#idk if its too sharp oops

[danrifics]

[x]

[remxedmoon]

“the valiant bison. it leaps to protect its fellow creatures, but not you.”

hooved

2 power - 8 health - 3 blood

protector - when a creature on this card’s side of the field is about to take damage, this card will jump forward to take the hit instead.

sharp quills - once a card bearing this sigil is struck, the striker is then dealt a single damage point.

BISABEAU!! YIPEEE! and a fancy custom sigil to go with him! wow! writeup below, as always

that custom sigil huh!! i had to rewrite that description SO MANY TIMES and it STILL ISN’T PERFECT GRAAAA. i couldn’t fit it into the proper description, but isa’ll return to his original spot after taking the hits. he basically redirects all attacks on his teammates to himself. like a moleman but in reverse.

also ^ he won’t try to protect terrain cards! because that’s a boulder. not his friends. the entire concept around the sigil is based around him protecting his friends from harm.

sharp quills is there to let him counterattack while covering for his allies! fun fact, in my original concept for this card, this was replaced with the mighty leap sigil?? for some reason??? even though airborne cards can’t attack cards on the field?????? idk what my thought process there was. thank god i caught that before finalizing his card

don’t ask how he has sharp quills btw. it’s uhh. his horns. yes. the quills are his horns.

i went back and forth between calling him a bison or a buffalo. his design was based more on water buffalo than american bison? but i ended up going with bison just because it was shorter lol. plus the bisabeau pun. i am beholden to the pun.

you might’ve noticed that the patch is in a different spot here! i couldn’t find a spot that didn’t cover an important part of the card. so i had to go through the miserable experience of moving the patch and cutting it out even more thoroughly to prevent it from messing up the pixels around it. somehow that damn patch was harder to make than the CUSTOM SIGIL.

speaking of the sigil patch. he gets burrower! which makes him move to any empty space that’s about to be attacked. functionally, this means that ALL damage on the board will get redirected to him. except for airborne attacks i guess

this card doesn’t have a hidden trait! and there’s a reason for that! because…

“a meek, unassuming calf. it has not yet learned its own strength.”

hooved

0 power - 2 health - 2 blood

fledgling - a card bearing this sigil will grow into a more powerful form after 1 turn on the board.

clinger - when one of your creatures is placed in a space, a card bearing this sigil will move towards them as far as possible.

TWO CARDS!! he gets to have a fledgling form :3

fledgling is self explanatory i think? i wanted to keep some kind of reference to his Change and this was the best way i could think of! lil baby thing based on his past self…

clinger is a sigil from act 3! it’s like. only on the lonely wizbot i think. initially i was just going to give them sprinter (which makes them move to a different space after attacking) but it felt… too similar to the elk fawn for my liking. and it felt more appropriate character-wise

this card is also part of the reason why i went with bison. buffalo calf is a long name!!!

idk how well it comes across but they have their lil braid!! i wanted to include the glasses in some way but it felt a little out of place with the card design. so they only have the braids. a necessary sacrifice

i realize that burrower is a TERRIBLE sigil for this card but! i had to keep it consistent with his mature form. hope your bison calf doesn’t fling itself into danger and die! oops!

that’s everything to do with these cards! phew! that was a lot of text. here’s the patchless versions!

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, slow burn!

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii part iii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,” He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.

next part

credit 🩷:

@kiyaedits - baby pink dividers, @sweetxmelody - cherry blossom divider

*note: taglist open!! comment to be tagged in part 2 :)

[whousestypewriters]

photos of you - grayson hawthorne x reader

pairing: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: swearing [like one word] kissing + flufffffff

a/n: so grayson my pookie wookie is getting a fic hehe! should i write a synopsis at the begining of each fic? idk im too lazy to do it rn lol -also its kinda short so sorry

"grayson!" you shriek when you enter his bedroom.

its plain and simple - like grayson - except nothing like grayson because anyone who's met him knows that grayson hawthorne isn't plain or simple.

he's smart, cunning, always sharply dressed - and man does he look good in a suit. like seriously he's so toned and muscly - which you may or may not know after having snuck out to watch him swim once... or twice... okay you do it all the time - he's like a freaking greek god in the form of a human-

sorry what?

got off track there. oops.

anywayyyy

you storm into grayson's room absolutely livid, pacing back and forth in front of a slightly amused grayson.

"like seriously she was such a bitch!" you say swinging around to face him again. "she actually called me the sloppy immature freak. can you believe it? like seriously that girl wouldn't know hard work if it gave her a high five... in the face... with a chair!"

you spin around again resuming your pacing continuing on before he can say anything.

"and to come at me during work-" your eyes catch onto grayson's open computer. "hey, what's that?"

all but forgetting your rant about the bitchy co-worker of yours, you move over to grayson's desk and plop down into his chair, focusing on the laptop in front of you.

"are these from our date last saturday?" you ask when you feel his presence at your back.

"yeah, i took a few and then had the flower stall vendor take some as well," his rich voice reaches down to your ears.

you flick through the photos your heart melting with each one he took. most are photos of you not paying attention to him and looking around happily at the park you were at. pure happiness shines in your eyes and you lean back into grayson silently thanking him and complimenting him on his work.

"its all you," he whispers as if he read your mind.

you instantly pause when you reach a photo of you both. you're looking at the camera smiling at the kind vendor but grayson. grayson.

he's looking at you like you're his entire world. like he'd willingly give up everything just to see you happy. the pure love, adoration and devotion in his eyes almost brings you to tears.

god you loved him.

"i like this one," you squeak out, still

"why's that?"

"because you can see how much you love me," you smile getting up out of your seat and wrapping your arms around his neck. "you look at me like i'm your world, gray."

"you are," he whispers wrapping his arms around your waist, smiling softly. you love how he lets this, softer, calmer, less rigid side of himself be shown with you. grayson is all sharp edges and cutting looks to the outside world, so it always seems to warm your heart that you get to be apart of this piece of him.

"i love you," you smile sweetly up at him and press a soft kiss to his lips. "so much."

"i love you," grayson says quietly. "more than you know."

later on when you've left, grayson makes quick work of emailing the photos off to a printing store, wanting you to have copies as soon as possible and making his favourite photo - the one of you grinning at the camera, or more like the person behind the camera, him - his lockscreen.

he'll never admit it to anyone else but he has always had a photo of you as his lockscreen, always, even from the early stages of your relationship. he had felt like he was keeping a small piece of you with him, a small piece of your happiness that seeps into his cold harsh behaviour when he's working.

so its a habit to save those pictures to the album he has on his phone and computer. its a habit to have the photos printed out and sent to your flat along with a bouquet of flowers.

its a habit to be grinning for hours in his room after you left.

its a habit to go scrolling through the albums and albums of photos he has of you. because honestly? out of all the places grayson has been, all the different photos and emotions he's caught on camera, out of all them,

photos of you are his favourite.

[taglist] @nqds, @nuncscioquidsitamor-14, @lxvebelle, @reminiscentreader, @ [if you wanted to be added or removed lemme know!]

a/n pt2: lol i think it kinda deteriorated at the end there.

[blublublujk]

i just fucked your girl (and she loved it)

oneshot

word count: 11k

genre: established relationship (reader x namjoon), dark/morally gray characters and decisions

pairings: ghost hoseok x y/n and y/n x fiancé namjoon

summary:

A very lonely, horny ghost comes to haunt your dreams (and fulfills your every sexual desire).

warnings: oh my god get ready this is gonna get long. swearing, cheating?? (is it really cheating if he's dead? i'll let you decide), explicit sexual content; sexual "nightmares", unprotected vaginal sex AND anal (ITS TIME :D), rough sex, sub/dom dynamics, no safe word, submission, dirty talk, hoseok refers to people he comes across as victims (he doesn't force anyone i promise, not unless they want to ofc), masturbation, fingering, petplay? (the reader likes being called kitten), slight hand kink, slut shaming (oopsies), use of spit (oops again), use of lube, hickeys, lots of begging, hoseok's a bit mean but the ending will make it up a bit ISTG, namjoon's an innocent sweetheart, reader feels a lot of guilt, ass play (YAY), rimming (YAY pt2), mentions to gay sex and clown kink (you'll see), hoseok's like a ghost sex worker and the reader sorta manifests him, sex toys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, come shot, blowjob, hair pulling, daddy kink, breast play, creampie, a bit of a sad/angsty ending, so sorry if anything is missing I RLLY TRIED

btw there's sex scenes between namjoon and the reader AND hoseok and the reader so they both get their share.

a.n: happy fucking halloween. sorry this got a little sad towards the end, but i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i think i'll live in this world for a while. i'm so obsessed with this probably, my favorite work yet. i think this is my smuttiest work too? idk. i was gonna delete like half of it because i hate myself sometimes but i figured you guys would enjoy something a little longer so i typed and typed until my lil heart desired and this beast was created. btw i finished this at exactly 6:13pm. i thought i'd let yall know, if anyone's as crazy as me :D im so curious what you guys think about this one so feel free to comment (only if you want too ofc ^.^) idk when i'll be back with something new but please be patient with me. i promise im not leaving lol i just get busy. OKIE THIS IS SO LONG SORRY AND ENJOY. byeee <3

p.s. i do plan to write an epilogue cuz this got crazy at the end. so much left unsaid. my brain is sooo... lol

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

--

It was the same damn nightmare. 

For the past three weeks you had been waking up in coldsweat, heart nearly beating out of your chest, breathing so out of control. You could barely hold yourself up.

And still somehow, you woke up drenching your panties of your own slick arousal.

It was the same nightmare from yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that. You would end up in a dark, ominous apartment. It was yours, but somehow different. The apartment was pitch black, flashing red lights from time-to-time, as if someone in the building had pulled the emergency alarm. You would crumble in your bed, closing your eyes and praying it would end soon. That’s when he would appear. 

A man in all black, long dark tousled hair. His teeth were bright, you could tell by the smile on his face while he watched you wither away in your sheets. The glow in his dull, sharp eyes would shine even in the dark. 

He watched as you squirmed in your bed, feeling heavy, unable to stand by your own strength.

“Don’t force it, darling. Take what you need.” The stranger would say with a strong raspy tone, smelling your arousal fall into the sheets below your bottom. You were always bare in your nightmares as if you were waiting and submitting for him.

You couldn’t resist the feeling. At his call, your fingers would come to relieve the ache between your thighs. Playing with yourself as if you were alone, but it was far from the truth. He would watch as you pumped yourself two fingers deep, sighing and whimpering, satisfied that you no longer felt empty. 

Sometimes, well no most times, he would join you in your nightmares. He would tear your hands from your leaking cunt sparing mercy and you would complain against your sheets. The stranger wasn’t that bad, not for long at least, because he would fill you with his own two fingers, his eyes would dilate watching you fall apart. He was smooth and precise, he would curve his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on target, loving the sinful sounds you made as you arched your back and yelled moans without holding back. 

Once he was satisfied and right as you were about to explode, he would pull away, whipping his hard, swollen cock out of his pants and tugs on himself, forcing you to watch as he pleased himself . Of course you wanted it, but this was so wrong, very wrong. 

The worst part is he wouldn’t just give it to you, he would make you beg for it. “Talk to me baby, you want it?”

You would shake your head, denying him and trying to pull yourself from under him, but realistically it is all you wanted. You wanted to taste the beads that fell from the slit of his hard cock. He was fucking big and that itself made you go fucking insane, his hands wrapped around his length nicely. You tried to stop your thoughts from going any further, but your imagination was a powerful thing, thinking about how his pretty hands would feel wrapped around your throat instead of his dick. 

“Oh, you don’t? Maybe I’ll just leave you like this then.” He would say and it fucked with your head. 

That was the last thing you wanted. “But– m’ so empty.”

“Then beg for it slut, you don’t have to be empty and lonely for long.” His tongue was smooth and wet against your skin as he licked down your throat, sucking little marks onto your skin. He had you wrapped around his fucking fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You wanted to move but at the same time, you wanted him to have his way with you. God can forgive you for this later. 

“I c-can’t.” 

“What a shame. I’ll just take care of myself and leave you here to watch.” He would start pumping his cock faster, tugging at the crown of his length. 

You made an agonizing sound of complaint. “Please.”

“Please what little kitten?” 

He was mean. So mean. 

And you were fucking stupid. 

“Please, f-fuck me.” You begged so sweetly.

The man would smile sinisterly before shoving himself deep inside you, forcing a scream of pleasure. He was not gentle in any way and you fucking liked that. As sick as it was.

He fucked you like his only mission was to make you come and drive you insane, pushing your legs far apart and brutally fucking deep into your walls.

He would watch you fall into your sheets, murmuring noncoherent words, completely submitting to the stranger you fell apart in his complete mercy. 

What an honor. 

“That's it baby. Squirt all over my dick.” His voice was always deep and you swore you could hear a smirk between his words. 

Like magic his words would rip intense orgasms out of you and he would fuck you through them all until you eventually collapsed unconscious.

You wake up in a gasp, the wet feeling between your legs nearly makes you gag. 

This can’t be. Not again.

“Baby, wake up.” A voice calls gently, soft hands soothe your back, patting and rubbing gently. “It’s just a nightmare, love. I’m here.”

“Joonie?”

“Yes baby. I’m here, go back to bed. I’ve got you.” His calm voice manages to settle the beating drum of your heart and still, this is the exact problem with these recurring nightmares. 

Even as your fiancé rubs circles into your back, all you can think of is the hands of that strange man that would fuck you into a delrious state. You hated it. It felt too close to cheating. 

If only Namjoon saw what your nightmares truly consisted of, he would be horrified and disgusted. Every night was worse, the guilt slowly started building in the pit of your stomach as you would daydream about the nightmare over and over and over. 

…

“You okay baby?” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, aware that your mind was somewhere else during dinner.

“I- yes.” But you weren’t okay. Not one bit. Flashbacks of the man in your nightmares would haunt your thoughts. These nightmares would play in your head like old memories.

His hooded eyes watching as you fucked yourself open. He would whisper things like, ‘that’s it kitten, so fucking wet all for me’ and ‘good kitten, nice and tight for me’. 

“Imagine what your fiancé would do if he saw the way you squirm in my hands. He could never fuck you the way I could, kitten. Isn't that right? Only I fuck you exactly the way you like it. My little submissive kitten.” 

“Please.” Begging is all you could muster to do in your dreams. You felt pathetic. You never wanted someone so bad. The guilt only grew stronger when you realized you were fucking addicted to your own dreams. You started chasing these nightmares. 

What was wrong with you? 

“Baby?” Namjoon called your attention once again, smiling apologetically. “You feeling okay? Your face is quite flushed.”

Your hands fall onto your face feeling the slight burn against your palms. “Sorry. I’m okay, just a little hot in here is all.” 

“It’s the end of October baby. It’s been really cold out. I’m surprised you aren't begging me to warm you up by now.” He tries to carry the conversation into a lighter, more casual matter. 

A nervous smile breaks out onto your lips, as you brush a piece of hair out of your face. “Must just be experiencing hot flashes. It happens when I’m a bit more stressed than usual.”

“Anything you wanna talk about? You know you can talk to me.” He’s sweet and present for you as usual. You feel your heart drop thkining about how this is what you are missing out on by feeding into those stupid fucking nightmares. Something had to change. 

Wake up, Y/N. 

“Yeah, I know babe. It’s nothing to worry about. Just work stuff.” You make an excuse for yourself and it seems to work, for now. 

“Mm, okay. Don’t be afraid to come to me for anything. I don’t want you suffering alone.” Your fiancé places a hand on top of yours, squeezing it softly. 

“Thank you, Joonie.” This time you give him a real smile, but the guilt still stays hidden deep inside you watching as he reciprocates the smile back at you.

“There’s my beautiful bride-to-be. Stop worrying so much baby. Maybe you should take some time off from work. You know sleep usually makes you feel better. It always has. My sleepy girl.” 

And there it goes and hits you all at once again. 

Guilt. So much guilt. Sleep doesn’t even feel enough these days. The nightmares make you feel as if you never rest. You are clearly aware that dreams aren’t real life, but you even wake up sore from them. It’s scary how realistic it all feels. Maybe that’s why this makes it worse for you. Everything feels too real.

“Yeah… I’ll think about it.” But you won't because time off means resting and resting means more sleep and more time for these nightmares to keep haunting you. It’s like you will never win. 

“Eat your dinner baby, it's getting cold.” 

—-

The daydreams continue even at work. 

“Let me see that perfect ass, kitten. Turn around for me.” 

It’s like he completely owns you, hypnotized by his voice. You immediately present for him, face down and ass up sitting so nicely. 

“Fuck kitten, look at you. Tell me, does that lame fiancé of yours ever play with this ass?” 

You whimper a ‘no’ feeling a glob of spit drip into your unused, virgin hole. His thumb caressing the wet ring of muscle, watching you clench around nothing.

“I’ll change that soon, kitten. Just how you like it.” 

Namjoon wasn’t necessarily opposed to butt stuff, the one time you mentioned it he briefly dismissed it. Granted, he was busy at the time with some work, and you were too embarrassed to bring it up again. 

It seems you got lucky nonetheless. 

The man blows hot air into your wet hole, his lips felt soft against your ass. He would leave a kiss here and there before his tongue peaked out and circled around your rim. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You weren’t the most vocal sexual partner yet somehow, under his touch, you were the loudest. 

Moans fell dangerously loud from your lips as he would continue to fuck his tongue deep inside your ass. Stopping every few seconds to stare at your puffy rim, gaping around nothing. Fuck, what a sight for sore eyes you were. 

“Please.” 

“What baby?” His palm was heavy against your ass, watching it bounce back. 

“More.” You would beg. 

“Anything.” He would purr back. 

A thumb circled around the velvety muscle before pushing right in, fucking his thumb alongside spit that dripped from his mouth. 

Yes. Just how you like it.

“Y/N?” Your coworker brushes a hand against your shoulder. “You doing okay?” 

“Shit– yeah, my bad Yoona. I’ve just been feeling a bit sick lately, I think I’m coming down with a cold.” Which is a complete lie, but how do you tell your coworker you’re having wet daydreams about another man (who by the way only exists in your imagination) that isn’t your fiancé and that it is taking over every part of your life and that the guilt of it all sits heavy on your chest as days pass by and there is nothing you can do about it, but indulge in these dreams and practically live in them because you’ve become an addict. 

Yoona breathes out a light hum. “You don’t seem sick.” 

Fuck.

“Yeah… well it’s just starting, my throat feels dry and sore these days.”

“Maybe you should take a day off?” She suggests. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You agree just so she gets off your back. 

“You’ve been working a lot these days anyways. I’m sure Mr. Gyun wouldn’t mind if you called off. You’re one of his favorites anyways.” She laughs and you fake a smile. 

“Yeah, right. I’ll think about it. Let's just focus on work. We need this revised and sent off by Monday.” 

“Sure sure. But I’m being serious, take a day off or two, you look like you need it. You seem… tired?” She says, worrying by the sound of her tone. 

Because you know she will never let this go, you reassure her. “Yoona, I love you to death, but don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll take some time off if it gets worse. Thank you, really.”

“Alright, just looking after you Y/N. Your soon-to-be husband would kill me if I didn't.”

“I’ll tell him you’re doing a great job, now back to the transcripts…”

—-

You knew the night would eventually come. 

There was only so much you could ignore and forget. 

A sudden rush of heat wakes you from one of your nightmares, the jolt in your body scaring Namjoon awake beside you. You knew that he meant no trouble, but he gave you the face of ‘this again?’ and you could no longer push it aside. 

“Baby?” Namjoon’s voice is tired and filled with sleep, but he asks anyways while patting your back gently, as he always does when this happens like the sweet fiancé he is. “What happens in these dreams anyways?”

How do you tell your husband-to-be and boyfriend of seven years that you get completely ruined by another man in your sleep? 

Namjoon was far too sweet and innocent to get mad at you for this and you knew that. Yet the guilt never stopped you from feeling terribly about the situation. 

“You won’t be upset with me?” Your voice comes out as a whisper. 

Namjoon stands to turn on the nightlight by the bed before he lays back and wraps his strong arms around your waist. “Baby, look at me.”

With heavy eyes, you look back at your fiancé. 

His palm cradles your soft cheek, pushing a loose hair behind your ear. “I could never be upset with you, my love. It might help to talk your nightmares through. I’ll be right here with you baby.”

With shaking hands, you take a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know where they come from, but there’s this man in my dreams.” 

Namjoon raises a brow, doing his absolute best to understand you even while the clock reads in bold 3:44am. 

“This man, he’s dressed in all black. He— he has these dark eyes.” 

“Dark eyes?” 

“Yeah, he— his eyes are dark, sharp all around, it’s sinister.” 

“Okay. What happens?” He whispers, pulling you even closer into him, your hand falls into his chest for comfort.

“He— he…” You struggle finding the right words. 

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Baby, d-does he hurt you?”

No. Of course not. In fact, he does the opposite. The man pleases you until you can’t give him anymore and he leaves you with sore limbs and the burning stretch between your legs as a reminder of what he’s done to you and what he’s capable of. 

You quickly shake your head. “No but he- he touches me and does things to me.”

“Oh honey, why would I be mad at you about that? That’s completely unacceptable. Nobody should be touching you or doing things to you if you don't want it. I see now why this bothers—” 

“Joonie, I feel,” you start and swallow the awful feeling in your throat, “ I feel like… if I've been cheating on you.”

“Baby, I know you would never. They’re just nightmares after all. It’s not like you enjoy it baby.” This is what you mean by Namjoon’s too innocent and kind-hearted to see past the lines between your words. 

“But- I.”

“Wait… do you? Do you enjoy them?” Namjoon almost looks hurt to ask the question, but he’s quick to reassure you. “It’s okay baby, if you do.” 

“I do.” You whisper like it’s some dirty secret.

There’s a pregnant pause before Namjoon pulls you completely flush against his body, rubbing circles behind your back. “It’s okay baby, it's okay. They’re just nightmares. They mean nothing.” 

He kisses your hair for comfort and you let out a sob because they are much more than that to you and you know it. They are all you can think about. Shit, you think if you were given the chance, you would actually let that man have his way with you in real life. And it makes you feel disgusting because you know you enjoy this dynamic way too much.

At first, it was terrifying, you didn’t know the man and he, well he just became a weakness and you wanted him so bad, as much as you hated to admit it. Your imagination was a powerful tool. Why you and why with him? Why couldn’t your dreams be with Namjoon, your high school sweetheart?

“I’m so sorry, Joonie. For all these long nights. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The nightmares don’t stop, in fact they only feel longer and they get worse.” You cry into his chest. 

“I know honey, it’s not your fault. Just think of me whenever you feel this way, okay?” He pulls back, wiping your tears off with his sleeves. Your fiancé was so fucking sweet and that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. He was never angry at you or disappointed. Namjoon was always patient with you and a complete sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking stupid. 

“And I’m not mad at you, okay? I never will be. Those nightmares mean nothing to me. I love you Y/N.” Your fiancé whispers into your hair, kissing the side of your face. 

Namjoon has always been way better than you because had you been in his shoes, you couldn’t phantom hearing about him enjoying the presence of another woman. He knew only one part of this story. Namjoon doesn’t know that you spend evenings, the time you have the house alone while he’s off at work, fucking yourself to this strange man’s voice in your head. That you open yourself up just how you do in your nightmares and you swear you hear his voice telling you to keep going. You swear you hear him calling your name asking you about how Namjoon would feel about this. Like if his whole purpose is to make you feel worse about the situation. He’s ruining your life and you’re letting him. You think you’ve given up and it’s just started.

“I- I love you too.” You reply.

Namjoon smiles apologetically, hands gentle against your skin. “Let’s sleep?”

You nod and he pulls you against his hard chest, rubbing your back while he attempts to lull you back to sleep. It eventually comes, but not before you wake to those dark eyes again and the nightmare continues. This time you don't even fight it. He fucks you until you feel yourself collapse and you swear nothing has ever felt better. 

…

The next morning Namjoon gently shakes you awake. “Good morning my love, you slept through your alarm. I figured you could take a day off so I called your boss to let him know you couldn’t come in today. I hope you don't mind.” 

“Joonie?” Your voice is the cutest in the mornings (according to Namjoon), he smiles watching you struggle to wake up. 

“Yes, my baby. I’m just getting ready to leave for work, but I wanted to say goodbye before I leave.”

Well, it’s not like you have a choice so you accept your fate. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, honey. You slept quite well. You didn’t even wake up this time! Did it help? Talking through it?” Again, Namjoon could be so clueless. 

The only reason you slept this well is because you were fucked into oblivion in your dream. As unbelievable as it may sound, you even felt sore down there. But he doesn’t have to know that, so he’ll just go off to work thinking that cuddles and his sweet words drifting you back to sleep actually worked. 

“Yeah… yeah it did. Thank you again. Have a nice day at work.” You say, still warmly tucked in bed. 

“I will, baby. ” He drops a peck into your cheek, smelling the fresh scent of his aftershave. “Call me if anything. See you later, my love.”

And like that you are left alone once again. The only thing that remains is the fluffy feeling of his plump lips buzzing against your cheek, a faint reminder that you are loved and have been for years, while you think about another man, one that only exists in your deepest darkest of dreams. 

—-

Hoseok doesn’t remember how it happened. All he knew is he was standing in a place unknown, sensing there was another being in the room with him. 

It's not his first time around a mortal human. No, in fact he had so much experience with lustful humans with all kinds of desires and wishes, but it has been quite long since he was manifested this strongly into someone’s dreams. 

His favorite part was watching them act as if they didn’t ask for it. Call for him. They would lie and say that they could never fuck a dead being. A ghost at that. As if they didn’t manifest him themselves. 

It's not like it was Hoseok’s fault for dying young and handsome and that now he tends to people’s guiltiest pleasures. It's not like he has anything better to do in the after-life. In reality, he’s doing people a grand fucking favor. The best thing about fucking a dead ghost is there’s absolutely no consequences, at least that’s what he always tells his victims. Unless you get addicted to one, then that’s really a personal problem. They can’t stay on mortal land forever, but for the time being Hoseok has become attached to his time here. Especially with his new little mortal toy. 

When he first heard the calling, he almost missed it. He was fucking another mortal, a man in his mid-twenties to be exact. The man had called for him in his dreams and he attended to his duty with pleasure. 

This man had a thing for clowns and Hoseok wasn’t no fucking clown, but he did his best to please him. His outfit was in all black (of course, it was his favorite color) and fit him quite well though it was different from his usual style, even down to the clown hat and all.

The guy would scream under Hoseok as he would pound into him like some fuck-doll and would have him come undone within minutes. He was so fucking easy to please. They always are.

When Hoseok came to you the first night. That’s how you found him. He still had the same outfit on (he was ripped from the last dream) and his hat had nearly fallen off in the process, but he was pleased when he came across his next victim. You were beautiful. 

“Who— who are you?” You screeched, covering yourself up, cheeks flushed. You had been doing unspeakable things to yourself in the dream. “What are you doing in my room?!”

Hoseok smiles. God, they always are the same. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to and don’t mind me, keep doing what you were doing before I had rudely interrupted.”

The stranger goes to sit by the vanity in your room, making himself extremely comfortable as if it is a regular Tuesday night for him. 

You try to stand and it's like something washes over you. The strange force pushes you back down and you have no choice but to take it. 

The man chuckles, throwing his hat aside. “Don’t hurt yourself trying. Just let your instincts guide you. Tell me what it is you want, this will all go much smoother and much faster.” 

The stranger in black winks and you feel disgusted (though your pussy doesn’t seem to agree with you).

Still you manage to say, “I want you to get out of my fucking room. I’m about to get married, you know and he’ll fucking kill you.” 

“Ohhh.” He purrs, standing as he walks across the room. He stops a couple steps from your bed and leans down to match your height. “But you asked for me to come, baby. So guess what? Now I am your problem.”

He pinches your nose, wrinkling his own in the process and flashes a charming smile. 

You swat his hand off you almost immediately. “I— I didn’t ask for anything. I don’t even know you and I don’t want to know you.” 

“Mm, but soon we’ll know each other very well. Let’s not fight this.” The man’s voice is silky and you could practically see the sinful desire in his eyes while they take in your naked figure. 

You have no idea what he even means by that, but right now you could care less. This is just a nightmare and soon enough, he will disappear and you will get to go back to doing what you were doing before he ever existed. 

“Leave me alone please.” 

The guy puts his hands up clearly coming and going in peace, while retreating back a few steps. “Whatever you say princess. I’ll be back when you’re ready.” 

And just like that the man disappeared into a black distorted shadow. 

He shows up only three nights later. 

This time he catches you on your knees, riding a dildo on your bed. You don’t even hear him until he’s in front of you. Your hips stop mid roll. Whimpering as you feel the tug on your hair.

“Seems you’re ready.” He rasps, having a strong grip on your hair forcing you to look up at him. 

“I— who the fuck are you? Seriously? What do you want with me? I know I’m dreaming and I can wake up any secomd so what the fuck do you want with me.” This time you don’t even entertain him. It’s clear this man has his own vulgar intentions, you wanna skip the small talk. He doesn’t seem like the type to give up until he gets exactly what he wants. 

“The better question is what do you want with me. You manifested me after all, darling.” 

Your eye twitches at the pet name, but you ignore it, for now. “But— I don't know you. How is that fucking possible?”

Even though he knows you won't understand it completely, he still answers truthfully. “I’m dead baby. Anything is possible.” 

Great, so you’re just supposed to believe this man is some ghost haunting you in your dreams. Perfect!

This time you don’t ignore his stupid use of pet names. “S-Stop calling me that.” 

“Oh?” The man pouts, and to be honest that does something to you. If the situation was different maybe you would admit he looks fucking sexy, even if he’s a menace. 

His brows furrow, his jawline clenching as he speaks. “Is there another pet name you like? We’re already getting farther than last time, princess.” 

You don’t even attempt to hold back the scoff, your eyes roll back. “No. I don’t— I didn't ask for you and I don’t want you bothering me anymore. Just please leave me alone. Please.”

The man groans, looking down at you with hooded eyes, the fist in your hair grips harder reminding you that he still had you under his control. “God, but you sound perfect begging. Are you sure of that, kitten?”

The man's voice drops in a sultry tone, nearling purring while he speaks. And somehow, that manages to slip a whine from your throat, nearly drooling at the sight. 

Your eyes immediately widen. “I— I didn't mean that.”

“Oh, so that’s what you like.” The man smiles, petting your head affectionately. You were fucked. “Of course you didn't. You were so close weren't you, kitten?” 

You shake your head, you’re unable to look away, but at the same time you want to throw his hands off you. You felt completely powerless under his gaze and you were liking it a lot more than you would like to admit. 

“Don’t bother lying to me princess, I can smell it. You were so fucking close.” He whines the last part, biting his bottom lip, he seems to breathe in the scent. “So fucking close. I’m sorry. I always join at the worst times, you can continue.” 

He offers like a fucking weirdo, pervert and still you disgustingly want it. 

“I said, don't call me that!” Your hand flies to his and forces it off you. 

“Then talk to me.” He’s rough, but firm with his tone. 

“No. I don’t- can't and I won't. Go bother someone else.” 

“I can’t. You asked for me and you brought me here. Now you have to deal with this.” He doesn't attempt to put his hands back on you, but he does let his gaze wander seeing as you still haven’t moved from your dildo. 

“This is bullshit. It’s just in my head anyways. If I close my eyes it’s like you aren’t even here. Now let me fucking come in peace.” Your eyes closed in the middle of your rant and he seemed to listen. Hoseok backs off, watching you from your wall to be exact, but he lets you take care of yourself. That’s what he’s there for after all. 

After a few seconds of calming yourself down and regaining your arousal, you slowly lift yourself up feeling the dildo pull against your walls and you drop yourself back down. 

Hoseok was right, you weren’t too far away from coming, but he messed up your pace and now you have to work yourself back up. 

It doesn’t take too long before you set a quick pace, fucking yourself onto the silicone length. 

Truly it wasn’t that you and Namjoon’s sex life was bad, in fact he was the best fuck of your life (not that you had much experience given he was your high school sweetheart) but after years of being together, things had changed, a lot. 

You don’t even remember the last time you guys got creative in bed, besides a few vibrators from time-to-time. It was starting to get boring and you didn't want to admit this to him, but you wanted so much more. It's like your body was begging for it. And you didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying it, so instead you kept it to yourself and the sexual frustration built up overtime making it impossible not to think about constantly. 

You gasp when you finally open your eyes to find the man watching you with heavy lidded eyes from your wall, he’s not even touching himself, but you can see he’s hard in his pants. 

He licks his lips as he watches you jump down on the dildo ferociously. Your eyes make contact and that's when everything seems to explode.

Moans start slipping from your lips and you feel the knot in your stomach start to build quickly. The silicone molds around your walls perfectly, feeling the tip brush against your sweet spot repeatedly, fisting the sheets below you. 

Hoseok’s nose seems to flare and he can practically taste your arousal in the air. He watches as you bounce on that useless dildo, wishing it was his cock instead. Your mouth falls open, drool nearly spilling while you feel the knot coming undone.

It isn’t long before Hoseok finally decides to speak and it does wonders. “Come, you fucking slut.”

Fuck.

On call, you come and he’s forced to watch you moan and writhe against your sheets, feeling the dildo slowly push out of you. 

He pushes himself off the wall and comes towards you and you feel too exhausted to push him away. You are laying in the middle of your bed now, dildo still between your legs but it’s fallen out. 

You feel as he pushes the dildo back inside you overstimulating your used hole as he fucks it into you deeply. You really, really shouldn't let this happen. You are going to be a married woman soon for fuck’s sake, but it all feels so fucking good- risky yet new, so you can’t help but to feed into temptation. 

Sadly, your body denies it, for now at least. “N-No I can't. Not anymore.”

His action comes to a halt. “I know. Maybe next time, kitty.” 

And he disappears once again. 

Disappointment and guilt builds all too quickly. 

Disappointed that he didn’t stay and fuck you until you passed out. And guilt that you just came in the eyes of another man and on his call. 

—-

As expected, you spend your whole day off thinking about the stranger. The way he looks at you, the way he bites his bottom lip while taking you in. The way he grips your hair and clenches his sharp, symmetrical jawline when he has you falling apart in his hands. You could feel his touch, it’s impossible you know, but it all feels too real and it all happens so fast. 

He had a name now. He told you in one of your dreams while he was taking you from behind. 

“Say my name kitten. Who’s fucking you this good? Fuck, what a sight from behind. You’re just perfect all around, aren’t you?” Hoseok’s hands grip onto your ass cheeks, fucking into your pussy brutally. He hasn’t stopped pounding into you and it’s already been ten minutes. Maybe more? Maybe less? You stopped counting. Good dick leaves you feeling stupid. 

“H-Hoseok.” You whimper into your pillow, you think you have officially lost your fucking mind. 

“What?” You swear you can hear the smirk on his lips. 

“Hoseok.” You’re louder this time, but your voice is muffled, face falling into your pillow. 

“Louder slut!” There’s a sting on your ass and he has a fistful of your hair, lifting your face from up the pillow while he continues to ram into you from behind. You realize you are so fucking close and he knows it too, you try to meet his strong thrusts, but it’s no use because it knocks the air from under you. He manages to hold you up with a strong grip. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so tight around me, kitty. You gonna come on my dick now like a good slut? Huh?” 

“Yes!” This time your voice is loud and you scream without holding back. “Hoseok! Hoseok! Oh, nghh… fuck, Hoseok!” 

His name falls from your lips over and over while you come on his cock, just like he asked of you. That satisfies him enough and he squirts his own orgasm all over your plump ass, watching you come down from your own afterglow.

You had come to the fucked conclusion that the only way to possibly fucking fix something like this (as sick as it may sound) is to fuck it away. You had to tell Namjoon, maybe experiment a bit more just so you can finally get this man out of your head. Regain your peace of mind. Namjoon would do anything you’d ask of him, you could assure that. You just had to find a way to tell him so he wouldn’t feel it was his fault or as if he was lacking. Or you could just not tell him. 

Either way you think fucking this away would help for the time being at least.

Sex is a very special and intimate practice and that’s genuinely how it always felt with Namjoon. He always took his time with you and fucked you slow and deep. 

Before, you will admit that it was nice and that’s why he attracted you so much but now, you don’t want it to be nice or slow. You want someone to play rough, break your limits, and touch you in places you haven’t been touched before. You want to be tossed around, fucked until you can’t speak any coherent sentences. Was that just too much to ask for? 

(Hoseok sure didn't think so.)

Right as you had finished cooking dinner, Namjoon made his way through the front door, setting his work bag down by the coat rack.  

“You’re cooking?” Namjoon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Smells good.” 

“Yeah, I figured you deserved a nice meal to come home to. I didn’t have much else to do.” You swiftly kiss him back.

Namjoon pulls you in closer, arms holding you tightly. He still smells as fresh as he did when he first left. “I told you to rest, my love. You didn’t have to do anything.” 

“I know, I know. I really wanted to though. Let’s just eat, we'll talk after.” He nods and kisses your cheek once more. 

“Let's eat then.”

…

Namjoon decides a movie night is needed on a night like tonight. 

You were more clingy than usual (and of course, he loves it). So he puts on a random movie and allows you to cuddle him up to the fullest of your extent. 

“You’re so cuddly today, my love.” Namjoon whispers into your hair, mid-movie. 

“I just missed you is all.” And you really did, it's been long since you and Namjoon had an intimate night (maybe since these dreams started), you think it's finally time. 

He smiles rubbing his hand down your arm. “I missed you too honey.” 

You lift your head from his chest and lean in slowly, he immediately picks up on the drift and leans down to meet your lips. 

His lips are soft against yours, kissing you with gentle movements. His palm comes to rest on your cheek while you escalate the kiss. 

Your tongue comes up slowly and he lets you in quite easily. You take a hand and rake it down his chest, pulling yourself on his lap carefully. 

You start to slowly whine your hips, making it all too obvious about what you need and want. Namjoon follows along without complaints. 

“Do you wanna?” Namjoon asks, a bit breathless, bringing his forehead against yours. 

“Yes.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

Namjoon smiles and steals one last kiss before he attempts to stand, thinking it would be best to move this to the bed, but you hold him down with a shove to his abdomen. 

“No. I want it, right here.” You say, finding yourself a little breathless yourself, you needed this. 

His eyes seem to widen for the moment, but he seems to agree and pulls you back in for a kiss, this time he lets his tongue push into your mouth further exploring. He tastes the sweet tang of red wine on your tongue and he groans into the kiss. 

You pull back only for a second as you get rid of your shirt and he starts to unbutton his own. Once the shirts are off, you tug your bra off freeing your breast and bring your lips back together with great force. 

Though he doesn’t complain, Namjoon is in shock. He hasn’t seen you this needy and desperate in years, he thinks? Or at least he doesn’t remember it like that. He lets you rut against his already hard member and kisses you with equal passion.

The next time he pulls away, he tugs on your leggings and he helps you out of them. Typically your panties come down with it, but you decide you’ll just push them aside. You return the offer by pushing his jeans down, including his briefs, his dick slaps against his stomach weighing heavy. 

Your mouth instantly waters, but right now you want him inside the rest will just have to come another time. 

Namjoon looks at you with so much love and admiration and for a minute, the guilt comes crashing down. You want him, you know you do so why is the guilt still there? Is it because even as you have your lover right where you want him all you can think about is how the stranger (Hoseok) from your dreams would have had you flipped onto the couch and had his way with you hours ago. Maybe he would have fucked you against the kitchen counter, defile the damn marble. Maybe he would have taken you right against your front door, like the slut you wanted to be for him. All you know for sure is he wouldn’t have let this much time pass. 

You shake your stupid thoughts away and look back up at your fiancé. This is where you want to be. Where you fucking belong. Without letting your imagination run wild, you rub yourself against Namjoon’s hard length, spreading your arousal all over him. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby.” He bites a moan back, feeling your warm juices, slicken his cock. 

You moan against his mouth when you feel the tip latch on to your hole, slowly sinking down on him. You feel his cock stretch your warm walls and he feels he could come already. It's just been so long (can anyone really blame him). 

You bring your hips up a bit before crashing back down feeling the burn on your tight heat. 

“So warm and tight baby.” His hands land on your hips, toying with the band of your panties. “Come here.”

Namjoon brings you flush against his chest slowing your movement, his lips crash into yours. The kiss feels much different from before. He doesn’t hold back, as soon as your tongue clashes with his, he sucks and bites it playfully. You groan into his mouth, accidentally squeezing harder against his length. 

“Fuck baby, just like that.” His dick twitches deeply against your velvety walls, you can tell he’s holding back. “I think I’ll come soon if you continue like this.”

Like hell, you’ll let him come now, you’ve barely had your fill. Without no desire to, you slowly slide off his dick, dropping knees first onto the cold floor below you. 

“Baby–” Namjoon starts, but you push his hands away as he tries to pull you back up.

“Let me do this, you’ll last longer.” He hesitates, but eventually surrenders, laying his hands aside. “Don’t be scared to use your hands, use my mouth, Joonie.”

Fuck. How could his own perfect, sweet wife-to-be sound this seductive? He hasn’t heard you talk this way since college. And it’s been years since that. He thought the years of young, hot sex were over but he’s been wrong all along. His fiancée was the sexiest woman in the world, that he was sure of. 

Namjoon’s hands find your hair and push you towards his glistening length. It’s already drying, shame, you thought, let’s keep it warm and wet. 

Wrapping hands around it, you take his cock into your mouth, sliding your tongue across the slit, hearing a raspy moan come from Namjoon’s throat. “That’s it baby, God your mouth feels incredible.”

The tip of his cock weighs heavy against your tongue. He’s breathing heavy, while he watches you take him in further. You warm his cock with your mouth just as nicely as when you were on top of him. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him as far as you could go, hearing his desperate grunts. Namjoon takes a grip of your hair (he’s still very gentle with it and you try not to be disappointed) and pushes you just a bit further, feeling your throat stretch around him. “F-Fuck baby. I really won’t last.” 

You tap his thigh and he immediately lets go when he sees your eyes water. You pull off with a pop to catch your breath. “I know.”

Your voice is raspy and it’s the sexiest thing Namjoon has ever heard. And you know exactly how to make this whole situation better. Sometimes, a little whiny purr in your voice is all that’s needed to get exactly what you need. “I just want you to come down my throat. Please, fuck my throat daddy.”

Now if Namjoon wasn’t sure he could bust before, he could definitely nut in your fist right in that instant. Yes, he has a daddy kink, sue him. 

“Come here.” Namjoon demands, doesn’t hesitate this time to tug you up a little harder and place you in his lap, before he shoves your back against the couch.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, but the answer is pretty obvious when you see him line his cock up to your hole.

“Fucking you. I’m gonna come inside you. Don’t worry baby, I won’t stop fucking you until you are statisfied.” It’s like music to your ears, his hard member slaps against your clit before he slowly eases back inside you. 

Both moaning at the feeling, he lets you adjust for a few seconds, but you waste no time to wrap your legs around his hips and pull him close. 

“Please daddy, just fuck me.” You whine into his ear. 

This time Namjoon pulls back and right before he slides out, he slams back in, balls smacking into your ass. He fucks you just like that for a while. He’s fast but skilled, finding your sweet spot quite easily. It reminds you both of older times, when things were much easier, when you were both young and easily influenced.

You moan loudly into his neck, toes curling as he fucks his dick deep inside you. “Right there daddy, please don’t stop.”

Sweat starts forming on his forehead and his hair that had once been held back by gel begins sticking to skin. It isn’t a surprise to feel him thrust harder and faster, his tongue poking at his cheek as he concentrates. “Fuck baby, I really missed fucking you just like this. You feel so tight around me, look so fucking sexy, just like this baby.” 

You eat up his praise, biting your bottom lip as you feel the tight grip he has on your hips, drilling into you like he used to. Fuck, maybe you were right. This was exactly what you needed. There’s no Hoseok in your head right now. No unwanted thoughts in your mind. It’s just you and Namjoon. How it always should have been. 

A whimper falls between your lips and you feel Namjoon leaving hickey’s around your tits, covering them beautifully with his own little marks. 

Your legs start to shake around him, and warmth starts spreading through you quickly. “Daddy— I- I think I’m gonna fucking come.” 

Namjoon grunts, mouth around your nipple while he pulls off to speak. “Yeah baby? You wanna come?”

Yes. 

No.

Not really.

Preferably you would like him to control your fucking orgasm, flip you around, start pounding into you until you can’t hold yourself together but this will have to do. 

“Y-Yeah. I wanna come.” 

“Come sweetheart.” It’s not long before you moan sweetly through an orgasm, Namjoon fucks you through it as promised and you feel like you are levitating, he maintains sinful eye contact. His thrust starts to become sloppy and you feel the instant he lets go. 

“Inside daddy, inside.” With one final strong stroke, Namjoon comes deep inside you, his breathy moans feel hot against your ear. 

There’s a few minutes of heavy breathing, settling into the couch below you. Namjoon’s breaths follow close behind yours, arm tucked below your breasts, he lays behind you. 

“You were so wonderful my love, I’m sorry we don’t do that enough.” Namjoon breaks the silence, kissing the side of your head.

For the twentieth time that week, guilt falls heavy onto your chest. You didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve this. 

“No, don’t apologize Joonie. It’s my fault, really. I’ve just been… out of it. But I feel much better. All thanks to you. Thank you, thank you for everything you do for me and our home.” You start getting emotional, but you don't let your tone waver. You didn’t want him to know. 

“You know I’d do it all for you, my love” He whispers into your hair, kissing along the soft skin behind your neck. “I can’t wait to marry you baby.” 

There it is again, guilt. 

“I know, I know. Me either.”

“I love you.” He doesn't hesitate to remind you sweetly. 

It hurts to say it with all that is going through your mind, but you force a reply anyway. “I love you too.” 

…

Sleep comes over you quickly that night. 

Finally, you had fucked your sweet and loving fiancé and for once, your dreams don’t start off with you fucking yourself into an orgasm. 

In fact, you don’t dream, at least you don't recall. 

Hoseok immediately knows something is different when he arrives. He doesn’t smell arousal in the air, no this time he can tell you’ve been fucked. He can smell the come leftover deep inside your walls. He’s impressed to say the least. 

He watches your chest rise and fall, a small pout framing on your lips. You sleep beautifully, he thinks you will look even better after he’s done with you for today.

With careful steps, he makes his way to the end of your bed, you jerk your arm so suddenly in your sleep and he holds back a laugh. He’s quiet when he sits besides your sleeping head, gentle fingers run through your hair. 

“Mm.” You hum sweetly in your sleep, molding against his touch, thinking it was your husband-to-be playing with your hair like he normally does. 

Before you hear him say, “someone had a good night. Isn’t that right kitten?”

Your eyes widen, nearly jumping out of bed, but Hoseok’s hands stop you from moving. “It’s just me baby.”

“H-How?” Your voice is raspy with sleep. “You were supposed to be gone.”

Hoseok smiles wide, hand still caressing the back of your head. “Did you really think that would happen, kitten?”

“Yes.” 

“You let him fuck you.” He says like he knows for sure it's a fact. He doesn’t look too happy about it and your deafening silence answers his unspoken question. He pats your cheek. “Naughty kitty.” 

You gulp, his pretty hand wrapping around your throat as he asks the next question. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” It’s not a lie and he knows it too. 

“Yeah? He fuck you better than me?” You gulp again.

“Yes.” No.

“Why do you lie to me, kitten?” His eyes flash red (they don’t), but the look he gives you is enough to warn you. Things are about to get serious so fast. “I know everything.”

You know that saying people say about fucking around and finding out. You were about to fuck around and find out real fucking fast that Hoseok doesn’t play with his toy. 

“Then what the fuck are you going to do about it, huh?” The only warning you get is Hoseok’s smile and then he’s fisting your hair tightly. Jawline clenched, watching as his eyes hood and darken. 

“Fuck yourself open, you slut.” He drops the grip on your hair and stands, serious look on his face, he’s not fucking around at all tonight. His hands are quick, tugging his belt off. “Make it quick.”

When he sees you still haven’t moved, a warning comes to you by a strong fistful of hair, shoving you so closely against his face. His breath hits yours, but your lips don’t touch, even though they are so fucking close. You’re tempted to steal a kiss from those soft looking lips, but you’ve acted up enough. “I said, fuck yourself open.”

He drops his grip, letting your head fall into the mattress. Hoseok’s voice is strong and demanding so you stop fucking around and pull the sheets off your body. His eyes fall on your breasts, they are covered in hickey’s freshly made by Namjoon and he tries not to let that affect him. But damn him, he wishes it was him instead. He knows you would never sleep unsatisfied. He would always make sure you slept fucked and sated. Even if that meant, falling asleep on his cock. 

There’s a slight burn when your finger finds its way to your pussy. Namjoon did a number on you, but it makes it easier to fuck yourself open. His come still settling deep inside you.

Hoseok has his shirt off now and he tugs his briefs and pants down all at once, his cock springs out, looking delicious as ever. You hear a dark chuckle behind you. “Uh-uh, wrong hole kitty, I’m fucking that ass tonight.” 

You whimper when his hand comes to stop your movements. 

“I’m not fucking that dirty hole. Turn around. I wanna see you from behind.” He’s not putting it up for question. You push yourself up on your knees and fall back against the bed, lifting your ass towards his direction. 

He curses behind you and smacks your ass. Leaving a red hand mark behind, it almost is as pretty as your face. “Fuck kitten, you really are pretty all around. Fuck that hole open for me.” 

You feel spit hit your hole and your index finger rubs his saliva around your rim. Your chest is heavy, this time for different reasons, you are completely breathless. 

You can’t see Hoseok, but you hear as he opens the drawer beside your bed, it’s where you kept all your toys and lube. You are a finger-deep inside your ass when you hear the lube cap open, Hoseok is kind enough to warm the lube a bit between his fingers before he rubs against your rim and finger. He lets a bit of the lube dribble down your ass cheeks. Hoseok likes it a bit messy and wet. He clicks it close and tosses it besides you. 

“My perfect submissive slut.” He whispers, hands settling on your ass as you finger yourself open with two fingers now, the burn hurts but it feels so damn good. Namjoon has never fucked your ass, but it has always been one of your sexual desires. Nothing could ever compare to an orgasm through anal and Hoseok has taught you a lot about that. 

Another glob of spit hits your rim and you feel him squeeze a finger in. The burn of three fingers tear through you, moaning into the sheets.  “Mm, fuck.” 

He grins watching you hold back moans, biting your lips hard. 

“Maybe I should punish you tonight.” He suggests, still fucking his finger in your ass alongside your own. “If you come like this I’ll let you suck my dick if I’m still feeling nice.”

You complain, turning around to face him, back still arched. “No… please, please Hoseok. F-Fuck me. Fuck my ass.” 

“No.” He’s cold like usual and you know he won’t budge so it's no use. 

“But I-I’ve been waiting patiently. I thought all day about you.” It almost sounds like a purr and Hoseok loves it, spanking the fat in your hips this time with an unoccupied hand. His finger is still deep inside your ass and doesn’t let down. 

“Yeah? Tell me about that.” He starts to jerk himself off in the process, the leftover lube in his fingers makes the slide easier, his tongue wets his lips while he maintains eye contact. 

Your cheeks are burning but you continue, “I thought about your huge cock splitting me open. Forcing me to take you e-even when I can’t anymore. I thought about you spitting into my messy hole like you always do. I thought about you fucking me open against the door. Even the kitchen counter. All day, I’ve missed you all day.”

This seems to satisfy him enough so he plays nice. “Turn over. On your back. Show me those tits.”

He pulls his finger out slowly and you miss it immediately but you listen, your own fingers slide out as you turn around for him. His knees hit the bed pulling your thighs apart as he falls between them, his arm falling beside your head. He’s still fisting his hard length, watching your tits rise and fall as you breathe. 

His tongue comes out and licks around your breasts purposely avoiding your nipple. “You let him mark you.” 

“He’s my husband-to-be.” You answer, holding back a moan when he sucks on your skin, gentle enough not to make any marks. “Of course, I did.” 

“Mm.” He hums into your skin, it vibrates and your pussy responds to this, leaking arousal into the sheets. “What else did you let him do, kitten?” 

“He fucked me.” You whisper, practically vibrating below him. 

“Oh I know that. I smell it.” He looks like he wants to laugh, but instead continues sucking around your other breast, giving both tits the attention they deserve. 

“Squeeze them together.” He orders and you listen quickly. His tongue slides and sucks between them, still avoiding your nipples and it drives you insane. You want to feel him. 

“Please.” Your voice is weak.

“Please what?” He asks, looking up dumbfounded, but he knows exactly what you want. He’s making you work for it. “Tell me kitten. What do you want?” 

“Y-Your mouth.” You struggle. 

“Where?” He breathes out, right on top of your nipple, tongue nearly sliding against it. 

“R-Right there.” Your eyes never move. 

You watch as he sticks his long, pink tongue out and very slowly licks your already hardened nipple. 

“Here?” He asks between his own breaths and you moan softly, sounding sweet against his ears.

“Yes.” You whisper-moan. 

He drops his cock, letting it hit your cunt while he starts to suck on your nipples like they deserve. There’s nothing sweet and gentle about this. It’s like he wants to replace Namjoon’s love bites and leave you with his own. 

He switches off onto the previous breast and his hand comes to play with your other breast while he attends to the new one. He licks and sucks harshly, bruising your tender skin. You writhe against him, pussy brushing along his cock, but his hand comes to halt your actions quickly with a strong grip on your hip. 

“Be good, slut.” Is all he says before he continues marking your breasts and you can’t do a single thing, but moan and whine underneath him, feeling empty. The memory of Namjoon is long forgotten. 

Once Hoseok is satisfied with his work. He grins and pulls away. He grabs the bottle of lube beside you and lathers his cock in it. “Should I fuck you now?”

You are quick to nod and you feel bubbly. 

Finally. 

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?” He tempts and teases, his lubed fingers touch your chin and you open with ease, taking all three fingers he offers you inside your mouth. You suck hard and watch him bite his lip.  

You moan around his fingers, his other hand gripping his slicken cock and you feel it catch around your rim. 

“Beg for it, slut.” He slides his fingers out, saliva drips down your chin, you probably look a mess but you don't even care anymore. The sinful desire and lust is ten times worse than any other feeling. 

“Please, Hoseok. Please.” You beg. “I’d do anything. Anything.” 

He sees red for two seconds and then he says. “Then keep your legs open for me. Try to stay awake. Don’t disappoint me this time, kitten.” 

There’s no warning for when he plunges his hard length inside your slicked rim. You know he won’t be going anywhere near your pussy, keeping his promise. You didn’t deserve it. You let someone else use your hole and now he’s punishing you. 

“Oh. My. God.” You moan, it fucking burns, but soon his thrusts turn into pleasure and his cock brushes your sweet spot. It’s like he’s known you all your life, knowing the exact way to tear you apart, piece by piece. 

“Ghost actually, not God, but I’ve met him. He’s not the sweet and forgiving man everyone mentions he is.” Hoseok says this all while buried deep between your ass cheeks and you would actually laugh about this if the situation was different, but instead you moan and clench around him feeling his balls slap faster against your ass. “That’s it kitten, lose your fucking mind.”

And that is exactly what you do.

Hoseok continues ramming his hips into yours for a few minutes, you aren’t speaking clearly anymore so he doesn’t understand a word you tell him, all he knows is that you must be feeling fucking ecstasy by the way you roll your eyes and yell moans. 

His hands grip your hips and he comes to a stop. “Face down. Ass up. I wanna see that ass while I pound it from behind.”

You don’t reply to him, but you seem to understand. With weak movements, you move and nearly fall face first into the bed, weak limbs. You don’t even have the strength to hold yourself together anymore. Hoseok is kind enough to help though, he places a pillow below your hips, just high enough so he can slide right back inside your tight ass. 

He hears your muffled moans against your bedsheets, watching you weakly grip them. 

“Such a nice ass. It’s a shame really.” Your ass bounces while he mounts you from behind, it’s fast but precise, hitting your walls just right at every harsh thrust. 

“W-What is?” He barely hears you reply. 

“That this ass isn’t played with enough and soon I’ll just be a fidget of your imagination. You’ll forget I ever existed and you’ll never, ever receive the sexual satifisation you deserve. But maybe, one day, when it’s your turn to go, you’ll meet me in the after-life and I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed this sweet ass.” The ghost’s voice almost sounds sad and you freeze. You don’t want this to end. No.

“T-Then don’t stop fucking me. Keep me here forever.” You whisper frantically, breath hot and heavy. 

“Oh trust me baby, I would if I could. For now, I won’t stop. Stay awake, kitten.” You don’t even notice you are falling unconscious, the stretch and burn of his cock is exhausting and your ass takes him greedily, but his words wake you. 

He grips the side of your hips, pressing his thumbs into your back as he sets a faster pace. Slamming and ramming his dick deep within you. The moans and gasps that slip from your mouth sound so pretty, God he really wishes it would never fucking end, but he feels you slipping between his hands already. 

What the fuck can he do? 

Hoseok is close himself, how could he not be? He’s been practically edging himself for hours and now that he has such a juicy ass at hand, with the most perfect woman he has ever seen, he could practically come inside your velvet walls right now. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse and moan below him, you tremple and shake, the knot inside your stomach is barely holding up. “‘M so close.”

He nods, forgets you can’t see him. He harshly tugs you around, still quite limp and weak between his arms. “Wanna see that face when you come on my cock.”

He plunges back inside, lips close to yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. And then you realize, he hasn’t kissed you. This entire time. He’s fucked you religiuosly for weeks on end and you don’t even know what those heart-shaped lips taste like against yours. Would they be as sweet as they look? Would he kiss you gently or would he be harsh and rough like the way he fucks? You wonder about it all at once and it makes you sad for a moment. You want a kiss. Why wouldn’t he kiss you? 

“Kiss me.” You breathe out, he’s grunting above your mouth still fucking you nice and deep. You are beyond positive you won’t be able to move your ass tomorrow but it’s worth it, it’s always worth it. 

He looks up and then looks back down, concentrating on his thrust, you moan but hold your ground. 

“Please. Kiss me.” You whisper, gasping when you feel the knot start to come undone. He knows you’re about to let go and this only drives him to bottom out faster and quicker. Skin smacking quickly against skin. Your asshole has been shaped and molded just for him. You’re loving every second of it, but he still hasn’t kissed you. 

Why?

Your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, he breathes heavy and hot against your ear now. It’s messy, sweaty and his touch is usually rough, but it feels awfully gentle now. He’s still rough inside your soft walls, but something’s changed. 

“Hoseok.” You breathe, you’re so sad. 

He hums against your neck, avoiding your eyes. 

“Kiss me.” You plead again, he kissed your neck so softly, balls smacking harder and faster against your ass. “No, my lips.”

“Goodnight, kitten.” He whispers sounding sad into your ear before he lifts his face from your neck and those heart-shaped lips touch your softly, it’s almost sweet. You come undone as soon as you feel the touch of his magical lips and you swear you feel him come deep inside you.

It all disappears though. 

“Honey?” This time it's Namjoon, hand already around your waist. “You okay? Was it another nightmare?”

A tear falls down your face and Namjoon awes, bringing you into his warm embrace. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.” 

Why are you crying? 

And where is Hoseok?

“I am too.” You simply say, crying harshly into his shoulder.

Hoseok watches the scene unfold from afar. He wishes you could feel the ache you’ve left him behind too and there isn’t a damn thing he could do but wait. 

“See you in the after-life kitten. There I’ll spoil you with all the kisses you deserve.”

You don’t hear him, but he knows he means well. Hoseok walks away permanently this time, he’s lost the feeling of his heart long ago, but he feels heavy-hearted and continues on his way to his next victim.  

Until next time.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 so it goes

paring: draco malfoy x reader

warnings: smut, no house mentioned but slytherin ig, possessive draco, ??? to lovers, idk😭

a/n: heyyy 😖😖 excuse my 4 month hiatus.. oops, leave requests in my request box or comment on who I should write about bc idk who to write about 😭 can be any fandom !! also, sorry if this is badddd😭😭

4.3k words :p

Draco Malfoy had a way of slipping into your thoughts like a shadow. Even when he wasn’t around, his presence lingered, impossible to shake. But tonight, he was there, standing across the room, eyes locked on you with that familiar intensity that made your stomach knot.

He was the center of attention, as always. It was as if everyone else was drawn to him, but at the same time, you knew none of them could see him the way you did. There was something darker beneath his polished surface, something only you were close enough to touch.

The firelight flickered in the Slytherin common room, casting long shadows along the stone walls. Draco stood there, all sharp angles and cold beauty, his pale features illuminated by the dim light. He met your gaze, a slow smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your heart quickened, a dangerous thrum in your chest. You tried to look away, but it was impossible. No one held your attention like Draco did—like he always would. He started to move, cutting through the small crowd with that same smooth grace, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the room closing in as he approached, the chatter around you fading into nothing but a dull hum.

By the time he reached you, it was like the rest of the world had disappeared.

"You seem deep in thought," he said, his voice low and smooth, almost mocking. "Or maybe you’re just staring." He paused, a slight tilt of his head as he looked at you with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Again."

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how easily he could unravel you. "Maybe I’m just trying to figure you out," you countered, though your voice lacked the sharp edge you wanted.

He was close now—too close. His hand brushed your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch was always light, deliberate, but it left a trail of heat in its wake. "Figure me out?" He chuckled softly, the sound deep and amused. "I doubt you’ll ever manage that."

There was a weight to his words, something that hung in the air between you, making it hard to breathe. Draco Malfoy wasn’t someone you could easily understand, and you knew that. But it didn’t stop you from wanting to.

His gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. "You’re quiet tonight," he mused, his voice softer now, almost coaxing.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. He had that effect on you, rendering you silent with just a look, a touch. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t pull away from even if you wanted to.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your skin. "What’s wrong?" His voice was smooth, almost teasing, but there was an underlying darkness to it that made your pulse quicken.

Your back hit the wall behind you, the cool stone sending a shock through your body as you realized how close he had gotten. Draco’s body was only inches from yours now, his hand resting beside your head, trapping you in. He was always so deliberate with his movements, always in control, and it made you feel like you were caught in a web you had no chance of escaping.

"You like this, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper as his fingers trailed down your arm. "The way I make you feel."

Your breath hitched, and you hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could make everything else vanish, leaving only him. It was like being in a cage, but the bars were made of gold—beautiful and alluring, but impossible to break.

He smiled again, that dangerous, knowing smirk. "I can see it, you know," he continued, his voice dropping even lower. "The way you’re always on edge when I’m around. The way you miss me when I’m gone."

Your heart raced at his words, and you fought to keep your composure. His absence did make you feel like you were tripping, falling into a void where nothing made sense without him. But you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of hearing you admit it.

"I think you like the power," you finally said, your voice shaky but firm.

Draco’s smirk widened, and he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Maybe I do."

The room felt impossibly small now, the walls pressing in on you as his presence overwhelmed your senses. His hand came to rest on your waist, the heat of his touch burning through your clothes. "But you like it too, don’t you?"

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. The look in your eyes, the quickening of your breath—it was all the answer he needed. He had you, and he knew it.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

There was something about being alone with Draco that made everything else disappear. You always noticed the cracks in his perfect mask when the world wasn't watching—when the cold, controlled demeanor faded, leaving only the raw truth between you.

His hands, still gripping your waist from where he had cornered you against the wall, softened slightly. There was always that moment when his arrogance gave way to something deeper, a quiet intensity you knew he didn’t show to anyone else.

"You’re so different when it’s just us," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him. There was something almost fragile in the air between you, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

He raised an eyebrow, though the edge of his smirk was gone, replaced with something darker, more real. "Maybe I’m just tired of pretending."

It was a rare admission, but you had come to recognize those moments in him. The moments when he let down his guard, just enough to show you that he wasn’t as untouchable as everyone thought. Alone, he was simple, stripped of the sharpness and the sneers. Just Draco.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," you murmured, fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve, as if grounding yourself in his presence.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, though it lacked its usual mocking tone. "You make it sound so easy," he muttered, his hand moving up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your jawline. "But nothing’s ever easy."

His touch was gentle, in stark contrast to the fire burning between you. It was always like this with Draco—a constant push and pull, the desire to break down his walls but knowing the risk that came with it. He looked at you like he wanted to believe it could be that simple, but there was always something holding him back. Something that neither of you could escape.

"You’re overthinking again," you said softly, leaning into his touch, your fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt.

He scoffed, though there was no malice in it. "Old habits."

You pulled him closer, your lips ghosting over his in a silent plea for him to let go, just for a moment. "When it’s just us, it doesn’t have to be complicated."

Draco hesitated for a split second, his gaze searching yours as if he was trying to find some hidden meaning in your words. But then he kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to make sense of the chaos that always seemed to follow him. And just like that, everything fell into place. It always did when you were with him.

The world outside could wait. For now, it was just the two of you, the rest of the night forgotten as his lips claimed yours. His hands, once tentative, were firm now, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. Your heart raced, the familiar heat building between you as his body pressed against yours. All the pieces fell into place.

You lost yourself in him, the way you always did. His touch was fire, scorching your skin, and you craved more, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. It was like he could sense your thoughts, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes dark and filled with the kind of hunger that made your stomach flip.

"Don’t tell me you want to stop," he whispered, his voice rough, teasing.

You smirked, your breath heavy as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Not a chance."

His thumb brushed against your lower lip, smudging the faint trace of lipstick that had transferred during the kiss. He gave you that familiar, cocky smile, the one that always set your heart racing.

"You should see the mess you’ve made," he murmured, his voice low and dark, his gaze tracing the path of the lipstick stain.

You didn’t need to see it. You could feel the heat on your face, the rush of blood beneath your skin from how close he was, from how thoroughly he consumed you. It didn’t matter how messy it got. That was the way it always was with Draco—messy, chaotic, and absolutely irresistible.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Your mind drifted back to that first night you met him. It had been simple, unexpected. No grand moment of destiny, no whirlwind romance. Just a random restaurant in hogsmeade, dimly lit, filled with people who didn’t matter. You had been laughing with friends, lost in conversation, when you felt his gaze on you.

At first, you hadn’t even realized it was him. But once you did, the whole room seemed to shift. He was standing by the bar, glass in hand, watching you with that same dark intensity he always had. His stare had felt like a challenge, one you couldn’t ignore.

You remembered the way he approached you that night, slow and deliberate, as if he already knew exactly how things were going to unfold.

"Didn’t expect to find you here," he had said, his voice smooth, casual, like he wasn’t completely aware of the tension that sparked the moment he stepped closer.

"Didn’t expect to be found," you had shot back, trying to maintain your composure, even though your heart had raced beneath the surface.

"Too bad for you then," he’d murmured, leaning in just enough to let you feel the heat of his body without touching. "I’m hard to miss."

And from that moment on, you had been hooked. It had been simple, effortless. The way he made you feel like the only person in the room, like you were the only one who could see him for who he really was.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Back in the present, Draco’s gaze was fixed on yours, his hands resting possessively on your waist. You could feel his heartbeat, steady but fast, as if he was afraid you might slip away.

"Do you ever think about that night?" you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

His smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, something real. "Every damn day."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you hated how much power he had over you. How easily he could make everything else fade away, leaving just this—just you and him, caught in a moment that felt endless.

"You make me jealous, you know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Draco raised an eyebrow, his fingers tightening on your waist. "Good."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "That’s not the reaction I was expecting."

His lips curled into a dangerous smile. "I like that you care." His voice dropped, his breath ghosting over your skin as he leaned in close. "I want you to care. I want you to feel it."

And you did. You felt everything—the desire, the danger, the thrill of being his, even if just for this moment. Because no matter how complicated things got, no matter how many times you swore you’d pull away, you knew you were his. And you knew he was yours.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The room was thick with tension, the only sound the rustle of fabric and the soft hitch in your breath as Draco moved closer. His eyes, dark with intent, never left yours, watching your every movement like a hawk. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the space between you rapidly shrinking.

Dressed head to toe in black, he looked dangerous—his usual composed arrogance crumbling away, replaced with raw, unrestrained desire. He stepped forward, crowding you against the wall, trapping you there without a word. You didn’t need words now. You knew exactly where this was heading. You had been playing this game with him for too long not to know.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he rasped, his voice low, almost a growl. His hands found your hips, fingers gripping with just enough pressure to let you know you were at his mercy. But there was nothing gentle about the way he pressed his body flush against yours.

You smirked, though your heart was racing. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

His lips twitched in response, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. They were already burning with a need so palpable it made your skin prickle with anticipation. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing your dress higher, exposing more of your skin to the cool air.

“I don’t think you do,” he murmured, his mouth so close to your ear that his breath sent a shiver down your spine. “Not yet.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours—rough, possessive, as though he had been holding back for too long and was done pretending. His kiss was demanding, leaving no room for hesitation, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

His hands moved up your sides, brushing over your waist before gripping the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The heat between you two was unbearable now, burning hotter with every second that passed. It was always like this with Draco—everything about him was intense, overwhelming, and you craved it. Craved him.

You gasped against his mouth as his fingers trailed lower, skimming over your stomach before slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. He paused there, his fingers hovering just above your skin, teasing, waiting.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice dark, almost mocking.

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. But the way your hips shifted toward him, the way your breath hitched in your throat, said enough.

Draco’s smirk returned, but there was nothing soft about it. “That’s what I thought.”

With a deliberate slowness that made you ache, he slid his fingers lower, brushing over the sensitive skin between your thighs. The touch was light, teasing, not nearly enough, but you couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that escaped your lips.

You grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him closer, your nails digging into the fabric. “Stop teasing,” you whispered, breathless.

He chuckled softly, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “You think you can tell me what to do?”

Before you could respond, his fingers pressed deeper, his touch finally sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips, your body instinctively arching into his touch.

Draco’s eyes darkened at the sound, his grip tightening as he pulled you even closer, his lips finding the pulse at your throat. “That’s more like it,” he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Your hands were on him now, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel him, to touch him. The moment his shirt fell open, your hands roamed over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the way his body tensed beneath your touch.

In one swift motion, Draco lifted you, pressing you hard against the wall, his hips pinning you there. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he growled against your lips, his hands sliding beneath your dress, pushing it up higher, exposing you to him completely.

“I think I have some idea,” you managed to gasp out, your nails scraping down his back in a way that made him hiss in approval.

Draco didn’t respond—at least, not with words. Instead, he pushed your underwear aside, his fingers moving with deliberate precision, drawing another soft gasp from your lips. He kissed you again, swallowing the sound, his body pressed so tightly against yours it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

Your mind was spinning, lost in the feel of him, in the way his fingers moved over you, the way his lips never left yours, never stopped claiming you. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like you might snap.

Then, without warning, he was inside you, the suddenness of it stealing your breath. He moved slowly at first, letting you adjust to the sensation, but there was nothing slow or gentle about the way his hips rocked into yours. He was relentless, driven by the same burning desire that had been simmering beneath the surface all night.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders, holding onto him as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Every thrust, every movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body arching into his, desperate for more.

“Draco,” you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper as your nails dug into his skin, leaving red scratches in their wake.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his lips finding the spot just beneath your ear as he thrust harder, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m not stopping until you’re begging for me,” he growled, his voice rough with need.

You couldn’t respond—not with words. All you could do was hold onto him, your body trembling with pleasure as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The way he moved, the way he touched you, it was too much and not enough all at once. You were consumed by him, every nerve in your body alight with sensation.

Finally, with one last thrust, you shattered, the pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave, pulling you under. You cried out, your fingers clutching his shoulders as you came undone beneath him. Draco followed moments later, his body tensing, his breath ragged as he buried himself deep inside you one last time.

For a moment, the world was silent, the only sound the ragged breathing between you. Draco’s body was still pressed against yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder as you both tried to catch your breath, the weight of the moment lingering in the air like smoke after a fire. You could feel Draco’s heart racing against your chest, the aftershocks of your connection still buzzing in the air.

“Now do you see?” he murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rumble as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re not getting away from me. Not now. Not ever.”

You smiled softly, the weight of his words sinking in, thrilling and terrifying all at once. “I wouldn’t want to,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Draco’s lips curled into a smirk, and you could see the satisfaction in his eyes. This was just the beginning—an exhilarating dance of power, desire, and surrender that would leave both of you craving more.

He pulled back slightly, his silver gaze locking onto yours, a glimmer of mischief dancing within them. “You know this isn’t just a game for me. Once I’m in, I’m all in.”

“Good,” you said, a defiant glint in your eyes. “I’m not here for half-measures, Draco.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating between you, sending a thrill down your spine. “Oh, I know. But let me warn you—it’s not just the pleasure that comes with this. There’s a darkness too, and it’s intoxicating.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the thrill of danger mingling with your desire. “I can handle it,” you replied, your voice steady, even as your heart raced.

Draco’s expression softened for a moment, an intensity flickering in his eyes. “Are you sure? Because once you step into my world, there’s no turning back. It’s not just about what we feel in the dark; it’s about who we become.”

With that, he captured your lips again, a searing kiss that left no doubt about what he meant. His hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting every nerve as he pulled you closer, deeper into this intoxicating whirlwind.

As the kiss deepened, you felt that familiar heat rising again, the electric connection between you reigniting with fervor. You were his and he was yours—two souls intertwined in a dance that was as dangerous as it was thrilling.

“Come here,” he commanded softly, pulling you in closer. His hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the nearby bed, where the night’s passion awaited you both once more.

With a gentle but insistent push, he laid you back against the soft sheets, his body hovering over yours. His gaze was intense, as if he were memorizing every detail of you. “You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You smirked, emboldened by the intimacy of the moment. “And you’re not so bad yourself, Malfoy.”

He grinned, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he settled between your legs, his hands exploring your body again. “You know, I’ve always had a weakness for pretty things. Especially when they come with a little bit of fire.”

You arched an eyebrow, the challenge in your eyes evident. “Fire? You have no idea what you’re in for.”

Draco leaned down, capturing your lips once more, but this kiss was different—hungry, desperate, filled with the promise of what was to come. He slipped his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you slightly as he pressed himself against you.

“Show me,” he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Show me just how fiery you can be.”

With a surge of determination, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, feeling the heat radiate between you as you began to move together again. Each thrust was deliberate, each movement driving you both higher, building that familiar tension until it felt almost unbearable.

Draco’s breath quickened, his hands gripping you tightly as he urged you both on, his voice a low growl as he urged you to take what you wanted. “Don’t hold back,” he urged, and you reveled in the way he encouraged your wildness, your hunger for him.

“I won’t,” you said, your body responding eagerly to his every command.

As the rhythm intensified, you could feel the world outside fading away, leaving the two of you lost in this passionate storm. Every sound, every whisper echoed through the room as you lost yourselves in each other, the walls shaking with intensity of your connection.

The night sketched on, a blur of heat and pleasure, darkness and light, until finally, as the dawn began to creep in, you collapsed together, breathless and spent.

Draco lay beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours, a satisfied smile curling on his lips. “I told you,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “You’re mine now. And I won’t let you go easily.”

You smiled, tiredly, curling closer to him, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, your heart racing at the realization that this was only the beginning of what lay ahead.

As the first rays of light broke through the darkness, you knew you were tangled in his world now, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would take you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the room as you and Draco lounged together after another intense day. You were curled up against him, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders, the comfortable silence between you speaking volumes.

“Last night was...” he started, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. He tilted your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “It was different.”

You smiled, remembering every electrifying moment. “Different good, or different weird?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Good, definitely good. But it made me realize something.” His expression turned serious, and your heart raced at the shift in his tone. “You know how we’ve been... doing this? The passion, the connection, the nights we’ve shared?”

“Yeah?” you replied, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

“I don’t want it to be just that,” he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours. “I want more. I want you—more than just a fleeting moment in the dark. I want you in my life, officially.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the weight of his words sank in. “Are you saying...?”

He nodded, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “I’m asking you to be my girlfriend. To be with me, not just in the shadows but out in the open. I want to be able to call you mine.”

You felt a rush of emotions—excitement, fear, hope—all swirling within you. This was what you had secretly wished for, and yet, the reality of it was overwhelming.

“I’d like that,” you said finally, a smile breaking across your face. “I’d like that a lot.”

Draco’s face lit up with that signature smirk, the one that made your heart skip a beat. “Good. Now, let’s make this official then.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft yet full of promise. As you melted against him, you knew that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[tartigglez]

OH MY GOD??? BIRTHDAY??? womb evacuation day, as i like to call it🙀

this got me thinking tbh. modern au, what time would genshin men tell u happy birthday?

first up our 00:01 squad would text u or pull up outside.. mmm thoma 100% hes down bad,, childe as well!! potentially venti

next the boys who wouldn't text and go out of their way to see u first thing!! diluc, kazuha & itto (trust me on this one!!)

would tell u whenever they happened to remember/see you that day .. kaeya, gorou, albedo

WOULD FORGET :(( ayato, xiao

failed to figure out how to text you and spent the morning pecking at phone buttons -zhongli

-🫧

Hi bubbly nonnie!! i sincerely apologise for my tardiness (yes i still have your diluc req in the inbox, yes i'm working on it). anyway, here's what i think...

(romantic pairings bc i'm just like that)

"birthday"

thoma, childe, kaeya, zhongli, diluc (separate) x gn!reader

genre: drabble

word count: idk (oops)

a/n: i'm lazy, its been summarised, i don't even count this as a fic i'm just trying to make it look like one because you guys haven't been fed recently and i sincerely apologise. also i made up shit about fontaine to make it fit, do excuse xoxo

thoma definitely shows up outside with cake and a party hat for you both at 12am sharp. does a little dance whilst singing happy birthday to you, and once you've both gotten back into the house and you've blown your candles out, he will immediately pull you in by the waist and kiss you, he just wants you to know he appreciates you!

childe has a tradition each year of making sure he is with you on your birthday, he wants to be there to congratulate you on a new year of you, the second it comes along. The second the clock hits the hour of your birthday, he hugs you tightly before separating from you, announcing...

"you're just as beautiful as last year, darling"

kaeya, the flirty bastard... is still flirty. BUT doesn't want to bother you late at night so instead, he will find you in the morning, when you're in mondstadt buying some groceries, approach you from behind whilst you're trying to buy some fruits (he almost got himself punched) and wrap his arms around your waist. yes you very nearly elbowed him in the stomach, he managed to step out of the way. would casually place his head on your shoulder from behind whilst hugging you and announce, in a low tone...

"happy birthday my dear, i've gotta run, knighthood calls. see you tonight?"

"thanks, kae. see you tonight"

and not that either of you noticed, but the fruit vendor happened to overhear you both, offering you the produce for free.

"if there's anything the people of mondstadt know, far better than barbatos' winds, or how to spot a good wine, it's the cavalry captains love for his partner. here, have a nice birthday, y/n."

unfortunately due to circumstance, zhongli was not able to be in liyue on your birthday. of course, this made him quite upset. he would have teleported back only he had an important meeting in fontaine, and it was stipulated in a contract that he couldn't teleport, lest someone found out about something they shouldn't. thankfully, he had been gifted a smartphone by you for his own birthday the previous year, which he still hadn't quite figured out how to use.

at first he thought he should call you, forgetting that time zones were a thing. sadly by the time he had actually figured out how to make a call (he had to ask focalors, it was an awkward interaction, she also did not know.) he realised that you were quite a few hours ahead of him, and had probably already gone out for the day and couldn't chat.

so he decided to text you. which did not go well (his hands are too big for those damned tiny buttons). he isn't sure till this day if the message even sent, because you never responded.

turns out he had sent it to tartaglia, who actually understood phones enough to forward the text to you...

"gaooy biethdsy mt libe, u hipe thus dsy ia as beauutofil as tou"

diluc is bad at romance. let me rephrase that: diluc does not know how to express his feelings, but wants to spend your birthday with you, so he tries to make it look like an accident that he just happened to be by your side all day.

first thing in the morning, you will notice a noble eagle flying in the sky outside your home. you knew that this bird was none other than dilucs own.

"how strange... why couldn't he just ask me to come to the winery...?"

nevertheless, the large bird flew its way down to land on your garden fence, its sharp talons somehow not scratching the wood, and called to you (i know nothing about birds, sorry), before flying back into the sky in the direction you knew diluc would be waiting. so, you had no choice but to follow it, right?

upon arriving at the winery, you were met by a handsome man in a black dress shirt, holding a bouquet of cecelias. he grabbed your hand and kissed you on the cheek.

"happy birthday, y/n"

SORRY THESE STARTED OFF SHORT AND THEN MY BRAIN STARTED INFODUMPING ON ME

i apologise thoma stans (i'm one of you) i have let you down this day

[bepisbee]

ive seen a lot of four forge blacksmith stuff so heres a silly little thingy

shadows part dragon (and lives) (i am not a blacksmith and have limited knowledge so if i’m wrong please don't hate me pretend its magic idk) they/them for four as a four because they’re a group but not meant to be a system dynamic, it's more magic like gem fusion and they’re all like there. vidow romantic, the other colors are qpp with shadow.

They worked a little better fused, when in the forge. Of course everyone had to be in agreement to do so. It was one of those days. The colors shone through Four’s eyes in rainbow coloring as they sat a metal shape over roasting coals. A large protective apron sat over their undershirt and heavy duty gloves to protect their hands. Their friend and partial platonic partner stood across from them. While Four was sweating from the heat, they glanced up concerned that Shadow seemed unfazed. Was it all the time on death mountain? Shadow watched them aptly as they distractedly pulled the metal with tongs and dropped it. It fell quickly towards their boots. Shadow reacted immediately.

With his bare hands, he caught the hot metal dagger. One fourth of them froze in realization of some very important facts they never shared. Also the only part that noticed how Shadow’s palm turned into black scales where the metal touched. All the rest of them began panicking about it. They spoke at the same time making gibberish out. Shadow placed the metal down gently.

“Hey, hey, It’s fine.” he raised his hands up, one still scaled. “I’m fine.” as he blinked his eyes were more slit than normal pupils. It made Four fall apart.

“Oof!”

“Shit-sorry you alright?”

“ohmygods.”

“...oops.”

Shadow looked between them as Blue helped up Green who he’d accidentally knocked over. Red was staring open mouthed, and Vio was looking between him and the group looking sheepish.

“Ha… Uhm. Surprise?” Vio tugged awkwardly at his sleeve. “Sorry, I didn’t really think to mention…”

As he spoke Blue came up and inspected Shadow’s scaled hand, turning it over and gently running his thumb across where he’d held the metal.

“Huh.”

“Y-yeah. I didn’t really wanna weird y’all out.” Shadow excuses. Really he was self conscious about being part literal monster. “Sorry I scared ya.” Blue seemed satisfied he was ok and let him go.

“Don’t do that again.” 

“Wait- “ Green stared pointedly at Vio. “You knew??”

“Of course I knew,” he scoffs. “We lived in a volcano, Green.” he rolled his eyes. “Shadow being extra and running his damn hands through lava falls to show off was a regular occurance.”

“You say that like it didn’t work,” Shadow cocked a hip with his arms crossed. “You treated me like an experiment to dissect.” Despite the wording, he was obviously infatuated with the idea. “You wanna know everything~” Vio turned red.

“Oh shut up.”

“You have a notebook that contains an imprint of my teeth.”

“You do??” Red perked up. “Can I see? Shadow won’t let me! He said they were too sharp.”

“Because you’ll hurt yourself! And then Blue would beat me up!”

“Damn right I would.”

“Okay,” Green took off their apron and hung it up with the gloves. “I think this calls for a break.” 

Red began following them back into the house, badgering Shadow with questions. “Are your claws actually talons? Do you have a tail? Wings?? Can I touch them?”

Vio smirks, he’s also given their partner the third degree about his body. Positively of course.

“Sort of, not the kind you’re thinking of, but you can touch it, and no wings.” Shadow grins his sharp predator teeth. “Ow!” Vio smacks his arm.

“Really??” he reprimanded. Shadow just laughed. They sat in their kitchen letting Blue make the tea. Shadow offered his hands palm up for them on the table. His arms and hands shifted into shiny black scales, some of them with a violet shine in the light. His red eyes slitted, although still pretty big pupils considering his company.

“Watch the nails, very sharp.”

Red and Green inspected him. Vio watched in amusement. This was going to take awhile.

BONUS

Vio held Shadow’s clawed hands in awe. “That really was nothing to you?” The shiny black scales were smooth as he felt them.

“Haha yeah, cool right?”

“Is it just your hands?” Vio looked him over like he wanted to devour him. Shadow was about to learn just how much Vio and curiosity really fell together as the same word.

“Oh no, I can make my whole body do that!”

“Can I see? How does it work? Does it hurt? Can you feel this?” Vio ran his hand across his arm. The shiver answered that question. “Do you feel warmth at all? Does cold bother you?? Are you warmer inside than Hylians?” He put a wrist on Shadow’s forehead. “Woah, you are. huh. woah!” Shadow’s pupils blew wide at the contact. “That was cool!” He cupped his face to look closer and Shadow’s cheeks flushed. He honestly thought Vio was going to kiss him; he was so close. “Is that why you have sharp teeth? Do you eat more meat? I haven’t been around you to eat yet… Are you planning on eating me??” He let go.

“Haha calm down, I wouldn't eat you. No matter how good you might taste.” The joke went right over the poor boy’s head. “I’ll answer you but one at a time alright?” He offered his hand. “Come on, let’s get inside first.” Vio took it gratefully. They didn’t let go even after returning home.

[givehimthemedicine]

a few more bloodstain thoughts: Brenner / Test Room 2 edition

(this is an easier one and there's no crime scene pics, fear not)

TLDR; main takeaways: 1) the blood on Brenner is screwy and 2) there's possible evidence of two unknown players entering Test Room 2 while Brenner was unconscious

I don't get Brenner's shirt blood any more than I get One's shirt blood

sir, why and how are wounds on the right side of your face bleeding onto your left collar? you don't appear to be injured there. like at all.

"maybe it dripped when his head was turned-" he hasn't bled enough for it to even run down to his chin. also, he woke up like that.

he would've had to be vertical when these drips happened. but the door knocked him right down, and he hasn't stood up yet, and the blood is already there.

"what if those aren't drips, but transfer?"

ok sure. could be. he does hug Ten's bloody face, after all. that's a great way to transfer blood.

but he hugs Ten into his right shoulder. and, we see it doesn't transfer any blood.

but those stains are sooo transferry. suspiciously like he already did hug Ten on his left side when the blood was fresher. blood tracks down his face and dripped onto his chest would line up decently with the Brenner shirt blood.

no matter how you explain it, the events that put that blood on Brenner's shirt are missing.

and something about them both having blood on their left collar is. idk. I mean One's is spatter and Brenner's is either passive or transfer so they def happened differently but still. I'm itchy

whose blood is on the EEG machine?

obviously, somebody fell and hit the sharp metal corner of this EEG machine.

but we saw Brenner get hit straight on by the door. his face wounds should just be from the door. he didn't spin around and hit his face on this thing too.

arrow pointing to the corner that winds up with blood on it. just to understand its position in the room.

it's possible the door knocked Brenner back and the cart spun a little and he hit his head on that corner of that thing. but the back of his head isn't bleeding. his hair is white enough that we'd see it easily.

could be Ten's blood I guess, although he wasn't very directly in the blast path. I suppose the blood puddle under the EEG net is a vote for that - OOPS no, wait, we get a very good look at Ten's head and it's not bloody, nor is the back of his gown.

can that EEG tell us anything else?

the paper feeds out continuously, in fact it's still on and feeding out a flat line reading when Brenner wakes up.

we know it flatlines when you take the thing off your head.

I'll bet some smart person could take the rate at which that paper comes out and approximate how much paper is coiled up on the floor and do the monster math about how much time has elapsed. not me tho

I'd like to know another means of measuring how much time has elapsed. because according to the RR clock, 45 minutes pass between Brenner taking Ten for lessons and Brenner coming into the RR to say "what have you done". but that clock doesn't always tell the truth. so idk.

Test Room 2 and the cat room

there is that cage in the background.

and that is the same EEG as El's in the cat scene. like the exact same one, you can tell by these dings in the paint:

@henrysglock you've just been all over Test Room 2 - what do you think about this being the same room?

I mean, It's Not. the hallways outside these two rooms aren't remotely the same, and the whole s1 and s4 labs are wholly different. but I mean like, in a timelines way...? is there anything here?

(no point really, I'm just throwing things at the wall. I don't know why but I want this to be the room El drew)

Test Room 2 doorway blood stain

in pondering james' creature attack theory I was wondering whether I could blame the same impact that blew the door in for leaving that blood stain. in other words, could a creature have physically busted that door with a swipe of a bloody hand.

I'm gonna say no, separate event, because

the door looks bent in the middle (looks at the sparks fly off that center hinge), not so low to the ground. if force at the bottom blew the door off it wouldn't have flown in top-first when it hit Brenner

if the blood goes as far in as the stop moulding, it would have touched the door too, had the door been closed when that happened. I don't see any blood on the door

so this blood got transferred after the door was off.

I wanna know who or what was bouncing from wall to wall all down these halls sooooo bloody but not bloody enough to leave blood trails on the floor.

say you're mortally wounded and dragging yourself aaaggh down the hallway, leaning against the wall because you can't stand upright, and you pass across an open doorway - wouldn't you tend to kinda fall into it?

maybe no one slid across it. maybe it fits better with someone getting dragged into it, kinda like this:

of course then we're missing other evidence that should go along with that idea though (you'd think there might be bloody hand streaks on the floor; Ten's and Brenner's hands aren't bloody) (can I blame this on El's bloody hands?)

this other doorway-oriented bloodstain also looks like someone with bloody hands being dragged towards the doorway/into the room, but once again the dead occupant's hands are clean:

we know SOMEBODY entered Test Room 2 and killed Ten while Brenner was knocked out. but the killer wouldn't be the bloody hands person, because the bloody hands person was dragged in there against their will. the killer would enter freely, voluntarily.

so if those are hand-grab-smears on those doorways, that gives us TWO unknown entities entering those rooms.

why are there no footprints?

boy they really wanted me to see what it looks like for a demodog to bust down a metal door. and granted the prison door is probably a lot heavier than the lab door, but it took him a few tries and the door didn't seem to dent.

anyway going to get that gif to compare to the Test Room 2 door caused me to notice this demodog leaving its bloody footprints on the floor. Russian demogorgon also has very bloody hands and face after killing.

we can conclude from the massacre stains that at least one person, somewhere, is VERY injured and catastrophically bleeding. if I blame this on a creature, that means said creature is also very bloody. which made me realize I don't see any creature tracks in the lab.

this is not anti-creature-theory though, because there are other creatures besides demodogs, and because whatever dragged Billy didn't leave tracks, and because I also don't see bloody shoeprints even though we know there were many people present.

like, especially this splatter in the RR for which the easiest explanation is that somebody stomped in it. where did that person's next step land?

(lol 007 please come to a full and complete stop. you are dead.)

NOBODY stepped in ANYTHING? this feels staged. I mean, it is. but staged-by-the-lab or something too.

[frozenjokes]

the boatem ghosts epilogue is over 10k words I am filled with such great fear what have I started. Also given that I’m writing it all before I post it bc I have no idea what I’m doing uhhhhhhhh idk where o was going with that here’s a sneak peak.

cw: violence, fighting, not really much blood cub is a ghost and scar is built different. That’s all the context you really need

Also this is unedited

***

He grabbed for the firework rockets in his pocket, but Scar was quick, his claws hooking into Cub’s legs. Cub shrieked and kicked out, but his foot found no solid purchase on Scar’s body. In a moment of panic, he dove downward before Scar could drag him out of the air, aiming to drive him against a tree. The thing about running headfirst into trees however, is that you, the guy in front, also get a face full of bark if you’re not careful, which Cub was decidedly not. Cub reeled back, unsure if the screech filling the air was his own or Scar’s. He sat, suspended in a daze, but didn’t get the chance to recover before Scar pounced, dragging him to the ground in a sharp pin.

“I’m not done with you. I have one more question. Go ahead and relax, alright?” Scar breathed, his nails shaking lightly against Cub’s shoulders. Cub huffed, his eyes closing seemingly against his own will. Well, it wasn’t like he could see much anyway face down in the dirt. And resting here, surrounded by such a strong magic presence, well, it was comfortable. If he didn’t think too hard about the claws in his back, he almost felt safe. He hoped this spell wasn’t going to affect his memory.

“Good,” Scar continued when Cub didn’t answer, still breathing heavily, “This magic I’m doing, I know you can track it, but can anyone else? I didn’t see any other… vex.. whatever you are.. around.”

Cub grumbled to himself, struggling to turn his head, which Scar did not make any easier. “We all have ways to track traces of magic of any creature that’s able to use it. When you’re looking for a specific mob, we’ve got machines that can track anything. If someone wanted to find an evoker or a vex, they could. As it stands, it’s pretty obvious something big is here. Though, I don’t think anyone is looking, so you can take your nails out of my back, thank you.”

Scar seemed to take his last comment as a suggestion to do the opposite. Cub winced, the fog on his mind parting slightly. Was this part of the spell? Did Scar have to work to make him comfortable for it to be most effective?

“Right. Well I’m done with you now.” Scar wrenched his claws across Cub’s back, Cub opening his eyes fast enough to see the sneer on Scar’s face. His stomach dropped. He couldn’t die here. What if his spirit couldn’t find its way out? Scar seemed to wait for Cub’s response, cruelty dancing in his expression. Cub didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but he needed to buy time.

“My question,” Cub pushed back, fighting to push back the reason for his fear from his voice, “I haven’t asked my question.”

“Oops,” Scar raked his claws against his back once more and Cub opened his mouth in a silent scream, “Well, I’m getting tired, so maybe next time, hm?” Scar raised his arm to strike again, but Cub turned, drawing his own claws across Scar’s face, catching the left side. Scar gasped as Cub scrambled out from under him, but apparently the threat of injury was not enough to deter the vex. Either the spell made Cub move slower, or Scar was just quick, but as Scar leapt again, it was becoming increasingly clear Cub wouldn’t be able to run.

Cub turned to face him, just fast enough to catch one arm, but not the other as Scar dragged it down his chest. Scar only grazed his skin, but given the malevolent excitement in his eyes, Cub got the impression that was on purpose. He was being played with. He lashed out clumsily, but Scar stepped back, diving forward at the follow-through and knocking Cub back to the ground. Cub kicked out again, but still couldn’t seem to strike where the other’s scars had made him physical. Cub grimaced as Scar shoved his arms to the ground.

“You’re afraid, now why is that? This isn’t about the question, is it, Cub,” Scar snickered, digging his claws through the old injuries in his arms. Cub winced at the discomfort, struggling to pull his face away from Scar.

“Let me go. I’ll leave, you don’t have to send me back this way. I’ll leave.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Believe me I’ll leave. I won’t even come back for a while, if that’s what you want,” Cub squeezed his eyes shut, wincing at his own desperation. He could swallow his pride if that meant he could get out of here in one piece.

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe you,” Scar drew his claws gently across Cub’s neck in a tease. Cub thrashed, but stopped stiffly as Scar tightened his grip. “Are you worried? About getting lost?”

Cub gritted his teeth as Scar pressed down harder. “No.”

“Ah, well that’s good. Personally, I’m feeling optimistic! Watching you bumble around the woods for a couple hours has got me feeling pretty good about this. Good luck!”

“No-” but Scar had already ripped away his throat, sending darkness swirling through his vision.

[howlingdemon13]

Okay but consider the cv3 gang as dinosaurs, what do you think each of them would be? 👀

Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!

My choices have been very carefully considered because it’s so hard to narrow it down when it comes to my two favorite things jwjfjdjsndjdks

Okay okay so, easy one first!

Sypha is a Parasaurolophus. They’re magic-coded - I don’t make the rules. There’s something both ethereal and imposing about Paras that screams “yes, I’m very lovely, but watch out.” Like, it’s kinda nuts just how big Paras are. I wouldn’t want to get charged by one. If that’s not Sypha, then idk what is. Visually, the crest is like a built-in staff that I think would be a good visual link. And this has absolutely nothing to do with Parasaurolophus being my favorite hadrosaur and one of my favorites in general. 👀💦

Grant’s hard to pick a dino for tbh, but if we’re going “small-but-mighty”, then any species of microraptor would fit really well! They were capable of climbing and of gliding, so I think that fits well with Grant’s abilities in-game. That said though, any species of dromeaosaurid like Velociraptor or even Utahraptor works, too. Considering that there’s some fossil evidence to suggest that Utahraptor may have hunted cooperatively (at least in family groups), then I think that’s as good a fit as any for Grant’s role as a team player. Oh, that and the sickle claws. But, going off of that aesthetic alone, then Therizinosaurus or other related species with big, fuck-all claws works, too. Maybe even something like Suchomimus?

Trevor’s hard to pick for, too. I want to say any large dromeaosaur, but then part of me is like “why not a Diplodocus because of its whip tail and long shape?” Which, like, yeah, tall and long is Trevor to a T. Again, hard to pick between the two options, but I think I’m more inclined to say big dromeaosaur. Preferably one that has big feathers since Trevor is “soft-but-sharp-coded” in my lil pea brain. Oops, my favorite family of carnivorous dinosaurs has been discovered.

Alucard has to be a dino with horns or something. Again, I don’t make the rules. But I don’t think any ceratopsian fits him?? So that basically leaves either Ceratosaurus or Carnotaurus. OR something that may have had a really elaborate display feature like Dilophosaurus, and I’m more inclined to pick the Dilo since it’s less bulky than the other contenders. That, and they were pretty big without being massive and losing that streamlined, elegant shape.

(I will say that a large pterosaur like Quetzalcoatlus would fit since they can fly, are huge, and look very graceful, but not a dino.)

Is this subject to change? Maybe, but I like all these options. C:

[sycamorality]

DEAR VOIDS SLUGCAT DESIGNS HERE WE GO.

also this nightcat is seperate from my invterator askblog nightcat. for clarification

id honestly consider the cut arena scug 4 an oc at this point. it deviates so much from the One sprite we get. oops

seperates + Not So Line Lineup under cut AS WELL AS DESIGN NOTES woooh boy. MIND YOU its really long

the Not So Line Lineup

survivor! scar on snout is based on one of the cut arena sprites for player 1, it has a little.. scar? notch? line? there. survivor passage symbol on head as well and freckles :) some brown to match monk sorta. spikey fur!

^ what the scar is based on

overall more rounded than survivor, to reference the monk passage symbol which is also on their head. a little dewlap to reference gourmand - i think gourmand and survivor and monk are related. lighter yellows to reference survivor!

third sibling!!! the little orange line on their head is actually karma 7 (i realized survivor is karma 5 and monk is karma 6- so why not go with the theme?) and a sorta partial saint symbol on their head, missing the middle line. yellow/red accenting color to reference monk and survivor sorta. blu :)

sorta pinker. based on one of my old draft designs, just made a little better. green accent color to match sig. a little fluffy and sharp. ear tufts cause theyre fun and a tufted tail. hunter passage symbol is also on tail teehee. sig's head symbol is also on hunter. the scar is also green

nightcat is some sorta weird echo thing. to me. little wings for the fun of it. i dont have much on this design honestly other than i used dodge A Lot. the accenting pink on the dark purple parts was originally an accident but like? it vibes.

wanderer! cause actually why not. the white symbol on their chest is a half of sig's symbol, i'd like to think sig helped suns make wanderer. if you put its head symbol together with nightcat it makes the scholar :) blue accenting color is close to the negative/opposite colors of nightcat.

i dont have many notes for this biggol guy. sorta looks alike survivor and monk i suppose. feathers! theyre sorta rose colored i think. idk. it looks nice. simple patterns cause gourmand is a symbol guy

artiiii. i wanted to put an accent color on arti but it was so Hard because i was Stubborn and Needed That Damn Cyan on it. markings based on a siamese cat except for the ones on the arm and legs, theyre sort of tabby based?

green pup is tabby based in markings, pink sorta looks like flower petals. blue pup is siamese cat based in markings and the yellow? idk it looked nice

RIVULETTT. i love rivulet. i made the bright sunset gradient contrast by adding some darker but still vibrant blues and purples to the design, as well as a cream. there's also actual gills udner the display frills (which also got a color update to match instead of being an offbrand bi flag). also webbed fingers!!!

vibrant fuckin purple because it looks nice actually. made it have some cream-pink-purple thing as underbelly instead to make it look nicer. head markings are based directly on suns :) biggol Orb Eyes to Stare In Your Soul. accenting colors sorta match rivulet? idk? they just look nice without contrasting too much. also whiskers. and tall. and thin with long ass grabbers

i kept getting "portal colors" and "aroace flag" and like YEA YALL ARE RIGHT ACTUALLY i just wanted to fit blue and orange on it though lmao. anyway pretty simple body markings to make up for the Six Fucking Accent Colors. three forehead dots are yellow while there's an x on its back and head thats blue... to imitate the rot :) why? figure it out yourself

inv!! not much has changed since honestly i just saturated the colors a bit more i think. idk. i like the yellow on inv though so i make it more prominent sorta? just a guy. still an iterator that turned itself into a slugcat. to me.

originally based on this cut arena slugcat

then i uh. accent color and scales and um. um. im so normal about this slugcat holyshit curveberry my beloved.... anyway the scales were originally a dark teal? then i hueshifted them and Oh Fuck Dusk Colors Holy Shit. its so good i genuinely love this design so much i doodled it lmao. the scales are based on a pangolin. i actually have ideas for this if it were to be a slugcat campaign...

another cut arena slug! this time this one. i tried to keep it more in line rather than go a bit silly ehe. i still like how this came out- i think the accent color is nice. it looks like bingus to me actually. bingus slugcat

iggy projection slug. weird thing with lines under its eyes

to me this is another of nsh's purposed messengers. the lil guy that sent the distateful message. whatever it was icr the exacts but. him. boy. the darker pink is like armor like a centipede. looks like ham to me

iggy projection slug that had silly little small ears so i thought i'd include them

i was having so much trouble with this design but @pinkavtomation actually helped me out because i was. Struggling so hard and i was streaming doing these designs in vc (for 9 hours straight... voids) 'n it sent this and honestly. yeah. funky vitiligo cat to me.

colors r sorta based on vanilla and chocolate icecream???? thats what i was thinkin when i was lookin at it honestly. just a lil guy to me

[praphit]

Evil Dead Rise: ... but how fat is yo mama?

How much do you trust your gut?

There are certain people who should never trust their gut. In fact, it would benefit them, and everyone around them, if they do the exact opposite of everything their gut leads them to do. Then, there are others who can arrive at a casino, kiss their cards at the blackjack table, and stack winnings all night, you know??

I saw the trailer for "Evil Dead Rise", 

and my gut was like "Meh. Looks generic. Not for me. I'll catch it when it streams... maybe" BUT, MY gut isn't ALWAYS right (a good 90% ;), and it was, at that time, full of beer, so...

Plus, things change when you don't have to pay (which I didn't), and I do have a soft spot for a pretty smile.

Let's do this:

First of all, if some of you diehard "Evil Dead" fans are looking for nostalgia, you won't find much here.

This movie mostly takes place in an apartment, in the city, and not in a cabin. There's no Ash, 

so not as much charm to grace the scenes.

And I'd say, a lot less goofy than any of the other stories told in this franchise.

That could be good or bad for you. Idk.

We've still got The Book of the Dead though!

I'd like to chastise these people for not knowing by now that this book should be left alone, but... any of us would probably do the same thing, right??

We'd find it - "Huh.... kinda looks like that Book of the Dead people have been talking about.Can't be though, right?? That's not real. Actually looks kinda cool."

We'd see that it's made of human flesh and locked tight by sharp teeth - 

"Oh, cool."

We'd prick our fingers on those teeth, and accidentally open this book - 

"Ouch, but kinda cool."

We'd flip through it, thinking it can't be THAT bad, as someone near us says something about having a bad feeling about this - "Yeah, me too, but still kinda cool, right?? I don't believe in any of that stuff. oh, look at this. Let's say these spooky, Latin words out loud."

*spookiness happens*

"Oh, bleep, it IS that bad. Oops. "

That's pretty much what happens here (again). This time it's a family who opens the book. They're living in the city, in a dark apartment.

I mean DARK. The light that they do have seems to be mood setting for a seance, not happy family time. This is before any dark spirits even show up. If I may pause to offer y'all some advice - Be sure not to have your home looking like a place demons would want to hang out.

I would say that every home should have a cross somewhere in it; even if you don't believe in its power: not just a cross, but some Aquafina labeled "Holy Water," or at the very least a picture of Tim Tebow, just to make any demons think twice before entering.

The shit goes down pretty quickly, and the movie has a solid pace of horror and suspense. Don't ask me why nobody seems to live on any other floors in this apartment complex, or why no one thinks to call the cops (not that they could help, but...). There ain't no tenants walking the halls, or yelling about this family being too loud. Nobody at the front desk. Not even any delivery people wandering about. A perfect place to live if you're a drug dealer or murderer; no one around to ask questions. It's pretty much this family and a couple of neighbors being witnesses to bloody screams, loud banging, and demonic possession taking place in the hallway.

Though if you peeked out of your door and saw this woman (Alyssa Sutherland), 

covered in blood. And then, saw a bunch of mutilated bodies in the hall, with some of those mutilated bodies chanting "DEAD BEFORE DAWN!"... perhaps you'd keep to yourself as well. Just put on some noise-cancelling headphones and mind yo own business.

On a technical level, there's a lot to love about this movie:

Lee Cronin was doing his thang in the director's chair. He made all of the gore and blood a delight to watch.

(ok, so maybe a lil nostalgia :)

This movie is very creepy, so big props to him.

These actors are also good. Not like Oscar-winning good :) It's not like we'll hear "And the winner for best actress goes to Alyssa Sutherland (who carried this film btw) for playing a possessed mother, trying to kill her kids." BUT, a lot of these actors have to play "normal people" and then turn around and play possessed people, and that takes some skills to be believable; especially with the younger actors. If you're a fan of gore, look no further! 

There's something that happens at the end of this movie that is artfully terrifying and still kinda fun.  Sam Raimi points for sure!

All of that being said, my gut wasn't too far off.

FOR ME, at least. My gut is for me. Honestly, I missed Ash. I missed a character with his... whatever the hell you can call it. Je ne sais quoi :) All of these characters are bland to me. But, more than that, this movie was kinda hopeless. Now, that's on me. One can't expect to find hope in a movie called "Evil Dead Rise". Fair point, but I guess I was looking for some good vs evil or some "there's still a chance" vs evil. Where are the angelic forces to balance things out? No priests around sensing any disturbances? I'm just looking for ONE person  with some sort of faith. No? Just seemed like TEAM GOOD is dropping the ball here.

Come to think of it, there IS  a priest in this movie (his audio), but his message is pretty much "Well, ya f*cked up, didn't you? Y'all doomed." What kind of priest gives sermons of despair?!

Some might say, "That's the franchise. Praphit, you just don't get it." You know what?? - you're right, and I don't want to. I'm good. i'm afraid that if I end up "getting it" that someone looking like "Mama Smiley" will show up and drag me away.

It's ok not to get things.

Just not for me. If you can say out loud "I just want pure gruesome killing and gore that leaves a taste of unholiness in my mouth for days to come.", then have I got a movie for you. You should probably sit with that declaration for a while :) but afterwards, quickly run to the theaters to see this movie, and declare it your film of the year.

I like demonic possessed killings as much as the next person, but mix it up.

You know that comedian who's known for telling dirty jokes?? I like them too, but I like a lil blend: some knock-knock jokes, some relational humor, and maybe some comments about how fat somebody's mama is.... and then get back to the dirty. I'm cool with that. You can't just give me a river of perversion though :) BUT, some people like that. Some people want to bathe in that river. To each their own, I suppose.

Two grades:

Grade B for you soulless gore-lovers out there, and a generous C,  for the rest of us God-fearing people in the audience :)

There was so much blood at the end of this movie that I couldn't tell the characters apart. They were just red people (I have to admit, I like that :) But, so much gross action was happening in the movie that it literally spilled over into reality. Someone vomited right outside of the theater doors.I don’t know if it was due to the movie or if someone couldn’t hold their liquor, but still...

So much of the demonic, that I craved purity when I walked out. Like being dehydrated on a hot Summer day, longing for water. I needed something pure to cling to. I could see that some others who were walking out needed comfort as well. It was a Saturday, but I bet some of them sped off to church. It was weird, because I felt a glowing appreciation for the blood-soaked art that I just watched (I mean that. A lot of cool parts!), and yet I felt so unclean. All I wanted to do was go home, take a shower, and snuggle up next to my picture of Tim Tebow.

[reanimationstation]

[ID: a digital painting from the bust up. its a teenager looking almost directly at the camera with a neutral expression. theyre hispanic with black eyes and have almost shoulder length messy black hair with a few white strands throughout. they are wearing a labcoat/end ID]

self portrait (long ramble/rant about character designs and representation under cut)

so fun fact, i designed victor frankenstein before realizing how much he would shape my life, so.....i didnt think to make him look like me besides vague resemblance in the hair. which is why his current design is white. yes hes swiss but shut up i can design however i want, and i wish i did take those liberties. regardless, its far too late to go back and change anything about him, especially with TIS etc etc. on one hand im happy that he doesnt look like me, because i can still draw him if i am in a very self depricating mood lmao. on the other hand its a little annoying that theres so little of me in my design for someone i see so much of myself in.

because like. admittedly, im so tired of white character designs UGH like dammit theres never any freaking representation for anyone that looks vaguely like me, especially in gothic lit. a bunch of other artists do the same (no hate), and im pissed that i fell to the same thing!! i try to make it up with side characters but that not the same. yes, victor has sickly victorian twink energy, which elicits a mental image of a pale dude, but a!! im angry!! where am i, wheres everyone who doesnt fit that description??

when designing jekyll, at the time i was more into J&H than frankenstein, which is why my jekyll is hispanic and has a rounder face shape. but i wish i did a similar thing with vic. maybe not looking exactly like me, but i wish i made him hispanic. nothing really has to change, just intent. it forever infuriates me that i dont have a character thats really me and i cant think of a mad scientist in media thats hispanic (and not any stereotypes).

yes, the source material is very very white but a lot of us have just accepted that for the main characters with no protest and im :/ tired of it even though im also at fault

i would word this more eloquently, but im tired, so you got this mess

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

ayato takes care of you <33

masterlist.

i have returned from the depths of hell /hj 

anyway 

tw: a 🔪 and some 🩸 (minor)  notes: modern au and you two are married and possible ooc ayato ? idk i haven’t played in a hot minute also the reader is gender neutral + a perfectionist because yes 

🧋 

you're living with your dearest husband Ayato. you both live in this not too small-not too large two story house with a balcony that overlooks the ocean in Inazuma. as he works you're cooking dinner, because. mans can't even boil water correctly LMAOO 

anyway, Ayato emerges from his office as you're cutting green onions for your dinner (which is going to be tonkotsu ramen if you were wondering) when suddenly-- oops! your clumsy self slipped and cut your finger with the sharp knife. a flash of pain hits you as you can feel your finger pulsating. "Ah!" you exclaim in pain as you put down the knife. he immediately notices you accidentally hurt yourself and rushes toward you (mans is so protective of you its so cute). "are you alright?" he asks, a worried expression painted on his face. "y-yeah, i just cut my finger a little. i'll be fine, don't worry!" your finger says otherwise, but you don't want him to be stressed even more since his work was already stressful, so you try and wave him off with your uninjured hand as you grab a paper towel and some tape close by to make a makeshift band aid as the first aid kit was in the bathroom.

"no, you're not okay. i can see it in your face." his gorgeous blue eyes stare into your beautiful face twisted in pain. you turn away from him in shame and he sighs. "come on, let me see how bad it is." he reaches out a hand for you to take. 

you slowly turn around and reach out the hand which is painted red due to your bloody finger. your other hand hides your face as embarrassment washes over you. he inspects it gently, so delicately, as if your hand was an antique piece of china ready to break at any given moment. "hmm.. you haven't lost too much blood, so that's a good sign. wait here, let me get the first aid kit." you do so as he runs to the bathroom to get the kit from under the sink. he returns with some rubbing alcohol, a cotton swab, and a band aid. you feel tears prickling in your eyes as he looks at you calmly. after he wipes the excess blood off your finger, he says, "stay still, this is going to sting a little." he dabs a bit of rubbing alcohol onto the cotton swab, then gently applies it to the wound. you flinched from the sting. he holds your hand still, then continues to apply. he then wraps the band aid around your injured finger. "i'm sorry..." your voice finally emerges, rogue tears falling down your cheeks. "hm?" he looks up at you, taken aback. "why are you apologizing?" 

"i... i just wanted t-to make you s-something nice f-for dinner.. and, and i-i messed up.. i'm sorry.." you pull back the hand he was holding and cover your face again with both hands. the perfectionist in you is screaming and you silently belittle yourself. "hey.. hey! dearest, look at me." he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. "you don't need to apologize. you made a mistake and that's okay. it happens. you're human. humans make mistakes. it's alright." he said gently while wiping away your tears. you sniffle. "thanks.. for bandaging my finger and all that.." he hums as a smile spreads on his face. you look down at your finger. "though, why is there a blue's clues logo on it?" you both giggle. "ah, uh.. must've gotten the wrong box at walmart by mistake.. silly me!" he sheepishly replies as you roll your eyes. he will never grow up, sometimes.. 

he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pushing your face into his chest. his scent was always comforting, and it calmed you down. he started peppering kisses on the top of your head as a soft silence covered you both. "so.." he finally speaks. how about we order doordash or uber eats tonight, hmm?" he asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. you chuckle. "let me guess, with a side of boba tea?"