#dragon ball has me in a choke hold i'm sorry

[rennsdovesarealive]

how do we feel about a dragon ball super fic?

and no this isn't the typical "i'm a sayian on par with goku who is dating Vegeta/Bulma" NO.

this would be a fic where Beerus is "kinda" forced to take care of a kid cause Xeno saw how Goku acted with Goten and decided that everyone should have that happiness (mainly his destroyers, cause their really crusty) and the angel attendants have to pick the kid cause ofc they do.

so Whis runs the situation by Bulma and she waists no time gathering some kids that were really screwed over by the system, all of them older than 10 and there is this 15-year-old girl named Megumi who has been treated horribly and is in the worst case scenario situation (hell even Vegeta and Goku know a bit about her situation and they want to help her out) and Whis takes her and she finally gets the help she needs and yadda yadda... yes? YES?

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Hi! 3 and 7 for the ask, please :)

Sorry it took me a few days to get to this, these are great questions! 3. Which of your fics is most different from what you usually write? This was a hard one for me to answer! I suppose Our Fathers Clad in Red is the first fic I have ever co-written, so even though I do not think it is all that different stylistically or thematically from what I usually write, the process of writing it has been very different, but in a good way. I've learned a lot too-- not to hate outlining for one, and I've learned how having two writers with different but complementary styles can really enhance a piece. @aifsaath is a very talented writer and collaborating on it is so much fun that I would gladly do it again, when a year ago I never would have imagined collaborating on a project in the first place!

7. What's your favorite piece of description or narration? It's probably the second to last scene in Chapter 5 of Our Fathers Clad in Red. The entire scene consists of Aegon alone in bed having a particularly bad morning, and I'm fond of the whole scene, but I'll post the two parts like the best below the cut:

Tears pricked his eyes. Just a nightmare, but for a moment he’d felt as if he were there all over again, on that burning battlefield, the smell of roasting bodies— their own men dying along with Rhaenyra’s loyalists, by which dragon's fire no one could say. Criston Cole had pulled him from the saddle, and this Aegon recalled clearly, for there’d been no poppy milk yet to dull his mind, he’d cursed and had called out, his voice booming across the battlefield, “Your king lives! Protect the king!”

Then there had been pain and choking smoke and a voice murmuring the Mother’s prayer and more voices screaming please oh gods please and get it off him, get it off . There had been a brother’s hand latched to his unburnt hand. “Stay with me,” Aemond had said. Aegon had thought he was dying. He remembered having the wild thought that these were his last moments, and they’d be filled with nothing meaningful, only chaos and burning. There would be no final words, no heartfelt goodbyes, just pain and noise and charred flesh. 

It had taken months for the pain to subside enough for him to manage more than a few moments awake at a time. When he started to be allowed longer periods of awareness, he’d found himself an unrecognizable mass of misshapen flesh, and his skin felt like nothing more than his own funeral shroud. He hadn’t yet then found the will to live. That had come later.

The first few months after that, he’d still wanted to die. He’d stopped begging for it at some point, but every time he’d been woken from the poppy-sleep, he’d prayed that he might not wake again. There had been fevers that would come and go, mild infections. Poppy milk had brought sleep and took away the pain, but it left him groggy and nauseous when it wore off. Food never tasted good, and he wasn’t allowed wine. When he wasn’t sleeping, the pain was constant.

He’d cycled from one misery to the next.  Would that he could say he’d been determined from the start to fight for his children, that he’d thought only of his family, but that would be a lie. At first, there had seemed little reason to live if his life was to be nothing but dream-filled sleep punctuated by hours of agonized awareness.

He clutched the blanket, trying to curl himself into a tighter ball, but his legs would not cooperate. Even the more well healed right leg was stiff from the past week of exertion. He was beyond ashamed to admit that occasionally there were moments when he wondered if it had been worth it, if it was still worth it. He was so tired of it, so sick and tired of living like this. There was not a day when some part of him didn’t hurt. 

Now that he was in the capital once again, holding court, there was the fresh indignity of judgment. Bad enough that his healthy young body was no more, he’d lost his looks too, and his dignity as a man. It was almost too much to bear, the lords asking openly if he could still sire children, the women staring at his scarred face and tittering behind their hands. 

______________________________________________________________

In Aegon’s youth, he’d experienced bouts of melancholy, as his mother had called them. Usually, they happened after a visit with his father, and most often they involved copious amounts of wine. Once he had confined himself to his quarters for nearly a fortnight, sleeping the days away only to wake at night and drink until nearly dawn while scrawling maudlin poetry and composing funerary dirges on his lute. Sing this when I die, he’d write in the margins. Sing this one for father. 

Always, it had been his mother who would eventually force her way in, usually once she realized how long it had been since she’d seen her eldest son. Once, a minor marcher lord had come to court with a trio of beautiful daughters and one equally lovely son. When his mother realized she had not seen him flirting with any of the lord’s children even once, she’d immediately become suspicious and had barged into his room with a troop of maids, directing them to tidy up, and then she’d pulled him from bed, bathed him, clothed him, and fed him as if he were six and not sixteen.

He did not write poetry any longer, or songs. His old lute was in the school room, passed down to the children– Jae hated seeing anyone play it but him, but since Rook’s Rest, he’d not even wanted to try. The last poem he’d written had been an apology to his children and Helaena, for all his failures. He’d left it beside her bed, before he’d flown off to battle. The thought of it made his breath hitch and he pressed his face into his quilts, trying uselessly to staunch the flow of his tears. 

[somebrokensaiyan]

You know how in dragon ball xenoverse 2 you can be like the top soldier in Frieza’s army and the player is basically best buds with Appule? Since Appule is on the table, may I request a male reader that is so busy with work that he hasn’t had any free time? And Appule just misses him too much he just goes up to the reader, talks to him about it, and after the conversation, Appule realizes his feelings for the reader?

🌸Hey lovely! I’m so sorry this took ages! But I’m finally here to give you the Appule content that you deserve!🌸

💗Ps I’m also sorry if I got a little off of what your requested, I hope you still love it-💗

-

-

-

“You’re Too Dear to Me”

Appule x M!Reader

This one has a bit of angst but there’s some good ol’ comfort in the end!

Word count:2,373 words

Warning(s):Swearing, slight homophobia

Type:Oneshot

When you first joined the Frieza Force, as expected, you were placed among the lower ranks until you could prove your worth. At the bottom, you met many other soldiers who seem to all have the same boring personality. Every voice, face, and name blended into one another. No one ever caught your attention or interest or struck any interesting conversation. That was until you came across a soldier by the name of Appule.

When you first met Appule, you both instantly connected. Appule was just such a sweetheart. It was a nice break from all of the gruff, brutish men that surrounded you on a day to day basis(which didn't entirely bother you too much). With Appule's sweet and nervous nature you wondered why he was on the Frieza Force at all, or how he hasn't been eaten up yet.

But you were glad he was here. You couldn't even imagine what your life would be like without him. You realized that for once in your life you actually had something to lose, and you vowed to yourself you damn well wouldn't lose him.

And so you trained. Hard. Ever single day.

You'd take high risk tasks and come back with a new and higher rank every time. A few scars of course too. Scars that you get to show off to Appule!

"Why don't you ever take the easier jobs like everyone else? You're such an over achieving (Y/N)." Appule chuckled as he traced his fingertips across the scars on your skin.

He'd always say that after you came back from a mission all scathed. He'd always say it in a light tone, but he hated seeing you like this. He hated seeing you hurt, knowing you're missions are only going to get more extreme from here on out. He's witnessed it firsthand plenty of time before after all. All the rookie recruits way over their heads and set on being the best, all whom rarely lasted a month. He did have hope for you though. He knew you were different. He could just feel it.

"There's no risk without reward! And the reward is pretty sweet." You replied.

"Yeah..." Appule half-chuckled.

You looked to see Appule hanging his head, his gaze at the floor and his shoulders slack.

"Hey, what's up buddy?" You said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It's just..." Appule looked up at you, locking eyes for a moment. "Don't...forget about me okay?"

"...what?" You titled your head.

"You've really been climbing up the ranks (Y/N)... and...I am...so, so proud of you but...I'm afraid with every step you take, you'll leave me more and more behind." Appule clenched his fist as he tried to let every word fall off his tongue without his voice choking up.

"Appule...Buddy...I would never forget about you...how could I? Come on...you can't get rid of me that easily!" You said, giving him a light punch in the arm.

"OWWWWW!!" Appule yelped.

"OH SHIT SORRY-" You panicked realized how much strength you accidentally put into that punch. "I underestimated my self- a-are you okay???" You say, keeping a safe distance between you and your hands.

"Y-yeah- I'm fine..." Appule chuckled with a pained smile.

"I'm- I'm going to grab an ice pack for you- do you- do you want an ice pack?" You ask as you start making your way out Appule's room.

"YES PLEASE-" Appule said still holding onto his arm.

"I'm going to get you an ice pack-"

There was so much more that Appule wanted to say to you that night. That night when he finally realized just how enamoured he had become with you. How much he really couldn't bare to lose you. But he knew he'd probably lose more than he gained with confession like that. He didn't even know if you were into men, and even if you were, he highly doubted you'd be into a man like him.

He just didn't want to lose you.

He couldn't.

But...he was starting to.

You kept getting assigned more and more dangerous missions because no one else could or would take them. Causing you to see Appule less and less.

Appule would often call you and ask to hang out and watch a movie, and you would often have to turn his offers down after being exhausted from your last mission, knowing you had another the next day you needed to be ready for.

Appule would never even catch you walking the same halls as him anymore. The most he'd see you is passing by one another in Frieza's throne room. A place where you could never have idle chat. Only smiles and silent waves.

Appule's calls soon ceased. There was nothing but radio silence between the two of you for a long while. It seemed he finally accepted that he has once again been left to be forgotten.

Until a particular call found it's way to Appule.

"Appule Speaking." Appule said, answering the call.

"Appule, this is Zarbon. I know you and (Y/N) are very close so I think it's best that you hear this... I just got word that (Y/N)'s last mission didn't go as planned and he's now being rushed to medical. His condition is...I'd advise you get there as soon as you can."

Appule felt his stomach sink as he heard those words.

He immediately terminated the call and began sprinting to Med.

"No (Y/N). Not like this...please...please...I can't lose you. I need you..." Appule pleaded within his mind as he ran as hard as he could.

It was there that he managed to catch you just as they were bringing you in.

"(Y/N)!" Appule's voice cried out.

"A..Appule?" You strained.

Appule's heart damn near shattered when he heard how weak your voice sounded.

"(Y-Y/N), oh my- what happened to you?! Is he going to be okay? is he going to be okay?!" Appule's sobbed as he saw just how broken up you were. He's seen many other soldiers as injured as you were. He knew those soldiers rarely came out alive.

"Someone get him out of here." An irritated doctor commanded.

The two soldiers that carried (Y/N) in had began escorting Appule out.

"NO! STOP! PLEASE! I need to be with him!" Appule shouted, struggling against the two who had his arms locked.

The soldiers just chuckled to each other.

"So it is true huh?" The shorter solider chuckled. "You and (Y/N)?"

"Don't worry, you'll see your boyfriend soon enough. Once they bring the body bag to carry him in." The taller one joked, causing both of the soldiers to erupt in laughter.

Appule managed to break one of his arms free and jab his elbow in the taller soldier's stomach, and then biting the shorter's tail.

"OWWWWW!"

"FUCKKK!"

One soldier haunched over holding his stomach, while the other teared up holding his tail.

"HE BIT MY FUCKING TAIL!" The shorter one yelled.

"WheN ThE fUCK diD he gET sTRONG?!" The shorter one strained.

Appule rushed back into the medical room, seeing the doctor struggling to get you into the recuperation tank.

"Finally... can you two idiots help me get him u- What? You? Oh whatever- JUST HELP ME-" The doctor yelled, frustrated as he nearly dropped you on the floor.

Appule wasted no time rushing over to assist the doctor in getting you situated and stationed in the recuperation tank.

The doctor started up the tank which soon began filling up with healing liquid. You were so still. The only sign that you were still breathing were the bubbles that'd exit your mask every few seconds.

"So...." Appule looked at the doctor, his voice and body trembling. Afraid to ask his question. "Will he-"

"He's stabilized. His wounds were incredibly extensive, worser than he's ever had before." The doctor sighed and cleaned his glasses. "Only time will tell." The doctor said walking away to go sit at a desk.

Appule stayed by the tank. Watching each breath you took, so fearful they'd cease.

"Y/N..." his voice whimpered softly to himself as he sat down by your tank.

~~~

There's no telling how many hours had gone by until the doctor finally came by and found Appule just sitting there, a broken man by the tank. He just sighed and patted him on the shoulder.

"C'mon sport. Help me get him out. He should regain consciousness soon." The doctor said as he began draining the healing liquid from the tank.

Appule's tear stained face lit up when he heard the doctor's words and was quick to get on his feet.

"He's okay?" Appule asked, tears threatening to well up in his eyes again.

"He's going to experience a bit of fatigue for a few days so make sure he doesn't do any work for a while. He may be a bit sore but that's nothing new to him."

There are no words to describe how happy and relieved the doctor's words left him feeling. He wasted no time helping him get you on a bed and situated for when you awoke.

Bright lights fought with your ability to see clear or open your eyes as you came into consciousness. Your vision had been blurry as you looked around trying to gather your senses. It took a few tries before you were finally able to make out a familiar shape.

"A...ppule?" You tried to speak. You saw Appule smiling...but he was also crying. "Appule- h..ey- wha..wr..ong...bud…?"

"YOU NEARLY DIED YOU BIG DUMB IDIOT!" Appule yelled at you as his slammed his fist into your gut before laying his arm atop you and resting his head on your chest as an embrace. "D-dont ever scare me like that again okay?!"

You looked down at Appule as he sobbed on your chest. You wasted no wrapping your arms around him and holding him close.

"Hey now...I'm okay Appule...you have nothing to worry about...I'm fine see?" You said, trying to reassure him.

Appule lifted himself up to look you in the eyes.

"But it's not fine..." He said. "This isn't okay...why do you do this? You know it's only going to kill you! It's practically killed you already...you're not you anymore..you've changed..."

"I...have?" You asked.

"Yes...you're so...so distant now...I never get to see or hear from you anymore...you..forgot abo-"

"No.." you cut him off. "I told you..." You cupped the side of his face, making him go stiff as you looked so intensely into his eyes. "I would never forget about you. I could NEVER, forget about you, Appule. You're far too...dear to me..."

Appule looked deep into your gaze before his lip began to quiver once more, a tear falling from his face as he asked "then why? Why do you still do all of this? Why do risk so much? Do you want to be number one so badly?"

"I never did this for the ranks Appule....I did it for you. I just...wanted to be strong. Strong enough to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe and destroy anyone who so much as looked at you funny. I'll admit..I climbed higher than I needed too. I should've backed down the moment we began losing one another, and for that I am..so sorry." You confessed to him.

"You..." Appule stared at you, wide-eyed for a moment. "You did all of this...for me...?"

You simply nodded before Appule embraced you once more.

"You...big dumb idiot..." He chuckled between soft receding sobs.

"Hey, I'm only a big dumb idiot for you." You laughed.

Appule leaned in on you as he laughed. You leaned in as well, laughing and basking in this beautiful and soft moment.

Once you and Appule's laughter died down, you were left with the silence of your shared gaze. Your face had been so close to his, and as much as Appule tried to hide it, you caught him glancing at your lips before he began leaning back.

However, you were quick to stop him as you place your hand behind his head, pulling him close once more so that you could place a soft kiss on his cheek.

He stares at you stunned for a moment.

"Hmm..." You hummed. "Didn't know you could turn red."

Appule sputtered for a moment before pulling you into a sloppy, but loving kiss.

You wasted no time leaning in and holding him tightly to your frame.

"Y/N- suffocating- sUFFOCATING" Appule wheezed.

"Oh right- sorry-" You said, loosening your embrace.

"Ahem..."

You both turned your heads to see the doctor with his arms crossed. You and Appule began to sputter and try to play off the situation best you could, but the doctor simply shook his head.

"Look. I don't care if you kids make out or create some abomination of an offspring. I ask that you simply don't do it in my workspace." The doctor said.

"Sorry-" You said. "We'll get out of your hair right away-"

"Yeah-" Appule nodded as the doctor just walked away, back to his desk.

When he was out of sight you and Appule looked at each other and erupted in a small fit of giggles.

"Alright...let me get you back to your room..."

Appule helped get you from the table and to the floor. He put your arm around his shoulder to help support you when you walked, but you only winced and yelled in pain when he did this.

"WHAT- Oh Y/N I'M SO SORRY- Are you alright what happened?!" Appule asked as he tried to figure out what ailed you.

"My arm- AGH- it-..." You sucked in a quick breath through gritted teeth.

"I'm so sorry Y/N- show me where does it hurt- doctor- DOCT-" Appule began freaking out until you started laughing.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just messing with you." You said between laughs until you felt Appule throw a surprisingly hard punch into your arm.

"OWWWWW!!"

[gallickingun]

May I request a Praise kink! Dom! Mirio x Reader drabble that doesn't use Sunshine as a nickname? (My mom's name is Sunshine and I feel icky about being called it){I'm sorry if this breaks a rule in your ask system but I can't access them from mobile}

a/n: of course! i didn’t do as much size kink with this one and focused more on the praise. i hope you like it! 💕 also when did i become a mirio blog like damn this is so long lol 

tw: praise kink; soft dom!mirio; daddy kink (i’m sO SORRY I CAN’T HELP IT); sub!reader; fingering; oral; kinda a crybaby reader? idk if that’s a tw now, but i did want to just put it here!

ps, reminder that ~drabble requests~ are open! currently accepting for bnha, haikyuu, jujutsu kaisen, a:tla, & dragon ball!

“That’s it,” Mirio’s voice is like honey in your ears, dripping down your spine to pool in your stomach, settling hot and heavy against your insides. He kisses your cheek and leans back on his thighs to watch where his fingers have speared your cunt wide open, “That’s my girl, look at how pretty you are all laid out for me.”

He pauses, and then tilts his head, blue eyes swirling with something akin to frantic worry, “It is just for me, i’nnit baby?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah!” You squeeze your eyes shut so hard it pushes your tears from your ducts, and a moan is ripped from your lungs as his second knuckles push deeper into your swollen lips. When you get your bearings straight, and are able to look him in the eye again, your lower lip is wobbling but you manage to push more words out despite yourself, “J-Just for you, T-Toga-”

Mirio cuts your stuttering sentence short with a warm, firm kiss to your lips. His mouth is searing hot, and your noses bump when he presses too eagerly into you. Your jaw falls slack as his digits piston forward, thick and slick, and nearly rip another orgasm from your belly while his mouth is preoccupied with your bared neck.

You know that there will be dozens of marks littered across your body in the morning, but you don’t have the wherewithal to tell him to quit. Your skin is simmering with a wanton heat, insatiable in your need to have him closer, closer, closer. It’s concerning how no matter how many times he helps you fall apart, you’re still yearning for more. 

He huffs out a breath, releasing the cleft of skin he had captured between his teeth so he can look down at you - breathless and beautiful and begging, still - and that beautiful grin overtakes his features, stretching pink lips to bare beautiful pearlescent teeth. You reach a palm up out of instinct alone, a wobbly elbow barely able to hold you anything close to steady, “I-I love you, Togata, I l-love, I love you.”

Mirio tils his head so he can kiss you on the wrist. Your pulse point stutters underneath his mouth and he revels in the knowledge that only he has the capability to wear you down in such a way that has you pleading for another piece of his soul, as if yours might not be whole without him there to fill the gaps. He sighs, warm breath spilling down the length of your forearm and driving a shiver up your spine.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” his voice is gravelly, like it hurts to push out the words, but he repeats them regardless, this time looking into your glassy eyes so you know he’s telling you the truth. He smiles again, turning so his cheek is pressed fully into your palm, “You’re doing so good, such a good girl. You think you’re ready for me, now?”

The nodding of your head is a mix of frantic and eager, your pupils blown wide as your mouth parts out of lascivious desire alone. His expression softens at your fervor, dimples fading as he shifts his hips so he’s positioned between your knees. Mirio’s knuckles slowly drag out of you, scissored slightly so your precious walls will not be fooled into thinking the onslaught is over. No, it has only just begun; Mirio does nothing in small measures, including the heft that is sported between his hips.

Your little hand reaches forward out of pure need and you can barely wrap your digits around him fully, but that does not stop you from trying. He hums out a laugh that sounds curiously like fondness, and then kisses your knee, pushing it further away so your cunt is butterflied open, lips slightly parted so he can see the depths of your body for himself. You grunt, bent forward at an odd angle so you can watch the sanguine cockhead bulge under your ministrations. Mirio’s chest shakes with a moan, eyelids threatening to slip closed when he feels your soft palm envelope his shaft.

“P-Princess,” he rests his forehead against your knee, hiding his sapphire irises from your gaze. You love the way the nickname tumbles from his lips, so you push the pillow under your shoulder blades to aid in your actions of leaning forward so you can wrap both hands around his dick, thumbing at the veins and the darkened shaft, watching closely as the pre drools from his tip. You lick your lips and Mirio watches your pinkened tongue part your teeth to expose itself and your intentions.

“Please?” you beg, eyes wide and fingers needy. You tongue the air in front of you, the tip of your muscle pointed with the way you flex it, “W-Wanna be good for you, make you feel good!”

His canine tooth catches the corner of his mouth, a flash of pain shown in his bright eyes, but it subsides when he sees how badly you want to prove to him that you could devour him whole if only he’d give you the chance.

“You’re being so good,” he murmurs, dipping his head down to kiss you on the mouth, thumb finding your clit as he sandwiches his thick forearm between your torsos. You mewl, kicking your feet at the newfound jolts of pleasure making their way up your body with each circling of the pad of his finger against that sweet, soft bundle of nerves you keep hidden from everyone but him. Mirio volleys teeth and tongue and lips back and forth with you while you both focus on one another’s sensitive spots, your hands flicking upward against the head of his dick before slowly shifting back down, squeezing him at different points to elicit those salacious moans from the depths of his chest. And his fingerprints drag along the soft folds that are tucked between your hips, never pushing too deep, but reminding you that he’s near and ready whenever you ask to bring forth yet another crashing wave of pleasure if only you just ask him to. 

He nips your lower lip and then kisses the corner of your mouth, blinking slowly so he can look you in the eyes, “Such a perfect little one for me, yeah? You’re so pretty and sweet and soft, fuck you’re soft. These cute lips and that adorable cunt. You’re so wet for me, sweetheart.”

All you can do is nod, words negligible at this point. You know he doesn’t need your assurances anyway. You tilt your chin so you can reach his mouth again, whining against his lips as your wrist angles to drag over the thick head of his cock one last time before you part.

“I want to taste you, Daddy,” your voice is small, mouth pulled into a pout that he pulls back to examine while he stills his fingers against your labia, slick and dripping onto the sheets beneath him. Mirio sighs, his cock twitching at the thought of your delicate mouth wrapped around whatever bit of him you’re able to swallow.

“C’mere,” he turns his body so he’s laid back on the mattress, arm tucked behind his head as he guides you with his free hand against the back of your neck. He thumbs at the skin there, rough fingers nothing but gentle while he handles you. You note each scar on his body as you trail your fingers over his skin, waiting as he settles into the plush down of the mattress. Your head finds his hip, one leg slung over his calf so your cunt is bared to his knee, if you wish to grind down on it. The heel of your hand rests on his thigh, near his balls, and your fingertips ache to reach between the thickest parts of him to touch what is usually hidden to the world, but always bared to you.

“Be careful, baby,” Mirio’s voice is a warning, “don’t hurt yourself.”

Oh, that sounds like a challenge if there ever were one. 

You part your lips and lick at the tip of his cock, drooling with a pearlescent bead of pre, saltine and delectable. Your eyelids shutter closed simultaneously with the moan that shakes Mirio’s entire body. His hand digs deeper into your neck on either side, fingers buzzing with the need to push your precious mouth down until your face is buried into the vee of his hips and your mouth is drooling around his cock. He withholds himself, though, knowing that you need to prove to yourself what you can do with whatever parts of your body you wish to use.

One hand stays wrapped around the base of him, your eyes near crossing as you watch the blushing tip of his cock tremble under your gaze. You look up for his permission, hazy eyes somehow finding him, and you wait for him to nod before you begin to suckle on the head of his dick. The corded muscles of his thighs are shuddering with each bob of your head, his abdomen muscles flexing as he restrains himself from pushing you too far.

“That’s’a good girl,” he grits his teeth with each syllable, tilting his jaw so he can watch your eyes water with how you try to take too much to start. You choke and gag when you attempt to put your nose to his blonde curls, the tip of him brushing your uvula and dragging out your gag reflex. Tears soak your cheeks and drool dribbles down either corner of your mouth, and Mirio has to guide your face away from his cock before you try to go again in spite of your reaction.

After a few more attempts to draw your mouth down to the base of his cock unsuccessfully, Mirio lets out a patronizing chuckle, dragging you by the neck so you won’t continue your assault and make yourself sick. Your thighs latch around his leg, cunt dripping on his knee, begging like a child for him to let you go so you can prove something to him.

“Stop it.”

You blink once, looking him in the eyes, “B-But-”

“What did I say?”

A fresh set of tears stain your cheeks and the sheets, and Mirio gathers you up in his arms and sits forward so you’re tucked against his lap, “Feel that?” He’s talking about the way his cock bobs against your belly, bubbling with arousal and begging to be sheathed inside of you. He noses your cheek, “You did that. All you, baby. With that pretty mouth and those sweet hands. You did such a good job. Such a good girl for me, yeah?” 

You whine, dropping your head to his shoulder but keeping your head lilted so you can look down at his dick, watching as it twitches with every move that you make. You want to reach your hands down to take him between your fingers, to push him over the edge as he’s already done for you three times tonight. You want to give him everything he’s gifted you and so much more.

“I know what you want, honey,” he’s quiet but in the emptiness of your room it feels so loud. Each word sends a shockwave to your core and you shiver at the sound, “W-Want you, Daddy. Just want you.”

“I know, baby,” and this time it is almost sad the way he says it. He takes a deep breath and tilts your head with his thumb beneath your chin, “Let me take care of you, okay? You took such good care of me, now it’s your turn.”

He wordlessly hauls you up by the waist with minimal effort, and looks you in the eyes, “I want you to guide me, okay? I want you to show me where you want me.”

You nod and reach down so your hands are wrapped around the very end of his cock, bobbing your fingers up and down just to milk what’s left of the sweet spurt of pre so his tip is drooling, and then you position his dick so it will split your cunt in two. Slowly, Mirio drops you down, watching your hands fall away so he can get an eyeful of his cock as it spreads your lips and disappears, inch by inch into your sweet, slippery pussy. 

“That’s my girl,” he grunts, allowing you to fall forward so your hands are on his chest, bracing you before you take his entire length up into your stomach. Tears surface on your lids and he’s quick to kiss the corners of your eyes until they’re gone, “Sweet girl, don’t cry. You’re doing so good for me. I can’t wait to fuck this perfect cunt, can’t wait to give you all I’ve got.”

“Want it, Daddy, want it! I-I can take it! P-Promise-” You sob as you try to roll your hips, but his palms are steady against your body, which only makes you more frustrated that he won’t let you show him that you can be a good girl, that you can take his cock and do it well. 

Mirio is a sunbeam incarnate, all light and shine, warmth and something husky that reminds you of a sunny afternoon. So when he speaks, you listen, and you take each of his words and run them through your gummy mind until you’re sure you’ve heard him right.

“I know you can, baby girl,” he rotates your hips with the heels of his palms and you gasp as he spears you wide open, “You can do anything you set your mind to. But let go, and let Daddy take care of you this time, okay?”

Your whimpering is cut short when you feel the head of his cock brush your cervix and whatever comes next you can hardly remember except the sound of his name on your lips and the way he burns you alive only to soothe the ache when it’s all over hours later into the night.

[vannahfanfics]

Wounds

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Mirajane Strauss, Laxus Dreyar

Hi, everyone! Hoping to sneak in an event or two for @ftguildevents​' Slayers' Week! This story is for the Day 1 Prompt "Scars." Enjoy! 

As rain plummeted from the cloud-choked night sky by the buckets, Laxus Dreyar hobbled up to the Fairy Tail guild. His clothes were torn to shreds, and blood leaked from dozens of gashes littering his body. They ranged in size from cat scratches to massive, gaping wounds deep to the fat. The blood dripped down his dark clothes to drop into the water puddled ankle-deep in the streets before disappearing into wispy pink clouds. Water streamed down his face in rivulets from his drenched blonde hair that slicked to his head, which hung low, chin nearly touching his chest as he shambled wearily up to the building. Laxus' boots clunked against the damp wood of the guild steps as he slowly climbed them one laborious movement at a time. 

The windows were dark save for the reflection of the street lamps on the marbled glass panes. That was to be expected, considering it was nearing midnight, and most of the guild members had retired to their beds. The door released a gravelly groan of protest when Laxus pushed it open. The howling wind sprayed raindrops over the welcome mat and wood flooring; Laxus' blood discolored them as well when he staggered over the threshold. 

"Fuck," he cursed softly under his breath as a particularly deep wound in his left thigh blazed with fiery pain. He just barely stumbled to the closest table, and collapsed with an agonized groan against the cold wood. He lay there with his cheek pressed against the grainy surface, one eye screwed up in pain. Get up, Laxus. This is nothing! he insisted. His body ached too much to comply, so he continued to slump there, feeling the hot, sticky blood dribble down his calf. 

Suddenly, the dismal gloom fled with the oncoming of a soft yellow light. Laxus lolled his head to see Mirajane holding up an oil lamp and hurrying over from the bar. A smear of blood marred the tabletop as he lifted his head to blink blearily at the white-haired woman. Tutting under her breath, she set the oil lamp down, casting them both in its warm creamy glow, and drank in his disheveled appearance. 

"Oh, Laxus…"

"It's nothing," he gruffed. His body contradicted him; as he moved to straighten up, the gash under his seventh rib sent his intercostals spasming, making him cry out and resume hunching over the table. Mirajane's dainty hands slid onto his broad shoulder as she leaned over him. "I'm… fine…" he lied weakly. Mirajane pursed her lips. 

"You are most certainly not fine! You're bleeding everywhere!" she whined loudly, and he smirked despite himself. Spirited as ever… "Stay right here. I'm going to get the first-aid kit," she instructed, already walking back towards her counter. Laxus did as bid; there was nothing for it. If he attempted to leave, Mirajane would just drag him back- maybe even in one of her sadistic devil forms. He shuddered just imagining it. No, he definitely preferred to continue bleeding on the furniture, thank you very much. 

Mirajane's clacking heels announced her return. She eased into the space beside him, blank-faced as she flipped open the plastic case that contained an assortment of bandages, cotton balls, and packets of ointment and antiseptic. She also had brought a needle and roll of twine, and damp rags. Laxus watched her coat one of the cloths with hydrogen peroxide. Her movements were much too practiced. 

"Let me see your leg," she ordered. Laxus obeyed, but hissed in pain as he shifted to present his left leg to her. She stretched it out over her lap and used a pair of scissors to snip the blood-soaked fabric of his pants away from the gaping cut in the meat of his thigh. "This is going to hurt," she warned before pressing the rag down hard into the wound. Laxus jolted and yelled a series of unflattering expletives. The blue fabric of the cloth flooded purple as his blood soaked deep into the fibers; as Mirajane staunched the wound, however, the flow gradually ceased. She tossed the blood-soaked towel aside to press another in its place. Much less blood stained the fabric this time. "You're lucky it missed the artery, or you'd be dead." 

"Lucky me." 

Mirajane's eyes were chips of ice as she glared out of the corners of her eyes at him. He squirmed uncomfortably in the face of her venom. She's angry… He winced as she pushed harder on the rag, and he wasn't sure if it was because she needed to apply pressure or if it was revenge for his apathy. Her eyes fixated on the deep wound hidden beneath her hands, which were smeared with blood too. Seeing her bottom lip quiver, he exhaled deeply through his nose. 

She finally pulled the damp rag away. The wound was clean, showing the lacerated muscle tissue. She stoically took the needle and nylon thread, as well as a syringe of anesthesia. Laxus winced when she plunged the needle into his thigh, feeling the stinging lidocaine and epinephrine pulse through the meat. She poked at his leg a few times and, when he didn't react, regarded it to be numb. She began sewing up the wound, winding the thread through the gap to pull the muscle fibers and skin together. When she was tying off the knot, he decided perhaps he should say something, as the silence was driving him mad.

"Mira, I-"

"Don't do that!" she snapped, throwing the twine and needle aside then grabbing the bandages. She unwound them and yanked up Laxus’ leg with no care at all, making him grunt. Her eyes flickered to him, and then her body relaxed as she forced the tension out of it. "You don't get to do that," she murmured and began gently winding the bandages around his thigh. It was awkward, as she had to dip in below the fabric of his pants. He watched her with a sour taste blooming on his tongue, because tears were beginning to glimmer on her white lashes. "You don't get to just waltz in here all bloody and beat up for me to fix you. One day, I might not be able to, and what then? What then, Laxus?" His lips drew into a thin line. One of the tears dropped from her chin to drop down into the wound. The salt stung, but her words stung more. 

She sighed deeply and tied off the bandage, then tiredly gestured to his chest. "Take off your shirt…" Laxus complied, grimacing as he reached over his back to tug the garment up. It caught on his biceps, smudging it with more blood; the friction made his wounds scream. The gash in his ribs was particularly vocal, making him lock up and hold the shirt above his head. Mirajane tutted and reached up to gently ease it the rest of the way. It dropped to the floor, and her hands dropped to his pectorals. Her fingers skated over the many abrasions and small cuts decorating his chiseled muscles. 

"Blade magic," he explained as she counted the wounds, one by one. "Some asshole from a Dark Guild-" 

"I'm well aware. I read the request," Mirajane quipped tartly. She retrieved a cotton ball and doused it in antiseptic, then began dabbing it over the various wounds. "It was asinine for you to go alone. Why didn't you take the others?" Laxus wrinkled his nose at her blatant chiding and leaned back on his hands. 

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"Mhmm, and look where that foolishness has landed you," came her haughty retort. Laxus flinched as she pressed on one of the deeper nicks unnecessarily hard. "You've come a long way, Laxus, but you're still pigheadedly reckless," she breathed forlornly. Her hands faltered to drop into her lap, and she stared at her blood-smudged palms with fresh tears brimming in her eyes.

"Mira," he sighed again, and she didn't interrupt him this time. He shifted uncomfortably as guilt began to prickle his heart with sharp little needles. Begrudged as he was to admit, it was unwise of him to challenge such a villain alone. Mirajane usually was the one to patch him up after his… misadventures, so she had seen him in such a sorry state time and time again. She had never scolded him so fiercely before, nor had she been so openly melancholy. Grimacing, he reached up to sweep a swathe of her snow-white hair behind her ear. "... Forgive me. I've hurt you."

She nodded, her throat constricting as she swallowed down a sob. She pressed her cheek into his large, rough-skinned hand, and the feeling of her soft skin rubbing the hard callouses sent shockwaves pulsing through his nerves. Tears dripped from her eyes, and he swept the ones running down her right cheek away with his thumb. Mirajane hardly ever cried, and the fact that this episode was his fault sent cold guilt flushing through his nerves. 

"You're damn right," she exhaled shakily. The angry flush in her cheeks and her wobbling bottom lip betrayed her tough façade. Her hand rose to enclose around the one cupping her face, and Laxus was surprised to feel her fingers quivering. She fluttered her eyelashes a few times to dislodge the clinging dewdrops of salty water before looking at him intently. "Laxus, I know we've been ignoring this… thing between us, but I can't any longer. Not when you keep doing this to yourself," she sniffed in agony. His gaze followed her other hand as it ghosted not over his current wounds, but the scars that joined them on the landscape of his body. "Not when we're like this…" 

Laxus wasn't fool enough to be ignorant of what she spoke of. An understood attraction had existed between them for some time now- ironically borne of nights like this, when the dragon-slayer had stumbled in bloody and beaten, and Mirajane played the doting yet stern nurse. The guild walls had borne witness to many a deep conversation in the early hours of the morning. The two of them were privy to secrets and fears and doubts no one else in the world knew. Laxus had always been emotionally constipated and found difficulty in expressing his innermost feelings. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure what he was feeling, and usually, that made him angry. Still, Laxus knew enough to know that he loved Mirajane. 

Yes. Laxus loved Mirajane. He loved how beautiful she was, inside and out; her radiant smile and gorgeous winter-snow hair and bright eyes were but a window to the beautiful soul within. He loved how she could flip a switch and become feisty and powerful and domineering. He loved her motherly tendencies and fierce loyalty to the guild. Mirajane was, through and through, a fantastic person. 

So he hated himself because of that. Mirajane loved him enough to wait in the guild until the wee hours of the night when he went on missions to see when he would come straggling in. She loved him enough to tend to his wounds, wind him head-to-toe in bandages, and only say a few chiding words. She loved him enough to hold her tongue until the moment she burst. 

How could Laxus not see that he was breaking her heart because of that love?

She woefully buried her face in her hands. "I can't live with loving you while I'm wondering if this is the last time I'll ever see you alive," she sobbed. Her slim shoulders shook as she cried petulantly. Watching her sob made every scar that marred Laxus’ body begin to burn like the first moment the wounds had been inflicted. They had hurt then, but Laxus had been remiss to consider something important. 

How could Laxus not see that every wound inflicted upon himself was yet another scar on Mirajane's already scarred heart?

Laxus exhaled and leaned forward- the best he could with his leg still propped and his rib wound still oozing blood- to wrap his arms around Mirajane. He hugged her to his chest, burying his face into her scalp and running his fingers through her rivers of snow-white hair. She pressed her nose into his sternum with a low, mournful whine and wrapped her arms around the circumference of his torso, her hands splaying over his deltoids as she pressed every inch of herself possible against him. 

"I'm sorry, Mira. I'm so sorry." She sniffed miserably and turned so that her cheek pressed against his chest. She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her palm, but neglected to respond. Frowning, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "I'll do better. I promise."

"You'd better," she huffed while defiantly puffing out her cheeks, "or next time, you'll be nursing the wounds I give you." Laxus dryly laughed and buried his face further into her hair, inhaling her vanilla coffee scent. 

"Yeah," he smirked. "Sure thing." 

With a deep breath, she pulled away from him, shaking out her long hair before drawing it behind her shoulders. 

"All right. Let's take care of this last cut," Mirajane smiled warmly and set to staunching the wound. She had to lean close to get the proper leverage, her head hovering just underneath his. Laxus stared at her a moment, then slipped a hand underneath her chin to slowly tilt her head back. Her mouth parted into a ring shape, about to ask what he was doing, but he swallowed her words by sealing their lips together. She sighed slightly into the kiss, pressing against him and moving her mouth in tandem with his. He rubbed his free hand up and down her forearm. Goosebumps rose in his wake as his touch made her hair stand on end. When he pulled away, still pinching the end of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, her eyelashes fluttered several times. A pink haze rose to her cheeks. 

"Don't think that gets you off the hook," she huffed and looked down at the wound. She pressed hard against it again, for the surprise kiss had relaxed her muscles. "I'm still mad at you."

"But you still love me?" He asked smugly and propped his elbow on the table. She huffed and applied more pressure, making him growl. She then smiled tenderly, and her gaze flickered to his face. 

"Of course I do… even if you're the most reckless idiot in the world." 

"Hey," he complained indignantly, "I can think of a handful of people more worthy of that title."

"You'll have to prove it to me," she shrugged cockily and smirked back down at the cut. Laxus snorted, but leaned in to press another chaste kiss to her lips. 

"Fine, fine…" He twinged when she pushed on the wound again. Obviously, she desired a more convincing answer. "I promise! Gah! Just stop hurtin' me, damn woman." She giggled mischievously and stuck out her tongue. 

"Can't help it. I am a sadist, you know." He rolled his eyes and relaxed against the table as she prepared to stitch the wound shut. Smiling, he watched her work through one cracked eye. 

Unlike all times before, Mirajane had a serene smile on her face as she patched him up. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​ @searchfortheonepiece​

[minghaoss-archive]

mercury• lee taeyong(m)

taeyong ruins you, in more ways than you'd expect.

1, part 2

"do not mistake this myth for love, that is a different kind of burning."

.......

Taeyong grants you every little thing you ask of him, be it his touch or his defense but you regret wishing him of something which risks you seeing him ever again.

Your head hurts as the memory sets in, the wine doing little to mitigate the choked sobs you’re accustomed to. This picture that you can’t take your eyes off, it’s all your fault.

A week ago

Hendery looks like he's holding in dragon's breath when he looks at you. You search his face, a thick lump caught in your throat. In the warm glow of the camp fire, his pinkish face looks beautiful, you think, he's beautiful, but it's a little to late for you to shower him in accolades.

In his twist of emotions of creased brows, swollen and bitten mouth, it's almost as if someone ran a stake through his heart, his fist is rolled up in a ball of pale knuckles. From the looks of it, you know if it were any other guy than Taeyong, he'd have punched a hole through their face but Hendery is only holding back because there was no way he'd go home with a few injuries and a broken heart. "Why?" He asks you, eyes welling up with tears, his voice rises and turns a few heads circling around the fire which resembles the ring of flame in Taeyong's pitch black irises. Taeyong watches his tattooed knuckles with much attention as if he'd put it to use soon. He rests his arm around Hendery's shoulder like they were the best of friends.

You shoot Taeyong a quick panicky look but the boy only pulls a sleek cigarette out and winks at you. As if he hadn't just given your boyfriend a jump scare not long ago. You sigh, he wasn't going to help you, you were alone in this.

"I..I.." you start, looking for words which might suffice for the pain you'd caused him. Your tongue rolls in your mouth, as if it had no intention of relaying any form of explanation for what you did. "Why?" He reiterates, squeezing your interlaced fingers so tight you're sure they might snap. "Hendery..you're hurting me." You whimper, you can feel the girl who'd been sitting in between Taeyong's legs stare at you with an inscrutable fear in her eyes.

There are a few of your classmates who watch the show with more attention than that is needed. "Well, you hurt me too." He says, his tone relentless as he raises his fingers entangled with yours. "Do you know what she did?" He says, scanning the dumbstruck audience you're amongst.

You look at Taeyong again, help me, you try to relay as you watch his face brighten in the flicker of a gaslight whilst he sets his cigarette alight with his spare hand. He doesn't look at you. Not once.

You let tears spring, and roll down your cheeks, your hand feels like it's being broken. You've spent the whole of your school life being invisible, unhurt, and away from the public eye. So when he's hellbound on dragging your reputation through the dirt, you feel like all the years independent of embarrassment has finally been accumulated and thrown at you all at once.

He drags each syllable of your name, holding your palms up in the cold air, he starts, his face twisted in an ugly snarl,

"She cheat-" Taeyong hooks his finger in Hendery's mouth and drags him backwards so his ear is pressed close enough to whisper. "I wouldn't do that, coward boy. I wouldn't do that if I were you." He takes his cigarette from his lips and drills its half lit head in the fabric of Hendery's pale blue jeans.

Your ex boyfriend whimpers, letting your fingers go, "but then again, I'm not chicken enough to be you." You watch in horror as Taeyong unhooks his finger, letting the poor boy's mouth go as he watches him fall from the theatrical show he was going to host. There's a black patch on Hendery's pants, there must be a bruise underneath.

He, unable to hide away from the embarrassment from the crowd he'd gathered, gets to his feet and attempts to leave. He feel like an actor who'd forgotten the lines to his own play. You drag yourself up and follow behind him, calling his name. He had hurt your hand a whole lot, he'd almost wrecked your image but it still didn't justify what you did to him. At least to you.

"Hendery, wait." You say, sprinting behind him. He doesn't relent in his lengthy steps, and you can hear the heavy weight of spikey boots follow behind you, you don't have to think twice as to determine who it is.

When Hendery halts in his steps, with his back turned against you and his palms at his waist, you bend down to touch your knees, catching your breath.

"Why did you do that to me? Was I not good enough?" He screams now, as you reach out to touch him but he leans away from your grasp.

You breathe in broken bits, heavily affected by the sprint. "You were, you were." You lie, attempting to assuage him. You're guilty, it felt terrible to look at him like that. Hurt plastered across his face. You did this to him. “I-I’m sorry.” You choke out, watching him grimace at the word. “Fuck your sorry.” He spits, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“Let’s go back, ______.” Taeyong’s palm presses against your shoulder blade as he attempts to take you away. “Oh and look who’s here to bring you back. Your knight in shining armor.” Hendery spits back you, mocking you as he emotes his anger in a less than decent manner while shoving his hands in the air.

“You know what, I should’ve known that you were such a fucking slut.” You let your voice crack at that, “Always knew you had a sickly obsession with this guy, saw how you ogled him, freak.” You feel like someone had stripped you naked and pushed you in a crowd. What will Taeyong think of you now, will he really see you the same way as he did before?

“I’m not..I’m not a freak.” You whimper but his cruel words don’t stop at that. “No wonder no one fucked you for so long.” You hold your palm against your mouth, a muffled pained cry barely making past your shivering lips. Hendery looks unapologetic, like he wants to tear you apart with his words.

He eyes Taeyong, seething at the pair of you. A dry chuckle escapes Taeyong’s lips.

You should’ve seen it coming, from the numerous years that you’ve known Taeyong going around school with bruises, with a reputation of beating people into a pulp, a pulp that barely made it alive to see him again.

Taeyong lunges at the boy, his fist landing at his squared jaw with so much force that Hendery growls out like a wild animal. Your vision clouds as you fail to wipe at the burning tears that escape at a sight you can hardly make out.

You watch Taeyong’s broad back shift as he continues to punch Hendery’s face like it was something he had waited for all his life. It’s sick how you feel pleased with the way he’s beating the other boy up, however you berate yourself before this emotion overtakes you. You look back at the circle of your classmates and are relieved to see that most of them cannot hear you over the loud boom of music. No one knew what you did and frankly, no one cared.

You had bigger issues at hand, rather, given the pace of his hits, you’re sure Hendery won’t make it, not when he’s wailing like an injured dog. You attempt to push Taeyong away weakly, “Stop it..stop hurting him, you’ll kill him, Taeyong, stop.”

In the split second, you’re met with the acrid sight of Hendery’s bloody face as Taeyong rolls off of his body at the weight of your words, you knew that it was wrong, you were terrified of Taeyong. Was this the person you’d made love to? Was this the person you fell in love with?

You look at him in shock as you cradle Hendery’s bloody head, he’s holding onto you like it’s the only way he can breathe. When Taeyong leans in to touch you, you flinch way. Sobbing into the injured body as you hold it close to your chest. He sees the look in your eyes and recoils.

“I never want to see you again.” You say these words without meaning to, with a moral obligation grabbing at your throat, you watch the love of your life’s face morph from hurt to anger to stoicism as he walks away from you with the same bruised knuckles that fascinated you for so long.

He accepts your wish like any other.

Today

You look at the picture on your Instagram feed again and again again. Taeyong’s palms are pressed against some girl’s waist. His black hair falls over his right eye, an eye which is guarded by a freshly cut brow slit.

You wonder if he’s forgotten you. If he really knew that even if you had dragged Hendery to the hospital, that your heart was still with Lee Taeyong as it was that day at the cabin. You wonder if he called someone else his angel. If he could be call you his baby again.

Because you don’t want him to be someone else’s.

You wonder and wonder and you drag your drunk body up Taeyong’s apartment, you wonder and you knock.

As if he’s been waiting right there for you, he pushes the door open, not inviting you in. He watches you with his fingers splayed on his door. He’s wearing a glittery black tank top. One which would’ve made any other man look like a badly designed disco ball but not him-oh no, he looked like he belonged in this outfit, like it was his skin, like he was born in it.

“What do you want?” You wince at the icy tone of his voice, attempting to lean your head against the door but the man pushes it away from your access.

You feel a lump roll in your throat from the way he speaks to you, the mischievous glint in his eyes long gone, he does not look at you with the want he did before. This epiphany births a hurt in your chest.

He looks at your outfits, teeth clambering down on his now pierced bottom lip. He looks like he’s suppressing something you can’t make out in the low lighting. You’re dressed in a black skirt and a cropped black shirt, your attires are matched accidentally, your cheeks burn in embarrassment, maybe he really did think you were the freak Hendery accused you of being.

“I..I ..did.. not think it through when I said I didn’t want to see you again.” You close your eyes at the confession, watching as he looks at you like a predator would at his prey, you almost smile at this change.

“So?” Taeyong’s face falls into an impassive mask, he looks furious, those fiery ringlets in his eyes glimmer for a second. “I want to see you. I want to see you everyday.”

He nods, like your admission had no effect on him. “Thanks. Anything else you want?” You frown, jutting your lip out dramatically when he attempts to close the door. “I want you.” You whisper and the spark in his eyes appear. The omnipresent glint in his feautures is reborn, “I want to be your ang-” he pushes you against the open door and, drags you to him with the loops in your skirt’s waist.

When he kisses you, it sets your body alight like it did the first time he’d touched you, you moan into his mouth, attempting to push your fingers into his hair, which he presses over your head. His tongue is hot on yours and his body radiates heat like a tropical country would. He smells of gasoline, he tastes of coffee, he’s just as you remembered and just as you loved.

When he pulls away, you look at your feet, and he cages you between his body, his forehead pressed to the crown of your head. “I missed you.” He says, dragging the cool material of his rings along your exposed thighs as he hauls you up and wraps your legs around his lithe hips.

You groan in his touch.

Your stomach coiling, your intestines twisting in the warmth that spread out through out your tummy.

He drags you to his room, adorned by posters of rock bands you hardly recognize as he flings you to his gray bed in between wet kisses. He crawls over your body, kissing the base of your throat. You bask in the warmth of the severity of his heated touches, his mouth, his charcoal eyes and that scent of him that you missed so much.

You fall and fall into a pit so deep that you knew there was no going out. Taeyong had managed to ruin you, spoil you and every time he touched you, you felt like that Phoenix engraved into his honey skin, you felt like you might expode into flames.

Your hips roll into each other and the feeling of completion washes over you one more time.

“Ride me.” He says, his name you whisper in his ear. “I love .. I love the sound of my name on your tongue, angel, my angel.” He says. Your arms wrap around his neck and his mouth falls open at your lips, he whimpers, resting his hand back on the mattress as he leans back. His idle fingers squeeze your sides. "Fuck.. sweetheart. I missed you so much." He says, the bed groaning under your bodies. Your insides twist as you near your orgasm in a flash. Taeyong moans, his mouth on yours, hi fingers all over your body, as he kisses you with so much ardour that you feel like your eyes may roll back into your skull.

"Baby. You're gonna fucking drive me crazy." He says, scrunching his eyebrows upwards as he pushes his cum into your core. "Take me, darling, all of me." His voice is drops a few octaves, deep, and throaty, you kiss him again.

Taeyong always grants your wishes.

........

The night goes away in a blur, in the torment of the summer heat as your sleepy body sticks to Taeyong, the smell of sweat and the sound of heavy breathing is the only invader in his room. You watch him kiss your knuckles, you watch him look at you with love in his eyes and you watch his eyelids droop, with his tattoed arm wrapped around your waist and the sound of your heart beat resonating in his ears.

That night you fall asleep next to Taeyong, only to be woken by the obnoxious buzz of your phone, there’s a text which robs the color off of your face, ‘I know what you did.’ It says, the number anonymous. A video attached to the white box.

You press play with clammy fingers.

It’s the cabin, it’s the two of you. It’s a video. It’s your body. It's your voice. Your moans. "Taeyong."

Someone was out to ruin your life.

You sit up in horror, crying into your palm. The lift of your body had woken Taeyong. He narrows his eyes at the blue glow of your device. His gaze flits between your phone and your petrified face before he seizes the device from you.

You watch as he reddens in fury, deciding the fate of the now broken phone as he throws it against the black plaster of his walls. “I’m going to kill him.” He sneers, his teeth grinded together and nostrils flairing and

you know that, truly, this time, he might.