#i meant for this and some other busts to be warm up drawings

[blu3berrydraws]

--- what’d you do?

[satonomi]

ummmmmm excuse me, my dearest fae, you can’t just say this and then not expand???

bounty hunter satoru?? do you think he has a dirty little space ship that desperately needs maintenance and he constantly brings back aliens from trips just so he can play around with them, exploring their bodies till they’re trembling and whining…………………………………

imagine in a galaxy far, far away, there’s a place where aliens and humans co-exist. now, about most of the population of aliens appear pretty humanoid, just very colorful skin and hair (pink, purple, green, blue, etc.)

the setting is very much like that of guardians of the galaxy, and gojo satoru is the most notorious bounty hunter there is. i imagine him (i’ll try to post a drawing soon) with a lot of cyber tech. his whole outfit would be black and he uses two guns, one with blue led lights and the other red (trying to get y’all to envision.) he’d also have his signature blindfold but instead, it comes in the form of cyber tech mask glasses that can dematerialize by pressing a button on the side (kinda like peter quill’s.)

he rarely ever misses when he shoots and he always catches the perps (nah, i’d win space edition.) and satoru is very serious abt his job (ik shocking but he’s gotta make that bag somehow and being a bounty hunter pays really well.) he’s very confident to say that nothing is able to distract or deter him from getting it done. but unfortunately for him, he has only one weakness. and that was alien girl puthayy 😛

see, the problem was, aliens and humans can not reproduce with one another. it wasn’t impossible, it was just against the rules. and by that definition, it also meant that it was illegal to have sex with one another. but let’s be fr, it’s going to happen whether it’s outlawed or not.

the first time satoru’s fucked an alien woman, it was at a strip club. as a man, he was curious to what it’d feel like to fuck one. and unfortunately for him, it was the best he’s ever had. it was his guilty pleasure, the one thing no-one could know about or else, it’d risk his job. but it was just too good. and where he used to jerk his cock off to human girls on his ship, now he does it thinking about alien girls. it always has him coming fast, and sometimes, just the thought can have him busting a nut in his pants, completely untouched.

he’s never had mind-blowing sex like that before in his life. the man is already a sex fanatic and craves it all the time (it helps him blow off steam), but he can’t cum when fucking regular human women anymore ;( it’s cause aliens were far more sensitive than humans, their senses advanced with the ability to feel more. and there was no feeling on earth (pun intended) like rutting into a warm cunt that was eager to suck him in, strangling his cock cuz some alien chick was horny out of her mind, pussy practically drooling all over him.

it’d have to be a secret though. and luckily for satoru, no one suspects someone like him, who’s job was to hunt down rogue aliens, to love sloppy extraterrestrial pussy.

satoru’s ship is made from the same advanced tech as his suit. it gets dirty from his constant partying and hook-ups. so, when he needs to get it checked cuz some huge beefy alien dude breaks his console during one of his ragers, he doesn’t bring it to the usual repair shop everyone goes to for their space ships. oh no no, he goes to one run by the other species.

there were a lot of hot ladies working there (because sexism doesn’t exist amongst aliens like at least they doing sumn right unlike us 😒) so, a lot of the times, his ship doesn’t end up fixed at the end.

he… likes to stay and watch them with dark, hooded eyes as they prance around his ship, eager to do their job. every once in a while, he’ll put a hand on their hip, letting it linger just long enough before pulling away when he comes over to “check on the progress.” the touch isn’t uninvited, he knows from the sultry gazes and flirty touches that are given in turn that they’re very much into him too.

it’s not long before he has them bent over the console, thrusting into the warm gooeyness of their sticky hole as they mewl and whine for more of his fat cock while he pinches their sensitive nipples ‘till they squirm.

they’re loud, and he loves it. it feeds his ego to know how hungry they are for him, for his cock. aliens were known for multiplying by the dozen, he assumes it has something to do with that. satoru’s thought about it before, breeding an alien. it was just a fantasy though, a fantasy that has him spilling his cum inside them on the spot, their needy whimpers begging him to.

that was his routine, catching criminals and fucking alien girl pussy on the side. and when his next mission entails finding some lady who stole some priceless piece of tech that could’ve sold for a lot, he was on board to find you right away (and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you were smoking hot.)

it was easy for him to track you, he was the best at this job after all. you try to flee but he manhandles you against the wall, trapping you with your wrists pinned behind you, his chest up against your back. his warm breath hits your neck, panting from chasing you down. satoru’s eyes are dilated, but you’re unable to see with your cheek pressed against the cool metal in front of you.

this wasn’t what you had expected, you were caught so easily! it was a bad idea from the start, but it was either take a leap of faith and end up rich or be broke forever.

the pleas instantly leave your lips, begging to be let go. you didn’t want to go to prison. you were young and had so much to live for! (the two cents in your back pocket 😓) satoru listened, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement and poorly concealed arousal as you went on, swearing how you’d never do it again, that he could take back what you stole and forget it ever happened. he contemplated for a moment, choosing his cards carefully, before he’s leaning in next to your ear to whisper, “no can do, sweetheart.”

you shiver, and the atmosphere seems to change around you suddenly at the shift in his tone. a feeling you were all too familiar with stirs in your stomach, your body simply a slave to pleasure (curse your biology!) and the way he had spoken to you just then had you wet in a matter of seconds.

you try to compromise, “i’ll do anything!” it flies out of your mouth before you can even think. and he smirks, like he had been waiting for that the entire time.

“anything?”

and that’s how you end up getting railed by the human man who was sent to capture you.

“‘s so fucking good— fuck!”, he’s slurring by your ear, like he was getting drunk off of pounding into you. the thrusts were desperate, as if he could never get enough of your insides. satoru could stay like this forever, watching his cock slide in and out, stretching you open with his girth. he clings onto you like he never wants to let go, your wrists free and resting on the metal in front of you, the warm puffs of your breath condensing on the cold alloy. strong pale arms covered in high-tech were wrapped tightly around your waist while his hips thrust into you with a hungered fervor.

you release a keen whine, senses overwhelmed by the pleasure. satoru craves to see and feel your puffy cunt enveloping his girth over and over. he was obsessed with the way an alien girl acted at her most natural state, unable to fight the desire to be bred like a feral animal, not a single thought in those dumb brains once you stick a cock in them.

the tip of his mushroom head hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and absolutely gushing around him. he gives you a low groan of approval when you clench, “jus’ like that pretty, jus’ like that—”

then he lets you go after blowing a load inside you, leaving you with shaky legs and a throbbing for more. and you totally don’t start thieving more often just so he can come find you and do it all over again.

[sunlightmurdock]

Blow by Blow | 0.9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni. Alcohol, sexual content whilst somewhat intoxicated (not drunk but worth mentioning). Fingering, oral (f receiving). Pls pee after sexual activity, this is just fiction, like 5.4k words omg

…

“You have to come out, we’re celebrating!” Jake decides, trademark grin toying on his lips as you duck under his arms and step outside. The evening chill brushes your biceps and instinctively makes you cross your arms over your chest.

“Mm, I can’t,” You answer back, turning to face him and starting to walk backwards to keep up with your friends whilst keeping your eyes on Jake. He lets the door swings shut behind him and carries himself forwards after you. His busted up cheek doesn’t look like much cause for celebration, but the ten thousand dollars that tonight raised for charity certainly is. “I need to go and feed Tank.”

“I can let him out and feed him. Have to drop some papers off at the gym anyway, wouldn’t be a big deal.” Shrugging his jacket closer to his body, Maverick offers from just a few steps behind you. Jake quirks an eyebrow.

“Really, Mav?” Spinning back around so that you’re facing the right way, Bradley glances back and watches the brightness in the way you’re smiling at his uncle. “You would?”

“Of course! — It’s the least I could do for my favourite employee, right?” Maverick grins at you. You throw your head back and laugh at the various gasps and vocal complaints that come from Maverick’s other employees that surround you.

“Bro, why are you saying ‘hey’, you don’t even work with us.” Mickey points out, frowning slightly as he lifts his chin to look up at Rueben. Digging his hands deep into his pockets so that he can flex his aching fists without drawing attention to himself, Rueben shrugs his shoulders.

“I dunno, that was cold, Mav.” Rueben points out playfully.

“She’s the only one who does what I pay her to do, so she’s my favourite. Anyway, I’ve got a dog to go feed. You kids have fun.” Maverick waves them off as he nears the parking lot. Jake catches your shoulders and bumps into your back, squeezing your bare shoulders playfully.

“So you’re in, right, kid?” He checks, leaning over your shoulder to check your face. Protected from the cold finally, you don’t even realize that you’re leaning into his touch until he’s letting go. Something in Rooster’s shoulders tighten, the kind of tension he usually gets seconds before he steps into the ring.

Replacing Jake’s warm hands with your own, you brush your palms up and down your biceps, craning your neck to watch Maverick reach his car safely. Rooster’s bronco is parked right next to it. You shoot a quick look towards him and find him already looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“Okay.” You nod softly, eyes unwavering from the taller man up ahead of you. He looks away first, frowning slightly as Phoenix smacks him for not listening to what she’s saying. “Where are we going?”

A club not far from the downtown strip. Phoenix calls it walking distance but she hikes for fun, and you’re wearing heels that weren’t meant for the San Diego streets. Looping your arm through Mickey’s, you end up walking a little slower than the rest of the group. Rooster periodically checks back. You look happy enough.

He’s sure that it’s not going to be your scene and that you’re going to want to leave fairly quickly. But then, you’re under purple neon lights and being talked into celebratory shots with the winners. Jake and Phoenix can pound tequila like it’s water. They make it a competition every time. You’re no match for either of them.

Jake’s a winner this evening and Phoenix remains undefeated in her weight class; Payback’s only ever lost once. There’s a lot to celebrate and it’s your first time playing this game. Rooster watches you like a ball on a roulette wheel, slamming back whatever liquid Jake hands you. He knows that there are two ways for this to end.

Still, four shots in and a vodka lemonade in your hand, you’re still laughing your head off as you make your way through the bodies to the dance floor. He loses you in the mass of dancing people for a moment. When he sets his sights on you again, you’re laughing so hard that you’re clutching your stomach as Mickey and Bob weave around each other.

The music’s loud enough that he can’t really hear himself think, but he swears he can hear your infectious laugh over it.

“It’s alright that she’s not into you, you know.” It’s a packed nightclub on a weekend and yet, Bradley still flinches when Phoenix appears at his side. He rolls his eyes as she rests her hand on his shoulder and nudges a shot glass filled with clear liquid across the bar to him.

“How would you know that she’s not into me? — You didn’t ask her.”

“Roo, she has barely looked at you all night,” Phoenix points out as she runs her fingers through her hair, scalp still sore from the tight bun that she always has Javy scrape it back into. “The bartender, though, she is into you.”

Bradley takes the shot and knocks it back, dismayed to find that it’s vodka. It makes him shiver, shaking his head as he turns his back on the glass. “Think I’m gonna take my chances with your BFF.”

“Is that… jealousy I hear?” Phoenix taunts, leaning into him so that he’ll be able to hear her over the music.

“We’ve barely hung out since you brought her around — you know that you haven’t been to my place in over a month?” Rooster replies. Phoenix points to the shot glass and holds up two fingers. The gym’s closed tomorrow and she is planning on making the most of her time off.

Leaning her head against his thick shoulder, she smiles softly. She has known Bradley since he was thirteen, and the two of them have been on a course of fucked up adventures together ever since. He gets her, she gets him. Instant best friends.

She has seen the worst of him frequently, and the best of him fleetingly. Adoration is a strong word for a man that she considers assaulting multiple times a week, but Bradley really is the brother that she always wanted. Which is why she is so blunt with him, he can take it, and sometimes it’s the only way to get information through that thick skull of his.

Pounding music and sweaty bodies filling the room, Rooster almost feels alone with Natasha at the bar. Just the two of them and their conversation.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make time,” Phoenix promises, squeezing his shoulder. She grins as two more shots are placed in front of her. “Now stop being so moody and get drunk with me.”

Phoenix is a difficult type of drunk, because there is absolutely nothing ‘gradual’ about the way alcohol hits her. She’s fine, and then she’s not. Years of knowing her and Bradley still sometimes misses her tell.

She’s fine when his attention falters. His gaze finding you in the crowd. Bathed in a neon glow, your grin stretched wide as you dance with your friends. Swaying your hips, trailing your hands up along your body and over your head, eyes closed. Jake catches your waist and spins you to face him.

The rational part of Bradley’s brain reminds him that this is just what Jake does. Even Phoenix dances with him, he’s just that kind of guy. But his arms draped around your waist and that slinky black dress has the larger majority of Bradley’s brain plotting otherwise.

Then, Phoenix stumbles and spills forwards, arms flying out for leverage. Rooster steps forwards and catches her, lifting her off of the ground and setting her back on her feet.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I’m — yeah — completely.” She slurs back as she resigns into his arms, letting her head lull back and her eyes blink heavily. Rooster sighs softly, giving her a small shake before she turns into completely dead weight in his arms.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep right now.” Bradley warns her. He lifts his head and looks towards his friends, trying to make eye contact with any of them. Already looking in that direction, you notice him balancing Phoenix in his arms first. Your friends are quick to corral.

Huddling outside, Bradley has Phoenix tucked in against his chest with Bob’s coat draped around her, rubbing his hand up and down her back. Waiting for five different Ubers to turn up, chilled to the bone and suddenly sobered by the way Bradley isn’t looking at you.

Not in a malicious way. Just like there’s nothing on his mind than keeping Phoenix awake and warm until her car is here. She keeps his head on straight, he keeps her out of danger. It’s not always an equal alliance, but it’s one that’s cherished nonetheless.

You’re considering the platonic nature of their relationship, inspecting the way her arms are wrapped around his waist, holding herself close. You brush your hands up and down along your biceps.

“Hey, kid, I forgot to tell you,” Jake rounds on you, talking so quickly that your intoxicated brain struggles to keep up. You blink a few times and he switches from soft fuzz to defined lines and thick muscles. “I found you a fight. I can manage you, if you’re interested.”

Ears perking up at the conversation, Rooster doesn’t turn his head, but he glances across at the way your face lights up.

“Car’s here. Wake up, Nix.” Mickey nudges Natasha with his elbow as he steps to the edge of the curve to signal the driver. Phoenix groans defeatedly against Bradley’s chest. Something about her little competition with Jake not being over.

“Alright, watch her head.” Bradley passes her off into the capable hands of Bob and Mickey, knowing that they’re content enough to crash at her place because of how close it is to the beach. He swings the car door shut and tugs a hand through his stubborn curls.

The option is there to just call himself a car and go back to his place, but it’s a wordless agreement that he’s coming back with you. Safety and all that. The proximity of his apartment to yours. Whatever. Your car is next, slipping wordlessly into the backseat with Rooster sliding in next to you.

You hate when people stare at you for too long. It makes you squirm and shift under their gaze. And yet, you just can’t help doing it to Bradley. Studying him silently for the drive, thinking of what you just saw, of what you heard earlier.

It’s too complex for your tequila fuelled brain at this moment, to understand how the same man who broke through someone’s eye socket and almost blinded them, could stand on a curb with his best friend being so gentle and tender. How does someone go from one to the other.

You never understood that with Jett. With him, the lines were quick to blur and it was easy to lose sight of where the violence ended and the affection began. With Bradley, it’s like those are two different people, much less two different sides of him.

“Give me the keys, Bambi. I don’t have all night.” Rooster insists, walking around the back of the car as you swing the door on your side shut and stumble towards the door.

“Why? — Got somewhere to be?” You tease playfully, your strides long and confident as you head for the stairs. He’s hot on your tail.

“Well, yeah, I’d kind of like to go to bed at some point tonight.” He replies, keeping up with the quick work you make of the stairs.

“I’m literally not even drunk.” You tell him with a small frown. He watches the three times that you try to slot your key into the lock and miss before he decides to intervene. Pressing his chest into your back, he takes your hand and guides it forwards, fitting the key into the lock and twisting.

It complies instantly and you stumble forwards as it opens. Rooster catches your hips and follows after you, steadying you with his weight and swinging the door shut.

Tank barks and leaps up, pressing his paws into your middle, tail wagging excitedly. You drop to your knees and begin greeting him. Rooster stands in your entryway, listening to the excited baby talk from you and happy whines from Tank.

“Rooster, say hi.” You catch hold of his jeans and tug softly. Your chin turns towards him and he’s floored by the way you look smiling up at him like this. You tug again, “Come on, say hi.”

He sighs softly and kneels to the ground. He smooths his fingers over Tank’s fur, both of them seemingly uninterested in each other and each looking at you instead. You kiss the top of Tank’s head and pull back laughing as he tries to lick your face.

Then, you turn, pushing yourself up onto your knees and kissing Rooster’s cheek. Pressing closer to him, you kiss the corner of his mouth. He almost lets you kiss his lips, then leans back. “Bambi, c’mon. Not tonight.”

“Why not tonight?”

Every other night, he’s more than happy to come in and try to get in your pants. You remain on your knees as he pushes himself to his feet. Tank presses into your side, reminding you to pet him more.

“I should get going, now that you’re home, and stuff.”

“Don’t have to.” You reply quietly, looking up at his through your lashes. You press a gentle kiss to Tank’s ear, smiling softly as he leans into your touch.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not!” You insist. Truthfully, the car ride looking at his pretty face and his shoulders straining against that shirt, and his thighs in those jeans — and knowing what’s in his pants. It was all pretty sobering.

“I’m not going to argue with you, baby. Get some sleep.” Rooster leans down and kisses the top of your head. You catch hold of his wrist and tug yourself to your feet.

“Come on, what do you want me to do? — Say my alphabet backwards? - Walk in a straight line?”

“Actually, I would like to see you try to walk in a straight line right now, yeah.” He rests his hands against the kitchen countertop and calls your bluff. It’s refreshing for him to be in this room when it isn’t spinning. Looking around at the framed pictures, the hanging lights and the cute throw pillows, he likes the way you decorated this place. He likes that it’s not just gathering dust now.

Squinting at him defiantly, you stick your arms out at your sides and turn away from him.

“Don’t try to fool me, kid. I want to see a solid six paces, at least.”

Six paces it is. You count the soft taps of your heels crossing the hardwood floor, arms stretched out at your sides. Rather impressively, you make it to the door and spin on your heel to face him.

Extending one leg forwards, the journey back towards him has a rockier start as you miss the pointed heel and wobble, almost twisting your ankle.

“Alright,” Rooster chuckles as he starts towards you, shaking his head. His hands are on you immediately, holding you in place. “Bedtime, Bambi.”

“I haven’t taken my makeup off yet.” You frown at him, catching hold of his broad shoulders to steady yourself as he crouches in front of you. You look down and watch, eyes widening as he lifts your foot and turns his attention to the strap around your ankle.

Large fingers and a teeny-tiny little buckle. Ridiculous manufacturing. Cute, delicate heels — he likes them, but there’s a split second where he really considers just breaking it. You wouldn’t like that. Phoenix’s voice rings in his head reminding him to be respectful of other people’s belongings. He rolls his eyes and squints.

It only works if he moves tentatively slowly, brows knitted together in concentration as he threads the strap out of the loop and free from the buckle. He frees you from the shoes and straightens up, holding onto your waist as you step down from them.

“That was sweet of you,” You comment, now having to tilt your chin slightly to look up at him. “I’m gonna wash my face and brush my teeth.”

“Alright. I’ll leave once you’re in bed.” Rooster decides as you walk by him. He drops down onto your couch and rubs tiredly at his eyes. The rhythmic thrumming of that bass track in the club still pulses in his ears. He’s getting too old for this shit.

Even with that, you make sure that he hears your sound of discontentment from the bathroom. Taking his hand away from the bridge of his nose and resting it against his denim clad thigh, Rooster sighs, “What? You need me to do something else?”

Tank has stolen his spot on the couch already, so that’s not an option. Tank adores fleecy blankets and you just so happened to leave one out earlier. He’s already on his back with his paws stretched out above him, tangled in lilac and white fleece.

“No.” Rooster’s brows knit together once again at your answer. Well, it isn’t the answer that’s the issue. Your tone is. It’s a grumpy little statement, almost like you’re sulking. Pushing himself up from the couch, he walks over the bathroom door and stares at you.

“So why can’t I go?”

“Mm,” Swaying slightly, on the right side of buzzed as you swipe the cotton round over your cheeks, you look up at him dwarfing the bathroom door frame. “You could stay over.”

The micellar water cools the heat from your cheeks, cold porcelain under your other palm. Rooster watches you silently, waiting for further information. He’s not going to say no to another night on your couch, but he’s got a feeling that’s not where you’re going with this. Rather hedonistically, he wants to hear you say it.

“We could cuddle.” You look back up at him with those big doe eyes, bracing yourself against the powder blue sink. His lips quirk softly.

He stretches his arms over his head and rests his hands on the top of the doorframe, his shirt raising up slightly to reveal the sandy hair on his abdomen. “Is that what you want? — You want me to stay?”

Smiling softly at the thought that just popped into your head, Bradley watches as you giggle to yourself and pick up another bottle of something. Squeezing the pipette, leaving two equal drops on each of your cheeks, you smooth the serum into your skin without looking at him. “Like we’re having a sleepover.”

He doesn’t need more information than that. He lets you get ready for bed while he makes sure Tank pees before locking the place up for the night. Then, he takes his clothes off. Laying on your side, facing the closet, your back is to him on purpose.

The metal bed frame creaks slightly, the mattress dipping the tiniest bit as he slips into bed. It’s soft, and your sheets make a real difference. Every time he has slept in this bed before has been a mess of old springs and that uncomfy headboard. He’s glad that you switched out the mattress.

Your leg brushes up against his first. The bottom of your foot presses into his shin as you pull the covers up to your face. “How do you like to cuddle?”

“Just c’mere.” It’s an invitation, but there’s really no need to respond. He’s already looping his arms around your midsection before you’ve even registered the word. He pulls you back against him, your bodies meeting in the middle of the bed. He’s surprised by how warm you are already.

His body heat is still a welcome addition.

“Is this good?” His open palm rests against your stomach, tucked halfway under your t-shirt, his thumb smoothing over the spot just below your bellybutton. His lips press gently your neck.

“Could you, like… squeeze me a little tighter?”

Rooster tightens his hold on you, pushing his leg forwards and slotting it between your thighs. Wrapped in his thick arms, his face tucked into the curve of your neck, you should be feeling lighter already, settling off into unconsciousness. There’s just too much happening for that.

His heart beating steadily against your back, his thumb tucked into your shirt just the tiniest bit, stroking at your stomach, and his meaty thigh slotted between your legs. His lips are pressed right up against the skin of your neck, not doing anything, just resting there.

Rooster feels you shift a little and gives you the room to find the comfort that you need. Then, he feels your hand searching for his through the darkness. Finding the hand that’s on your stomach, your fingers curl between his.

Taking his hand, you slide it upwards, venturing further under the fabric of your oversized sleep shirt. Rooster peeks one eye open as you guide his palm up and over your breast. Catching the hint, Rooster squeezes his palm softly over the supple skin. Brushing the pad of his thumb over your soft nipple, pinching it between his thumb and index, your thighs squeeze together around his.

He closes his eyes once more, settling down like he’s going to sleep, still gently caressing your breast under his warm hand. It’s nice, feeling him touch you, feeling his weight pressing into your back and into the mattress. It’s just not enough.

His thumb swipes over your nipple again, feeling it harden against his digit this time. He traces the pebbled texture of the sensitive skin without opening his eyes. Figuring that it’ll probably be bothering you too much for you to sleep, he settles for just holding your breast in his hand as he tries to direct himself towards unconsciousness. There’s not a chance.

He’s just going to have to wait for you to fall asleep so that he can turn his mind to something other than how bad he wants you.

Swallowing softly, your fingers curl between his once again. Rooster lets you guide his hand away, thinking that he must have been bothering you, quickly realizing that that was not the case.

He slips his hand out of your hold and grabs your hip, tugging you onto your back swiftly. Your breath catches in your throat at how close he is, leaning over you, eyes searching over your face.

“I feel like I never know what’s going through your head.” He admits gently, the swell of his warm palm resting on your stomach, having brushed your sleep shirt up slightly.

Glancing down, you smooth your fingers over the top of his hand, examining the difference in size between the two of you. Rooster swears he almost feels the breath get knocked out of him when you finally look at him again.

“You want to know?” Your voice is so quiet that he wouldn’t be able to hear you if there was any other sound in the apartment right now. He nods back at you, curling his fingers around your waist. You lift your head just a little, your lips are soft and taste of peppermint when you kiss him.

Turning so that he can cover your body with his, Bradley presses his weight into you. His heavy palm cups your jaw as he takes control of the kiss. The way your mouth moves, the pace, he’s keeping it all in check.

“Are you wet right now?” Bradley murmurs against your lips, thumb stroking over the bone at the curve of your jaw. Your skin flushes as he pulls back and waits for his answer. Jett never asked this. Luke Hodge from second period English lit had never asked this.

“Mhm.”

Bradley’s lips quirk upwards. It’s torn between him smirking at you and a real smile. The languid amusement coats his features, but there’s something in those deep brown eyes that tells you he’s happy with your shy, little response.

“Mhm? — That’s all I get?” Rooster’s palm smooths over your stomach and curls around your hip, squeezing the joint softly in his calloused hand. More warmth. Your gaze flitters up and you consider cracking the window behind your bed.

Swallowing softly, it’s unintentional but you’re giving him that deer in headlights look again. Rooster closes the gap between the two of you and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, a soft chuckle slips his lips and he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

Immediate recoil. He feels you tense up under him. The embarrassment floods you like a chill and you move to pull back.

“Baby, baby, no,” Wrapping both of his thick arms around your waist and pulling you into him, you couldn’t leave if you tried. Rooster kisses the corner of your mouth softly. “I’m not laughing at you.”

He slots his thigh between yours and guides you onto your back with little resistance, leaning over you. “I just… Don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” You ask quietly.

“You suck dick like it’s your day job and then, when it’s your turn, you turn into a little church mouse. — What’s with that?” His hand wanders as he speaks, fingers splayed so that he can touch as much of you at once. Trailing your abdomen, your waist, grazing over the soft tissue at the side of your breast without daring to touch is as boldly as you had allowed him to earlier.

It’s never really been your turn. There’s no out loud exchange, but the look on your face tells Bradley what he needs to know. He feels your hips shift, your core grazing his thigh softly as you squirm under his gaze.

“You want me to get you off?” His grip tightens on your hip and he rocks his hips forwards just slightly. Just to let you feel exactly how hard he is at the thought. Glancing down between your body and his, your decision is made whilst the rational side of your brain is still pleading its case.

“Mhm.”

Bradley smirks amusedly. He kisses you softly, hand trailing under your shirt to knead over your breast. Pushing the fabric of your loose fitted t-shirt up and out of his way, his lips attach to your skin. Languid kisses, open-mouthed and tender as his strong palms brace at your hips, keeping you in place for him. His mouth works along your abdomen, nipping softly at the underside of your breath and feeling you careen into him.

“Sit up.” You obey him blindly, sitting up long enough for him to quickly discard your too-big, faded shirt and leave you in a much more vulnerable state. “God, Bambi.”

His hands roam your torso like he can’t possibly touch enough of you at once, walking the line of having a firm touch and a gentle hand. Letting you know his strength and reminding you that you’re at the mercy of it, all while dusting a featherlight touch over the most sensitive parts of your upper body.

As with his hands, his mouth needs to be everywhere at once and it half feels like he has mastered the ability to make that possible. Eyes screwed closed, you deny yourself the sight of him, knowing that it’ll just make your nerves surge, and there’s no way you want to let yourself ruin this.

Four senses remaining. Your hands smooth over the flexing muscles in his shoulders as his tongue trails a circle around your nipple before he commits to taking it into his mouth. Warm, so warm, a flush of adrenaline running through him. The feeling of that under your fingertips.

The peppermint on your tongue, reminding you that you should just be platonically sleeping beside him right now. Your bedtime ritual pales in comparison to this.

The soft groan he makes as his hand paws at your other breast, reverberating in your ears and carrying shockwaves along your synapses. Excitement pooling between your legs at how deep and gravelly he sounds when he moans.

The cologne from before the bar. Inhaling it in the car as you traced the veins on his arm. Intoxicated by it when you had settled between his thighs the other day.

You lift your hips from the mattress and push them down against his thigh. His muscled appendage provides little relief, but you’re still chasing what it gives you. Your underwear presses into your core with each rock, soaked and catching on your excitement.

“All I got was an ‘mhm’,” Bradley muses softly, trailing his nose along the middle of your torso, pressing his lips softly to your navel. His hand slips between your legs without warning and cups your over your underwear. “This fucking soaked, and all I got was a little ‘mhm’.”

Nudging your underwear swiftly to the side, he dips his middle and index finger between your folds and gathers your excitement on the digits. Another deep groan as he looks down at the coating on his fingers.

He palms a hand over the tent in his boxers, kissing your hip bruisingly. “You’re gonna let me taste you, right, baby?”

“Okay.” You breathe out, needing your vision back. Heart pounding as you stare at the ceiling.

“Okay? — Is that all I get?”

“Please.” You whimper softly. Anything to settle the throbbing between your legs, anything to make you feel less restless. Bradley hooks your thigh over his shoulder and presses his mouth hungrily to your thigh. You careen into his kiss as it bruises the sensitive skin, pressing the heel of your foot into his shoulder for leverage.

Grabbing your hips, Bradley manhandles you into place, pressing you into the mattress and keeping you there. He grabs your underwear and tugs it down your legs, pulling back just to get it off your ankles and then settling back into back.

At first, he’s not where you need him at all. Tongue teasing between your folds, pressing tender chaste kisses to your pelvic bone. Ignoring the dripping mess between your legs until he’s satisfied with how your hips buck in desperation for him.

He lifts his gaze, brown eyes on you as he delves his tongue into your soaking core. His fingers press tighter into your hips, keeping you down on the mattress as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices on his tongue. He spreads it upwards and lubricates your clit with a mixture of his spit and your own juices.

“O-Oh, fuck.”

Before this second in time, you were so sure that Jett had made you cum. Orgasms with other people just weren’t as intense because there were so many other things happening. Bradley’s tongue could be tracing some foreign alphabet on the most sensitive part of your body for all you know. All that you do know for certain, is that you can’t let him stop.

Luckily, he has no intention of that. He’s been thinking about this since the day you gave him head and then denied his reciprocation.

Sucking, licking, alternating between pressure and gentle flicks of his tongue, he has your back arching away from the pretty flowers on your sheets. Your fingers slide into his hair without thought, tangling into his curls, keeping his head exactly where you need it the most.

Rooster sinks his middle finger into you first, groaning as he rocks his hips into the mattress in search of relief. Your walls squeeze his finger as he curls it into that spongy part that has you yelping in surprise.

Worked up enough that you can take his index finger with little resistance, Rooster’s brain damn near short circuits at how well you hug the digits. Even with the diminished capacity, his mission never once falters. His deep groans send shocks through your core and each curl his fingers has you rocking your hips against his tongue for more.

“Fuck, stop - Rooster — stop,” You pant out, voice strained, clawing at the sheets for purchase as your other hand tugs at his hair. “Feels… weird.”

“Just cum, it’s alright,” He mouths desperately along your thighs, stopping when you ask him to but not really wanting to pause long enough for your high to ebb away. “Trust me. Just let it happen, relax.”

You try to exhale slowly and do what he says, but then his mouth is on you again and you squeak at the feeling. You tug harshly at his roots and feel him moan, the vibrations and the tickle of his dampened moustache on your clit and his fingers fucking into you, it’s all too much.

The tightness in your stomach winds until it feels like a rubber band about to snap. And then, it does snap. You jolt against him, lips parted, brows furrowed, the sound caught in your throat. His mouth slows, but remains on the same pattern, sending aftershocks through your already trembling system.

“Fuck,” That image is never going to leave his head. He pulls his fingers from you and kisses tenderly across your hip. “How was that?”

Searching for words, any kind of intelligent conversation that you might be able to string together, it’s a lost cause. Panting, a soft sound of whimpered contentment slips your lips. “Mhm.”

He wipes his mouth and lays down against the pillows. “Gonna cuddle you how I like it normally. Alright?”

“Oh - b-but, wait.” You realise, hand trying to find which way is sound in your hazy mind, stumbling across the waistband of his boxers just by chance.

Rooster grabs your hand and pulls you closer, he manhandles you across the mattress so that you’re laying half on his chest. “This is so comfy.”

You hum in agreement, his arms tucked around your naked form, your cheek smushed up against his thick pectoral muscle.

“Should let me do that more often.” He muses quietly. You nod against his chest.

��

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Cordelia Concept Art

Cordelia concept/reference art. Translation notes and image id below the cut.

Translation Notes

The word for "sash" on this page was literally "obi," the type of sash a woman would tie around a kimono. "Obi" is a valid English word, so I went back and forth between what to use, but since her dress isn't technically a kimono + the sash isn't tied in the style an obi usually would be, I decided to go with the more catch-all term.

"White as snow" was a word that literally just meant "white," but the first character and the word in general had some connotations with innocence/purity, so I added "as snow" to try and give that same connotation.

"Simple" as it refers to the fastener might have also meant "casual."

"Once upon a time" wasn't exactly the Japanese phrase for "Once upon a time," but it was fairly close. A more literal translation would be, "In the olden days, it just so happened that..."

"Girl of innocence" appears to literally be the word "witch". However, if you take the first character as a separate prefix to the second, it would mean something along the lines of "pure/genuine/true girl." I'm not really sure if that's how it works, but it seemed to make more sense than "witch," so that's what I ended up going with.

Image IDs

[id: Five images. The first two are the full pages of Cordelia's concept art in Japanese, the other three are translated versions of the text. On the first page, there is a colored and uncolored version of Cordelia's portrait. Underneath, there is an illustrator's note that reads, "Cordelia's overall tone is pale, so I thought it ended up being pretty difficult to choose a shading color. And actually, her initial facial features were much younger, but Mr. Ikushima redesigned her several times to give her the elegant look she has today. (Rina Yoshiura)". The second page is titled, "Morality's Sister (Healing Hands to Protect) Rough Draft". It has a small illustration/comic of a childhood Cordelia and Roland. It has the notes "Country A," "13 year old," and "girl of innocence." It then has a note that says, "I have to protect," with a large bracket beside it that contains the list, "small, dainty, gentle". There is also the word "pure" nearby. Underneath that is the illustration, titled, "Sister and Morality" with the subtitle "about 8 years ago". In the illustration Roland seems to be throwing a caterpillar-like bug aside. It's labeled, "Weird Bug Arm Bar Throw." Roland has some dialogue that reads, "I've for real gotta catch it!" Cordelia has some dialogue that reads, "huh?" Underneath them both, there's a note that reads, "Once upon a time, a warm fuzzy feeling made him think, 'I have to protect her!'" To the side there are several portraits of Cordelia, some full-body (one of which has a note about her braid being brought in front of her shoulder), and two that are labeled as "Bust portraits". One of the portraits shows Cordelia in a simple cloak with the fastener being labeled, "simple metal fastener." There's a top-down diagram of the metal she wears at her dress's neckline, labeled, "Decoration rough draft." On the second half of the page there is a portion labeled, "Working out the sister's hair ornament….." One version has a large flower on it. Next to it is a small portrait of Groma. A note reads, "Big flower, three strand braid. Doesn't she look like Grandma?" Another section is labeled, "Morality Facial Features and Morality's Sister WIP". There are several drawings of Cordelia's face, along with a full body rendition of an alternate design. She still wears the same sash as she does in canon, and nearby is the note, "For women. If they are wearing a dress, the sash should be wrapped like this." At the bottom of the page, there is another illustrator's note that reads, "She had this more child-like sort of look to her character during the drafting phase. But she ended up taking on a more serious role than I had originally expected, and the design was tweaked to fit. I recall she was a difficult character for us. (Yasuaki Arai)" /end id.]

[daemour]

Pairing: Hongjoong x gn!Reader (but not really romantic lol)

Genre: Fluff, non-idol au

Word Count: 745

Warnings: None

Summary: A late night photo inspiration leads to something more.

an a new, long awaited tipsy drabbles!! this is actually my second draft because the fist one would have been far too long and not taken me 2.5 hours lmao

optional pt 2

-

It’s not recommended to walk in Manhattan at night. But when have you ever had safe, good ideas? As a self-proclaimed photographer, some things you must sacrifice for the perfect shot, and safety is one of them. (And not following that advice is also something you should ponder.)

The city's lights were just so brilliant tonight,and paired with the strawberry supermoon, you couldn’t help yourself.

You find yourself in a park, getting a gorgeous shot when a voice interrupts your artistic journey. “I guess we’re after the same thing, huh?”

You spin around, and a young man with grey hair smiles at you. He’s skinny and petite, and yet his smile draws you in and gives you a sense of fire in his heart. It’s only after a moment do you notice the Fujifilm in his hands.

“Maybe we are,” you offer him a small smile, clearly hoping he would leave you and your socially awkward ass alone, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.

He nods at the camera clutched in your hands. “Mind if I take a look?”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. You’ve never really shown your work to others outside of your family and friends—you aren’t truly a professional, not like he seems to be.

As if sensing your hesitation, the man whose name you still haen’t got smiles reassuringly. “No pressure of course. Sometimes it really can feel like bearing your soul to someone.”

The complete and utter understanding in his voice does the exact opposite of what it was meant to accomplish, and you get a bust of confidence. “Here,” you say, offering out your old and worn camera. The stranger is surprised but takes it with a warm smile and a small ‘thank you,’ suddenly seeming less intimidating and more…human.

There is a moment of silence as he clicks through some of your pictures. “These are really good,” he says, looking up at you and you avoid eye contact, instead focusing on the streetlamp over his head. “You’re very talented and have an eye for composition.”

“Ah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t draw inspirationg from my–” you start to mutter, but he holds up a hand to stop you in the middle of your sentence.

When he finally is able to meet your eyes, it feels like you’re rooted to the ground and yet sinking into his gaze at the same time. “Don’t say that,” he says quietly but with such intensity that you wince. “Although it’s often said that the best art comes from one’s experiences, that’s not always the case. Even the most casual pieces hold just as much integrity as the more soulful ones. It’s clear you did your best, and that’s what matters.”

There is so much sincerity in his voice that you can’t help but look away. It’s not often you get a thought-out opinion on your work, and hearing it come from a stranger just makes those words mean even more.

“Thank you.” You almost whisper your words of gratitude but the man takes no offence, instead returning your camera with a smile. When you put it back into its bag and sling the strap around your shoulder, he raises an eyebrow.

“Done then?” You nod, and he fumbles in his pocket before pulling out a business card and handing it to you. “I know it may seem like a scam, so feel free to ignore it if you want, but I actually run a studio and I would love for you to come in and chat more. Have a good night.”

And just like that, he walks away and is gone before you can even blink. It’s too dark to look at the card, even under the flickering streetlamp, so you put it in your pocket and it weighs heavily until you reach your modest apartment.

It’s only then you pull it out and look at the name on the sleek, silver card. Kim Hongjoong. A quick google search later and you almost drop the card to the floor. You just had a three am conversation with a world-renowned photographer.

Almost a week passes before you have the courage to dial the number and it rings for such a long time that you think he may have forgotten when a click is finally heard. “H-hello?” you practically whisper out and there is such a long silence that you think he’s hung up when–

“City girl.”

[asifyoudidntknow]

I miss you, fic + Adele lyrics

Go easy on me (pun intended), friends. Here is my very first fanfic. I love Adele's song "I miss you" from her 25 album. Whenever I hear it I can't help but think of msr. This fic was born after listening to it on repeat. @today-in-fic

I want every single piece of you I want your heaven and your oceans too Treat me soft but touch me cruel I wanna teach you things you never knew, baby

Bring the floor up to my knees Let me fall into your gravity Then kiss me back to life to see Your body standing over me

When he had busted down his door to find Scully lying on her back, dead still, red blood soaking her chest, he took a sharp intake of breath, but forgot to exhale. The blood was a stark contrast to her bright white blouse and it’s presence a reminder that he had been one step behind Padgett in his psychic game of ludicrousness. Padgett silently stalking Scully, sending her a milagro, then confronting her with his lovelorn thoughts, it made his head ache. Padgett then faced with the realization that Scully’s heart was already spoken for. What a goddamn parody. Mulder refuses to let her sacred heart bleed out for him. He will race to Antartica, make a deal with the devil for the chip that cured her cancer, but he draws the line at fucking with her God. When Scully’s eyes fly open the relief flooding through both of them is palpable. As she claws at him, in shock, and visibly shaken, he realizes how much she needs him. She needs him in ways which he is not sure he is capable of providing. And that scares him.

Baby, don't let the lights go down Baby, don't let the lights go down Baby, don't let the lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Down, down, down

I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby, give me light

She is gone.  Scully is gone.  As he lays in this unknown bed, with this unknown woman, her body foreign, it holds nothing for him, just as he suspects the same could be said for her.  The only warmth he feels is the weight of a 14-karat gold cross necklace clasped around his neck.  As he lies on his back, the cross falls over his sternum and with each breath moves up and down over his aching skin.  He wishes that somehow, with each passing breath, that he could breathe life into this symbol of faith that Scully has found so much comfort in.  That this life force could bring her back to the land of the living, to him.  Last night both he and Kristen wallowed in their states of unrest, finding solace in each other.  One night of releasing the built-up tension.  Hers didn’t climax until hours later, on the tall grass covered hills under the morning sun in LA.  His is slowly seeping from his body with each passing minute she is gone.

I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all of my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby, give me light

She hangs up the phone and punches her pillow down—whether to fluff it or let out some frustration, she doesn’t know. Actually, she does. Of course Mulder ran off again. This time to a town infested with killer cockroaches. And ran into a woman named Bambi. Who the hell is named Bambi? She feels helpless lying here at home in her warm bed. Mulder is a grown man who can take care of himself, but the way he impulsively jumps headfirst sometimes… she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she’d feel better if she was the one there watching his back. Right now, it’s just Bambi and that does not bring her much, if any, comfort. She knows the innocent flirting and bantering meant nothing this evening--just poking some fun, but when it comes to her partnership with Mulder and her responsibility to him, she does not take that lightly. They each had taken an oath to protect the other. Surely, she can’t rely on Bambi.  Oh hell, she better get up there.

I love the way your body moves Towards me from across the room Brushing past my every groove No one has me like you do, baby

Bring your heart, I'll bring my soul But be delicate with my ego I wanna step into your great unknown With you and me setting the tone

Of all the moments of his existence, Mulder will never, ever forget the night Scully came to him. Or the way she felt that night. Every single detail is etched into his eidetic memory. The feather light brush of her hair against his skin, the catch of the moonlight in the blue pools of her eyes, the sound of her moan as he entered her for the first time. Heat, friction, oneness. He’s been married to Scully in every other way for so many years, yet not physically. This joining makes him want to throw himself on his knees and kiss the feet of whatever deity gave her this epiphany. He put the ball in her court on this one. He has been ready since that mind altering fungus fucked with his brain and was further sealed when his thoughts intermingled with her deepest fears and desires. It was only a matter of when. He has learned that it is best not to push with her —she usually retreats, but to let her come to her own decision in due time. Scully does not rush, nor does she leave any scenario unturned. Early in their partnership this used to bother him, but over the years he has come to admire and respect that trait. The fact that she came to him is a decision he knows she did not make lightly, and he is in awe of it.

Baby, don't let the lights go down Baby, don't let the lights go down Baby, don't let the lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Lights go down, lights go down Down, down, down

I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby, give me light

It’s 2:53am. Scully finds herself tossing and turning under the sliver of shadows and streetlights dancing through the blinds. The quiet night does not match the inner turmoil she is grappling with. 5 years of the most challenging and astounding work of her career thus far. 5 years of the most challenging and dedicated partnership. She’s been feeling restless lately, both in her career and her partnership. It’s been roadblock after roadblock. Someone always one step ahead in their work. And then there is Mulder. When they had lost their work in the fire and then closed the X-files, he shut down; retreated. Diana had showed up precisely at the right time with her enthusiasm and unwavering belief that aligned with Mulder’s. Needless to say, Scully was not feeling particularly needed. So, this morning when OPR said reassignment she knew she had to make a choice. She would never be challenged enough at some FBI field office across the country, and she didn’t even want to consider who she might be partnered with. Her and Mulder may have had their share of disagreements, but their partnership has always been built on mutual respect and trust. Trusting anyone else within the FBI—especially in the field, seemed absurd. Nothing could hold a candle to the X-files. Or Mulder for that matter. But that was not a matter she wished to dwell on at this hour. Luckily, the knock at her door ensured she wouldn’t have to.

I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby, give me light

We play so dirty in the dark 'Cause we are living worlds apart It only makes it harder, baby It only makes it harder, baby Harder baby, harder baby

I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all of my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby, give me light

He is gone. Mulder is gone. She came to feed his mollies. Keeping them alive is just another act of preserving her faith that he will return. Last time one died under her care she never heard the end of it. She didn’t plan to stay long, forty-two is not the same without Mulder, but when she turns back towards the door an internal tug pulls her in the direction of his bedroom. His bed is still unmade, in haste to leave for the airport probably, yet the rumpled sheets and strewn dress shirt call to her. She slowly picks the shirt up, knowing that this one was discarded because of the stripes. Not Mulder’s first choice. Scully lies down surrounded by him in touch, scent, sight, and sound she begins to relax. Her mind drifts to a week ago when she spent the night here—a tangle of limbs, sweat, and sweet release. She never would have imagined that it may have been the last time she was able to make love with Mulder. She willed herself to focus on the present moment. Deeply breathing in the combination of soap, deodorant and sweat that is so familiar, the crisp and soft feeling of his dress shirt against her cheek, the soft translucent glow of the bedside lamp and the white noise of the bubbling fish tank slowly sink her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I miss you when the lights go out It illuminates all of my doubts Pull me in, hold me tight Don't let go, baby, give me light

I miss you, I miss you I miss you, I miss you I miss you, I miss you I miss you, I miss you

She misses him.  It’s always hardest at night.  When it becomes quiet, and she is alone with her thoughts.  Her days are busy and filled with surgeries, meetings, research, paperwork, and patient rounds.  She rarely has time to think of Mulder, but when she climbs into her cold empty bed—it amplifies the fact that he is not there.  She had become so accustomed to him warming the bed before she came home after a long day, his arm slinging over her hip as she curled into him in his half sleep stupor.  The middle of the night waking’s when he would slowly whisper how much he missed her and needed her right now.  It was good and then, it wasn’t.  He would fall asleep on the couch, stopped shaving, his eyes were puffy and hollow.  There was no light behind them when he would see her.  She tried so hard to help him.  Begged him to care for himself.  Her worry over him was affecting her work and she needed some space.  That’s when she left.  She didn’t want to.  She never imagined that she would ever do it, but for her sanity it was necessary.  Now lying in her cold, empty bed she realizes just how long it’s been.  The months turned into years.  Years of missing Mulder.  She knows he is getting better; she does check in with him from time to time.  She knew when the hardness in his voice had started to soften, when she could feel his smile through the phone, the light banter of his teasing returning and his occasional, although more frequent, middle of the night calls.  She had become so numb after leaving, but now she ached for him.  Ached for his warmth, comfort, and companionship.  She misses him and it is overwhelming.

[vixenpen]

Oooooooh I got a steamy request queen! How about we have Shoto (Hawks, Baku, or Kiri; whoever YOU think should do it) as a well-known maaseur that immediately took interest in us black!readers when we come in his shop and we get a body massage from him. However, his hands are GODLY and he hits all the tender spots and we have to keep ourselves from moaning cuz it feels so good and we don’t want him to be weirded out but he lowkey is getting just as turned on and even touches up our nether bits (like our ass) which escalates to us fucking in the room???? 🤤🤤🤤🤤

Love ya lots queen and keep up writing, your work is amazing!!! 🤎��

Working out the kinks (Bakugo x Black! Reader)

(I haven’t finished this yet. So please ignore it 😂 I meant to save it to my drafts and accidentally posted it so I’m working on it bit by bit)

“Just get undressed to the point you’re comfortable with and I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sure. You nodded.”

And with that Katsuki left you in the dim, candlelit room to undress.

Once Katsuki had stepped out of the room, he allowed his mind to run wild. Damn you were fine. All melanated curves, smooth skin, and bright eyes.

While you did your thing in the back, the man headed for the bathroom to stroke himself off to the thought of those beautiful brown curves under his touch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did she have to come in today? No fuckin’ way I’m gonna be able to concentrate.

He thought as he spilled his seed into a tissue and threw it away. Hopefully busting that nut would be enough to keep him from popping another hard on in the room.

Minutes later it Seemed like you had gotten completely naked from the way the white sheet was hugging your beautiful brown body.

Shit, she’s sexy as fuck. I gotta calm down and stay professional.

He thought as he rolled the sheet lower on your hips. He was grateful you were facedown with your eyes closed so you couldn’t see him eye humping that fat ass of yours.

“Let me know if the pressure is too deep, yeah?” He mentioned, warming the scented oil between his large palms.

Little did he know his gruff, deep voice and those words had your pussy clenching.

“Ok.” You hummed too relaxed to speak above a whisper.

Then you felt those big, capable hands pressing out all the tension and strain you’d been feeling for the past few weeks, and had to actively fight back a moan.

Instead a deep sigh rolled out of you as the masseuse kneaded sore and locked muscles.

“You’re really tight here, Ms. Y/n. Carry a lot of tension in this area?”

“Yeah~” you moaned.

The sweet sound of it made Katsuki’s dick jump.

“Would you be ok if I went a little deeper with it?” He asked in what was almost a purr. “If not that’s ok.”

“No you can go deeper,” you replied, “I like deep pressure.”

I bet you fuckin’ Do.

The man thought as he slid his hands and his gaze lower, imagining that he was massaging your round ass. He put his all into his hand work. Finally, you couldn’t hold back anymore, a long groan escaped your lips.

The man’s hands paused. He felt his dick stand to attention. At the same time, you tensed completely on the table.

“I-I am so sorry.” You stammered.

A rough laugh met your ears and made you shift. It was such a warm, manly sound.

“Don’t be,” your masseuse replied, “those are the kinds of sounds I like to hear.”

Your breath caught as his big, warm palms moved down to your hips and butt.

“I try to draw those sounds out as much as possible.” He purred. “Moaning and putting you to sleep is the goal.”

Fuck...

You thought. Katsuki laughed.

“I wish.”

“Wh-wait, what? Did I say that out loud.”

The man laughed again. “Sure did.”

“I-I really didn’t mean to. It just...feels so good.”

“Bet it does.” He replied.

“Did you say, I wish?” You replied.

“Hey, you started it.” You heard the smirk in his voice.

“You tilted to look at the massage therapist.” In his plain scrubs you could see his broad chest flexing beneath the thin material. Your eyes ran down his bulging biceps and to the big hands on your hips.

You bit your lip before glancing up at Katsuki.

He licked his own lips back at you.

“You know you’ve got another thirty minutes.”

Your pussy warmed again with want.

“What are you suggesting?” You asked.

He slid the sheet down your hips and grabbed the mounds of your ass in his hands, giving it a massage.

“Let me work on some other kinks, yeah?”

[leroyzboots]

you and i are trying, together.

part two.

The amount of unease that can fit into Tommy's more-than-human-less-than-god body is honestly surprising.

Tommy paces back and forth on the floor of the Lambda lab, his Beyblade whirring between his fingers and his precious immortal dog following behind him with love.

They'd arrived at around half past midnight, but it's now early morning and there's been no sign of the other two members of the science team.

Bubby leans back in their chair, crossing his knee-high laced boots over their knee, and bounces the other one out of anxiety.

"Tommy," he barks; "you're scaring the other scientists."

Tommy glances down and realizes that the Beyblade is whizzing madly in the air around his hands, suspended from nothing.

"D-dammit," He mutters, snatching his toy back and returns it to his pocket.

"They sho-should have been back by now."

Tommy stops pacing for a second and stares down the Coomers with his father's intensity.

"Surely, Benrey could have used teleportation?" Harold chimes in, his knuckles bruised slightly from his repeated stims.

"I think that's what he meant, dear," Bubby replies, patting their husband's shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, exactly!"

Tommy throws his hands into his pockets, huffing out his frustration.

"The f-fact that they're not...back yet! Means something has gone-"

A enormous thud echoes from the the floor, a piece of tile juts out slightly and scatters the scientists nearby.

"Wrong," Tommy finishes miserably, drawing his gun and preparing for Xen's creatures.

Beside him, Sunkist snarls, her hackles raised in warning.

The tile cracks and shoots into the air, with accompanying gunfire from below, and a hatch busts open from the hole.

Tommy aims to shoot, but immediately lowers his gun upon seeing Mr. Freeman's tired but happy face, followed closely by Benrey, the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual.

"G-Gordon!!"

Tommy rushes forward, embracing them both, and the knots of tension unravel in his stomach.

Benrey snuggles just a little closer into Tommy's coat, and Tommy releases Gordon to pull Benrey into a full hug.

--

Tommy planned on never admitting it to himself, but these two were the people he loved the most.

Benrey..he'd known Benrey for years.

It started when Benrey was just out of training, and Tommy had completed his certification to become a top scientist.

Benrey was 19, maybe 20 at the oldest, his hair pulled into a ponytail that ran down his back.

They weren't close, then, Benrey had been assigned to guard the G-Man's adopted son.

Benrey couldn't die, and Tommy's line of work was dangerous enough to need protection.

So it all worked out.

They barely exchanged more than a few words to eachother until that one night, that one fucking night and Benrey is tripping over himself in tears, blood pouring from the wound on his back and he's clutching Tommy, pawing at his shoulders.

Benrey trembled like he's made from glass and will break if he falls, and Tommy gripped the back of the others security vest so tightly the kevlar nearly rips in half.

And that's saying something.

That night they sat together and they're closer in distance than they've ever been, Tommy's warm and gentle hands bandaged the wound above the numbers tattooed onto Benrey's tailbone and Benrey spilled everything.

Between sniffles and the occasional sob, Benrey confessed, about the tools that somehow hurt him beyond regeneration, leaving a scar, about the men and their evil sticks of lightning that would seep into his bones and fill him with pain so intense he felt like he would break in half.

Tommy nearly broke in half himself.

He felt helpless, and so he went to the only person he knew would make the ones who hurt his first and only friend pay dearly-

His father.

Oh, Tommy had never seen the G-man so angry.

Black Mesa was a research facility, for god's sake, dedicated to the study of alien life and the progression of the human body.

So when Tommy's dad realized that the prototype imprisonment he had resolved several years ago had resurfaced with an even uglier face, he sent scientists who had never experienced fear in their lives tripping for the door in yelps of terror.

And that had been the end of it.

Benrey continued his job as a security guard, people who had previously been made in the facility were hired back on as scientists in new departments such as mixology and cybernetics, and Black Mesa cut its ties with the military.

Black Mesa, Benrey explained later in his own broken way to Tommy in the quiet breakroom during lunch hour, had been trying to create the perfect human being.

There were thousands upon thousands of prototypes that had been created, and Benrey had been the last.

But there had always been something wrong with the ones they created, whether it was serious physical or mental deformities, or simply a sense of fucked up little creature that ended up resulting in the insane amount of scientists with the ability to grow in size, and the security guards that always had a few too many rows of teeth or glowing eyes and severe anger issues.

They weren't always grown in tubes, Tommy learned, but they were always branded with their serial number on the base of the spine.

The one before him, Benrey quipped with a mouthful of sandwich, had been born to a prototype and a normal human employee, before they stripped them out with a memory wipe and sent them into normal society.

The anxious feeling that haunted Tommy in the years that followed had something to do with that piece of information in particular.

Something told him that the military and the alien planet they were studying wouldn't let go of Black Mesa kindly.

Mr. Freeman confirmed that.

He's in the hallway, on his way to get a soda, when he's met with a newer employee, only worked here about 4 or so years.

He seemed kind enough, if a little loud and stubborn. And alright, maybe it hurt Tommy's feelings when Gordon called him a freak, but that was pushed aside with the Resonance Cascade.

Tommy knew that this was it, this was the boot boys' revenge for cutting them out of the picture, but there was something else, distinctly and unsettlingly alien about the Cascade.

The whole of Black Mesa fell into shambles, with creatures of Xen integrating into their carefully built walls and lives, and Tommy kinda freaked, okay?

He'd seen Dr. Coomer around, always greeting him with a wonderful "Hello!!", and was met with a thrill in his stomach when he introduced another prototype as his husband.

Those two had been with him, in the observation room when the project exploded around Gordon and Benrey-

he wasn't supposed to be in the test chamber, what if it seriously hurt him?-

And maybe that was when Tommy realized he was in love with Benrey.

Over time, he felt a sense of conflict slowly building as he made friends with Mr. Freeman.

He seemed to hate Benrey, they hated eachother, but Tommy liked one and loved the other so he became their middle ground.

He was convinced to himself that Benrey liked him as well, until that room, that dark, dark room, and suddenly Benrey is kneeling in a puddle of Gordon's blood and Bubby is screaming, sobbing, blubbering his apologies to anyone who is listening as the soldiers drag them away and Benrey-

He says it, he says those words and it breaks Tommy's heart into a billion pieces-

"Because I love him, okay?! I'm fucking- whoop-de-doo, in love with Gordon god. G-goddamn Freeman, okay?..."

And then Benrey teleports, and he's gone, and Bubby is gone and Dr. Coomer leaves him in the cold dark sewer by himself.

Tommy cried.

Burying his head in his coat, he cried hard and long, alone on the rocky floor.

And then Mr. Freeman crawls out of the pipe, and Tommy can't help it, he holds him.

Gordon reeks of sewage and his bloody hand smells of copper but Tommy doesn't care, and alright, maybe that's when Tommy realized he's in love with Gordon too.

Alright, Tommy can deal with that.

Something Tommy can't deal with is the fact that his instincts are going fucking haywire.

Tommy's always been very perceptive when it comes to time, maybe he can't stop time like his father can, but he's definitely got a certain sense of time and reality as it surrounds him.

Being able to reach out and touch and feel certain areas, but not control them, and all of time is wrapped around him like a blanket.

So when the floor crumbles away below them and Benrey and Gordon fall deep into the recesses of Black Mesa's hellscape, Tommy freaks the fuck out.

A deep, inherent concern lays nested in the pit of his mind like a pile of cottonmouth snakes, hissing madly and snarling that something, something, is absolutely wrong with how this is supposed to go.

Tommy has a sinking feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

--

Man, Benrey really hates this place.

The scientists of the Lambda lab asked a simple request of the Science Team- go through the portal to Xen, get rid of the Nihilanth, bring back some weird space shit.

Easy as pie.

Right?

Wrong.

Benrey feels sick, feverish on this planet.

As he follows behind the group, his legs feel leaden and heavy, and he tugs at the collar of his uniform, which feels uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He's sweating, unusually warm beneath his helmet, but shivering as though chilled to his bones.

There's a tug, deep in his torso, pulling him along, but it's a nasty, oppressive feeling that makes his limbs feel like noodles.

He swallows nervously, eyes darting across the fetid, blood colored planet of Xen.

The sour smell clogs his senses, and as they trudge deeper and deeper through the portals, away from the floating rocks with little gravity and past strange barrels of highly toxic looking liquid, the heavy pull in Benrey's chest only grows stronger and more sickly.

They push through a final, puke-green portal, and the feeling inside of Benrey swells to near explosion.

A cave, with jagged and dark stone running up the walls in wicked cracks, a deep red flush to the area.

Water is flooding Benrey's boots, a putrid and decaying smell to the liquid, and it only adds to Benrey's fatigue.

The creature before them could only be the Nihilanth itself, and the very sight sends such a fucking shudder down Benrey's spine.

It's disgusting, twisted and pulsating flesh running down what must be its face, beady eyes in a cadaverous socket.

It looks like a fetus, a failed attempt of termination long after the allotted time.

It speaks, and the chorus of voices that accompanies it gives away the fact that Xen isn't just the planet-

It's the entire race.

"So. The humans have finally decided to be rid of us."

Gordon looks tired, beaten, but pulls himself upward and grunts through the pain of his broken shin.

"Get your video game dialogue out of the way," he says, with a dismissive wave of his gun-hand.

"I'm about done with this alien shit."

The Nihilanth laughs, a hideous and painful sound, and tilts its head in curiosity towards the little group of vagabonds.

"But you have brought us the very thing we need, Mr. Freeman."

Gordon groans in frustration, turning back to his friends with his teeth grinding against eachother.

"Why does it know my name?"

Xens' audience shrieks with delight, and the Nihilanth's barely feasible mouth twists into what can only be guessed as a grin.

"Xen knows everything about you, Mr. Freeman."

Benrey sways on the spot, his boots splashing the strange water, and the scene before him blurs.

"Whadda....what the hell are you..talking about, man?"

Xen's creatures seem to roar with laughter, and beside Benrey, Dr. Coomer throws up his fists protestingly.

"Xen has been all knowing, all seeing since time begun. As we grow, so do our minds, until we are forced to repopulate. Regrow."

Beneath their feet, headcrabs scuttle ominously, causing Tommy to jump backward with surprise.

"But human beings became a problem for Xen. Their flimsy bodies failed, burst open upon integration."

Benrey is only just awake enough to process this.

"The scientists of Black Mesa were so eager to learn of a new planet. So Xen took influence, and under the guise of building a perfect human being, created what Xen needed."

Gordon scoffs, his shoulders shaking as he laughs scornfully.

Xen reacts strongly, a collective hiss rising around them.

"Do not laugh at us, human."

The headcrabs stay at a distance, but raise their pincers and click them menacingly as the Nihilanth's speech continues.

"Xen required a human being who could withstand radiation, a being who could lose blood en mass and not perish."

A sense of dread washes over the Science Team, and Tommy instinctively puts himself in front of Gordon.

Bubby ignites his arms protectively.

"Let me guess," Gordon growls, revving up his minigun limb; "you needed me?"

Xen's creatures wail in joy, and Benrey takes that as a yes, and reaches for his gun, when something big and poisonous and slimy wraps around his ankle.

"Xen requires Benrey."

Benrey yelps as the Nihilanth drags him underneath the water, bubbles of Sweet Voice trailing from his mouth as his back bounces on the cragged floor beneath the surface.

The Nihilanth swings him into the air, and Benrey splutters, ears waterlogged under his helmet, which slips from his head and falls to the ground with a splash, Benrey's short black hair now dripping wet.

"Look at you, our once perfect vessel- a mewling, pathetic dog."

Hung upside down by his ankle, Benrey gasps in pain as Xen shakes him repeatedly, and for a brief, sickening moment, Benrey is forcibly reminded of the Finding Nemo movie Tommy showed him-

He feels like a fish in Darla's little bag.

"Bark, bark, bark but no bite. You were made with Xen's own blood and yet you cannot even protect those you are infatuated with."

With that, the Nihilanth throws him to the far wall, and his skull cracks on the rock.

It doesn't heal, and Benrey slumps down, struggling to stand, his eyesight swimming with tears.

"You think the Freeman human loves you? You cost him a limb. You would be perfect save for your one flaw- you kneel before a man you could kill with no effort, and you beg him to love you as you love him."

Benrey shakes, kneeling, and whimpers as he chokes out a sob, not trying to disguise his tears.

"You truly are nothing."

"No."

The word is tiny, barely audible.

Then again, louder, with a crack of his voice but more than enough power-

"No. You're wrong."

Gordon pulls himself to full height, scowling so deeply the age shows on his face.

"Benrey is everything to us. To all of us, but especially me."

"Y-yeah! We're not afraid of you!" Tommy chimes, and Sunkist howls with approval.

"If you or your alien bitches thought we'd just leave him here, you're just as stupid as you look."

Bubby grins wildly, cracking their neck from side to side, his bright and eager eyes flashing beneath their glasses.

"Don't fuck with the Science Team!" Coomer bellows, and Bubby cheers beside him.

"Now I'm only gonna tell you once," Gordon beams, turning away from his family to draw his gun-hand and point it at Xen's Nihilanth.

"Piss off."

Gordon fires, and the accompanying screams of headcrabs and peeper puppies echo across the cave, and Benrey is overtaken with an aching, sweet feeling he usually associates with Gordon.

It's love.

Benrey smiles fondly as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground and submerges in the murky waters.

--

Benrey wakes up and immediately is struck with a massive goddamn headache.

He closes his eyes and pulls the pillow over his ears, but the pain is there and clearly is not going anywhere, so he's going to have to ask for an aspirin or some shit.

Sitting up makes him so nauseous it's not even funny, so he decides it's not worth it to stand.

A loud snore startles Benrey enough to yelp, and he glances around for the source of the noise.

Sitting hand in hand on the floor, against the wall opposite his bed, are Gordon and Tommy, both bearing signs of wear and both dead asleep.

Gordon is clutching Benrey's helmet so tightly to his shirt it looks uncomfortable, and Tommy is curled protectively around Gordon's shoulders.

They're half dressed, like Black Mesa decided that the HEV suit and a bloody lab coat was not appropriate clothing but also did not have a whole lot of options for back up wear.

Benrey guesses this based on the fact that Gordon's not really wearing pants and Tommy's wearing a t-shirt that says "Birthday Girl".

Something about the fact that they're holding hands hurts Benrey, just a little.

His heart aches for a moment as he remembers the warmth of Gordon's hand and the feeling of a hug from the Beyblade enthusiast who was his best and only friend for a very long time.

Benrey shakes his head, decides he's going to repress it, and yawns.

God, his head hurts.

Benrey figures that if he stands, he's going to trip and probably break something, and since he doesn't trust his regeneration ability right now, he's not risking it.

Instead, he picks up his pillow and heaves it at the two scientists as hard as he can.

Tommy jolts awake, blinking, then smiles widely upon sighting the guard.

"Benrey!!"

Tommy shoots upward, and makes the distance between the wall and the hospital bed in one step, leaving Gordon to slump over and yell in surprise as he hits the floor.

Benrey's pulled into a crushing hug, and he wheezes for Tommy to be gentle.

"S-sorry!" Tommy cries happily, pulling back to take in Benrey's face.

"It's..it's g-good to see you awake."

Gordon stands, still holding the helmet, and wanders over to where Tommy is perched on the edge of the bed.

"You've been out for hours," Gordon adds, gently reaching out with his left hand to ruffle Benrey's hair.

"We were starting to get worried."

Benrey swallows his funny retort for once, instead choosing to spit out some clear blue song in response.

Tommy reads it almost immediately, and excuses himself to get medicine.

Gordon takes his spot on the bed, and just looks over Benrey.

Benrey feels like he's being scrutinized, with Gordon's soft green eyes just roaming over his face.

"Alright. Fucking. Get the questions outta the way," Benrey mumbles irritably, sticking out his tongue.

"I know you're fuckin. Curious about the shit Xen said."

Gordon laughs sweetly, setting the helmet down on the bed next to him and runs his fingers over it fondly.

Benrey takes a note of his new right hand, a grey-black prosthetic that clicks when Gordon moves his knuckles.

"I don't really have any questions," Gordon grins, adjusting his shirt.

"Other than, are you okay?"

Benrey's taken back by this one.

Not only did he cost Gordon his hand and almost his life about thirty billion times, but everyone (including him!) also just found out that Benrey was made with Xen DNA.

He's essentially Gordon's enemy in every sense of the word, and Gordon is asking if he's okay?

"....did the Nihilanth hit your head or somethin', man?? What the hell kinda. Question is that one??"

Gordon's smile softens massively, and it makes Benrey's heart melt into a little puddle in his stomach.

"Benrey, you saved my life a whole shit ton of times back there."

"Yeah, I also almost got you killed," Benrey interrupts, but Gordon doesn't pause.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things while you've been asleep, and I've been talking with Tommy a lot too."

Benrey's happy puddle evaporates into a heavy leaden ball inside of his chest.

"I don't need to hear this, dude."

Gordon looks a little confused, so Benrey keeps going.

"You're. I know you heard the shit Xen said about...."

Benrey pauses, unsure if he wants to say it out loud.

That'll finalize it, forever.

He takes a breath, then with a great effort, says it out loud.

"I love you. Have since we were kids, have since I first met you. Xen was...right. They were fucking right, you're happier with Tommy because he's never hurt you or..fuck. Fuck, man, you don't feel the same and I'm done pushin' it on you. We uhh, clear?"

Gordon covers his mouth with his hand, and for a split second Benrey thinks he's made him cry, but Gordon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting in between giggles.

"B-Benny, you idiot, I am in love with you."

Maybe it's the sudden affectionate nickname, or the fact that Gordon said he loves him.

But Benrey blushes, hard, and pink-to-blue sweet voice bubbles out of his mouth in surprise.

"Whuh?"

Tommy walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and pauses at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, are w-we doing conf-confessions now?!"

Before Benrey can even speak, Tommy drops down beside him and kisses him on the cheek, putting him and Gordon's hands in his own.

Tommy doesn't say it, but Benrey gets the point.

"Fucking- FINALLY!!"

Benrey just might die for real.

Bubby leans in the doorway, a smug grin on his face, elbow resting on Dr. Coomer's shoulder.

"Ah, young love is beautiful!"

Tommy and Gordon laugh cheerfully at Dr. Coomer, and Benrey buries his face sheepishly in the blankets.

--

It takes a few days, but Benrey recovers pretty well from the Nihilanth.

He's thought a lot about what Xen said.

And he's decided that they were very wrong about him.

His love for other people isn't a flaw, it's his best quality.

He can and will protect the people he loves with his life, no matter what.

And he knows that the people he loves will do the same for him.

With time, Gordon learns not to flinch at the sight of his right hand, or gag when he drinks a soda.

Benrey learns to accept hugs and snuggles from Tommy, and figures out the jokes that Gordon likes and doesn't like.

Tommy is always there to patch up Benrey's injuries, and learns better responses that don't involve soda when Gordon needs to vent.

So Benrey feels safe, and knows that he's not the only one who's trying to be better.

Benrey and them are trying, together.

[the-mystic-dragon]

no because i'm still thinking about gorrik. the bug boy. i love him

i will admit- i didn't think much about him at first and was more concerned with other threats going on in season 4 when we first met him but, over time, i have grown to love his character

but i want to write more about his relationship with vraeen for a moment

-

she was skeptical of gorrik and his brother at first, since they were apart of the Inquest and has always felt uncomfortable dealing with that group since she knew what horrors they did to her race. but she was civil, trying to keep her focus clear on the matter at hand with joko.

she did warm up to him throughout season 4 though; with his assistance (and blish as well) to hold off the awakened and help adjust the portal mess up during the fight with joko's commander, she saw an ally- or hopefully a friend, she could trust.

and from there she slowly opened up to gorrik

when she wasn't off doing missions or important work as the commander, she definitely stopped to talk to him about his research. which was one of the ways they absolutely bonded, even though she was the commander who slayed dragons and took down a god, she was still a priory magister.

even when her head hurt if him or taimi had begun to explain the more technical sides of an invention or the research they were doing, she was content to listen.

then when it came to assisting the management of new mount companions like petey and the skyscales, vraeen could barely contain her excitement. there were a few moments where she smiled with him while they were going through the steps in taking care of, truly grateful to partake in the research and learn more about the species.

she gave him a tight hug after losing blish. and once they were alone, she sat with him while they both cried together over the loss. fog (her smokescale), who is normally glued to vraeen's side, curled up next to gorrik to offer him some comfort.

then in season 5, even with all the issues going on in grothmar valley, a slight ping of happiness erupted in her chest when she actually saw gorrik out and about. she didn't let anyone else know that she would stop to check on how he was doing at the farms and help him with the devourer problem.

but when he was in trouble? she didn't even try to be sneaky, she busted in that room and took the charr renegades down without a second thought if it meant gorrik was okay and safe. (she also made sure to grab his data pad of drawings)

just. they are really good friends and i go soft thinking about how their relationship developed from vraeen being the reserved, polite commander to gorrik which shifted into vraeen being able to relax and showcase her true personality with him.

[novelconcepts]

for the prompt, please do dani and jamie with 22 thank you :)

prompt: kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches

Jamie can’t remember the last time she needed someone to tend her cuts and scrapes. Can’t remember, even, the last time she wanted as much from another person. There’s something too vulnerable about holding out an open wound and saying, Here. Please. I can’t do it alone. 

Jamie can do it alone, is the thing. Has done for so long, she’s forgotten what it was to want another person’s skin brushing her own, another person’s eyes concerned for her well-being. It’s become second-nature, pushing all of that aside. How many times has she wandered into the kitchen, a cloth pressed firmly to a torn-open patch of wrist or palm, and scoffed at Owen’s worry? How many times has Hannah strolled into the room to find her bracing an ice pack against a freshly-bruised knee, rolling her eyes heavenward at her own clumsy misfortune? It’s natural, courting injury as she maneuvers the grounds. Almost easier than it should be. 

She’s never wanted anyone to fix it for her. Never trusted, if she’s honest, anyone to have the touch. People are too soft. Too twitchy about doing damage. As if there’s any helping a thing like that.

She’s never wanted it--

But Dani, meeting her in the doorway of the greenhouse, has an expression she’s never seen before. Not open worry, not nauseous distaste--an almost perfect, steady calm. 

“Let me.”

No question mark at the end of the sentence. No hopeful sway to Dani’s hips, no itchy pull of Dani’s fingers along the elbows of her own jumper. Dani’s face is set, determined, almost as though she’s been waiting for this day since the first time their eyes met. 

“No need,” Jamie says, though her head is pounding. Dani is plainly unimpressed. 

“C’mere. Sit down.”

She can’t explain why she obeys; her body seems primed to follow instruction, perhaps as evidence of a concussion. There is a split above her brow where a tumbling branch caught her just right, and privately, she’s relieved--that it was her standing beneath the tree as the wind jerked it out of place, and not one of the kids. Jamie had been quick enough to dodge aside. If it had been Flora, if it had been Miles...

Better me. I can take it.

Dani has a kit in hand, she realizes, lifted from the manor bathroom. Sitting beside Jamie on the sofa, she tears open a single-use alcohol wipe. She hesitates only once, one hand hovering beside Jamie’s jaw; when Jamie nods, that hand takes her chin, fingers splayed gently to tip her head back. 

“Deep breath.”

“I’m fine,” Jamie starts to say, the words hissing out of her when Dani angles the wipe against the edge of the wound. It’s small, thankfully--the branch had been, too, though Jamie knows better than anyone that size is no measure of danger--but the sting clenches her teeth together. She closes her eyes, trying her best to disassemble the pain and piece it back together into a more enjoyable sensation.

Not the burn, but the soft pressure of Dani’s hand on her skin.

Not the throb running a path along her skull, but the warmth of Dani’s breath mingling with her own.

Maybe this isn’t better, she realizes. Maybe it is infinitely worse, fixing on Dani’s knee pressed to her thigh, Dani’s hand cradling her cheek as though she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Her eyes flick open to find Dani leaning close, inspecting the wound with an unflappable composure.  

“It isn’t deep,” she says. “Might scar a little, though.”

“Not my first,” Jamie quips before she can stop herself. Dani’s eyebrows raise, her lips curving in a small smile. 

“You’ve got stories.”

Not a question--and not a pressure, either. Just an easy statement. Sometimes, this is just Dani’s way: neat, straightforward, to the point. Jamie wonders what kind of life shapes a woman this way, to navigate the grip of anxiety one moment and turn utterly steadfast the next. She’d like to know. She’ll never push. Dani is a co-worker, nothing more; the last thing Jamie needs is to go crossing bounds again.

“Thank you,” she says, as Dani fishes out a bandage and some tape. “Didn’t, uh. Didn’t need--”

Dani silences her with another smile, tinged with something so like sadness, it puts any knock on the head to shame. “When I was little,” she says, “I was always getting hurt. I was a clumsy kid, I guess. Fell down a lot--out of trees, off my bike. My dad was always the one to take care of it.”

Jamie says nothing. This is the most Dani’s ever spoken directly to her, and she finds the bounce and curve of her Midwestern accent strangely comforting. 

“He wasn’t really a typical dad that way, I guess,” Dani goes on, gently holding the cotton bandage up to the wound. She reaches down, clasps Jamie’s wrist, eases her up to hold the square in place. “Hang onto that a sec. My dad, he was...softer than other kids’. He always knew how to clean my scrapes without making me cry. Never quite got the hang of that, after--he died when I was eight, I dunno if you knew that--”

Jamie shakes her head. Dani, patiently cutting a strip of tape, shrugs.

“Got sick. Was gone almost before I knew it. And my mom was never...much good at any of that, so I had to learn how to patch myself up. The alcohol was always the worst part. Almost.”

“Almost?” Jamie repeats. Dani is replacing her hand with deft fingers, adhering the bandage with simple efficiency. When she checks a mirror later, she suspects the whole affair will be neat, orderly, perfectly applied. 

“Yeah,” Dani says, leaning back to observe her handiwork. She seems satisfied, piling everything back into the first aid kit, closing it with a click. “Worst part was after. He would always find the best bandaid--something brightly-colored, or with cartoon characters--and then he’d lean over whatever I’d busted open that day, and he’d kiss the spot twice. Once for forgiveness, he always said, to let the skin know he didn’t blame it for bleeding. And once for healing. Two kisses, every time. It felt like magic. I could never...”

She quiets, her smile fading. It’s too easy for Jamie to imagine a small girl with a blonde braid, kissing her own scraped knee after a fall, knowing full-well it wouldn’t be the same. Too easy to imagine Dani at eight--eleven--thirteen, patching herself back together on her own. 

“Well,” Jamie says, clearing her throat. “You left a bit out, then.”

Dani raises her eyes, frowning. “Sorry?”

“Did the patching,” Jamie points out. Her mouth is weirdly dry, her head thundering away. This is, she senses, navigating too close to the brink of something. Friendship, maybe. Or just Dani thinking she’s making fun. And still, she can’t stop herself. “Seems like you forgot the magic.”

Dani hesitates, her hands folded in her lap. She’s picking, Jamie realizes, at one cuticle, nearly enough to tear the skin. 

“Go on, then,” she adds, heartened to see Dani’s grave expression tilting toward the sun. “Forgiveness and healing. Could use a little of both, maybe.”

She doesn’t know what she expects, exactly--even saying this feels like the product of insanity, a crack on the head urging her toward things she’d never normally try--but Dani draws a breath. Folds a hand around the back of her head, fingers sifting into curls. Leans forward.

It hurts, a little, Dani pressing her lips to the bandage, though she knows Dani is being gentle. Hurts a little, and sparks something Jamie hadn’t meant to let in, too. She closes her eyes, Dani’s kiss seeming to scorch. 

“Once for forgiveness,” Dani murmurs, lips brushing the skin of her forehead. Another kiss, sweet and soft and sending an electric charge down her spine. “Once for healing.”

She doesn’t lean back, not right away--her hand is warm, her eyes searching Jamie’s, and for a single beat, Jamie wants to tilt her chin. Coax that gentle kiss to find her lips. Change it all. 

The concussion, she assures herself, responsible for the reckless impulse. Responsible, too, for the thread of disappointment coiling in her stomach when Dani removes her hand, places it back in her lap, shakes her head almost ruefully.

“He was better at it.”

“Maybe,” Jamie says. “But I can be clumsy, too. Stay long enough, you might get enough practice to measure up.”

Dani meets her eyes, looking embarrassed, looking delighted. Jamie rubs the back of her neck, casting around for a way out of this hole she’s dug. 

“Listen to me. Take enough thumps to the head, I’m gonna starting spewing puns like Owen.”

“Oh no,” Dani laughs. “Anything but that.”

She has to go, she explains, back to the kids. Jamie’s welcome to join them--she’s got a game of cards planned, and they could use a fourth. Jamie almost agrees. Almost lets herself follow Dani into the house, her fingers straying mindlessly to brush the fresh bandage sealed with a kiss. 

“Shouldn’t,” she says--to Dani, to herself, to the burgeoning heat in her cheeks as she recalls how gently Dani had pressed her lips to the wound. “Work to be done, y’know.”

Dani nods. “See you at dinner?”

She should say no to that, too. Should go home to her little flat, to the quiet which always makes perfect sense, which never turns up with a first aid kit and assertive hands. 

“Yeah. Dinner.” She’s smiling. Dani, leaning against the doorframe, is, too. 

“No more knocks on the noggin,” she adds with mock-gravity. Jamie snorts, gives a careless little salute. 

“No fuckin’ promises.”

It’s difficult to say what’s harder to ignore, when Dani’s gone and the work rises up to meet her once more. Hard to say which part--the thumping of the headache, or the memory of Dani Clayton’s lips pressed to her forehead--has a greater hold on the rest of her day. No one asks, and she’s honestly relieved. 

If asked, Jamie would insist the headache has won out. If asked, she’d have no other choice.

If asked, Jamie would absolutely lie. 

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unfinished Business ~ Part Eight

WORD COUNT: 4.9K

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood, torture

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part eight of nine of my new Bang Chan series. 

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"I asked you a question, it's very rude not to respond to me." Namjoon snarled at you, you stared up at him through your lashes and licked your lips to remove some of the blood. The taste of blood ran through your tongue and you spat down onto the floor beside his foot, which he didn't like. Blood was dripping from your busted lip and some from a cut near your back that would need some form of stitches, if you ever got out of the warehouse he was keeping you in.

"I won't tell you anything about him." Your voice was laced with poison, and you got another slap across your cheek for speaking to him like that. No one was allowed to speak to him that way, it had been this way from the moment he got you back here. He'd slap, kick, punch and even threaten you with weapons unless you gave him what he wanted from you.

"You know," You spat blood by his feet once more. He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, wanting to know what you had to say to him,

"At least when Chan kept me tied up I was warm." He growled, grabbing onto your face by each cheek he forced you to look at him in the eyes as he spoke to you. You could practically smell what he'd eaten all day and you groaned at him.

"At least have a breath mint if you're going to get this close to me." He gripped onto you tightly and sneered at you. He was pissed that you were trying to act like someone you weren't.

"If you're going to pretend to be tough you better be ready, doll face." He smirked at you, looking over his shoulder at something. There was the sound of a blow torch turning on and your face was forced to look in the direction he'd been looking in.

"A nice red hot poker for the pretty skin of yours, I'm sure Chan will love you all marked up." You tried to kick your legs at him, but you were tied down to the chair, so it wasn't as if you could go anywhere or do anything to him.

"Talk or I start burning." You stared at him, holding your ground. He'd done nothing but ask you questions about Chan since the moment he got you there, he wanted you alive so you knew you were safe for now. You hadn't slept or eaten anything for god knows how long and you didn't even know if Chan was going to come looking for you. Your mind just kept going back to the night before when he left you there, alone, and abandoned without protection. He'd promised to look after you.

"I can give you whatever he was giving you, money, power, anything. Name it and it'll all be yours...He's not going to come back for you sweetie." His voice was strapped with a condescending tone, so you spat more blood on the floor beside his foot. Sharp pain rushed across your cheek as he slapped you across the face with the back of his hand, cutting it with a ring he had on.

"He's not going to come back," Your face was once again in his hands as he forced you to look at him,

"He left you there," Another slap across your face, knocking your head limply from side to side,

"He let me find you," Another slap on the other side of your cheek, you coughed up some blood you'd swallowed and he grabbed your cheeks once again. A sharp pain ran through you as he gripped each cheek where he had been slapping with his ring covered fingers,

"One last chance before I go hard on you, where is he?" You stared into his eyes before looking down at the floor, not wanting to give up anything on Chan. He'd already been through so much with Namjoon killing his wife, you weren't about to make him lose everything he'd worked towards.

"Oh I get it," Namjoon started laughing loudly and he dropped your face as he knelt down in front of you. You avoided his eyes as he started laughing even harder,

"You've fallen in love with the monster. Oh little dove," He kept laughing and sniggering as he stared at you, all of his men laughing along with him as they stared at you,

"Can you believe it guys? The little one has Stockholm syndrome." You hissed at him as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip where he'd busted it open,

"He's a monster darling-"

"HE IS NOT!" You screamed at him, lunging so hard that the chair fell forward catching Namjoon in the leg.

"Bitch!" He cried out, slapping you across the face once again only this time everything snapped into black.

"I said find her and I meant it," Chan growled as he stared down at his desk, he had countless photographs of you and him together. All of them taken from the night before when you had been on your date. Including some when he was making love to you in the gardens.

"We're trying but it's hard, she tried to get back here last night but from the tracks on the road it looks like someone-"

"Not someone! Namjoon! Namjoon got her and I want her found now!" His fist slammed against the desk so hard it knocked over the drink he had on his desk, he didn't care that it was spilling onto the floor. He didn't care that he hadn't slept in a day all he cared about was trying to find you before something bad happened.

Why did he have to leave you there?! He should have just stayed there with you and let you say what you wanted to say instead of running away scared, he should have stuck to the plan with Changbin. The plan to take you out and show you off, make sure to grab the attention of Namjoon and have a public date right? He was just supposed to leave you there for an hour or so and come back to Namjoon being there with you, but after the words left your mouth he just ran.

"I think I have it," Changbin said as he walked into the room, Chan came out of his daydream to look at Changbin. His hair was pushed back and he hadn't changed from the suit he'd worn the night before, he'd be working harder than anyone else - besides Chan -  since it had been his plan in the first place.

"Show me," He laid out floor plans of an old building Namjoon had bought under a fake name, and he'd been there that morning to get thermal images of the inside of the building.

"It's got to be her, look." He circled where a bunch of people seemed to be hiding in one spot, but it was far too obvious for it not to be some kind of trap set up by Namjoon. But right now all Chan cared about was getting you out of there before something could happen to you.

"Get your guns and get extra ammo if you want it, let's go."

"Chan I think we should-" Jisung tried to talk to him about coming up with some kind of plan,

"I said let's go! I'm not letting her go!" Jisung nodded, he knew that and he wasn't suggesting that he was suggesting going in with a plan instead of just running in without some kind of plan.

"You're going to tell me everything I need to know." Your hands were chained above your head on a hook as you were being knelt on the floor. Your knees were cut up as they dragged along the harsh flooring that was inside there.

"I'm not going to tell you anything," You repeated, looking at Namjoon who groaned, rolling his eyes at you. He wiggled the chains to make sure they were secure and that you couldn't get out of them.

"You're going to have to talk at some point, he's not going to come back so you might as well talk to me now." You stayed silent and he sighed, dropping to his knees and squatting onto the floor in front of you,

"I'm going to tell you what I did to his pretty little wife, all of those beautiful details he probably left out," He said as he picked out his gun and cocked it back - you'd seen him loading it less than 20 minutes ago so you knew it was real,

"You're going to be a good little girl and listen to me," He placed the gun on your temple to make sure you knew he was serious about this. You looked at him, giving away no sign that you were terrified of him even though on the inside you were crying and screaming to get away from him.

"He went away on some trip and she was home alone, we broke in and we took her just like I took you last night." You swallowed the lump that was starting to form and you nodded along to what he was saying, not wanting him to shoot you, he was clearly unstable.

"We took her to my place where I chained her up just like this." He uncocked the gun and put it down out of your reach, before he took out a blade from his jeans.

"Then, when she didn't give me what I wanted we tortured her for a week until he came home and then we left her on the floor for him to find," He started laughing loudly, you felt your eyes well up at the thought of Chan walking in and finding his wife on the floor like that,

"Gutted her like a fish and left her on the carpet, you should have seen the look on his face when he found her. That was before he moved of course, so we're going to have to find somewhere to put you where he can find you." You threw yourself at him, but the hook of the crane you were being held on yanked you backwards, scraping your legs across the floor creating burns on your knees and shins from the dress.

"Ooo angry, I love it. You must really love him huh? To get angry at me for something I did to his wife?" The blade was being held against your neck with the blade just touching your skin, barely cutting it but just enough to draw some blood.

"Don't think for one second that I wouldn't do this to you, because I will darling, I just want a little something from you first." He threw you forwards onto your knees again, before one of his men came up and tried to play a gag into your mouth. You were making it difficult by moving your head and biting them whenever they got to close.

"They're on their way sir," Your eyes widen as you realised that Chan was on his way, and this was all some kind plan to get him in here so Namjoon could kill him.

"I'll give you whatever it is you want just don't hurt him, please." You begged, looking at Namjoon willing to do anything to save Chan from any harm. But it was too late, the gag was placed into your mouth to stop you from talking and you whimpered, watching him get into his car and tell everyone to leave except for one of the men, Jungkook. The boy nodded, looking at you as Namjoon got into his car and pulled out of the warehouse. Jungkook pulled out his gun getting it ready for any kind of fight Chan might put up.

"He doesn't mean it, he's just-" You stared at Jungkook to stop him from speaking bullshit about his boss. Namjoon and his men had all driven off an hour ago, your arms were numb from the restraints. All you wanted to do was go home to Chan and sleep everything away like it was some kind of bad dream.

"You're sure she's here? We've been here for an hour!"  Chan's voice yelled out as he walked through the halls of the giant warehouse to find you. The place had been like a maze to get into but there was one clear exit at the back. You looked at the door as you heard hushed tones. Jungkook's hand was on his gun and you started screaming under the gag to try and make sure they could hear you, trying to warn them that you weren't alone. None of this made any sense though since your voice was muffled. Namjoon knew that Chan would bring all seven of his men, so why would he then leave only one behind? It had to be some kind of trap set up to get Chan.

"Y/N!" Chan breathed seeing you knelt there. There was a quick shot and Jungkook was down on the floor bleeding from his shoulder, while Seungmin and Felix went to chain him up. You began crying heavily as Chan rushed over to you and lowered you down from the hook, your chained hands fell around his neck as you cried into him.

"They left an hour ago, you have to get out of here it's a trap." You sobbed to him and he started chuckling as he picked you up from the floor.

"A trap is what we were hoping for, get him in the car." You frowned as he began hurrying you out of the building and towards the cars that they'd come in,

"Y/n you're driving, I need to get some answers out of this one." All of the cars were identical with identical number plates, which meant he was trying to confuse Namjoon and the other boys.

"Changbin, you head east, Jisung and Minho I want you in the North, boys just drive around where they can see you but in opposite directions." They all got into their cars and Chan undid the ropes from around your wrist before handing you the keys.

You'd been driving for an hour in a circle, you had no idea where you were going, you just kept driving as Chan told you to. By the time you'd circled around again Jungkook had a bloody nose - you were pretty sure it was broken and his lip was burst in several places making it look like one big bloody mess just like your face.

"C-Chan maybe that's enough-"

"Enough?! They took you! Where did Namjoon go?!" He snapped punching Jungkook in the gut, he wasn't angry with you, he was mad at himself for going along with the plan. You flinched looking up at the road again, instead of in the mirror at Chan in the back of the car. You knew why he was doing this but it didn't make it any easier for you to watch it happen.

"C-Chan?" You stuttered, seeing headlights coming straight towards you. They were driving on your side of the road at a fast pace, so whoever it was clearly wasn't planning on moving any time soon.

"Seatbelt." You warned him, as you shifted into sixth gear and pushed your foot down onto the floor. He scrambled to put his seatbelt on, watching through the window in horror as you headed straight for the headlights before swerving at the last second drifting slightly. Your backend clipping into their car, spinning them out to the side of the road and so you began turning the car around to face them again. You slammed on the handbrake and brakes to stop yourselves from rolling into the ditch at the side of the road and Jungkook was out cold in the back from hitting his head so much.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Chan asked, watching as you slipped it back into gear and started revving the engine.

"I like the fast and furious movies," Never in a million years did you think it would ever work but everything was worth a shot. Looking at the car you realised it began to head towards you again so you panicked telling Chan who it was,

"It's Namjoon, or one of his men we have to get out of here Chan." The car in front of you began revving so much that exhaust was pouring out of the back of the car.

"Drive back to the warehouse, I'll text the guys." You slammed the car into reverse and began driving backwards instead of heading right up to their car. Having no idea what Chan's plan was, you followed his orders getting back onto the main road and driving normally.

"Give it up." Jungkook mumbled drooling blood down onto the floor behind your seat. He'd woken up about twenty minutes into your drive and began telling you how dumb this plan was, that you wouldn't get away from Namjoon. You pushed the brakes when you saw Namjoon standing in the doorway to the warehouse from before, the four cars that had begun tailing you blocked you at every exit point. You shut off the engine, throwing the keys onto the floor to give yourself an easy give up to him.

"Y/n-" You didn't let Chan finish talking, you just got out of the car and put your hands up.

"What do you want Chan so badly for?"

"I just want everything that he's got, the money, the house, the girl, he doesn't deserve it." You walked closer to Namjoon with your hands behind your head. What had Chan ever done to this guy to make him hate him so much? You only knew about property takings and drug deals but nothing warranted killing his wife.

"If you get it will you leave him alone?" He shrugged his shoulders,

"Possibly." You needed a definite answer before you gave yourself away to save Chan. You needed him to be safe. Even if he didn't love you back, you still loved him and you do what you can to protect the ones you love.

"I want your word." You demanded and Namjoon held his hand on his heart while holding up the other in the air.

"I promise I won't harm a single hair on his head if you come with me." You looked down at the ground before over your shoulder at Chan. Who was begging you not to leave him as he got out of the car, several guns being aimed at him as soon as he did.

"Then let him leave." Namjoon nodded his head, all six of his men stood down and Chan rushed to your side holding onto your hand. He was begging you not to do it in silence, looking into your eyes, he'd only just gotten you back he couldn't lose you now.

"It saves you, just leave okay? I'm out of your hair now, I'm gone. You don't have to worry about last night or anything, I'll be fine." He cupped your face in his hands, looking deep into your eyes trying to search for any sign that you wanted him to rescue you, but your eyes were dead. It was like someone had shut off the light behind them and you weren't you anymore, not the one he'd fallen for anyway, but you had to be this way. You had to come across as cold to be able to let him go so he could be safe.

"Y/n, come on now dear." Namjoon purred, and you sniffled looking into Chan's eyes and mouthing goodbye as you walked over to Namjoon.

Everything happened far too quickly, you and Namjoon had been walking towards the warehouse where his car was waiting. When gunshots began to sound, being fired in every direction, Namjoon was on the floor next to you bleeding out from his leg as whoever got him shot him close to one of the main arteries. He began whimpering and coughing up blood onto the floor beside him so you moved away,

"Y/N GET DOWN!" You dropped to the floor upon hearing Chan's voice in a panic, he was freaking out after he heard the shots being fired. Changbin and the rest of the boys all came to find you once they never got a call from Chan to signal an all clear, you scrambled to hide behind something that was in the warehouse and Chan lost you in the fight. Guns were firing too quickly for you to even hear anything that was being yelled.

"Changbin?" You questioned, as he came over to you to make sure you were okay. He shot off directly behind you, causing a body landing next to your feet, you tried not to scream as you saw Jungkook on the floor dead. Changbin looked at you and smiled sadly as he realised you were scared.

"Sorry for leaving you there-" He shot off again and you screamed holding your hands over your ears, the guns being too loud for you.

"Y/n?!" Chan sounded panicked, but you stood up once the shooting stopped. The only thing filling the air was the sound of whimpering, he smiled at you rushing to your side. Everyone that had been working for Namjoon was on the floor either dead or in serious need of some medical attention,

"You okay? I heard you scream." His hands were turning your head from side to side to look at the marks Namjoon had left you with earlier. You shook your head promising him that you were fine and that Changbin had just scared you by shooting someone from behind you.

"Are you okay?!" You asked, looking at him as he cupped your face in his hands, he bent down to kiss you when another shot rang out through the air. The room seemed to fall into a deathly silence as Chan sank down to the floor knees first as he dropped his gun,

"C-Chan?!" You panicked, kneeling down beside him his white shirt was covered in blood as the bullet had ripped through his body and came out of the other side. It had hit his kidney and something else causing him to bleed out profusely.

"CHANGBIN!!" You shrieked at him to come over to you, you had no idea what to do but he was the closest one to you and he had just shot the person who had shot Chan. Your hands were pressing down on the bullet wound Chan had, Jisung rushed over to you, pushing your hands down on him as well. Applying pressure to a wound was the best option, but blood was sputtering out between your fingers.

"I know it hurts but we have to keep-" You tried to tell him it would be fine as long as you kept the pressure on it.

"It's not hurting Y/n." Even as he was dying he wasn't whimpering or crying, he just accepted that this was happening.

"J-Jisung what's happening?" You whimpered when the blood kept pouring out, it must have hit the main artery for it to be bleeding this badly and this quickly just like Namjoon on the floor.

"Get an ambulance!" You screamed at Jeongin, who was now hovering above his leader who was struggling to breathe now. Jisung kept the pressure on Chan as Chan weakly took your hands into his and stared at you.

"It's okay to love me you know, please love me." Your eyes teared up as he begged you to love him, as if you weren't already madly in love with him.

"I do love you Chan, which is why you have to stay with me, come on. CHANGBIN! AMBULANCE!" You screamed, but Chan's hand on yours tightened as he tried to get your attention back on him/ He wanted you to focus on just him, he stared into your eyes as you began to sob heavily.

"Don't cry, hey. You're way too pretty to be crying." You sniffled as he reached his hand up shakily and ran his thumb under your eye.

"I'm madly in love with you Chan okay, so you're not allowed to die on me." He choked on some of the blood that was coming up into his mouth as he tried to laugh about it, and blow it off as if this was nothing.

"I love you too." His eyes travelled off behind you and you saw the light leave his eyes. You shook your head trying to shake him to bring him back, Jisung moved his hands away so he wasn't applying pressure anymore.

"You have to keep the pressure on!" You yelled, holding down onto the wound as you tried to keep Chan alive. But Jisung pulled you away from his body, as you kicked your legs trying to get closer to him again, he struggled to keep you back.

"He's gone Y/n, he's gone." He whispered, moving you away as you screamed, wiggling around as you tried to run over to him. You were covered in his blood and watched in horror as Changbin covered his body up with a blazer, looking at Jisung shaking his head to declare that Chan was gone.

"Get her back to the house, get her cleaned up we'll take care of this." Minho walked over to Jisung and helped him to get you into the car, since you were still screaming with tears gushing down your cheeks. It was a struggle as you continued to try and free yourself out of their hands, yelling and crying about wanting to be with Chan instead of back at the house alone, you didn't want to go home without him.

"There's a problem," Changbin said as you sat in the office, you were staring down at the photographs of Chan as they all spoke about that night. You were still sitting there in the dress that was covered in his and your blood, they'd tried to get you to shower but you wouldn't move.

"Namjoon can't be found, we think he got away when Chan got shot." You frowned looking at him, you could remember Namjoon on the floor clear in your head. He was right next to you when he went down, he had to be dead or Chan would have died for nothing.

"I saw him on the floor." You whispered, looking up at Changbin who just shook his head.

"Not dead." He whispered, you let out a sob as you looked over at the door to see Minho and Jeongin walking into the room. You'd wanted it to be Chan but it wasn't, it was clear they'd both been crying though as they wiped their eyes.

"Everything will be ready for the funeral, just like he'd ordered." You looked at them and swallowed the lump in your throat.

"He had all of this stuff planned?" They nodded and you wiped your eyes on your hands when you saw the blood, it was starting to sink in now that he was gone.

"You should get some sleep," Changbin stated, coming over to you and helping you stand up from the giant chair. He walked you towards your room but you shook your head not wanting to be in there tonight or any night ever again.

"I want to sleep in his bed." You whimpered, walking to the door and opening it. The room was freezing and dark, so you flicked the switch on lightening up the room as you looked inside; everything was just how he'd left it that morning as if he was coming home any minute.

"I'll leave you to it." The door shut and you walked further inside going over to his en-suite to have a shower, you had to get out of the dress that was covered in his blood and wash everything off from that night. You stripped down, throwing it into a basket and stepped into the hot water. The floor of the shower turned red and you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, as you realised it was Chan's blood more than your own.

You climbed into the bed after your shower, wearing one of his white work shirts and stared around the room, it felt empty without him being there next to you. The night before had been so peaceful even if it was when you rushed into the room scared of the storm, he was there which was what made it better than the cold dark room you were in now. You arranged the pillows so it would be as if he was there and you snuggled down into them and cried softly as you could smell him still on the sheets, at least you still had his smell for now. 

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @moonprincessdiviniation​ (my wonderful editor who wants me dead) @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @hugs4chan​ @ncitythoughts @inseonqt​ @cloudsgathering​ @atletino​ @mischiefmakerliesmith5​ @freckledquokka​ @happygirl327​ @seraplantery​ @km-98​

[amintyworld]

Wilbur's Crows - A Dream SMP Drabble

A/N: Have a little fluff for the soul, featuring Phil's Chat! - Minty

TW: Crying? (Lmk if I need to tag anything else!)

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

Sunrise bled through the white curtains, slowly melting away the peaceful starry night into a new day. Creatures stirred out of their slumber, and monsters retreating back to the darkness from whence they came, a few slowly turning to ash and bust. The smell of burning flesh ran potent through the forest, a smell that meant safety to those living within, a smell they were more than used to, blind to. The ground began to warm under the sun's gaze, the cool breeze of night turning to warmth. A warm hug mother nature gave to her children, easing them away from dreamland.

Beside a window, a crib rocked slightly back and forth as a breeze blew through the room. A messy brown-haired tyke held a teddy bear protectively to his chest, sleeping soundly. The light growing brighter behind his eyes, he shifted uncomfortably. Finding no relief, a noise of annoyance rose from his throat as he buried his face into the stuffed animal.

Swiftly, hearing the distress, a few black crows landed on the windowsill overlooking the three-year-old. Some brandished shiny necklaces they wore as a badge of honor. Some were simply bare. A crow to the left of the other two put down a shiny glimmering rock from its beak down by its feet, putting the gift aside for now. Looking to the side, the left crow could see the one on the far right putting down a large chunk of a diamond before the one in the middle met its gaze. Together, all three stared down at the toddler in concern for a moment as the small human squirmed, his chest heaving in breath like he was about to cry.

The two crows looked to the right one with the badge, wondering what they should do. The right one hopped over toward the headboard of the crib, taking in the child. Then, they let out a loud call. "Caw!" The loud noises made the small human's eyes snap open to see a black crow staring down at him, cawing. "Caw! Caw!"

The other two chimed in occasionally, adding to the caw-rus. That was, until the toddler in both annoyance and a little fear clutched his teddy closer and began to cry. The two on the windowsill looked at each other in panic - something was wrong with the small human, it was crying! - and began to caw louder to draw the attention of their owner.

As the door creaked open, all crows silenced, watching their owner as he entered. Watching for any sign of what he wanted them to do. The blonde locks fell a little past his shoulders, with kind blue eyes. He approached the child, reaching his hand down and gently brushing any hair out of his son's face. "Shh, it's okay mate, everything's okay..." When the child's eyes met his father's he silenced, simply looking up at him. Phil smiled as he moved to pick him up, holding the toddler against his hip. Wilbur's grip failed on the teddy during the transition, dropping on the ground as the left-sided crow flew down to try and grab it, flapping its wings wildly to get the surprisingly heavy stuffed animal in the air. Phil let out a warm chuckle as he kneeled down to take it, the crow backing off. After the small child got settled in his arms, he raised a finger to his lips and kissed it, pressing it to his son's nose as he giggled. "There's the Wilbur I know." Phil cooed.

Turning toward the window, his crows looked on silently, wanting to help but unsure as of how. "He's okay, Chat. Wilbur's okay." The caws returned in relief at the statement, breaking the somewhat silence. The crow with the necklace flew over toward Wilbur, trying to land on Phil's shoulder before the tyke waved his arms in protest and annoyance.

"Caw!"

"Caw!" Wilbur mimicked. "Caw!"

Phil chuckled at his son's outburst, trying his best to sound stern. "Now Wil, we don't wanna try to hurt Chat, do we?"

As Wilbur turned to face his father as he talked, the crow in question changed course, landing on top of Wilbur's head with a "caw". Phil tried to hold back his laughter at it all as the door creaked once more, someone else entering the room. Their voice was warm like Phil's but soft, comforting. "So I'm guessing Wilbur's okay?"

"Yeah, just a little grumpy this morning," Phil answered.

"Mumza!" A crow chanted.

She walked further into the room, behind her husband, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Hm, I wonder where he gets it from..." She teased. Phil turned to face his wife with a smirk, leaning over to give her a proper kiss on the lips. As Wilbur moved closer, he could see a silver glint around her neck.

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

"Uhm, Wilbur..." Ranboo began as he looked up from the crafting table and out the window of their van. "Wilbur they're here again."

Wilbur sighed from his spot on the hammock, arm over his eyes. "You've gotta be joking. I told him to stop sending them!"

"Honestly? I don't think he has any control over them, they just kinda... do what they want." Ranboo shrugged.

Grumbling, frustrated, Wilbur marched out of the door of his burger van and toward the thousands of black crows lining the trees of the surrounding forest. A few brandishing those unmistakable necklaces, he knew exactly whose crows these were. He told Phil multiple times he was fine. He told Phil multiple times he didn't need a babysitter and that he wanted to change. Phil told him multiple times that he trusted him.

Ha, 'Trusted him'. He was sending in his fucking bird surveillance!

If scaring them didn't work, talking to them didn't work...

He pulled out a water bucket from his inventory, the murder of crows staring down at him as he stared up at them. "This is your final fucking warning, go away!"

Spinning he launched the water into the air as it came splashing down on top of the tree. Caws rang out amongst the forest as a few gave up and flew away, but the rest simply flapped their wings and flew a little higher, soaking wet... and mad.

"Oh Shit."

Wilbur's eyes widened as a murder of crows flew toward him as full speed, knocking him over onto the grass. Their talons caught on his skin and clothes, scratching and leaving him sore. Blinded by a sea of feathers and black, Wilbur struggled to his feet, coughing out a few feathers that landed in his mouth before finally getting his bearings, the murder traveling to settling on top of the van. After shaking himself free of feathers, guilt weighed on his heart - they were only following their owner, after all.

"Look, I'm sorry Chat. I... I didn't mean to hurt you, I... uhm..." Wilbur sighed. "I just don't like being watched, okay?" As Wilbur turned to leave, he heard the fluttering of wings and saw the crows surround his feet, one perched on his head and one on each shoulder. He mustered a bit of an awkward smile - it was strange that he was literally talking to birds. His father's birds, but still. "Thanks, Chat."

Walking off deeper into the forest, Wilbur could hear the flapping of wings behind him, and found himself smiling. Maybe it had some weird psychological effect from trying to run them off his property for almost a week straight... but his father's crows were growing on him.

They settled wherever he went as he worked collecting wood and finding some cows to bring back, the flapping always a telltale sign. One always liked settling on top of his head, and after a few hours, Wilbur allowed it. Chat was a silent presence, but not an unwelcome one to Wilbur, who didn't have many friends besides Ranboo to hang around.

As the day came to a close, he walked back toward the van. "I'm guessing I'll see you all tomorrow, then?" He got a few caws in response as the murder took off into the sky and over the horizon, back towards his father's home in the artic. One crow remained - the one perched in his brown curls. "Go on then, you'll see me tomorrow after all." Wilbur gestured toward the others. "And please learn to listen to Phil, okay? You guys could've gotten yourselves lost trying to find me."

The crow landed on Wilbur's outstretched arm, and for the first time, Wilbur could see the crow had something in its beak. A grand silver necklace with a black stone pendant, that shimmer silver in the sunset's glow. Wilbur's eyes narrowed, scanning it. "Is... Is this...?" He looked up toward the crow, who let out a caw and flew away.

Wilbur ran his finger over the pendant that he'd never seen before, and yet he felt like he'd known it his whole life.

Mom.

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

General Writing Tagging List (Let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

The Scar

Requested by the awesome @gothicsprinkles who wanted funny and soft and only got... embarrassment instead xD Forgive me!

-

It’s really warm so Corin doesn’t bother wearing his shirt to bed. He knows he will have a human Mandalorian heater attaching himself to Corin the second they settle for the night and if he’s going to get any sleep with Din doing that in this kind of temperature, Corin has to wear as few layers as possible.

After a quick check on the little bean, sound asleep in his crib, Corin crawls into bed and settles next to where Din is propped up by pillows and is waiting to attack.

He’s not wearing his armor, only his helmet and the layers of regular clothing, feeling secure in the bosom of the Covert, and it’s nice to see him somewhat relaxed for a change. It would be even nicer to see him entirely relaxed in just a t-shirt and sweatpants like Corin usually wears to bed, but Corin knows not to press his good luck. This is good. It’s more than enough.

To Corin’s surprise, Din doesn’t just attach himself to him like a shady rumor, but lies on his side, removes his right glove and reaches out to draw light fingertips over the scar left by a blaster shot that should have claimed Corin’s life but ended up saving it in countless ways instead.

Corin sucks in his stomach a little, despite knowing he’s never been in better shape in his life. He just can’t help it.

“You were a Trooper for so many years,” Din mumbles, his touch light on the scar and soon trailing over his abs, “how is it that you have so few scars?”

Looking down at his own torso, Corin knows the answer but he’s not proud of it. “At first, I had good luck and… friends on my side. That kept me safe most of the time.” He holds out his arm and shows a barely visible scar, a really faint line across his upper arm. “I did take a shot to the arm once, though.” Corin lowers his arm and places his hand on Din’s back instead. “After they… After that, I just made sure not to be at the front wherever we were sent. There were plenty of young idiots like me looking to make a name for themselves and play the hero, I just let them. They were the ones who got the scars. Or got killed. I just focused on getting my ass transferred to the Blizzard  Force.”

Din’s helmet nods thoughtfully.

“What’s the scar on your back from?” Corin asks, having seen and noticed it earlier when they… well, he’d noticed it.

“Oh, that.” Din gives a quiet, amused laugh. “Well, it was my third bounty job and-”

His life as a Mandalorian has left Din with a whole bunch of scars and one crazy story after another to go with them. Corin goes from smothering laughter behind a hand to staring with horrified wonder at how this man is still alive.

“What about that one?” Corin eventually asks, reaching out and pulling Din’s sleeve up a little to reveal a thin, modest scar on his underarm.

“That? That’s nothing. Nothing at all. Ignore that one.” Din tugs his sleeve down and covers it back up. He turns to trail fingertips over Corin’s scar in silence.

At first, Corin’s gut instinct is to apologize, thinking he’d overstepped and accidentally uncovered some painful memory, but then his brain points out how there had been no hurt or defensiveness to Din’s voice. No, it has sounded more like… embarrassment?

Corin’s curiosity sits up and pays attention.

“Din…” Corin drawls, sliding his hand up from Din’s back to gently squeeze the man’s neck and has him arching into the touch with a faint sound of approval. “Din, tell me about the scar on your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” Din mumbles. Definitely embarrassed!

“Come on…” Corin whines playfully, shaking Din a little by the scruff. “Tell meeeeeee…”

Din answers by manhandling Corin over on his side so Din can curl up behind him and hold him tight, too tight to squirm away. “I told you, it was nothing. Sleep now. You’re tired.”

“I’m not tired. Tell me about the scar on your arm, Din Djarin.”

“Shhhhh.” Din shushes him and when Corin lifts his head to glare back at him, Din shoves it back down against the pillow. “Shhhhhh.”

Fine. Din wins the battle, but he has not won the war.

-

Paz has picked his laser cannon apart and is cleaning each piece with as much affection as he shows Raga. He glances up with mild surprise when Corin sits down next to him in the common area. “What do you want?”

Corin glances over and sees Din is busy talking to aforementioned Raga by the door and decides to go for it. “Din has a scar on his right arm. His underarm. Do you know how he got it?”

Several things happen at once. Paz sits up straight, Din makes a startled sound and bolts towards them, and Raga trips Din.

Corin hears Din’s impact with the ground, his furious shout when Raga holds him down with a painful knee to his lower back and the frankly scary strength of her arms, but his focus is on Paz who draws a long and deep breath like a man about to tell a story worth hearing.

“He hasn’t told you about that, has he?” Paz says, reaching out and placing an oil-covered and heavy hand on Corin’s shoulder. “Allow me.”

“Paz, I will shoot you in the face!” Din shouts.

“Is that any way to talk to your brother?” Raga tuts and shoves his helmet down, visor first, to smack against the floor.

“I was fifteen when I got my first jetpack and my father started training me.” Paz sounds nostalgic, before giving a faint shake of his helmet and sighing as he gestures towards Din. “Back then, Din was a little twig who had yet to take the Creed and he was ‘not’ happy about that.”

Din tries to buck Raga off but can only bite back a pained, but mostly angry, sound when she digs her knee in deeper and wrings one of his arms.

“So, one night,” Paz continues, sliding his arm around Corin’s shoulders and maneuvering him over to sit next to him so they both can look at Din, “the little womp rat decided he was going to grab my jetpack and show everyone how he was a natural talent at flying. That he was as good as the older children.”

Corin struggles against a smile. “Is that so?”

Even Raga cackles as she has to grab Din’s other arm as well to keep him pinned down when he struggles even harder to free himself.

“Indeed.” Paz says. “The brat wormed his way into my room, grabbed my jetpack, went into the hallway and put it on. That pack was designed for me, not his baby-ass, which meant that when he activated it at full throttle, it went as well as you can probably imagine.”

Corin is losing the fight against not laughing.

“I woke up to his scream growing fainter as he zoomed down the hallway.” Paz says. “I ran out and saw jetfire and his tiny feet as they blew around a corner and I ‘knew’ what had just happened. I chased after him. If he had been keeping a steady course, I would never have been able to catch up, but lucky for both of us; Din managed to bump into every door, both walls and occasionally the ceiling as he raced down the hallway. Screaming his head off. Eventually I caught up with him in one of the training rooms that had been left open and he decided to end his journey by flying smack up into the corner of the room and get stuck in one of the climbing ropes up there.”

“By now the grown ups are gearing up and preparing for battle because they think we’re under attack.” Raga supplies with glee.

Din gives up fighting and just drops his helmet, visor first yet again, to the floor with a thump.

“Din was bawling, the adults were freaking out, so it was up to me to save the day.” Paz’ voice is brimming with obnoxious delight. “I climbed up there, managed to untangle the little idiot and got him ‘and’ my jetpack down. Luckily his thick head hadn’t suffered too much during his rodeo, but he had busted up his arm pretty good. He was wailing so loud it took about two minutes before Davarax found us and he wasn’t happy.” A fond laughter. “He had to explain to the rest of the Tribe it had only been an illegal jetpack joyride, not an actual invasion by outsiders, while I had to bring the troublemaker to the bone-setter and wipe snot and tears off that face of his.”

Din is thumping his helmet regularly against the floor before he suddenly lifts his t-visor to glare at Paz. “I hate you.”

Paz stares at Din for a heartbeat and a half, then turns his t-visor to Corin. “Has he told you about his first dancing lesson?”

“PAZ!” Din’s bellow echoes through the entire building.

[kth1]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Pi-quant / adjective: having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavor.

⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, sub!jungkook/whiny lil thing, vamp!jk, oral (M&F), fingering, blood/blood play, biting, period blood, noona kink, adult content, bondage(M), unprotected sex, language, semi overstimulation, semi cock-warming, creampie, squirting, roommates to ?, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 12k ⟶ Summary: Jungkook is your awesome roommate who also happens to be a vampire. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, even with the playful tactics he does to fluster you. Until you realize those quipping taunts meant more than he led on. ⟶ Teaser: “He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.” ⟶ Author’s note: Hello everyone, this story is a precious gift to @jkeuphoriadreamland​ – as Yoly fully enjoys a bit of a whiny brat version of Jungkook. And NOONA KINKS. I tried my best to write him as a sub, and I truly hope you enjoy this fic. Nervous as all hell because you are a wonderful, glorious writer; and gifting you a fic of my own makes me kasdjhf. Anyways, this is unedited bc reasons - I had fun being your Peach Peep and writing this for you! (I didn’t mean to make it as long as it did… oops. xoxo)

“You smell pretty tasty.”

“Well, I’m not!” You retorted.

“Let me have a quick taste? That’s all I’m asking for.” Jungkook requested.

“Koo, no! You have plenty of bottles of blood in the fridge – just heat some up.”

Jungkook snorted with disgust, “Tch, that blood is synthetic. It’s not as good as straight from the source.” His finger trailed up the inside of your wrist, his body taking a step closer to yours.

You snatched your wrist back to yourself quickly, glaring up at your pest of a roommate. “Oh no no no – Jeon! You stop that!” Jungkook took another step, a grin present on his sculpted face. You respond with a pointed finger, raising your eyebrows in question. He wanted to play this game again.

“But Noona, please!” He whined with a pout. The vowels drawing out with the sentence with a childish tone, but his eyes shared something deep and dark. Thirst.

“I am not your bloodbag Jeon Jungkook!” your accusatory finger now prodding his chest.

“True, you’re not. But you are my friend.” He smiled, cupping your hands in his, “friends help another out.” He let out a little giggle when he saw your flustered face.

You scoffed, laughing as your roommate continued to plea. “You don’t need help! You have blood in the kitchen! B negative to be exact. It’s a fresh stock!” You shooed him, ushering him to turn around and pushing him towards the opening of the kitchen.

“Noona!” he droned again.

Oddly enough, Jungkook adored using this nickname towards you. Even though he is a hundred and something years older than you, his ripened age of vampire is in his early twenties – when he was changed into one, he found it humorous to call you Noona because your human years have surpassed his frozen age. Thus resulting, in his mind, you being ‘older’ than him. That, and the fact you get flustered up over the nickname.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your pesky little vampire friend could overpower you at any second if he really wanted to, but there was a firm alliance between the two of you. He has control over his hunger after all, he’s not a savage. Just because Jungkook is a vampire doesn’t mean he was a monster. For years vampires have lived among the human race, they aren’t out to rule the world or anything. Just trying to survive like every other creature.

Still, he and you were good friends. Actually, when you first met him you developed one of the biggest crushes on the mysterious vampire – but that feeling subsided drastically when you realized more about his lifestyle.

The two of you met through friends of friends. Trustworthy, as you had his back and he had yours. And now, you two shared an apartment in the busy city of Seoul, making ends meet as he works at the local vamp lounge, being a bartender. You wallow yourself forever in an office desk job providing customer service over a phone and through your computer.

“I swear to god if you ask me one more time, I’m going to throw my silver jewelry at you!” you threatened. “And stop calling me Noona!”

He scrunched his nose, annoyed at your rejection. “Ahh, you’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, turning away and departing towards the kitchen.

“It’s my blood! My property!” you yelled to the back of his dark ruffled hair, watching it sway with each of his steps before it vanished behind the wall.

“Then stop bleeding around me! Don’t get another paper cut and I wouldn’t ask!” he shouted from the other room.

The shuffling noises from the fridge to the microwave was audible enough to hear. A hint that he’s reheating a bottle of blood. Luckily for him, you were nice enough to stop by the convenience store on your way back home to pick him up a fresh batch of blood. Picking up his favorite flavor for his special acquired taste.

You looked down at the coffee table that was littered with a pile of mail, some ripped open and some still untouched. Your eyes darted at the piece of envelope that was sharp enough to break through your skin and cause a nasty little cut. You mentally scolded the piece for causing a stinging pain in your index finger. The irony of the rent notice cutting into your wallet was the act paper that cut into your flesh.

With your hand still close by, you examined the cracked cut that adorned a leaky line of red with a bead of blood threatening to drip off. “Wouldn’t ask.” You mocked Jungkook, speaking to yourself. “Oh please – you’re such a begger.” You sucked on your finger, attempting to take the small sting away and ridding your blood while you continued to reorganized the mail on the table.

The audible footsteps of Jungkook resonated as he approached back in the living room, bottle attached to his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to see what was up with his lingering, and he answered your gaze with narrowed cut, stink-eyes. Sipping bitterly hard on his warm thick fluid drink, he rolled his eyes and continued down towards his bedroom.

He heard what you said.

Jungkook was gone, a scheduled vacation to meet up with some old friends for the weekend. You have the whole apartment to yourself for once, and during this time you had an untimely visit from your aunt flow. It tainted your mood, unwanted pains and cramps forcing you out of whack. Your weekend consisted of kissing your lips to Ben & Jerry’s selection of ice cream flavors, watching movies and downing your own dosage of Advil and other pain killers.

The apartment wafted with your heady scent. Something you couldn’t pick up with human smell alone but to a vampire like Jungkook, he could pick it up instantly. Like a shark in a water, he can catch whiff of all kinds of scents with those advanced heightened senses.

You were fast asleep in dreamland, a heating pad atop your stomach that lulled your cramps at an ease. Curse the world that during this period, your cramps were ungodly painful, and you felt like complete and utter shit.

What you didn’t know was that your roommate had decided to cut his group hang out short – coming back home in the middle of the night. Not like he couldn’t come and go as he pleased – it was his house too. But tonight, it was slightly… different.

He stepped up the stairwell in the apartment complex, fidgeting with the ring of keys in hand. A strange smell entered his nose, something foreign yet so similar to him. It forced him to halt his actions, standing still while looking down the corridor. It was coming from this floor – his floor.

Jungkook reached level 3, turning his way down to his apartment with the scent leading him all the way to the front door. A succulent aroma enticing him, ticking his hunger. He soon realized that sweet pungent smell that he zoned into was your scent – your blood was lingering in the airway in a heavy dosage.

“Oh fuck!” he unlocked the apartment door in a rush, speedily running in as fast as the bulk of your musk entered his sinuses. Immediately Jungkook thought the worst, thinking something happened to you; you were hurt and bleeding out. Were you okay? Why are you bleeding?

His feet brought him to your bedroom door, “Y/n! Y/n!?” he’s frantic. The moment Jungkook busted your bedroom door open almost off its hinges, he was relieved to see you intact and unharmed – seeing your body sprawled out across your mattress fast asleep.

But the sudden commotion jolted you up out of your slumber, the booming sound of your door flinging open and Jungkook’s voice calling out your name startled you.

“Kook?” You whipped your head towards him, a groggy voice to match your terrible bedhead you sported.

“Shit, sorry! Fuck, I didn’t mean to wake you! I just – I,” his thoughts were cut off, that rambling of his mouth seized when you shifted yourself on the bed, rolling the comforter around. The blanket that sealed the majority of your scent now accidentally releasing in a wave, the sweet tangy smell hitting Jungkook face first.

His hand latched to his nose, plugging his ability to smell you any further. Internally he was fighting his natural urge to go for it, to have a taste of this juicy aroma that was causing his mouth to water and fangs to sharpen. This impulse was worse than any other time, like when you got papercuts or accidentally nicked yourself with a knife. You always had a peculiar smell, something that made him curious, and now he’s invested.

He knows he needs to leave the area, go get himself a bottle of blood or find a unfortunate prey on the street, quickly. He can’t touch you; he shouldn’t touch you – but god do you smell so good and your scent was incredibly inviting.

His backpack slunk off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, the intoxicating smell was so deadly that it was forcing a haze of thirst run over him. “I thought you were hurt.” He confessed.

You rubbed your eyes to remove any forming crusts, “Hurt? What? I’m not hurt. That’s why you woke me up?”

Jungkook shook his head, staring over at your confused and puzzled face. “N – no Y/n, you’re bleeding. Like a lot.”

It took moments for you to register what he was implying. Widening your eyes when you finally came to realization. “Oh no… shit. Sorry Koo. I’m fine I swear.”

You scurried, flipping the covers over you to witness a decently large stain that had accumulated through your night shorts. You bled through your bottoms, something you haven’t done in years, yet mother nature is always good at being unpredictable. You sighed, face palming yourself to how you practically ruined the fabrics and it will take a miracle to clean them completely.

Jungkook froze, all instincts fighting to break free the moment his sensory eyes laid on the darkened patch that decorated between your legs. His fist tightened; his body completely stiff with blown out eyes. “Run Jungkook, fucking run.” He ordered himself internally.

You carefully moved your body around, attempting not to get any more blood on your sheets. Thankfully you didn’t have any cramps right now. Typically, you were very cautious around your roommate during times like these. Plugging yourself up with tampons from beginning to end of your cycle, refusing to stay around him or the apartment for too long, even he would take time away to give you your space. It was out of respect for another, established as a primary rule before you two signed your contract to the apartment.

As you hobbled closer towards the door in which Jungkook stood, you couldn’t understand why he refused to move out of your way.

“Kook, I have to go to the bathroom.” You seek to brush pass him but Jungkook’s hand snatched your arm – grip strong.

In a slow raspy voice, he breathed, “Noona.”

You blinked up at him, watching a flicker of red flash over his darkened orbs. You felt caught, trapped by his intense stare. His build was larger than yours, almost menacing when his body hardened to block the frame of the doorway.

“Jungkook… relax…” You felt the temperature of your body shift. Should you be worried? Scared? Embarrassed?

“I can’t.” his other hand held onto your free arm, slowly backing you away from the door with trembling steps. His eyes frantically searched your face, pupils wide while the chocolate brown of his eyes shaded to a vibrant red.  

His eyes were demanding, a scare or warning that there was no going back from this. You’ve witnessed this look before when you visited the bar he worked at, when his eyes catch onto a delicious treat in the crowd. It won’t be easy to escape this situation. Jungkook was invested in getting what he wanted, what he was craving…

“This – this would be weird. It’s – Jungkook listen to me for a second.” The back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. “Jungkook!”

He hummed, glossing his eyes over you once more. His tone beckoning you to continue.

“This is period blood!”

He shrugged, rubbing his hands along the expanse of your arms, not allowing you to sit down just yet. He can feel the warmth of your body, how you are much warmer than usual. “It’ll just taste a little off. It’s not like I haven’t had it before.”

“Ew, Kook! No that’s gross! Like, do vampires actually enjoy? This?” You tried wiggling yourself out of his grasp. But he stepped closer – closing whatever distance there was between the two of you. You swallowed thickly, feeling quite intimidated and small under his presence. But you took note, his tight chest now flexed in front of you and hands held firm to your arms as if he was holding onto dear life.

“Y/n.” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your head. His phantom breath tickled the shell of your ear, “Please let me have a taste. Can I please…?”

It sounded so sensual coming from him. A shiver running down the base of your spine from the odd request. His hands now ghosted your hips, fingers etching a tingly sensation into your exposed skin. He carefully played with the waist band of your shorts – dipping a finger under it in a teasingly way.

Jungkook was controlling himself to all extremes. He knows he can’t attack you the way his nature wants him to, you’re his friend after all. He shouldn’t be stalking towards you like this. He cannot ruin you the way you’re ruining him right now. But he’s surely thinking about it.

You felt shy, nervous but oddly turned on by your roommate’s intimidation. All his persistence, his pleading whines slowly getting to you. You should feel disgusted – right? The idea of blood, your blood, your period blood, being taste tested by your friendly vampire. Which makes you question yourself even more when you tell Jungkook, “Okay…”

You’re shocked and so was Jungkook. Your confirmation is all he needed to hear, so he didn’t need to stop his action of snaking his hand down your shorts, slowly trailing his fingers towards your core.

A small gasp escaped him the moment the freshly soaked patch on your undies came in contact with the pad of his index finger. The urgency of pushing his finger down onto the cloth to collect whatever residue he could overwhelmed him.

It was an odd feeling – your roommate exploring his wondering hand down your shorts. What you didn’t expect was how it still felt somewhat good. The sudden contact of your lady bits now getting attention not by your own hand, but of someone else’s. Causing your body to jump with a sexual alert and now you’re the one holding onto Jungkook’s arms as if you were going to buck under him.

Jungkook brought his fingers back up to meet his face as he inspected the redden stain that now coated the tips of his digits. A strange manner – something no human in their right mind would do – Jungkook sniffed at your remainder. Naturally this would be so revolting for a human. But Jungkook is a blood-sucking vampire. Any form of human blood wired him up and he lived off of it, literally.

You watched him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and exhaled a very audible groan thought his nose.

“Fuuuuck, Noona…” his tongue dragged between his fingers, then lips to savor the flavor. Suddenly his hand disappeared back to the waistband of your shorts, this time less hesitantly now. “You tasted like this all along?” He speculated while advising you to sit down, tugging harshly at your bottoms.

You nervously fumbled trying to catch his hands before he could hoist your bottoms off. He was fast, desperate for more. “Kook! You said a taste!” you squealed.

“I’m not finished tasting!” he growled. A more aggressive side taking over his demeanor. In his swift act of removing your bottoms you heard the ripping of seams. Fabrics pulling apart. Then your used panties and shorts were discarded off to the side – there was no saving them now.

Jungkook held your hands, staring down at your now pinched thighs that hid his juicy treat. He can sense your uncertainty, your nervousness – so he tried to look as apologetically pleading as possible while kneeling down in front of you. “Noona – please!” The pitch of voice didn’t match the way of his eyes that stared you down. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise. Just let me show you!”

He shoved his face between your knees, attempting to pry your legs apart, that strong scent now mere inches away from his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t control his hunger any longer, not when there was free blood just asking to be eaten.

It was almost pathetic at how desperate Jungkook was being, wiggling his head further into you. His eyes glowing pure red as they fixated at the crack between your thighs. He dragged his lips across your skin, planting reckless open mouth kisses. The sight of your roommate on his knees for you sparked a deep desire within your core.

“Kook! Let’s talk about this!” You flushed as you pinched your thighs as tight as possible. Jungkook’s hands firmly held yours still. He grunted at your resounded rebuttal, pleading more with a high pitch – needy whine.

He wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear you as his hunger took over his senses. His throat felt dry though his mouth watered for your flavor. Heat embedded into your cheeks, rocking a wave down to your bundle of nerves. You squeaked at the shifting movements of Jungkook wedging his face even more. “Kook is this even right?!”

Complete turmoil ran through your mind – you’re sharing yourself with your friend. Someone you had a crush on, and now that attraction crept back up. An act that you two have never experienced before. This wasn’t your average ‘oh here take some blood from my wrist’ situation. Jungkook was aiming for more than just a snack and it didn’t seem like the vampire didn’t mind what-so-ever.

“I’m okay with it Noona – are you?” He nipped your leg lightly, slowly dragging his now sharpened fangs on the soft skin. His lips formed a pout as he looked up at you with reddened puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t bite you.”

Everything about this situation seemed so wrong, but Jungkook was making it sound so right. You never realized how the excitement of the situation was causing your chest to rise erratically, an ache in your core now persistently present and you swore the puddle down below wasn’t just blood now.

You were nervous and body slightly shaking. It’s late, it’s wrong, this whole circumstance entirely dangerous. But that didn’t stop your body acting on its own accord by widening your legs just enough for Jungkook’s head to slip in. A spark lit bright in Jungkook’s eyes when he laid them upon your dirty flower, the sight looking as appetizing as ever.  

“Yeah.” You breathed. “It’s okay with me. Don’t bite me or so help me god –“

“I won’t.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to slide himself in – licking up the blotches of blood that escaped onto your inner thighs. The sensual feeling of his tongue tracing patterns around your pussy.

Lewd noises came from Jungkook, devouring your juice as if it was the best meal on Earth. Satisfaction releasing through his nose that moment the flat of his wet muscle licked up between your lips, flicking at the tip of your clit.

He released your hands as he felt you ease into him, moving them to your upper thighs to kneed lovely circles into them.

“Oh!” you moaned. Your fingers carded though his hair – head nestled deep between your legs. “Koo-!”

He grinned against your sex. A slight giggle escaped his lips, “Yes, Noona?”

Jungkook looked up at you through his eyelashes and with a cock of his eyebrow, mouth entrapping your cunt. He flicked his tongue up you once more just to see your reaction.

You shuttered – back landing onto your mattress. You openly sighed with a ridged breath. The dangerous mouth of Jungkook eating you up like it was his job. “Fuck, Kook.” You giggled at your shameless moans. The feeling of bashfulness creeping up on you from enjoying the sensation, those disgusting thoughts fading away against the immense pleasure. Stimulation being particularly focused on your small bundle of nerves, especially when Jungkook sucked on it.

The mess that dressed your cunt was most definitely already cleaned up by now. But Jungkook continued to pleasure you in return – after all he did say he’d make it feel good.

He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.

“Let me thank you, Y/n…” he purred.

Snaking his fingers under you, he teased the pads of his digits around your entrance. Prodding slowly along with the rhythm that his tongue set. Your cunt clenched around the insertion of two of his fingers that eased in effortlessly.

You allowed him to have a taste and now he wanted to repay you back by giving you a treat you won’t forget. You gasped for air the moment Jungkook’s fingers curled up into the thicket of your inner walls, pressing long drawled out strokes against it.

Your hips bucked, jerking up into the wild tongue of Jeon Jungkook. It was sinful the way he ate you out, and even at the right angle you felt the sharp of his fangs that threatened to dip into you. His word was true, he wasn’t going to bite you, just clean you up.

With the constant thrusts of his vicious digits, he was also swiping out any hording residue of your unfortunate mishap that got you two in this situation in the first place. Of course, this luscious taste is distinct, but Jungkook can also relish in the flavor of your natural essence that extracted from your cunt. And the mix of these two delectable tangs together soon made their way to the top of Jungkook’s palate.

Your body tightened, the sudden rush of your climax rushing through you as goosebumps rise across your skin. The fist you steadily held in his hair, tightened. Your back arched off the mattress, Jungkook’s hand holding your hips securely down.

Vibrations ran through your body while you moaned Jungkook’s name, creaming all over his face. He groaned in return, lapping up every inch of you.

He leaned back, removing his mouth and fingers. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jungkook peered up at you with constraint. You remained laying, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely washed out. That just happened? You had one of the best orgasms of your entire life all because Jungkook was thirsty?

“You good, Y/n?” A mousy voice drew your attention out of your thoughts, back down at the man who hesitantly stood up. His hands moved your legs back together, and he assisted you to sitting back up right on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, reserving your thoughts for another time as you looked up to Jungkook. His eyes were no longer blood-lust red but instead his wide doe-eyed nuisance you’re oh-so used to seeing. They wouldn’t be so annoying if they didn’t work on you, but they did. Every. Damn. Time.

“I’m good, Kook! Uh – thank you.” Your expression of gratitude stammered out of your mouth faster than you could think.

Jungkook murmured under his breathe, but it was loud enough to hear the “Yeah, of course.”

Oh boy. You can feel it – the awkwardness setting in.

Before there were any more unsettling silences between the both of you, you spoke up. “I should really get myself cleaned up, if you can excuse me, I should really go to the bathroom.”

With that announcement you scurried, more like dashed yourself to the bathroom that was adjacent to your room. Leaving Jungkook to stand in your bedroom bewildered. He glanced down over at your discarded ripped bottoms that lay lifeless on the floor, still stained with your pungent aroma. He faltered battling with his inner thoughts when his lips quivered ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He seethed the profanity through his teeth while palming over his groin.

It’s been a week since the misadventure that happened between your roommate and you. Determined, you choose to take the path of act-like-everything-is-fine. Nothing was wrong, no of course not. Right?

You had a full week to dwell on these thoughts, by yourself. No interests in opening your mouth about it to your best friends, or any random stranger at a bar or even the same clerk you run into at the convenience store every now and then.

So what – you let Jungkook have a taste of your blood? You’re an adult, and it was perfectly fine! He needs blood to live anyways – if anything you were doing him a favor! So, you told yourself…

But strangely enough after that night, after the mind-blowing orgasm that left your core fluttering for days even at the thought of that night, Jungkook distanced himself from you. No matter how many times you addressed him to partake in a casual event that the two of you normally participated in like enjoying a movie on the couch, having drinks together, running to the store or even playing one of his blasted videogames – Jungkook declined more than often. It was always.

Jungkook was hardly to be seen, stating he picked up more shifts at the lounge or hanging out with others. Meanwhile his nights remained occupied, and your days were busy with your office job – it caused more of a space between the two of you. When his actions persisted, you couldn’t help but think there was something wrong.

By day four of post orgasm those flooded doubts came running in. What you two did wasn’t right, you fucking knew it. Jungkook must have known it too. “This totally fucked up everything didn’t it?” It’s the only excuse you could devise with the series of events.

Now day seven you sat there in the middle of the couch; legs crossed over another as your foot impatiently tapped in the air. It’s been exactly a week from that treacherous night, and the more you thought about the risky behavior you both endured, the more it couldn’t escape your mind. You’re putting too much effort into something that shouldn’t be minded.

At least, that’s what Jungkook was doing – right? Not minding the incident…

With a glass of wine in hand, you sipped with resent as your flickered through the list of movies to preoccupy yourself with. Something needed to stand out, something to distract you from your irritated mindset. Maybe a comedy, maybe some horror with a bit of action?

You settled for something, clicking play and started up towards the kitchen. Swallowing the remains of your glass in honor of filling it right back up to the brim. In the course of your tipping the wine bottle into your cup, watching the dark liquid pour out of the nozzle so fluidly, you heard the entrance of your apartment open up.

That can only be one person – Jungkook.

Placing the bottle of wine back down on the counter, you turn with a full glass in hand. You walked out of the kitchen to be met with the emptying of the living room once again. Jungkook must have bee-lined it straight to his room.

A sudden rage rose up within you, not particularly enjoying this cold-shoulder act Jungkook insisted on giving. You want to confront him; you’re getting tired of this odd behavior and if there was an elephant in the room that refuses to leave then you will kick it out with all your might.

“Jungkook!” You hollered, feet stepping down the narrow hallway towards his room that was hidden in the very far end. “Kook!” Your voice belted his name a few more octaves higher.

Your knuckles contacted his bedroom door, tapping against the wood. “Can you open up?”

Through the wood you can hear the rummaging of Jungkook throughout the room. He was ransacking his drawers, the sound of his chair wheeling back and forth as his steps moved to and fro. “I’m busy right now.”

A stern huff escaped your lips. To calm yourself you took a long swig of your wine, hoping it cooled you down – or even give you more of a liquid courage to speak up.

“It will only take a minute!” You barked.

He didn’t reply back to you, but instead he continued to rustle around his room for god only knows what. With this indication, you felt peeved and your hand was fast to the doorknob. Twisting the handle fast enough to fling the door open so you can face him.

Jungkook was in the midst of tucking in his black fitted button up shirt, belt still hanging loose through the loops. Matching with his black sleek trousers and set of tuxedo shoes that went along with the monochromatic attire for work. For a brief moment, your mind zoned in on how Jungkook would look… when not just dressing, but undressing. That thought bubble was popped abruptly when he whipped his head in your direction and yelled at you.

“I said I was busy!” he repeated, tone fully capturing the blunt of his attitude.

“Jungkook, come on you’ve been avoiding me all week.” You inclined.

Jungkook ruffled out the last bits of his shirt, tapering it into the band of his pants. He fastened his belt security along his waist with the clinks and clacks. “I’m late Y/n. I don’t have time for this.” Jungkook breezes past you towards the bathroom with his stationary bag lugged over his shoulder. He eyes himself in the mirror, tidying up his hair and quickly rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

Your feet pattered to the bathroom door, now leaning your body against the frame of the entrance. You can notice the harsh side-eye you receive from Jungkook, but you pay no attention in giving a reaction to it. “Kook, what did I do for you to avoid me? Was it because of what happened?”

There was sadness laced inside your voice, but it was taken over by puzzlement. You were just concerned, what happened to the dynamic between the two of you? Why can’t Jungkook even look you in the eyes half the time and run away to steer clear of you?

He spit his mouthwash into the skin, checking his teeth in the mirror for any imperfections. He shimmied the other string of his bag on to his other shoulder and turned to leave the bathroom, seeing that you now stood in his way he gave you an uneasy glare. “Move.”

“What the? No! –“ you protested. Your finger jotted out towards him, “Stop avoiding me!”

He can tell by the flare of your nostrils that you were fuming, and your tone of voice rising with each word you spoke only added to the obvious fact that you were indeed pissed. If it wasn’t for the clear sight that you’re holding up a cup full of alcohol, he’d most definitely would have smelt it lingering off of your breath. Jungkook attempted to grab the glass of wine out of your hand, assuring you that “you probably drank too much already.”

“Hey! – No, give me that!” You argued, holding tight with your fingers circling around the base. He’s shuffling around, pulling at your wrist to let go of the damn thing, but it was when his hand latched over yours that covered the base an unexpected shatter echoed in the apartment.

Wine spilled between the two of you, decorating the bathroom floor and your feet with the murky dark liquid. Pieces of bladed glass scattered around, and you winced when you felt the sudden jab of a shard that dug itself into your palm.

You yelped, jumping back in surprise and pain. You held your hand out, outstretching your fingers to see the blossoming of red liquid leaking from the shard. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Shit! Y/n, I’m sor –“ Jungkook cut himself mid-sentence after reaching out towards you. The blood oozing out from that blade of glass was spilling out your sweet tasteful scent, and it wired Jungkook. His inner thirst now aroused.

Pain was plastered over your face as you ripped the piece out from your palm. You pressed firmly against the open wound, looking at the mess that is now below you. Glass everywhere and wine seeping into the cracks of the tiles.

Your eyes met up with Jungkook’s just as he was pushing pass you, down the hall and out the front door. Astonished at Jungkook’s utter rude mannerisms, you held your mouth wide open. He just up and left you in the middle of a mess that was caused by him. That you now have to clean up after taking care of this fresh cut inside the palm of your hand.

And he still didn’t answer your questions.

Another week went by with your poor attempts of consulting Jungkook and him avoiding you like the plague. And with the last ‘real’ incidence where the two of you spoke more than a few syllables, you ended up with a fresh cut to your hand and having to mop and sweep up glass shards and your favorite flavored wine off of the floor. And at this point, you felt like you were avoiding him just as much.

The animosity in the air between the two of you went down a gruesome hill. Tumbling down into smithereens where neither one of you can easily look at another. Jungkook still remained busy as ever, staying out of the house only until you leave for work. The only things that made you know he was still alive was the empty blood bottles left in the sink, the shower curtain being tossed every-which-way, and the half-hazard filing through your piled up mail when he picked out his belongings and left yours disorganized.

Needlessly to say, Jungkook stressed you the fuck out. You were bending to his routines, you were seeking shelter away from him, and all casual activity between the two of you completely vanished. Your confusion turned into spiteful hatred, wanting to smack your roommate upside the head.

Now you’re on week three of roommate-distancing. Your room became your safe haven. The living room was a crossfire full of casualties. The kitchen is a death wish. And the bathroom became your secret chamber when you needed to relax with a steamy relaxing shower and your bubbly loofah.

All this time, your mind already grew curious about Jungkook. There was no way you can repress your emotions when it came to him completely shutting you out. But you did stop remembering that night that turned the sequence of things between the two of you. You wanted to forget; you don’t want to think about it – ever.

You spent weeks dwelling over this roommate dilemma, and it tainted your mood entirely. Your job lacked enthusiasm, your tv didn’t please you enough after watching the same junk over and over. Tonight, you felt appropriate to go out for the night, treat yourself. Because you out of all people know you deserve some fun after the bullshit you are handling.

Fuck it – you’re going to the bar.

Pleather jeans hugged your legs, a blouse that you had tucked in lays low on the neckline flaunting your clavicles and upper chest. You jeweled yourself with a silver body chain that connected at your neck and dipped down between your breasts underneath your shirt. To top of your rocking outfit, you selected your best pair of open-toed red high heels lacing up the front and pinning up half of your now curled hair.

After finishing off the last touches of your make-up you gave yourself a quick look over in your standing mirror. Amused with your selection of attire you gave yourself one last twirl before grabbing your purse and heading out your front door.

You just needed time out, grab yourself a few drinks. There’s no shame of going to the bar alone, plus you enjoyed becoming acquainted with the bartenders here and there. It always gave you a sense of comfort knowing, even though it’s apart of their job, you can vent to them about your worries.

The Snake Pit, a clever yet sinister name for a bar tended to be one of your favorite hot spots to visit. Not only it had a dancefloor and an elongated bar that stretched to the full extent of a wall, electro pop music, and it had its own special feng shui to it.

Heel’s clacking against the hard-wooden floor beneath you, you strutted yourself over to an available seat by the bar. You smiled sweetly at the oncoming bartender who was headed your way, “Hey there! It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?”

You handed over your card to the young chipper male who gleamed down at you, “Open a tab for me please. I’ll start with a mojito, Jin.”

“One Mo-Jin-To coming right up!” he smiled, whipping around to grab the appropriate glasses and mixtures. You bobbed your head to the music waves as you checked out the crowds around you. It was packed here tonight, and you’re happy to see people enjoying a great time.

“How’s it been?” Jin questioned after placing the glass on a coaster in front of you. He leaned in resting his elbow against the bar. Jin was a notorious little flirt, but with good intentions. He just wanted to make his customers as happy as possible – or maybe just enjoyed swooning the ladies to give him better tips.

“It’s… alright. Been better. Just needed to blow off some steam. And of course, I came to visit my favorite bartender. Can’t ever forget a face like yours.” You laughed along with Jin, taking a quick sip of your drink. “Oh? You made it a strong one.” You gave him a thumbs up, “yup, definitely my favorite bartender.”

Jin responded with a playful wink before leaning back up to assist other customers who beckoned for his attention. “Let me know when you need round two!”

And round two came sooner than later. Possibly drink three being concocted as you continued to sip down your mojitos like they were juice. When you grabbed your freshly made glass, you made your way to the dance floor to find some fun.

Within the course of an hour the beat of the music picked up drastically. Bodies swayed left and right in formations, lights flickering and buzzing around your sights. You were so into the rhythm that your hips moved naturally to the tunes.

Until a hand grabbed at your waist, turning you slightly towards them. A man slightly taller than you and maybe just as tipsy as you decided to take his chance on dancing with a pretty lady. “Hey!” he slurred over the loud music. “Let’s dance?”

His invitation wasn’t much of an invite, considering that he was already dancing along with you. But you accepted with a wide smile, urging him to come closed so you could relax your arm around his shoulder as you continued to drink. “Might as well, it is a dancefloor.” You giggled.

The bar felt like you were playing musical chairs with suitor on suitor. Eventually your drink vanished completely, and you were on your third dance with another random, but handsome, stranger.

“You smell just as pretty as you look.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, rocking his pelvis into your backside. His hands found a home on the curve of your hips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his confession.

“That’s got to be one of the better pickup lines.” You hummed. “I’ve heard worse” you teased as you whipped yourself around in place, now placing your hands through the man’s hair. It was thick and hardened with some sort of product. You glanced around at the bar, noticing your favorite bartender flirting along with an innocent girl that sat right in front of him. A couple having a heavy make-out session just a few feet away from their interaction.

But you found a spare seat that was left empty, a motivation for you to go back for another drink? Or just relax from dancing since you felt like you needed a break.

“That’s not very nice,” the man prodded. Nudging your head aside so he could place a tender kiss against your neck.

With reflex you jerked your body away, avoiding the man and pushing him away. “No thank you.”

As you were turning on your heel, the male stepped close to you once more. Arm linking around your body, “Where do you think you’re going? Thought we were dancing?” He grinned eerily, an odd ominous vibe now shining from him.

Your hands came up to shove him away, but there was a movement in a blink of an eye that you didn’t catch. Maybe your vision was impaired, but you could have sworn you were just in the clutches of this man, and now he stands five feet away from you with a bewildered look.

“Back off.” A low grumble resounded next to you, a face popping into your perception. Jungkook?!

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth against another as the muscles flexed on the sides of his jaws. His arm was now linked around your waist, holding you close to him.

“What the fuck man?”

“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Jungkook challenged the man, stepping in front of you now to face the male. From here you can see his back tensed up under his dark t-shirt. You couldn’t comprehend the duel going on between the two, or maybe you couldn’t hear over the voluminous blaring of techno beats.

When the male fled the dancefloor, Jungkook turned to look at you. “What the fuck Kook!” You blurted. He was taken aback for a second, confused why you’re all of a sudden yelling at him. “Excuse me? Shouldn’t you be thanking me!?”

“Not that. I don’t care. But what the actual fuck?!”

All your pent up and inner rage towards your roommate from the past few weeks was making you hostile. Even seeing his face stirred you up to the point you wanted to hit him for being so idiotic.

“Y/n, seriously. Not right now. I just need to get you out of here. Please.” He grabbed your elbow, leading you a few feet before you tugged back on your arm.

“No!” Your hand gripped around his wrist, trying your damn near hardest to pull him off of you. “You need to explain right the fuck now!” You stomped your feet, throwing a small tantrum.

Jungkook’s patience was very thin, especially when it came to drunk you. He stepped closer, tugging your body next to his. “Fucking listen to me for a second, dammit. I need to get you out of here. I’ll talk to you when we’re outside.” He spat back at you.

“Why?” You rebutted, glaring up at his face.

“Cause you’re fucking bleeding, Y/n! And if it wasn’t for me that sleazy vampire would have had you for dinner!” He bit back. Both him and you were bickering back and forth, drawing attention from surrounding bystanders.

“What’ do you mean I’m ‘bleeding’” you air quoted with your fingers. You belted out an obnoxious laugh. Your unpleasant emotions were getting the better of you – resulting in making an ass out of yourself when all your roommate was trying to do was help you out. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that we’re friends too, right?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his brows raised as high as they can reach. You were acting quite absurd and he didn’t understand what had gotten into you. “Y/n, I can fucking smell you.” He seethed out the words through his teeth. That’s when you noticed his fangs were now elongated and sharp. Jungkook wasn’t joking around.

A moment of realization kicked in and your eyes widened. “Wait, really?” You trembled.

“Yes. Now let’s get you out of here.” Jungkook escorted you through the crowd, hand now holding yours. The two of you quickly grabbed your tab from your helpful bartender while Jungkook looked out for any wondering eyes. If both he and that strange vampire could smell you, he was sure others can too.

Jungkook followed close behind you, being extra protective while scanning the areas outside on the way back to your apartment. When the two of you made it about four blocks down in complete silence, besides the sound of your heels hitting the concrete below, you decided to chirp up. “You said we’ll talk outside. So, talk.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Your feet came to a halt, twisting your neck to look at Jungkook who walked a few paces behind you. “Seriously? You can’t imagine anything, not one thing, as to what I want to talk about?”

Jungkook ignored your stare, dismissing the obvious topic of interest by responding with. “Well, it’s easy for a vampire to tell another vampire apart. For one, they don’t have a heartbeat. So, when I saw him up on you, I grew curious.” A smug little grin pulled up on Jungkook’s face.

You balled your hands into fists, frustration pulling on every nerve in your body. “Don’t play coy with me! Stop. Fucking. Ignoring. Me. Jungkook.” You marched yourself right up to where he stood, invading his personal space. “I’m tired of it. Just talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “It was me, not you.”

You snorted; the classic phrase used in so many cliché break up scenes. But this time, it’s not a break up. It’s literally two friends who have a weird misunderstanding with another. “Oh? So that’s it? It’s you and so you avoid me?”

“Keep walking, we’re only a few blocks away.”

You shook your head in defeat, crossing your arms and held tight to your body. The faster you get home, the faster you get to clean yourself up and the faster you can close off Jungkook. Little did you know that your furious speedy walk gave your butt just enough jiggle in those pleather jeans you decided to wear. Giving Jungkook something to admire from a far as his senses were being laced with your aroma.

“I’m sorry Y/n…”

“No, I’m sorry I have a shitty friend like you.”

Jungkook kept up with your pace, walking step by step along with your strides. He knows you don’t truly mean the words coming out of your mouth. It was his fault, and he was trying to admit blame for it all.

As the two of you made it up the stairwell in your apartment complex, Jungkook tried speaking up to you once more. “Y/n, look I know what I was doing wasn’t –“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You slotted the key into your door, twisting it open and walked yourself into the darkness of your living room. Your night out became a terrible mess, rounding back to the initial problem that you’ve been trying to avoid. Once you kicked off your heels, tossing them aimlessly across the floor mat, you did the same to your purse and keys.

“Y/n.” Jungkook’s voice broke through. He reached for your arm, tugging you to face him. “Look I’ll talk all right?”

“Oh? So, I go weeks with being ignored by you, but you can’t last a night when the tables are turned?” You mocked Jungkook, looking at your roommate straight into the eyes.

“I had to, Y/n!” Jungkook pleaded for reason. “Please, I needed time okay?”

By now you were sobering up, any remains of your alcohol intake must have been sweated out during dancing and on your walk home. Jungkook was sporting his infamous doe-eyes while he looked desperately back into yours.

“Time? Time?!” you rose your voice. “Time to be an asshole? Needed time to ignore me when we could have discussed the problem? You literally circumvented yourself away from me for weeks? Was eating me out that terrible?!” Your fingers found their way to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Whoah! Y/n, Y/n whoah whoah. No!” Jungkook grabbed at your shoulders and leveled his head with yours. Surprise took over his body, clearly the both of you were having polar opposite battles going on with your minds. “No that’s not the – that isn’t. Gah… Fuckin’ hell. Eating you out was great! I enjoyed it.” Jungkook eased his hands over your shoulders, “Wholeheartedly, even when I don’t have much of a heart to comment by, I promise you. I think… it was too good actually. But, that wasn’t the problem at all!”

Your face froze in place with your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. Only a few times you closed it, just to open it up and speak. “Wait… I’m confused. What’s the problem then?”

Jungkook exhaled a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “Y/n. Your – uh your blood is a problem for me.”

“Well now I’m slightly offended, Jeon! You said I smelt good!” You wacked his chest with your palm. During which, a brief flicker of red cut through his irises and it made you pull your hand right back from him. It was at that moment, even when Jungkook’s gazed turned to a scowl, you knew he meant something else.

“You should really get yourself cleaned up.” His voice didn’t sound like a sincere worry, but more of a threat.

You snapped back at him, “You should really learn how to control your hunger.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, licking his lips with a fixed gaze. He leaned forward suppressing the enigmatic smile he wanted to show you. “May I remind you, Noona, you’re bleeding right now.”

There it is again, that pet name that he enjoys cooing you with. The name that slightly makes you shy because you yourself don’t know how to react. Or maybe it riled you up, it was his way to flirt around with you shamelessly.

Your heady scent wasn’t as strong as the last time, no not at all. It was as dull as usual when you covered it up with tampons, only a faint aroma wafting from you. Not a pile of blood decorating your skimpy nighties in the middle of the night.

But it was the fact that Jungkook has already had a taste of your blood, he knows what it tastes like. He knows how good that succulent flavor drips so freely from you. Jungkook refuses to let any other vampire pry on you, like that bastard back at the bar. This blood was favorable, and god dammit he’ll protect it at all costs.

You crossed your arms over your body, staring down Jungkook who was quickly turning into the Jungkook from a few weeks ago. “And if I am bleeding, you sir, aren’t getting any of it.”

Jungkook held back his tongue, prodding it against the inside of his cheek instead. Your scent secretly became a dangerous drug for Jungkook. Almost addictive in a sense. He was lucky to have been walking the streets near The Snake Pit, smelling your custom flavor in the air. But he was so completely unlucky when he skipped out searching for a quick drink that he was left thirsty.

And the agonizing walk from the bar back home to make sure you remained safe, getting a nice view of your ass swaying with each step in those tight pants, only tantalized him further because all he could do was sniff you out. You invading his vicinity only teased him worse.

He let out a breathy sigh again, “What can I do?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“I haven’t eaten tonight, and I know there isn’t any more bottles because you stopped buying them… what can I do to get some of your blood right now?”

You quizzed Jungkook, “I don’t know, what can you do?”

Jungkook reached for your hand, unfolding your arms from your front. He raised it to his face, where he placed your palm flat across his cheek. His hunger was forming an empty pit in his stomach, he physically could feel his abdomen churn inwards at the thought of your blood touching his tongue. His voice came out as a soft whisper, “I’m so sorry for mistreating you recently.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubbed along your inner wrist, stepping closer to your body. He can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, the warmth of your hand against his face grew clammier the longer he stared at you. “I – I would really love some, if you let me. I was good to you last time, right Noona?”

His words were sweet, his eyes were sweeter with the pleading look he emitted even when the color of his orbs turned to that deadly crimson. Fuck. You don’t know what it was about Jungkook that triggered you in the most sinful of ways.

Was it the way his smile looked so dashingly sexy even when he’s being a childish punk. The effortless good looks no matter what style of clothes he was wearing? His entire aspect, the living (well actually dead) embodiment of Jeon Jungkook was everything you actually craved.

You breathed, “Yeah… You were very good to me.” All of those memories of that night flooded back. The feelings. The satisfactions. How hot and heavy Jungkook’s tongue felt against your swollen sex.

“Let me be good to you again.” Jungkook advised, kissing your inner wrist now.

“Only on one condition.” You stated as your grab both of Jungkook’s wrists in your hands. You guided Jungkook down the apartment hallway, ignoring the poorly lit areas and towards his room. After pushing open his door with a foot, you pointed to his bed.

“My bed is the condition?” He grinned amused at the option in front of him. Thinking that this condition was nothing serious, but easier for him. He complied to sit down facing you with a questionable look. “What now, Noona? You have me.”

Your hands reached behind your neck, unclasping the body chain you decided to wear out tonight. “This. This is my condition.” You held the long piece of jewelry up. “It’s pure silver. I’m sure you understand.”

Now you drew Jungkook’s curiosity even further, what did you have in mind with that chain? He never knew his roommate was so kinky before. You peaked his interests with entertainment.

“Wrists. Now.”

“But how am I going to be good for you if you cuff me?”

“Do you want my blood or no? Because I’m certain just about a minute ago you said –“

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” He shook his head while displaying his wrists out to you.

The burn of the chain sizzled against his skin as you twisted it around another, tying his wrists together. It was painful for a vampire, not only does it burn but it also paralyzes the affected, so they cannot pull the material off of the area so easily.

Jungkook’s face had irritation written all over it. The pain biting him with annoyance. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that whatever he may do will give him the blood he desired.

“This is for you ignoring me for weeks.” You raised his arms above him, pushing him back onto his bed and securing his wrists to one of the posts with the assistance of a sturdy belt.

Jungkook groaned out, “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Apology is not accepted.” You smiled.

He watched you carefully, eyeing your bar outfit, your face, the excitement behind your eyes sparking at the actions you chose to partake in. “So, this is my punishment?” He winked.

You shrugged, making your way over to the other side of his bed to sit down next to him. “I’m pretty sure this is a reward for you, since you want my blood.” You reminded him waving your wrist in front of his face.

There was struggle, Jungkook’s eager bloodshot eyes now zoning in on the span of your wrist. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. He was thirsty.

When his eyes glanced back over to yours, he had desperation screaming from them. His breath turned jagged, inhaling your lingering scent some more. “Noona – please. What do you want?”

You leaned back laying down and used Jungkook’s abdomen as your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His innocent pleas sounded mesmerizing to you. You wanted to hear him talk, to confess.

“Besides my blood what do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leered down at you. With this angle he can see the expanse of your neck on show, stretched long and elevated on his waist. He can only dream about sinking his fangs into that supple skin, slurping up whatever poured out of you.

“I want to put my mouth on you.” He declared.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “I said besides my blood.” Indicating that he would want to repeat the same process as last time.

“Not down there. Not right now at least.” His eyes conveyed a secret promise.

A blush snuck up to your cheeks, raising the color of your skin to a warmer shade.

“Would you like that, Noona? Will you let me put my mouth on you?” He said with excitement. The strain of his wrists tugged at the post, Jungkook eyeing you through heavy lids. “Please, let me do something. I’ve been smelling you all night.”

On a whim you perched yourself up over Jungkook, straddling above his waist. “No.” You smiled wryly once you grabbed at the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook parted his lips, licking over his set of teeth. The two of you exchanged a brief heated look, a challenging gaze. Then the sudden tear of his shirt ripped in two as you tore the seam apart with all your might. You exposed his flexed stomach all the way to the top of his chest. “And that’s for my shorts and underwear.”

Jungkook whined, not at the lose of his shirt, but at the bold movement of your actions. It was hot. Your initiative was something he’s never seen before coming from you. And the image of you hovering your dirty flower right above his pelvis is forever going to be ingrained into his memory.

His chiseled upper body was on full display for your eyes now, disregarding the shreds of his shirt still linked around his arms. Fuck, Jungkook was sexy. The entire idea of this sculpted creature under your demand was turning you on second by second and you decided to take advantage of your leverage.

“Noona, just a taste please?” Jungkook begged with a reedy voice. He thrusted his hips up into you, wiggling his eyebrows. He was under your control, completely wrapped around your finger and it didn’t stop him from begging.

You fingered at his nipples, running your thumbs around the softened skin to cause them to perk up. You traced patterns with the tips, running up and down along his abs. “Where do you want to put your mouth?” You inquired. Tapping your digits around his cool skin. “Here?” you prodded, pointing at his upper chest right under his clavicle. “Hm, what about here?” you ran your finger over the prominent vein that bulged out of the side of his neck from constraint.

You watched the way Jungkook’s eager looks turned into anguish, the agony of not having what he craved was tormenting. Your teasing wasn’t helping, you were testing him.

“Anywhere.” He stuttered. “Everywhere.”

Jungkook gasped when you pushed down your weight onto his hips, his growing bulge now receiving attention instead. You smirked; you knew Jungkook was turned on by this. “Jeon? What do we have here?”

He swallowed thickly. Trying to straighten out his mind to respond to you properly but nothing but natural instincts were getting in the way. “I’m hard. I’m horny. And you’re extremely hot right now. As much as I am hungry, I’m thinking many other things about you right now.”

“Enlighten me, Koo.”

Jungkook dropped his head back onto the pillow under him with a whimper. He was parched, he was sexually aroused, and infuriated that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.

“Noona please!” He cried. “Do whatever you want, please. Just help me out.” Jungkook drawled on and on. His wrists continued to strain against the custom-made handcuffs that burned into his skin, rendering him from movements.

Jungkook pointed with his chin towards the junction of your bodies, “Help me.”

It dawned on you, how sleeping with your roommate right now probably wouldn’t be the wises of ideas. And those uncertainties were calculating on your face. Jungkook notices this, jumping at his opportunity to speak. “Y/n. Hey – Look at me. I’m okay with this.” His voice came out soft, still whimpering under you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck yes! You have no idea how much I need you to touch me right now.”

You hesitantly unbuckled his belt and unlooped the button to his jeans. His dick was prominently swollen, being constricted against the layers of materials. With a swift tug at his bottoms just below the curve of his ass, you released the beauty of his hardened thick cock, red at the tip with a spruce of precum glossing over the head.

Jungkook exhaled a shuttered breath, his cock aching to be touched. His member twitches cutely at the ghost of your hand hovering above it, and another whine resonated through his nose. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his dick, the vein that ran over the underside of it. How soft his frenulum looked to the touch.

“Is this what you want Kook?” you firmly grasped at the base of his dick, right above the well-groomed hairs. His hips jolted up at your touch, flexing his muscles and pulling his arms from the restraints.

“Y – Yes!” he choked out. “Help me Noona. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t doubt his promised plea. Last time he promised you something he surely delivered it.

You smothered his leaky precum over the head and through the slit. Fisting his shaft nicely just to watch Jungkook thrust his head back further into the bed. The angel of his jaw tilted back that showed up his thick neck was a delicious sight to witness.

To surprise him, you dipped your head down. Kissing your lips to the tip of his dick and running your tongue along the area. You hummed in satisfaction when Jungkook’s thighs started to shake underneath you. Who knew you’d have this power and demand over your friend.

Your mouth sank down, taking him in an inch and he choked out vowels. He tasted of a sweet salt, miraculously this part of his vampire body remained animated. “Noona!” His teeth remained clenched together, fangs threatening to bite into his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

The wetness of your mouth coated along the rest of his cock, submerging him as far as you can go and wrapping your hand around whatever portion you couldn’t reach. His tip touched the back of your throat when you took him in. Subconsciously you made sure to suck hard as you pulled away.

A string of saliva linked between your mouth and his dick, thinning out right before it snapped. Jungkook groaned out at the sight. He was painfully hard, and his stomach constantly reminded him he needed to drink before he depleted himself.

He whimpered as you abandoned his member, letting it relax against his stomach. He huffed out with a buck of his hips, “I was good to you last time!” he reminded.

“That you were.” You sat at the edge of the bed, untucking your blouse from the band of your pants. “So good.” You blushed.

“What are you doing?” His kicked you softly with the side of his foot. Your fingers found their way to the zipper of your bottoms, undoing them and shimmying them off. The blouse and bra you wore was soon tossed to the side. “I’m going to ride you if you let me.” You peered over your shoulder, baring your backside to him.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, beaming the red hues that decorated them. “Yes, please. My god – please ride me.”

You straddled yourself over Jungkook’s waist, making sure not to fully sit down on top of him just yet. You wanted to tease him of the sight from a few weeks ago. Your lovely lady-bits wafting his favorite flavors together. “I guess I was bleeding a little bit huh?” You laughed to yourself.

His mouth watered; lips parted. Your smell lingers into his nose and filled his lungs. Jungkook was thankful you tied him up otherwise he was sure to have attacked you to get this treat.

“Rub yourself on me, please. I want you to coat my dick.”

He caught you by surprise, this lewd sentence spilling out of his mouth. But you conceded, sitting yourself back on his throbbing member, just to run yourself up and down on it. Your wetness caused an embarrassing and loud squelching noise, your taint painted on Jungkook’s cock like a canvas.

He met the swing of your hips with his own, grinding up into your slick sex. His pressure was forceful up into your folds as if his dick was asking for permission to enter you. “Is this what you want?” you teased again.

He nods vigorously, controlling his impulse to thrust up into you. His hunger remained dominant, but the lust for you became top priority.  

You locked eyes with him the second the tip of his dick threatened to push past your hole. He was yearning to break through and glide his dick against your velvety sleek walls. His lips are pink and bitten while he continued to let out those cute pleading noises you enjoy hearing so much. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed in a tormented bliss.

He was ultimately at your mercy, within your clutches and you could break him at any moment. Leave him hot and heavy to get back at him if you really wanted to. You didn’t speak, just waiting for a sign that he was close to his breaking point.

Jungkook whines again brokenly, “Please, please Noona. I want to be inside you. Can I please?”

So needy. So deprived of his wants and wishes. You feel for him, you really do. Feeling him shake like a leaf from the anticipation of plunging his cock so far up into you. And you allow it.

You leaned down further, allowing just the head to sink in. He groans out your name the moment you slipped him back out, just to repeat the process once again now easing yourself all the way down on him. You stiffed a moan yourself, humming along with the series of loud whiny noises escaping his mouth.

“No more ignoring me, Koo.” You rolled your hips up. “If we have a problem, we should address it. Right?” You circled, bobbing yourself on his cock. “Right?” Your hands found perch on his chest, pinching his nipples enough to harden them and forcing an animalistic growl out from Jungkook.

He gasps, choking out breaths, “Right!” his eyes skewed shut. Jungkook’s wrists were bleeding, pinned together tightly. His lust fogged mind wished to get his hands on you, to guide the movements of your hips or even flip you over just to pound himself inside your cunt.

His eyes opened just enough to stare at the way your body moved on top of him, a small raspy groan leaving him. God you look like a delicious treat – he’s even questioning himself how he lasted this long without taking you before.

The pants that hugged his thighs were preventing him from widening his legs. The fabric softening the blow of your ass landing down on him. The stinging burn of pain mixed with the immense pleasure of your pussy clenching around his smooth cock has got him spinning down in spirals.

“I – I’m, Noona. So close.”

“No.” You asserted, slowing down your pace to a halt. “Not yet.”

Jungkook kicked his feet out, eyes blown wide. “What, Why!?” His cock twitched inside of you the same way his hips jerked up.

“Bite me first.” Your wrist made its way in front of Jungkook’s mouth. His tongue swiped out licking your delicate skin. His mouth latches onto you with no hesitation, the sharpness of his fangs burying themselves inside forcing you to hiss at the sudden infliction.

It was like biting into a peach, liquid spilling all over her mouth. Jungkook sucked with fervor, drinking down your delectable juicy liquid while his hips jutted up into you. He wanted you to continue, keep moving before his orgasm gets denied. He muffled a cry against your bleeding wrist when you swivel your hips at a certain angle.

You were panting in the open air, picking up your speed to meet his urgency. Face gorgeously flustered, unshed tears sparkling from Jungkook’s eyes. Your blood pushed Jungkook over the edge, freefalling down into a pit of pure bliss. He chases his orgasm, using a sharp uncoordinated sloppy thrust to bury his cock deep inside your cunt as he came. Cum jetting out of him in streams like a fountain.

His fangs retracted from your wrist, being replaced with light butterfly kisses over the wounded area. Jungkook flops back to the pillow, short of breath. Portions of your blood smeared around his lips and also his dick.

“Holy shit – “ his words faltered.

You gave him his moment, allowing him to take it all in before you moved off of him. Lifting your body off of Jungkook he cuts your action with a sharp tone, “Where are you going?” His eyes dawdled on your exposed body, forcing you to freeze mid pull-out.

“I? I was going to clean up?”

He shook his head frantically, “Don’t get off me just yet. Ah. You didn’t cum – I want to make you cum.” Jungkook edged his hips up with a spasm of overstimulation, his member hiding back inside of you. “Sit back down on me please.”

He was softening inside of you; you can feel it slowly shrink and the idea of cock-warming to get you off wasn’t something that sounded promising.

“Kook, it’s really okay. I don’t need to.”

“I want you to. Get me out of these chains.”

You sighed, leaning forward enough to hold Jungkook’s cock inside of your super slippery walls. Giving Jungkook the opportunity to place hot open-mouth kisses to your breasts that dangled down in front of him. The make-shift bondage was released, pulling the chains off of his ruined wrists. They’ll heal back shortly anyways.

His hands latched to your waist in a blink of an eye, digging his nails into your skin. There was a pool of mixed liquids between the two of you, glistening in the light. He didn’t bother to yank his pants off, he wanted to focus on you instead. He guided you to run your hips a certain way, tilting them down so your clit can run against his pelvis.

“Hold me inside you, can you do that for me Noona? I’ll get hard again just by watching you use me.”

His voice was filthy whispering those sentences in the air. Involuntarily causing you to clutch around his dick.

“Ah – just like that,’ he cooed. “Play with me, do what you want.”

He continued to pilot your lower half on him, running your drenched pussy into him. Your breath turned labored; clit throbbing with sensitivity from the build up of stimulation. Your hands ran the expanse of his chest, his biceps, around his collarbones and up. Finger’s interlacing with the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He was bringing you close to your release just as his cock started stiffening back up. Your breath caught in your throat, a brief squirm of your body reacting to his dick prodding into your sweet spot.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure taking over your face. “Right there?” Jungkook taunted. “You like my dick against that spot?” You nodded like a bobble-head. He moved you again, repeating the action.

You never noticed how your hips were moving on their own accord now, how greedy you were being as you used your roommate as a pleasure toy. A very hot, sexy, vampiric sex toy indeed.

The moans escaping you were coming out as a song, heighten with each second your lower stomach started tingling. It was happening. You were at the brink of your orgasm, railing your clit into Jungkook. “Fu – fuck. Kook!” Your eyes clamped shut and your bottom lip was bruising from your demanding teeth. “I’m so – gasps – im so close.”

You practically hiccuped the moment his fingers pinched your bundle of nerves, tweaking it between the two digits. Forcing your body to thrust forward with a maddened cry. Orgasm after orgasm erupted through you, vibrations shooting through your body the same way you squirted all around Jungkook.

Jungkook caught you before you could collapse on top of him, sitting his body up so he could hold you in his arms. He petted your hair as you rested your head in the crook of his neck trying to calm down from the aftershocks of your numbing body.

“Hey, it’s alright, I gotcha.”

The warmth of your body captivated him. Your smell of arousal and blood dampening his body and sheets are sure to stir some problems in the future if he didn’t get it cleaned up quickly.

“Thanks…” you murmured under your breath, inhaling his manly scent.

“Clean I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded, circling your arms a and latching your legs around him. Exhaustion was whipping over you and you swore you started to see stars in your peripherals. What was it about Jungkook that caused the best orgasms you’ve ever received?

He chuckled, “Noona, I’m still inside you right now. If I’m gonna clean you up, I need to be able to move. You’ve made a mess everywhere.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to get a better view of your blush fucked-out face.

“I feel a little weak.” You embarrassingly whispered.

“Of course you do – I fed on your blood. And you came about 3 times in a row.” He held you tighter, shifting himself to swing his legs to the edge of the bed. Everywhere was soaked. Leaking fluids colliding with anything it touched. It was then he decided sleeping in your clean bed will be easier for the both of you. “I’ll get you something filled with vitamins to help you replenish.” He gave a quick peck to your temple, examining the way you dozed off.

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

[master-sass-blast]

The Color of Our Love.

I LIVEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Summary: You and Piotr take the next step in making your house a home: painting the walls.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: G.

Word Count: 1.5k.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

Taglist:  @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

It’s the smell that gets to you the most. You’re used to soaring through the skies, drawing in gulps of fresh, pure air into your lungs. You’re used to smelling sun-warmed grass and fresh flowers and the dampness of rain in the air once a storm’s passed and—

“How do you deal with this?” You grimace, rubbing the bridge of your nose as your husband opens cans of paints and pours them into the trays meant for roller brushes. “I’m gonna get a headache.”

“You get used to it,” Piotr says as he unwraps the detachable brush head for his roller brush. He smiles sympathetically when you start massaging your temples and pats your shoulder reassuringly. “We can open windows. And take breaks.”

The two of you are starting the next leg of your journey to making your house a home: painting. Neither of you like looking at bland white walls.

It’s been a long process, though, of quibbling over color options, making sure those options match with the other choices for other rooms (as needed), and planning out which rooms to do when so you don’t inadvertently spend a whole paycheck on cans of paint.

You two decided to start in the master bedroom, for the sake of simplicity down the line.

Impatient, you pick up one of the paintbrushes Piotr had purchased for edging around window and door frames and smear a thick stripe of paint over an empty stretch of wall. “Chop chop, baby! We’re wasting daylight!”

Piotr laughs, loading up a roller brush with paint and letting the excess drip back into the tray. “After you, myshka.”

The two of you work for a while, chatting aimlessly while you transform the room from a sterile sea of white to something much homier –and less likely to cause eyestrain. Piotr handles outlining the window and door frames so there’s guidelines for the rollers and takes care of the high spots, while you flit around the room, alternating between the regular brusher and a roller brush as you fill in the places your husband’s prepped for you.

Eventually, though, your self-control starts to wane –and then your opportunity presents itself on a silver platter.

Piotr’s got his back to you. He’s working on painting the parts of the wall near the ceiling.

And, on prime display in a pair of old gym shorts, is his butt.

(God, he has a fantastic butt. Perfectly sculpted by innumerable squats and obscene amounts of protein bars. You can bounce a quarter off his ass –and, yes, you’re speaking from experience.

Not that you’d warned Piotr what you were planning on doing when you’d tried it.)

You bite on your lower lip, trying to stifle your excited giggles as you coat your hand with paint from your brush. Then, before Piotr can turn around, you dash across the room and smack your hand against his rear.

Piotr yelps. Jumps. Whirls around, twists to look at his backside, then faces you. His eyes are wide, mouth hanging open in a smile, as if to say, “did you really just do that?” Then, his grin broadens as he paints his own hand with his roller brush. “It is on.”

“No!” You squeal and sprint away, darting around your bedroom as you try to evade your husband’s pursuit of vengeance.

There’s only so much space, though, and your husband’s a large man. He catches you eventually, snagging you with his clean hand and locking you against him with his arm before pressing his paint-covered hand against your chest.

You bust out laughing, leaning back against his solid, warm chest; there’s not much point in trying to run away, now that you’ve been caught. “Not on my boob!”

“Serves you right,” Piotr teases, nuzzling against your cheek. “Naughty myshka.”

You tip your head back and grin up at him. “Yours.”

He grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours.

 ***

 Fumes aside, there’s not a single other thing you dislike about the painting process. It’s incredible to watch the bedroom slowly transform before your eyes.

“It’s like the feeling off the room has changed,” you comment as Piotr works on the delicate edging work near the crown molding; the two of you had opted for a soft, pastel color for the bedroom to promote rest and relaxation. “It feels cozier now. More relaxing.”

“Da.” He lays down a careful line along the crown molding –miraculously not getting so much as a speck of paint on the pure white border, which is why he’s doing this job and you are not—then dips his brush back into the pint can in his hand. “Is color psychology. Impacts our mood, perception of room.”

“I like it.” You stretch your arms, smiling as you admire the freshly painted walls. “It feels like it’s ours now.”

Piotr nods. He smiles as he finishes the last of the edgework, then sets his paint can down next to the roller tray. “Shall we rinse brushes, then take break for lunch before starting work downstairs?”

“I like the sound of the lunch part,” you say, offering up an impish grin.

“How about this,” Piotr chuckles. “I will rinse brushes, and you can make us lunch.”

“Okay, yes. Sounds great!” You shove your paintbrush into Piotr’s hand, then quickly skip out of the room and float down the stairs. “Love you!”

Piotr’s laughter echoes down the hall after you.

 ***

 “Oh, yeah. This is it. This is how I want to work from now on.”

Piotr glances over his shoulder at you. A smirk tugs at his lips. “You are sitting on couch while I paint.”

“Correction!” You hold up your index finger. “I am sitting on the couch while you paint and staring at your butt. It’s a very integral part of the process.”

Piotr snorts and shakes his head. His cheeks flush –and, even though he’s trying to hide it, you can see the bashful smile playing on his lips. “My apologies, myshka. How could I forget?”

“I get it. I doubt you spend much time staring at your own butt –which, really is such a shame; you’ve got an amazing ass, babe.”

He laughs and shakes his head once more.

The reason he’s working and you’re not –aside from the obvious superiority of sitting down and staring at your husband’s ass—is because the family room and kitchen require a lot of edge work. You’d offered to help… and then gotten paint all over the baseboards, light switches, window frames, and crown molding within fifty seconds of starting.

You just don’t have the patience –or Piotr’s well-practiced, steady hand.

“Are you still going to do the zhostovo mural in the kitchen?” you ask as you watch Piotr work.

“Da. I have sketches in art studio, if you want look.”

You’re never one to pass up on seeing Piotr’s art, so you hop of the couch and scamper down the hall to his art studio.

Since Piotr’s art studio is fastidiously organized, it’s no trouble at all to find the sketchbook with the mural sketches in them. You flip through it until you find the various drawings of the bright, richly colored flowers, then lean against his desk as you gaze down at the page.

The bulk of the mural –which, based on Piotr’s sketches, looks like it’s going to be in the center of the wall between the fridge and the coffee counter—is comprised of large, delicately curved flowers. Roses, daisies, poppies, cornflowers… all of them weave together, bowing outward in dramatic flourishes of color. Vibrant green blades of grass form the base of the main mural, moving with the arcs of the flowers and leaves. You can see a few different designs for some edgework –to be placed on the edges and corners of the wall, so as to frame the main part of the mural—made of varying bits of filigree, Russian lettering, and tiny, white and purple tinged blooms.

You grin. Your fingers trace over the various filigree designs Piotr had been testing out. Wow. You amble back into the main room, gaze still focused on your husband’s designs. “These are amazing, sweetheart.”

“Spasibo, myshka.” Piotr looks up from his lining work, watching you –almost apprehensively—as you study his artwork. “Do you like design?”

“Piotr… I love it.” You let out a small, stunned laugh; as if there was ever a chance you wouldn’t like his art. “It’s so beautiful. It’s going to look perfect in the kitchen.”

Piotr ducks his head, cheeks flushing. His lips curve into a pleased smile. “Thank you, dorogoy.”

“Do you know which border you’re going to pick?”

“Not yet.” He shrugs. “Cannot find right ‘feel.’”

“You’ll get there,” you reassure him. “I kind of like the one you paired the Cyrillic. What does it say?”

“Is blessing,” Piotr explains. “Moya babushka made for family home, in Siberia. Illyana would have to do magic for it, but I liked idea of including words in design.”

“I like it, too.” You close the sketchbook and set it carefully on the coffee table (where it’ll be safe from potential paint splatters), then walk up behind Piotr and wrap your arms around his waist. “We have a home,” you murmur as you nuzzle your face against his back.

Piotr lets out a delighted giggle. His free hand clasps both of yours. “That we do, lyublyu.”

“I love you, Piotr. So much.”

“And I love you, Y/N, so very much, too.”

[anika-ann]

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - Pt.2

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & Part 3),  Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock & reader        

Word count: 2600

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a wanted man and you don’t have Steve’s back; ableit for good reasons. And then it gets worse.

Warnings: mentions of terorrist attack, mentions of violence and death, language, angst

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing them and kinda expecting the readers to know what’s up ;)

Posted in double chapters (1st &2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1)

Previous part

────── ·❆· ──────  

3. (Running to Stand Still)

Back at the hotel after the funeral, another punch straight to his face came; all news channels were broadcasting about an attack in Vienna, exactly where the conference about The Sokovia Accords was taking place. Several people had been killed and the king of Wakanda had been among them.

And they had a suspect: James Buchanan Barnes.

Now Steve was hundred percent sure the world had gone crazy and the universe simply hated him.

“I have to go,” were the first words coming out of his mouth.

You sighed behind him, your fist against your mouth. This was officially the worst day ever.

“And I have to go to work,” Sharon uttered, watching the news as horrified as everyone else in the room. Except for Steve; for him, the tragedy was to be measured on a whole different scale.

“I… I should go to work too.”

Steve’s head snapped to you in shock, his heart positively stopping. Were you… were you gonna come after Bucky too? After Steve’s best friend? Who had clearly nothing to do with this, because he had disappeared from the face of Earth and was definitely not bombing conference rooms with the highest representatives of 117 countries?

Your eyes were a sea of regrets and dilemmas when his accusing glare met with them. It mollified him a little – after all, you didn’t know Bucky. Sure, you heard stories about him, every single one Steve could remember because you were willing to listen, but you weren’t even close to truly knowing his persona.

“I understand, Steve. He’s your friend. He’s done terrible things, but you believe in redemption. I love that about you. And you know I trust your judgement. If you believe this wasn’t him… I trust you. But… I don’t know if I should come with you. With all the tension building up, if I don’t show up at work…”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, not liking it at all; but you were right. They had better chance at getting to Bucky – who might not even be in Vienna for all they knew – if it was just him and Sam coming. Lower profile.

Also, it kinda meant a lot that you were still putting so much trust in his judgement, at least when it came to people’s character.

“You’re right. You should go with Sharon. We don’t know what happens, even if we succeed. I… I can’t ask you to come with me.”

Your expression shifted into a gentle one, the worries softening into something much more affectionate. It surprised him to be honest – and he instantly felt bad for thinking ill of you. He knew you were a kind person. Why was he letting the circumstance make him doubt it?

“You could, Steve. And if I believed I would be helpful, I would come. I know we don’t agree on everything… but the only reason why I’m not coming along is because I believe it’s a way to make it easier for you.”

He gulped, taking a hesitant step towards you. The moment you noticed the tinniest movement of his arms as if he was debating himself whether he should at least hug you goodbye, you threw your smaller arms around him, enveloping him in a warm embrace. Steve closed his eyes at the feeling, welcoming the indescribable relief at the little piece of familiarity in this terrible mess. Having you in his arms always felt right.

“Good luck, Steve. Please, be careful,” you muttered into his suit and he let himself to have a few more moments of peace, pulling you closer so your body could almost merge with his. He took a deep breath with his face nuzzled in your hair, enveloped in everything that was you.

No matter the dispute you two had going on, it felt good to know some things didn’t change and he could find a support in you in the time of crisis after all.

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Steve barely managed to step on the breaks and swerve the wheel before he would crash into the debris in full speed. He jumped out of the car, having to sprint in front of the vehicle so it wouldn’t smashed him against the road since it overturned and was now coming his direction uncontrollably.

His escape turned into a chase when he saw a person in what could be a costume (an armour?) of a wild black cat standing over Bucky’s lying figure.

And then he caught a glimpse of a movement coming from above.

You landed gracefully next to the tangled mess of limps of Bucky and the assailant, a mass of ice sending the strange figure flying off Steve’s friend. Steve stopped abruptly since he had no one he wanted to throw off now and for a second, he allowed himself to breathe in. He had no idea where the hell had you come from, but he was eternally grateful. And a little bit scared for you, because he had seen what the metal claws of your opponent could do.

Your hand hit the ground, walls of thick ice shielding you all from cars coming from both directions, slightly curved on the tops to cover you from the sky where the flapping of the approaching helicopter was coming from. The panther figure was not included in your little shelter.

Bucky climbed to his feet, staring at you with his eyes wide in shock. Steve wasn’t any less shocked to be honest – but unlike his friend, he was more baffled at you materializing out of nowhere than your powers.

You all heard the sirens approaching rapidly from behind the icy shield, just like you could hear scratching of the metal claws against your barrier reaching tens feet to your right and left. Steve quickly looked around for the quickest and safest escape route as the loudspeaker-powered voice almost deafened you all.

“You’re surrounded-“

Steve sprung to his right, but he didn’t manage a single step. Columns of ice trapped his legs from the ground, reaching above his knees, his shield knocked out of his hands as he was hit by a burst of your powers. He gasped when he saw Bucky unable to move as well and he shot you a desperately perplexed look.

The wall around them melted just enough for you to come through with your hands above your head – about forty riffles immediately aimed at you, together with Rhodey’s repulsors. You sought a leader of the bust and since you didn’t find anyone else, you spoke to the man in the metal suit.

“They surrender,” you exclaimed firmly. “Don’t shoot.”

Steve glared at your back in disbelief, his adrenalin spiking to dizzying levels. What the hell did you just do?!

Rhodey nodded and you glanced at the man in a black costume, only to see no other than the son of the recently deceased king of Wakanda. Prince T’Challa.

Steve honestly thought this was the weirdest nightmare he had ever dreamed. Except it wasn’t a dream; the walls of ice slowly went down, revealing just how many men were ready to shoot at him and Bucky from both the front and the back.

You slowly lowered your hands, putting them behind your back so the agents could cuff you as well. But Rhodey just patted your back to let you know they were not gonna arrest you.

“Good job, kid.”

You grimaced and looked up at Steve. His eyes glinted behind his mask as he watched you with an emotion you certainly didn’t want to decode.

The shock of the Black Panther revealing his face was nothing. The icy needles cutting into his skin and muscles were nothing.

What burned him the most was your betrayal. Yes, you had iced T’Challa away, but you also stole their last chance to run – and what was worse, you had used your powers against him. Against him. You had done something he had thought terrified you, the memory of giving him a frostbite still haunting you. But here you were, doing what you had done so many years ago – except this time deliberately.

He saw the tears in your eyes, the desperate and torn expression on your face as the agents approached him and you let the ice around his hands melt so he could be cuffed. Then his legs were free too, but he couldn’t care less, feeling frozen from the inside.

What Steve couldn’t see was the three different snipers positioned at the edge of the pillars previously aiming at each of them, now with their guns cracking under the extremely low temperature, and their hands buried in ice. What he hadn’t seen before you let the walls crumble, was the number of men with itchy fingers, now lowering their weapons because the suspects were secured. Blinded by the anger, he couldn’t see a lot of things.

He couldn’t see you had just saved their lives.

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4. (Poisoned Words)

Steve knew – he had known the moment you hadn’t gone after him when he had stormed out of the room after the fight with Tony. He had known you had made up your mind a long time ago – and not even the idea of Wanda being practically held prisoner had changed your spirit. He had known when he hadn’t seen you fight after the psychiatrist did something to his best friend – neither the brainwashed escaping Bucky, neither anyone else at the facility.

Yet it still broke his heart when you hadn’t showed up at the airport with Sharon, who had brought their gear. The shield. Falcon’s wings. He should be grateful to Agent Carter, but it still felt as if she had come empty-handed. She didn’t bring the most important item. You. But that wasn’t on her.

“She’s staying with Wanda Maximoff. Keeping her company,” Sharon said simply as if she guessed Steve’s thoughts and he nodded hastily, pretending the incredibly tight knot in his stomach didn’t exist. That he could breathe. That he didn’t want to scream, but could easily draw enough air into his lungs to do so. That he didn’t feel tears prickle in his eyes.

“Thank you, Sharon. I owe you.”

“I’ll put it on the list. Right under this,” she said softly, pulling out an envelope from the inner pocket of her jacket.

Steve sucked in a breath as she held it out for him. Mentally, he let out a sarcastic laugh. A letter. You had left him a letter. Just words. Just like when you had left him the last time when you abandoned him, even for a whole different reason. The last time, you were protecting him; this time, you were protecting yourself.

Steve wondered if this was you laughing to his face. He didn’t even want the stupid piece of paper.

“Thanks, but… if it’s from the person I think it is, I don’t want it.”

That was a lie.

He did want it. He itched to have it. He craved for it, because he would love to hear what you had to say to all this. To him. Were you trying to justify your actions? How? Was it because you truly believed you were so bad in your core? Because your insecurity about you keeping control over your powers rooted so deep? Or because you didn’t believe he was doing the right thing, you didn’t believe his judgement anymore? Were you thinking he was not doing the right thing, saving a man, who had been turned into a weapon against his will, becoming just a tool?

It didn’t matter. You weren’t here.  Whatever you had to tell him, it didn’t seem to matter, because you leaving him in lurch hurt so fucking badly.

He almost jumped when a small hand took his and he snapped from his trance, seeking the point of contact with his gaze. Sharon gently uncurled his fingers, pressing the envelope to his palm. When he met her eyes, they burned with sincerity and seriousness.

“She was very desperate for me to get this to you. She sought me out – because she figured I would come to your aid. Don’t underestimate her, Steve. Don’t judge her. I believe that the letter is truly important.”

Steve sighed, but tugged the envelope into the pocket of his jacket, planning on reading it never. Probably. Maybe someday. Who knew what was next. Who knew if he’d live that long.

Sharon smiled at him reassuringly and helped him to move the equipment to the trunk of their distinctive get-away car. The letter stayed in his jacket, burning with the tinniest hope. Maybe Clint would bring you along with Wanda, since you were staying with her. Maybe…

He didn’t.

He gave Steve an apologetic and pitying look instead; it only made the supersoldier sick. Because now, he was nothing but sure you didn’t give a damn about either him or doing the right thing.

And he had no clue how he had never seen it before. It almost looked like he should be grateful that you hadn’t stopped Clint and Wanda from wandering off at least. God, he had been so stupid—

“Steve-“ Wanda started from behind Clint, her voice sounding urgent,  but from her expression, Steve could tell the matter she wanted to talk about; he just shook his head.

“Good to see you, Wanda. Thank you for coming,” he said with a strained smile, pushing the thoughts of you to the back of his mind. They didn’t have time for his self-pity now.  

She returned the smile hastily, but opened her mouth again to speak.

“Please don’t. Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

“But you should-”

“Not now,” he opposed sternly, regretting his tone when Wanda winced. “Please,” he said, softer. “Not now, Wanda.”

Clint’s gaze flickered between them, unsure whether he should intervene. Honestly, he wasn’t quite certain what was happening between you and Steve, or how much bad blood the Accords poured between the two of you. He had noticed what could be a brief wordless exchange between you and Wanda at the compound and assumed you had wanted Wanda to send your sorry to Steve. He could understand why Steve didn’t want to hear it, especially now, but that was as far as his knowledge of the situation went.

“Clint, thank you. I wouldn’t call you if I had another choice,” Steve turned to him, a tiny grateful smile on his lips. His face spoke volumes about a lot of things, but Clint could tell the gratitude was genuine. He accepted his hand and shook it.

“Hey, trust me, you’re doing me a favour. And I owe a debt.”

Steve just nodded in acknowledgement when he noticed the tiny gesture towards Wanda.

“Thank you both for having my back.”

“It was time to get off my ass. I know where my loyalty lies. And I’m not the only one,” the Scarlet Witch commented lowly.

It earned her a raised eyebrow from Clint when Steve drew in a sharp breath.

Fuck, that hurt.

Steve would think it was just a slip, but the Sokovian tilted her head to side almost mockingly as if she knew exactly what she had said and was provoking him on purpose. Challenging him for whatever reason. Steve swallowed against the lump suddenly grown in his throat.

“What about our other recruit?”

And with that, the matter of you not coming along was dropped.

Steve wished he could get rid of the thoughts about you and his feelings just as easily.  

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Part 3 (the fifth time and the +1)

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Thank you for reading!