painful. “You don’t have to explain yourselves to me.”

He’s so closed off like this, even harder to read than usual. Is it resentment in his voice, or defeat? Sebastian doesn’t know how to reach him. 

“I rather think we do,” Ezra counters.

Jaime looks quickly to Sebastian, then down at his knees. “I don’t know what to ask.”

“Okay,” Ezra accepts easily, and Sebastian chimes in with an encouraging nod. “Would it be alright if I asked you a question? With the caveat that you do not have to answer.”

“Okay,” he agrees without looking up. 

“Has Julian—has Handler Hernandez—ever hurt you?”

Jaime’s eyes snap to him then, surprised. Ezra must spot the impending panic that Sebastian sees as well, because he raises a palm to clarify. “I know the rules against speaking about your training. I hope that you can still trust that we will never betray your confidence, but as I said, you don’t have to answer.”

“You…” Jaime begins, then falters. “But he’s your friend. Why would you believe me?”

Sebastian feels like he’s been shot in the chest. 

“You are my friend, too,” Ezra says easily. 

“Your word means everything to me, Jaime,” Sebastian adds. Those brown eyes turn on him, and maybe it’s just wishful thinking that they aren’t quite as guarded this time. “I will always believe you.”

Jaime stares at him. His gaze has never felt so heavy, as if he’s trying to see past the layers of Sebastian’s skin in search of the truth in his promise. Then, slowly, his eyes go unfocused. 

The silence goes on long enough to worry Sebastian. A hundred different possibilities come to mind, spiking his blood pressure. The idea that Jaime is bracing himself to tell them that Julian is, in fact, one of the monsters in his nightmares makes Sebastian want to peel out of the house after him and put his hands around his throat. It doesn’t matter that Julian could probably break Sebastian in half on a good day. If Jaime even implies that Julian has been hiding behind his history with the resistance as a means of abusing trainees under the radar, Sebastian will fucking—

“He didn’t,” Jaime says quietly, pulling Sebastian back to earth. “I… He… He isn’t my primary. We didn’t interact all that often, but when we did…” He shakes his head. “He wasn’t one of the handlers who crossed a line.”

Handlers, plural.

He doesn’t even think that Jaime is aware of the word choice that has sent Sebastian spiraling all over again. Multiple handlers. Multiple handlers have “crossed a line” with Jaime in that facility, a few hundred feet away from where Sebastian works. It’s not… He can’t call it a surprise. He remembers clearly the day in the clinic showers, seeing fresh bruises on Jaime’s skin, marked in places that left no room for questions. And the day in the facility bathrooms, when Sebastian walked in just as a handler was walking out, leaving Jaime alone in a stall. 

And, of course, he has had suspicions about Smith from the day he met him. Watching the way he interacts with his trainees is telling of what might happen behind closed doors. But hearing it out loud sits heavy in his chest. More than ever, he wants to burn that building to the ground with every handler locked inside. 

“That’s… good,” Sebastian manages, even though it’s a disgraceful choice of word.

Ezra nods in agreement, though. “I didn’t expect that he would have, but I wanted to hear it from you,” he says. “I have known Julian Hernandez for a long time, Jaime. I understand how it looks to you right now, but he is a good man.”

“He is one of them.” Jaime looks to Ezra when he says it, a fire in his eyes he has never shown Sebastian, wouldn’t dare turn on the person who holds his contract (or someone he also considers one of them—did he mean handlers or anyone who works there? That’s a spiral for later).

“Yes,” Ezra says evenly. “Officially, he is. And if he wasn’t, I never would have escaped.”

A stunned silence falls over them. Sebastian didn’t know that, either. 

Ezra reaches up to run a finger over the raised scar behind his ear, then looks from Sebastian to Jaime. “He helped remove the tracker himself,” he says. “Without him, we couldn’t have kept the removal undetected. It’s designed to be a bulletproof plan—it can’t be done without someone on the inside taking a risk. He never hesitated to help me.”

Jaime, mirroring him, raises a hand to touch the spot behind his ear where his own tracker is embedded in his skull. Sebastian’s stomach turns at the reminder, and he watches something like terror and wonder pass over his expression. 

“His story is a complicated one,” Ezra says. “I would like to tell you about it, if you’d like to hear it.” 

Jaime nods, and Sebastian leans in, just as eager to hear.

“Julian was in prison before I knew him,” Ezra begins. “He grew up in less than ideal circumstances and got wrapped into the wrong crowd. They got him into a lot of trouble when he was young, but it was all he knew. He was in and out of juvenile detention, and when he turned eighteen, he got a charge that stuck. He was sentenced to twenty years in prison.”  

Sebastian thinks about the playful way Aria nudges her shoulder against Julian’s when they’re together at the table, the way Julian moves so carefully around Ezra, as if he knows his very presence could be a trigger. Sebastian has been wary of him from the beginning, but even still, it’s hard to picture him as a hardened criminal. 

“This all happened right around when WRU was at its most precarious,” Ezra continues. “After the uprisings and public outrage against the Romantic sectors and the stories of extreme abuse coming to light. They were struggling to recover their image enough to stay afloat until the tides turned back in their favor, and they were specifically struggling to employ handlers. Nobody wanted to risk their reputation like that. They tried offering generous sign-on bonuses and increased salaries, but it still wasn’t enough to get them back where they needed to be. 

“Someone had the idea to create a pipeline from the prisons—a program that would train inmates who showed particular strengths and promise to become handlers as part of a contracted term, as an alternative to serving their time. Julian was one of them.”

Ezra looks from Jaime to Sebastian, clocking their looks of mirrored surprise. 

“I know that doesn’t make him clean,” he says. “It was a difficult situation, but it was still a choice that he made. For what it’s worth, he didn’t know much about the system at the time. And more to the point, he regretted it from day one. But backing out of the contract would have added ten years to his sentence. So he stayed.

“Aria met him within his first year. Really, she tracked him down. Pursued him. She had been searching for me for years. She knew I had disappeared into the system—that’s a story for another day. And she knew she needed someone on the inside to get me out. Julian was her way in. The way Aria tells it, he jumped at the chance. By then, he was eager for any way to make a bigger impact for the people suffering in that place.” He turns to Sebastian. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Is that…?” They both turn at the sound of Jaime’s voice. He shrinks back a little at the attention, then clears his throat. “Sorry. Never mind.”

“What is it?” Sebastian says gently.

He opens his mouth, lips moving as he tries to form the words. He can’t look directly at Sebastian when he says, “Is that why you started working there? Because you wanted to help?”

(Okay, so it’s a spiral for right now).

Sebastian blinks. Behind his eyelids, he sees a flash of memory—nearly a year ago, lying on the floor of his apartment with a bottle of wine and an open laptop, looking at the job listing that would change his life forever—and he feels so pathetic. 

He has this sick feeling that if he told Jaime that his reasons for applying were entirely selfless, only for the purposes of helping from the inside, he would believe him. 

Sure, it was always his intention to help as much as he could once he was there, but he knows it would be a magnanimous lie to say it was anything but fear that led him to the WRU website that night. His grace period for loans was up and he was stuck without a job, completely alone in the world. Desperate was the word he would have used for that night. That was before he met people like Jaime, who taught him what real desperation looked like. How could he look him in the eye and say that now?

“I was never trying to be a hero,” he says finally. “I wish I could tell you something different. I guess…” He swallows. “I guess, like Julian, I always intended to help, but it started with a self-serving motivation. I can’t pretend otherwise.”

As the words leave his mouth, he feels so small. Now it is he who has to look down. Somewhere in the course of the past few months, Jaime has become the most important person in his life. He finds it impossible to face his judgment

“Thank you,” Jaime says, surprising him. “For being honest.”

Sebastian shakes his head, feeling a little nauseous. “Please,” he says. “Don’t… don’t thank me.”

“I…” Jaime looks at him, hesitating, then seeming to draw strength from the silent approval on his face. “I never knew what to make of it. Of you being in that place. Sometimes I still…” He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “When you come home, I can smell it on you. That place. And it… It’s hard.”

Guilt eats through his stomach lining, threatening to dissolve him entirely where he sits. I’m going to quit, the thought comes to his head without hesitation. I will quit tomorrow. Right now. I will email in my resignation, no two weeks, no notice. I will never violate Jaime’s home, his safe space, with that nightmare again.

But it’s not that simple, is it? Without his connection to that place, will he jeopardize his chances of renewing Jaime’s contract? Without another job lined up right away, will he be able to pay for it? And what happens to the dozens of other patients he will leave to Greer’s cruel hands?

This isn’t the kind of decision he can make in a split second of emotion. Not anymore. 

From now on, though, he will shower before he leaves work. He will bring an extra pair of clothes and only leave them in the car to change. He can do that much at least. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian says.

“But you did help me,” Jaime says. “You do, I mean, presently. Obviously. I’m… I’m here. But back then, I mean. In the facility. You helped me so much.”

“It never felt like enough.”

“It was everything to me.” The intensity in his words draws Sebastian’s eyes back to his. “You kept me alive in that place. I’m glad you were there.”

It’s hard to take the words at face value when some part of him fears that Jaime is saying them out of some sense of obligation. But the worst thing he can do now is take any more agency away from Jaime by discounting anything he has to say. 

Before he can respond, though, Jaime asks, “You really would have believed me? If I told you that Handler—that your friend had hurt me?”

That requires no hesitation on Sebastian’s part. “I would have killed him myself.”

Jaime stares at him for a few seconds, nods, then finally wraps his hands around the cup of tea on the coffee table. Surely it’s cooled to room temperature by now, but he looks content as he takes a sip. 

“I’d like to say one more thing,” Ezra adds, gracefully ushering himself back into the conversation. “Jaime, nobody brought you here, into this circle, with explicit intentions of doing anything except making you comfortable and happy. Nobody is here to pressure you in any direction, especially with something as risky as this.” Ezra leans forward, fixing him with an earnest stare. “But you need to know that if you said the word, we would move mountains to get you out.”

****

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[biggothbelly]

You know, I've watched you spiral out of control for years at this point. I remember first finding you back in 2016. None of us really knew it then because you were so much smaller in comparison to the mass of lard you are now, but you were already too far gone to go back. Year after year, I watched you shovel endless amounts of calories down your throat, blowing your poor belly up so many times with a disgusting amount of food on such a regular and consistent basis, that there was no question that you were gonna get huge. However, I don't think anyone knew just how far you'd take it. I mean, look at you. Every ounce of your body is covered in fat. That tiny gut was forced to blow up into the massive, turgid, hanging food balloon we see it as today. You've forever ruined your skin and put so many deep, long, eye-catching stretch marks on your fucking gut. You've grown into nothing but a walking garbage disposal, and I'm sure you could easily outeat several grown men and still be begging for more food. The most shocking part is the fact that even though you're so close to 300 lbs, your greedy ass still wants to keep going. What's it gonna take to stop you? 300? 400? 500? What number could possibly scare you at this point? 600? 700? 800? I mean, if you're gonna go that far, you might as well just make a spectacle of yourself and go for an even 1000 lbs of pure blubber and lard. You'd be more relatable to a whale than a human at that point, especially with how much grease and junk it would take just to make you feel not hungry. No, not full, definitely not stuffed to the gills, but just enough so you can go without eating for more than 20 minutes. Let's just face it, you're fucked. You were fucked the moment you willingly decided to stuff your face for the first time because you wanted to see how good it would feel. Now look at you. You're an ever-growing blob that's just can't help themselves. You're never gonna try to lose the weight because you love being a fat slob so fucking much. You love how good it feels to eat and eat and eat until your stomach is begging you to stop and the weight of your poor, overfilled gut is pinning you down, so you couldn't even get up to get more food if you tried. I'd love to see you try to prove me wrong, but we all know you wouldn't last a day trying to lose weight.

This is the most inspiring ask I’ve ever received hehe tbh reading this made me hungryyyyy idk what I’ve done to myself tbh 😅 if went from something fun and every now and then to having to constantly feed my belly bc I’m always hungry and always so lazy I barely want to get up. I’ve given myself quiteeee the food addiction at this point all I ever do is think about eating and growing this belly. The idea of ever having to lost weight scared me bc I know I couldn’t handle it and I don’t think my belly would let me 😳😵‍💫 it’s hard lifting this gut around daily it’s so heavy my back and knees hurt all the time and a new thing I noticed is that my hips are starting to hurt when I walk. Now walking is getting harder and harder 🐖 I always feel like I have to sit my fat ass down. Who knows maybe one day I’ll be on my 600 pound life 🥴🫠 I have a seriousssss problem it seems hehe and you guys keep enabling me hehehe

[ghostbeam]

charcoal artist!dabi x reader, first meeting, takes place before the other drabbles, he is a bit of a creep, his feelings sort of boarder on obsession, dabi is taller than you, suggestive language at the very end but it’s barely anything

He’s staring at you.

Eye’s flickering in between you and the spiral sketchbook in his lap. Concentrated, eyebrows furrowed, hand flying furiously across the page. You aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him before with his dark hair sticking in all different directions, black boots heavy on the grass, sapphire eyes piercing, lost in you, in the page. No one’s ever looked at you like this, you think. 

You’re trying to be discreet, looking back down at your book when you see his eyes rise from the page. You’re not retaining a single bit of information as you’re suddenly focused on what he might think of you, how much of you he’s noticed, if you’re sitting weird, if your face looks wrong while reading. You think he’s cute, pretty, almost delicate, all eyelashes. 

You turn the page, not having read the previous one, and then look back up at him. Except this time, your eyes meet. Your breath hitches. It’s a little bit electrifying, paralyzed by his stare like you’re the one who got caught instead of the other way around.

Dabi feels his jaw fall open slightly at the sight of you, staring straight at him. Had you seen him? Did you know? He watches you close your book, not even checking to mark your place. You stand up, still looking at him. Dabi feels his heart drop to his stomach. You’ll call him a creep. You’ll run away. 

“Can I see?” He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed you getting closer. You’re all he can focus on, but you’ve surprised him. Can I see? Dabi thinks about the first time he saw you, right under that same tree, some text book bigger than his body sat in your lap. He felt the breath knocked out of him like some lovesick sap, not like himself. He didn’t even know you, but god, he wished for you. He did, like some idiot standing in the middle of the walkway closing his eyes and wishing on nothing, wishing on, well, you. 

Standing in front of him now, he sees now more than he ever has before that you’re every piece of art he’s ever loved all wrapped up in one. One portrait of you would be enough to satisfy him for a life time.

Only that’s not true, because he hasn’t been able to stop drawing you. It’s not enough, to sit across from you and capture your likeness in strokes of black charcoal. Over and over and over again, your cheeks, and your hair, and your lips in a pout, and your eyebrows all pinched. He can’t get enough. It’s almost miserable, except it’s heaven. 

And now here you are, standing over him and looking at him expectantly. Part of him wants to hide it away, keep it for himself, but that’s not fair because it’s you. It really belongs to you, should be yours, but Dabi is nothing if not a little possessive. 

Standing this close to him, you can see all of him, the pink puckered skin that spreads over him in various spots, the bit of black around his fingertips, the sun shining in his eyes. God, his eyes are blue. Could that color ever be mixed, replicated, brushed onto a canvas and still make you feel the way looking into his eyes right now does? You don’t think it could, and you don’t see the point in asking the man who works with charcoal before you. 

“It’s me, right? You’ve been, um, looking over there, so I thought…” You speak, suddenly afraid that it wasn’t you he was focused on. The thought of him being lost in the scenery on the campus behind you suddenly makes more sense than him paying so much attention to you, but there’s no mistaking that his eyes were on you the last time you looked up. 

“It’s you.” He manages to speak, suddenly very conscious of the rasp in his own voice. “You—I’ve seen you sitting there. Couldn’t help myself I guess.”

It’s one way to explain it, definitely less creepy than the fact that he saw you and felt like he might die unless he could put you to paper. 

You hold your hand out, a little impatient, more out of excitement and a little nervousness than anything else. He stands up, and your struck with the fact that he’s much taller than you. He places the sketchpad in your hand, and you force yourself to look away from his face.

You fill the page, almost every blank space filled with your face in different expressions and your body sat in different positions. He had to have been sitting there for much longer than you though to have been able to draw all of these. It’s all you, but it’s him, this piece of him that he’s allowing you to look at, take a peak inside. You want to see more. You want all of him. You want to take and take and take, and not because he has you trapped in his pages, but because it’s not enough to know him through just these strokes and smudges. Even if he lets you keep this, you’ll look at it every day, this piece of his soul, and wish it was the real thing.

It’s the same way he’s felt about you for the past couple of days. 

“Do you have more?” You ask him, a little breathless. 

“Of you?” He asks, but he thinks that it was probably stupid of him to say. He feels exposed, but by his own words and the way you look at both the page and him like your seeing him in a way no one ever has before. 

“Anything.” You shake your head. “All of it. I want to see it all, you—you’re very talented.”

You clear your throat awkwardly, the excitement, the desperation beginning to feel embarrassing. The stunned look on his face makes you feel self conscious, and maybe you should just walk away or leave him alone. 

But he wants to show you everything. 

He writes his address across your palm with a pen he’s pulled from his back pocket. He has classes during the day on Mondays and Wednesdays, but he tells you that you can come by any other time. It’s strange, you think, for him to give you his address instead of his number. It feels fast, and stupid, to meet him at his place without knowing anything but his name. (Dabi. A name that feels like it was meant to fall from your lips, and he would agree). 

But he’s ripped out the page, placed it in your palms, and told you he’ll see you later, like he’s always known you. It’s not enough, to look at your face made from his hands in lines across a page. You want to feel them on you, over your skin, grabbing and taking, your want and his. With a piece of his heart in your hands, you decide that no matter how stupid, or fast, or intense it might be, you’ll go to him.

[msfcatlover]

Nightwing!Damian would still be of the Corruption, though he has so many healthy relationships in his life that its influence on him is slipping. His swarm is smaller now than it’s ever been. His power fades day by day. He might even manage to be human again someday (he doesn’t know how he feels about that, when his swarm are so beloved & his monster side has always been a source of pride for Damian.)

Tim was always going to be of the Eye, being Oracle only doubles down on it.

Cass in the TMA AU is basically Agnes Montague, but for the Stranger. That wouldn’t change either.

Steph was only just starting out when Damian took her under his wing. She never fully got caught in the spiraling fixation on destroying her father by any means necessary, she couldn’t pursue one goal to the exclusion of all others, and as the first fully human (non-Alfred) member of the team, everyone would be doing their best to protect that humanity, monitoring her for any sign of supernatural influence and guiding her away before it could get its hooks in her (they are still Bruce’s children, after all.) Until she came out of the dirt, unsheltered & unprotected, already marked so many times over, with fear & rage boiling in her blood. Until Talia gave Steph her mind back, gave Steph a purpose again, and the rage boiled over plasmatic hate. Until Steph laughed like a roaring maelstrom, sparks crackling in her wild hair, something bordering on madness in her eyes, and Talia thought: Oh. I have made a mistake. (The storm would be leashed, eventually. Steph does have self control, she has goals to achieve, plans to make, and power alone could not do that. But in that moment, when Steph realized her killer was still killing people despite everything that had happened, in her pain & fury, she gave in. She stepped backwards off that invisible ledge and plunged headfirst into what she knew she was Becoming. She embraced it, wholeheartedly. In that moment, it almost wasn’t Stephanie Brown in that garden, but the Cataclysm itself inside her skin. Almost.)

Duke… I’m still struggling to think of a good match for, but honestly in this AU… His ability to connect, to make people listen to him, his desire to step up & save the city himself if he has to, and the fact Duke is the eldest/first batkid in this AU (giving him & Bruce even more in common when Batman had only ever fought alone) all make me want to say Web. BUT with his powers, his ability to lead a crowd, the sheer scale of his potential, I also want to say Vast? What little I know of Gnomon also says Vast, ALTHOUGH…. …we could play off their shadow control, invert Duke’s light powers for this AU, and say Dark. Which would make Duke borderline antithetical to Web!Bruce, but hey, maybe Web!Bruce wants to prove to himself just how much choice he still has—that the Web can make him as uncomfortable as it likes, but he’s still going to take care of a child in need. (Assuming he is going against the Web’s wishes, of course, and it isn’t reverse psychologying him…) (My gut says Web!Duke, though. The more I think about it, the more I like Web!Duke conceptually… but I am worried that it doesn’t fit him. That Duke’s all-or-nothing “if no one else is going to, I’ll do it myself” attitude & raw charisma is not close enough to the Web’s need for control. I don’t like it when people just assign characters an Entity for the Aesthetic(TM) or for shallow, surface-level reasons—it has to resonate with their own personal failings, or else what’s even the point?)

Jason was human when he joined the family, and they’d want to keep him that way… but I think by the time he gets back from the Red Robin arc, Jason would’ve been claimed by the Hunt.

Dick gets scooped up by the family almost immediately in this AU, and Cass does her best to temper in his early-days bloodlust. With Cass as his Batman, I think Dick would be tempted by the Vast, but ultimately chase after her by embracing his own Otherness. (Or Dick was already a Stranger when his parents fell. But honestly, I like the arc of Dick learning to love himself & following in his mentor’s footsteps so much more than making him a Stranger because Circus.)

[purple-egg-yolk]

Magnus archives Cosmere crossover

The fear entities are a shard (Fear) that doesn’t have a vessel and is also in the process of shattering but not completely shattered. Hence the different entities but they are all still connected. Each entity could be considered a splinter of the shard once it finished shattering.

The rituals are all attempts to create a perpendicularity. They don’t work unless you use the power of the entire shard; one entity is not powerful enough on its own to create a perpendicularity.

The entities exist in a realm adjacent to ours, could 100% be the cognitive realm.

Avatars are amazed and jealous of Radiants abilities to manifest their spren in the physical realm at will.

Much like the Dor on Sel, some entities are developing sentience without a vessel, like the web.

Jon ascends to become the vessel of the fear shard in the season 4 finale.

Michael/Helen were the spirals attempt to cause an ascension, but similarly to the rituals, to fully ascend you need to be marked by all the entities.

Silverlight researchers are fascinated by how the fear shard is naturally splintering, and are studying the formations of the fears in relation to the formations of spren on Roshar.

Researchers do not like the Magnus institute on moral grounds but are also more or less willing to work with them because they want to know more. The eye absolutely steals people visiting from the Silverlight universities.

The avatars are interested in emotional allomancy and wonder if they could feed off fear caused by allomancy.

The cult of the lightness flame is incredibly proud of the fact that on Roshar, the wars are al called Desolations. They love the True Desolation and would absolutely help Odium.

Avatars are embarrassed by Roshars fear spren. Their fear spren are clearly superior.

Radiants are jealous of Vast avatars seemingly endless ability to use the surge of gravitation without oaths or need for stormlight.

Avatars who do not want to feed off of fear could feed off pure dor, but not stormlight. Basically fear is being converted into investiture to feed the entities and much like Elantrians, (but unlike radiants or allomancers) they need investiture to sustain them.

Near death experiences to become avatars work in a similar way as snapping in allomancy/trauma for radiants. Gotta have that to rip a hole into your soul wide enough for a fear entity to slip in.

Eye avatars are terrified by shard blades and their abilities to burn out eyes. Also they don’t like deadeyes. Also steel inquisitors. Hemalurgy would be very scary.

Salesa’s camera works just like aluminum, or maybe like soothing fear or a copper cloud. All three maybe lol.

Artifact storage really wants a soul caster. Or any fabrial really.

Forgery could be used to mimic avatar powers or mimic a mark of an entity

Aviar could be used like selasa’s camera.

The web uses spirit webs and connection to manipulate people.

The End is the only entity with future sight, as seen with Oliver Banks who knows people will die before they do. Other entities do not have this.

The slaughter and the thrill would get alone very well.

Kelsier would be a hunt avatar if he was ever able to get his ass off scadrial and to tma earth. As would a lot of the rosharan ghostbloods I guess loll.

Most avatars could not become radiants, but eye and spiral avatars could be come lightweavers. Lightweavers because they don’t need oaths beyond the first. And they speak truths specifically, which I think the eye would like. Spiral not so much but it would appreciate the lies lightweavers tell enough to not complain too much. Maybe the eye avatars could also become truth watchers.

Cryptics would be fascinated by the spiral. Avatars would initially assume cryptics are manifestations of the spiral.

Avatars would have mixed feelings on Harmony because balance is such a big deal with the fears.

Elias would be pissed that so many people figured out immortality before him.

Any Radiant gets thrown into the lonely:

immediately summons shardblade. “What is this place?”

Spren, “I think it’s the lonely, I’ve heard about it!” Radiant,” Well it didn’t work very well”

Elias and the fused are both body hopping cognitive shadows.

These are just my ideas that have been rattling around in my brain, I would love to hear others! What would hoid think of this world? Could he even get to the physical realm? He would need to get through the fear entities so maybe?

[thatsdemko]

ask - m.seider

masterlist

requested: y

pairings: mo seider x reader

warnings: none but fluff and I kind of took my own creative liberty with this 🫣

the sun light was creeping in through your blinds when you woke up and rolled over nearly hitting the 6’4” German who lay beside you. you weren’t sure how it got like this. one day you were friends, and the next thing you knew he was under your covers asleep next to you almost every night.

“don’t you have another place to stay?” you asked him months ago, grabbing his pillow that was tightly embraced in his arms and allowing him into your apartment that he never seemed to leave except for away games.

“it’s no fun living with Lucas when you’re all the way over here.” he removed the beanie from his head and you watched him mess with his curls making your knees weaken.

it didn’t take long for him to make himself at home for an extra month. you noticed most of your drawers were beginning to fill up with red wings gear, boxers, and his sweatpants. your bathroom had additional shampoo and conditioner, and your kitchen had a plethora of German spices you couldn’t even pronounce.

you weren’t mad mo had become your roommate, in fact you loved spending time with him. but the problem became your ongoing crush began to rapidly spiral when he one day climbed into your bed—even though his room was right next door—and he never seemed to have gone back to his own.

and that’s how you woke up this morning. to him in your bed for the third night in a row. there was no horse play that went on, it typically began with you both in your separate rooms, he came in to ask about your day, and then you both fell asleep. every morning you woke up with the anxiety that he wasn’t right there next to you, but there he was. still sound asleep.

once you got the energy to roll out of bed you began to start cooking breakfast. the smell of bacon and eggs was a way to get anybody up, and shortly after you started you heard the sound of your bedroom door unlatch, and the sound of hard wood floor creaking grow louder with every step.

“good morning,” you smiled, he mumbled a few words to you making his way to the fridge to grab coffee. he was never a man of many words in the morning, but you didn’t mind it. sometimes you both ate your breakfast in silence and sometimes you ate your breakfast listening to mo talk a mile a minute. you cherished both of those mornings.

“coffee?” you heard him, and before you could reply he was already holding the cup up to your lip allowing you to sip whatever he had just mixed together. he watched you close your eyes swallowing the mixture, “not bad, I’ll have one.”

it was silent for awhile, you platted the food for you both and headed to the table to sit down and wait for mo. you glanced over at him for a second catching a glimpse of the back of him working on the coffee. you couldn’t help but stare a little longer picking up the bruises on his arms and the sheet marks on the back of his shirt. it was gestures like this that made you question your relationship, friendship, or heck even situationship. sometimes you would wake up in the morning wondering if he would regret slipping into your bed with you that night.

“what are we?” you asked, it was mainly to yourself, you’ve questioned it for so long. every morning you woke up hoping one day he would realize maybe you were what he wanted to wake up to. ever since he walked in that door with his pillow you wondered where it was going to go. especially, now that he made himself a home for three days in your full size bed. you didn’t expect the question to come out of your mouth. it was supposed to be more of a silent question, but it grabbed his attention.

he turned at the sound of your voice, he only heard a little bit of what you said, but he picked up enough to know what you asked. he’d been avoiding the thinking himself, but when it came to you how could he ever not question it? his teammates called him a wimp for not pulling the trigger on asking you out. he dared not to even ever say he spent most nights in your bed.

“what do you want us to be?” you heard from the kitchen. snapping you out of your daydreams you watched as mo approached the table with two cups of coffee, setting one down for you.

red covered your cheeks as you tried to hide your face behind your cup, “I didn’t expect you to hear me.”

the silence was loud. it was the most uncomfortable silence you’ve ever endured with him, and you didn’t like it. you could tell he didn’t either just by the way he was playing with his food. it was just like you both were avoiding the question on the table.

you watched him shift uncomfortable in his seat, “so have you always liked me?” he asked. you watched his cheeks flush red now this time. you watched him pick up and drop his silverware waiting for an answer from you. he couldn’t get himself to eat because now he was full of anxiety. he couldn’t deny it himself he felt an attraction toward you, but it was always easier for him to ignore it than swallow himself in it.

“well I wouldn’t let you stay for this long if I didn’t.” you joked nibbling on a piece of bacon, and the silence came again. it was agonizing.

tired of waiting, you cut to the chase. one thing about mo is if he wants something he waits, but you were making moves now. you waited too many times in bed wanting to ask the question. you had too many restless nights on the phone hoping he’d be the one to tell you. but you were going to do it now.

“do you want to ask me out? or will I have to ask you?”

mo picked his head up from staring at the plate of breakfast in front of him to look at you. not a sight of anxiety on your face waiting for an answer, he knew if he backed out he’d be denying his feelings and his teammates would have a field day. as much as he tried to take it slow, he knew it would be impossible with you. especially since he somehow always found himself in your bed every morning.

“y/n, will you go out with me?”

“yes, now let’s talk about getting you your own dresser. mine is full of your clothes.”

[snippychicke]

Cats & Ships-- Chapter Nine

Will fancy up later. Again.

Captain Kuro knew that once he and his crew returned to Maple Town a few weeks later that there could be several possible outcomes, and had plans for each one. Thankfully, the situation seemed to be more favorable as most of the town was still receptive to their presence. And having a tentative ally in an entire town could be very beneficial. Or so he reasoned as he threatened his crew to behave themselves while on shore. Having a port they could return to that wouldn’t alert the marines, who were indebted to them, who was willing to take stolen treasure and exchange it for stacks of berries or other goods and services could be a boon to them.

But one thing he had not planned for, had not expected in the least bit, was seeing Kaya sitting at the Mazer Tavern, deep in conversation with you. He couldn’t even appreciate the smile you had when you first saw him shortly before you realized the situation yourself.

Kaya caught the expression on your face as you paled, and looked behind her. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife, time itself seemed hesitant with moving forward.

Surprise melted into burning fury and hatred, and Kuro clenched his fists as he stared at the waif of a child that had ruined his plans. Everything he had worked towards for those three years, biting his tongue and going against his very nature with the self-imposed servitude, all of that failing because of her.

You suddenly stepped between him and Kaya, breaking his train of thought, as well as the spiraling anger. Your face was sympathetic, but he could see a hint of caution and determination in your eyes. “Please, let’s keep things civil. Or, at least non-violent.”

Kuro took a breath as he straightened. He had told his crew to behave themselves, he needed to hold to that as well. He schooled his expression, embracing that coldness to quench the rage burning as he strode across the tavern and took a seat a few places away from Kaya, pointedly ignoring her. “My usual, please.”

You hesitantly complied, glancing between the two before ducking into the back. Silence hung heavily once more, the faint movement of Kaya fiddling with her own glass visible from the corner of his eye as he studied the wall behind the bar decorated with various wanted posters.

He noted his own with the word ‘dead’ harshly marked out, leaving just the words ‘Wanted: Alive’ above his bounty (quite hefty, considering he had returned from the dead.) Had you done that recently, or back when you had admitted you worried for his safety?

Either way, it was a visual reminder that he had something to lose. Something other than his life or his freedom.

You shortly returned with the tea, as well as a refill for Kaya. (Juice? Or something with alcohol in it? It seemed odd to think of her drinking any type of hard beverage.) After a moment, he watched amused as you poured yourself a shot and downed it with soft swear.

Kaya chuckled at the sight as well, which almost broke the tense silence. Almost.

“God, I didn’t know silence could be this painful,” You stated a moment later. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take it over something… worse, it’s just…” You trailed off, unsure how to express yourself.

Kaya apparently took it as a challenge and swiveled in her seat to face him, the movement catching his attention. He had to admit, she looked different from when he last saw her.

(Cowering in fear, those dark eyes wide and full of fear. He had strangled any regret or pity and had focused on the anger as he raised his Cat Claws. This would be the last death. His life would be safe with her demise. His ultimate plan is finally coming to fruition.)

She was stronger, a hard glint in eyes that were once so soft and watery. Determination unlike he had ever seen before settled into her stance. (Why was he almost proud of that fact?)

“How have you been?” She asked, her voice no longer soft and whiny, but firm yet kind.

Despite himself, Kuro scoffed as he sipped his tea. “Alive.” What else was there to say? What else could he say without risking his next attempt at escaping the life of a pirate?

“I see,” Kaya responded slowly after another moment of silence. “I admit, I was quite surprised when I learned you survived and had returned to piracy.”

Kuro watched as you poured a second shot, apparently thinking the first one had not been enough. He gestured towards you, and quickly had a small glass of the clear liquid. He preferred wine to the sharp bite of what he presumed was moonshine (of all things, why that? You had a vast array of different choices.) But he wasn’t about to complain.

(He was completely too soft when it came to you, and hoped no one else had noticed.)

Once the burn was eased with another sip of tea, Kuro looked back at his once-ward. “Yes, well. My options were rather limited at the time. As much as I detest it, I am rather skilled at being a pirate.” Before she could push back, and he could see the argument in her eyes, he continued: “As for you, how do you find your new path of becoming a doctor?”

There was no holding back the sneer in his voice at the term. He still found it hard to believe the sheltered child knew what was in store for her as a doctor. She probably thought of being settled at the patient's bedside, soothing common colds and treating simple infections.

Not covered in someone else’s blood. He had seen doctors yell for people to hold their patient down as they sawed at a ruined leg that had been destroyed by a cannonball. Having to choose between which patient to treat, and which to let nature take its course.

He couldn’t see Kaya in that situation.

The young woman looked away, focusing on her own drink. “It’s been more difficult than expected, but I’m enjoying the challenge. I was actually just recounting the trip to the town’s hospital and being able to watch surgeries being performed. If I was able to bring that knowledge back to Syrup Village, it could do a lot of good.”

Or he could be surprised. Kuro blamed the moonshine as he felt another twinge of respect for the young woman, but had to admit she had certainly grown from the frail thing he had cared for. “Hmph. I suppose that fool Usopp has been trailing you like a lost dog.”

A fond smile she wore every time the young man was mentioned bloomed on her lips, though there was a hint of sadness as well. “Actually, he went with Luffy on the ship I gave them-- the Going Merry. See, you can make out the back of his head there in the corner,” Kaya gestured to the wall of wanted posters. The strawhat pirate grinned brashly in his picture, but Kuro focused on where Kaya was gesturing.

Hell, she was right. There was no mistaking the boy’s back; how many times had he snuck up on Usopp while the teen was spinning his lies to Kaya?

“I guess that proves nothing is impossible,” he grumbled. Not only had Luffy defied his expectations, but so had Usopp.

Damn brats.

“He’ll send me letters when he can,” she continued on, sounding far too much like the dreaming girl he once knew. “The village postmaster will forward them to the university. Last I knew, they’re heading for the Grand Line after a stop in Logue Town.”

Kuro scoffed, even if he believed anything Usopp wrote, going to the Grand Line was a foolish mistake. They were still little more than children playing pirates, even if they had supposedly taken on Arlong’s crew and triumphed as the rumors claimed.

Granted, the fact Luffy carried a thirty-million berry bounty on his head at such a young age proved that even the marines saw him as a threat. (It did ease his wounded pride some as well.)

The relative peace of the tavern ended as the doors opened and most of his crew poured in, rowdy as ever as they greeted both their captain and their favorite barmaid. Kuro sighed, both thankful for the distraction and annoyed that he had lost his chance at a moment with you in relative peace. As it waz, you shot him a soft look before hurrying to tend to his crew.

(He didn't feel jealous at all as Jango wrapped his arm around your shoulders in a side hug. How and when did you two become close?)

He had both expected and hoped Kaya would take the chance to end the awkward peace and disappear from the Tavern, but instead she slipped into the seat next to his.

Her dark eyes were hard as he looked at her, surprised. “Look, Klahadore--”

“Kuro,” he insisted. He didn’t mind you calling him by that alias, but from Kaya’s lips it sharply kindled his anger.

“Fine, Kuro,” She repeated. “I’m not forgiving you--”

“--nor do I expect or want your forgiveness.”

His interruption struck a nerve, and he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. But with a deep breath it was gone, replaced once more with seriousness. “But we do have a common friend, and I am willing to tolerate you for her sake. And I do not care how foolish it sounds, but if you betray her I shall call on what connections I have to hunt you down.”

Kuro’s first instinct was to grip her throat and snarl at her impudence. She dared to threaten him? Did she think that she had anything to do with his failure back at Syrup Village?

His fingers clenched as he held back the urge, however. Because she was unfortunately partially correct. You would not take kindly to him killing Kaya. Plus it would likely only complicate things, and he refused to have her ruin two of his plans.

“You’re right, it does sound foolish,” he stated plainly, forcing himself to look away from the young woman. “Luckily for you, I have no such intent.”

“Good. Because-- god knows why-- she’s fond of you. Even though she was essentially ostracized from the village just because you had befriended her. At first I was saddened to hear that she was working in a tavern after everything, but she seems quite happy.”

Kuro ignored Kaya and looked to where you were chatting with Jango and some of the others while setting down their drinks. You were happy…

And wearing the necklace he had sent, the dark obsidian cat catching the light where it rested against your chest. Quietly but pointedly marking you as part of his for those who knew.

Betray you? Kuro doubted that he could do that now. He could betray everyone else, wipe out his entire crew and the village without a moment of remorse. But you? Just the thought made him feel ill.

He wanted you safe. Wanted you by his side because he trusted you not to ever slip a knife into his ribs at the first convience.

[huthurheartsdramione]

Hiii! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on here and I thought I would maybe try to be more active again so here’s some information about me to introduce myself.

Name: Heather

Age: 33

Screen name: huthurheartsdramione

Reasoning for screen name: my brother used to call me huthur and I love Dramione fanfic.

Reading Fanfic Since 2000: After The Goblet of Fire was published. Like many people, I read a little too much into Draco warning Hermione and friends about the Death Eaters at the Qudditch Workd Cup, and it spiraled from there and I started looking for stories/people who also thought Hermione and Draco would be a great couple. In the early days, I was on many now defunct sites including Coloured Grey and Granger Enchanted. I even printed out fanfic to take with me places where I didn’t have internet so I could read it. There are likely many half-stories lying around my childhood home. So I’ve been reading Dramione in particular for over 24 years, and within the Harry Potter fandom.

I also just want to make note that I don’t endorse, condone, or believe in JKR’s views. I know we can never fully separate the fandom from her and her work, but I do not condone transphobia in any way shape or form.

Fandom Realted Fun Facts:

1. I have a spreadsheet of fanfics I read this year. I felt bad about not reading traditionally published books as much this year and tracking my word count makes me feel better about that. My goal is to reach 10 million words by the end of the year. I’ve only been tracking since April of this year. I’m a big data nerd and it makes my heart happy to track random things.

2. While I rate fanfic in my tracker, I only rate things 3-5. If I read it, it was at least a 3. I also rate traditionally published books this way. It has to be at least average if I finished it. I do not rate fanfic on any other websites or through my collections or any of those things. Fandom is free and the rating system is more for me to keep track of things I might want to reread in the future or that I was really moved by than anything else.

3. I still think about a song fic that I haven’t been able to find again. It was based off a song by Rilo Kiley and every time I hear that song I think about the fanfic.

Real Life Job: Event Planning

Published Fics: 0, but I have many half written drafts of things.

Some Favorite Tropes/Tags: War AU, BAMF Hermione/Draco, Burn the World for Hermione, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage Law, Marriage of Convenience, Theo Nott is A Menace

10 Favorite Fics this Year in no Particular Order:

1. Bloody, Slutty, and Pathetic

2. Green Light

3. Measure of a Man (I followed this as a WIP and then fell off reading and finally went back and read all of it. I wish I had saved the original version before it was edited though).

4. Amina Gemella (my first ever Harry/Blaise and a companion to The Fear of Letting Go which is a Dramione. It’s just so dang good).

5. EXIT and REBEL (I want to go back and tandem read these so badly)

6. These Ties that Bind

7. Of Sun Swords and Worms (listen this is a WIP but I can already tell it’ll be a favorite. It is so heart aching and well written).

8. Crimson and Clover

9. Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I'm Leaving Without You)

10. an ever-fixed mark

I would love to learn more about all of you! What do you like to read? What’s your favorite fic? What are your favorite tropes? Do you have a fic tracker? If so, do you want to compare?

[reck1essly]

you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed CHRISTIAN ST JAMES walking by . don’t tell me you don’t know who he is ? they kind of look like leo woodall and i could be wrong but i think that they might be twenty seven years old right now . they’ve been living in palmview for the last twenty seven years and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of connell waldron from normal people . if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at the book nook as a clerk . you see this town isn’t really that big of a place , some folks like to call them the lost boy of palmview ! they took a liking to the name too after a while , go figure . oh crap , they must have heard me yapping , they’re coming this way . i got to warn you though , rumor has it they can pretty self destructive at times . i wouldn’t take it too seriously though , from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty charismatic to me . we see each other all the time since they live in that three bedroom apartment beside me over in sunny shores . i better leave you to it , it was nice meeting you .

DEATH TW, SUICIDE MENTION TW, ADDICTION TW

⁘ — 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬. ⁘`

name. christian st. james. nicknames. saint. chrissy. gender. cis man. occupation. writer/clerk at the book nook. pronouns. he/him. age. 27. date of birth. december 24th. romantic orientation. homoromantic. sexual orientation. homosexual. relationship status. single. dominant hand. ambidextrous.

⁘ — 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭��𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬. ⁘

faceclaim. leo woodall. height. 5'8. hair color. blonde. eye color. blue. distinguishing marks. various scars littered across his body. tattoos. multiple tattoos.

was bore from a one night stand between his mother, lilia, who raised him and his father, lex, who did nothing more than contribute his sperm. his dad is the lead singer to an infamous rock band who was in town. his mother at the time was a waitress at the local diner. one thing led to another, a night filled with passion and a morning filled with regret.

his mom never bothered to even inform lex that she got pregnant, seeing as he bounced before she woke up the next morning. no note, no nothing. he vanished and lilia had to keep going on with her mundane and ordinary life.

she always resented christian. mainly because he was an unwanted reminder of lex. and unfortunately, he took too much after his father. in looks and likeness. baby blues that were filled with mischief but that had the innate ability to just hook you in. they could get you to do just about anything.

despite the fact that christian was always charming, even from a young age, he also was a huge empath. and while he wasn't always very good at registering his own emotions and feelings, he always had the weird maturity to feel and understand everyone else's emotions. his mother was depressed, lonely and although chrissy did what he could to cheer her up, he wasn't enough.

his mother and him were always close, they were best friends. and growing up, christian didn't really understand how that was a problem. but his mom always isolated herself, she worked two jobs and had no friends, no social life outside of him. she worked her ass off to provide for her son and got no help in return.

DEATH TW, SUICIDE MENTION TW. he was fifteen when she died. it all just got to be too much for her. and it crushed christian. he lost the only family he had and his best friend.

was sent into foster care but took it upon himself to escape to try to find his father, who was playing a show in new york. always had this romantic idea that his father would want to be involved in his life if he only KNEW about christian. turned out, that wasn't the case. and that he did know about christian and that he just didn't give a flying fuck.

after that, christian just started to spiral. it all just became too much. he was too old to be adopted, he kept getting kicked out of foster homes and not to mention he started relying heavily on drinking and drugs.

aged out of the system without ever getting adopted and seems to be permanently stuck.

though five years ago, he finally published one of his books. though it was under a fake pseudonym so while the book went viral, the actual author remains a mystery. no one in town knows that it's him.

to the locals, he's just kind of the lost boy who had so much potential but who is kind of just rotting away. similar to his mom in that sense.

⁘ — personality. ⁘

he's a massive wild card. acts tougher than he really is, constantly gets into fights over stupid shit. mainly because it makes him feel something. insanely talented but he wastes his talent. reckless, always getting into trouble. a massive flirt. and while he pretends like he doesn't care, the truth is he really DOES care about everything. very deeply. he's incredibly loyal and loving to those that he trusts and would do anything for those that he cares for. incapable of having healthy relationships just because he pushes people away.

⁘ — connections. ⁘

FRIENDSHIP.

best friends ;; a partner in crime, the ying to the yang. the pair or more that are typically attached by the hip, consult each other, and couldn’t live without one another.

current roommates ;; they live together in the new world

bad influence ;; best friends who constantly encourage each other to do bad things (drugs/partying/cheating/etc).

good influence ;; best friend who look out for each other and often act as a conscience to each other.

family friends ;; friends who met through family, could either be close or it be an awkward situation because they don’t really get along or know each other well.

childhood friends ;; friends since the diaper days, could be a brother/sister or sister/sister type connection.

friends with lingering feelings ;; self explanatory, friends where either one or both have some kind of romantic feelings that pass more then just friends..

partying buddies ;; a friendship that relies on nothing more then alcohol, drugs, going out and having a wild time. you could add more to this by having them occasionally hook up with intoxicated or something like that.

confident/cornerstone ;; someone who acts as a shoulder to lean on and someone to vent to.

ROMANTIC.

friends with benefits ;; friends who hook up and either have or haven’t blurred the lines between the physical and emotional connection..

mutual crushes ;; either they both have feelings for each other that is p obvious but aren’t ready to take the next step. or it can be one sided or both could be completely oblivious to the other liking them.

secret relationship ;; a relationship kept on the down low because of whatever reason.

one night stand ;; pretty straight forward. could have been a in the moment thing, alcohol could have been involved. they could either be acting as if it didn’t happen, or completely awkward around each other because of it.

casual hook up ;; they aren’t friends, but will call each other whenever they need a lil sexual intercourse. basically like a booty call.

will they, won’t they ;; a pair of friends or maybe not friends who constantly flirt and act like a couple but it’s teetering on a cliff on whether or not they’ll take that step.

on again, off again ;; (ariana’s voice) make up, break up, total waste of time. this is basically a couple that you’d get whiplash from on whether or not they are together.

fling ;; an in the moment type thing where both know it’s not going to last or go past a certain point. maybe like a rebound. plot twist one actually catches some heavy duty feelings.

exes that ended good terms ;; a pair of exes that were on the same page when they broke up and have remained good friends and supportive of each other moving on/forward.

exes that ended on bad terms ;; a pair of exes that were 10/10 not on the same page and it’s all animosity between them and hate and aNGST. maybe one cheated, or just thought their shit didn’t stink and bailed with no explanation. the skies the limit for this.

exes that still hook up ;; a pair of exes that broke up but there is still that lingering sexual chemistry between them so the most talking they do know is without their clothes on.

exes with lingering feelings ;; exes that broke up but still have feelings towards each other and can’t help but feel jealous/hurt seeing the other with someone else.

ex friends with benefits ;; they thought they had it, but in the end it didn’t work. could be because deeper feelings got involved, a relationship started with someone else, fighting, etc.

ex affair ;; basically they were the cheater or the other woman/man but it ended for whatever reason.

first loves ;; they started dating when they were younger and were each others first serious relationship. that person that will always have that place no matter what.

[nanagoswife]

Believe Me

Pairing: Nanami x afab!reader

Summary: Nanami may or may not be a bit jealous. However, he’s really bad at expressing it.

W/C: 4.2k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, sexual assault but nothing too serious, protective Nanami, jealous Nanami, dom!Nanami, unprotected sex, smut, piv, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), thigh riding (slightly), semi-public sex, elevator sex, elevator gets stuck, praise kink, slight decrophyllia, unintentional orgasm denial, biting, marking, slight hair pulling (m receiving), wall sex, I think that’s all

A/N: Part 2 for Nanami pov?👀

- - -

There was a thick tension in the air as you and Nanami waited for the elevator. Well, it’s not like you were helping much with what you had just been doing. However, it’s not like it was your fault. How were you supposed to know that your, now, ex-friend would try to do that?

You were having a dinner and game night with Nanami and a few of your friends. Never did you think that your playful teasing would turn into that one friend pinning you to his couch and trying to kiss you. A shiver of disgust runs down your spine as you remember him whispering, “Nanami will never know,” before said man walked into the room. 

When he had, he pushed the man off of you, escorting you to a safe distance before having a few heat filled words with the other man. Your once friend had said that you initiated it and the fact that Nanami actually seemed to believe it made your heart drop to your stomach. His gaze on you had been accusatory and you couldn’t believe that he still didn’t seem to believe you when you swore you hadn’t. 

Tears were welling up in your eyes and, instead of listening to the rest, you walked to the door. Grabbing your things, you decided to wait outside of the apartment. Whatever Nanami has to say to you, you’d rather it not be in front of the one who did this to you. 

Ever since Nanami joined you, he hasn’t even looked at you. That didn’t stop you from catching small glances at him. Each time you did, though, it just made you feel worse and worse. 

Nanami’s eyes were staring straight ahead. His jaw was clenched and his hands in tight fists. Other than that, his expression was painfully neutral. So much so that fear began to build in you thinking that he was resigned to this. That he was done. 

That thought alone brought tears back to your eyes. Your small glances stopped as you instead stared at the ground. To try and relieve the weight growing in your chest, you do your best to hug yourself. Comforting yourself, though, isn’t working. If anything it’s making it worse. Especially since the man you usually go to for comfort is standing beside you and seems to not want anything to do with you. 

For that reason, you’re quietly muttering, “I’ll go stay at Gojo’s tonight.”

For the first time since you walked out of that apartment, you feel Nanami’s eyes land on you. It’s like his gaze is burning through you as you keep your own eyes trained on the floor. You’re afraid to look at him. You’re afraid that he won’t care. You’re afraid that this is the end. 

That’s when you hear him sigh. “No. You’re not.”

Usually, you’d think those should be comforting words. Now they seem like an order. A command, really, as he turns back to the elevator that chimes its arrival. 

You wait for him to step in before following. Even when Nanami leans over, pressing lightly against your back to press the button to the ground floor, you still don’t dare look away from the ground. It doesn’t matter that the small brush of his chest caused heat to rise in you. How can you focus on a feeling like that in this situation? 

Once again, your thoughts begin to spiral. You begin to think of all the things that should’ve told you that your friend would act that way. Nothing really came to mind, though. It frustrates you because, what if you could’ve avoided all of this? Even then, you’ve known him since high school and never did you think he would do something like that to anyone. There wasn’t even anything that you could see that pointed to him liking you in a way like that. You just couldn’t understand why. Why would he do that so suddenly? Especially while you were in a relationship that’s nowhere close to new. 

The elevator suddenly coming to a stop halts your thoughts. Confusion fills you as you bring your tear filled eyes to look at your surroundings. Despite your vision being blurry, you see Nanami standing beside the panel. His hand is hovering over the buttons but even his gaze is confused instead of being veiled by his earlier indifference. 

That look isn’t kept for long once he looks at you. There’s something different, something that makes a different kind of shiver run down your spine. However you again chide yourself for having those kinds of thoughts in a moment like this. 

“I didn’t do it,” you mutter finally. It’s quiet but loud enough in the stalled elevator for Nanami to hear. It’s the first thing you’ve said about this since everything happened. It also causes the tears to fall even more at the thought he might still not believe you. “I-,” a hiccup, “I swear, Kento. Please… p-please believe me,” you end in a shaky whisper. 

There’s a momentary silence before he’s aking two steps towards you, pushing you against the elevator wall. It has your heart racing when you see the glint in his eyes. Simultaneously, it sends a rush of relief through you. You can’t assume, though, so you hold your breath as his hands find yours to pin them above your head. One of his knees parts your legs and he presses enough that you’re tempted to grind against his thigh while he transfers both of your wrists into one of his large hands. The other lands on your hip, squeezing it. 

You’re not going to push your luck with him, however, so you instead keep still. 

You’re tense as he dips his head, inhaling deeply before his hot breath fans over your neck. “Give me a reason to,” he says darkly before barely meeting your gaze, his attention mainly on your exposed collarbone. 

Despite your current position, the doubt you had from before wins over as you look away from him. You feel your heart drop yet again as you feel fresh tears welling up. The feeling that he actually still would rather listen to your assaulter rather than you, his claimed ‘love of his life’, takes over. 

“So,” you start in a small voice, trying to keep it from wavering the way it was earlier, “you don’t believe me?”

You can hear the hurt in your voice. Still, it doesn’t convey just how much this is affecting you. How could you when you’d rather wait to be alone before breaking?

Nanami’s full gaze is back on you the moment you say that. 

You refuse to look at him. It doesn’t matter that he has you pressed up against the wall. It doesn’t matter that you know your cheeks are flushed and that you desperately want to melt into the warmth of his body pressed into yours. You don’t want this to happen out of some sort of revenge. That would be more embarrassing and degrading than what your friend had done. Especially if he were to break things off after this. 

“Is that what you think this is about?”

“What else would I think when you haven’t even talked to me since it happened?” Your tone reflects the offence you feel. You try your best to push him away as you continue, “Or when it looked as if you believed him without letting me say anything? Or despite the fact that we’ve been with each other for years? What else would I think this is about, Nanami?”

Instead of stepping back as you push against him, Nanami presses you back against the wall. He’s firmer, his hand gripping your wrists just a little tighter as he leans into you more. His free hand grabs your chin, not rough but enough to get a point across, and turns your face towards his. There’s a glint of frustration in his features but, overall, it’s a softer look than before. 

This only makes your tears fall more as he holds your chin in place. 

“My name isn’t Nanami to you-“

“Stop,” you say as firmly as you can and you can feel the way he freezes. You squeeze your eyes shut as you continue, “I don’t want you to do this if it’s only to get revenge. I already feel used enough and I wouldn’t be able to take it from you.”

There’s a moment of silence and it’s deafening. All that can be heard is your struggle to inhale without sobbing out. It’s only made worse when you feel Nanami’s hold loosen and, for a moment, you think that this is where it all ends. He doesn’t pull away though. You notice that he’s just loosening his hold against you to turn it from rough to something softer. Still, you don’t find the courage to open your eyes. 

“That’s not what this is,” Nanami whispers as the hand holding your chin slides to cup your jaw. “I’d never use you, love.”

“But you doubt that I wasn’t the one who initiated it, is that right?”

Even though you don’t want to, you open your eyes then. What you see isn’t what you were expecting. You were expecting to see your feelings validated. Instead, Nanami looks at you as if he couldn’t believe he was hearing what he thought he was. He looks almost offended that you’d ever think that. Yet, at the same time, it seems he’s trying to replay his reactions to find what could’ve made you think that way. 

“No,” he says after a moment, slowly drawing closer to you, “I could never think that. Not when I saw the fear in your eyes.”

In the next moment, his lips are pressing against yours. You’re sighing in relief as his soft lips wipe all of your worries away. 

“If anything,” Nanami breathes out as he momentarily pulls away from your lips, “I was a little jealous.”

Before you can say anything, to voice your surprise and confusion, his lips are back on yours. His body once again presses further into yours. It makes you whine softly when it causes his knee to press more firmly between your legs. 

Then, in between kisses, he admits, “I was… upset that… he got to do that before me.”

Nanami doesn’t leave you any room to reply. In fact, you feel like he doesn’t care about your response. Not because he’s upset with you but because he doesn’t want you to relive that moment. It’s still fresh and, although he’s mentioning it, it’s for a purpose. His ultimate goal is to help you forget; he wants to turn your night from a negative one to something more positive. 

“Now,” he starts lowly, “I’ll give you a choice.”

He leans in again only, this time, he presses his lips against your jaw. They lazily trail down to your neck as his hand squeezes your still pinned wrists. 

“You can either let me see just how far your flushed skin goes,” he practically growls, pressing against you enough for you to feel his clothed erection against your hip, “or we can press the call button to get out of this.”

You were about to mention the fact that he was the one who stopped it until you remember something. His hand may have been hovering over the panel but he looked confused. It was as if he was going to press the button but it stopped before he even got the chance. 

When you go to open your mouth to reply, Nanami quickly cuts you off by covering your mouth with his own. That’s when you realize he’s not going to let you talk at all. You’re not exactly sure as to why but it doesn’t matter. Not with the way his tongue dances with your own. 

Still, he needs some form of answer and the way you melt into his kiss isn’t enough. So, you finally allow yourself to grind down against his knee. 

The friction makes you let out a satisfied whine, your fingers curling to dig into your palms. 

Nanami smiles against your mouth, muttering, “I wonder what he’d think.” Before you can ask, he continues, “I bet he’d be fuming to know you wanted me so badly after getting rejected.”

With that, you can feel his fingers, featherlight as he trails them down your body. They don’t stop until they dip under the hem of your skirt and underwear. However, he doesn’t touch where he wants you most. Instead, he settles for resting his palm over your mound. The tips of his fingers are just shy of your clit and it causes you to let out a frustrated whine. 

“I’ve been waiting all night to have a moment alone,” Nanami starts again, pressing a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “The fact that he took that first moment from me had me wishing I had pulled you aside earlier.”

His words only work to make you even more frustrated that he’s still not providing you any relief. Even his knee is just out of reach of grinding on now. 

“Now I’m going to make sure you’ll never think of him again.”

With those words, Nanami is finally dragging a finger through your folds. It’s almost embarrassing with how easily it slides through. You’re soaking. You’ve known you were this whole time. It didn’t help that your boyfriend was just so hot when he defended you despite being jealous. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest as his dark chestnut eyes meet yours. “Just as needy as I thought. However, you haven’t let me give you any real attention.”

Your boyfriend lets go of your wrists as he sinks down to his knees. He makes quick work of pulling your underwear off, stuffing them in his pocket before turning back to you. 

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he coos, shifting closer. You do as he says and you can just barely see the way he smiles before his lips press against the inside of your thigh. “I guess the flush spread all the way down here,” he lightly teases. “Too bad he’ll never know.”

You swear he’s moving at light speed as he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up even more for him. A small moan spills from your lips when you feel his tongue drag through your folds, his arms wrapping around your legs. Your hands find the railing of the elevator walls, clenching on to keep yourself standing. You hate to admit it but this small dose of attention is already making you feel weak. 

It’s not until you start to grind down on Nanami’s face that he finally gives you proper attention. His fingers dig into your thighs as he attacks your clit with his mouth. You cry out in pleasure, one of your hands moving to his hair to push him in more. 

A chuckle escapes him, the vibrations adding to the stimulation he’s giving you. Your eyes screw shut as he sucks your clit into his mouth, your fingers tightening in his hair. Nanami is drawing you to the edge and quickly. It’s almost like he’s desperate to prove that he’s the only one who can do this to you. Even though he doesn’t need to prove anything. 

Despite that, he seems as if he’s hellbent on making you cum as quickly as possible. Then it dawns on you. He’s desperate to make you reach your high. Not because he has something to prove but because he wants to get to something better. He’s prepping you quickly. All so that there’s less time that he has to wait to get to what he really wants. 

This is new to you. Nanami is never one to rush things. Even your so-called ‘quickies’ are drawn out. You can’t count the number of times that you’ve been late or been suddenly pulled aside by your boyfriend because he wanted to indulge in the taste and feel of you. The ten minute windows would be drawn out to thirty, five to fifteen. For such a punctual man, he never sees any problem in making you or himself late when he wants you. 

Now, though, that isn’t the case. Even though he’s rushing, he’s still making sure that he’s providing you with the same quality. It’s disorienting, really. Even though it’s something you’re used to, his speedy rendition has your head spinning with pleasure. 

“Kento,” you whine as he once again sucks your clit into his mouth, one hand unwrapping from your leg to slip two fingers into your entrance. The hand you have in his hair tightens as you push him further in between your legs. He hums against you, fingers curling inside of you to hit your sweet spot. 

Your high washes over you suddenly, unexpectedly. A high pitched moan leaves your lips as Nanami helps you through it. He drinks up every little drop, smiling when your walls clamp down around his fingers. 

You had only just finished coming down from your high when Nanami stands. There’s hardly any time for you to admire the way his chin glistens before he’s bending slightly, his hands supporting the backs of your thighs before he’s lifting you. Your hands find his shoulders as you wrap your legs around his waist. His hands never leave the backs of your thighs as he presses his body against yours so you’re securely placed against the wall. 

“Need you, Kento,” you murmur before pulling him in, slotting your lips with his. 

He smiles against your lips, his hands kneading your thighs. Not being able to wait any longer, you bring one of your hands in between your bodies. You can feel him smile even more as you undo his belt and zipper. The way he shivers when your fingers brush over his cock has you meeting the desperation he feels. 

“Maybe I should’ve done this before we joined our friends,” Nanami murmurs once you pull him from his underwear, lining him up at your entrance. “Or during,” he continues, once again trailing his lips down your neck as your fingers tangle in his hair, “I would’ve made sure he could hear you.”

Just as he says that, he presses into you. It causes you to tighten your grip in his hair as he stretches you out. You pull him in closer with your legs, a shiver running down your spine as he kisses a sensitive spot on your neck while bottoming out. 

Nanami doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he’s pulling back and thrusting up into you. Mind you, it’s not like you needed much time with how easily he slipped into you. That also is the reason he’s not holding back and going slow. His pace is fast, each thrust pushing into you hard. It’s blissful and has your head falling back against the wall as he makes no error in hitting that spot deep inside of you each and every time. 

You also can’t help but want him more with each word he says. There’s never been a moment you’ve seen him jealous and the fact that he’s voicing it; he’s describing the way he would’ve made that jealousy nonexistent. Each word, you know, is aimed to have that reaction from you. 

It all is so overwhelming as he shows no signs of slowing down. Your senses get even more overwhelmed when one of his hands moves in between your bodies. He begins slowly circling your clit, your head meeting the wall again from the pleasure. 

Nanami presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the exposed skin of your neck. He makes sure to kiss every single spot that he knows gives you goosebumps. It also drives you to pull him in tighter to your body. It’s the only thing you can do to tell him how good you feel. Words are impossible as you whine and moan. It’s a little pathetic how loud you’re being. You can’t help it, though. 

“So tight,” Nanami grits out, his teeth grazing your neck. “Always so good for me. So glad that I’m the only one that gets to know how you feel.”

His words alone have you growing ever closer to the high you’re chasing. He seems to be doing the same as you feel him pound into you even harder. It’s sweet bliss that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his mouth meets yours. 

You eagerly meet him in the kiss. Every single sound from you is swallowed by him. 

“I wonder if he’d like it if we went back with my cum dripping down your thighs,” he growls, his fingers digging into the back of your thigh while his others draw tighter circles around your puffy clit. “You think he’d like that? Showing him who you belong to?”

If you weren’t in this situation, you would usually think he’s insane for suggesting that. Now, though, the prospect only sends a new wave of heat pooling in your lower belly. It makes you wetter, letting your boyfriend slide even easier into your abused hole. 

A smug grin tugs at his lips as he notices this. “So you do?”

All you can manage is a whine, one of your hands now grasping at his clothed back as he drills into your sweet spot. Your high is quickly approaching but he’s still managing to drag it out. 

Nanami hums, that smug smirk once again claiming his lips. There’s an extra glint in his eyes that you don’t catch onto until he’s speaking. 

“Well, we can’t do that, unfortunately,” he starts, pressing his lips to the corner of yours. “However, there is something I can do.”

You can’t help the way your walls flutter around his cock. He hasn’t changed anything about his thrusts other than his accuracy. In the end, it’s making him groan before he dips his head to your neck. 

There’s a moment where he just hovers over your skin, his hot breath fanning over your sweat covered skin. The pause doesn’t last long before you feel his teeth graze your neck. He doesn’t bite down, only tracing small patterns as he suddenly slows his thrusts. 

Confusion fills you, a small sense of frustration filling you when your orgasm escapes you. That is, until Nanami presses a hard thrust into you, his teeth simultaneously sinking into the area between your neck and shoulder. 

A whine escapes you from the sharp sting. At the same time, it only adds to your overall pleasure as he continues to press these slow, hard thrusts into your cunt. Your fingers grip tighter in their respective places as he eases away, using his tongue to soothe the pain. 

Nanami’s pace slowly begins to pick up again as he sucks the skin he bit. It’s almost as if the bite wasn’t enough. He has to bruise the skin simultaneously to prove that you’re his. 

“There,” he whispers, pulling away to admire his work, “now he’ll know that you only belong to me.”

With that, it’s almost like that concluded his business. Instead of drawing it out, he’s finally aiming for what you’ve been looking forward to. He’s angling his hips, once again hitting the perfect angle as his motions on your clit start back up. You’re moaning his name uncontrollably, holding onto him for dear life as he brings you to the edge again fast. 

“S-so close!” You moan, pulling his head into your chest. 

There’s a small growl that leaves Nanami as he adjusts once more, his fingers drawing tight circles against your clit. Your thighs are trembling, arms pulling him as close as possible as you brace for the tension in your core to finally snap. 

“Let go. I’ve got you,” he encourages and it works. You’re practically screaming his name, your vision going white as your high washes over you. 

It’s only drawn out longer and longer with the way Nanami is still pounding into you. His thrusts are growing sloppy, though, as you feel him tremble. You know he’s close and it’s not much longer that he’s cumming inside of you from the way your walls squeeze around him. 

Minutes pass by as both of you come down. You’re both panting before Nanami is pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and slow, a complete 180 from what the moment was. 

Then, “A souvenir for when you see him tomorrow,” he mutters as he presses a light kiss to the mark on your neck. 

Confusion fills you until you remember. You’re supposed to be having a meeting with your ex-friend’s company. And he’s supposed to be there as well as you. So, there was an ulterior motive to your boyfriend marking you other than it being for experience. 

Either way, you’d wear it proudly. Most of all, you’re hoping you can get a moment like this with Nanami again tomorrow before the meeting. Maybe then you can have something a little fresher to show that man tomorrow. 

Now, though, the two of you need to find out how to get out of this elevator. 

- - -

@where-fantasy-meets-reality @thereluctantherosrose @fiona782 @rocknrollsoul76

[robynlilyblack]

Broken

Sirius Black and fem! reader

[Requested – see request here]

Summary: Sirius finds out his girlfriend is suffering from depression

Warnings: Major TW - detailed decriptions of depression and suicidal thoughts, mentions of self harm and scars, one mention of blood, swearing, hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity, insecure reader, one girl being a bit of a bitch

A/n: 4.5k words, Hufflepuff reader, if these topics makes you uncomfortable please don’t read, I’m not trying to glorify mental health issues in anyway, the thoughts and feelings in this story are from my own personal experience when I was at my lowest, this is a really personal piece for me and I knew if I was going to write this request I had to pull from myself so i did also change one part of request ever so slightly so I was more comfortable while writing 💛 I honestly don’t know if anyone will read this one but it was therapeutic for me to pour it all out on the page x

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist

You had always felt disconnected from everyone else, like there was this invisible barrier between you and them, like they were given a manual for life which you somehow missed. When you got your Hogwarts letter you felt special, like this was the reason for why you felt the way you did, thinking that once you got there it was all going to magically fix itself, but it didn’t, it only got worse

You were nervous when your parents wished you good luck and bid you farewell at the platform, but it was an excited kind of nerves. You came across another muggle girl called Lily who you sat with on the train along with her friend Severus, they were kind and Severus were nice enough to let you both know what you were in for. When you got there, you were sorted into Hufflepuff, it hurt a little and it was just your luck you ended up in a different house than the two people you had befriended on the journey, and the fact they also got split you didn’t give you peace, you felt bad for them too.

The girls in your dorm didn’t understand you, you laughed and mirrored them as you always did but that wall was climbing again and thoughts swarmed your head, starting small and building as the years went by;

…Why wasn’t I in the cool house? What’s a mudblood? Do they like me or do the feel obligated because I share a dorm with them? What’s wrong with me? I don’t deserve to be here. I’m not special. I’m broken, we’re broken. I wish I could disappear…

The last one was a recurring thought as you went through phases, light ones were you really did feel happy but something would always happen, triggering it and send you spiralling back down. You managed to deal with it in your own way, picking at your skin became a habit, to start it was just you bored in class and you just squeezed a little bump on your arm, it was satisfying, like popping a pimple, the small bit of pain like a relief. After that day it continued, you picked at the scabs you made, making them bigger, you picked at your back, your chest, your arms, legs…

It slowly got worse and worse, you had to clean the blood off of your shirt as the picking had gotten that bad, wearing jumpers and thick tights to hide it. You were getting changed once in your dorm when someone came in and gasped asking ‘what the hell happened to your back’, someone else spotted it on a day you wore a short-sleeved shirt wondering ‘if you’d been bitten by swarm of flies’. Your parents constantly told you to stop picking, and with the comments you did…well for a short while, when OWL’s came around in 5th year the picking was kept to your back, the rest of your body slowly healing but the scars remained, luckily, they just looked like beauty marks or little freckles.

Things changed in the middle of your 6th year, you had begun to hang out with Lily again which was great, but there was a part of you though that it was because Severus called her a mudblood the year before, there was this lingering feeling that you were her second choice. You were happy to have a friend though, and through her you ended up meeting the infamous marauders. Sirius seemed to like you right away, he always made sure he was seated next to you, trying to strike up conversation. You didn’t know what to do at first, nobody let alone a boy had ever talked to you out of wanting, it was so foreign.

Sirius didn’t give up though, eventually you and he became good friends, you really felt like he saw you, understood you. He opened up to you about his family one night in the astronomy tower, it was the first time you saw the boy who was the sheer opposite of you, the boy that was always happy, cry and break down, baring his insecurities and being so vulnerable with you. You held him that night in your arms, even crying with him and falling asleep holding each other. That morning he kissed you, asking if you to be his and you said yes.

Things went well for the first few weeks but slowly those thoughts crept back…just like they always did;

…What does he see in me? We’re so different. I’m too quiet. You should talk more. I think we’re boring him. I’m not pretty enough for him.  If he finds out how broken we are he’ll leave us. He’s going to leave us. Everyone always leaves. Would anyone miss me if I went away? No one would miss you.  I want to go away. I want to disappear…

You had wanted to tell him about how you were feeling but every time you were about to, you always backed out, scared he wouldn’t understand. Every time before you had tried to put these feelings into words you were met with a generic response like ‘just be happy’, ‘work harder’, ‘power through’ followed by an ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong’

If he asked you to explain it you couldn’t, that was part of the problem, you didn’t know why you felt like this, why you were made this way. You couldn’t explain the urge to lay in bed all day, the lack of enthusiasm to do things you knew you loved but couldn’t in that moment, how you would stop eating properly, stop taking care of yourself. How when it got really bad you didn’t shower, cried randomly one moment then felt utterly numb the next. He would never understand, especially since you, according to the world, had nothing to be sad about, he had it worse, he had been abused verbally and mentally, you had no right to complain when you didn’t have a reason to be ‘sad’, right?

One day you were sitting in the library with the marauders and Lily. You had finished your essay as had Remus and Lily but you all decided to wait for the others. Lily and Remus were in their own quiet conversation that you were awkwardly perched on the end of. You felt so embarrassed just sitting there listening like you were eavesdropping or something, so you sat back removing yourself from Remus’ view on the other side of Lily.

As you let all the thoughts crowd your head, spacing out as you mindlessly doodled on a bit of parchment to seem somewhat occupied, Remus noticed you pulled back. He thought at first, he imagined that look in your eye, the same look he had when he was beating himself up. He didn’t say anything since Sirius would make you smile, pepper kisses across your face to get you giggling, but for some reason he felt like that wasn’t a good plan. It was beginning to happen more often, it wasn’t his place to say anything but he knew he should do something

Remus nudged Sirius’ foot discreetly under the table, thankful for the boys’ slumped seating position so he could reach it. Looking up to see who nudged him or if it was just an accident Sirius caught Remus’ eye, watching him nod to you before returning to his original conversation. Sirius sat up properly, examining your face and body language, you looked so sad it made his heart ache.

He’d noticed, you didn’t think he had but he did, he noticed when you would pull back suddenly, despite your actions being no different he saw the way your smile no longer reached your eyes, the way it seemed like you were thinking, something always on your mind. When you did it with him he was scared that he had been pushing you to go too fast, that sometimes he would be touching you and you were just too nervous to tell him you didn’t like it. After a while he figured out that wasn’t the case, so he started to wonder if it was the rumours that were getting to you, or maybe school stress, or was someone bullying you…his thoughts were relentless. Whatever it was he tried to comfort you, support you, waiting for you to tell him when you were ready.

He shuffled a little closer to you, moving take your free hand which was fiddling with the end of your tie, giving it a gentle squeeze. You stopped doodling as he did this, he watched as your gaze shifted down to them, your lips tugging up a little, that heaviness that surrounded you gone for a mere second before it returned

“Darling” he whispers “You want to go back to my dorm? Or yours?” he suggests leaning his head gently on your shoulder and giving it a quick kiss over the fabric

You stay quiet for a moment before nodding “Can we go to mine?” your voice so quiet but he heard it, he always heard you

“Guys we’re gonna head” Sirius announces pulling back from you, letting go of your hand briefly as you pack up, your movements more sluggish than his

After wishing his friends goodbye he wraps his arm around your waist as you walk, he doesn’t say anything at first waiting until you were in an abandoned bit of hallway “Are you feeling okay?” he stops walking hand moving to check your forehead

Your eyes close as he touches you “I’m fine” you say but you don’t sound it

He brushes some hair from your face before moving his arm back around you and walking again “I’m here if you need me darlin” he gives your waist a little squeeze in reassurance

Sneaking him up to your dorm you seemed to relax “Two of dormmates are having a sleepover and the other is with her girlfriend so they won’t be back until tomorrow” you explain your reason for going here even although he didn’t ask

Sirius smiles taking off his bag and shrugging off his robes, placing both neatly on your desks chair “What you fancy doing?” he asks sitting on the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands

You don’t answer right away just tugging on your bottom lip for a few moments “Can we hug?” you ask hopefully

He chuckles a little which makes you feel silly, when he sees your frown he tilts his head “Aww darling come here” he motions for you to climb on to his lap but you shuffle on your feet embarrassed “Y/n” he leans forward gently grasping your hands and pulling you towards him

“Sorry” you mumble head down looking at your intertwined hands

His eyebrows furrow, letting go of your hands and softly grasping your hips, pulling you closer to him “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for” he shakes his head

“I…I’m…I’m sorry” you repeat pressing your hands to your face to hide the forming tears

Sirius doesn’t say anything just gently encourages you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you protectively as your head, still in your hands, leans on his chest. One of his hands moves to the back of your head, caressing your hair, before leaning his head on yours, placing a kiss to it

A few minutes later you pull back, eyes puffy and raw, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt “You want to talk about it?” he asks softly, the pad of his thumb wiping the tears away from each side of your cheeks

Should you tell him? You knew you should, it wasn’t safe to let yourself do this alone but your fears were getting the better of you “No” you whisper, shaking your head unable to look at him

“You sure?” Sirius moves away the stray hairs that had stuck to your cheeks “You can tell me anything?” his voice wasn’t pleading but it was laced with it, he didn’t want to push you but he was getting worried

“I’m fine, just got a little overwhelmed with my essay…” you were overwhelmed but it wasn’t from school “and it’s just all catching up to me” you give him the best smile you could

Sirius looks into your eyes, like he’s trying to read your mind before he smiles back nodding “Okay darling” he gently pecks your lips “You want to go for a nap and cuddle?” he poses while your hands slip down to your wrist gently scratching at the vein, seeking relief

You nod but he hears the scraping of your nails against your skin, eyes trailing down “Y/n…” he grasps your wrists pulling them away from each other before attempting to inspect the skin but you quickly pull your hands back “Darling?” he looks upset…concerned…maybe heartbroken?

You remove yourself from his lap watching as he reaches out but stops just before his fingers get to you, mouth opening to say something but nothing comes out, what should he say? Did he do something? Why were you hiding your wrist?

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asks the worry evident in his voice as he tries to refrain from letting the tears that were welling fall but when you stay quiet one falls “Please…please I don’t want to push you…I just….just want to help” please let me help

Help you? No one ever offered to help you, they always told you what to “You wouldn’t understand” you shake your hand looking at the floor

“Try me” he holds his hand out towards you, hoping you’ll take it

Instead of speaking you start to unbutton your shirt making his eyes go wide “Y/n w…what are you doing?” he stutters a little going to stop you but you shake your head

You and Sirius had never gone by kissing, you slept next to each other sure but he had never seen you naked, never seen the scars. He had once told you his secrets now it was time for you to bare yours, you weren’t sure if you were ready but there was this tiny voice amongst the noise screaming for you to do it, to tell him.

You continue to remove your shirt, watching as Sirius keeps his eyes fixed on your face as best he can, confusion painted across his. When you finish with the buttons you let the fabric drop to the floor, leaving you in just your bra.

Sirius’ eyes flick down before he closes his eyes, feeling guilty for looking “Siri” you try to get his attention but his eyes remain closed “Please look at me” you ask, sniffling lightly

He looks back up eyes fluttering open, watching you give him a nod before his eyes trail over your body. Your neck, the little blemishes between your breasts, then back to your upper arms and shoulders were there were more little blemishes and finally your wrist. The irritation from your nails still present, faint lines streaking across them.

He lets out a shaky breath as his eyes return to your face, watching as you turn away from him, revealing your back, similar blemishes running from your shoulder blades and down your spine, along with some open cuts…spots? He couldn’t tell

He notices you looking in the mirror, a frown on your face “Y/n” he stands up walking slowly towards you “Can I?” he ghosts his hands over your hips

His hands gently wrap around as you nod, slithering around your waist, hands settling on your stomach “You’re beautiful” he whispers, kissing your bare shoulder as his thumbs rub gently at the elastic of your skirt

You shake your head “You see these” you raise your arm, pointing to one of the blemishes “These aren’t beauty spots, or freckles…or blemishes…” you take a moment to ready yourself “They are scars…and I made them…every one of them I created when I was upset, or nervous…it…it gave me relief” you turn your head to look at him “They’re ugly”

He removes his arms from your front and grasps your hips moving you gently around to face him before cupping your cheeks “They are not ugly. You are not ugly” his voice sincere but firm, licking his lips as he pushes some hair from your face “What…you don’t have to tell me” he adds before asking “What happened to your wrists?” his fingers gently take your hand holding it up

“I scratch at them…I just get the urge to” you try to explain it

He lifts your wrist up to his lips, placing a gently kiss on the scars “Come here” he walks backwards, pulling you with him as he sits on the bed and you settle onto his lap “You said I wouldn’t understand it…was these what you meant…” his fingers glaze one on your clavicle

“A part of it” he nods for you to go on “Sometimes I get these…thoughts, bad ones, and those lead me to picking and hurt…umm…hurting myself”

He winces at the last bit “How can I help?” you tilt your head “What wrong?”

“I don’t know” you answer honestly “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” you start to break down

“There is nothing wrong with you” he looks at you in disbelief, how could an angel like you think that “You are wonderful, whatever is going on it isn’t because you are broken” he tries to reason

You let out a sob “But everyone else…”

“Fuck everyone else…Sorry” he butts in apologising as your eyes blow wide “I’m sorry darling…please continue” he kisses your nose, hand rubbing up and down your arms, soothing the goose bumps that had formed from the cold air of the room

“I’m built…weird…I feel silly all the time, I can’t talk to people, I don’t understand why I can’t be normal like everyone else, why I feel like everyone hates me. I feel fine one minute then and the next all I want to…to…just disappear” it all spills out

“Disappear?” he questions worried that it means what he thinks it does

Your hands go to scratch but Sirius gently takes them into his, lacing your fingers together “Disappear like go away…everyone would be better without me, I’m just a burden” your voice is a whisper at this point

Sirius’ mouth parts, his heart shattering at the confession “How…” he starts to cry “How would the world be better if you weren’t in it?” he pulls you closer to him “Darling”

“I shouldn’t have said anything…” you start to cry as well

“Why?”

“I made you cry” you blub out, you felt terrible, you made the person you love cry over how broken you were

Sirius wrapped his arms around you tightly, head burying itself into the crook of your neck, clinging on to you like he was going to lose you, a mantra of mumbles leaving his mouth that you couldn’t decipher from your own crying and his

The moment was interrupted as the door suddenly opens, Sirius and your heads shooting up to see one of your dormmates walking in “Oh” she looks startles to see you, her eyes trailing over the position you were sitting, the lack of your shirt and the fact both of you were clearly crying “What’s going on?” she asks like it was her business to know

“That’s between me and my girl” Sirius answers for you, voice firm despite the tears, holding you close to him to hide you from her inappropriate stares

She doesn’t look convinced “Your girl? This looks like a break up to me” she scoffs

“No one fucking asked you” he snaps at her irritated “And for your knowledge it isn’t a break up, there is no way in hell I’m every willingly breaking with her. Until y/n’s bored of me she’s stuck with me because I love her…get the hell out I don’t care if your dorm out!” he half shouts the last part pointing for her to leave, he didn’t mean to rant but in his emotional state he couldn’t stop it

“Whatever” the girl shrugs rolling her eyes, closing the door behind her as she walks out

Sirius shakes his head “What is wrong with her…who asks that” he says annoyed while you just look at him in a mild shock, love you, he’d never said that before “Seriously what makes her think she can just assume that and don’t get me started…”

“Siri” you try to interject but he continues

“…on the way she was staring at you, she should have left right away this was a private…”

“Siri” you tug on his shirt, finally getting his attention

“…conversation…” his voice slows down “Merlin…sorry” he leans his forehead in yours

“You love me?” you ask quiet and unsure if you heard him right

He pulls back, cupping your cheeks “Very much…not exactly the way I meant for it to slip out I was planning something much more romantic and less…rave-y” he chuckles a little

Sirius takes a moment to think before looking into your eyes “When you feel that way…feel like you don’t want to be here anymore, tell me…I know you won’t want to…” his eyes become glassy “…but please tell me”

“I’ll try” is all you could say

He gives you a sad smile nodding “Thank you” he kisses your forehead “I do have an idea for how to help with the picking…if you want of course” he asks checking you were comfortable, continuing as you nod “When you feel like picking, take my hand…like this” he laces your hand in his larger one giving it a gentle squeeze “Doesn’t matter if we’re in class or just hanging out, you take my hand…we can try it for a little while see if it helps?”

Your lips tug up ever so slightly but drop again “What do I do when you’re not next to me?” you didn’t want risk becoming completely reliant on Sirius, that wouldn’t be fair on him or you

“You sit with James, Remus and Lily in other classes you aren’t with me and when we’re hanging out as a group so…” he takes a second “with your permission I’ll let them know that if you take their hand you’re a little nervous and they’ve to let you hold it, or if it’s really bad take you somewhere you can calm down” he poses looking for any signs of worry “I won’t tell them any more than that”

You mouth parts, tears in your eyes but they aren’t of sadness “You would really do all that for me, they would really do that?” you check, you didn’t think they actually liked you, just put up with you

“Of course they love you, not as much as I love you but they do” he assures “Lily ever since I met her has talked about how nice you were. I’d heard so much and may have staked you slightly from afar…” he admits making you giggle, the sound warming his heart “…that when she introduced you finally I was so excited” he starts smiling “Remus and James think you’re wonderful, Remus likes having someone that listens and talks to him about books, James loves studying with you because you always doodle the most random things. You know how some of your spare parchment went missing?” you nod “He stole it because you drew a stag, he has it in a little frame in his room”

You let out quick breath “Really?” you say surprised, you couldn’t believe it

“Really” he affirms

You were happy but you also knew that this might not last “Siri…this…these thoughts come randomly, I might start feeling like this again…it goes through phases” a sad look spreads across your face “Sometimes I think I got better but then I just have a setback and realise I’m still broken”

“That’s okay…not…fuck” he cringes “I mean it’s okay that you don’t get better overnight” he says shocking you “Darling there isn’t a quick fix to anything I know that, I’ve watched Remus go through something similar, but over the years with me, James and Pete…” he trails off thinking for a second before reaching over to grab a bit of parchment and his quill, beginning to draw a graph

“Right so this is time” he points to the bottom axis “This is the intensity of the bad feelings or thoughts” he points to the other “So right now it’s like this” he draws a large peak “then it goes down and eventually happens again right?” you nod watching as he draws another peak but its smaller than the last “Each time you feel like this you’ll get a little bit better at dealing with it…” he continues drawing peaks all slowly getting smaller until he draws a larger one again confusing you “…every now and again it’ll get worse, but that’s not a set back because when you look at this on a large scale the trend is going down” he explains “Close up there’s all these bumps in the road” he traces over the peaks “But the general trend is you are…it’s not a fix…it’s more of a way of dealing with it easier, it won’t knock you down as hard as it did before” he looks up at you, cringing a little at he feels he’s lost you “That made no sense did it” he sighs in defeat

“No I…I think I get it” you nod before a grateful look appears on your face “This is the first time anyone’s taken the time to explain this to me…most people say I should just be happy” you mock

“Well they’re stupid” Sirius says plainly making you laugh “Also my statement earlier about fuck everyone else still stands…metaphorically of course I’d prefer you only did the literal with me” he can’t help himself and that earns him a nudge

“Siri” you bite your lip a tad embarrassed, slowly remembering you’ve been shirtless this whole time

Your arms come up to cover yourself, something Sirius notices “Here” he pulls off his jumper, helping you to slip in on “Better?”

“Yeah…thanks” you hug the jumper, sniffing it gently “Can we nap and cuddle now?”

He smiles “Course darlin,” he lets you stand up, moving over to open the covers and letting you crawl in before joining you

He gently fixes the covers and positions you to lay your head on his chest “Siri” you look up at him

“Yeah darling?” he gives you a little squeeze as he looks down

“I love you too” you say with a smile to which he leans down giving you a kiss to the lips

A/n: Truthfully i did’t know how to end it, it is quite long but the ending is a little rushed and i apologise for that 💛

[harventheblorbo]

Loved the one with wheeljack and them comforting their s/o could you do that same one bit with tfp arcee, soundwave, Cliffjumper and Airachnid?

You don’t have to if you don't want to! Have a lovely day and I wish you the best

Arcee, SoundWave, cliffjumper and Airachind comforting their human S/O after a battle ➥

Containing;.. Arcee, Soundwave, Cliffjumper, Airachind and gn! Human Reader

___ is gender neutral and human

Warning; abit of angst, Swearing

Arcee;

Arcee was going on a mission with a few other bots with her and It was taking a long time. It was starting to make you nervous. You knew that she couldn't be defeated so easily which only made you more scared. Arcee knew that this mission would worry you so she tried her best to not get hurt but unfortunately failed. When they were brought back, the horror that you expected was false.

She had barely any marks on her. "Welcome back" Miko greeted them with a toothy grin. "Thanks. Hi, ___" Arcee greeted you. She quickly noticed your mood and how it was affected by her disappearance.

When no one was around and off doing their own thing, she approached you. "I'm sorry... I tried my best to not get hurt." She explained. "It's okay. I was just... Worried that something happened to you" You stated as you soon felt the anxiety left from your chest.

Soundwave➥

Soundwave was off somewhere when you woke up. You normally slept at his workplace so he could watch over you. You were placed as his charge ever since the big man stole you as a mindless pet.

You waited and waited... And waited for him to get back. The longer that he took, the bigger your anxiety grew. 'What if he doesn't come back?' kept repeating in your mind. He had developed a special place in your heart and was scared that he wouldn't be here anymore.

When you heard footsteps you only prayed that it was Soundwave and not knockout breaking the news. It was thankfully Soundwave. When he first stepped into his quarters is when you felt a wave of relief over yourself.

He quickly noticed and gave you a little thumbs up on his visor as he walked closer to his monitor. You hugged his digit when he raised it to smooth you down. "Don't pull any shit like that again." You hissed as you were picked up and placed on his shoulder.

Cliffjumper➥

Cliffjumper was doing an emergency mission that was supposed to be small. But something in your gut told you that something was bad gonna happen. No matter how hard you tried to reassure yourself, it never went away.

It was taking a concerning amount of time for him to get back. When you heard the ground bridge whirr, you stood up from the couch to the railings that were close to the ground bridge so you could see cliff when he went through

Sure enough, he was completely fine. It was a glitch in the system and nothing was wrong. Cliffjumper looked at you and your worried state and walked over to you. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked. "I thought you got hurt or something..." You explained your worries

"Me? Being hurt? Never. Cliffjumper can never even be dented" He reassured you.

Airachind;

Rarely does Airachind goes out on her own missions but this time it was necessary. She didn't tell you what it was for but she just had to go. When she told you that she had to, your anxiety spiked and has stayed the same ever since she left. You two lived in a cabin ever since she cut ties with Megatron and his men

The fact that she had to do something just made you worry and send you down a spiral of thoughts. She couldn't be hurt right? What would you do if she just went missing? You started to think that someone led her into a trap

You heard keys jingle that you knew was Airachind. She opened the doors and was shortly hugged, basically tackled by you. She was In her holoform so she hugged you back.

She released you and had her hands on your shoulders. "Are you alright?" She asked with concern. "You scared me... I thought something happened" You expressed. "Oh, sweetheart... I wouldn't ever do that to you" she voiced as she hugged you.