#i couldn’t possibly include every major on here

[wavebf]

welcome to the revamped college major showdown!

[rwrbmovie]

#RWRBMovie: Designing the sex scenes

“We need to make sure that it is unambiguous to anyone watching this scene what precisely is happening,” he says. “We’re going to be accurate to the body positioning, to the breath, to the moment of insertion.” Working with intimacy coordinator Robbie Taylor Hunt, López thought through every possible detail about how two men have sex — and what about that process needed to make it into the scene: “We talked about, ‘Does the prince douche before they go in? Do we need to tell the audience that? Does the audience just assume that that’s going on?’” A great deal of time was spent on whether Prince Henry would be on PrEP, a medication taken to prevent HIV infection during sex. “Robbie and I decided together that the prince is probably not on PrEP, because it would be too dangerous for him to ask for prescription,” López says. “So the prince absolutely uses condoms. And because we couldn’t really effectively answer the PrEP question narratively, we wanted to also just tell the story that the prince engages in safe sex practices and takes his sexual health seriously.” Eagle-eyed viewers have indeed caught sight of condom wrappers near Henry and Alex’s bed during a couple of points in the film — alongside a bottle of lube.  “Once we had passed a certain part in the story, I was like, OK, let’s empty out some of the lube,’” López says. “Robbie and I were looking at it, like, ‘How much would they use? Like, well, let’s take it down about this much. OK, that makes sense to me.’” It was also vitally important to López to block out every beat of the sex scene in Paris. “Days before we shot that scene, Robbie and I actually got into the bed together,” the director says through laughter. “There are videos that could, like, ruin both our careers. Because we were like, ‘Alright, we’re having sex. What are we going to do? Okay, this pillow goes here. The condom’s going to land here. I’m going to do this.’ We probably overdid it in terms of the preparation for the scene. But we also wanted to make sure that we got on to set and we had an answer for every conceivable question.” The opportunity to show two men having sex in what amounts to a major studio romantic comedy was not lost on López. “I’d be a liar if I told you there wasn’t strategy to the scene, that I didn’t want to cause a conversation about why they’ve never seen this scene in a studio film,” he says. But he was also keenly aware of what he was asking of his actors. “Look, I don’t know if I could do it,” he says. “I’m fully aware that I’m asking two actors to do something that I’m probably not willing to do. I better make sure that I’m not wasting their time, that I’m not making them feel exploited, and that they are included in every single decision, every step of the way. It’s the only responsible way to do it. We knew that if Taylor and Nick didn’t feel safe, we would never have gotten that scene out of them.”

[mast3r-rainb0w]

Super Mario Bros. Movie TRIBUTE! by Mast3r-Rainb0w

Here's my tribute fanart for The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023)! Took me a about three WHOLE days to draw all of this. Featuring all characters with major voice actors and a few other minor characters with more-or-less significance to the overall story. I couldn't include EVERY possible character that was featured in the movie, so it is what it is. 

Simply put, I enjoyed the movie. Hope ya’ll enjoy the fanart I made here, too!

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Like a siren's call

pairing: beomgyu x vampire reader

summary: your voice is sultry, smooth in the kind of way only a vampire’s is. like a siren calling to the sailor. but you’re not completely sure who the siren is at this point,

OR beomgyu goes to a vampire bar in hopes of fulfilling his depraved fantasies

warnings: dom reader, sub beomgyu, biting, blood drinking (it is vampire so what do you expect?), handjob, exhibitionism, reader calls gyu 'little lamb', fingering (m receiving), crying, kissing with blood in mouth (?), gyu in a skirt, possibly more i forgot

word count: 7k

a/n: finally i had time to finish this, from the teaser here, there are a few tiny little changes from the beginning but nothing major. anyway, please ignore my horrible editing skills and feedback is always welcomed, i hope you all enjoy!

He sits alone at the bar. You can only speculate why, with his pretty face and his pretty body it was a wonder he wasn't responding to the hungry eyes eating him up; including your own, unfortunately.

He seems bored, disinterested as he swirls the liquid around in his glass mindlessly.

Too bad, really. You could really bring some life (heh) to his night if he let you. You'd gladly take on the challenge. He was exactly the reason you’d come here tonight.

For him. For his type.

Nothing piqued your interest like the way he held himself. How he looked innocent and pure in an alluring kind of way despite his appearance, which spoke quite the opposite. His features feminine and gentle in a way that drove you wild.

He caught the eye immediately with glittery makeup that shimmered in the strobing lights of the club; drawing in the attention of passersbys like a siren, eyes stuck on him for the brief moment before they continued on with their night.

With the way plenty had looked at him you were surprised that no one had approached him yet. You were even more surprised that you hadn’t gotten up already. 

Something inside of you told you to wait though, told you to play a little with him, make him work for it. Something you couldn’t quite place screamed that he often got what he wanted-and you had never one to play with your meal but just maybe once it would be a bit of fun.

With a little bit a vivid imagination and a special something you'd told the bartender to slip into your drink you could practically see it. How much more gorgeous he would look when he begged, with tears in his eyes too, cheeks flushed.

Tongue swiping over your teeth, you wonder if he's here for what you assume he is. To fulfill the reason that you came here tonight...or if your fangs would send him running in the opposite direction.

Who were you kidding though?

He's obviously here for a reason and with the way he's only leisurely sipping the drink in his hand you doubt it's only for that. You hope it's not only for that.

Crazy hot and seductive as shit, hopefully by choice, all you've been wanting all night was for him to look at you. He hasn't though and you're beginning to wonder if you should cut your losses and call it a night.

It's not common for you to be this...infatuated with a human but there's something different about him, something special that you can't shake.

And you only realize that your stare is so obvious, so shameless when he can feel it from across the bar, looking up so his eyes catch on your own.

He stiffens in his seat, looking startled but certainly not uncomfortable by any means. Flickering from your eyes to your mouth and then down to the rest of you, he takes it all in with another sip.

And ever so slowly you allow yourself to do the same, for probably the millionth time tonight already. Gaze dragging over the length his body, appreciating every little thing as they trail lower and lower.

He’s gorgeous, for a human and for a vampire as well; he clearly relishes in knowing the fact, with little details that only accentuate it.

A choker that sits snug against the smooth skin of his throat. One of the cute pink ones with the little metal heart placed in the front. Pale, unmarked skin moving beneath it, throat bobbing as he takes chugs down the rest of his drink and calls for another. Skin that's practically begging to be claimed.

By you? Well, only if the pretty thing would let you.

Really, it's more of a question of what you wouldn't do to him if he would let you.

The barely noticeable detail on the short skirt he’s wearing stands out to you. It's definitely not the length of it that calls your attention to it. The thing nearly short enough to be called scandalous but just breaks as passing with society’s expectations. 

And lastly, but very certainly not in the least when it comes to this human, the knee-high boots make up for the length of his skirt as well as the thigh highs he’s clearly wearing underneath, little frills peeking out from where they end. Almost obsessively, your eyes rake down the delicious sliver of thigh that they reveal. 

He focuses back at you now, looking like he expects for you to look ashamed at being caught, after all, you were boring holes into him.

But to his surprise, you don’t. You hold steady and continue your unabashed stare.

He flushes, as pretty as the rest of him, face downturned to the bar, hair falling just so.

He tugs a lip between his lips, perhaps unconsciously or maybe not. The mischievous twinkle in his eye argues for the latter.

You’d never excelled at understanding human emotions, much less read them off a pretty human boy’s face.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

—

Your eyes. The deep shade of crimson they take on. The exact colour of blood. The exact colour of the essence that runs just beneath his skin.

They should really scare him more than anything.

They should make his skin crawl and make him feel the urge to run for the hills. Away from you. Away from everything that you could do to him if you wanted to. 

The things that he wants you to do to him. But that's really not the point.

That's the first thing Beomgyu notices.

The way they bore into him, the crimson darkening by several shades to an entirely new kind of red. His skin crawls, invisible bugs scurrying over his body. Heat swells, filling him up to the brim-did they turn the heat up in here? They had to have turned the heat up.

Goosebumps break across the exposed skin of his thigh, a shiver runs up his spine, zinging him but not for the reasons they should.

You look away all too soon, shifting your focus to the bartender in front of you, leaving Beomgyu feeling weirdly cold once again.

He was kind of hoping you’d approach him. Sure, he could approach you, he would’ve but he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was more prey than hunter. After all, why else would he be here?

You’re gorgeous, all skin and grace, seductive while you playfully roll your eyes at the man in front of you. Your lips curl up into a smile and there they are. 

Your fangs. Perfect ivory and considerably long, he could only imagine how deep they would bury inside his skin. How good they would feel-how good he’d heard they’d feel at least. 

Beomgyu wondered how it would feel, how much it would hurt before everything else would take over, he wasn’t particularly against pain so that wasn’t much issue. He wondered how your lips would taste, how he’d taste to you.

Human blood tasted and smelt different to every vampire, some more desirable, some less. He hoped you found him desirable, and with the way you’d looked at him, dark and intense and hungry.

The amber liquid in his glass burns down his throat but makes his body feel all the less tense, all the more free. This was his second and last drink of the night. He’d heard it was better to stay mostly sober for these kinds of things. There was no saying what someone’s intentions could be and he didn’t want to turn up dead in the alley next door tomorrow. 

Besides, even if this was his second day coming here and still, he hadn't been approached, his hopes of something happening tonight weren’t completely squashed yet.

Not with the way he could feel your eyes on him again, not subtle in the least, shameless in a way that drove him a touch insane.

His thighs rub together, trying to quell the heat lighting between them. Welcoming and also trying to reject the thought of how you would look at him, just like that, in a different kind of setting.

Beomgyu has no idea how, but you seem to notice the imperceptible movement, eyes flickering down to watch as your tongue peeks out to wet your lips.

He sits up straighter, flustered by the look, looking away and hoping you don't somehow notice the blush flooding his face. Using the opportunity to survey the busy venue. 

It was definitely one of the more popular blood bars in the city, one of the better funded ones and the patrons only proved it. Humans and vampires alike dressed lavishly, screaming of an old kind of wealth. Showy-offy in a way that begged the eye not to look away. 

The people here were certainly well off and that was obvious. Practically dripping in jewels and riches, many scantily clad and wearing nearly nothing at all, yet still looking expensive. 

He was glad that he’d gone with his gut to overdo instead of underdo. His roommate had frowned when he saw Beomgyu leaving the apartment, asking him if that was really what he was wearing.

Beomgyu had never taken much mind to being slut-shamed, if anything that meant that the skirt was just the right length but these words almost made him turn back to his room and change into something more 'suitable'.

He's glad he didn't. He fits in more like this and the outfit, as well as the makeup certainly garnered its fair-share of wanted attention.

“Can I get you anything?”

The bartender was a tall man, lithe and nearly able to pass as a human before his winning customer service smile revealed the fangs hidden just beneath his lips.

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

The man-vampire followed Beomgyu's line of sight, settling on you. "Is there anything else I can get you? Perhaps a name or a number?"

Beomgyu looked back at him, slightly horrified at the thought. "No!" he cleared his throat in an attempt to cover the outburst. "Uh-no, no, that's okay. I'm good, really."

He smiled politely and the bartender nodded, "Okay then just call me over then if you need anything else."

His eyes were back on you the second he was gone. But you haven't looked back yet, instead talking with the other bartender across.

Beomgyu can’t help but find himself slightly disappointed.

His friend Yeonjun had recommended he come to this place. Technically Yeonjun’s partner had. 

He had been pleasantly surprised to find that Yeonjun was dating someone when he saw him after all these years. He was even more shocked to find out that he was dating a vampire. He was never that close to Yeonjun but his mom was friends with Beomgyu’s and he certainly remembered his immense fear of vampires from then.

People could change though of course and Beomgyu was never one to judge especially on the topic, he wondered but didn't care enough to ask.

The only real reason that they had rekindled was because Beomgyu had just moved to the area and Yeonjun needed someone else to pay the rent. On those terms an easy arrangement was made.

He quickly moved in with the two of them. It wasn’t the best situation that he could find himself in but certainly wasn’t a bad one. 

Their apartment was small to have three people living in it and the walls were much too thin for the activities that his two roommates engaged in (Yeonjun really was too loud for his own good) but otherwise they were okay roommates and showed him around the city like his own personal tourguides. 

Either way, Beomgyu started his search to get out of there pretty quickly. He did like Yeonjun, despite the fact that he's a little bit too uptight and a little bit too overbearing, he found his partner to be quite interesting.

They were the one to tell him about this place, an exclusively night bar where they worked. It was supposed to be quiet and relatively safe compared to some of the other places like this in the city, partially because of the rich patrons. 

It was one of the clubs for vampires who wanted to feed and humans that wanted to be fed from and Beomgyu couldn’t help the way his interest was piqued. 

He’d always had a weird obsession with their kind. It was an embarrassing subject for him. He’d grown up in a small town where the topic was taboo at least, and being shunned from the community at worst. The idea of engaging with vampires was worse than watching porn or going to the strip club, more like the type of thing that parents would kick their children for thinking about. 

It was one of the reasons he was so surprised that Yeonjun had decided to date one.

In the bigger cities though, like this one, vampires were more common and people were less afraid. There was less stigma to stereotypes and misconceptions than the small towns had.

But it was odd that so quickly his perception had changed. He’d thought he’d gotten over it a long time ago, thought that it had been quelled ever since that documentary in school about "The Truth About Vampires-Parasites! Soulless bloodsuckers!". It scared the shit out of him and from then on he vowed that he wouldn't be caught dead searching up vampire porn on his laptop ever again.

Until he got here. Beomgyu couldn’t help the way his body heated up when Yeonjun told him about how it felt to be drunk from. How it felt down from the little prick of pain when their fangs entered the skin to how intoxicating, how high-inducing and euphoric it felt.

It led to the fantasy reappearing in his dreams the next night and a very tense silence between the him and Yeonjun the next day as they nursed terrible hangovers. Where Yeonjun had his partner to take care of him afterwards though, as Beomgyu heard through the too thin walls later that night, all Beomgyu had were his thoughts

Maybe he was a perv. A freak, or a degenerate. For taking up the offer from Yeonjun’s partner to be driven here. For coming here to fulfill his depraved fantasies he'd sworn off a long time ago. But seeing as there was this many other humans lounging around the room. Dancing and drinking and being fed from out in the open or being dragged to a back room, he could feel just a little bit normal.

If tonight didn’t work out either, he wouldn’t mind coming here another night to try again. Though he could only hope that he’d see you tomorrow.

He didn’t know what it was, but something about you he couldn’t quite shake, he couldn’t quite-he looked up again to see you gone. The space where you sat empty.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you look a little lonely.”

His attention snaps up in an instant.

His head reels as he registers the red eyes looking down at him, the way that you seemed to be bemused at his speechlessness.

“Um, I-“ 

You seem to have nothing but amusement toward his reaction. Unfazed as you gesture towards the stool next to him. “Is this seat taken?”

“Yes.” you look almost shocked as he says the word, disappointed in a way that makes him think that the infatuation was mutual. “By you.” Beomgyu isn’t quite sure where he gets the confidence to say that but the words come either way.

And they’re almost enough to make you laugh, but not quite. You take a seat, angling your body towards his.

The silence is brief, a few seconds of you surveying him once again but this time a bit closer, a bit more intimate as you reach for the frills on the hem of his thigh-highs, playing with it as he tries his best not to flinch.

Instead of emanating any kind of body heat it’s cold, like a chill coming out of your skin that feels good against in the humid stuffy air of this place.

“So, what’re you here for?”

The question has an easy answer, and that is to get fucked up, not necessarily sex, but he’s heard that a vampire drinking from someone feels like something akin to an orgasm only better than that. He can’t say that though, it’s crude and though he has no trouble being labelled a slut, he doesn’t want you to think that he’d open his legs for anything with fangs.

So instead, “Eh, a new crowd I guess.”

Not entirely a lie, it was a change of scenery, but then again everything about the city was.

Here vampires were allowed to walk free instead of being run out of the town and humans weren’t ostracized for befriending or even getting romantically involved with one.

His parents would disown him if they even knew he was here tonight.

“Meet some new people, see some of the things I wouldn’t see at home.”

The way you look at him is skeptical. You obviously don’t believe the shit coming out of his mouth. Your hand slips higher. “Really now? A new crowd? That’s it?” 

No. That’s not just it and Beomgyu’s a tad embarrassed that you can see through him so easily but the feeling is easily overpowered by the want to throw himself at you.

He sucks in a breath, heart thumping so hard he’s sure you can hear. You let out a puff of air. Clearly you’re ready for this game to end, tired of him playing hard to get and done feeding into it. 

“You don’t want something maybe a bit…more?” Your voice lowers a few octaves, sultry and smooth.

Like a siren calling to the sailor. Hypnotizing and mesmerizing.

Neither of you are too sure who the siren is at this point though.

It could be the vampire and to Beomgyu, it is. Captivating eyes and sharp fangs, lulling voice that sings to him like no other. All vampires that have that kind of weird alluring quality to them but yours is different, yours is something else entirely.

The human maybe as well. The one that you haven’t been able pull your eyes away from all night. Pretty makeup and pretty clothes. His scent like chocolate and a dash of vanilla. A human unlike any other you’ve had the pleasure of meeting.

Throat dry, eyes fixated in places they shouldn’t be, he nods and you watch his throat bob, that vein in his neck bulging.

Before he realizes what’s happening, your lips are next to his ear, “Look, little lamb,” His body stiffens at the name you've decided to give him. “I am here for something, and with the way that you’ve been eye-fucking me all night, I’m sure that you are too.” you cut off, smiling as you mouth at his skin, “So let’s cut to the chase. Are you on the same page that I am?”

Nails dig into his flesh and he gasps, jumping in his seat, looking shocked and a little turned on before shifting as close as he possibly can considering the fact that you’re on two separate barstools. “Yes, I—I think so,” 

“So…you wouldn’t mind if I just…” his gasp rings out, heart skipping a beat as you pull him into your lap, perching him so he’s straddling your thighs. His face so, so close to yours. He can feel your breath on fanning across his cheeks and lips. He could count each of your individual eyelashes if he wanted. Your eyes flicker down. “If I just kissed you? Until you’re breathless and panting against me, all weak and needy?” He can feel your nose brushing against his. “Leave you trembling and shaking, begging me for more, pleading for me not to stop…would you mind?”

That’s it. He’s short-circuited, eyes unfocused, a haze already taking over. “Please.” is all he can come up with but you don’t seem deterred at all by the fact.

“Good.”

He can hardly believe this is happening. Hardly believe that you’re real. A long-lived fantasy from ever since he was a teenager and stumbled upon porn brought to real life, right in front of him. Groping him, in the middle of a bar, calling him a little lamb, pulling him into your lap. In front of the entire bar.

He’s so hard, it hurts. He hopes you don’t notice. Or maybe he hopes you do.

He wants you to kiss him hard, bite and shred up his lips before you move down, using him in any way that you want, he won’t complain, he’ll be so, so good.

You lean closer and his eyelids slip shut, awaiting for your lips on his…they never meet. They’re on his neck instead, licking up and nipping at the shell of his ear, dragging down his jaw. “Tell me what you want, tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

“I-i…” He can’t think properly, you’re a fucking wet dream to him. You’re offering him all he’s ever wanted and he can’t think of anything but your fangs against his fucking neck. “S-shit,” He twitches, throbs. “Mark me, bite me.” He’s desperate, clutching onto you like you’ll disappear any second and he’ll be robbed of the chance he’s been so desperate for all his life. Of you and your scent and your mouth. “I-please-make me bleed, k-kiss me with my blood in your mouth, make me taste myself,”

“Mhm, okay, that can be arranged”, you whisper, nails digging in to grab more of his thigh. He shivers and watches pervertedly as your tongue peeks out from between your lips to wet them. “Y’know, I don’t want you to feel pressured, you can say no and I’ll let you leave,” You mutter. “I promise you’ll make it back home tonight-alive, that is.”

You laugh at your own joke, awaiting for his answer-verbally-and not just him whining like a like clingy whore. Or grinding down against you like he’s your own personal lap dance, chasing for that spark of pleasure with a sharp keen. 

He squirms pathetically in your lap, Clutching onto you, off in his own world. “A-ah, y-yes,” his cheeks are so flushed, his legs so tense in your hands. “G-god, anything! I promise, I’ll be good!”

What an offer.

You could hardly take a pass on it, hardly ignore this pretty thing. 

Others around the room pervertedly watch, getting ready for a show in the middle of the bar, hardly a rare occurrence but it’s not your style. You don’t like to share your things. And for tonight this human boy is yours. 

Only yours.

Without a word, you’re pushing him off your lap, ignoring his anguished cry and bratty groan as you grip his wrist. He squeaks. It’s firm but not painful, tugging him towards an almost hidden exit door. 

“Wha-“

“Shh, just follow my lead.”

So he does, following behind with few words of complaint. Not that he can think of much anyway, not around the cloud of lust that feels like cotton in his head.

Before his mind catches up to what’s going on you’re out in the alleyway beside the bar. A light flickers at the end of the street, far off from where you are, just barely illuminating your eyes that stare down at him hungrily.

Pressing his hips down you shove his shivering body against the dirty wall. He can feel grit and moss and something that feels wet soaking into the fabric of his skirt.

He would normally complain, complain but unlike he normal, he doesn’t mind. Because under your watch he can’t help the way his heartbeat quickens, heart working on overtime as the adrenaline begins to take over.

His jaw fits perfectly in your hand and his eyes flutter before slipping shut, leaning into your cool touch as your thumb delicately explores over the ridges of his face, down his cheekbone and over his lips. 

He’s so warm. You can’t help but marvel at him, tracing the creases of his eyes, wiping some of the glitter down the side of his face. He shudders out a breath and you smile, like a cat that’s caught a bird. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna ruin all of this,” his skin is almost scalding. Different. A warmer touch than you’ve felt in a long time. “Make you cry, make all of your pretty makeup run.”

“Please,” he breathes, he begs, raw desire pouring into the singular word. “Please do.”

He’s been so patient. So good for you. A good little toy to your teasing. You suppose he should get a little reward for his troubles.

You watch in fascination as he sighs shakily, hot breath starting to come out in pants. His heart pounds wildly in your ears and you quickly scan over him for the cause.

You quickly find it.

You.

Standing over him as he tightly clings to you. Like he never wants you to leave. His eyes open slightly, wide and needy, your pokerface slipping into a smirk you can’t hold back. 

His body shivers in anticipation and your eyes once again find that tiny sliver of thigh exposed, pale skin, unblemished calling out to you like an invitation.

To touch, to squeeze, to explore.

To bite, hopefully.

He jumps when you to touch him, from the cold, he tells himself. 

He swears he hears you growl when you make contact but he can’t hear very well over the sound of the city. Nails graze the skin before quickly skipping over where you’d already been. Toying with the hem of his skirt and then sliding under, up higher. 

His panting gets heavier. His head falls into the crook of your neck with a pathetic whine, hot puffs of air caressing your skin.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, underwear a forgone piece of clothing for tonight.

“Slut.” You hiss. He throbs, pre cum leaking all over your hand as he grits his teeth, trying not to fuck himself into your hand like he so badly wants. “You can’t wait to be fucked, can you?” you whisper, “just needed someone to do it for you.” Your hand tightens around him and he chokes out a moan followed by a sob. “Right little lamb?”

Your tone is so menacing, it’s so hot. The cool outside air is nothing compared to his feverish skin.

It seems, the only thing that could cool him down is you.

“Wanna fuck up into my hand?” He’s so wet it makes it so easy for your hand to move along the length of him. “Wanna cum?” 

Beomgyu loves this kind of teasing, though he’d never admit it. He loves the fact that you take some kind of wicked pleasure in making him all red, that he knows you want to make him nothing more than a begging writhing mess tonight.

Teasing is his forte. Edging is his favourite pastime. He can take this.

But really, as much as he wants to savour this, you’re right. He really, really, really wants to cum. Already, so quickly it’s almost embarrassing. He just wishes that you’d hurry it up already. 

That you’d give up the act and slip to your knees in front of him.

Instead you squeeze his cock, thumb toying over the tip. Beomgyu gasps, tongue needily moving against your neck, licking over the smooth, oddly cold juncture, nipping and whining before moving over to your jugular.

He shivers when he feels no pulse there.

“Tell me what you want little lamb.” He wants so many things. Too many things.

“I need it.” Every ounce of need is poured into the three words, a whine and a beg and a plea all mixed into one. His body shaking with desire.

“Do you now?” You tease.

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” His voice is muffled and it’s hard not resist the urge to dig your nails into his scalp, force him to look at you, so you can see his pretty face and glossy eyes while you make him fall apart. His noises are just as pretty though, straight into your ear, a chill running down your spine at the contrast of your body’s temperature versus the heat of his breath. So just this once you’ll let him. 

For now you’ll just rest your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly in a way that makes him purr and shudder, muffled moans reverberating against your skin.

“You that worked up already? That easily, huh?”

“So easy, just a toying with your cock for a little bit? Or is it the fact that we’re out here?” you coo. His breath hitches as you pull his skirt down just over his hips. He stiffens, worried for a second that you’re going to strip him down completely in this alleyway. 

Where someone could so easily see the two you. 

Where a worker could come to take the trash out. 

Where a drunken patron could wander out. 

Where more vampires could find you.

Why does that thought sound so good?

He cuts off into a hiss, biting down on his lips so hard he can taste blood trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape.

“Oh, is that it? Want someone to come out, watch me make a mess of you?” everything screams at him to nod, to scream out the truth but he doesn't. He only whimpers while biting down on his lip.

“Oh, you’re so close…Makes me wonder if I should slow down, give you a break?” He shakes his head insistently, frantically, devastated at the very thought. You sigh over-dramatically-as if he didn’t give you the very reaction that you wanted. “Okay then tell me how you feel little lamb. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

You’re tortuous. You’re making head spin and his blood boil with need. You’re smirking all the while and enjoying his desperate whimpers into your ear, getting all worked up. 

You’re mean. You’re so, so mean. And he loves it.

He can’t vocalize it though, can’t find his voice or get out the words stuck in his throat.

Guess you’ll have to force them out of him then.

Beomgyu lets himself be pulled off of you, allowing you to push him back against the wall harder so that every inch of his back is pressed against it. And despite the squeak of indignation of being pushed away from you he seems more than happy about this rough handling.

Even more so as you fall to your knees in front of him.

With the view of you standing below him, hungry eyes searing on his skin, focusing on every vantage point. 

His neck, his wrists, his thighs.

He feels as if he’s been burnt wherever you stare too long, skin on fire but it’s okay, okay because the pain somehow makes it so much better.

“You just gonna stare at me all night?”

Finally your attention flicks back up to his face, taking in his blown out pupils and lustful expression. “And what if I do?” 

“You love the attention, don’t you?” Fingers slide along the hem of his thigh highs. “Love it when I look at you,” he gasps when he feels you rip the flimsy fabric, too far gone to be pissed, to even cry out in indignation before it’s replaced with your lips. 

His body convulses as you kitten lick a long stripe from where the now ruined hem is all the way to where his thigh meets his hip. “You love it when you know that I’m thinking about you.”

Your breath is cold against his cock as you blow air at it, devoid of the usual warm brush of air he’s used to. “Do you wanna know what I think about you? Hear about all the ways I want to ruin you?”

His hands clench and unclench in intervals. He wants to touch you so bad, wants to feel your hair between his fingers, brush his thumb over the cool skin of your face and lips.

He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch though. He’s not willing to risk it if he knows there’s a chance you’ll stop. He wants this so bad, fuck, he really does. He wants it more than anything else in the world-and he has the chance right now! He has the vampire between his legs, teeth grazing his thighs.

He has the means and the want and the opportunity…but it’s up to you in the end.

“Please don’t stop,” he pleads, rolling his hips up, “I-I’ll die without it.” 

You bark out a laugh and that’s all he hears before he watches, eyes wide as your teeth sink into his skin and you’re groaning, gulping down like a starved animal. Beomgyu swears he sees white, or black, or…he can’t really tell but the breath is sucked from his lungs. His fingers claw desperately at the alley wall, trying to find some sort of sanity in the pleasure.

A whorish cry is ripped from his lungs, deaf on his own his ears as ecstasy and pain together and intertwined, one and the same take over his entire body.

He feels like he’s been set it on fire, like he’s been dipped into molten lava or some shit equivalent that his head can’t wrap around.

It’s intense-so fucking intense-Yeonjun downplayed it so much. But then again, absolutely nothing could get him ready for this.

His ears ring and his legs shake as if they’re about to give out. His posture is kept up only from the wall firm behind his back and your hands holding onto him so tightly he’s positive there will be bruises in their place tomorrow. 

It feels like he’s cumming but a hundred times more intense, no-a million times-more. He can’t breath, oh fuck, he can’t breath.

His lungs scream for air, but he doesn’t remember how to use them. He feels like he’s been winded, all the oxygen knocked out of him.

Everything aches and everything feels so good. His hands finally clench into your hair and he can feel your lips suctioning at his skin like you were trying to leave a hickey, only he knows there will be much more left behind than just a bruise.

He’s only vaguely aware that he must sound like some sort of dying animal with the way he howls in pleasure, strangled cries released into the night one after another.

He must look like one too with how his hands grasp at your hair, nearly clawing at your scalp, desperately searching for some way to stabilize his sanity that is slowly slipping away with how good this fucking feels.

Your nose nudges against his heated skin, lips suckling, groaning around the area as you continue to drink more and more until he feels so lightheaded he’s worried he’s going to pass out.

And then you let him go. 

Beomgyu groans in relief or in disappointment, he doesn’t know. He stares down at you: makeup smeared, drool dripping, hands clutching. He focuses on your stained red teeth, eyes dazed and sharp.

“Did you just cum?”

His hips buck, a meek whine escaping. He nods. But it’s not enough cumming once, not anywhere near enough, he’s still hard and throbbing for your touch. It’s almost as if he can feel the venom of your bite working through his system, corrupting and taking over everything, making his head spin as he arches his back slightly, presenting himself to you for further exploration. 

“Please don’t stop, god, I need you so bad~” he’s whiney and he’s adorable, his words slurred, his cheeks pink. “I w-wan’ you to explore every inch of me,” You look up at him, speechless, head filling with thoughts of bloodlust and his body as his hips chase nothing but air, moaning all the while. “Don't hold back, I want to feel everything." 

“Really, little lamb? Everything.” You taunt, before you stand, coming face to face with him and finally your lips slam against his, harsh and almost aggressive, fingers knotting into his hair, pushing him closer like you’re trying to consume him.

The taste of iron fills his mouth and he whimpers, clinging onto your shoulders, knees weak at the realization. Warm tears spill down his cheeks but you’re quick to wipe them away with your fingers, succeeding in smudging the last bits of his makeup to hell.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” you mutter, sucking his tongue into your mouth, drool and spit making a mess everywhere. “I just wanna eat you alive,” the words are sent directly between his legs as your hands slip under his skirt once more, rubbing at his taint before falling back a bit more.

Beomgyu’s eyes slip shut, pulling away from the kiss, knocking his head back against the alley wall with a wanton whine. “P-put them in-please, put them in.” He chokes out.

First you bring your fingers up and shove them into his mouth, collecting a disgusting amount of saliva that’s pooled in his mouth. “Suck.” He does, with a fervent desire, whimpering and swirling his tongue around them as if they were a dick.

Then they’re back where they were before.

He shakes, eyes finding yours with a mix of desire and submission in them. "Please...please put your fingers inside me," he begs, low and needy as he spreads his legs wider for you. "I-I want to feel you inside me...I need it so badly," he grinds down, desperate for your touch.

He lets out a soft gasp as your finger enters him; slow and steady. "Yes...just like that. Deeper. Fuck, feel so full~”

You scissor your fingers, and all composure is lost as he moans loudly at the feeling. No words come to mind, nothing can be said, only be felt.

You find his prostate with ease, pressing down on it, making your little lamb scream into the empty alley, his voice hoarse and gravelly as he pleads mindlessly, hips snapping forward so much you have to pin them against the wall.

“Yeah? That feel good? Having my fingers so deep inside you, huh?” He nods eagerly, his body shaking as you press down on his prostate. He's panting heavily now, barely able to form words.

Beomgyu loses himself in the sensation of your fingers deep inside him. He feels on the edge, his body shaking with pleasure as he grips onto you tightly, nails scratching at your skin though he knows that it’ll do nothing. "Yes...yes I'm so close," he gasps out between moans and twitches.

His walls clench around you as you add a third one in, almost as if they’re sucking you in deeper and deeper. 

He's barely able to stand up straight, his legs trying to spread wider, his skirt restricting room until in one swift move you rip a slit all the way up. His gasp is shocked. He'll be angry at you later. But not now as you take his knee in your free hand and throw it around your hip, giving you more access to press even harder against his prostate.

Beomgyu’s eyes roll back in bliss as you abuse the spot over and over. Waves of pleasure crashing over him, he looks up at you with a pleading expression in his eyes, his fingers gripping tightly onto your shoulders. "Please...please let me cum," he begs in a low, husky voice. "I need it so badly...let me cum for you," he pleads desperately, his body quivering with anticipation, so close to exploding he can’t think straight.

“Cum.”

He cries out as the flood bursts through, lost in the moment now, vaguely aware of anything except for the mind-blowing pleasure coursing through his veins. "Oh god...yes!"

His orgasm seems to last an eternity, every inch of his being exploding with pleasure. You're sure that everybody inside bar has heard you now, that your pretty boy was too loud, that he is still too loud as he pants and shudders against you, dumb with pleasure as his cum soaks into the fabric of his skirt and drips down his thighs and your arms.

You’d clean it up for him if he weren’t holding onto you so tightly, ensuring that you can’t move. Well, you could move if you really wanted to, but you don’t want to.

Instead, no words are exchanged as you slowly move your arms up, wrapping around his waist in return. He looks up at you, eyes bleary and unfocused, drooping shut drowsily.

You sigh, realizing that you’ll have to take care of him for the rest of the night whether that be trying to figure out where he lives or taking him back to your own. 

He sighs dreamily, breathing getting slower as he drifts off. Still covered in cum and drool, smudged makeup on his face and blood stained on his lips.

He's the siren and you're the sailor, there could be no other way. He lured you in and you had not a hint that you'd be trapped with him for however long he wanted you after that.

Pushing back the sweaty hair that sticks to his forehead, you smile, unable to bring yourself to be the slightest bit upset about it.

Either way, he’ll wake up tomorrow morning, completely fucked up and you're sure that you’ll be there to nurse him through it.

a/n: ignore the way the smut is more than half of the fic😇, hope you all enjoyed it! I'm kinda teasing around the idea of doing the rest of txt w either vampire reader OR w them being the vampire though if i did it probably wouldn't be out for awhile with everything else i'm doing.

anyway, taglist (going by people who specifically asked to be tagged so sorry if you wanted to be tagged and weren't): @d7dream, @fairyofshampgyu, @pink-tea, @goquokka, @maru-matt, @esther-kpopstan, @bitehee, @k-femdove, @snowballbear, @sanasour, @yongboksgf, @paeng0rl, @mysoob, @hobihearteu, @laylasbunbunny, @lemonhongjoong, @xcookiemonsteer, @hahagay,

my official taglist is here

[acciocriativity]

THE U IN US - ATEEZ SERIES - CHAPTER THREE

Summary: You weren't really the lonely girl™ of campus, but it does feel like it when you look around, and there's no one by your side when everyone else are talking and whispering between each other. You did have "friends", more like "group projet friends" that you managed to get for yourself, but they were the ones that were real close, you were there only when they had an extra empty seat. But it seems like the gods above took your nonchalant facade as a challenge. Oh, you don't think you need friends to survive through college? Bet.

Pairing: Non! idol OT8 ateez x reader (platonic)

Tags: college! au; hybrid! au; ateez! au; fluff (a whole lot of fluff and wholesomeness); angst; hurt/comfort; mentions of loneliness and insecurities; mentions of hybrid mistreatment and abuse

WC: 3,4k

N/A: It's finally here and a thousand words longer than the previous chapter! Please reblog my work and let me know if you want to he tagged in the next chapter <3

TWO MASTERLIST FOUR

You were always an early riser. The sun was breaking its first lights on the horizon as you got ready for the day, but there wasn’t a single bone of excitement in you.

Your room reflected the mask you were trying hard to wear early in the morning, spotless and perfectly organized, that was until anyone noticed how messy your bed still was.

You feel asleep early for any college major, but somehow slept a total of 4 hours only. None of them knocked on your door, and you didn’t hear a single peep or saw any lights on from your own slightly open door. They were capable of managing themselves well, you knew that, so you closed the door and were left to your own thoughts for the rest of the night.

Your brain wouldn’t stop running to all the things you needed to do while waiting for a more appropriate hour of the day to actually do them. It was a suffocating feeling, and you hated to feel so impotent. So you cleaned everything you came across at 12 A.M. trying to be as quiet as possible, too restless and tired of all the toss and turn you did already.

You walked out of your room, and it was almost like every single worry you had all night was just in your head. The cop, the plan, your father, they’re now living with you, the shopping you need to do, the paperwork you have to get, their legal documents you have to find wasn’t splashed on the beige walls and the cold porcelain of the floor, so maybe you could just ignore it before your coffee.

“Good morning”, Seonghwa said as you reached the 3/4 of the stairs, now sure that you could see him on the couch and he wouldn’t scare you. Still, he did notice how you grabbed harder on the handrail and had a hard time trying not to smile, but his ears twitching could give him away. “I’m sorry”.

“It’s ok”, you chuckled. “Have you been up for a while?”, you asked as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“No”, he looked over to the windows, the sunrise clear on the horizon. “I did not even notice how early it was until I came up here”.

It was partly true, there were no windows on the basement area, instead a huge glass door that lead to the pool on the other end of the corridor. He did not see the sun rising and did not take notice of the time, he just did not sleep at all.

“Want some coffee?”, you said as you went around the living room to the kitchen.

“Sure, thank you”, he said, but made no moves to follow you.

Seonghwa was enjoying the quiet to put his thoughts in order, something he couldn’t do lately. The last week took a toll on the whole pack to the point their scents changed a little due to stress. Nothing was planned and neither him nor Hongjoong wanted to put their trust and safety solely on your words.

Your presence on itself was something he couldn’t decide how he felt about it yet. It was annoying how submissive and fake most of them got in your presence, including Jongho, which was a shocking sight back on campus. It was in Seonghwa’s nature to be attentive and caring towards others, he was aware of it, but he only offers that to his pack and pack only. There were no humans left that are worthy of that, Jongho himself said to him once. Yeah, he saw you before. All of them ended up on the hybrid protection department at least twice until now. You were just a human child bored out of your mind. What’s so special about it?

“Here it is”, you left the mug on top of the coffee table, eye smiled at him and then left.

Seonghwa was paralyzed on his spot. He did not hear your steps nor your closeness to him. Now the only thing he could hear was his own-scared heart.

There was a dark cloud on top of Seonghwa’s head, so you give him his coffee quick and left him alone on the couch.

Now, you had at least a whole hour until you had to leave to take the subway. It was enough time to make a small breakfast for yourself and revise your notes for today, but not to make a decent meal for 9 freaking people.

You went to grab your coat near the entrance, even though in less than an hour it would be boiling hot outside.

“Can you tell the other boys I’m grabbing food for us?”, you raised your voice as you looked over Seonghwa, at least 10 feet away, still on the same spot as you left him starting at the wall.

He winced because of your loud tone, and you signed, now aware of your mistake.

“It won’t take long, sorry”, you just left, it felt like the best thing to do.

Perfect, you said to yourself.

Perfect, Seonghwa said to himself.

He knew some of the others could mess up this new arrangement out of guilt for searching around your father’s office, but he couldn’t let it happen.

Yunho was the first to walk downstairs, the both of them needed to have a little chat.

You could only hear the click and clack of the cutlery hitting the porcelain plates. For a table with 9 people, it was quieter than when you eat on your own.

The house was always just that, a house, a balance between a safe place for you to rest in and someone else’s property that you had no control over, but never you felt so uncomfortable in it.

The night before you noticed how proper Yunho and Jongho were, but now, looking at all of them, it seemed forced. It was, because it was. Of course, they were trained to be.

“You are really serious about food, aren’t you?”, you couldn’t take the silence anymore.

Most of them nodded, a small chuckle giving a little bit of life to the table. It was true, call hybrid instincts or whatever, but they meant business when it came to food, but they knew very well there was more than that to the atmosphere in the room, and it was best for you to stay unaware of it.

“It’s just that good”, Mingi said suddenly, as he took another bite of the fresh croissant. “Melting on my mouth”, he mumbled more to himself than anything, still a little shocked at how good it was.

Your neighbors glaring at you as you left with four filled bags out of the small bakery three blocks away was worth it.

“You should have it as a sandwich later”, you said, more than happy to have an actual conversation.

Mingi wanted to hear all about your best recommendations, while San, Yunho and Hongjoong had a staring contest.

Wooyoung, San and Yeosang, a trio you never imagined would work well together, but somehow it did.

On the way to university, you found out, actually, the three of them were dance majors, not just Wooyoung. To your surprise, Yeosang did most of the talking for them this time.

In all honesty, Yeosang just wanted to hide in a hole and disappear. Never in his life he thought he’d want Wooyoung to talk more or that he would wait for a miracle, but at that moment, he caught himself doing both.

Every single loud noise made him jump out of his skin, from the sound of the rails to the loud people talking on the phone. It was all too much all at once. Your attention on him and him only was new, his face was all red, and he couldn’t look into your eyes. His hands hugged his bag against his own chest, but the weight wasn’t enough. If it wasn’t for two hands on his thighs, a clear sign of protection and sureness, he wouldn’t be talking at all.

Bless your heart, you gave every bit of encouragement and reaction to every thing he said, but it was not helping.

“S-so, we were trai-”, Yeosang already small voice was interrupted by the announcement of the next station. The doors closed, and you held tighter onto the pole as it started to move again.

“Training for what?”, you asked as you did your best to maintain the space between you and San’s body.

“There is a performance at the end of the year”, Wooyoung said it, faster than Yeosang could think.

“That’s so cool, so there’s a date already?”

She thinks am I cool? It was unconscious how all of them perked up at the compliment. Wooyoung tail seemed like it had a mind of his own, swaying left to right. Yeosang turned even more red in the face, his fluffy gray ear covering the sides of his face as he recoiled between the two bodies on each side of him. San cleaned his throat as he looked the other way, he was not comfortable with how much he enjoyed it hearing such a small compliment from you.

Yeosang was a few beats late when he noticed you were still waiting for an answer.

“Oh, hum, no, I d-do not think so, right?”, he looked over to the other boys, who agreed.

“We’ll let you know so you can come see us”, Wooyoung said as he rubbed Yeosang’s back slowly.

“I’d love that, thank you, but are you sure it’s okay for me to come?”, you asked him, then glanced at San, who was already looking at you.

“We want you to come”, San said.

He said a ‘we’, when you were looking for an ‘I’.

It was a painful and awkward silent the rest of the way, until the three of you could breathe again.

“It’s not here”, Seonghwa said a second time since coming back to your father’s office.

He was already tired due to a sleepless night, now he had to spend all his energy to look for papers that weren’t even there.

“Then look again, it has to be here somewhere”, Hongjoong was loosing all his patience as he analyzed every single paper they found left on his desk.

Seonghwa took a deep breath. Hongjoong was being unreasonable, all of them already knew that, including Hongjoong himself.

“You know there’s no reason for why he would leave that behind, and it’s clear he hasn’t been here in a good while, so why are we doing this again?”, Seonghwa put the old box down on the table, all of it was useless anyway.

“This might be the only lead we get, do you just want to give up on him?”, the last two words barely a whisper as Hongjoong took a step closer to Seonghwa, the papers left scarred inside the drawer.

Both of them did not want Yunho, Mingi or Jongho to hear what was going on up there.

Standing so close to each other like this, eye to eye, they could almost touch the emotions swirling in the room. It was frustrating to Hongjoong. They had a goal and a chance, so why would they fail Yunho now? His anger, resentment and fear towards himself more than anything filled the room and suffocated both of them. Seonghwa looked nothing but empathetic and warm and welcoming to Hongjoong’s fears and worries, even when he could only feel the opposite, Hongjoong’s presence almost physically pushing him out.

It took Hongjoong only a moment to give up, which furthered Seonghwa’s worries.

“We’re going to figure it out”, Seonghwa whispered as he kneeled by Hongjoong’s side. He collapsed on the office floor, now holding onto himself. “We always do, don’t we?”

Hongjoong’s eyes seemed unfocused looking down to something on the ground, Seonghwa’s words barely registered in his mind.

When Seonghwa touched his shoulder, Hongjoong looked up to him.

“We always do, don’t we?”

“We do”, he sighed.

Seonghwa wished to say much more at that moment, but Hongjoong in that state would not hear it.

So he only did what he should do, offered a helping hand for Hongjoong to stand once more.

By the end of the day, you did all you could to not go back.

You called Jongho to tell him to get the food delivery when it was close enough to the house. He was surprised, jacket already on hand to buy lunch himself, but it was too late for a polite decline.

The bell rang and you hung up.

You did not come to eat with them, even though you had over two free hours in between classes, but they did not know that and even if they did, would they really call you out on it? It was more comfortable for them that way, so they could be free to behave like they wished to.

You stayed to study on the library after class, which you never did, you rather the comfort and quiet of your room for that, and it was barely 4 p.m.

The list was your salvation to skip dinner. This time, Jongho had time to thank you for the meal in the name of them all.

“It’s not a bother, don’t worry”, you said as you walked out of the second store, bags in hand and the phone tight between your shoulders and left cheek.

“We can cook for ourselves, you know. Don’t you trust us?”, he had that pouting voice through every word, and it took a small smile out of you.

“Of course I do, but you’re my guests and there’s a clear rule, guest don’t do any work around the house, so get used to it”, those words hit him like bricks when you thought it was a string of fresh water.

It was silent on the other side of the line, and you thought the call ended.

“Are you alright?”, his question caught you so off guard, you stopped walking in the middle of the busy street and a woman bumped into you with full force.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”, you smiled to her, but the woman didn’t look back to see your apologetic self.

Your voice was sincere, so Jongho allowed himself to stay calm.

She does not know, she’s not mad at you, he kept repeating to his stupid mind. Of course, you did not know and were not avoiding them on purpose because of it, but he felt his heart heavy still.

“We were just worried, you didn’t say anything so… but you’re safe then?”

“I’m coming soon, alright? Don’t worry about me, I’m just shopping for some stuff I need”, you walked faster, now feeling guilty to left them without a proper warning.

The moment Jongho hung up, the other 7 were waiting for an update. The winter night and the neighborhood made it seem later than it was. It was only 6:28 p.m., but there wasn’t a single soul outside and barely any noticeable noise.

“She’s coming soon”.

Mingi plopped on the couch, relieved. He barely talked to you, yet your presence and actions warmed him, and maybe he was getting too comfortable too fast, but just the thought of you leaving them now made him want to sob.

Yunho sat beside him and Mingi’s gray ears turned to him instinctively, but he had nothing to say. He knew Mingi well enough to know this meant something else to him, it was the possibility of another person abandoning him, and he was ashamed as it was of it. So Yunho did not point it out how that mentality wasn’t good for him at that moment, just offered his arm, that Mingi was elated to accept and cuddle with.

“Do not forget what we talked about today, can you do that Mingi?”, Seonghwa’s toned softened as he talked to him, a bit different from the actual conversation they all had.

Mingi only nodded.

It was a reminder for Yunho and Yeosang as well, no matter how they felt about the topic, they’d do their best to keep the roof on top of their heads.

Before you could grab the keys in your purse, the door suddenly opened.

You watched with your heart on your feet as a yearning Wooyoung took all four bags out of your hands and disappeared inside, too stunned to say anything.

“Uhm, Wooyoung, were you waiting for me?”, you asked as you stepped inside and closed shut the door behind you.

He hummed instead of answering you.

Beside him, there was no one in the living room, and the lack of noises was enough for you to assume they wanted to keep to themselves.

He carefully laid down your bags on the couch, then stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you?”, he stood there shy and small in front of you.

The contrast of his behavior from yesterday evening to this gave you whiplash. Is this Wooyoung, or that was Wooyoung? You need to stop trying to figure them out. They carried huge baggage with them, and maybe you’ll never get to see even a small percentage of it, that was clear to you. Still, it is hard to be the one that had to pretend and ignore the elephant in the room.

“Yes, there is actually, but can we talk for a bit first?”

Wooyoung’s tail stopped its course in the air and his smile faltered, he nodded.

Both of you sat slightly turned to each other, but Wooyoung could not hold your stare, so he looked at the painting on the wall instead.

He thought his minds was playing tricks on him, but you seemed much nervous than he was. Your body was screaming to get out of there and run just like his. What could they’ve done for you to be so tense? Surely, you were not scared of him if you weren’t even scared of Hongjoong or San.

You took a deep breath. Your own mind exhausted you the whole evening and night because of this very moment, you were tired of overthinking every single thing they did.

“I just want to make it clear, so we can stop walking on eggshells around each other”, your voice was barely a whisper, still Wooyoung flinched at the reminder of his own confusing behavior towards you, just like San he’s been hot and cold to you for no reason, when you’ve been nothing but nice to him. “I want you and the others to be here, and you do not have to do anything because you feel like you have to please me in return, can you understand that?”

He nodded.

“I am also not mad at you by any means because of yesterday”.

That made him look at you, because you deserved at least that level of respect, even though your face was a bit blurry through his tears. He knew your kindness was undeserving, and he would do anything to compensate for it, no matter what you say.

You wished to hug him, and maybe he read your mind, because a second later, Wooyoung launched himself into your arms.

It was a silent cry at first, you were stunned in place, surprise by the trust and vulnerability he was showing to you, then you heard his sobs and the sound broke your heart, you never heard before and never wanted to hear again.

You held him tight through the soft tears, loud cries and slurred words he muttered under his breath on your shoulder. Even when your arms stared to hurt, he did not let it go, so neither did you.

It was comfortable to be near you like this, for the first time Wooyoung understood why San liked you so much, and that did not leave a bitter taste in his mouth this time. You were warm and kind and really soft, almost better than his favorite blanket.

“Wooyoung”, you broke your little bubble, and he hummed into your neck. “Can you call the others for me, please? I bought some clothes for you all to try on”.

He was perfectly comfortable in that position, leaning into your side and the last thing on his mind was to move away, but the moment he looked at your soft eyes and pretty smile, he got up.

He should not be understanding San in this way.

Tagslist: @asherthehimbo @katsukis1wife @a1i33a @idfkeddieishot @pyeonghongrie-main @h3arteyes4mingi @huachengsbestie01 @hhoneylix @alxxxnya @queenproxy-blog @staytiny816 @loveforred @darlingz99 @sundayysunshine @puppyminnnie @officiallydarkgeek

[ruegarding]

anyway here's my rant:

despite her comment in son, hazel doesn't have much adhd/dyslexia coding. her treatment at st agnes has more to do w being a black girl in the 1930's and her powers/curse than her possible adhd/dyslexia, considering she never mentions any symptoms specific to adhd or dyslexia in her backstory. the closest things are her interest in horses, which could be considered a hyper-fixation, and her flashbacks, which could be argued as daydreaming associated w inattentive adhd. furthermore, her powers could easily be used as a commentary on masking similar to the general attitude towards her vs other dead ppl (she looks alive, so she deserves to be alive, unlike all these other ppl who went thru the doors of death). overall, interesting set up, not expanded upon in canon.

similarly, the only time piper is ever implied to have adhd is in that boo scene, which doesn't hold much weight bc it's a general statement in an impersonal pov (as opposed to "piper was only able to keep track bc of her adhd/demigod abilities," still in third person pov, but a more personalized statement). this post began as a quest to answer the question "how does piper's adhd manifest," and the answer is "uhhhhhhhhhhh."

continuing w the trend, jason is never implied to have adhd or dyslexia at all. would have been interesting to see, considering jason has the whole gifted-kid-burn-out thing going on, but alas.

i'm not including the statement annabeth makes abt demigods typically having one or both and hazel's statement abt "just being a demigod," bc it's also established that it's not a requirement. the fandom wiki claims frank is the only demigod to not have adhd: if "just being a demigod" means that every demigod has adhd/dyslexia, then frank, inarguably, has adhd/dyslexia, as well.

more importantly, in a story where adhd and dyslexia are explicitly addressed and considered the cornerstone of the world building, i need it to be explicitly said that a character has adhd/dyslexia in order to give credit to canon (my personal hcs are a different story).

so, it seems like leo is the only one out of the lost trio w adhd or dyslexia, and it's only adhd. he frequently references things he's reading and shows no issue doing so, given that it's in a language he understands.

interestingly, leo claims "he couldn’t read ancient greek" in hoh, so it could be that the ease w learning ancient greek (and potentially latin) is exclusive to those w dyslexia. however, this has been as inconsistent as the actual dedication to giving demigods adhd and/or dyslexia. for example, chiron says the ability is "in their blood" in tlh w no mention of dyslexia, but in tlt annabeth says percy has dyslexia bc "[his] mind is hardwired for ancient greek."

the only character to bring up how dyslexia affects them in hoo is percy, making it seem like his dyslexia is much worse than annabeth's, the only other character who we know is dyslexic (from pjo, it's never mentioned in hoo). if leo is "seriously adhd," then percy is seriously dyslexic. something to be said how they're both treated as comic relief in fandom, considering.

frank not being diagnosed despite his dyspraxia coding could be used as a commentary on medical racism and the model minority stereotype. since frank is exclusively listed as the only demigod to not have either diagnosis and his dyspraxia coding eventually disappears, it doesn't appear that that was the intention.

moving to a more theoretical discussion, it's hard to say what is/is not definitively adhd/dyslexia symptoms, specifically using canon, considering we rarely see any of the demigods acting "normal." the majority of the time, they're on a quest/in an extreme situation. contrast w pjo, where we learn things abt percy's adhd and dyslexia while he's at school, a relatively normal situation, and then can apply it to the rest of the series. w hoo, it's almost all guesswork.

leo mentions that his adhd affects his memory, so we know that similar moments can be attributed to his adhd. but is hazel forgetting part of sciron's story a symptom of adhd or just a normal thing that happens bc forgetting things in stressful situations is normal? is jason's seemingly permanent amnesia a symptom of the memory wipe or is it exacerbated by adhd? is piper's aversion to feminine clothing and make up caused by sensory issues? we'll never know, bc they're never said to have adhd.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

The Night Before Someday

A/N: Happy (slightly belated) birthday to my dearest @wings-and-beskar! I wrote you some smut. 💛

Pairing: Cody x Reader (GN)

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Wordcount: 1.6K

Warnings and tags: fluff; roofies mentioned in passing; somebody other than Cody tries to hit on you; SMUT; oral sex; teasing; minor dom/sub dynamics; orgasm delay; established secret/forbidden relationship.

Summary: Did you read “Someday” and feel a burning desire to know what happened the night before? Look no further! This is that fic.

Suggested listening:

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79’s was hot, loud, and crowded. The heavy beat of dance music pulsated through the dense, smoky air of the club. The 212th was on shore leave, and you could swear that all 42,000 troopers in the battalion were currently either in line for the bar or grinding on the dance floor. You weren’t the only nat-born officer in the place, but you still stood out in the sea of clones, and every so often a drunken trooper would hoot your name or cheer raucously as you passed.

The energy was frenetic. To tell the truth, dance clubs weren’t really your usual scene, but it was the first night of leave, and it was expected that the senior command staff would put in an appearance. It wasn’t so bad, though; the troopers were rowdy but unfailingly respectful, and as you headed back to your table after braving the line at the bar for a refill, one of your very favorite trios found you and pulled you inexorably into their orbit. 

“Didn’t think we’d see you here tonight, Major,” Wooley said as he slung his arm over your shoulders with an easy (if somewhat wobbly) smile.

“Why not?” you asked.

“Figured you’d have somethin’ better to do than hang out with the same faces you see all day every day,” Waxer grinned.

“What could possibly be better than this?” you asked, gesturing at the sticky, sweaty crowd.

“Probably just about any nat-born cantina,” Boil replied.

“Oh, we have more than our share of shitty dives,” you replied. “Plus my chances of having my drink roofied are probably lower here than just about any bar in the galaxy.”

“‘Specially with us watching your back,” Wooley said. He was slurring his words a bit, and his arm was ridiculously heavy on your shoulders, but you had a feeling his night was just getting started.

“Surprised you aren’t at the table with the rest of the command staff,” Boil remarked.

“I was on my way back when you waylaid me,” you laughed.

“Eh, we’re more fun anyway,” Waxer said with a charming smile.

Privately, you couldn’t help but agree, not that you would ever, ever say it out loud. Waxer, Boil, and Wooley didn’t have to worry about presenting a dignified facade the way the senior officers—including you—did. 

You drew a breath to reply, and suddenly, a Mirialan tripped and stumbled into you. She righted herself quickly, apologizing profusely in an Outer-Rim trade language. You replied fluently in the same language, reassuring her and asking if she was all right. She nodded and excused herself quickly, and as she left, you checked to make sure she hadn’t swiped your credits.

“Kriff, it’s hot when you do that,” Wooley said, leaning a little closer to your ear.

“What, check to make sure someone didn’t rip me off?” you laughed.

“No, when you speak Sy Bisti or whatever that was,” he replied.

“Meese Caulf,” you said.

“I don’t know how the commander keeps his hands off you when you’re translating for him,” Wooley said a little over-loudly.

Yeah, he’s definitely had enough to drink, you thought.

If you were honest, you liked Wooley just fine. He was sweet and funny, he had great hair, and he looked like… well… a clone trooper. Enough said. You might have considered reciprocating his interest if it weren’t for two very important factors. One: you outranked him by several degrees, and you’d have felt weird about it even if it weren’t officially forbidden for you to fraternize with him. Ironic, all things considered. 

Two—

“Because I don’t fancy a court martial, and I suspect the major doesn’t either, so I’d suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” a voice said from just behind you.

His tone was mild, but all four of you snapped to attention instinctively, and Wooley dropped his arm and put several inches in between himself and you for good measure.

“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir,” Wooley said sheepishly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Commander Cody replied. 

“Er, sorry, Major,” Wooley mumbled.

You kept a perfectly straight face as you reassured Wooley, then extricated yourself from the group and made your way back to the command staff’s table with Cody. 

Once you were out of earshot, you asked, “Court martial? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?”

Cody arched a quizzical brow. “Just looking out for my officers.”

“Careful, Commander. People might start thinking you have an interest beyond strict professionalism.”

Under the guise of steering you around a group of rowdy, drunken troopers, Cody rested his hand on your lower back, and you felt his fingertips graze your bare skin, just beneath the hem of your shirt.

“We can’t have that,” he murmured. He leaned in slightly to whisper in your ear. “I wish I could dance with you.”

You suppressed a smile. “How much longer do we need to keep up this charade before we sneak back to my flat?”

“One more drink ought to do it,” he said. 

You glanced down at your cocktail. “Mine’s already half gone. I’ll leave first so nobody suspects.”

“You know, Wooley was right about one thing. You are hot as kriff.” He pressed his fingers into your back gently, then withdrew his hand as you approached the table where the rest of the senior command waited. “Door code still the same?”

“Always.”

You were in the kitchen chugging the galaxy’s largest glass of water when you heard the front door swish open. By the time it closed again, you were already in Cody's arms. As your lips met, he picked you up and spun you around until you shrieked with laughter. When he set you down, he held you steady until you regained your footing, then slid his hand up your back to hold your head as he leaned his forehead against yours and took a deep, slow breath in and out.

“Hello,” you smiled.

“Hello,” he replied. “I missed you.”

“It's only been an hour,” you pointed out.

“An eternity.” He kissed along your jaw until he reached your ear, whispering, “A lifetime.”

You shivered as his breath tingled across your skin. “Welcome home.”

A quiet rumble of pleasure sounded in his chest at your words. “Let's go to bed.”

“Tired?” you teased.

He slid his hands down your body to grip your ass, pulling you hard against him. “Not even a little bit.”

That’s a kriffing lie, you thought, knowing exactly how busy and exhausted he was, but you weren’t about to call him on it when his lips tasted so perfect, and his body felt so strong and solid and warm, and his hands roamed over you, touching and teasing and exploring. You didn’t even notice that he was expertly guiding you backward through your flat until he leaned you slowly back onto your mattress.

“Excellent diversionary tactics, Commander,” you said as he kissed down your throat and sternum, deftly unbuttoning your top as he progressed.

“Mm,” he murmured, unzipping your trousers and sliding them down your hips. “That’s Marshal Commander.”

Your laugh turned into a gasp as he tugged your underwear out of the way and his tongue caressed your skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, gazing up your body as he stroked his fingers over you softly. He trailed kisses down your pelvis and swirled his tongue over your sex. “I could never taste you enough.”

Oh, gods, but he tried. He devoured you with all the skill and passion of a man deprived too long. He took his time, luxuriating in your smooth skin, your warmth, your scent, your taste, your quiet moans, your desperate whimpers, your frantic squirming beneath his lovely mouth. 

Ever the strategist, he used every tool at his disposal in his relentless pursuit of your pleasure: fingers, tongue, lips—even his teeth: grazing them gently across your tender flesh, then smoothing his tongue over you in soft, comforting strokes. He drew you closer and closer to your climax, refusing to hurry, even when your whimpers and moans gave way to pleading and sobbing as heat pulsed relentlessly through your veins, so close: so close, and yet just out of reach. 

And then—he stopped.

You nearly screamed in frustration. “Damn it, Cody!”

“Manners,” he chided.

You growled. “I am going to get revenge for this.”

“I have no doubt,” he replied, kissing you softly and then brushing his thumb over his swollen lips. “Now ask nicely.”

You gritted your teeth and took a deep breath. “Please, sir, will you let me come?”

He gave you a devilish smile and lowered his head back down to your body, devouring you with renewed enthusiasm, and within seconds, he brought you to the precipice.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted.

He groaned, a deep, gravelly sound that vibrated on your skin, and with a dexterous movement of his fingers, he pushed you over the edge. You let out a hoarse cry, for once not concerned about keeping your volume down, as your hips thrust up off the mattress. He pressed you back down as he kept going, eagerly taking everything you had to give, until you were twitching and writhing helplessly beneath him.

At last, when he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from your body, you fell back, breathing hard as you slowly relaxed against the pillows. He looked up at you with a self-satisfied grin, and you narrowed your eyes vindictively. Wrapping your legs around him, you flipped both of you over so he was lying on his back beneath you, gazing up at you with blatant adoration.

“My turn,” you murmured.

Didn't read "Someday"? It's here, and it's fluffy as hell!

[ashlynredonovitch]

Hello! I love your work! Wondering if I could request a Wonka fic where y/n is having a panic attack and willy finds her and helps her through it! then noodle comes in and they all have a lil family moment ^_^ (willy and y/n are platonic!)

Hi anon! thank you so much for the request! Sorry they have now taken a while longer to get out. My whole family was hit with the flu, including me, and I'm not able to write much because I just keep getting headaches. Hope you like the story!

Warnings: panic attack, anxiety, slight mention of a possible ED if you squint, malnourishment

Hope you enjoy!! :)

Panic

I just finished folding more of the laundry after it finally dried, thankfully finished after the long day of doing laundry with the wash crew. We had taken so long that Scrubitt and Bleacher hadn’t let us eat for an extra hour and a half, and since we still hadn’t gotten it done, I took the rest of the load so the others could go eat. Noodle would bring me my dinner later anyway if I didn’t eat. 

It was my fault anyway, I just was going slow today. I was on barrel duty for the majority of the day, and if the first step of the laundry is slow….the rest of it is slow as well. So I automatically felt bad that I was the reason for withholding everyone’s dinner. 

Scrubitt hadn’t let me eat though, so I would just have to wait for Noodle to bring me my food in a couple hours when she could sneak it in. I was craving something though. It gets worse if I’m thrown in the coop because then you don’t get anything at all. At least I’ll have a chance tonight. If only Willy was here. Him and Noodle are getting more milk for his chocolates while they had a chance to escape before roll call. 

I knew the panic was building up, but it just felt like I could ignore it. The feeling in my stomach from how hungry I was felt like a gnawing pain, I couldn’t even focus as I just collapsed in the corner of my small room. My mind a a million thoughts, but I probably couldn’t even try to name one, all of my focus was on the half-tempting smell of the food my fellow workers were consuming. 

I hate crying, I hate it. The feeling in my chest as it gets tighter and tighter to the point I can’t breathe, I hate the feeling of uncontrollable tears that can’t stop. For some reason though, I can’t, there are no tears. Just painful attempts at a breath. 

“She’s in there. I didn’t want to disturb her, but I’m worried,” I hear Piper say as I heard two sets of footsteps down the narrow hallway, oh, it couldn’t be. I’d be too lucky. 

A light knock was on my door, but I couldn’t even begin to try to lift my head up. 

“Y/n?” The voice questioned through my door, before gently opening it. It was apparently my lucky day. “Hey what’s going on?”

“I- I can’t-” I started before my own breathing stopped me. It felt like I was being choked. 

Willy looked concerned as he examined every inch of my face, or what I could tell from where my head was on my knees. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay. Noodle, go grab a towel!” He hollered as I could see that he tried to reach out to put his hand on my shoulder. 

Apparently once he felt my trembling shoulders he decided I wasn’t well, even without me answering. As Noodle ran in with a towel, Willy instructed her to put water on it. “You’re trembling terribly, here take this.” He offered me his plum-colored tailcoat as he put it over my shoulders, as I stayed curled up in the ball. 

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper out as he tried to loop his arms under me to help me stand. 

“Of course, you know I’d do anything to help you, y/n.” He says earnestly as he guides me over to my small bed. “Here, get under the covers.”

He instructed Noodle to do something else gets that I couldn���t hear. Which I soon would understand as Noodle rushed in with the extra blanket from Willy’s own bed, as he laid it across me. It finally felt like my chest wasn’t being weighted down with a boulder, the comfort of my friend greatly easing my mind. However….

“Y/n, have you eaten anything today?” Noodle hurriedly asked when she stopped. That’s when Willy looked frantically over at me as well, as he sat on my bed. 

“No, I made everyone fall behind earlier, so Scrubitt wouldn’t let me eat.” I say as the tears started to slow, hopefully the last of the bunch as Willy slowly massaged my scalp with his hand. 

“I’m gonna go fix that, I’ll be right back.” She said as she skidded across the floor. 

Not before I let out a quiet “don’t get thrown in the chicken coop” causing the man behind me to let out a quiet laugh. 

“I was really scared when Piper said you isolated yourself in here.” Willy told me, as I tried to look up at him from where I was laying. 

“Sorry,” I told him nonchalantly, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, you were having a panic attack, I just got worried. How about after you get some actual food in you, I’ll make your favorite chocolate to cheer you up?” He asked as he continued to rub my head. 

I smiled as I felt the other muscles in my body relaxed, “that sounds really nice.”

“You’re safe now, y/n, Noodle is going to get you dinner, and then we’ll find some funny combination for tonight’s chocolate.” He smiled at me as I listened to him talk, nodding my head at his eagerness. Never had someone been able to help me through an attack that quickly. Even though it had felt like hours, Willy just had a certain charm about him that made it easy to relax. At least now I know someone is there to help me should the need arise again.

[nekropsii]

people want a gay male version of the dancestor poll???? like one guy there would be able to have a good relationship with another person and most certainly not with any of the other male dancestors. (hint: its mituna)

Yeah. I love the Alpha Trolls, they’ve been my jam since I first got into the comic, like, 10 years ago, but… Look, man, you can like the Alpha Troll guys all you want, they are interesting characters in their own right, but I am pretty sure Hussie explicitly wrote them to be honest to god nonfunctional in shipping contexts.

This even includes friendships. The only exception is, as you’ve said, Mituna, who is literally the only male Alpha Troll I could easily see in functional relationships- platonic, romantic, and otherwise- but genuinely none of those good possibilities are with any of the other male Alpha Trolls. Mituna is the only male Alpha Troll that’s capable of having a normal, functioning relationship, especially on a long term scale, just… Not with any of the other men here. Mituna can have great relationships!! Just only with the female side of the Alpha Troll cast.

Acting like gay male Alpha Troll ships are anything of substance- especially functional, stable substance- just feels like major copium. Sorry to my followers for using the word copium, I couldn’t think of any other way to put it. Literally none of them work. None of them are something that should spark joy. The only times they do work in some degree, it’s only as a god damn case study, and shouldn’t really be included under the label of “shipping”, in my opinion. It’s really fucking funny.

The male Alpha Trolls are absolutely fucking unshippable. Unfortunately, this doesn’t stop people, and a good 95% of the time I see some ship involving an Alpha Troll guy, I just pull out a gun. Sorry, not sorry.

So, yeah, no M/M version of the Alpha Troll Yuri Poll. The men get too much attention for all the wrong reasons, and every single god damn combination of them is terrible.

Plus, I wouldn’t be caught dead putting Cronus or Kankri as options in Best Ship polls. Ew. Ew ew ew. I’d rather set myself ablaze.

[tojisbbg]

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠

❝i'm trying to tell you something, something that i already said.❞  

♡ nagi seishiro ♡

a/n: if you couldn’t tell, i’m hyperfixating on blue lock rn. 

content: nagi seishiro x reader, roommates au, shorter than my other fics, fluffy, little bit of kissing, not edited. 

---

you shoved your hand in your purse, digging around urgently to fish out your keys. after finally getting a hold of the keys, you tried to unlock the door, only to have the keys slip from your grasp. you cursed at yourself, a scowl painted on your face as every single thing in your life was slowly pushing you over the edge. 

you just wanted to enter the comforts of your home as fast as possible, feeling like you could collapse on the ground in a matter of minutes. you didn’t know why you felt like this, an overwhelming amount of sadness and agony washing over you. the only thing you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die on your bed. 

finally, you were able to unlock the door as you kicked off your shoes to the side before locking the door behind. you threw your purse on the floor before plopping on the sofa. it was seven in the evening and the house was quiet, nothing out of the ordinary. 

your roommate, nagi, always came home much later on the day due to his soccer practices. this left the majority of the quiet time in your house as yours. regardless, nagi wasn’t really a loud person, only sometimes when he’d play his games really loudly in the living room on his days off. the both of you rarely spoke to each other as nagi was a pretty reserved person and he didn’t like doing anything that’d require him to do more than breathing, playing games and playing soccer. 

you didn’t mind though, it was actually a relief that you didn’t get screwed up with a pain in the ass type of roommate. nagi wasn’t much of a hassle as he paid his share of the rent on time, did grocery shopping on the days that was his turn, and he was a pretty clean person. 

though you rarely saw him, he had a strange effect on you. at first you thought maybe it was because of his mysterious behavior or perhaps it was the little things that he did. some of which included walking around the house shirtless, working out in the living room with his home equipment, or how he’d look so focused on his games. 

it made you feel funny and you hated it. 

 you were in a relationship with your boyfriend of two years, happily in love until things took a twisted turn. the doubt and lack of trust that your lover had in you because of your opposite gender roommate led to a rise in ridiculous hypothetical conclusions. 

today was the last straw. 

even after explaining to your boyfriend, now ex, that your male roommate was barely home and even if he was that a single human couldn’t have known about his existence; the man was still not convinced. you were a very fluid and transparent person, telling nagi about your boyfriend since he’d come over frequently. the snowy haired male simply shrugged before minding his own business. 

yet your ex’s words were sharp to the tongue and painful to the heart, telling you how all men are the same and women are nothing but bimbos when it came to an attractive man. his words made your blood boil, making you angry that just because he’s insecure about himself he’s projecting his negativity on you. 

and so, you broke up with him. 

now here you are, moping on your couch as you cried an ugly sob. you could’ve sworn that you’ve cried two gallons of your salty tears by now. the noises leaving your mouth were loud and full of agony, as you could barely breathe. 

you were hurting inside and you couldn’t find relief. 

“y/n? you good?” you heard a groggy voice call out for you, making your ears alert as you quickly wiped away your teary face dry. you picked up your head to see nagi by his room’s doorway, shirtless and wearing a pair of sweats as he rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. 

“yeah, i’m fine.” you quickly turned around and blurted out a lie, now feeling embarrassed that he caught you crying like a little bitch when you thought he wasn’t home. you now stupidly realize that it was saturday today, meaning that it was nagi’s day off. you were waiting to hear the sound of his door closing, but instead you heard footsteps inching closer to you. 

suddenly, you felt his fingers grab your chin before lifting your head, forcing you to meet his eyes. you saw him looking down at you with sharp eyes, your eyes widening in shock as your heat began to rise to your cheeks and your heart thumped in your chest ferociously. 

“huh, you don’t look so fine to me. what’s wrong? why are you crying?” nagi asked, his hand now moving to caress your cheeks as you felt the pads of his fingers wipe away your tears. these little actions and gestures stimulated you to cry even harder as you shook your head. 

“i-” you tried to begin your sentence, only to miserably fail as you choked on your tears midway. nagi let out a heavy sigh before taking a seat next to you before pulling you close to his chest. you didn’t even try to fight back with yourself, accepting the comfort that he’s willing to provide you with.

the skin of his chest was so soft in comparison to how hard and well-sculpted his athletic body was. he smelled really good too, a very fresh and manly scent radiated off of him. 

“it’s okay, you don’t gotta tell me right now.” he murmured, rubbing your back as you tried to relax. 

“i broke up with my boyfriend.” you sniffled, making nagi’s hand movement stop. 

“you’re crying over some silly guy? come on, y/n, i know that you’re better than this.” nagi scoffed, making you look up at him with glassy eyes as he gave you a slightly disappointed look. 

“but i loved him.” you quietly whispered, tears still falling on his bare chest and you felt bad, but nagi didn’t seem to care too much. 

“did he love you?” he asked, his question making your brain stop working as you paused, needing some time to think about the answer. 

your boyfriend always treated you like you were some kind of certification for him that declared him as a man who could pull bitches. he never once thought about what you liked to eat, what you enjoyed doing, nor was he thoughtful on planning for dates. 

so, did he really love you? 

“he did.” you thinned your lips, wanting to save your last bits of dignity to not die from shame in front of your roommate. nagi let out a hum in response from your answer. 

“okay, then you were in the wrong. go get back together with him.” the snowy haired male shrugged, his face holding an expression of boredom. 

“how is it my fault?” your eyebrows furrowed in slight irritation from how his words rubbed you in the wrong way. 

“a girl doesn’t break up with a dude she’s been in a relationship with for two years unless he fucks up real bad. but, since you both are in love, you obviously misread the situation then. go kiss and make up.” nagi patted your back for encouragement. 

you scoffed in utter shock, opening your mouth to say something until someone knocked on your door. both you and nagi turned your focus on the door, before nagi offered to open the door as he slipped away from your previously crying form. 

“can i help you?” nagi asked after opening the door, an unfamiliar male that he’s never seen in his life before was at the doorsteps of his home. the guy laughed in disbelief before his face was replaced with an angry look. 

“that fucking slut didn’t even bother to show you who’s the guy she’s been with for two years? what else has she been doing behind my back, huh? actually, how many other guys has she been fucking around with?” the guy spewed out crazy shit in the middle of the hallway, making nagi annoyed. you peaked from the sofa and realized it was your ex, making you jump out of your place as you rushed to the door. 

suddenly, nagi grabbed him by the collar, easily towering over your ex who was inches shorter than the 6′3 striker. 

“you wanna say that shit again, assface? your mama never taught you how to respect women, hm? i hate fighting, but i don’t like the way you’re talking about y/n. so, we could take this outside, if you want.” nagi said in a low voice, his tone was daring and his eyes darkened with anger as you watched in horror. 

“let me go, you fucking freak! this is between me and my girlfriend.” your ex tried to peel himself away from nagi’s tight hold but failed. the tall male snorted at the lousy attempt of breaking away from his hold, roughly grabbing the dude’s jaw as your ex winced in pain. 

“yeah? well, i’m the guy who she dumped your ass for. so, it’s actually between the three of us. but, the conversation is gonna end here ‘cause if you’re not out of my sight in the next five seconds, i’m gonna break your legs.” nagi threatened before harshly letting the guy go, making him stumble back before losing his balance, collapsing on the floor. 

“y/n! i know you’re behind him, you fucking user. give me back all the money that i dumped on your cheating ass!” your ex angrily bellowed, some of the neighbors now opening their doors to watch what the commotion was. 

“for god’s sake, please, go home and i’ll sort things out with you later. you’re causing a scene!” you whisper-yelled at him, eyes begging him to shut up but he was persistent. 

“why the hell would i do that? everyone in this world deserves to know your true colors, you gold digging bitch.” he spat out, making your eyes well with tears as you looked down, not being able to pick your head up while the people stared down at you and gossiped. 

“here, take this and leave.” nagi said in a monotone, reaching inside his pocket to pull out his wallet before throwing hundred dollar bills on the ground where your ex was sitting. the man looked shocked, but still shamelessly picked up all the bills before shoving it in his jacket pocket. 

nagi took a hold of your hand as he pulled you back inside the house, closing the door before locking it. 

“fucking prick.” you heard him murmur to himself before walking towards the sofa, taking a seat. 

“come here.” he demanded from you, patting the spot next to him. his sudden request flustered you as you and nagi never really sat down and do things together. nonetheless, you accepted his little invite and sat down. 

“so, i’m assuming i’m the culprit of this whole situation?” nagi cocked an eyebrow, watching you fiddle with your fingers nervously. you looked up at him with softened eyes before shaking your head. 

“i would never never blame you, sei. anyways, i saw this breakup coming sooner or later. he was too controlling and possessive over me. i guess you were fuel that ignited it.” you joked a little at the end, making him chuckle. 

“good, pretty little things like you deserve better than assholes like him.” nagi said, looking at you with a strange glint in his eyes. you gulped harshly, feeling a little shy. 

he thought you were pretty?

for some odd reason, your heart felt fuzzy and your pulse began to race. you dared not to look at him, afraid that he could read right through you. 

“well, that hope is all gone now.” you let out a heavy sigh, reaching over to the glass table where your lipgloss was. you applied it on your lips since they felt a little chapped from your little crying sessions. 

“why?” nagi asked, confused. 

“he’s most likely gonna go around to every single human on earth and tell them that i’m a cheater and gold digger. nobody wants to date someone like that.” you bitterly laughed, placing the gloss back on the table before looking at him with sad eyes. 

“but that’s not true, you’re none of those things.” he frowned, a cute little pout on his lips. your heart swelled, he looked adorable and it made you wish that you could kiss that little pout of his. 

“yeah, but only you and i know that.” you shrugged, accepting your defeat and miserable fate. 

“then be my girlfriend.” nagi suddenly blurted out, making you choke on your own spit. you looked at him with eyes the size of two full moons, waiting for him to break out into a laugh to tell you that he was just messing around with you. 

but no such thing happened. 

his eyes were trained on yours, waiting for an answer. 

“sei, we ca-”

“why can’t we? i’ve liked you for a really long time and i know that you like me back too, y/n. i see how you look at me and my eyes never lie. so, stop fighting against it and let me take care of you like how you deserve to be.” nagi’s voice was gentle, a hand coming up to your face to sway the loose hairs covering your face to expose more of you to his eyes. 

“okay, then let’s go on a date tomorrow.” you smiled at him and nagi gave you a boyish grin. he placed a hand behind your head before leaning closer to you. 

“sei! my glo-” your words were cut off by the feeling of his lips on yours. you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. nagi liked your response to his bold move, trailing his hands down to your waist before he pulled you on his lap. 

you relaxed your muscles, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace as you continued to follow the movement of his lips. nagi liked the feeling of your sticky gloss coating his lips, occasionally getting a taste of the sweet cherry lip product on his tongue. 

you felt his hands go under your shirt as his calloused fingers danced on your spine, sending goosebumps all over your body. your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, so you were forced to pull away. you looked down at nagi, who’s face was flushed and lips shiny with a coating of your cherry flavored gloss as you both panted. 

“why’d you pull away?” he whined, making you giggle before you pinched his cheeks. 

“i had to breathe, sei.” you gave him peck to console him. nagi hummed in content, enjoying how your soft and plump lips felt against his. 

“what should we do now?” you asked him, carding your fingers through his smooth snowy locks. 

“sleep.” nagi shortly answered, eyes half-lidded before he pulled you down with him on the sofa. he placed his head on the cushion while you moved your head on his chest, wrapping your leg around his waist. nagi’s arms protectively wrapped around your waist to make sure that you don’t fall off the sofa while sleeping. 

you could hear the gentle hammering of his heartbeat and it made yours follow the same rhythm. you smiled before placing a quick peck on his chest. 

“sleep well, sei.” you mumbled against his soft flesh, closing your eyes. 

“you too, baby.” nagi responded, midway in the process of yawning. 

then a comforting silence fell upon you both as the room was now filled with soft snores.

[peachdues]

Phantasmagoria — Extended Teaser

Sanemi x F!Reader (Tell Me to Stop Modern AU)

A/N: omg hi. It’s been a while since I’ve give you all a teaser of the upcoming WIPs, but since you all were so lovely during Bar prep, I thought I would give you a treat.

The teaser below consists of snippets from several scenes from all three parts of Phantasmagoria — including a small NSFW teaser and a POV from Kyojuro. Every divider line represents a time skip; the story mainly takes place over the course of the summer between their junior and senior year of college. Major angst ahead, see the CW for the warnings.

Synopsis: Y/N, Sanemi, and Kyojuro were an unstoppable trio in their youth. But right as they prepare to enter college at Ubayashiki University, tragedy strikes and Y/N mistakenly confesses her love for Sanemi at the worst possible time. Now, a year and a half has passed, and Y/N hasn’t spoken to either of her best friends since, but that’s all about to change as their friend groups converge and Y/N explores an experimental new drug called Wisteria.

TW: drug/alcohol abuse, toxic friends with benefits (later to lovers), grief, trauma, literally everyone needs to go to therapy. Wisteria is supposed to be an analogue to ecstasy.

CW: toxic FWB, sex/drugs/alcohol as a coping mechanism, reader lowkey uses Sanemi because she thinks he’s using her. Brief NSFW snippet (oral F!receiving, penetrative sex). Sanemi pines HEAVILY in this one.

Song inspiration here ; playlist here

I hope you all enjoy!

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But even though the sour drinks made her feel so warm and so vibrant while she was out dancing, there were still moments when clarity hit her and she missed them.

She missed the way Kyojuro’s strong arm would drape around her shoulders, heavy and warm but his embrace felt like home, his deep laugh contagious.

She missed the way Sanemi would pretend to hug her unwillingly, but would leave his hands lingering on her back or her waist after she moved to pull away, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his tantalizing mouth. She missed the smell of his cologne, clean and a little pine-y as he would lean in close to her face to tease her until she blushed.

She missed them so much that the sharp sting of alcohol stopped dulling the pulsing ache in the cavity where her heart once beat. No matter how many shots, no matter how many sticky acid drinks she tossed back, the gnawing in her chest would not cease.

Then, one night, Shinobu pressed a small, lilac pill into her hand and everything changed.

Initially, Y/N was apprehensive, because the pill perfectly matched the hue of the eyes of the person she wanted to forget most. But Shinobu promised her that this pill — Wisteria — would have her feel like she did as a kid on Christmas, and Y/N caved.

At first, she’d felt nothing, no impact beyond the slight buzz provided by the round of shots she’d done upon first arriving at the Kizuki Club. But then, as Mitsuri twirled her beneath flashing lights of pink and yellow, Y/N’s world exploded with a vibrance she’d neither seen nor felt in nearly two years, and suddenly everything seemed magical; effervescent; infinite.

—————————————————————————

(….)

And as his eyes fell upon her, she chanted over and over in her mind for him to not say it, to not let her name fall from his lips, because she could not bear to hear it. It would’ve been easier, so much easier, if he simply pretended like she didn’t exist because then she could go on pretending like she wasn’t walking around without a heart; like he hadn’t been carrying it with him even all these months later.

He smirked, and said her name, in that voice, and it took everything Y/N had not to fold right there.

But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t let him know that he still held any power over her, and so she merely raised an eyebrow at him and smirked back, challenging him.

“Sanemi.”

—————————————————————————

(…)

“And where have you been hiding all this time?” Y/N fought the shiver that threatened to lick up her spine at the sound of that cursed, gravelly voice that had always made her weak at the knees.

But Y/N had not spent the last twenty months learning how to keep off of Sanemi Shinazugawa’s radar for nothing, hadn’t learned to keep her grief and rage and pain locked deep inside the empty cavern of her chest just to crumble under the intensity of that lilac stare.

Y/N threw her head back to swallow the shot to tequila the bartender had placed before her before turning to face him. Sanemi looked every bit the simpering, cocky asshole she’d always known him to be, leaned up against the sticky wood of the bar, one fist resting idly under his cheek as he watched her.

She met his gaze evenly, shoulders loose with a relaxedness that she didn’t feel. “I’ve been right here,” she replied smoothly.

Sanemi shook his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly at her. “Nah, you haven’t,” he downed his own shot of vodka, before returning his eyes to her, looking her over in consideration. “Though, I guess it would’ve been hard to know it was you anyways.”

Y/N felt herself stiffen slightly, but she kept her voice light. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Sanemi watched her carefully for a moment, though his eyebrows furrowed, as though he was struggling to choose his words.

“I just wouldn’t have ever expected to see you in a place like this.” He decided, after a moment, a frown tugging at the corners of his sinful mouth.

It was Y/N��s turn to smirk. “That would assume you knew me at all to begin with,” she challenged, motioning the bartender for another shot.

Something tightened in Sanemi’s eyes as he held her gaze, and it tightened the knot of unease Y/N had tried all night to ignore in her stomach. “I did, once.”

Y/N kept her face impassive. “Maybe, as a girl.” She accepted her second shot from the bartender and brought it to her lips, biting down on a wince as the sharp burn of the cheap liquid slid down her throat. “But not as a woman.”

Though she did not show it, his words struck a wound deep within her that she’d not realized still festered; because, as hard as she tried to pretend that the man beside her was a mere stranger, his words reminded her of the harsh truth.

She was still in love with him; had been, ever since she’d learned what love meant.

A shadow flashed across his face before disappearing, that insufferable smirk sliding onto his face once more. “I guess you’re right; a girl doesn’t wear a dress like that.” Sanemi purred.

—————————————————————————

(…)

Sanemi’s lips met the band of her thong and he growled, deep and guttural as he pressed his nose against her, inhaling deeply as his tongue flicked out once more to lap at her wet cunt over the rough lace obscuring her from view.

Y/N was nearly sobbing from overstimulation, and she knew she needed him to fill her, and to do it now.

“Sanemi,” she whined, and his eyes flicked back up to hers, dark with want. “Please, I need you.”

Her words had an instantaneous effect on the heaving man between her legs, because suddenly his body was covering her own, and his pants were gone, and he was slamming into her with a force that left her breathless and writhing against his soft sheets

He pulled her legs over his forearms and braced his hands on her inner thighs to spread her wide as he pounded into her, leaning down into her face to make her blush, just like he used to do. Only now instead of teasing her, he was whispering filth that had her turning scarlet and begging for more.

—————————————————————————

(…)

Y/N leaned against the counter of the bar, nursing her beer as she watched her pink friend giggle and murmur sweetly to the black haired boy dancing with her, the latter’s hands hesitantly gripping her friend’s waist.

“You don’t approve?” A familiar voice rose over the pounding bass of the club music from her side. Y/N didn’t have to turn her head to know who’d sidled up next to her — she would know his blistering heat anywhere.

She tapped her fingers against the sweaty side of her glass. “I just don’t understand why he won’t make a move.” Y/N said after a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her red-painted lips.

Sanemi followed her line of sight and his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Maybe he wants to, but he thinks it’ll just make things worse.” He replied after a moment, voice quiet.

Y/N hummed in disagreement. “He’s making it worse by not doing anything at all - he’s made her think it’s her fault things arent working out between them.”

“He does care about her, though. More than she realizes.” Sanemi offered, watching as Obanai delicately brushed a strand of Mitsuri’s pink hair from her eyes.

Y/N finally rolled her head to the side to look at him, and idly she wondered if her eyes looked as numb as she felt. “If he did, he wouldn’t keep hurting her; wouldn’t have hurt her to begin with.”

Sanemi stared back at her, and it made her heart squeeze to see that there is the faintest trace of pain in his gaze, even in spite of his small smile. “‘S not that simple, though.”

She looked away. “It could’ve been,” Y/N took a long sip of her drink, part of her hoping that he couldn’t hear the jaded edge that crept into her voice. “And now all they know how to do is use one another.”

—————————————————————————

(Kyojuro’s flashback)

Where’s your date, Shinazugawa?” Rengoku chuckled, reaching for a beer though disheartened to see that only one was left, Sanemi having finished at least three since arriving back home.

“Called off,” Sanemi said thickly, his words slightly garbled as he tried to fake his own sobriety — the surest sign he was already drunk off his ass.

Kyojuro clapped his shoulder sympathetically. “You or her?”

Sanemi took another swig of his drink. “Me.” He looked up at his best friend and Kyojuro was shocked to see how forlorn and sad the hothead looked. “None of ‘em are her.”

It was rare that Sanemi brought her up, especially in the wake of everything that had happened after Genya’s death — but Kyojuro hadn’t been foolish enough to think that a substantial part of the chip on Sanemi’s shoulder hadn’t stemmed from his complicated feelings about her — Y/N.

Their best friend, at least, once upon a time.

Though, Kyojuro supposed, it wasn’t as if Sanemi’s feelings about their friend were really all that complicated — he’d known the abrasive loudmouth had longed for the trio’s only girl since any of them had understood what it meant to long for someone.

Kyojuro had seen his friend’s feelings on display countless times since they were teenagers — he saw it in the way his eyes softened every time she smiled at him, or the way Sanemi seemed to always lean into her touch whenever she brushed something from his hair.

Then, there had been that time after Y/N had her braces put in — they’d been around thirteen or so — and she’d refused to smile with her teeth, until Sanemi had snapped at her and said she’d looked constipated.

Y/N’s eyes had filled with tears, and her cheeks had burned with her embarrassment, until he’d squatted down in front of her.

“Why’d’ya wanna hide your smile anyways — it’s too pretty.” He’d said, very matter-of-factly, leaning in close to her face as he always did when he teased her. “C’mon, show me! I wanna see your smile.”

Shyly, Y/N had smiled at him, braces and all, and Sanemi had grinned back, nodding in satisfaction. “See? What’d I tell ya? Pretty as a picture.”

Then, there had been their senior prom, when Sanemi had gotten wind of another boy’s plan to ask her to be his date. Though the big dance had still been more than six months away, Sanemi had stormed into the cafeteria, plopped down across from her as she ate with the Koyuki girl, and demanded she attend with him.

When the night of their prom arrived, Kyojuro thought Sanemi was going to pass out the moment he saw Y/N descend the stairs at her mother’s house, dressed in that floor-length emerald dress. Throughout the whole night, Sanemi had treated their best friend as though she were made of glass, his hands for once hesitant and uncertain as he’d found her waist during a slow dance. Kyojuro’d truly thought his friends would finally, finally kiss and admit their poorly-concealed feelings for one another. But Sanemi had returned Y/N to her mother, the latter only parting with a soft kiss against the flustered boy’s crimson cheek before disappearing inside.

How could they have known, that night, just how far they’d all fall? How could they have known how Genya’s death would shatter more than his brother, but indelibly fracture their life-long bond and transform them into total strangers?

(….)

“Look, I love and worry after Y/N too, but she’s using you-“

“So what if she is?” Sanemi croaked, taking a harsh drag of his cigarette. “She can use me as much as she wants. I don’t mind.”

Kyojuro’s eyes softened. “Sanemi —“

“At least it means I can keep an eye on her.” Sanemi flicked the dying butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his boot. He began to walk away, holding his hand up to wave over his shoulder as he set off back across the lively street.

————————————————————————-

(Y/N’s POV)

“Why won’t you let me care for you?” He asked quietly, and Y/N felt her stomach twist because she’d known this conversation was coming, but that didn’t mean she wanted to have it.

“Why do you want to?” She sighed, running an anxious hand through her hair as she slumped against the kitchen counter.

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[adiluv-moved]

❥ PHOTOGRAPHER + BUBBLY S/O HCS. ˚⊹꒷

☁️୧・꒰word count꒱ 1101.

⚜️୧・꒰warnings꒱ slightly rushed ꒰attempted to beat the 'not posting tonight' allegations꒱.

🪻୧・꒰adi moment꒱ request here! must say, i'm a big fan of joseph's beautiful gorgeous nature! apologies for those that don't have the hyacinth emoji available ꒰my laptop included꒱—i promise that this looks good on supported devices. still, i really loved this prompt, and i hope you enjoy! ꒰ ´ ˘ `꒱

꒰⚔️꒱・Joseph certainly would’ve never expected to find somebody as bright as you residing within the accursed Oletus Manor. Or, at the very least, somebody who was able to stay so bright even after discovering the true, disturbing nature of the game. Most others had been quick to fall into a state of despair ꒰even if temporary꒱ after coming to such a morbid realization, and while Joseph wasn’t taken too far aback by such knowledge—having had a hidden dark-side of his own—the repetitiveness of it did eventually manage to get to him. So seeing you, all optimistic and cheery, continuing to hold out hope for something better… for freedom… it ignited a spark of hope within him, shocking as it was.

꒰⚔️꒱・Truthfully, he really does admire your positive outlook on life, a sentiment that’s heightened if you’ve had a particularly difficult past. It’s easy to say that the manor’s appeal usually does arise from the desire to have a new life, something that—in its own, twisted way—does come true. This ability of yours to stay so kind, despite the hardships you’ve faced both in and outside of the manor, is one that he respects—especially knowing that such a thing couldn’t be true for himself.

꒰⚔️꒱・I imagine that Joseph would very much enjoy flustering you. There’s something so utterly interesting to him about the way that your normally loud demeanor vanishes whenever he flirts with you, instead replaced by a blushing, stammering mess. Much to your dismay, this task is one that proves to be relatively easy for the photographer, too—his previous life having required him to know how to charm people. After all, it’s much easier to find willing models when you know how to flatter them, no? But, of course, he means every word he tells you.

꒰⚔️꒱・As an extension of this, he also enjoys teasing you whenever you become flustered by his gestures of affection. Your reactions are just so… so adorable, really—he just can’t help but want to see the way you attempt to hide your reddened cheeks! He might even pinch them, too, assuming that he’s feeling especially playful. However, as much as he relishes in riling you up, he’s also quite good at understanding when he’s crossing the line—and he’ll be quick to stop himself if he notices that he’s taking things too far.

꒰⚔️꒱・I’ll be honest, you’ve dragged him onto the roller-coaster at Moonlit River Park at some point. He’s never really been the type to enjoy the circus—his status as a Count does place certain expectations on his shoulders, ones that he’s been taught since birth to uphold—so let me tell you… That ride absolutely broke him. While he would’ve attempted to maintain his composure at the beginning, he’d end up screaming his lungs out for a majority of the ride, hitting notes higher than you’d thought possible on the loop and cursing out a mix of both English and French loud enough for your teammates to hear.

꒰⚔️꒱・The poor man wasn’t even able to get out of the cart by the time that hellish experience was over, entire body trembling like a leaf during a hurricane as you attempted to pull him out. You were genuinely worried that he would’ve collapsed right then and there, and he had to brace himself against one of the metal posts at the coaster’s final station as he surrendered. Joseph would later make an attempt to keep the news of his embarrassing reactions under wrap, though Freddy wasted no time in informing your fellow survivors about the events of the match. I… wouldn’t be too shocked when he uses that map to reach his quota of serious games against you. 

꒰⚔️꒱・He’d rather be damned than allow anybody to destroy your cheerful personality, an attitude that applies to both the other survivors and his fellow hunters. For the most part, any sort of rudeness directed towards you isn’t something that he’ll address in the moment, instead preferring to watch from the sidelines and comfort you once they’ve left. Once your spirits have been restored, however, and he parts ways with you… his response becomes much different.

꒰⚔️꒱・Say what you want about him, but Joseph feels absolutely zero shame in targeting a survivor until they decide to apologize to you, and most other hunters already know that it’s a bad idea to try and go head-to-head with a trained ꒰and highly skilled꒱ fencer. He does take quite good care in maintaining his rapier, after all. 

꒰⚔️꒱・He’ll always encourage you to express yourself, even when you aren’t necessarily feeling all that positive about your current living situation. While he certainly does know that your positivity is a part of you, he also knows that it’s incredibly unhealthy for one to live life whilst not allowing themselves to express any sort of negative emotion. If you’d like to rant to him about something, or if you just feel like moping, then he’ll be glad to lend you an ear. Can’t have you bottling your feelings up, now can he? Especially not when he adores hearing that delightful voice of yours.

꒰⚔️꒱・Although he loves you, and is eternally grateful that you’d decided to accept the baron’s invitation—Joseph just can’t help but find it downright cruel that somebody as wonderful as you ended up stuck within such a horrible place. It’s a terrible twist of fate, in his eyes, that you’re forced to suffer through these games—possibly even for the rest of your life, seeing the ever growing amount of residents within the manor. This isn’t something that he talks about often, though he longs for nothing more than a life where the both of you could’ve met outside of Oletus’ doomed walls, regardless of how unlikely such a thing would be.

꒰⚔️꒱・In any case, it’s an idle fantasy that his mind simply can’t help but wander to every now and then—more so whenever the night approaches. His desire to cuddle with you often leads him to share your bed, thoughts often drifting to you as he holds your sleeping form in his arms. His dreams grant him no reprieve from such reveries, either, thoughts of a peaceful life with you plaguing his slumber. 

꒰⚔️꒱・How lovely it would be, in some sort of other life, to be back within his own manor—waking up in his room with you beside him, living blissfully without ever having to come in contact with the baron. The both of you could travel the town—country, even—if you wished, strolling around like one of those couples in his favorite paintings. Oh, if only there were a way to escape…

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

[kale-smoothies]

Scourge’s experiences with the heroic/good side of things, is why a major part of him believes being worse as a person (or his words “different from Sonic” ) down the line would be better in the long run. 

Anti Jules, an important but weaselly politician for the Great Peace, is heavily implied in neglecting his own son in favor for this line of work. 

Meeting his heroic counterpart for the first time, where in his eyes, threw him to the wolves [Kintobor], when they were supposed to just be racing for fun. 

Labeled as the cheap evil knockoff of his counterpart, and getting a confirmation after meeting Sonic Prime, stirred some bitterness and lowered his self-esteem deep down likely. 

In his own way, would try to be lenient with his team as Anti Sonic. Didn’t even try to strike back every time Anti Antoine tried to kill him. Still, the gang would often plan to betray or ditch him for not wanting to cause chaos all the time. Got their utmost “respect” and obedience when he did strike back as Scourge. 

Tried to be a hero once. But even if the effort in getting rid of Sonic entirely was successful, the coward in him would’ve prevailed the more he fought against Eggman the way Sonic does. Death must terrify him.

“You could be a hero!” 

“And what does heroism get you?” 

Probably realized down the line upholding the heroic image would be a hassle if he did things Sonic’s way, while back in his own planet, it was a one and done deal by being the conqueror of his own planet. 

Everyone including Kintobor that likely had good intentions in his planet were shot down in seconds by him, proving his “point.” 

Father and Son confrontation. Jules, despite being an opposite of his father, still reminded him of Anti-Jules in the end. (He was in deep denial mode, sure, considering everything Jules said about him was true but I think it was important to address.) 

Prison, was constantly beaten down. This was apparently in the name of reformation. The guards didn’t care to help him when he was obviously suffering. Even Fiona’s good intentions could’ve got him killed if she and her group weren’t formidable enough. Sonic and Zonic were the ones who threw him here too. 

[Bonus: the apparent succession according to Flynn would’ve have him result as Sonic Prime but with a lot of baggage behind it.]

Sobs. Flynn wanted him to get worse, so there very clearly a pattern just getting set up as part of the reason on why Scourge didn’t want to be a good person. 

// I see people argue and wonder on why Scourge insists on being the way he is, and yeah uh huh, I like the idea of him reforming but loooook at his support system! 😭 Also I just want to ramble about this green lil dude once again.

God bless your little rants, I enjoy hearing people’s opinions.

I agree with ALL OF THIS!! Thinking about Scourge makes me so ill. (Forgive me if something isn’t accurate I haven’t read the archie comics in months)

Anti-Jules had always neglected Scourge to focus on maintaining peace on Moebius. I believe THIS could be the sole reason why he went down this path.

Jules turns his attention to the public, and people who threaten to disrupt the peace. Best way to get his attention? Start causing trouble and FORCE him to pay attention, this is what I believe led him to hang out with the suppression squad.

Maybe, he could’ve been just another Sonic. Yet, bitterness from his father’s neglect sent him down to a path he couldn’t turn back from. Maybe being with the suppression squad gave him a sort of comfort he didn’t find at home, leading him to stick with them even though they couldn’t give two shits about him.

Also, possibly finding about other Zones made him question ALOT of things. I feel like he observed Sonic’s zone, and the blue blur himself, and envied the close connections that seemed to come too easily with his counterpart.

Maybe being labelled as “Anti/Evil-Sonic” was the last straw for him. That’s what made him go from a little trickster/“thug” to somebody who conquered his world and killed his father.

Oh my god. I could talk about prison Scourge for AGES! First of all, the rehabilitation techniques were very much immoral.

Zobotnik didn’t want to rehabilitate Scourge in my eyes, he saw a powerful force and wanted to use that for his own benefit. Yet, that force hates him, so best thing to do is break down his spirit and mold him into a force for good (LITERALLY HIS WORDS)

It makes me so sick

Everything Scourge went through was to break his spirit and by god it was slowly chipping away. He slept on SPRINGS. He was shoved into a WASHING MACHINE. He had WAY less portions of food compared to everyone else AND I don’t think he ate it most of the time because of Smalls. He had his quills trimmed, which I researched to find that you should NOT do this to hedgehogs as it weakens their defense and may cause infections.

Look, if Archie came over to me and said that Scourge would’ve went to electro-shock therapy to tone down his violent tendencies I wouldn’t be surprised.

And the fact you’re telling me that if this WORKED, he would’ve just become like any other Sonic? It makes it sadder.

[dcangel]

hi hi! i saw that u were asking for reqs and prompt 29 rlly had me thinking… imagine you’ve been there for 2 years and are the only girl, and you don’t socialize much, you do your part and keep to yourself so no one knows much abt you. but when thomas shows up, he continues to bug you with questions/bother you including why ur the only girl there. there’s a lot of tension and one night he wonders off in the woods he finds you and one thing leads to another and it happens..!

AHH okay this is sending me to hell bc my mind is going feral just thinking about it and I literally am so excited to write this one. And thank you so much for requesting one <333 (this is my first time writing smut so bear with me)

Idk how to tag these correctly bc I’ve never posted anything but if I’m wrong just correct me: p in v, slight fingering, praising, degrading, dirty talk, mentions of edging, mentions of getting caught, choking kink, slight size kink, slight/moderate pain kink, oral sex!f receiving, a few uses of y/n, nicknames, 2nd person pov. Majorly unedited and not proofread (grammarly told me there were 149 errors but it’s 2:24 in the morning so grammarly can kindly fuck off. hopefully this is bearable to read.)

8238 words (what thee actual fuck)

29– Thomas

“Don’t muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I’m fucking you.”

The last few days were… something else. Like clockwork every month, another greenie arrived, but to you that just meant another person bugging the shit out of you until they got over it. What were you supposed to tell them? That you just felt like coming up into the maze and trapping yourself here for two years just because you were bored? Every single greenie, without fail, always pestered you like a small gnat swirling around your ear each day; “why are you the only girl? Why are you here? Is it hard being the only girl?” And of course the alarmingly obviously questions that crossed every new shank’s mind, but only few braved to ask.

You mostly managed to steer clear of the lewd obscenities, letting the few friends you made take care of it for you since it got to be an irritable subject for you very quickly. But, unfortunately, there were some that wanted to ask the girl herself. Some that didn’t even know your name, yet still approached you with a supercilious guise thinking that it would somehow win you over. Each time it made you wonder what they put in these new greenies before sending them up; they just kept getting worse and worse.

Majority of the gladers knew your name, but then again how could they not? Some knew it but just decided to call you whatever you wanted; as if you being a girl made you less human and more of an object. Those were the boys that could only dream of touching a girl, never mind even being able to hookup with one.

You were surprised by the amount of people that actually treated you as equal, even though it was the bare fucking minimum. Sometimes you found it ironic how Chuck—the youngest glader here—didn’t even think twice about your humanity status when half the so-called “men” in this place treated you like scut. The boy having stated many times that “you’re a human too, just like the rest of us. We each play our part and at the end of the day; work is work. It doesn’t matter how old you are or if you’re a guy or a girl.” You think one of the reasons you were such good friends with the boy was because he could easily relate to your struggles; him being the youngest glader and always treated like a baby who couldn’t comprehend the simplest things, and you being the only girl who’s treated like shit because apparently women can’t possibly be able to do the same things as men. You were both deeply misunderstood, and that served as a foundation for one of your closest relationships.

Of course the leader, Alby, had always said the same; you were to be treated as equal. He’d even brought up the fact that it was dispiriting that the matter was even a question at all. Some days were worse than others, only granting you the energy to will yourself out of the small hut Gally and few others helped you build, at the last possible second and skipping breakfast as you trudged your way over to the gardens, taking your place by Newt. From there, maybe you’d have an occasional conversation about the dirt that constantly flung into your eyes, automatically irritating both your sight and your mood, or maybe about how brutally the blazing sun treated your reddening shoulders and face.

But on those days—the bad ones—you kept silent, doing what you were told when you were told, taking part in the roles that made the glade work. Maybe you’d join the rest of the glade for supper, sitting with the very few people you called ‘friends’ but at the end of the table, hoping to avoid conversation that inevitably reeled you in. More often than not, bad days usually warranted you to take the meal to your hut after a quick ‘thanks’ to Frypan, then making the isolated trip to the comforting confines of your own space.

You tried keeping to yourself, afraid to get too close with anyone that wasn’t Chuck or Newt, but of course your name was brought up quite often. It never made sense, though; you rarely interacted with anyone, even the people you exchanged words with on occasion, not much was known about you. You even tried to avoid being seen as often as possible in hopes that your absence would somehow make the gladers forget about your existence.

Yet every month when a new greenie was sent up, terrified and questioning their entire existence, it also started a new uproar around your name. So with Thomas, it was no different. Well, almost no different.

After he showed up, he wasn’t subtle with his intentions like most were—always asking anyone he could about anything that might make you more 3-dimensional in his eyes. So when he saw you talking to Chuck and ruffling the young boy’s hair, he used their already-forming bond to his advantage.

“Hey, Chuck, who was that?” He pretended to be oblivious as if he hadn’t been staring at you all day every day, the way your hair was always tied back in a single low braid, how the small strands that were too short slipped from the crossed-pattern and framed your face, how your sun-kissed nose scrunched whenever some minor inconvenience passed your way or the way your head tilted ever-so-slightly as a way to show your confusion.

He was well aware that this most certainly happened with every new arrival; the pestering questions, the intrusive thoughts, yet he was infatuated with wanting to know absolutely everything he could.

“Who? Her?” Chuck followed the older boy’s gaze, quickly losing interest once he saw where it led.

Thomas’s gaze, however, didn’t falter. He couldn’t decide what part of you to focus on. Maybe the way you effortlessly carried buckets and buckets of whatever the hell was needed for gardening, but it looked heavy enough to make him stare in awe. He was shameless. “Yes her. Who is she?”

“A person.” Chuck answered, being frustratingly vague.

Thomas finally pulled his brown eyes from you, landing them on the smaller boy beside him. “What’s her name?”

“Why does it matter?” The young boy was all too familiar with the questions of each newbie, most greenies coming to Chuck for the same thing each month that became almost a routine to give out as little information as possible to protect his friend.

Thomas sighed, mentally rolling his eyes. “Because I wanna’ know.” He answered bluntly.

“You wouldn’t care what that guy’s name is,” Chuck pointed to a builder named Dan. “So why do you care what her name is?”

The greenie squinted his eyes, jaw clenched in slight irritation, the veins on his neck becoming more prominent than before. “Because I just want to know?”

“Y/N, her name is Y/N. There.” Chuck’s bitter tone was definitely a eye-opener, the boy usually sweet and happy to make new friends.

“Thanks.” Thomas managed to get a small thumbs up in return as Chuck walked further away, obviously done with their conversation.

. . .

The next few days left Thomas’s curiosity at a higher peak, even worse than when he first got here—before he knew about the girl. Luckily Chuck had told you each time the greenie asked another question, and you couldn’t express how grateful you were for the young boy since he never answered them.

However, despite Chuck’s anguished attempts at telling Thomas to leave you alone, the greenie pursued his interests in getting to know you more, although it was nearly inevitable that this would happen.

On this particular day, though, he couldn’t seem to find you. Much to his dismay, you were in the Deadheads, sitting by the small brook that always seemed to flow despite the enclosed glade. It was night, the sun long gone although the heat never seemed to leave. You liked the Deadheads, specifically the brook. It was quiet, nothing but the sounds of water trickling over small rocks and folding in on itself, and maybe the occasional leaf falling to the forest floor. The peaceful sounds were a drastic difference to the clanking of shovels on rocks that seemed to peeve each gardener, or tools hammering wood that echoed across the entire open glade.

It was rare, but sometimes you’d accidentally fall asleep in the woods due to the calming nature, serving for an aching back and sore neck that shot pain thorough your whole body when you craned it the wrong way. It would’ve been one of those nights, except the sounds of leaves crunching and twigs snapping under someone’s foot brought you back from your half-asleep state. You sat up against the tree, your legs crossing as you looked around. The only people who knew you came out here were sure to be asleep by now, Chuck always falling asleep the second the second he laid down on his hammock, and Newt knowing you didn’t like to be bothered out here.

You thought back to when Ben had been stung and was chasing Thomas through the Deadheads, and you thought the same was about to happen to you. Grabbing a small stick by your side— that would probably snap if any pressure were applied— you stood up and looked around the dark forest. The plush foliage provided little to no light, which left your eyes desperately trying to adjust to the darkness as quickly as possible.

You held the stick out in front of you and slowly backed up, occasionally spinning around to check behind you, the stick swinging through the air like it was wielded by a maniac.

The lack of light confused your senses, and somehow you didn’t you didn’t hear the cracking and snapping of leave and twigs, or feet the heat behind you getting closer and closer until your back slammed into something that scared you so bad you almost yelped as you whipped around to threaten whoever it was with the flimsy stick that almost snapped when you turned. You were greeted with an unfamiliar face, one that wasn’t just another in the sixty something faces in the glade that you had yet to learn the name of. It was a new one.

“Shit— sorry.” He muttered quickly, large, outstretched hands already on your shoulders to steady you.

You back up slightly, hoping his grip would fall off, and it did. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The boy automatically took to fiddling with his fingers, a nervous habit you guessed. “I, uh… I was looking for you, actually. Chuck told me you might be out here.”

You squinted your eyes slightly, not believing him since Chuck knew better than to tell a random greenie where you’d most likely be during your free time. “Did he?”

The greenie struggled to come up with an excuse, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the ground.

“Or did you just watch me come out here earlier with the plans of following me, hoping I’d still be here after you were done with your job?” You added with a raised brow, a clear annoyed tone evident in your voice.

“Wel— No that’s not— I mean… well, you’re probably used to the newbies bothering you—”

“Damn right I am. And I don’t expect you to be any different, so unless you have anything important to say, then I’m just gonna leave.” You got straight to the point, not caring to sugarcoat or be nice to him since you’d tried that before with other greenies, and it usually didn’t turn out well. You dropped your stick and started to turn away from him when you heard his footsteps following you again, his voice following soon after.

“Well, no, but I just wanted to talk to you. I don’t know you v—”

“So let’s keep it that way, yeah?” You said, sounding as if you were talking to a child.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, a small habit of his. “Could you just stop cutting me off?”

“Why should I?” You said, brown raised in annoyance as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto one leg.

“Because I fucking asked? It shouldn’t be that hard to be nice to someone.”

You scoffed, his attitude impressing you since it almost matched yours perfectly. You eyed him before opening your mouth to speak. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be. So why’re you making it so difficult then?” You asked, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, your head tilted coyly.

He let out a quick sigh, jaw clenching in irritation. “Because, all I did was try and talk to you and you’re being a bitch about it.”

Your head jerked back slightly, your eyebrows automatically raised with a taunting smile of disbelief creeping up. “You just can’t help it with the foul language can you?” You said with a laugh, one that seemed to get on his nerves even more. It was almost impressive how irritable he was. “Maybe you should try talking to directly instead of bugging my friends—especially Chuck— about me. Y’know, like a conversation or something? Maybe start off with a small introduction like your name or something a little less hostile.”

“Fine, I’m—”

“I know who you are.” It wasn’t intentional but you realized that you had cut him off again. But instead of apologizing, you almost wanted to see how pissed he could get before stomping off.

He was definitely contemplating it, almost losing interest since your attitude made him want to smash his head against a rock, but his pure stubbornness was what kept him standing there. “Again with the cutting me off! Is that all you ever do? ‘S that why you don’t have any friends.”

Being the only girl in a glade full of boys made this seem like nothing compared what else you’ve heard, so his little insults and slight temper tantrum did nothing. “Well you said you wanted to talk to me, and I’m assuming you wanted to get to know me more since all you ever do is bother Chuck.” You said with a shrug. “Come on, you can do better than that, I know you can.”

Something about your tone, the way it was taunting him, teasing him in a way that he couldn’t tell if he should hate you or want to slam you against a tree and— he shook his head, seemingly getting rid of whatever was going through his mind. “Why, you want me to insult you? Treat you like a piece of shit like everyone else does?”

You didn’t respond. Rather, you just stood there, not bothering to move as he subtly took a few slow steps toward you.

“Or maybe it’s something else?” He said, head tilting in a certain way that allowed the small streaks of moonlight peering through the spaces above that weren’t covered by trees to illuminate the beginnings of smug look on his freckled face.

Of course you knew what he looked like, he was a gardener the first few days so you had the displeasure of working near him, but something about him being up close and the way the shadowy brightness of the moon cast a perfect gleam allowed you to really notice his features. You had to admit, he wasn’t a bad looking guy; short brown hair, a perfect nose that could make anyone jealous, pale skin littered with moles and freckles that didn’t seem to be on just his face, golden-brown eyes that looked darker than in the daylight, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the tree coverage or some other reason…

“I bet it’s something else, isn’t it?” His voice was what snapped you from your thoughts, your eyes focusing back in on his darkening gaze.

“Huh?” You said, your eyes practically in slits at this point. You couldn’t tell if your question was actually a question, or if it was because you’d already forgotten what he asked before.

He took a step closer, yet he wasn’t actually that close. It was simply the darkness of the Deadheads and the way your other senses tried to account for your poor vision that made it seem like he was towering over you.

Or maybe he was.

“I said, are you just always a bitch like this, or do you do it because you like the way people respond. The way they get irritated and go off on you or treat you like shit all for you to complain about it afterwards.” You almost couldn’t believe his words. But what was less believable was the feeling that resonated in the pit of your stomach. One that had you thinking things you shouldn’t be.

“What? What the hell is wrong with you?” You spat out, trying to act offended.

His smirk grew, telling you that you reacted exactly how he expected. “You didn’t answer my question.” He took another step forward.

“I don’t have to.” You stepped back.

He noticed your slight step back, he also noticed the tree behind you—he same one you’d almost fallen asleep against earlier—getting closer each time. “I think it’s only fair that you do, so, go ahead. Answer it.”

Now, there were two ways you could’ve answered this. Which one did you choose? The one you knew would get the better reaction, of course. “Make me.”

One step later, you were already back up against the tree, seemingly nowhere to go (you could easily step to the side), and Thomas right in front of you, head tilted downwards to look at you because of the height difference. “I don’t think you really want me to. You’re just saying that.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.” You whispered lazily, a small gleam in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He brown ones bored into yours, an almost-mischievous glint behind them. He leaned down, his mouth inches from your ear, his hand against the tree on the other side of your head. “Maybe I will.”

You couldn’t help the way your knees felt weak, something about his voice; the raspiness embedded in his low, deep tone. “Maybe you should.” You breathed out, watching him pull back, his eyes flicking between your eyes and somewhere else.

His other hand slid around your waist, large palm being a source of heat as if the night air wasn’t already warm enough. It was torturous, the way his lips ghosted around your skin, every area he passed felt empty after the heat of his presence left, the way you felt his breath brush her face when he laughed at his own teasing actions.

His hand slid around to your lower back, pulling it forward in an arch as your upper back stayed against the tree. Thomas looked down at you, the very tip of his nose so close to yours that the heat radiating from him felt like he was actually touching you. You bit the inside of your cheek, never good with the whole ‘patience’ thing.

Thomas, on the other hand, could’ve dragged this out all night. But when he met your gaze, the look in your eye let the thought slip from his mind. It was when you whispered some words that didn’t quite stick in his brain against his lips, that’s what got to him. He bent down and connected your lips, the kiss wasn’t a slow, savoring-every-moment type of kiss. It was a hungry, sloppy, impatient kiss that made it seem like he was devouring you.

It was needy and heated, more teeth-clashing and tongue-tangling than anything. His lips were chapped and rough, but then again so we’re yours after two years in the glade.

His lips trailed down your cheek, then your jaw, then right under your jawline, nipping at the surprisingly soft skin. His lips followed your jawline until they were right under your ear, finding a sweet spot you didn’t even know you had.

You breathed out softly, biting the inside of your cheek as your head tilted backwards, hitting the bumpy bark of the tree. To your left was his outstretched arm that he used to hold himself up against a the tree, and to your right was his head, slightly buried in the crook of your neck as he peppered the spot with little nips as kisses. He freehand—the one that was on your lower back—slipped down to the curve of your ass, squeezing all around the plump skin.

“How’s this for getting to know you?” He breathed against your skin.

You bit your lip, just a little, but enough that his scrutinizing gaze caught it. “I think you, uh, you should get to know me just a little better, y’know?” You said, a small lump in the back of your throat that wouldn’t go down.

“Hmm, think I should, huh?” He teased.

“Mhm, yeah… y-you should.” You nodded, teeth gliding over your own bottom lip as you tugged his hair gently so he’d look up at you.

The heel of Thomas’s palm dug into your ass, prompting you to jump up a little. To jump right into his arms. Your thigh hitched up on his waist, his hand gliding from your ass to under your leg, finger tips reach the the inside of your thigh. Your other foot steady on the ground— well, would’ve been steady if you hadn’t stepped on a tree stump. Your footing faltered, twisting your ankle in the process and you pulled from the recently rekindled kiss to wince.

He chuckled and lifted up your other thigh, practically holding you up until you got the hint to wrap your legs around his waist. Your back was pressed into the tree, bare shoulders are partially-bare upper back collecting scratches and green moss smudges.

Thomas didn’t waste anymore time, the fingers of his free hand already sliding down your torso and half under the waistband of your jeans. He only stopped for a brief moment, looking up at you as you nodded back—maybe a little too eagerly.

He didn’t even bother to unbutton them or unzip them for the time being, his fingers twitching with the thought of touching you in mind. While he was just as impatient as you, he still managed to find the will in him to tease you. Two of his veiny fingers swipes over your panties, starting at the beginning of your wetness and dragging them all the way up to your cloth-covered clit. You couldn’t deny nor hide it anymore, you were soaked—rather, your panties were.

“Damn, this all for me? Guess you liked the idea of me proving you wrong, huh?” He taunted.

Your eyes bore into his like you wanted to say something snarky, but you literally could not lie. He felt it. He felt what he did to you. He knew the slight power he had over you—although you were sure he didn’t quite know just how much power he possessed.

Reluctantly, you tenaciously nodded up at him, just a very slight head movement that you hoped he’d miss, but of course he didn’t. You were grateful he didn’t respond, with words anyway, but you could see see the glint in his eye that made you want to kick him, slap him, anything you could to get your point across. But he made you weak in the knees, figuratively and literally since one of his hands was under your ass holding you up, your legs raveled around his waist and connected at his lower back.

At first, when you felt his hand leave your ass, you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed by the loss of touch, or to expect your body to hit the ground. But it didn’t. He had you pinned against the tree, your legs already locked tightly around him, your arms slung around his neck.

His, now free, hand glides around to the front of your thigh, up your stomach (it would’ve gone under your shirt if he didn’t have other plans), over your tank top-covered breasts, fingers stopping momentarily to knead the dough-y flesh, and making their final stop around your throat just below your jaw—palm pressing against your airway loosely, pointer and thumb fingers settling below your ears on either side of your head.

The fingers caressing your sopping panties also became more active; drawing slow lines up and down.

“T-Thomas,” you stuttered, not because he hand was that tight, but simply because it was tight enough to warrant a gasp present in your words. “Don’t tease me.”

You were really in no position to be the one saying commands, but it was the sheer stubborn-confidence that impressed him enough to consider the choked out words. “As you wish.” He spoke, slipping two fingers past your panties, the material bunching to the side, and right into you without any warning. Well, to be fair he did give you a warning, just no time to process before you felt his long, slender fingers gliding against your walls.

“Fuck— Thomas.” You breathed out, your tone a little whiny. You were almost embarrassed at how easily you gave in, how easily you let him get you this way.

He gave your throat one last little squeeze and dropped his hand down to one of the straps on your tank top. He was considering sliding it under your shirt, but then he’d have to go through more trouble to get it off seeing as you were leaned against a tree. So, Thomas decided to take what he knew you’d give, and he tugged at the straps.

You knew your standards were low when consent made your heart swoon, feeling the nervous hot-and-cold sweats rack your body. But being the only girl in the glade, you were glad someone other than your friends was showing you respect…ish.

After seeing your nod, he slid the strap down and you pulled your arm back and through the thing fabric piece, the same was done on the other side. Thomas’s fingers were barely moving, too slow even for his teasing pace, but his brain had a little more focus on what he was trying to do with one hand.

A few seconds later, and you were gasping at the sudden coldness you felt against your pert nipples. It was an odd sensation, the glade was always hot yet when your bare chest was exposed, the air felt cool.

The chilled breeze caused the buds to instantly harden, making something of Thomas’s harden as well. “Shit, angel, no bra?”

You hadn’t worn a bra since today was one of those days— the ones with low energy, restless sleep barely giving you enough stamina to will yourself throughout the day. “No…” you admitted, almost shamefully.

Before you could even think, lips were wrapped around the sensitive buds, a tongue flat as it pressed over the top. You let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a small moan, finger tangling in his hair automatically.

Thomas simply couldn’t leave your other side untreated, so he rolled your other nipple between his fingers while fucking you with the other hand. Every sound you made, whether it be a sigh, a moan, a whimper, a small whine of his name, each and every one of them seemed to be egging him on more. Like small pleas and begs for more of his touch.

And whether you knew it or not, that exactly what they were; your body whining, aching for anything he’d give you, grateful for the plainest stroke of his digits in your wet cunt, or the effortless drag of his smooth tongue across your pebbled nipple.

Somewhere between small praises and straight-up degradation, you manages you end up without any clothes and Thomas’s pretty face between your legs as you stand there against the tree; teeth clenched, thighs trembling, fingers scratching at his scalp leaving a stinging sensation in their wake. It felt good— the burn of your jagged nails against his already sensitive scalp, the sun un-ironically taking part in making sure it would hurt him.

The tree bark dug into your bare back as you simultaneously pushed yourself up on your tip-toes, squirming at the sensation of his tongue on your clit becoming too much, yet tugging his face further between your wobbly thighs with the grip you had on his brown hair.

Thomas decided he liked you best when you were like this; a sweaty, moaning, whimpering, indecisive mess for him— despite only speaking his first words to you less than an hour ago.

And quite frankly, you couldn’t care less. The only thing spurring you on, giving you the shamelessness needed to give yourself up like this was the undying need to cum. He had be fucking edging you this whole damn time, yet you couldn’t complain. Not while he was pleasuring you at least. Your protests came after you didn’t—after the way he’d suck on and swirl his tongue around your swollen bud, getting you right there, only to pull away as you were about to topple over the edge.

It might not have been verbal, but maybe you’d give his hair a particularly harsh yank, or dig your nails into his raw scalp with as much strength as you could muster. Unbeknownst to you, Thomas enjoyed it. He loved the way you whined and squirmed, body begging for a release even if your mouth was too stubborn to communicate it. He loved the pain you inflicted on him, the pricking sensation hurting so bad—yet not enough—that it felt good.

“Did I get you to change your mind yet, Angel?” Thomas spoke against your cunt, lips glistening with you juices, eyes dark as he looked up at you with a captivating stare that you fell prisoner to time and time again.

You bit down on your lip brutally, the discomfort not even phasing you anymore. You were sure your lips would be bruised and possibly bloodied in the morning for more than one reason. “Thomas… please,” There it was. The first real plead that spilled from your lips. Not the desperate whines or frustrated grunts you’d given him earlier, but an actual word that put your need on full display.

And it sounded better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“What’s wrong, princess? Am I not good enough for you?” He cooed, tone mocking your desire so damn condescendingly that if it were anyone else you’d send their skull flying against the maze walls.

But you couldn’t resist, he had you under his spell, wrapped around his finger. And you knew it. You both knew it. “Fuck me, make me cum… just do something for fucks sake!” Your voice held a guise of irritation and rage, but just behind that was the exact whininess that he was looking for.

“I think I like the sound of you begging for me. It’s pretty.” He whispered, whether to himself or you, you couldn’t find it in you to give a fuck anymore.

Thomas stood up, large hands sliding up the sides of your bare body, soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. A whimper slipped from your swollen lips, the feeling of his hands setting your body ablaze, leaving goosebumps only the chilly day’s managed to give you in their wake. You felt like you were sweating buckets, yet the warmth radiating off his wide hands (or maybe you were just small) left the rest of your figure feeling frigid.

His lips wet lips met yours, hand meeting your throat as you gasped lightly at the taste of yourself on his tongue as he poked and prodded at your own. You didn’t even have to think about how easily you let him in, you blatantly followed his command no matter what form in came in without a second thought.

Fingers feeling needy, you reached for his belt and he slotted his knee between your thighs, pinning you against the tree for the umpteenth time tonight. However, you didn’t hear a protest or receive a firm look coded with a not-so-hidden message, so you proceeded with your actions, fingers fumbling with the flimsy metal piece until you hear the telltale clanking sound of his belt slithering through the denim loops and clashing against the dirt floor.

His jeans dropped next, nothing to hold them up or keep them in their place as you unzipped them. His shirt had been discarded earlier, just before he got to his knees in front of you, so it was one less article of clothing in your way.

But that didn’t matter, the only one you care about was still on him. Dainty fingers lightly brushed over his bulge, your eyes dropping for just a second to catch a glimpse of his clothed size before you had to tilt your head back up due to the hand holding your throat. It was dark, but your eyes were well adjusted by now; well enough to see the tent his erection formed as you unintentionally teased him.

Your hands were impatient, your whole being was impatient, but you could at least do something about the need to have your hands around him. After practically grabbing his hard-on through his boxers, palming it roughly for just a second, you didn’t even wait to get your hands inside his boxers. Immediately, you tugged your hand up his length, his impressively long length. He groaned, cock already throbbing, twitching at the thought of being buried inside you.

The noise almost took you by surprise, and you were almost proud of yourself for being the cause. You brought your left knee up his thigh, situating it comfortably in the groove of his hip, and pushed down the remaining fabric. His free hand assisted you and helped slide the other end down until he kicked away the item that he’d be searching for in the darkness later.

Digits finding his hardness again as you continued to make out, your thumb carelessly swiped over his slit as you handled his tip, collecting the bead of precum that had you wetter than the brook you were settled by during previous hours. He felt the heat of your fingers disappear, only to return moments later with arousal that couldn’t’ e been just his.

You coated his shaft with your sticky mixture, eliciting a deep groan from the back of Thomas’s throat. Regardless of you having the last few touches that made gave other pleasure, he still wanted to remind you who was really in control.

His fingers tightened around the column of your throat, his body pressing you into the tree even more, hard enough for you to feel each ridge of wood jabbing into your back. You felt his knee pushing up against your cunt, your slick automatically coating his thigh as you couldn’t help but grind yourself against him. He smirked—you didn’t see—, your actions appearing needy, so much so, that they were almost pathetic.

“It’s hot as fuck knowing I made you this wet, that I got you to the point where you don’t give a fuck about how pathetic you seem, the only thought in your brain is the desire for pleasure. For me to fuck you, huh?” His words were spat with hot breath waving against your cheek, it was hard not to give in and accept his words.

“Please, Tommy… need you inside me,” until the words came out, you weren’t aware of how shameless they’d be, of how much you sounded exactly like he described. “‘nd I know you do too.” you added shortly after in an attempt to recollect some of your dignity. Didn’t work. He saw right through you.

But what did work what the whine you put on his name, the one that few called him, but only you could have him contemplating between fucking you like a normal person, or fucking you for so long and hard that neither of you could walk straight or have any cum left to give. Obviously there was only one choice in his eyes, but you couldn’t see it. You could only see blown pupils, so wide that just a sliver of brown, lust-tainted color rimmed the pitch-black darkness.

You resumed the position you were in earlier; legs squeezed tight around his waist as if your life depended on it, ankles locked in the back, heels digging into his spine a few inches above his tailbone. Your arms wrapped around the nape of his neck, while his hand was settled at the base of yours.

Striving to be a tease, Thomas watched your reactions while he rubbed his tip up and down your wetness, starting from your hole, up to the top of your clit, then back down. Something about the moves, so calculated, so precious, so damn taunting that it almost seemed like he was mocking you, it was all becoming too much. He had been edging you all night—well, enough to to feel like it was all night—that you knew he was nearing the end of his limits as well.

Impatient by nature, Thomas merely gave your throat a warning squeeze before he slipped his tip inside. He may have been ruthless with his teasing, yes, but he wasn’t heartless. He waited, kept his hips still against his own will until you nodded or squeezed his hair each time you wanted him to push in just a smidge further. He praised and affirmed you with words you didn’t even process since the only thing your mind could focus on was the contrast of pleasure with a little bit of sting. You wanted nothing more for him to be fully sheathed inside you, fucking your stupid—and so did he—, but you decided it best for you to take it slow. At first.

Once his hips were flush with yours, hard cock filling you in ways you didn’t even know existed, you adjusted your legs around his waist, shifting until the discomfort went away mostly. You didn’t even nod or give and indignation before you bucked your hips against his, causing a sigh to fall from his pink, kiss-bitten lips, while a light moan fell from yours. He took that as his sign you were ready, and he slowly pulled his hips from yours with a semi-gentle test thrust first before he saw you were okay, then he picked up his pace in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so tight.” He groaned against your neck, hot breath symbolizing a warning before his lips were all over the soft skin.

You whimpered, your hands automatically lacing in his hair and tugging at the roots, nails occasionally scratching at his scalp. You don’t know how long your hand stayed like that before realizing you needed something better to grasp, to hold on and cling to like your fate was dependent on it.

One are tucked under his, the other following suit, and soon both hands were clawing down his back, the feeling prompting Thomas to pound away harder. Teeth against your neck let you know that you’d have to wear your hair down for the next few days, and possibly skip meals at the homestead to avoid being seen as well. Even so, you didn’t care right now. You were to wrapped up in the way his fucked into you, mercilessly pounding away at you pussy, the wet squelching sounds coming from where the two of you were connected absolutely sinful.

You knew the gladers had gone to sleep however long ago, but you also knew that a few had a hard time sleeping. Thank god Chuck had knocked out before you came out here.

The threat of getting caught is what caused you to bury your face in his shoulder, head leaning against his outstretched arm that was holding the tree for support. You nips and suck at the skin of his collarbone right where it connects to his shoulder, albeit much weaker and definitely less effort put in than him, but it gives you something to do, along with practically gouging your uneven nails down his sweaty back, to keep your mind off the seething moans that threaten to rip from your throat.

After awhile of hearing you go silent and feeling the pressure of both your lips and fingers on his skin increase, Thomas grows annoyed with your lack of sound. You feel his hand leave your throat, but you don’t exactly process it, your brain overwhelmed with too many things to worry about the loss of touch, but you do feel where it ends up. Your head is abruptly yanked back, yet somehow as gently as possible although is still leaves a pained sensation. Thomas’s fingers were in between the weaves of your—now very loose and incredibly messy—braid, forcing you to look at him as he fucks you. He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

“Don't muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I'm fucking you.” Without a barrier to block your noises, you let out a moan at his words alone. And then everything comes crashing down. You give up on trying to quiet yourself, only having enough left in you to chase that feeling that leaves you whining incoherent words that maybe he understands, digging and clawing at any available surface you can get you dainty little fingers on (which is most likely his back or shoulder), and letting yourself go completely—letting him take care of you.

And boy does he know how to take care of you. For someone you’ve never spoken a word to until tonight, he knows how to fuck you right. He knows how to have you in his arms, body practically limp and a deadweight which only impales you more on his dick. And when he hears that you’ve given in to more than just his one request by letting your jaw fall slack, any moans or whimpers just free to waltz out, he leans in close to whisper in your ear, voice deep and slightly raspy; “Good girl.”

He feels the way your fingernails grips his shoulders harder, possibly hard enough to draw blood, and the way your already-tight walls clench around him even more. Something in his mind clicks for him that doesn’t for you, probably because your too busy with the way he fills you up so damn well his tip kisses your cervix each time you come back down on him and he fucks back up.

“You like being called a good girl, huh? You like being told how good you feel around me, being praised for doing what I say like the good girl you are?” He knows what he’s doing at this point. But that was stop you from enjoying it nonetheless.

“F—yeah, fuck, I do.” You agree with what little sanity to have left, mustering a nod that almost spends every ounce of energy.

Your eyes have him in a trance; watery, pupils blown, looking up at him with the most innocent looking eyes he could ever think of. Except he knew you weren’t innocent.

“I bet no one else fucks you like this, huh, angel? No one else gives you princess treatment because they’re too busy trying to find a way to get in your panties to even think about treating you right. But a part of you likes it, don’t you?” You merely whined, words failing you as he smirked and kept going. “You like the fact that half the guys here probably jerk off to the thought of you when they’re alone, think of you as some little slut that everyone gets a turn with in their minds. The glade’s own whore, hmm?”

“F-Fuck, Thomas,” you whimper, the feeling his words give you turning into physical pleasure, not just for yourself, but for Thomas as well when he feels your warm walls squeezing around his shaft.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it; just whoring out and fucking every guy in this place? But your so damn innocent—too damn innocent, it’s why half the guys here can’t seem to get their mind off you.” He grunts between thrusts, as if his hips slamming into yours punctuates each word. “Don’t worry, after tonight I think enough people around here will have learned who got to fuck you. I’ll treat you right, princess.”

Both hands clenched at whatever they can, and Thomas feels the crescent-shaped nail marks already imbedding themselves in his shoulder and nose of his neck.

You were getting undeniably closer, and you were afraid that he might edge you again. Hell, you were afraid that you let him have that much power over you. In spite of your efforts, your own voice adding to the ringing in your ears as you bucked your hips downwards— if even possible with the force he had you pressed against the tree with. “Don’t stop… please, please don’t stop, Tommy.” You begged, pathetically desperate for him to finally let you release.

“Only if you keep making those pretty little sounds, angel.” And you did; effortlessly obeying his commands, when in reality it was inevitable that your sounds escaped at some point. You just didn’t hold back at all. At least you didn’t talk to very many people, otherwise they would’ve been suspicious of your barely-there voice if the hadn’t already heard you screaming the night before.

His thrusts became irregular, and at first you thought he was going to tell you that you didn’t do well enough for him, seize yet another orgasm from you like he had been doing all night. What you didn’t realize was that he was slowing down to edge himself, not wanting to cum to early or before you did.

Thomas decided you wouldn’t mind a few scratches on your back, maybe a few splinters, ‘cause it sure as hell looked like you wouldn’t give a damn right now, so he took his supporting hand off the tree and encased it around your throat, admiring the way his hand seemed to swallow you whole. His free hand fled to your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bud as you cried out his name. It was mindless, you hadn’t even realized it. That’s what made it so fucking hot.

Time and time again, you continued to impress him with how easily you could be controlled, completely fucked out to the point you only knew his name and the word ‘please’. “Atta girl. That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking you like this.” You whimpered his name again, the word simply rolling off your tongue without a thought. He wasn’t even sure if you said it because you followed orders so well, or if it was really the only thing you could say.

“T-Thomas, shit—fuck, I’m g—” your sentence was left unfinished since you couldn’t breathe, your lungs on fire just like the rest of your skin. It could’ve been from the way Thomas’s hand was unconsciously restricting your airway a little too much, though, once he noticed he eased up. Either way, he got your message loud and clear. And he could feel his own release brewing in the pit of his stomach.

“Please… please don’t stop this time. I-I can’t take it anymore… need to cum.” You whined between shallow breaths before he could even speak.

His pace and force picked up to almost inhuman speeds, basically fucking you into the tree behind you. “I won’t, I promise.”

As if the words didn’t register, mindless pleas were pouring from you, “I have to—’m so close, Tommy, please.”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too, alright? So your gonna be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” It wasn’t until his thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves he was previously circling, did his words finally sink in.

Along with his gentle demand came your orgasm that you didn’t know had been so close the whole time. Your walls enveloped him so tight he was sure his dick would slip out, but it didn’t. It stayed inside your warm, velvety wetness, twitching but thrusting sloppily throughout your high as his neared.

You were seeing stars, and you were pretty sure they weren’t the ones in the night sky above you. Your nails dug so harshly into his chest and back that your fingers aches, and you could only imagine the number you’d done on him. The feeling was euphoric, sure you’d never come down from the drunken-high feeling. Your thighs shook, muscles spasming as your nerves felt like they were frying at the slight overstimulation he was giving you.

Feeling you cum around him, his cock twitched inside you, soon giving into the demands of your velvety warmth and wet squelching sounds. “Fuck, shit—such a good girl, angel… such a good fucking girl for me.” He moaned out, his voice the softest it’d been yet, but still somehow possessing the same roughness as before.

You felt a hot-warmth gush inside you, your face already buried deep in his shoulder again as you physically could not keep your head up. “Just for you.” You whimpered, enjoying the feeling of being completely filled to the brim, his hand coming off your throat to slide around the back of your neck in a somewhat-comforting hold. The feeling of being taken care of.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Like a siren's call

pairing: beomgyu x vampire reader

summary: your voice is sultry, smooth in the kind of way only a vampire’s is. like a siren calling to the sailor. but you’re not completely sure who the siren is at this point,

OR beomgyu goes to a vampire bar in hopes of fulfilling his depraved fantasies

warnings: dom reader, sub beomgyu, biting, blood drinking (it is vampire so what do you expect?), handjob, exhibitionism, reader calls gyu 'little lamb', fingering (m receiving), crying, kissing with blood in mouth (?), gyu in a skirt, possibly more i forgot

word count: 7k

a/n: this is a repost because i posted it for the first time while i was shadowbanned and i'm hoping that it does better this time. it's from the teaser here, there are a few tiny little changes from the beginning but nothing major.

He sits alone at the bar. You can only speculate why, with his pretty face and his pretty body it was a wonder he wasn't responding to the hungry eyes eating him up; including your own, unfortunately.

He seems bored, disinterested as he swirls the liquid around in his glass mindlessly.

Too bad, really. You could really bring some life (heh) to his night if he let you. You'd gladly take on the challenge. He was exactly the reason you’d come here tonight.

For him. For his type.

Nothing piqued your interest like the way he held himself. How he looked innocent and pure in an alluring kind of way despite his appearance, which spoke quite the opposite. His features feminine and gentle in a way that drove you wild.

He caught the eye immediately with glittery makeup that shimmered in the strobing lights of the club; drawing in the attention of passersbys like a siren, eyes stuck on him for the brief moment before they continued on with their night.

With the way plenty had looked at him you were surprised that no one had approached him yet. You were even more surprised that you hadn’t gotten up already. 

Something inside of you told you to wait though, told you to play a little with him, make him work for it. Something you couldn’t quite place screamed that he often got what he wanted-and you had never one to play with your meal but just maybe once it would be a bit of fun.

With a little bit a vivid imagination and a special something you'd told the bartender to slip into your drink you could practically see it. How much more gorgeous he would look when he begged, with tears in his eyes too, cheeks flushed.

Tongue swiping over your teeth, you wonder if he's here for what you assume he is. To fulfill the reason that you came here tonight...or if your fangs would send him running in the opposite direction.

Who were you kidding though?

He's obviously here for a reason and with the way he's only leisurely sipping the drink in his hand you doubt it's only for that. You hope it's not only for that.

Crazy hot and seductive as shit, hopefully by choice, all you've been wanting all night was for him to look at you. He hasn't though and you're beginning to wonder if you should cut your losses and call it a night.

It's not common for you to be this...infatuated with a human but there's something different about him, something special that you can't shake.

And you only realize that your stare is so obvious, so shameless when he can feel it from across the bar, looking up so his eyes catch on your own.

He stiffens in his seat, looking startled but certainly not uncomfortable by any means. Flickering from your eyes to your mouth and then down to the rest of you, he takes it all in with another sip.

And ever so slowly you allow yourself to do the same, for probably the millionth time tonight already. Gaze dragging over the length his body, appreciating every little thing as they trail lower and lower.

He’s gorgeous, for a human and for a vampire as well; he clearly relishes in knowing the fact, with little details that only accentuate it.

A choker that sits snug against the smooth skin of his throat. One of the cute pink ones with the little metal heart placed in the front. Pale, unmarked skin moving beneath it, throat bobbing as he takes chugs down the rest of his drink and calls for another. Skin that's practically begging to be claimed.

By you? Well, only if the pretty thing would let you.

Really, it's more of a question of what you wouldn't do to him if he would let you.

The barely noticeable detail on the short skirt he’s wearing stands out to you. It's definitely not the length of it that calls your attention to it. The thing nearly short enough to be called scandalous but just breaks as passing with society’s expectations. 

And lastly, but very certainly not in the least when it comes to this human, the knee-high boots make up for the length of his skirt as well as the thigh highs he’s clearly wearing underneath, little frills peeking out from where they end. Almost obsessively, your eyes rake down the delicious sliver of thigh that they reveal. 

He focuses back at you now, looking like he expects for you to look ashamed at being caught, after all, you were boring holes into him.

But to his surprise, you don’t. You hold steady and continue your unabashed stare.

He flushes, as pretty as the rest of him, face downturned to the bar, hair falling just so.

He tugs a lip between his lips, perhaps unconsciously or maybe not. The mischievous twinkle in his eye argues for the latter.

You’d never excelled at understanding human emotions, much less read them off a pretty human boy’s face.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

—

Your eyes. The deep shade of crimson they take on. The exact colour of blood. The exact colour of the essence that runs just beneath his skin.

They should really scare him more than anything.

They should make his skin crawl and make him feel the urge to run for the hills. Away from you. Away from everything that you could do to him if you wanted to. 

The things that he wants you to do to him. But that's really not the point.

That's the first thing Beomgyu notices.

The way they bore into him, the crimson darkening by several shades to an entirely new kind of red. His skin crawls, invisible bugs scurrying over his body. Heat swells, filling him up to the brim-did they turn the heat up in here? They had to have turned the heat up.

Goosebumps break across the exposed skin of his thigh, a shiver runs up his spine, zinging him but not for the reasons they should.

You look away all too soon, shifting your focus to the bartender in front of you, leaving Beomgyu feeling weirdly cold once again.

He was kind of hoping you’d approach him. Sure, he could approach you, he would’ve but he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was more prey than hunter. After all, why else would he be here?

You’re gorgeous, all skin and grace, seductive while you playfully roll your eyes at the man in front of you. Your lips curl up into a smile and there they are. 

Your fangs. Perfect ivory and considerably long, he could only imagine how deep they would bury inside his skin. How good they would feel-how good he’d heard they’d feel at least. 

Beomgyu wondered how it would feel, how much it would hurt before everything else would take over, he wasn’t particularly against pain so that wasn’t much issue. He wondered how your lips would taste, how he’d taste to you.

Human blood tasted and smelt different to every vampire, some more desirable, some less. He hoped you found him desirable, and with the way you’d looked at him, dark and intense and hungry.

The amber liquid in his glass burns down his throat but makes his body feel all the less tense, all the more free. This was his second and last drink of the night. He’d heard it was better to stay mostly sober for these kinds of things. There was no saying what someone’s intentions could be and he didn’t want to turn up dead in the alley next door tomorrow. 

Besides, even if this was his second day coming here and still, he hadn't been approached, his hopes of something happening tonight weren’t completely squashed yet.

Not with the way he could feel your eyes on him again, not subtle in the least, shameless in a way that drove him a touch insane.

His thighs rub together, trying to quell the heat lighting between them. Welcoming and also trying to reject the thought of how you would look at him, just like that, in a different kind of setting.

Beomgyu has no idea how, but you seem to notice the imperceptible movement, eyes flickering down to watch as your tongue peeks out to wet your lips.

He sits up straighter, flustered by the look, looking away and hoping you don't somehow notice the blush flooding his face. Using the opportunity to survey the busy venue. 

It was definitely one of the more popular blood bars in the city, one of the better funded ones and the patrons only proved it. Humans and vampires alike dressed lavishly, screaming of an old kind of wealth. Showy-offy in a way that begged the eye not to look away. 

The people here were certainly well off and that was obvious. Practically dripping in jewels and riches, many scantily clad and wearing nearly nothing at all, yet still looking expensive. 

He was glad that he’d gone with his gut to overdo instead of underdo. His roommate had frowned when he saw Beomgyu leaving the apartment, asking him if that was really what he was wearing.

Beomgyu had never taken much mind to being slut-shamed, if anything that meant that the skirt was just the right length but these words almost made him turn back to his room and change into something more 'suitable'.

He's glad he didn't. He fits in more like this and the outfit, as well as the makeup certainly garnered its fair-share of wanted attention.

“Can I get you anything?”

The bartender was a tall man, lithe and nearly able to pass as a human before his winning customer service smile revealed the fangs hidden just beneath his lips.

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

The man-vampire followed Beomgyu's line of sight, settling on you. "Is there anything else I can get you? Perhaps a name or a number?"

Beomgyu looked back at him, slightly horrified at the thought. "No!" he cleared his throat in an attempt to cover the outburst. "Uh-no, no, that's okay. I'm good, really."

He smiled politely and the bartender nodded, "Okay then just call me over then if you need anything else."

His eyes were back on you the second he was gone. But you haven't looked back yet, instead talking with the other bartender across.

Beomgyu can’t help but find himself slightly disappointed.

His friend Yeonjun had recommended he come to this place. Technically Yeonjun’s partner had. 

He had been pleasantly surprised to find that Yeonjun was dating someone when he saw him after all these years. He was even more shocked to find out that he was dating a vampire. He was never that close to Yeonjun but his mom was friends with Beomgyu’s and he certainly remembered his immense fear of vampires from then.

People could change though of course and Beomgyu was never one to judge especially on the topic, he wondered but didn't care enough to ask.

The only real reason that they had rekindled was because Beomgyu had just moved to the area and Yeonjun needed someone else to pay the rent. On those terms an easy arrangement was made.

He quickly moved in with the two of them. It wasn’t the best situation that he could find himself in but certainly wasn’t a bad one. 

Their apartment was small to have three people living in it and the walls were much too thin for the activities that his two roommates engaged in (Yeonjun really was too loud for his own good) but otherwise they were okay roommates and showed him around the city like his own personal tourguides. 

Either way, Beomgyu started his search to get out of there pretty quickly. He did like Yeonjun, despite the fact that he's a little bit too uptight and a little bit too overbearing, he found his partner to be quite interesting.

They were the one to tell him about this place, an exclusively night bar where they worked. It was supposed to be quiet and relatively safe compared to some of the other places like this in the city, partially because of the rich patrons. 

It was one of the clubs for vampires who wanted to feed and humans that wanted to be fed from and Beomgyu couldn’t help the way his interest was piqued. 

He’d always had a weird obsession with their kind. It was an embarrassing subject for him. He’d grown up in a small town where the topic was taboo at least, and being shunned from the community at worst. The idea of engaging with vampires was worse than watching porn or going to the strip club, more like the type of thing that parents would kick their children for thinking about. 

It was one of the reasons he was so surprised that Yeonjun had decided to date one.

In the bigger cities though, like this one, vampires were more common and people were less afraid. There was less stigma to stereotypes and misconceptions than the small towns had.

But it was odd that so quickly his perception had changed. He’d thought he’d gotten over it a long time ago, thought that it had been quelled ever since that documentary in school about "The Truth About Vampires-Parasites! Soulless bloodsuckers!". It scared the shit out of him and from then on he vowed that he wouldn't be caught dead searching up vampire porn on his laptop ever again.

Until he got here. Beomgyu couldn’t help the way his body heated up when Yeonjun told him about how it felt to be drunk from. How it felt down from the little prick of pain when their fangs entered the skin to how intoxicating, how high-inducing and euphoric it felt.

It led to the fantasy reappearing in his dreams the next night and a very tense silence between the him and Yeonjun the next day as they nursed terrible hangovers. Where Yeonjun had his partner to take care of him afterwards though, as Beomgyu heard through the too thin walls later that night, all Beomgyu had were his thoughts

Maybe he was a perv. A freak, or a degenerate. For taking up the offer from Yeonjun’s partner to be driven here. For coming here to fulfill his depraved fantasies he'd sworn off a long time ago. But seeing as there was this many other humans lounging around the room. Dancing and drinking and being fed from out in the open or being dragged to a back room, he could feel just a little bit normal.

If tonight didn’t work out either, he wouldn’t mind coming here another night to try again. Though he could only hope that he’d see you tomorrow.

He didn’t know what it was, but something about you he couldn’t quite shake, he couldn’t quite-he looked up again to see you gone. The space where you sat empty.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you look a little lonely.”

His attention snaps up in an instant.

His head reels as he registers the red eyes looking down at him, the way that you seemed to be bemused at his speechlessness.

“Um, I-“ 

You seem to have nothing but amusement toward his reaction. Unfazed as you gesture towards the stool next to him. “Is this seat taken?”

“Yes.” you look almost shocked as he says the word, disappointed in a way that makes him think that the infatuation was mutual. “By you.” Beomgyu isn’t quite sure where he gets the confidence to say that but the words come either way.

And they’re almost enough to make you laugh, but not quite. You take a seat, angling your body towards his.

The silence is brief, a few seconds of you surveying him once again but this time a bit closer, a bit more intimate as you reach for the frills on the hem of his thigh-highs, playing with it as he tries his best not to flinch.

Instead of emanating any kind of body heat it’s cold, like a chill coming out of your skin that feels good against in the humid stuffy air of this place.

“So, what’re you here for?”

The question has an easy answer, and that is to get fucked up, not necessarily sex, but he’s heard that a vampire drinking from someone feels like something akin to an orgasm only better than that. He can’t say that though, it’s crude and though he has no trouble being labelled a slut, he doesn’t want you to think that he’d open his legs for anything with fangs.

So instead, “Eh, a new crowd I guess.”

Not entirely a lie, it was a change of scenery, but then again everything about the city was.

Here vampires were allowed to walk free instead of being run out of the town and humans weren’t ostracized for befriending or even getting romantically involved with one.

His parents would disown him if they even knew he was here tonight.

“Meet some new people, see some of the things I wouldn’t see at home.”

The way you look at him is skeptical. You obviously don’t believe the shit coming out of his mouth. Your hand slips higher. “Really now? A new crowd? That’s it?” 

No. That’s not just it and Beomgyu’s a tad embarrassed that you can see through him so easily but the feeling is easily overpowered by the want to throw himself at you.

He sucks in a breath, heart thumping so hard he’s sure you can hear. You let out a puff of air. Clearly you’re ready for this game to end, tired of him playing hard to get and done feeding into it. 

“You don’t want something maybe a bit…more?” Your voice lowers a few octaves, sultry and smooth.

Like a siren calling to the sailor. Hypnotizing and mesmerizing.

Neither of you are too sure who the siren is at this point though.

It could be the vampire and to Beomgyu, it is. Captivating eyes and sharp fangs, lulling voice that sings to him like no other. All vampires that have that kind of weird alluring quality to them but yours is different, yours is something else entirely.

The human maybe as well. The one that you haven’t been able pull your eyes away from all night. Pretty makeup and pretty clothes. His scent like chocolate and a dash of vanilla. A human unlike any other you’ve had the pleasure of meeting.

Throat dry, eyes fixated in places they shouldn’t be, he nods and you watch his throat bob, that vein in his neck bulging.

Before he realizes what’s happening, your lips are next to his ear, “Look, little lamb,” His body stiffens at the name you've decided to give him. “I am here for something, and with the way that you’ve been eye-fucking me all night, I’m sure that you are too.” you cut off, smiling as you mouth at his skin, “So let’s cut to the chase. Are you on the same page that I am?”

Nails dig into his flesh and he gasps, jumping in his seat, looking shocked and a little turned on before shifting as close as he possibly can considering the fact that you’re on two separate barstools. “Yes, I—I think so,” 

“So…you wouldn’t mind if I just…” his gasp rings out, heart skipping a beat as you pull him into your lap, perching him so he’s straddling your thighs. His face so, so close to yours. He can feel your breath on fanning across his cheeks and lips. He could count each of your individual eyelashes if he wanted. Your eyes flicker down. “If I just kissed you? Until you’re breathless and panting against me, all weak and needy?” He can feel your nose brushing against his. “Leave you trembling and shaking, begging me for more, pleading for me not to stop…would you mind?”

That’s it. He’s short-circuited, eyes unfocused, a haze already taking over. “Please.” is all he can come up with but you don’t seem deterred at all by the fact.

“Good.”

He can hardly believe this is happening. Hardly believe that you’re real. A long-lived fantasy from ever since he was a teenager and stumbled upon porn brought to real life, right in front of him. Groping him, in the middle of a bar, calling him a little lamb, pulling him into your lap. In front of the entire bar.

He’s so hard, it hurts. He hopes you don’t notice. Or maybe he hopes you do.

He wants you to kiss him hard, bite and shred up his lips before you move down, using him in any way that you want, he won’t complain, he’ll be so, so good.

You lean closer and his eyelids slip shut, awaiting for your lips on his…they never meet. They’re on his neck instead, licking up and nipping at the shell of his ear, dragging down his jaw. “Tell me what you want, tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

“I-i…” He can’t think properly, you’re a fucking wet dream to him. You’re offering him all he’s ever wanted and he can’t think of anything but your fangs against his fucking neck. “S-shit,” He twitches, throbs. “Mark me, bite me.” He’s desperate, clutching onto you like you’ll disappear any second and he’ll be robbed of the chance he’s been so desperate for all his life. Of you and your scent and your mouth. “I-please-make me bleed, k-kiss me with my blood in your mouth, make me taste myself,”

“Mhm, okay, that can be arranged”, you whisper, nails digging in to grab more of his thigh. He shivers and watches pervertedly as your tongue peeks out from between your lips to wet them. “Y’know, I don’t want you to feel pressured, you can say no and I’ll let you leave,” You mutter. “I promise you’ll make it back home tonight-alive, that is.”

You laugh at your own joke, awaiting for his answer-verbally-and not just him whining like a like clingy whore. Or grinding down against you like he’s your own personal lap dance, chasing for that spark of pleasure with a sharp keen. 

He squirms pathetically in your lap, Clutching onto you, off in his own world. “A-ah, y-yes,” his cheeks are so flushed, his legs so tense in your hands. “G-god, anything! I promise, I’ll be good!”

What an offer.

You could hardly take a pass on it, hardly ignore this pretty thing. 

Others around the room pervertedly watch, getting ready for a show in the middle of the bar, hardly a rare occurrence but it’s not your style. You don’t like to share your things. And for tonight this human boy is yours. 

Only yours.

Without a word, you’re pushing him off your lap, ignoring his anguished cry and bratty groan as you grip his wrist. He squeaks. It’s firm but not painful, tugging him towards an almost hidden exit door. 

“Wha-“

“Shh, just follow my lead.”

So he does, following behind with few words of complaint. Not that he can think of much anyway, not around the cloud of lust that feels like cotton in his head.

Before his mind catches up to what’s going on you’re out in the alleyway beside the bar. A light flickers at the end of the street, far off from where you are, just barely illuminating your eyes that stare down at him hungrily.

Pressing his hips down you shove his shivering body against the dirty wall. He can feel grit and moss and something that feels wet soaking into the fabric of his skirt.

He would normally complain, complain but unlike he normal, he doesn’t mind. Because under your watch he can’t help the way his heartbeat quickens, heart working on overtime as the adrenaline begins to take over.

His jaw fits perfectly in your hand and his eyes flutter before slipping shut, leaning into your cool touch as your thumb delicately explores over the ridges of his face, down his cheekbone and over his lips. 

He’s so warm. You can’t help but marvel at him, tracing the creases of his eyes, wiping some of the glitter down the side of his face. He shudders out a breath and you smile, like a cat that’s caught a bird. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna ruin all of this,” his skin is almost scalding. Different. A warmer touch than you’ve felt in a long time. “Make you cry, make all of your pretty makeup run.”

“Please,” he breathes, he begs, raw desire pouring into the singular word. “Please do.”

He’s been so patient. So good for you. A good little toy to your teasing. You suppose he should get a little reward for his troubles.

You watch in fascination as he sighs shakily, hot breath starting to come out in pants. His heart pounds wildly in your ears and you quickly scan over him for the cause.

You quickly find it.

You.

Standing over him as he tightly clings to you. Like he never wants you to leave. His eyes open slightly, wide and needy, your pokerface slipping into a smirk you can’t hold back. 

His body shivers in anticipation and your eyes once again find that tiny sliver of thigh exposed, pale skin, unblemished calling out to you like an invitation.

To touch, to squeeze, to explore.

To bite, hopefully.

He jumps when you to touch him, from the cold, he tells himself. 

He swears he hears you growl when you make contact but he can’t hear very well over the sound of the city. Nails graze the skin before quickly skipping over where you’d already been. Toying with the hem of his skirt and then sliding under, up higher. 

His panting gets heavier. His head falls into the crook of your neck with a pathetic whine, hot puffs of air caressing your skin.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, underwear a forgone piece of clothing for tonight.

“Slut.” You hiss. He throbs, pre cum leaking all over your hand as he grits his teeth, trying not to fuck himself into your hand like he so badly wants. “You can’t wait to be fucked, can you?” you whisper, “just needed someone to do it for you.” Your hand tightens around him and he chokes out a moan followed by a sob. “Right little lamb?”

Your tone is so menacing, it’s so hot. The cool outside air is nothing compared to his feverish skin.

It seems, the only thing that could cool him down is you.

“Wanna fuck up into my hand?” He’s so wet it makes it so easy for your hand to move along the length of him. “Wanna cum?” 

Beomgyu loves this kind of teasing, though he’d never admit it. He loves the fact that you take some kind of wicked pleasure in making him all red, that he knows you want to make him nothing more than a begging writhing mess tonight.

Teasing is his forte. Edging is his favourite pastime. He can take this.

But really, as much as he wants to savour this, you’re right. He really, really, really wants to cum. Already, so quickly it’s almost embarrassing. He just wishes that you’d hurry it up already. 

That you’d give up the act and slip to your knees in front of him.

Instead you squeeze his cock, thumb toying over the tip. Beomgyu gasps, tongue needily moving against your neck, licking over the smooth, oddly cold juncture, nipping and whining before moving over to your jugular.

He shivers when he feels no pulse there.

“Tell me what you want little lamb.” He wants so many things. Too many things.

“I need it.” Every ounce of need is poured into the three words, a whine and a beg and a plea all mixed into one. His body shaking with desire.

“Do you now?” You tease.

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” His voice is muffled and it’s hard not resist the urge to dig your nails into his scalp, force him to look at you, so you can see his pretty face and glossy eyes while you make him fall apart. His noises are just as pretty though, straight into your ear, a chill running down your spine at the contrast of your body’s temperature versus the heat of his breath. So just this once you’ll let him. 

For now you’ll just rest your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly in a way that makes him purr and shudder, muffled moans reverberating against your skin.

“You that worked up already? That easily, huh?”

“So easy, just a toying with your cock for a little bit? Or is it the fact that we’re out here?” you coo. His breath hitches as you pull his skirt down just over his hips. He stiffens, worried for a second that you’re going to strip him down completely in this alleyway. 

Where someone could so easily see the two you. 

Where a worker could come to take the trash out. 

Where a drunken patron could wander out. 

Where more vampires could find you.

Why does that thought sound so good?

He cuts off into a hiss, biting down on his lips so hard he can taste blood trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape.

“Oh, is that it? Want someone to come out, watch me make a mess of you?” everything screams at him to nod, to scream out the truth but he doesn't. He only whimpers while biting down on his lip.

“Oh, you’re so close…Makes me wonder if I should slow down, give you a break?” He shakes his head insistently, frantically, devastated at the very thought. You sigh over-dramatically-as if he didn’t give you the very reaction that you wanted. “Okay then tell me how you feel little lamb. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

You’re tortuous. You’re making head spin and his blood boil with need. You’re smirking all the while and enjoying his desperate whimpers into your ear, getting all worked up. 

You’re mean. You’re so, so mean. And he loves it.

He can’t vocalize it though, can’t find his voice or get out the words stuck in his throat.

Guess you’ll have to force them out of him then.

Beomgyu lets himself be pulled off of you, allowing you to push him back against the wall harder so that every inch of his back is pressed against it. And despite the squeak of indignation of being pushed away from you he seems more than happy about this rough handling.

Even more so as you fall to your knees in front of him.

With the view of you standing below him, hungry eyes searing on his skin, focusing on every vantage point. 

His neck, his wrists, his thighs.

He feels as if he’s been burnt wherever you stare too long, skin on fire but it’s okay, okay because the pain somehow makes it so much better.

“You just gonna stare at me all night?”

Finally your attention flicks back up to his face, taking in his blown out pupils and lustful expression. “And what if I do?” 

“You love the attention, don’t you?” Fingers slide along the hem of his thigh highs. “Love it when I look at you,” he gasps when he feels you rip the flimsy fabric, too far gone to be pissed, to even cry out in indignation before it’s replaced with your lips. 

His body convulses as you kitten lick a long stripe from where the now ruined hem is all the way to where his thigh meets his hip. “You love it when you know that I’m thinking about you.”

Your breath is cold against his cock as you blow air at it, devoid of the usual warm brush of air he’s used to. “Do you wanna know what I think about you? Hear about all the ways I want to ruin you?”

His hands clench and unclench in intervals. He wants to touch you so bad, wants to feel your hair between his fingers, brush his thumb over the cool skin of your face and lips.

He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch though. He’s not willing to risk it if he knows there’s a chance you’ll stop. He wants this so bad, fuck, he really does. He wants it more than anything else in the world-and he has the chance right now! He has the vampire between his legs, teeth grazing his thighs.

He has the means and the want and the opportunity…but it’s up to you in the end.

“Please don’t stop,” he pleads, rolling his hips up, “I-I’ll die without it.” 

You bark out a laugh and that’s all he hears before he watches, eyes wide as your teeth sink into his skin and you’re groaning, gulping down like a starved animal. Beomgyu swears he sees white, or black, or…he can’t really tell but the breath is sucked from his lungs. His fingers claw desperately at the alley wall, trying to find some sort of sanity in the pleasure.

A whorish cry is ripped from his lungs, deaf on his own his ears as ecstasy and pain together and intertwined, one and the same take over his entire body.

He feels like he’s been set it on fire, like he’s been dipped into molten lava or some shit equivalent that his head can’t wrap around.

It’s intense-so fucking intense-Yeonjun downplayed it so much. But then again, absolutely nothing could get him ready for this.

His ears ring and his legs shake as if they’re about to give out. His posture is kept up only from the wall firm behind his back and your hands holding onto him so tightly he’s positive there will be bruises in their place tomorrow. 

It feels like he’s cumming but a hundred times more intense, no-a million times-more. He can’t breath, oh fuck, he can’t breath.

His lungs scream for air, but he doesn’t remember how to use them. He feels like he’s been winded, all the oxygen knocked out of him.

Everything aches and everything feels so good. His hands finally clench into your hair and he can feel your lips suctioning at his skin like you were trying to leave a hickey, only he knows there will be much more left behind than just a bruise.

He’s only vaguely aware that he must sound like some sort of dying animal with the way he howls in pleasure, strangled cries released into the night one after another.

He must look like one too with how his hands grasp at your hair, nearly clawing at your scalp, desperately searching for some way to stabilize his sanity that is slowly slipping away with how good this fucking feels.

Your nose nudges against his heated skin, lips suckling, groaning around the area as you continue to drink more and more until he feels so lightheaded he’s worried he’s going to pass out.

And then you let him go. 

Beomgyu groans in relief or in disappointment, he doesn’t know. He stares down at you: makeup smeared, drool dripping, hands clutching. He focuses on your stained red teeth, eyes dazed and sharp.

“Did you just cum?”

His hips buck, a meek whine escaping. He nods. But it’s not enough cumming once, not anywhere near enough, he’s still hard and throbbing for your touch. It’s almost as if he can feel the venom of your bite working through his system, corrupting and taking over everything, making his head spin as he arches his back slightly, presenting himself to you for further exploration. 

“Please don’t stop, god, I need you so bad~” he’s whiney and he’s adorable, his words slurred, his cheeks pink. “I w-wan’ you to explore every inch of me,” You look up at him, speechless, head filling with thoughts of bloodlust and his body as his hips chase nothing but air, moaning all the while. “Don't hold back, I want to feel everything." 

“Really, little lamb? Everything.” You taunt, before you stand, coming face to face with him and finally your lips slam against his, harsh and almost aggressive, fingers knotting into his hair, pushing him closer like you’re trying to consume him.

The taste of iron fills his mouth and he whimpers, clinging onto your shoulders, knees weak at the realization. Warm tears spill down his cheeks but you’re quick to wipe them away with your fingers, succeeding in smudging the last bits of his makeup to hell.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” you mutter, sucking his tongue into your mouth, drool and spit making a mess everywhere. “I just wanna eat you alive,” the words are sent directly between his legs as your hands slip under his skirt once more, rubbing at his taint before falling back a bit more.

Beomgyu’s eyes slip shut, pulling away from the kiss, knocking his head back against the alley wall with a wanton whine. “P-put them in-please, put them in.” He chokes out.

First you bring your fingers up and shove them into his mouth, collecting a disgusting amount of saliva that’s pooled in his mouth. “Suck.” He does, with a fervent desire, whimpering and swirling his tongue around them as if they were a dick.

Then they’re back where they were before.

He shakes, eyes finding yours with a mix of desire and submission in them. "Please...please put your fingers inside me," he begs, low and needy as he spreads his legs wider for you. "I-I want to feel you inside me...I need it so badly," he grinds down, desperate for your touch.

He lets out a soft gasp as your finger enters him; slow and steady. "Yes...just like that. Deeper. Fuck, feel so full~”

You scissor your fingers, and all composure is lost as he moans loudly at the feeling. No words come to mind, nothing can be said, only be felt.

You find his prostate with ease, pressing down on it, making your little lamb scream into the empty alley, his voice hoarse and gravelly as he pleads mindlessly, hips snapping forward so much you have to pin them against the wall.

“Yeah? That feel good? Having my fingers so deep inside you, huh?” He nods eagerly, his body shaking as you press down on his prostate. He's panting heavily now, barely able to form words.

Beomgyu loses himself in the sensation of your fingers deep inside him. He feels on the edge, his body shaking with pleasure as he grips onto you tightly, nails scratching at your skin though he knows that it’ll do nothing. "Yes...yes I'm so close," he gasps out between moans and twitches.

His walls clench around you as you add a third one in, almost as if they’re sucking you in deeper and deeper. 

He's barely able to stand up straight, his legs trying to spread wider, his skirt restricting room until in one swift move you rip a slit all the way up. His gasp is shocked. He'll be angry at you later. But not now as you take his knee in your free hand and throw it around your hip, giving you more access to press even harder against his prostate.

Beomgyu’s eyes roll back in bliss as you abuse the spot over and over. Waves of pleasure crashing over him, he looks up at you with a pleading expression in his eyes, his fingers gripping tightly onto your shoulders. "Please...please let me cum," he begs in a low, husky voice. "I need it so badly...let me cum for you," he pleads desperately, his body quivering with anticipation, so close to exploding he can’t think straight.

“Cum.”

He cries out as the flood bursts through, lost in the moment now, vaguely aware of anything except for the mind-blowing pleasure coursing through his veins. "Oh god...yes!"

His orgasm seems to last an eternity, every inch of his being exploding with pleasure. You're sure that everybody inside bar has heard you now, that your pretty boy was too loud, that he is still too loud as he pants and shudders against you, dumb with pleasure as his cum soaks into the fabric of his skirt and drips down his thighs and your arms.

You’d clean it up for him if he weren’t holding onto you so tightly, ensuring that you can’t move. Well, you could move if you really wanted to, but you don’t want to.

Instead, no words are exchanged as you slowly move your arms up, wrapping around his waist in return. He looks up at you, eyes bleary and unfocused, drooping shut drowsily.

You sigh, realizing that you’ll have to take care of him for the rest of the night whether that be trying to figure out where he lives or taking him back to your own. 

He sighs dreamily, breathing getting slower as he drifts off. Still covered in cum and drool, smudged makeup on his face and blood stained on his lips.

He's the siren and you're the sailor, there could be no other way. He lured you in and you had not a hint that you'd be trapped with him for however long he wanted you after that.

Pushing back the sweaty hair that sticks to his forehead, you smile, unable to bring yourself to be the slightest bit upset about it.

Either way, he’ll wake up tomorrow morning, completely fucked up and you're sure that you’ll be there to nurse him through it.

a/n: anyway, i'm hoping this does better than the other one because the other one did shit, but yeah.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 7

Read on AO3. Part 6 here. Part 8 here.

Summary: The longest stay you've ever had from home is about to become much longer.

Words: 5000

Warnings: Medical trauma

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Cowritten with @bastillia <3

Off we go into the field! We are loving your comments, your thoughts, your excitement and engagement in the story - truly, we are so lucky. I hope you continue to enjoy what we have planned for the future!!

Please credit all of Grace's letter to Bastillia and her genius. Also, please thank Bastillia for her newly formed fixation on the American Revolutionary War - it's because of this we can't help but bring in actual historical figures like they're our blorbos as well, HAHAHA. It's been a lot of fun learning about history and integrating it into the fic (even if The Patriot was not always hyper-concerned about this LOL)

Love you so much! <3

The letter was crisp, addressed in handwriting that swirled across the page like fairy dust. Grace’s penmanship, for certain—something you’d always envied when comparing it to yours, which bore more resemblance to cresting waves in a storm than anything meant for man’s eyes. It had been dated for a little over a week prior.

“Thank you,” you said to Goddard. “You said this was given to you by whom?”

“Major Ferguson,” he said, stepping further into the kitchen. Then, upon glimpsing your expression and perhaps realizing you couldn’t have possibly known who in God’s sweet Holiness that was, he continued bashfully, “The Major, er, commands another unit that was deployed into the backcountry. Lord Cornwallis ordered most of us to return here to Charleston about a day ago.”

You nodded, turning the paper over in your hands. “I see.” What you wanted to ask but didn’t: Does that include Colonel Tavington, then?

It’d been about two weeks since you’d last seen him in his office. You supposed he’d made good on his intention and set out from Charleston that evening. But he’d been in the field since then, and the status of your parole hung in the balance. Ghoulishly, a part of you had hoped he’d been killed in action. Perhaps even more ghoulishly, another, hungrier part of you had wished for him to return.

You’d tried to sate that part with nightly hand-feedings proffered between your legs—but still its appetite rose anew and greedy every morning.

“Who is it from?” said Lottie. “Your sister?” She peered over your shoulder, her red curls bouncing into her face.

Goddard gave a playful frown, running his hand through hair that matched his sister’s in color and texture. “I suppose I’m not offered a greeting?”

Lottie laughed, moving around you and throwing herself into his arms. “Welcome home, Benny.”

You grinned. “Yes,” you said. “It’s from Grace.” You peeled open the wax seal and started to read.

June 10 1780

My Dearest Sister,

Though I write this on only the sixth day since I bade you farewell, I feel it has been a lifetime. You will be glad to know that I was yesterday evening delivered home in most agreeable fashion by the company of a Major Ferguson, who attended to my utmost comfort and happiness the whole journey from Charlestown ; a great improvement, I say, upon the accommodations granted to me thence.

It has been made plain to me that the disruptions we endured, Sister, were the most unfortunate results of misunderstanding. A pity that though I beseech God to upend time, He does not heed me. Impossible notions vex and bedevil my sleep night upon night—would that I might stay Death’s hand before he took Mary and Nathaniel and Elijah and Adam. I can hardly bear to think of them, yet it is with shame and difficulty that I place my thoughts anywhere else.

In my most fitful hours on the road—

“I hate to interrupt,” said Goddard, very irritatingly interrupting. “But I fear the hospital may soon be teeming. We skirmished with militia on the road, and our field medic couldn’t attend every man.”

“Oh!” Lottie looked at you, her brown eyes wide with concern. “We should certainly go and help, then.”

You frowned. You were already feeling a little concerned about Grace’s inclination to Loyalist sympathy in the letter. “Can I not have ten more minutes?”

Goddard shook his head. “The colonel already wishes to depart this evening and needs every possible man made fit.”

So Tavington was back in Charleston. For now.

“Out again?” Lottie said. “But you all only just returned.”

“Yes.” Wincing, Goddard stepped past you both to grab a cloth hanging from the stove. As he wiped his face, he sighed. “Lord Cornwallis is holding a council of war. Colonel Tavington is in attendance with the other commanders, but he hopes to gather more cavalry and depart again by nightfall.” He looked apologetic. “You know how he is.”

You pursed your lips, folding the letter and stowing it in one of your skirt pockets. You know how he is, he’d said, as if everyone in the room all had the same experiences with Colonel Tavington, and everyone in the room all held the same opinion about his demeanor, body, face, hair, hands, and eyes.

And mouth.

“A council of war?” you asked, pushing thoughts of all of William Tavington’s body parts to a corner of your mind that you’d revisit in the evening. “What ever for? I thought the Continental army had left South Carolina.”

“Most of them,” said Goddard, plucking a peach from a bowl on the counter. “But they aren’t the problem. Evidently there’s been a disaster involving a group of Loyalists that the General sent north.” He bit into the fruit and sighed, savoring it.

“What sort of disaster?” Lottie asked, her eyes great dark pools of worry.

Goddard shrugged. “Men died,” he said around a mouthful of peach flesh before swallowing. “Lots of them. Don’t know the specifics. I expect we will be receiving new enlistment quotas, though, especially with these militia pestering us now.”

Lottie frowned. “Perhaps we should—”

“Have you had many encounters with militia?” you asked, your pulse picking up. “They seem to have amassed rather quickly.”

“Putting it lightly,” said Goddard, sighing. “Even with Charleston back under the Crown, it seems the rest of the colony remains determined to resist. We even found a small holdout of Continentals up the Santee.”

“Continentals?” you pressed, struggling to maintain a neutral facade. “I query why they would not have rejoined their forces in North Carolina by now.”

“Seems they received a dispatch following the Waxhaws battle, and stayed.” Goddard shrugged and took another bite of peach. “Tenacious, those men, I’ll admit as much.”

“I’m sure it’s all very interesting,” Lottie said, waving you toward her. “But if the hospital—”

“Did your forces engage them? How many were there?” You spoke just a little too quickly, but you were finding it harder to restrain yourself. “What was in the dispatch they received?”

Goddard raised a brow and glanced at Lottie. You consciously corrected your posture so that he might not think you liable to lunge at any moment. He relaxed.

“I, er, I can’t be certain what it said,” he replied. “I never saw the message.”

You exhaled in frustration. “I imagine you were unable to capture the messenger himself, then.”

“Actually, we were able,” Goddard said. Your heart leapt into your mouth. “Colonel Tavington became nigh on feverish in his pursuit.”

Your next question hung like a noose from your tongue, your body rigid as a gallows. “Who…” You swallowed. “Who was the messenger?”

Goddard furrowed his brow and shook his head, like he couldn’t fathom why you were so interested. “Some boy.” He waved his bitten peach through the air. “A… ‘Martin?’”

You nearly sagged in relief, instead bracing a hand against the kitchen table and affixing a passive expression to your face. “Oh.”

“The colonel made a…” Goddard winced, “compelling example of his family.” He paused, grimacing again. “And of their property.”

“I don’t want to hear of such dreadful things,” Lottie interjected. “Anyhow, we really must be off.” She grabbed your wrist. “Let us not stay the King’s men their care.”

“Yes, of course,” you said, forcing a nod. Though your worry was assuaged, your curiosity was very much not. You had, however, pushed both too far. “Let’s be off, then.”

The morning air was already ripening with heat, sticking to your tongue as you breathed it in. You were glad to be rid of your sling, sweltering thing that it was, before the summer’s wrath descended in full. In the smallest of ways, it was freeing. Even if your shoulder did still twinge with pain from time to time, it grew stronger each day. One less restraint upon your body. And one less reason for anyone to insist you couldn’t be of use.

You had welcomed the introduction of hospital labor into your routine. It hadn't been necessary, but staying in the Goddards’ home on your own only chafed your invisible shackles. Without a distraction, you imagined yourself as an anxious dog pacing in a barren cage. Working in the hospital also gave you the opportunity to collect information while wearing one of the most innocuous disguises available.

And besides all of that—you were good at it.

“I hate that the colonel keeps Benedict away so frequently as of late,” Lottie said as you followed her on the cobblestone. “I worry about him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure he worries about you, too.”

“I’m sure he does,” she said, sighing through her lips in a blubbering sound. “He knows I languish in his absence. It’s so difficult. The loneliness, I mean.”

“The loneliness?” You frowned. “You don’t keep busy?”

She laughed. “Of course I do! But it’s no replacement for companionship. Especially of family. You know as much.” With a playful smile, she added, “Benedict tells me it’s all the more reason for me to be married.”

“Is he pushing you to marry?”

“Not in so many words,” she said. “He does seem invested in introducing me to his fellow officers as often as possible.”

You couldn’t imagine doing the same to Grace. She had been your primary companion in life since your mother had passed—in some ways, more your responsibility than your father’s. After all, for those first few years, you were the only one able to tend to the animals or the crops, you were the only one able to make the meals, or sweep the floors. You would climb into bed with her, hours after she’d fallen asleep, after your father had emptied his glass of gin and you’d gotten him to his room.

Thankfully, your father eventually put down the gin. You didn’t think it was possible to put down responsibility. You didn’t even know if you wanted to.

“I see,” you replied. “Are they kind, at least?”

Lottie snorted. “No,” she said. “Most of the Green Dragoons are utter villains.” She folded her arms protectively over her chest. “I’m much more inclined toward Major Ferguson’s corps. He only oversees men of honor.”

There was that name again, said with the same dreamy insistence that Grace had tried and failed to conceal in her writing.

“Major Ferguson,” you said, as if recalling a long-forgotten acquaintance. “I keep hearing that name today. Do you know much about him?”

“Oh, I dream of it.” She giggled with all of the secrecy of a girl with a crush on a church boy. “I think—besides my brother, of course—he might be my favorite officer of all His Majesty’s soldiers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

“I promise you,” she said, “you have never met a man with greater wit, charm, or passion.” She laughed and gave a teasing smirk. “I think he could convince General Washington himself to throw down his arms and pledge allegiance to the King if given half a chance.”

“I will take your impressions under advisement,” you replied, grinning. You suddenly had an idea who was likely responsible for Grace’s shifting sentiments.

When you arrived at the City Hospital, Lottie dipped off to check on the sick she’d tended to the day prior. You, personally, didn’t see the purpose in conversing with those you had no duties to and decided to sit and read through more of Grace’s letter.

In my most fitful hours on the road, when grief seemed to me a dark and terrible ocean without shore, I was sought by the gracious Major Ferguson, who told most diverting stories and drew from me laughter of a mystifying source. I query whether he may be adept with some beguiling magick to have so oft performed a vanishment of my tears. He is a clever and skillful man as well as kind.

You, I am sure, would think more highly of him than you did Nathaniel, though I fear I am now far ahead of myself, Sister, and must stay my pen lest my flights of fancy make off with me, as you know they are apt to do. I am besieged now by shame to even write it, and know that were you here, Sister, you would soothe me by turning my mind to practicalities. As such, and to ease the pain of your absence I feel again coming upon me, I shall address them. I know the welfare of our home indispensable to your peace of mind, so let me assure you of it.

Despite your growing suspicions surrounding Ferguson, a smile crept over your face as you read Grace’s report on the farm. She listed every crop that had needed tending on her return, the condition of each chicken and goat by name, and included an effusive exaltation of your neighbors who had kindly fed them in your absence.

I do not wish to be alone. Major Ferguson is to depart with his men two days hence—

The delicate clearing of a throat resounded from somewhere to your side.

You snapped from the letter, looking up to see a bashfully pleading Lottie leaning around a doorframe. This version of Lottie was becoming all too familiar given the short time you’d worked alongside her. You let out a sigh.

“Now?” you protested, raising the letter to emphasize that you were occupied.

“Please, oh please,” she stepped into full view to clasp her hands in adjuration. “There’s so much blood, it’s horrid, and the bone is broken, and—”

“All right, Lottie.” You couldn’t help yourself. You smiled. “I’ll help.”

Down the hall and into the ward, a dolorous assault slammed your senses. Injured men groaned out in chorus, and the scent of blood hung in the air like coppery vapor. Lottie ducked her head and led you over to the hospital physician—Dr. Moore—who was hovering over a badly wounded man. From what you could tell, he was a young infantry soldier, his coat removed and head wrapped in bandages. Blood smothered his face, dirt smattered his legs, and his right arm was stripped of clothing.

At least, you believed it was his arm. In its current state you couldn’t imagine it being of much use for any purpose other than occupying a dog’s mouth.

“Go on,” Lottie murmured, urging you forward. “I—I’ll be ill.”

Moore caught you both approaching and adjusted the spectacles over his nose. “Charlotte,” he said, testing with his fingers what some might call flesh, but you’d probably call meat. “Where were you? I need your assistance setting the bone.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I, um, I…”

He frowned. “He doesn’t have all day, Miss Goddard.”

She elbowed your ribs, and you hopped forward with a wince. “Actually,” you said, “I’ll assist in her stead, doctor.”

“Hm?” He looked up, squinted at you. “Poultice girl?”

You nodded, even though you'd introduced yourself multiple times. “My name is—”

“Fine, yes. Come now. Hold this for me. Just there above the wrist.”

As you stepped to assist, Lottie quickly backed away, turning pale beneath her freckles as she watched you support the bloodied, blue-mottled limb. “Oh, yes, thank you so much,” she said, turning away, “I’ll be right, ah, right down that way, so, not too far!”

“Hold on, Charlotte,” said Moore. “We still might need you.”

She whinged. You weren’t fully sure how she served in medicine when she halfway lived in fear of it.

Standing by Moore, you propped up the soldier’s wrist and elbow. He stiffened and groaned through his teeth, seeking out reassurance in your eyes. Why yours, you didn’t know—you had no words of wisdom to offer him and didn’t particularly care to think of any, especially when he was impeding the work with his wooden limbs. Lottie swept to his side and patted his other shoulder, keeping her focus on his face.

“It’s all right, sir, we’re going to take care of this quickly, I promise.”

He winced, nodding, and loosened in your grip. You glimpsed her for a moment, her gaze like a deep, warm embrace. This part came as naturally to her as yours did you.

It ached, how much she reminded you of Grace in that moment. The last line you’d read of Grace’s letter—I do not wish to be alone—pricked your heart like a needle. You did not wish for her to be alone, either. You did not wish to be here, in Charleston, spending time gathering scraps of information when you knew she waited as the tender, vulnerable center of your home.

Moore started to work, and you stood still, bracing the soldier’s arm as he wiped away the blood. Even if granted leave, however, you were uncertain if you wanted to return home. The threat of the British grew greater in South Carolina, and under the supposition that both Grace and you were Loyalists, you could maintain a semblance of safety. Especially with your father’s condition still unknown and Tavington still itching for the opportunity to wring all of your necks.

Behind you, the clicking of heels. “And this is our most esteemed physician, Dr. Henry Moore.” It was the matron of the hospital. “Dr. Moore?”

“A bit busy right now,” Dr. Moore said. The soldier groaned as Moore palpated the skin on his forearm, coaxing the severed halves of bone together beneath.

“Can you take a moment?” she asked, before walking toward the other end of the ward. She tossed over her shoulder, “Colonel Tavington wishes to speak with you.”

Your eyes widened. You turned, met Tavington’s gaze and flinched, jerking the soldier’s arm. He howled in pain, and you grumbled, grabbing a wad of unused bandages and stuffing them in his mouth. He whimpered into them. Dr. Moore sighed, manually readjusted your grip, and got back to work on his sabotaged bone setting.

Tavington, meanwhile, regarded you as you imagined he might regard a body climbing to its feet after he’d gutted it. His right hand flexed absently at his side. All you could do was stare at him completely normally and not at all like a bolt of excitement had zipped through you at the sight of him.

He cocked a brow, his focus flicking over you before he turned to Moore. “Dr. Moore—”

“Busy.”

“—the British legion requires your services immediately.”

“I’m sure you believe your needs to be of great importance, Colonel, but—”

“The field medic I’ve currently retained is indisposed.”

“—as you can see, Charleston keeps me preoccupied as is.”

“You should be prepared to depart as early as this evening.”

Moore paused with a sigh, and turned to face Tavington. “Colonel, I make no assumptions regarding the frequency with which you hear this word, but no.”

Tavington’s eyes fluttered as if the doctor had clapped in front of his nose. “Perhaps you believed me to be making a request, doctor,” he replied. “I was not.”

You pinched your lips between your teeth. Moore had stopped his work on the soldier’s arm entirely. Silent, you caught Lottie’s attention from the corner of your sight, and found her face flush with anxious warmth.

“Colonel,” Moore said, with even more exasperation than the previous time, “I am the only physician in Charleston—perhaps all of South Carolina—at present. I cannot abdicate my duties here to ride with cavalry all night.” He stared at Tavington, who did not move or even shift his expression, like Moore was a fussing baby. “But I can—all right. Listen.” Moore looked at Lottie, then back to Tavington. “Miss Goddard here will be able to serve your needs adequately, and she has the added benefit of having no additional responsibilities aside.”

Lottie tensed, her gaze darting between Moore and Tavington. “M-me, doctor?” With a nervous smile, she said, “Of course, it would be my honor, but… would it be possible for my friend here to join me?”

“Your friend?” said you, the doctor, and Tavington at the same time.

“Please,” Lottie whispered, looking at you. She turned to Dr. Moore. “She’ll be a great help to me.”

Moore sighed and grabbed two splints, lining them up along the man’s forearm. You didn’t blame Lottie for wanting you there. But this would mean you wouldn’t return home. It would mean more time Grace would spend alone. You pinched the splints together, and the soldier whined, muffled by the bandages. As he twisted his head, blood trickled down his cheek, right in Lottie’s line of sight. She choked, turning to try and cough away her clear growing nausea.

“If you insist, Charlotte,” Dr. Moore mumbled as he started the bandaging process.

Tavington, who was watching with winnowing patience, looked at you. “Unfortunately,” he said, “your friend’s freedom does not extend beyond the borders of Charleston.”

You frowned. “But my intelligence was valid.”

“Yes,” he said, “but it did not produce the promised results.”

“A dispatch rider was found and detained, was he not?”

Tavington’s brows raised fractionally. “What was not found was a certain Captain Michael—“

“I am not my father’s keeper,” you growled, shifting more to face him. The soldier whined again and you shot a leer at him. “Shall I next beseech the pagan gods to divine his location, Colonel?”

Lottie glanced at you wide-eyed, alarmed at the tone you were using with a colonel of the British army. “She’s overworked from all of the injured we need to treat,” she offered. “She doesn’t mean that, Colonel Tavington.”

“She does,” he said, still focused on you. He stepped forward, voice lowering. “Divine? No. Reveal—given the insight you possess—yes.”

You snorted. Moore grabbed another roll of bandages and started using it to constrict the soldier’s arm. “If you are still unable to locate my father after everything I’ve told you, I hardly—”

The man groaned in agony, and you realized you’d started tightening your grip as you spoke. You relaxed, and he groaned louder.

Tavington sighed. “Do shut up, Private.”

Your face scrunched, almost amused. The man settled, and you took a breath. “I hardly believe that’s an issue with which I need concern myself.”

“I would say your investment in your father’s life concerns you a great deal,” he replied.

“Alas, but I cannot serve as your prophet, though you flatter me with the notion.” You shrugged. “All of those men under your command, and no success. Perhaps there’s a deficiency somewhere you need to address.”

Lottie hissed your name under her breath. “Please don’t make this harder on me.” Then, turning to Tavington, big brown eyes pleading, said, “I beg of you, Colonel. She’s simply tired. I’ll vouch for her myself!”

“Do you want to take them or not, Colonel?” Moore was tying off the second round of bindings. “If not, I’ll ask you to kindly and politely depart the ward so I can continue getting work done. You may have noticed this, but we’ve a couple dozen of your men here who need my assistance.”

Tavington’s tongue rolled in his mouth, and his eyes met yours. There you found the curiosity you’d spied while in his office, familiar glimmers of interest as he studied you. You swallowed, holding his gaze, wondering what exactly was going through his mind, wondering if he could see your speeding pulse. His head tilted, his chest fell in an exhale.

“And you… You wish to come.”

That really was the question. Your participation in this war had already dumped guilt onto your back as you unceremoniously condemned strangers to suffer and die. The thought of going along with Lottie brought a new deluge of emotions, some of which you worried would war fiercer than the soldiers in the field.

A terrible guilt for abandoning Grace. An even more terrible sadness that you wouldn’t know when you next would see her. And perhaps the most terrible excitement at the thought of waking daily and sleeping nightly within the domain of the most despicable bastard you’d ever met.

Despite it all, you knew that if you kept up the Loyalist facade, Grace would remain safe at home. Your father was the one in danger. And if you were out in the country with his primary—and deadliest—pursuer, you had the highest chance of protecting them both.

All you had to do was stay alive.

“I do, Colonel,” you replied.

“Both of you,” he said, with some amount of dread.

That wasn’t a question, but Lottie nodded anyway. “She’ll be an asset to you, Colonel. A great asset. I promise!”

“I somehow doubt that very much,” he mumbled. “Very well.” He turned to Dr. Moore, who still couldn’t be bothered to look at him while he wiped off the remaining blood from the soldier’s hands and face. “Send them along to the barracks at once. They’ll need to be briefed and supplied before we depart.”

Moore nodded. “Right away, Colonel,” he muttered.

Tavington’s eyes found yours a final time. Whether there was want or warning within them, you couldn’t discern. He turned on his heel and left the ward.

Your shoulders sagged, weight dropping to the ground that you hadn’t known you’d been carrying. Lottie provided you an expression you would’ve described as contrite if there wasn’t so much relief hidden behind it.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered. She rubbed the soldier’s back as he stood and swayed, his arm properly stiff at his side. “Off you go, sir. Get yourself a bed.” Turning back to you, she frowned. “I’m not sure if I can put my appreciation into words, really. I know how badly you wished to return home.”

“Thank you, Dr. Moore,” you said as he stood and moved to the next man. As expected, he did not reply. You shook your head and shrugged to Lottie. “It’s better for me to be doing what I can to serve His Majesty.” You hoped that didn’t sound as contrived as it felt leaving your mouth.

She pursed her lips, waiting for when Moore was out of earshot to whisper, “You have a funny way of showing it, the way you speak to Colonel Tavington!” The horror of your conduct had pinkened her cheeks. “Were you trying to get yourself hanged?”

You frowned. “Of course not.”

“Well, be more careful, then!” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I won’t always be around to rescue you.” She shook her head and brushed her hands down her dress like that would shoo the gore from her person. “Or perhaps he just favors you.”

Your next breath lodged in your throat, and you coughed. “I’m sorry—” You coughed again, straightening. “He what?”

She laughed, nudging you gently. “Oh, you are funny. Imagine, Colonel Tavington favoring anyone,” she said through giggles. “If you’d seen your face…”

“Right,” you said, bizarrely disappointed.

With a sigh, Lottie adjusted her sleeves. “I’ll tell Mrs. Smith that we need to be departing. Oh!” She gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth in delight. “This means that I’ll be in the field with Ben!” With a smile, she skittered over to the matron as she attended an ailing woman.

You tried to grin, but strained your cheeks, deciding to settle into the seat where the soldier had been instead. If you were to be departing with Tavington’s legion tonight, you needed to finish Grace’s letter. You pulled it from your pocket.

I do not wish to be alone. Major Ferguson is to depart with his men two days hence and I must admit that I dread his absence. Already once he has made a most welcome visit to certify my welfare. I told him I was indeed well, but that I should like very much to know the condition of my dear Sister. Though I with most indocile nature demanded his intelligence on the matter, he remained to me gentle and courteous. He wishes it was in his power to oblige me but it is not. He suggested however that should I wish to write you, that he may deliver you my Letter when next he is called to Charlestown. A gallant and charitable offer indeed!

Despite Papa’s endless grievances of the British army I believe he construes them all unkindly. Perhaps every one he encountered was akin to that murderous devil we so unfortunately met. In that case I should understand his misgivings.

A sense of irritation grew in your chest. You decided you didn’t particularly care if this man Ferguson was in fact Jesus Christ himself rose from the dead. The fact he was busy using your sister’s naivety to his advantage made you want to crucify him despite it.

Murderous devil, perhaps, but at least Tavington…

You paused. You couldn’t think of anything he’d done that wasn’t, in fact, worse.

But enough of wars and men. Never have you and I been apart so long, nor our home so reminiscent of a cavern. How clamorous the sound of my pen in this silence, dear Sister. Pray write me when this letter finds you. Until then I shall look each day to the South road and hope to see you return. Do not fret that I am well. Mrs. Jones has called upon me to come for supper and company, she insists, whenever I feel the pangs of solitude too keenly. For this I am grateful.

Ever, ever I remain

Faithfully and Lovingly Your Sister, Grace

P.S. I am sorry for the words herein whose inking is damaged. Mr. Mouser trod upon this Letter and entreats me now with uproarious meows to attend him.

You smiled as you finished the letter. But your heart wilted. You weren’t sure when you would be coming up the south road, or when you’d be able to unburden Grace of solitude. You knew only that you were making the choices you felt were right to keep her safe. Just as you’d always done.

Dr. Moore had left some parchment out on the table with the medical supplies. You grabbed a few pages of it along with his pen. The letter wouldn’t be long, but you could at least let her know that she did not need to worry. That you wouldn’t be returning home, but you would promise to find her, to see her soon.

You dipped the nib in the ink. You started writing.