#in the same vein i think he takes the bad of it really poorly. like bad moods or tummy aches or something

[rubyfunkey]

I'm with Anii! I craved for someone acknowledging Narinder's eventual love for mortality!! And I wholeheartedly believe it would take a toll on Lamb one day since they're slowly losing mortality, ironic isn't it?

i havent thought about that angle much but id like to think they could keep each other in check maybe. maybe.

[meili-sheep]

When your minding your business going through the diluc tag, and then you end up seeing someone's trash opinion on him that ends ruining your whole day...

And of course it's from someone who has a positive view on Kaeya. 😒

I bet if it was reversed people would be defending Kaeya (people are mostly defending him anyways because he's good looking, why is diluc considered the ugly sibling? There's nothing ugly about him)

(Also, I don't know anything about DC, but your Jason Todd / Batman post are interesting to read through. Who do you think in the Bat family would get along well with diluc?)

So I personally have a habit of when I feel my opinion is too negative towards a character…. I don't tag the post. Because it's not a post for fans of that characters. And I'm not trying to give anyone shit for like that character or thinking otherwise.

But it is what it is, and some people have trouble drawing lines like that. I have a lot of thought about fanon vs. canon and might type them out one day, but that's not today.

Diluc gets called ugly because, well, he's a bit bug eyed. And his model has aged more poorly than the other as Hoyo's designs have evolved. Do I think he's ugly? Hell no. that's my baby baby boy!

Another thing I find a lot of the bad takes on Diluc also come form bad takes on Kaeya. They really like babying him and really objectifying him like he's not a complex character who realized he hurt someone he cared about and takes ownership of that mistake.

Now for me to go a bit Rabid. Jason Todd is a special interest of mine. And boy if I had a nickle for every time I've obsessed over a fictional character associated with birds and the color who has a more popular sibling associated with birds and the color blue and who is often mischaracterized as an angry asshole I'd have two nickles which isn't a lot but weird it happened twice.

As for BatFamily Diluc would get along with. For starters Jason. I think Diluc would see their similarities, but realized Jason doesn't really get that support that Diluc does. So Diluc being Diluc. Would take it upon himself. Would Jason like this? Eeheheheh he'd be the dramatic little shit he always is but Diluc would definitely take it in stride.

Tim would probably be the one who Diluc would really get alone with. Like in the same vein of how I think Albedo and Diluc get along. I haven't read a lot of Tim. But they both are people born in the upper class who have the easiest route of all but are choice to take the hard way to do what they think is right and know to help people. I don't know as much about Tim, but I can see him and Diluc have really deep intellectual debate and just be very stimulating for each other without being frustrating.

Damian would be another one. But he'd be in the same boat as Jason. Diluc see's a kid who's struggling not totally getting the support he might need and is trying to learn. Trying to be better. So again Diluc would look out for him even if Damian doesn't like it (read the boy wonder)

Cass I think would be another good friend. Diluc is a person who can deal with silence, and I also think they be eye-opening for them. Haven't read a ton of Cass yet, tho. She definitely could see a lot more of Diluc's gentle side.

Dick and Kate might also be in there. But they might have a hard time with Diluc's rougher exterior and awkwardness. Barbara and him would defiantly get a long, but I think it would take some time.

[black-aurora-nora]

Beloved - You’re Never Leaving Us (Pt. 2) Fantasy AU! Yandere!BakuShima x Turning!Reader

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Katsuki and Eijirou that you were changing in ways that they hadn’t planned for.

The windows in your room were to stay boarded up and blinded to keep the sun from burning you and to keep you from escaping. 

The two men knew they’d have to put you in a windowless room since you seemed to be gaining a newfound strength as your transformation came to a close.  Those boards would be useless in the next two weeks.

And they really, really couldn’t have you escaping.

Even though you were changing, their love for you was still as strong as ever.

It was too bad you didn’t feel the same anymore.

“Here, (Y/N).” You looked away from the random spot on the bricked wall of your prison and glanced at the wooden spoon coming up to your lips, “It’s beef stew, one of your favorites.”  Eijirou reminded sweetly, staring at you with dreamy eyes.

You blinked owlishly at the wooden spoon, eyes tracing ever so slowly to his hand.

You narrowed in on a prominent vein, licking your lips as saliva began to coat your mouth.

You wondered if his blood tasted good.  A voice in the back of your head eagerly told you yes, of course his blood taste good!  

A voice further back in your head cried out for you to not do it, but it was merely a whisper that you chose to ignore.

Take a bite.

You gulped, opening your mouth as Eijirou obliviously raised the spoon to your mouth with a happy smile. Were you actually going to eat for once?  He really hoped you would, you hadn’t eaten in a few days and he was starting to get worried.

Take a bite.

Enjoy your fill. 

You leaned forward to the spoon, the scent of the beef stew wafting to your nose.

God, it reeked.  It really fucking reeked.

The hand holding the spoon, however...

That smell was divine.

In all the weeks that you’d been stuck in your prison with only your hopelessness to keep you company, you finally felt something.

You felt ravenous.

You’d never smelled something as good as whatever Eijirou smelled like right now.  No words could explain how good he smelled.  You felt drunk just from the scent.

How would you feel from the taste?

Deciding to argue with yourself no longer, you launched forward with a newfound strength that surprised both you and Eijirou as he let out a startled yelp and fell to the ground on his back.  His eyes were wide with oblivious confusion.

That changed when you took a vicious bite into his hand, blood dripping into your mouth poorly from the sorry location that you’d chosen, but you didn’t appear to care.  Your mind had gone completely blank once you got a taste of that first drop.

Eijirou was fighting you now, struggling to hold you down and get his hand away from your teeth as you growled, clearly frustrated from the lack of blood.

“KATSUKI! Shit!” The half-dragon cursed when he felt you clamp down harder.  He could get you off with ease but that would mean hurting you and he couldn’t do that.  Not even when you were trying to drink his blood.

The young king came pounding into the room, cursing aloud at the scene he’d came to and quickly bringing you to a chokehold.

Now you couldn’t free yourself, hurt yourself or bite anyone else.

You continued to struggle however, growling and salivating with animalistic fury. 

Katsuki glanced up at Eijirou, “Your hand alright?”

Eijirou waved his good hand, “Yeah, it fine, nothing a healing potion can’t fix.”

Katsuki shook his head, “No... it’s not fine. I should’ve paid closer attention to her symptoms and realized that she wouldn’t want human food anymore.” He gripped you tighter as you kicked out, “She didn’t eat for 5 days, fucks sake!”

They stayed silent for a moment, thinking as you continued to struggle in Katsuki’s grip.

“She’s definitely stronger than before.” Katsuki thought aloud, “Strong enough to break the windows and escape, for sure.” He added.

Kirishima hummed at that before sighing deeply, “I’ll go grab a prisoner from the nearby prison. No one will bat an eye if one of them goes missing.” And with that, he left the room.

You lurched again and Katsuki readjusted his hold on you. You seemed to be calming down and he took the moment to breathe in your scent and take in your warmth. 

He hadn’t held you in so long.

“Your fever’s went down, too. No wonder you’re so energetic today.” He chuckled, “Though, I’m surprised you’re this strong when you haven’t eaten for almost a week.”

You blinked the blood-craze away, eyes growing blank, “I wish you guys had let me crawl off that damned cliff.”

“Don’t say that kind of stuff, dumbass.”

“Please, Katsuki... let me go before Eijirou comes back. There won’t even be a big mess for you guys to clea-”

“I already told you it’s not happening, (Y/N). Drop it.”

“… That’s fine. I’ll get out of here one day. You guys can’t watch me forever.”

There was no response. Katsuki only held you tighter.

After about an hour, Eijirou returned, wiping his hands off, “Alright, her new room is ready and so is her late dinner.”

You were carried down a series of stairs and introduced to your new cage.

It was a big square room with a king sized bed decorated with various fur blankets, a small, caged fire place, and various items like books to keep you occupied.

But that wasn’t what you were really paying attention too.

In a far corner of the room, shivering and whimpering, was a chained man. He had rope in his mouth, keeping him from being able to say anything. Though, it was obvious he didn’t want to be in the room.

You didn’t care about that though. There was a small cut on the man’s arm, the smallest bit of precious blood leaking out onto his bruised skin.

How could blood smell so good?

When you were human, blood smelled metallic and it stung your nostrils.

Now that you were turning… there was something indescribably addicting about the smell of blood.

Katsuki let you go and everything went black after that.

You awoke feeling painfully rejuvenated and alone in your new cell.

How could you just kill that man?

How could your two dearest friends allow you to kill him?

Sure, he was a prisoner but he was paying the price the right way by spending his days in a cell.

How were you possibly going to continue living like this?

Tears trailed down your face and you sobbed into your bed.

Death would’ve been so much better than this.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around you from both sides.

“You okay?” Katsuki asked, red eyes softly taking in your features.

You pushed them both away, climbing off the bed, “I don't want to talk." I want to die.

You couldn't see them, but Katsuki and Eijirou looked at each other. Something they'd grown to do ever since you'd first been brought home.

"We know it's hard (Y/N), but we can still go out on adventures. We'll just have to go at night!" He explained simply, "And there's no need to worry about food either. The prison will always be filled with people."

Katsuki made a sound of agreement, "It's not like your killing innocent villagers. Those bastards in the prison deserve it."

You hugged yourself tight, staring into the fireplace with angry longing.

Oh how you wished to be reduced to ash and bone.

Taglist: @maggiecc

[demonslayedher]

I've seen some interesting AUs where Ubuyashiki and Muzan have switched roles (the former is now the demon king while the latter is the head of the demon slayer corps, how different do you think would demonkind and the demon slayer corps be under their respective leaderships?

I feel like I've seen a lot of good takes on this, especially in ones where Muzan is the good guy but still treats his staff just as poorly, and I feel like my take isn't necessary to add. But I'll think as I go!

--I do find it really funny if the stress of trying to eliminate the demons, a very noble cause which is difficult to achieve, makes Muzan prone to expressing disappointment and lashing out. It would add a whole new touch of gravity to the Demon Slayer Corp.

--Not that I think Muzan would kill anybody due to his frustration. The point is to stop all the slaughter of humans, he will stay his hand if it's the last thing he does. He's popping veins trying to keep himself under control, though.

--As all the takes I recall seeing also have the demons as Demon Slayers and the humans as demons, I'm going to keep this one with only a swap in Muzan & Kagaya. Everyone else remains the same.

--Kagaya is delightfully nonchalant about his evil. The demons are his besties, and this is what they have to do master the sun, it's for everyone's good! And the fact that the Demon Slayer Corp keeps killing his demons makes him very upset.

--Going back in their histories, the doctor died before finishing treating Kagaya because oops, Kagaya was in a blind rage of hunger and ate him. He couldn't help himself on the first people, and made his first demon as a companion, but then felt bad when that demon couldn't go in the the sunlight either, and so he made it his mission to try to find a way to heal demons of the sunlight affliction... but for that, he'd need more demons!

--He changes people into demons out of compassion. Tamayo wanted to live longer? Ok, as a former sick person he understands that! Kokushibo didn't his sword forms to die with him? Ok, fixable! Hakuji was a sad, sad human with nothing to live for? Ok, let's give him purpose!

--Muzan, on the others hand, ha-a-a-t-e-s being sick and takes it personally. He feels personally slighted by Kagaya for having a long life like he stole it from him and all his ancestors. Oh, and being upset that Kagaya's demons are killing humans? Yeah, I guess, if that's reason enough for Muzan's strong fighters to serve loyally in the Corp then he'll respect that.

--Muzan with his family: Amane is loyal and smart, he likes her. The children generally please him well enough. Kind of disgusting how frail they all are as family, though.

--Muzan & Rengoku: Kyojuro has been raised with generations and generations of family respect for the Ubuyashikis, so he's sympathetic to Muzan's struggles and outbursts. He's also careful to please his master, for he knows his father is in bad graces, as Muzan has once lashed out about understanding the frustration but not accepting that as reason to retire (if Muzan is stuck with this mission, Shinjuro is too). Muzan was tempted to call for Shinjuro's execution but Amane dissuaded him on account to the damage it would do in relations with the Rengoku clan. Muzan finds Kyojuro an acceptably obedient and useful Pillar.

--Muzan & Uzui: Uzui feels more drawn to the noble cause of the Corp than to Muzan personally, but with his history, he's good at adapting to a demanding master. He understands the reasons for Muzan's strictness as coming from a good place, so he bites his lip and accepts Muzan as a master. Muzan finds Uzui super annoying but has no real problem with him.

--Muzan & Shinobu: He gets along with her and finds her viciousness behind the smiles amusing. They spend a lot of time together with Shinobu trying to find whatever way she can to to extend Muzan's life. Shinobu has deep respect for Muzan.

--Muzan & Mitsuri: He finds her super annoying but ugh, if he's willing to serve the cause for whatever asinine reason, he'll allow it. Mitsuri is kind of very afraid of him but determined to do her best to please him.

--Muzan & Muichiro: Bringing him in was Amane's idea, Muzan didn't see any point in bringing in children, and when Yuichiro first no, his only response to Amane's report was 'ok.' But Amane kept going, and then brought back a half-dead kid, and Muzan was like, '...really?' abd then when Muichiro stepped into his abilities and Amane is just, silently gesturing at Muichiro, Muzan, as a rarity, admits he was wrong. He then takes a liking to Muichiro for his abilities. He likes that he's quiet. He likes him less once he's less quiet. Muichiro's bond is more with Amane than Muzan, whom he doesn't have strong feelings about one way or another.

--Muzan & Giyuu: Giyuu is a dependable Water Pillar who doesn't cause drama, and Muzan likes it that way. Tanjiro is totally on his own for recognizing that Giyuu needs outreach, because Muzan sure isn't sending him. Giyuu has a normal Pillar level of respect for Muzan and his noble efforts.

--Muzan & Himejima: Muzan did get him out of jail because he looked useful, and Himejima simply accepted the new mission he was given in life. Muzan, if anything, impacted Himejima by encouraging him to embrace that darkness of betrayal and hatred for all the horror demons cause, and so we get goth!Himejima in this version instead of monk!Himejima and I now I kinda need this.

--Muzan & Sanemi: When Sanemi started back-talking at the Pillar meeting, Muzan lashed out at him and scared him to his core, it wasn't a matter of simple violence like his father or the demons he had faced, but he touched a sore spot about Muzan's illness and how it prevents him from being able to do more. Sanemi has respect for that and lives him shame for having said those words and he's always extremely careful not to cause offense to Muzan thereafter. Muzan therefore finds him easy to work with. When Nezuko needed to be stabbed indoors, Sanemi did ask and wait for permission, and Muzan granted it.

--Muzan & Tanjiro: Tanjiro has respect for what he's trying to do, but doesn't have respect for how Muzan goes about running the Corp and in a way that makes people fear him. He calls Muzan out about that after the whole Nezuko-on-display thing, and Muzan doesn't like him but makes it clear in front of all the Pillars that his very, very, very good reasons for letting Tanjiro & Nezuko live are because they have encountered Kagaya and might be useful in exposing Kagaya so they can finally kill him. This is reason enough for the Pillars and Tanjiro has more of an uphill battle in befriending the Pillars because of it.

--Kagaya & Tamayo & Yoriichi: Tamayo is very, very weak to the sound of Kagaya's voice, so much so that she could never speak against him, like expressing her deep rage for how being a demon made her kill her husband and children. When Yoriichi meets Kagaya, he's not affected by Kagaya's voice and sees through how Kagaya doesn't actually value human life if it means accomplishing his goals for the demons. Kagaya admits some sacrifices must be made, they fight (which has never posed any threat to Kagaya, and he's stepped in to defend his demons many, many times), but this is the first time Kagaya has been brought down a peg. He sees he's about to die, but for the sake of accomplishing his goal to perfect the demons, he pulls the old flesh!explosion maneuver and gets away. This finally leaves Tamayo able to open her mouth and scream all her rage at him.

--Kagaya & Kokushibo: Kokushibo finds Kagaya's personal concern for him awkward. A master needn't concern themselves with the wellbeing of a samurai. Still, Kagaya compliments his committed to his swordsmanship, and later names the Twelve Moon in Kokushibo's honor. Kokushibo's is crying from all six eyeballs.

--Kagaya & Douma: They get along like buddies. Kagaya is flattered that Douma wishes to make him the god of his cult. Douma is immune to the effects of Kagaya's voice, but it's not necessary for keeping someone like Douma in line. Still, Douma knows he's in trouble when Kagaya gently chastises him for a lack of results and admits he's been too soft on the demons he has the highest hopes for.

--Kagaya & Akaza: AKAZA IS FIERCELY PROTECTIVE OF THIS MAN, GRRRRR and so emotional and weak at the slightest reprimand

--Kagaya & Nakime: He praises her for good work and Nakime is super, super, super weak to his voice. He blushes all the way to her fingertips and finds it difficult to keep controlling her blood technique.

--Kagaya & Hantengu: Instead of "fear", the character on Hantengu's tongue is "adoration." As Kagaya has wound up giving him more confidence over the years, this ironically makes Hantengu a weaker demon.

--Kagaya & Gyokko: Gyokko looooooves it when Kagaya compliments his pots. He spends too much time making art for Kagaya and not enough time looking for the Blue Spider Lily, which Kagaya must chastise him for. That tends to bounce right off Gyokko, though, he's just so excited that Kagaya is talking to him.

--Kagaya & Daki & Gyutaro: He's like the papa they never knew they needed and they are fiercely loyal to him. Like all the demons, he seems them as his children. He expresses sympathy for their tricky line of work among so many humans and admires their fortitude.

--Kagaya & Kaigaku: Kaigaku is totally overtaken with desire to serve this demon as soon as he meets him and is welcomed by him and recognized for his strength.

--Kagaya & Lower Moons: He is nice and they love him.

In the end: Kagaya was honestly surprised Tamayo hated him so much. After all, she never said anything about it to him and he's not been able to read her thoughts all this time. It also makes him really sad as each of his demons fall, so it is with a heavy heart that he must pick up the task of eliminating the demon slayers himself, once and for all. It's a desperate battle, and in asking Kamado Tanjiro to accept his wish, Tanjiro is dangerously sympathetic to that wish and almost chooses to remain a demon until the ghosts of his family and fellow Corp members kick him out instead of gently helping him rise.

Muzan was close to death but not at all willing to sacrifice his own life. It was through pure desire to live that he pulls through through Kagaya perishes, thereby finally breaking his curse. It takes him a long, long time, but he eventually recovers and enjoys his riches.

Retirement salaries? Psssh, why? The swordsmen got what they wanted, demons are gone. The Corp's disbanded, he owes them nothing. Amane disapproves but oh well, alls well that ends well, kind of.

[events-in-the-velvet-room]

Author Guessing Post!

So for our first annual New Years Community Prompts, we had 6 lovely contributors!

NextTrickAnvils ( @nexttrickanvils )

Ravenoftheskyes ( @ravenoftheskyes )

Oceantoast ( @ocean--toast )

marshie_marshmallow ( @purplespacefairy )

shadow_reader (I don't know your tumblr, please send an ask or DM me so I can add you if you want)

a_salty_alto ( @yusuke-of-valla ) (aka me)

They contributed 11 wonderful works!

All I Want For Christmas is Yu

Nanako wants nothing more than to see her big bro come home for Christmas. But unfortunately, that’s not happening.

But maybe the magic of Christmas can help…?

Countdown

Happy New Years from Toshiro and Takuto!

Cracks in the Stained Glass

Yusuke finds himself in Ueno, staring at that genuinely bright portrait being subjected to the harsh artificial brightness of the spotlight. It feels so hollow here, surrounded by other works of art and gawked at from afar rather than being the quiet fireplace it had been in LeBlanc. Yusuke wonders how long it had been there without him thinking anything more of it than the pedestrians stopping and passingly mentioning its beauty before moving on.

How easily he had fallen into the same blind contentment as Eve. Allowing Maruki to guide his thoughts as far back as October, easing him into the idea that he could be happy being so divorced from the art that inspired his career path like this

glory and gore

The Metaverse is amazing. She can move just as well as- no, even better than Kasumi. Feats that no human could ever actually pull off are possible in this world. She has power running through her veins and she can do anything.

And it’s the one thing that Kasumi doesn’t have.

A Leg Up

The Metaverse starts taking a toll on Ryuji’s leg.

make me feel something

Toshiro meets a strange man at a bar

Oh Captain, My Captain

Toshiro gets bullied into confessing his love for Eri by a 19 year old boy he met two minutes ago.

Operation: First Date

Yosuke wants to ask Labrys out on a date, there were just a couple hurdles for him to get through.

Really bad day in Mementos

A day where things go very, very poorly for the Phantom Thieves.

Prompt:

Characters getting afflicted with some of the weirder SMT status conditions such as Vamp, High, Drunk, Guilt, puppet, etc.

Red Alert!

Rise finally hits the button.

Self (in Approximation to Others)

All she’s ever wanted is to be loved the way that Kasumi has been. The way that’s been afforded to her for just existing in a way that Sumire was never good enough for. Not even good enough, just never enough to deserve.

“I know I don’t say it enough but that’s one of the reasons that I love you, Sumire.”

Her red bangs fall in front of her face and her glasses clang on the tile when she lowers her chin. Her jaw tightens and her hands ball into fists. She thinks she hears Akechi but she can’t understand a thing that he says. “Shut up.”

If you still want to have some fun, you can guess in the comments and tags of this post who contributed what!

Ground rules:

No guessing on the fics themselves, because it'll be awkward if you're wrong.

Be polite! If you don't have anything nice to say, you don't have to say anything at all!

If you can, comment on the fics themselves! They turned out great!

If you don't want to comment, share this post so others can see everyone's hard work

Authors will be revealed next week, so let's start off the year with some fun! Good luck!

[doggyboyf]

WARNING: extremely long poorly written post ! dbd skin/character concepts ive been thinking about tonight/i just want to see bc some of these are based on these being easy ideas and others being impractical that i just wanna see Nemesis: this is brought on by my 1. dislike of his blighted skin and 2. realization of what a missed opportunity it is to not give him a Mr. X skin, its literally perfect they're both tyrants with almost the exact same build, only issue is X's gloves :/ i don't see a way to make nemmie's visible infection rate work or his tentacle make sense so i admit that's an issue, but... maybe his late game look could work better? sadly that does get rid his iconic look i'd actually want for the skin tho hgvbhjbvhb 2nd concept i have for nemmie is impractical and would possibly better as a skin for a non RE killer but i'd just love to see it and that's a RE1 tyrant skin, i just love the original tyrant design Wesker: imo an impractical skin i just want to see wld be his re5 final boss design, he just looks fucked up and i love it hvbhjhbhjhb Misc: 4: i only have one full idea and that's the plaga knights for knight, it just works really well hbhjhbghjhb 7: i absolutely love the idea of a re7 eveline skin for sadako/onryo but that's licensed on licensed so yknow, not gonna work hgvhjhgvhb, a lucas baker skin for legion would actually be so cool but they already have hunk, his build fits perfect for frank tho WAHHHHh i want that rlly bad now hes so yucky i love him hvhjhgbhb, marguerite baker while itd a be a stretch would be a really fucking cool skin for plague, her lantern would fit perfectly for plague's weapon and she could spit out bugs instead of vomit (i know that like, isnt something that go through the effort to do, i just think it's really cool hgvhjhgbh) and lastly jack baker would work really well for trapper, he honestly just fits perfectly ^^ 8: another licensed on licensed skin that wouldn't work but i love the idea of, donna beneviento/her doll angie for chucky, it'd genuinely work so well, just like in the game shed be in the background while angie takes front stage as chucky doing the killing, donna only actually appearing when picking up a surv just like charles ghost does for chucky, another legion skin idea,, (i love legion jhbhjhb) the dimitrescu daughters i think would really work well as skins for them but im also thinking theyd work for nurse! i feel like consider lady d's popularity shed be a skin people would want but i genuinely just don't see anyone she'd work for? plus her height makes things,, difficult jhbhjhbgh, i do have an idea for moreau! i think blight would work perfectly! lastly mother miranda... she'd have to be a skin for plague i think, but i could see nurse working too, i prefer plague tho hvbhjhbhb Pig: honestly i think she wouldnt be that hard to modify but that's probably just my lack of game design understanding, i think these concepts fall more into a "i just want to see these" mindset but i rlly think they're reasonable, i think a john kramer skin would be rlly good, already got his cloack basically modeled bvbhjhgbvhb, i also think in the same vein a hoffman skin would be rlly cool but i think thatd require a whole remodel Survivor concepts: Saw: i would've liked to see ppl like adam and lawrence or daniel (i love him but he rlly isnt important enough hghh) RE: 1: barry :3 i just love barry <3 4: ashley <3 she deserves to be in the game as a skin at least imo 5: excella gionne, shes an antagonist tho so i dunno, josh stone! i like josh a lot and i'd love if he were there 7/8: ethan winters! i really would love to see ethan in the game, i am a huge mia fan so i gotta say i would be so fucking happy with a re7 mia survivor with like a re8 look skin but i 100% want her base design to be re7, lastly just a skin of chris's re8 look :3

[ghostfaey]

La sparizione - chapter eight

Summary: Plagued by the ghosts of her past, Riona has hidden away for centuries. That is until the call for help of a certain seer finds her and begs her to save her brother. Not knowing how her life will change, she finds her way to Volterra, directly in front of the leaders of the Volturi.

Trigger Warning: Violence, SA, blood, Death of Children, Murder, just some nasty things

<<<chapter seven chapter nine>>>

"So, what was it that you wanted to talk to us about, cara?", Aro asks as he takes a seat on his throne. If vampires could be tired then I would almost think he needs a good nights sleep. His brothers antics must be rather exhausting to him. 

"As I said, I want to give all three of you a chance.", I start speaking, letting my eyes wander between the three kings. 

"But I can only do that if you are willing to give me a chance too. I do understand that you have duties but keeping me locked up in a room so I have to wait until you finish your work is no way of handling this."

My voice must sound quiet harsh because I can see Marcus grimace at me mentioning how they have been treating me. I put a soft smile on to let them, and espcially him, know that it am not angry anymore.

"You are right, cara. We have been treating you poorly.", Aro says. "We were not prepared for your arrival. Not that we aren't happy to finally have you with us, afterall we have been waiting for you since decades. But it was very sudden and our schedule is thight. We are trying our best mia cara."

I shake my head as I take a few steps towards them. Do they really think it wasn't a sudden change for me too? I left my home thinking I would be back in a couple of days. Now I'm supposed to be staying here, with them, forever.

The thought alone scares me to death. 

"Aro, you three are not alone in this. This is a big change for me too.", I try to explain. "I never planned on getting close to anyone, let alone share a bond. It is sudden and it scares me quiet a bit. But I would like to try."

A feeling of warmth takes over me, like the rays of a sun. 

My eyes leave Aro to look at the imortals next to him and I see both of them wearing a soft smile. Marcus especially seems touched at my words. He truly does have a tender and sensitive soul. I can tell that all he has said and done until know has been to make me feel at peace. And it did work, I must say. I am glad that my words do have a positive effect on him. I never wanted to make him feel bad with my actions, not just because of our bond but also because he does deserve happiness. 

"You, my dear, are truly magnificent.", Aro whispers and so makes me turn my attention back to him. He is gazing at me with pure adoration and if only I would still have blood running through my veins then I could feel the warmth in my cheeks. 

Again I can see the twitch in his fingers as he wishes to touch me. But I know he will not do so as long as I do not give him permisson. 

I do not think that he yearns to touch me to see my thoughs. There is a whole other reason. I am sure he does feel the same as I do. The tingle that I feel in my fingers, the strange pull towards him and his brothers. I yearn to be close to them. To feel their ice cold skin, to run my hands through their silky hair, to engulf myself in their scent.

But not yet. Just not yet.

"I only wish for us to not perish in agony."

As I sit in the library I take in the smell of the ancient books surrounding me and the sweetness of the blood which stands in a wine glass on the table next to me. Aro has made sure the one of the guards would get me a whole carafe so I could still my thirst that had only been growing stronger. The burning in my throat is now way more bearable, though it is still there. That is the thing about being immortal. The thirst never fully goes away. 

In my hands I hold an old book, containing the history of Voltera. Of course it is written in italian and understanding those old texts is rather difficult but one can try. Some words I've read or heard before so I can make out what is written.

The kings and I have come to an agreement. I give them a fair chance. All of them. 

Therefor I will spend an equal ammount of time with each one of them, getting to know them and trying to also let them get to know me. It will be hard to actually let someone into my life, letting them learn about me. 

For now I decided to let them get done with their paperwork, not wanting to distract them in order for them to get things done. I know what kind of effect I have on them, they have the same effect on me afterall.

I take my eyes of the book and look up, over to the giant standing in the corner of the room. Felix is trying to vanish in the shadow to give me the privacy I so desperately wish for. 

This castle has eyes and ears on every corner and it is irritating.

But it isn't his fault. I know the kings have given him the duty to protect me from every danger that may lie in this castle. Not that I needed it but it makes them feel more comfortable.

Felix eyes are advertet, not daring to look me in the eyes when he for sure has noticed my gaze on him.

I sight and close the book, placing it on the table next to me. I take the glass and swirl the blood in it as if it was the finest wine one could buy with money. 

"Felix.", I call out. His head snaps up and his eyes meet mine for only a second before he looks at the ground again.

"Yes, my lady?", he asks, looking like a kicked puppy as he does so. A smile spreads on my face.

"Don't stand there and act like you are a statue. Come over here and have a seat."

Felix shakes his head. "This would be rather inapropriate, I am on duty afterall.", he explains. I furrow my eyebrows at him, sighting. 

"Your duty is it to protect me and I am pretty sure you can do this over here aswell.", I speak. He still doesn't look up at me seemingly unsure on how to act in the current situation.

"What if I order you to take a seat?", I ask now, quirking my right brow. It takes a moment for him to answer. His mouth opens and he looks at me directly now. 

"Apologize my boldness, my lady, but I don't think I have to obey your orders.", he speaks carefully. 

He is right. He is serving his masters, the kings. Me being bonded to them doesn't change anything about that. His loyality doesn't apply to me. But I could play a little game if I wanted to.

"True, although I'm sure your masters would be not very pleased if they find out you denied me my wish. Or am I wrong, Felix?" Oh how interesting, now hs getting sweaty. Or at least he would if he could. 

A smirk displays itself on his face. "You're making this very difficult for me, my lady."

"Truly sorry about that, Felix. But I do not like being watched like an animal in a zoo. So take a seat so I at least can pretend we're two old collegues just having a nice talk.", I apologize although I do not really feel any kind of remorse. Surely the kings won't punish him for this.

Almost painfully slow he takes a seat on the far end of the couch, as far away from me as possible. He does not seem to happy about the situation he is in.

"So, forgive my curiosity but I must ask: What brings you here, to the Volturi? Is it the thrill of being their executioner? The power?"

His ruby eyes shot up to me, a smirk on his lips.

"Oh yes the power truly is enticing. But that is not it. Not entirely at least.", he speaks. I quirk my brows, wanting to know more. 

"Safety, my lady. You cannot deny that staying with the Volturi isn't somewhat a way of securing oneself a spot in all eternity."

"Ah yes, eternity. The addicting sweet taste of an everlasting life.", I sight. "Some people would say it gets boring. Maybe it does, if you're alone that is."

Felix watches me curiously. Daring enough to gaze upon me.

"But you are not alone. Or not anymore that is.", he speaks after a while of watching me carefuly. I chuckle and look at him, our eyes meeting and for a second I thought he would look away but he stays unwavering. 

"I learned to enjoy being lonesome.", I explain. "Being around others always ends up hurting someone. I tried to spend my eternity with other people but in the end something always happened. So I decided a very long time ago to stay by myself."

Felix eyebrows furrow. His eyes leave mine and fixade something in the far distance.

"So, does it scare you? Having to suddenly be surrounded by so many others?"

He is asking the question I have been thinking about since hours. It is a strange feeling, being surrounded by so many people, mortals just as immortals. But does it scare me? I'm not sure.

"It isn't others that scare me. It's what could happen. That is what truly scares me.", I answer and it feels like the right thing to say.

The gentle giant turns himself to me, his body moving forward only slightly. 

"What is it that could happen, my lady?" His eyes glimmer with curiousity.

I force myself to smile as to not give away how sad this topic truly sorrowful this makes me feel.

"Heartbreak."

[dragonflavoredcake]

This thread made me have thoughts

It got long so here have a mini essay under the cut

I think that the Gravity Falls fandom as a whole has a problem with idolizing Dipper and Stan while demonizing Mabel and Ford. But why?

With Dipper, the main cause of this is that at the end of the day, Gravity Falls is his story. He narrates the start and end of the series. He's the one who sets the tone. (If you want to know how the tone would change if Mabel was the main character, compare the Mabel's Guide to Life shorts to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained.) Stan gets this same main character privilege in A Tale of Two Stans because he's the narrator of that story. Ford is only the bad guy then because Stan is narrating. If Ford was narrating, Stan would be the bad guy.

As many, many people have pointed out, both sets of Pines twins are foils. Dipper foils Mabel and Ford foils Stan. In the same vein, Ford parallels Dipper while Stan parallels Mabel.

Mabel and Ford don't get this privilege. I don't think they'd get the hate they do if they were in the same narrative roles of their brothers. Just as an example of this effect in action, I've heard a bunch of hate for Mabel being selfish in The Time Traveler's Pig for wanting to choose Waddles over Dipper's hopeless crush, but I've never heard a word about Dipper being selfish for trying to force Mabel into giving up Waddles so he could get with Wendy.

Mabel and Stan adore their brothers. They're the more fun-loving, emotionally intelligent, go-with-the-flow siblings who counterbalance Dipper and Ford's academic intelligence and their neurotic and obsessive tendencies. But they also both have a fear of abandonment. Being suddenly separated from someone you love is deeply upsetting. Mabel yells at Dipper and bursts into tears when she confronts him about the apprenticeship offer before running off (and may I add that this is after she already had a terrible day); Stan has his initial panic outside the principal's office and later rages at nothing before accidentally breaking Ford's perpetual motion machine. They're reacting out of that fear of abandonment, because from their standpoint, Dipper and Ford are going where they cannot follow.

More than that, because a lot of people seem to forget this, they both backtrack. Stan tries to apologize to Ford and begs him to talk some sense into Filbrick before Ford chooses to be complacent in Stan getting kicked out of the house. (Which he's rightfully angry about.) Right after escaping Mabel Land, Mabel apologizes to Dipper for how she reacted to the apprenticeship and encourages him to take it if that's what he wants. Dipper is the one who decides to turn it down.

The issue is not that Mabel or Stan want to stop Dipper or Ford from achieving their true potential. Mabel and Stan would move heaven and earth for their brothers. Stan spent decades rebuilding the portal. Mabel was willing to make a poorly defined deal with who she thought was Blendin for just one more summer day with Dipper, after their fight about the apprenticeship. The issue is that Stan and Mabel have very specific fears that were triggered by their circumstances.

Going to college is normal. Getting a new job or taking an apprenticeship is normal. Change is normal. But change is also really, really scary. Stan and Mabel had it sprung on them in a way that triggered their personal fears, so they reacted poorly. Dipper and Ford both struggle with insecurity and hate their plans going awry—Dipper doesn't have time to react to Mabel's confrontation before she runs away and Weirdmageddon starts, but we do see him and all of his clones freaking out under smaller pressures, like not being able to follow his homemade procedural to spend time with Wendy in Double Dipper. Ford screams at Stan after the science fair because to him, his future just fell apart before his eyes. People do not act rationally when they're angry or scared.

Basically, Dipper and Mabel vs the Future and A Tale of Two Stans were both a big party of deep-seated fears getting triggered at the worst times and every decision having the worst possible consequences. Nobody was entirely wrong and nobody was entirely right. Ford is no more guilty than Stan. Mabel is no more guilty than Dipper. (And I love seeing "nobody's wrong but nobody's blameless" situations in media.)

it's still insane to me that one of the big plot points in this show is that ford wanted to go to college without stan. and then they made ford look bad for it

[messwriting]

Written for the Whorehouse Compilation [RAW DOG 1080p] (Try Not To CUM) Collab:  Masterlist.

Open wide: the Doctor is IN

Shirabu Keijiro x Female Reader 

Doctor Shirabu gives you a very special treatment on your first appointment.

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: I’m sorry for being this late to the party. The cursed porn search we all have looked at least once (some... lots of times hehehe). THANKS TO @dymphnasprose​ for the little porn search bar i love them so much ;-; <3 My (very) late contribution to the Whorehouse Server CUMpilation. Thanks for letting me participate Miki! Doctor Shirabu is ready to see you now. 

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT.  CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT.  DOCTOR/PATIENT. MEDICAL PLAY. INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHES. WRONG GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM. Breast exam but not really. Corruption Kink.  MEDICAL KINK. Use of medical equipment in inappropriate ways. ANAL PLAY. Established relationship clarified at the end: role-play. Poorly researched medical stuff. Overuse of Good Girl. 

Word count: ~4.4k 

You’re such a cute little thing.

Sitting on top of the big, pristine examination table, waiting for him while wearing an easy summer dress, square heels dangling from one side to the other as your hands fumble with your own fingers on your lap, eyes flying to him immediately as he enters the close space - big, bright eyes shining in the dull white hospital room, framed by beautiful eyelashes and soft makeup. Your tempting lips are almost deployed of lipstick from as much your teeth have punished the plush flesh.

“Hello.” Shirabu greets you with an easy smile, one that he doesn’t really use despite the little effort it takes.

“Oh, hi Doctor.” There’s an anxious smile on your lips and Shirabu feels a tingle start on his fingertips, climb his arm, spread down his back to burn in his guts. You’re so pretty when you’re nervous.

“How are we today? You can come and sit by the chair first.” Shirabu moves calmly, closing the door behind him; carefully turning the key without bringing attention. He’s still testing the waters but he can gather that you’re a trusting one, waiting to hear from him what exactly you need to do and then do it. 

“Ahhh, um… I’m good, just came for my annual checkup.” You say while taking a seat on the chairs, only risking one look up at his face, then lowering those eyes onto his coat, clearly reading his name. Your expression seems surprised… but pleased. Is it because he’s young or because he’s attractive? Shirabu can’t decide, but there’s a clear smile in his lips as he looks you over, then circles his way to sit behind the table.

“Is this your first time here? If not, when was your last appointment?” 

“Actually,” Your eyes meet his when your head angles up and you scurry them down as if you’re embarrassed. Your lips are once again suffering under your teeth before you free them and speak, “It’s my first. Like, ever.”

“Oh,” Shirabu let’s slip with a breath. There’s too much joy in that little sigh and in his tone when he asks, “Really?”

Your head goes up and down first, fingers fumbling, then you seem to remember that you need to speak with him, “Yes.”

“Do you have a medical file here already? Any complaints I should know?” Shirabu covers the usual bases first, calmly checking his agenda and time, how much he can have with you and how he can extend it.

“Hm… No complaints, except…” You fall silent for a moment and Shirabu can feel the burning in your face all the way through the table. 

“It’s okay.” He’s quick to tranquilize you, “I’m your Doctor, you can tell me anything.”

“I think my birth-control is… uh, how can I say this? Making me… a little numb?” You tell him in a low voice, a hint of worry slipping through as you try to send him a little embarrassed smile as if you’re worried he may feel bad about it. 

Shirabu is quick to smile back, so pleased at how you relax and melt back into yourself at the sight of it. He can’t help but think you’re such a good girl. “You didn’t answer the first question, though.”

 “It’s my first time in the clinic as well. A friend of mine recommended it to me.” You give a precious little giggle as if your nervousness scrambles your train of thought and Shirabu thinks it’s endearing, especially the fact that you’re a pretty little thing who doesn’t know best and you’ve ended right on his lap. 

Well, he plans to make the most of it.

“Hmm, understood. So, Miss… Is it Miss?” Shirabu sends you a charming smile, one he knows it’s good, and your eyes seem to flash with something at the sight of it, your throat bobbing right before your lips split in a little smile.

“Yes,” you giggle his way with a little roll of your eyes, as if it’s obvious and he makes a surprised face along with another dazzling smile. Shirabu has smiled more in the last ten minutes than n his whole week and he’s face will soon protest.

“Really? You’re so pretty, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already planted a ring on your finger.” God knows he would, and as fast as he could, too. 

You bite at your lips to avoid a smile planting itself in your face, eyes fleeing from his as your hands fist your dress and you left a little breathy laugh out. As if he’s being ridiculous. 

“Okay Miss, so since it’s your first time doing this check-up, I’ll need you to do a few things for me, okay?”

“Sure, Doctor.” God, that shouldn’t mess him up as it does, the hairs on his arm standing on edge at the delicious sound of it in your voice.

“I’ll need you to go to that bathroom right there, strip all your clothes including underwear and change into the paper gown that’s right on top of a cabinet there. Leave the opening to the front and then come back to sit at that examination table right there. Can you do this for me?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Warmth spreads from his body, rolls thick with his blood around his limbs and starts concentrating south. Jesus, you’ll be his demise like this.

“Good. Now go.”

Once you’re out of sight, Shirabu makes arrangements. And when you come back, clad in nothing but a paper-thin gown that leaves little to the imagination, he buttons his coat as long as it goes. Just to be sure.

His eyes thread carefully over your barely concealed body, enthralled by how your breathing comes in quick puffs of air, goosebumps rising on your skin under the cold temperature of the room. Pressing against the warmth of his palm at the slight touch of his fingers on your shoulder. 

“You can sit at the examination table. We’ll start with a breast exam before you lie down, okay?” Shirabu knows his voice is sweeter than usual; carefully built in a trusty tone, words rolling off his mouth a little deeper, a little low - all just so he can assure he has your attention. 

 “I’ll start with a breast exam and then you can lie down.” He explains his steps one by one, so when he opens the front of the barely existing paper gown, all you do is take a sharp breath and slowly let the air out. So nice. Such a good girl for him.

He carefully brings his fingers to glide over the outskirts of your breasts, pressing on your flesh with steady, slow to warm digits. Shirabu feels as you fidget slowly when he circles the flesh once, slow and deliberate with the pressure he applies. “I’m checking for any unusual lumps around the tissue,” Shirabu tells that so close to your face he can feel the warm wave of air your gasp lets out at his words, and he pretends the little taste does nothing for him despite the way his blood boils in his veins. 

He does the same circular motion a second time, then a third time in reverse, and all but grin in his self-satisfied way when he notices the shy nub stand to attention. Your brows are furrowed even from such little stimulation, throat bobbing as your mouth sucks cold puffs of breaths inside your lungs. 

Shirabu’s digits slide up your collarbone, then press together in a quick motion from all the way up to under your breast, stealing just the slight touch over your erected nipple. 

“Please put your hand over my shoulder,” Shirabu says carefully, detached; and is delighted when you push a little dazed “what” out your swollen lips. 

He can’t help but smirk; poor little lamb is lost to the wolf around her - and his claws are already in. 

“Like this, honey.” His hand takes yours in his, open your palm with his fingers to press it on his shoulder, a wide-angle that gives him better access and provides for a comfortable examination. 

“Hm, okay!” You strangle it out, cute and bashful and Shirabu feels his slacks getting tighter.

“Good,” he breathes close to your face and restarts his movements, digits massaging up and down your chest, right side first as his fingertips get together to start to draw patterns from outside until the center in a repeated motion that ends with just a barely-there, butterfly touch over your nipples as he does a careful glide around the circle.

Your shoulders tremble and curve inwards as your abdomen seizes, hints of your pleasure that Shirabu can pinpoint even without his medical expertise. It makes his heart soars; such a little innocent thing that you can’t even speak up about it, just quietly suffering from the need growing inside you until you’ll burst.

His hand stops under your breast to weigh it, palm covering the extension of flesh as his thumb slides in a fond motion to the sides. 

“Now I’ll do the left,” Shirabu announces and feels as you tense, eyes looking up at him in a lost haze even as you blink and nod. There’s a small storm brewing inside your eyes clouding them over, as if you’re struggling to catch up to his fingers, trying to fully wrap around his motions and still falling victim of your innocence, agreeable and placid, trained and directed to respect authority. 

Dr. Shirabu knows best, you’re probably thinking as you nod once again, hands grabbing at anything they can to hide their trembling. Then he starts his ministrations by rolling your nipple with his thumb, drawing a gasp from you.

 “Oh, sorry,” Shirabu says with fake sorrow before he starts the circling massage around your breasts once again. 

A humming agreement is all you answer him, lips pressed together as if you’re embarrassed by the noise you’ve left. Oh, poor little thing. 

He can’t wait to ruin you.

Shirabu wonders if you can notice how he changes the motions of his fingers this time around, pressing closer to the center and around the halo of your breast as he kneads the delicious mound with his digits. 

Your knees are practically pressed together and you’re struggling to hold your shoulders up in a straight line and Shirabu is absolutely delighted at causing your downfall with such little, fickle things as the point of his fingers.

He waits for the moment where your teeth close sharply over your swollen lips, holding both breath and noise inside, and angles both his hands to press under your breasts, upwards motion that is a good excuse for groping - not that you’d know. Your spine curves as your head turn down in waves of burning hot embarrassment at your own behavior and Shirabu simply has to move before he does something bad.

Well, worst.

 “All done,” he tells you with a small curve on his lips as he steps back. You wait for him to turn before letting a breath out, but even that sounds sharp in the silence of the room. Shirabu hides his hands from your eyes in his pockets, fingers twitching in the absence of your smooth skin under his digits.

“Now we’ll pass to the examination.” The little tremble in your frame is enough to add twisting fire into his veins, temperature rising even when the air conditioning is running low. Shirabu does his best in making his voice sound unaffected and neutral, walking over to the stirrups and adjacent dressing table where he keeps his medical gloves.

“You can lie down and put your legs over the supports.” 

“Yes, Doctor.”

You obey like a good girl, the simple motion already flashing him the precious skin underneath, legs spread wide open and immobilized. Anxious eyes look for his in reassurance, then seem to think better of it as they fall down to watch your open legs. The view making you squirm once again in the padded table. 

So precious.

And trusting.

Your hands are clasped over your belly in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting, eyes eagerly fleeting between Shirabu’s frame and the ceiling. He sends a smile your way as he pulls the chair close to the stirrups and your disconcert is practically charming. 

When Shirabu walks over to sit between your open legs, his cock strains against his slacks, immoral coil twisted hard at the small peak of heavenly skin, of glistening folds swollen by the blood flow.

If only he could lick it.

There’s a tremble to your form that he can’t pinpoint, but the wide-open arch of your legs immobile over the stirrups clear are involved in; that, and the pulsating arousal in your center, if the way you’re throbbing open for him is any indication. 

Shirabu had considered going slow, threading carefully before taking what he wants, but the fortitude of his mind is being challenged by the view alone: You, laying on the table, legs spread and skin glowing. It’s wicked. Shirabu wishes so much to taste, but he’s snapping his gloves on instead. 

 “Are you sexually active?” He makes small talk, chair sounding loud in the silent room as he finally takes his place on it.

“I’m, uh, not for a while.”

“Any unprotected intercourse?”

“Hm... N-no.” Huh. Shirabu doubts he was able to hide the motion in his lips signaling that the little slip in your tone isn’t lost. “Are you certain? We may need to do a test, just to be sure.”

Your eyes fleet to him, shining in the artificial illumination, flustered expression as you down them for your clasped hands after. It’s rather endearing to watch as your anxious behavior spike, the way you’re unable to twist or move, pinned there by physical barrier more than just his eyes.

“It’s possible.” You answer him, meek, and he tries not to smile. “But I’ve been on the pill.”

“Ok, then. You mentioned numbness. Did you mean during intercourse or just in general?”

“Sometimes general, but normally when I’m… touching… myself.”

Oh well. What a nice little improvement. His eyes bore on yours between the valley of your legs, the air surrounding you both turning thicker. 

“Understood. I’m going to be touching you now.”

You nod, and then gasp when his hands actually touch the inside of your open thighs, a light caress to satiate the need to know how soft and plush you feel, and it’s exactly as much as you look. You suck in a breath slowly, and Shirabu lets his fingers slide up to your hot center.

“I’ll start with the pelvic exam. If you feel any pain or discomfort, just say so.” You nod and he starts slowly, two gloved fingers carefully threading over the swollen labia with acute precision, circling motions as he caresses the underside of your most sensitive place and downwards, rounds the dripping wet entrance, and sliding back up, fingers opening in a “v” motion, a small twirl around the engorged nub above it all. “I’m making an exterior exam, any numbness?”

You nod your negative. Eyes barely holding themselves open, teeth sunk on your lips. “Tell me if you either don’t feel anything or feel anything hurting.”

“Okay,” it’s mostly a whine, breath leaving your mouth as soon as you open it. He descends a third finger over your sex, up and down circling motions that rip a groan from your throat.

“Does anything hurt?” Shirabu’s voice is collected, calm, a stark contrast to the throbbing length in his pants. “Numb?”

“I...don’t think so?” You’re trembling, voice breathless as the stirrups squeaking under the strain of your thighs and Shirabu’s other hand comes up, palm planting over your pelvis, feeling the soft skin and then pressing his palm on it.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with sensibility.” He tries to reassure you as his fingers thread to your entrance, indicator slowly tracing the tight circle pulsating in front of his eyes. You’re dripping wet, soaking his gloves and all he can think is what a delicious little patient.

“I’ll be entering you now, okay? There’s no need for the speculum, so I’m performing a touch exam.” 

“Oh-kay, doctor,” comes your little gruff voice, putty under his hands and opening up nicely for his fingers when he presses inside. You’re tight, wonderfully so, clinging to his gloved fingers. Shirabu angles them up and deep, your blistering warmth spreading from his digits to his arm and then his whole body. 

He’ll have to find a way to “test” you there, as well.  He doesn’t retreat his fingers, but he aims the motions of them inside and above, looking for the sensitive place that’s bound to make you-

“Ah!” 

There it is. Shirabu chuckles and rounds the place with his digits as your knees buckle inside then angling out, spreading wide. He retreats his fingers, rolling them with a little scissoring, then plunges deeper inside as an excuse of trying to reach your cervix. If only he could use his cock- that’d be way easier.

“And now?” Shirabu asks, wicked. “Any pain? Numbness?”

“N-uhnn-” You try to speak but choke on a soft moan, your hands flying to your face as you swallow and answer him back in a trembling tone, “No.”

“Anything else?” It’s teasing, clearly, but you don’t seem to notice it, dazed eyes searching for him as you wet your mouth before speaking.

“It feels… weird.”

“Really? ” Shirabu spreads his fingers a bit, rolls them to feel around your walls. “Why’s that?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s… good.”

“Hmmm… That’s interesting.” His gloved thumb descends over your labia, rolls over your clitoris with strict precision, fingers angling inside to meticulously hit that special place once again. The table squeaks under the strength of your buckling, open cunt pulsating around his fingers in plain view for his appreciative eyes. “You seem to be a bit oversensitive, not numb.”

“Is that- a problem?” You say between breaths as Shirabu’s thumb rolls over your clit. He’s astonished you don’t question any of his debatable moves, only looking at him with dazed, soft eyes. 

“Depends. Do you always leak like this? It can be a condition.” Shirabu presses his palm over your pelvic bone, angle his fingers meticulously and swirl your clitoris with his thumb in firm precision. You moan and immediately recoil in embarrassment, mouth agape in your own surprise. Shirabu scissors his fingers in a rotating motion, inside and out for barely a few seconds and your spine arches off the table, mouth falling in a wide “o” as you tremble on his examination table.

Delicious.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer in a breath.

Shirabu palms his length to release the pressure, cock straining at the soft expression of rapture on your eyes. “Everything seems good inside; But maybe you’re sensitive. I’ll keep that in mind for the next exams.”

“Is it… done?”

“Almost.” Shirabu smiles, but it's a be-ready-for-trouble one. “All we need is the ultrasound for the internal exam.”

“I thought you had just-”

“This one was the touch one, the next one is done with the ultrasound equipment. It will be inserted inside and then I’ll be able to take a good look at your uterus health.”

“Oh, okay.”

You seem focused on catching your breath as your stretched hole keeps winking at him, as if begging for more. Unfortunately, Shirabu has to move on. He pulls the equipment table close, moves the screen to the side and at a fairly inaccessible angle for your eyes. The transducer reminds a wand, long, shaped anatomically thin with a slightly larger head, barely two-fingers girth. 

“Have you ever orgasmed before? Sensitive dysfunction can make it harder for women to achieve sexual gratification.”

“I… actually don’t know…”

Shirabu slides a condom on it, drops a generous amount of lube over it and then turns to you with a smile. Your legs twitch and your walls clench and he has a strike of brilliance right there as he eyes the pretty furl of muscle under your pleading pussy.

You yelp as he brings a lubed finger to draw rings over your rear, embarrassed eyes quickly searching for his.

“Doctor?!”

“Oh, sorry. The equipment goes in anally. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No?!” You groan, surprised, a soft breath escaping your lips.

“Sorry. I’m just preparing you, passing something to help it.” Shirabu explains, as a liar, and slowly work you open with his indicator pressing inside - carefully, slowly, with clinical precision until his whole knuckle is inside and your breathing is labored, open pussy throbbing for something he can’t give it to you just yet. How precious. “I’m inserting it now. Please tell me if it hurts.”

Shirabu angles the device on the lubed hole and watches, enthralled, as your ass swallows it’s wider head whole with just the first push, the rest of the body following easily as the tight ring presses the overflowing lube out. Fuck. Shirabu’s cock is weeping uncontrollably inside his slacks and he carefully brings a hand to help with the tightness of his pants, opening it enough to allow his thick length to escape free, but still covered by his lab coat.

Then Shirabu presses the device deeper, the angle sharp. He brings the receptor over your belly, presses way to closer to the apex of your sex. “Does it hurts?”

“No,” you breathe out, dazed.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes,” you sigh.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Shirabu retreats it, pretending to angle it somewhere else. He moves the equipment a bit more and your knees tremble as your pussy starts to drip on the floor. Jesus, that’s fucking hot. He leaves the receptor over your skin to fly his hand to his cock, slowly pumping it to relieve the throbbing ache. You’re way too lost in your own pleasure to notice his, and that only makes him more feral.

“You can feel something entering you now, but it’s just another equipment,” Shirabu says as he abandons his aching cock to slide two fingers inside your pleading hole, instead. He’s not even sure you understood his warning. Cute. 

“Doctor,” you breathe, almost panicked and Shirabu rolls his thumb over your clit to hear you yelp, your ass tight around the transductor as he scissors his fingers on your wide-open cunt.

“Yes?” 

“I feel... “ You sound so wrecked and lost, a shiver wandering down Shirabu’s spine as his throat bobs. Your pussy throbs around his fingers, begging for something it can’t even pinpoint. Poor thing.

“Pain?” 

“No? Something… else.” Such a cute breathless voice, chest heaving with rabbit-fast beats that Shirabu almost can feel on his fingers deep inside your soaking walls. 

“Pleasure?” He offers, fighting the need to smile at how your confused expression, brows furrowed as you try to think of another word but come ultimately short.

“I…” You start but bite your lips to hold the noise at how he aims at your special spot. Then blink twice, still losing the fight against the thick pleasure fog in your mind. “I guess?”

“Wow.” You’re so honest. Shirabu’s surprise is fairly genuine. He hopes his tone sounds more understanding than completely hungry. “Well… It’s not unusual for patients to feel arousal by exams considering their invasive nature. It’s okay, don’t panic.”

“But,” You start, tense and writhing, but Shirabu stands up, the equipment in your ass changing angle but his eyes are finding yours in the distance. 

“It’s okay,” Shirabu repeats and you listen, hazed eyes focused entirely on him. “Take a deep breath.” 

You obey so well, mouth opening as you breathe deep, chest filling even when Shirabu slowly edges the equipment out of your tight asshole. The fingers inside your pussy don’t stop, though, and he brings his other hand, now free, to aid him in wrecking you. “Now surrender to it. Let it wash over you…” 

“I…” You whine and tense, but then his two hands are gliding over every erogenous zone on your labia with acute expertise, and you let go, bones essentially melting under his ministrations; letting out a soft, obedient, won over, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He tells you and rotates his fingers in and out, keeping you nice, wet and wide. You’re close. Shirabu can feel it in how you’re swelling around him. “You’re an amazing patient, Miss. Just do as I say and I’m telling you to cum.” That does it, as your head angles back, hands holding yourself and the table as you take a deep breath.

“Yes, doctor,” You whisper and moan, surrendering to the intense orgasm that pulses suddenly through you and quivers around his fingers. It’s beautiful to watch you come undone, legs trembling sharply as they’re held wide open, pussy fluttering in a wave of wetness that joins the puddle on the ground, mouth open as your tongue slides past it, eyes rolling inside your skull and probably seeing white. 

Shirabu never feels tired of it, finally angling himself to bend over your frame, mouth looking for yours quickly as he breaks character.

“Keijiro,” you sigh, pleasure-drunk and Shirabu licks over your open lips, bites on your jaw, sucks the skin to leave his marks. 

“Yes, love.” He answers against your pulse point and you lets out a satisfied sigh by his ear.

“That was amazing.”

“You think so?” Shirabu rolls his hips against your bare, soaked wet pussy, and his free cock rolls deliciously between the lubricated folds. “I’m just starting, though, Miss. I think you’ll need a more thorough exam, though. With special equipment too.” He brings his hand to angle his cock on your entrance, eyes locked on yours as you blink and smile, blissed out and pleading. Shirabu presses himself inside and you throw your head back in bliss, hands planting on his shoulders with sharp nails aiming for his skin. “Such a good patient I have. Open wide, love.” 

You arch your head back to look up at him, mouth falling open on command, for Shirabu to do as he pleases. You, wide open on his table, for him to do as he pleases. He’s your husband after all and you’ve learned from a long time that what pleases Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro the most is picking you apart piece by piece, white bliss searing your every nerve-end as you fall and shatter for him, drowning under his thumb as he holds you down waves of pleasure, dragging you like the tide - strong and unyielding until it hurts to even breathe. 

The mere thought of having more makes your lips fall open in a moan, “yes, Doctor.” 

Because you love everything about that. 

[venusiangguk]

hand-picked | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / famous!jk x sex worker!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, teaser, drabble

>>word count: 2.8k

>>warnings: glory hole au!!!, cocky jk, bad boy jk, stripper oc, sex work, sexual tension, awkward tension, hand job, blowjob, cumshot, cum on tits, pay for play, semi-anonymous sex, dirty talk, dishonesty...  that’s it i think zzz

>>notes: if u don’t like sex workers ur ugly and i hate u 😌 also ty to @wheresmymoniat​ for betaing n helping me out, ily <3 *repost bc tag issues don’t mind me 🙄*

>>summary: glory holes weren’t a real thing... at least until you’re on your knees for a stranger, cock in your face, with nothing but a curtain between you.

Despite your nerves, you grasp the semi-hard cock in front of you, attached to a nameless person behind the curtain. For a moment you wonder what the hell you’re doing, but the soft sigh that you hear brings you back to the present. You stroke up and down, watching as he starts to become fully aroused. The foreskin rolls over the pink tip on every upstroke. You bite your lip. The silence is awkward, but you think maybe the whole situation is.

 “So... what do you do? Like… not specifically of course, but are you an idol? An actor? You can be vague…” 

 Behind the curtain, Jeongguk, whom you don’t know the identity of, stiffens just a bit. Will his voice give him away? Maybe, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to boast about himself and his achievements.

 “I’ve done it all,” His voice is airy, softer than he would like, but your hand on his cock is speeding up, and so is his breathing. “I’m good at all of it too.”

 You hum at the man’s response. Cocky. “Isn’t saying you’re good at a lot of things just another way of saying you’re not good enough at one thing? So you have to compensate by spreading yourself thin?” You gasp a small giggle when you feel the cock in your hand jump a little at your words. “Did you like that? It wasn’t meant to be degrading, but if that’s what you’re into-“

 “It’s not- that.” He doesn’t know if he’s denying your psychoanalyzation, or your keen interpretation of the way his cock reacted to your psychoanalyzation but one was more inaccurate than the other. He actually was great at most everything he did, no need to overcompensate like you assumed. 

 Your small hand tightens, and you rub your thumb at the underside of the head, you let out a small pleased noise when you see a bead of precum well at the tip. “Really? You’re starting to leak a little.”

 You sound amused and humorous and if Jeongguk had it in him he would be annoyed or even upset at the way you’re talking to him. You were basically hired help, a means to an end. He glances down his torso at his hard cock in your tiny, well-kept manicured hands. Your nails are a dark red, burgundy color. It complements your skin well, he thinks. He can’t see much of you, just your forearms, along with the bottom part of your tummy and your legs. You’re sitting on your knees between his spread out thighs, feet tucked under you. From the tight black leggings you’re wearing and the slim-fit long sleeve white crop top you have on, Jeongguk can tell you have a good figure. Your waist is tapered in, tiny and cinched, and your hips are wide enough to accentuate it, letting him know you’ve got a petite hourglass frame. You aren’t too skinny though, there’s a softness to your body that he likes. It’s not like he needed the tight fitting clothes to know what your body looked like, though. He’s already seen more of it than he is right now. His mind flashes to the club.

 You may be hired help, but you were hand-picked by him. 

 “It’s just-“ He contemplates what to tell you and settles for, “It’s been a while.”

 “Since?” You push. You hear footsteps outside and you hand stops, scared for some reason that you’ll get caught doing something bad. As if the door wasn’t locked and being guarded. Behind the black curtain, his hips lift just barely, urging you to keep going. Don’t stop.

 “Since someone’s helped me.” Jeongguk’s head rolls back when your hand starts moving again. It’s been at least a few months since he’s gotten off with someone, his hand being his only companion. After the situation blew up even more than it had in months prior, his leash was tight. No wiggle room at all. He was suffocating and desperate. He almost cried when his team propositioned this arrangement, embarrassing as it was.

 When he speaks, his voice is soft and everything is said with a sigh. He sounds so relieved, like it feels so good to be in your palm, like he’s been waiting for your hand on his cock forever. You blush, and right your thoughts. You don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. Still, you ask, “Does it feel good, do you like it?” Tone soft to match his.

 Jeongguk nods and swallows thickly. Eyes still closed, letting the pleasure slowly work its way through his veins. Then he remembers you can’t see him. “Yeah.” He breathes.

 You hum and keep up your ministrations. Not slow, but not fast either. You’re not quite sure what he likes yet, but the soft moans that flutter through the curtain at least let you know what you’re doing isn’t wrong. 

 “I like your hands,” He surprises you by saying. “They’re so small; soft,” A more vocal sound falls from his lips when you twist your hand on the upstroke. He’s chuckling when he says, “Kinda strokes my ego a little bit.”

 You glance at the cock in your hand. It’s pretty. Thick and pink. A pleasant kind of heavy in your hand. The veins running over it are subtle enough to not be ugly or intimidating. The only intimidating thing about it is the size. He’s big. And you’re sure he already knows that. 

 You snort. “I don’t think you need that stroked.”

 This makes him laugh a little harder. It’s a nice sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He hums, you think you can hear a smile in his voice. It’s quiet again for just a moment before he says, “Will you- faster? Make your hand a little tighter too- yeah, like that.”

 His hips sink into the chair when you comply with his requests before he’s bringing them back up, subtly thrusting into your palm. You fight back a moan; you shouldn’t be getting hot for someone you don’t even know right? This was strictly business. Still, you can’t help the slight shifting you do, squeezing your legs together for a little bit of pressure on your pussy.

 Jeongguk notices. “Are you turned on?”

 “No!” You squeak.

 “You can touch yourself,” He offers.

 “No!” You insist, “I-I’m fine.Thank you though.” You say dumbly.

 He doesn’t say anything more, focuses on your hand on him, tugging just how he asked. His hand rubs over his stomach, flexing as he teases himself, his own light touches mixed with your strokes brings goosebumps over his skin. “Feels, so good.” He groans, eyes watching your hand under the curtain.

 Encouraged, you bring your other hand up and massage lightly at his balls. They’re hairless, the only hair he has is the small trimmed patch above the base of his cock. He’s well kept and has good hygiene. That alone was attractive to you, stranger or not.

 When you palm his balls, his legs spread as far as they can with his black cargo pants still around his calves, his big black stomper boots keeping them from being shed all the way. “Fuck,” He moans deep and loud for you. One of his hands comes down past the curtain and reaches for you before he quickly pulls it back. You think you saw a flash of ink on it, but you can’t be too sure, mind kind of fuzzy with poorly hidden arousal. The opposite hand comes into view, and your mouth parts in awe as he covers your own hand with his. It’s so much bigger than yours, completely enveloping it as he strokes himself off, using you in a way. Then again the whole arrangement was you both using each other. 

 “You’re mouth- put your mouth on it,” He sighs, pleasure just dripping from his lips. His cock is rock hard in both your hands, and you can tell he’s getting close.

 You hesitate. “Will… will you be able to see me?”

 Jeongguk comes out of his desire induced high a little bit and realizes what he said. He wants it, fuck does he want your mouth, but he probably should have asked. “No, no. I’ll lower the curtain a bit more if you want, and you don’t have to swallow. You don’t even have to suck it if you don’t want- like I know we have a thing going on but I would never like- force you I-“

 He’s rambling a tad so you cut him off. “I want to, I think,” You whisper, taking in his intimidating size again, “I just- if I can’t know who you are, you can’t know who I am.” You blush feeling a little childish.

 Jeongguk keeps the fact that he already knows what you look like and more or less who you are, at least on a surface level, to himself as he moves the curtain to the next lower notch, the bar resting just above his pelvis now. He can’t really see much of you at all anymore. “That’s fair, yeah, just-“ With your confirmation that you do in fact want to suck him off, he can’t keep the lustful neediness out of his voice, “Please.”

 You take a deep breath as you wrap both of your hands around his cock, the tip still poking out the top. Tentatively you lick at his frenulum and the sound that comes from behind the curtain is obscene. His hips twitch and everything. You want to hear his noises, all of them, so you do it again. You flick your tongue fast over the most sensitive underpart of the head, before placing wet sucking kisses to the same area, almost making out with the tip of his cock.

 “Oh my god-“ His body is pulled taut, and his hands are gripping the chair that he’s sitting in. “Fuck that’s- I love that.” He says, head dropping back, mouth open in a silent moan. 

 You moan against the tip of his cock, not able to hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your lips around it, you take the head all the way into your wet, hot mouth, and suck. You lap up all the precum that leaked out, and point your tongue to play with the slit. The man behind the curtain is loud for you, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel. You get so lost in it that you don’t register him raising the curtain bar just enough for him to slip his hand past and push you off.

 “S-sorry,” He says, panting, “I was about to cum.”

 You make a small sound of confusion. “That’s okay, I can swallow- If you want me to.”

 Jeongguk shakes his head behind the curtain. “No, I- I wanna watch… see your hands stroke me off.” His request is quiet but his cock pulses in your hand, needy and hot. Already begging for release, despite you not being at it for that long.

 Wordlessly, you start stroking again, gathering the spit that’s on his tip to make the slide easier. It doesn’t take much time at all before his thighs are flexing and you can see the lower part of his abs tensing. 

 “Close,” He whispers.

 Jeongguk watches as your tiny hands fly up and down his cock, grip tight just like he showed you. He’s doing his best to not fuck up into your hands, wanting to just rely on you and your movements, but it’s hard. Small eager little thrusts of his hips show you how ruined he is. And it’s just a handjob. He knows. If he was present enough he would probably be embarrassed by how angry and red his cock is, swollen and hot in your palm. And he’s just so wet, leaking all over the place making the strokes of your hand loud in the room. 

 He watches as you hunch over some, to where he can see everything below your neck, and your free hand comes up to your shirt. He sees you struggle a little bit as do your best to get the collar down under your bra, with only one hand before squeezing at your tits. “Do you want to cum on them?” You whisper.

 “Fuck, please.” He whines high pitch and needy, all reservations out the window. 

 You hum, and work your arm faster over his cock, the rapid movements making your tits jiggle. “Do it, cum for me… cum all over my tits.”

 You can’t see him, but Jeongguk’s face is lewd. Pleasure so apparent on his features, it almost looks painful. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are wet and glassy, so overwhelmed by finally getting help after so long of cumming by himself. He’s chanting soft, pornographic yeah’s and yes’s until his whole body curls in on itself, you can see the way his legs tremble as he moans, “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

 He forces himself to keep his eyes somewhat open, lidded and heavy with arousal, as he shoots all over your chest. You’re moaning with him behind the curtain as you work him through his orgasm, despite no physical pleasure being given to you, and that makes another small shot of cum dribble from his spent cock. You lean forward, careful of your identity, and wipe the leftover milky substance on your already soiled skin and black bra. You slap the slowly softening cock on them for good measure and Jeongguk groans.

 You keep playing with his cock, not sure if he’s the type to like it or the kind that wants you off right after he finishes, but he winces and reaches his hand under after not too long, stopping you.

 “Please,” He whines.

 His voice is fucked out, and your pussy aches, needy and wet in your panties. “Oh, sorry…”

 He laughs lightly. “No, no. Don’t say sorry… You’re like- so good.” Jeongguk sighs to himself out of your view. He’s leaning back in the chair, while running a hand through his sweaty hair. Little tremors of pleasure are still coursing through him, when he closes his eyes, blissed out, dazed and relaxed. Finally, after months of being pent up. “So, so good.” He murmurs softly, distractedly. 

 His hand that reached under the bar to grab yours to stop you, is lazily rubbing over the back of your hand, hold light and subconscious against his thigh. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it and you blush, shyly pulling your hand away. He doesn’t show any sign of even noticing and you both settle into a soft quiet, only your breaths sounding in the room.

 “Um.” You say eloquently.

 “Fuck sorry.” Jeongguk says, scooting the chair back to put his now soft cock away. He rolls his eyes to himself. Way to get stuck in the afterglow by himself with his flaccid cock in some girls face. “Let me get you a towel.”

 “Should I put the blindfold back on?” You ask.

 “Uh- Yeah.” He says stilted. This is weird. You just made him cum so hard he almost knocked out, and now he’s making you cover your eyes so you don’t figure out who he is. 

 You hear the hesitation in the man’s voice and assure him that it’s okay, while grabbing the blindfold you tucked into the waistband of your leggings. You knew how it went, you signed the papers. Patiently you wait until you hear him coming back and sense a soft moist towel being shoved under the bar. You blindly grab it with a soft, “Thanks.”

 “I’ll go wait in the bathroom so you can- I don’t know…? Get ready to go I guess.” You hear his heavy boots retreat to the bathroom, that’s located on his side of the curtain, assuring that he wouldn’t be seeing you on his way.

 With the blindfold off, you go about cleaning yourself. Your knees crack when you stand up after being sat on them for so long. Wincing, you run a hand through your long hair and walk over to the table where you left your bag. You leave the used rag in its place and you shoulder the purse. About to make your way to the door, you pause.

 “I’m uh- leaving?” You yell unsure.

 “Okay,” He yells back through the door. “Did you- did they- your- did they give you the-“ He stutters, not sure how to ask if you got paid.

 The wad of cash in your purse is heavy. Figuratively and literally. “Yeah, they did.” 

 “Okay… Good. I’ll um see you next time?” He sounds hesitant and shy. 

 You laugh. “Yeah I guess so.” And with that, you make your way out of the hotel, thinking that he sounds a whole lot less entitled and cocky than he did when you first got there.

~~~

hiii guysss! thanks for reading this lil drabble! This is kind of like a teaser for a longer fic i have on the back burner (let me know if you like the concept and want me to continue!) but i wanted to post something because i havent for a few weeks bc i have been soo busy with school pls i want to cry 🥲 i should be doing maths as i post this lmao. ANYWAY! thanks again for reading, if u liked it, pls like, comment, reblog, or even send an ask! love talking to u guys n feedback is always lovely <3

[ncitygirls]

eternal - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, vampire!jaemin, 2.2k

he had yet to utter a word since his confession, and neither had you, though you had tried piecing together a worthy response. he simply watched you as you watched him, your eyes focusing on each delicate ridge in his skin, admiring his nonexistent pores; how the thin slithers of light that broke through the poorly drawn curtain, shone on a bend from the ends of his bangs down and around his chin. a kind reminder of what you swear you have always known, but regret to have never questioned.

“jaemin?”

“my love?”

“have you always been this beautiful?’

he had to admit he was taken back. those are the first words you have said in a long while. they are your first words since he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago - he was counting, not actively, but over time his mind has created room for his thinking to expand, to surpass humanity’s understanding of thought, and most times he welcomes it. but not at times such as these - where he knows he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago, and your first words are in awe of him.

“i told you i am undead.. and that is what troubles you?”

“your beauty is far from troubling,” you retort, eyes still inspecting his face. jaemin’s mind wanders back to when he once pitied humans. how they thought what they saw was really seeing. victims of an already limited life, the human eye is only able to pick up a fraction of their sublime reality. yet the way your eyes traverse each of his features, as if to commit them to memory, he surely found a compelling reason to admit their eyes were not so lacking. “was it the bite that made you so handsome?”

“i wasn’t bitten,” he corrects, as the pads of your thumbs sweep over his cold knuckles, your touch casting a reverence over the scene. he lets out a pretty laugh at your assumption, the soft crease between your brows forming as he destroys your fictional understanding of his kind. “humans have always had a skewed understanding of our lore.”

“so your mother and father were vampires?”

“no.” it has been some time since he has had to explain vampiric lore to a human, but his mind retains his memory of it all the same. “it is not dissimilar to what humans call possession? or a spell? it is a combination of the two.”

“did it hurt?”

jaemin cannot help but melt at the notes of concern lacing your tone. it is his turn to pass his thumb along your knuckles before flipping your hand over, letting his finger trace a swirl in your palm, offering a soft shake of his head. “it makes one feel queasy, a consequence of the change in dietary needs.”

your hand stiffens beneath his touch as your eyes drop to examine them. he fears he has spoken out of turn, pushed the astonishingly pleasant conversation down a dark hole. jaemin once believed humans to be predictable, but you continue to challenge that. “is that why my invites to have you for dinner always go unanswered?”

“i knew that wounded you, angel.”

“it did no such thing!” his chin drops, eyes boring into you in a successful attempt to lure the truth out of you. he immediately softens when you exhale, in defeat of his gaze or distaste at your transparency, he does not know. jaemin would soften all the same. “i will admit, i did make assumptions to make sense of your refusal.”

“did you think i preferred not to visit?” you had never noticed the flecks of red in the perimeter of his irises until now. they glowed slightly, as if enraged, though you know not with you. “there are rules we must follow when entering a new space, silly, unchangable rules.” his frown deepens when you nod, always understanding even when you shouldn’t. “i apologise if I hurt you, angel.”

“hush now, you need not apologise.” you’re proven right when his eyes return to the perfect colour you remember them for: a golden swirl moving within the rich cocoa, shining only as the light hits it. relief floods him when he rests his forehead on your own. he grips your hips firmly, swaying you both as you call for him.

“jaemin, what is it you do eat?”

“pretty girls named y/n.” oh how he wished you would have laughed then, instead of him opening his eyes to find your horror stricken face. “i swear to you that was a joke. that was in poor taste, i am so sorry.” you find his apology hard to believe as his body shakes, shaking your whole frame along with him.

“do not,” you hit his arm once, “mock,” and a second time though ineffective, “me!”

he saves himself quickly, retreating to safety by putting an unrealistic amount of distance between you two in an inexplicable amount of time. when he abandoned you, you nearly collapse forward with the force you were using to hit him before catching yourself.

“come here.”

“i drink blood.” you did not particularly dislike his attempt to stay on topic, just the topic itself. you try to appear enlightened but you have always found it difficult to repress your repulsion. “i know you have no interest in the macabre.”

“blood is meant to be inside you.”

“i think it tastes great.” he quickly arrives in front of you, your open books and abandoned letters fluttering all over the room as his speed garners its own winds. his thumbs journey over the veins on your wrists, slowly trailing up your forearms. he only speaks again when he hooks his thumbs under your jaw, tilting your head to allow his teeth to graze over the column of your neck. “it is reminiscent of fruit. some blood is like grapefruit and lemon. while some are akin to grape, strawberries.”

“oh,” you sigh, heart slowing as his lips drag along the base of your throat. he pulls back, gazing longingly at your wonderment as you feel his mood swing. bitterness seeps into his eyes in how his taste for blood ironically remains the only provision of some kind of memory of flavour, of normality. “do you enjoy it?”

“blood?”

“being a vampire.” no one has ever asked him such a thing. is there anything to enjoy about eternal life? about reliving his youth, being relocated, remade, renewed over and over and over, for an eternity.

as he gazes down at you, he remembers with all the bad must come some good.

“not always,” he smiles knowingly, thinking of his friends. the lives they built for themselves over a combined millennia. it almost makes him retract saying that. “i do regret some things. like allowing haechan to convince us to help real witches free the falsely accused during the witch trials. only to later discover he had a wager on being able to free more than their coven could.” he loved the way your eyes followed along, he loved knowing he could finally share his life in its entirety with you. “i have a thousand reasons why i should hate it, but I cannot bring myself to.”

“why?” he will find a way to forgive himself for giving you a reason to ask. he will ensure you needn’t ask again.

“because,” he whispers into your mouth, his lips slipping between your own, fingers clasped behind your neck. “if i had died in 1625, i would not have had the honour of making your acquaintance.”

“this is hardly an acquaintance,” you remind him, counting his years in your head as he pulls you flush against him utilising less than a speck of his strength. “careful grandsire,” it tumbles from your lips as he licks against your mouth. “i am not sure a man even three hundred years your junior could make it through what you are starting.”

“you needn���t worry about me,’ he sighs, his groin rolling against your own, his fingers clinging to your breakable frame. “though i must confess, my eating pretty girls named y/n was not said solely in jest.” his fingers toy with your knickers, ice cold digits moving freely along the waistband. “in fact, i fear my sanity depends on it. might you be of some aid?”

“who am i to deny a man nearing his fourth century?” he begs himself not to laugh, if only not to kill the mood but more so to avoid dignifying your mockery. his laughter morphs quickly into pants, your hand slotted wickedly between his own and his groin. “how might i be of assistance to you?”

“just as you are,” he whispers, his dulled teeth passing dangerously along the shell of your ear. as a man of his years, patience isn’t something which he is in short supply. but even then, one grows tired of waiting, for coitus, for love, for you. he is quick to remove your hand, finding his own pacing as he presses you against the wall, your heat pulsing beneath his cock, practically leaking. “i forgot how pliant humans are,” it is wicked how he watches you, his fingers rolling your hardened nub betwixt their pads. you shudder at the sight of him, his golden eyes darkening in the sunlit room, his tongue passing over his sharpened teeth. he smirks as you hiss, his fingers pinching your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue rolls in time with his hips, running his clothed cock along your clothed folds. he is quickly reminded of his strength as his palm collects dust as it meets the wall with a thud, steadying himself as you whine deliciously, his name bleeding from your raw lips. “yes, angel?”

“i need you,” you breathe, gazing up at him as his lips capture yours. your tongues move in tandem, wrapping around the other in a hypnotic frisk. he swallows your whimpers as he lures them out of you. he sucks your tongue into his mouth, hands moving to your rear before lifting you from the ground. he makes little work of you, rendering you a quarter of your size. your ankles lock around his waist as he casts your knickers aside, hissing as the pad of his finger meets your folds.

“might i have a taste now?” he pleads, eyes burning a fiery amber, pure adoration hidden beneath. “please, angel?”

“take all of me, jaemin.” he holds you still, a metre from the ground as he kneels, his hands firm around your thighs before he lowers you over his mouth. his flat tongue licks long stripes up your cunt, tongue flicking along your hooded clit in his descent. he likens you to a spring, his soul knelt before you, preparing an offering to your fountain. he is ready to collect all you offer him, your essence pouring out onto his tongue, soaking his lips, slick down his chin. his eyes fall to a close at the sight of your dazed form, your eyes screwed shut in prayer, his lips puckering around the hood of your clit, the tip of his tongue rolling against the nerve. “jaemin, right there, please.”

he hums in accordance, his tongue circling your clit as your thighs shake on either side of his head. he smirks as you still, his middle and ring finger entering your warm cavern, forcing your hips to roll against his digits. he curves them slowly, pressing against your pink walls, bulging up against your stomach. “you are so fragile,” he says, lips bitten as he watches your body succumb to his touch. he leans closer to you, steadying you on his shoulders to free his hand. he presses his palm to your abdomen, hypnotised by the feeling of his own fingers inside you. letting his thumb drift down, he pulls up the skin hiding your clit, allowing his lips to pucker against the nub before he offers a hard suck. his tongue joins the fold, drinking you in as you let out a sharp cry, the pressure inside and out joining forces to send you over the edge. “when you’re ready, love, come.”

he can feel your skin burning up, see the sheen of sweat coating your entire body. “jaemin,” you continue to chase your high, but cling to the moment. you feel like your convulsions might snap your body in two. that pleasure such as this cannot exist innately, that only he can bestow it on you. you are proven right as you grow more frantic, his fingers rub against the spot inside you that he found with great ease, as his lips suck on your clitoris. the final straw is his gaze, you feel it and fall victim to it. his irises a bright, angelic white, the rim speckled in gold. one cast of your eyes on your lover and you snap.

there is no doubting that as jaemin gazes up at you, he sees glory eternal. he sees life. he sees an angel.

“come angel.”

and you do. jaemin’s simple command breaks a dam, summoning a flood of pleasure you are unsure you will survive. hot iron passes through your veins, lighting you from the inside out. he continues without thought, his lips sucking the pleasure out of you, his fingers still pounding into your swollen pussy. only when your fingers find his hair, pulling him away with a sharp tug does he concede, lowering you into his lap.

“hi,” he says after some time, watching you pant against the wall. “are you still with me?” he jests, palms gliding up and down your aching thighs.

you hum, gazing up at the golden orbs that you decide you mustn’t live without. much like his life, and much like your love. eternal. “always.”

[buckyownsmylife]

woman’s world - chris evans smut

The one where Chris pisses you off during a panel, but then finds a way to apologize

Warnings: age gap, famous!reader, oblivious Chris, smut, unprotected sex

Chris’ P.O.V.

The panel had gone well, or as well as it could go when everyone was trying to push the idea of Y/N and I together. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pursue something with her - quite the opposite in fact. I was completely infatuated with the young actress, but the problem was just that: she was young. Too young for me, probably. So it was becoming harder and harder to deal with everyone commenting on how great we would be together when it was already all I could think about, and there was nothing I could do to make it come true without looking like an absolute predator.

Still, there was no denying that my favorite part about this particular press tour had been getting to spend time with her. She was just the perfect company, especially in a situation like this, which frankly could easily become tiresome and irritating. She just had this way of being able to read me and know what I needed, so she’d easily take over when she noticed an interviewer was getting on my nerves or overstepping some boundaries. 

She was quickly becoming my favorite person, but unfortunately, the rest of our cast had noticed as much. And so that meant that for the last day or so, I’d forced myself to pull away from her, deliberately sitting as far away as possible and not even glancing her way whenever there was a camera around. I even managed to have a quick reaction when the panel moderator joked about us being the perfect couple, and I was proud of how my cry of “She’s a kid, for God’s sake!” had made everyone laugh, even my friends who had been keen on insisting I should ask her out. 

So needless to say, I was in a good mood. Such a great mood, in fact, that I’d decided to ask Y/N to come back to my room so we could grab a beer and watch some movies. Asking around for where she had gone, someone pointed in the direction I thought I’d seen her head to, and after a couple of seconds, I managed to see her in the middle of the sea of people. Then it was just a matter of smoothly dodging everyone trying to lure me into pointless conversations and then she was already within ear reach. 

Or so I thought, at least. I tried calling her name countless times, but she didn’t look back once. In fact, she even quickened her step, and soon enough I had to physically run so I could follow her into the elevator that could take us to the floor where we were staying. 

I didn’t think too much of it, considering she probably thought I was someone else and was doing the same as I was: trying to dodge anyone who wanted to make us stay a bit longer on the crowded floor where the convention was taking place. But then we were inside the elevator and she didn’t even turn to look me in the eye. 

More importantly, when I reached out to rub my thumb on her wrist, to signal that I wanted to hold her hand, the response I got was a harsh, “Is this your way of subtly hinting that you want to hold my hand? Because it’s quite cute, but I’m not in the mood for that at all.”

The attitude caught me by surprise in such a way that I was only able to snap out of it once the elevator’s doors opened, but before I could ask what the fuck was going on, she had ran out of it, walking towards her room with determination.

Oh no, she wouldn’t. There was no way I was letting her hide in her room, angry at me, when I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong. I sprung into action, running after her and managing to hold the door just before she was able to slam it in my face.

“What’s going on?” I cried out, pushing my way inside the room as she just stared up at me with hurt eyes and a pout on her lips. “What did I do?” Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms while looking away from me, before I managed to pull her closer by her wrists when I pried her arms open again. “Talk to me, c’mon.”

She glanced at me with furrowed brows, quickly averting her eyes before looking back again with an unamused expression. “You’re really gonna act like you don’t know.” Anxiety coursed through my veins at a scary pace. It was clear that I’d hurt her, but I had no idea how!

“I really don’t know!” I cried out, begging her to answer me, so I could make this better. I couldn’t bear the thought of offending her, of possibly losing her… and her friendship. Since that was all I could get from her, I was gonna fight with everything to keep it. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

For a second, it seemed like she would relent. But when her eyes met mine again, it was clear that whatever she saw on mine reminded her of the reason that she was mad, because just when I started to smile, she caught a second wind, pulling her hands from me and turning her back. 

“I don’t know why you’re so adamant about making me feel better. I thought I was just a kid to you.” And then, suddenly, it made sense. Flashes of what had happened not even an hour earlier played in my head, this time her face being the focus of it all. Perhaps it wasn’t perceptible for everyone else that her smile faltered when I shouted that idiotic thing, but to me it was.

To me it was, and still, back then, I didn’t see it. I chose not to see it, because I was so scared to deal with the truth. Instead, I ended up hurting her. And that was literally the last thing that I wanted. 

“I-I’m sorry,” I immediately offered, raising a hand to scratch the back of my neck. “I just… I didn’t want them to start creating any narratives about us two together, you know? I mean… You know how they can get. And I can’t be… We can’t be... associated… like that.”

I knew I had screwed up even before it became clear that she wouldn’t answer. Despite how cautiously I’d tried to phrase it, it ended up sounding weird even to my own ears. And when she didn’t turn around to look me in the eye again, I didn’t know what else to do. I felt myself deflating, my heart beating desperately against my chest, terrified of losing her simply for being my stupid self.

“C’mon… You know what I mean,” I breathed out, trying to approach her and resting a hand on one of her shoulders, but she simply shook it off. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t be like that.” I made myself flinch with just how poorly I was handling that situation.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what to do or say. Don’t be like what? “Like a child?” I asked, my tone icy enough to layer the tension in the room with one more level of awkwardness, and I didn’t need to see Chris to know that he was a mixture of nervous and confused, at the very least.

I knew it because I was, too. I was completely thrown off by my own behaviour, as weirdly as that sounded. I didn’t know why I was so defensive, except that I did. I did know it, I just didn’t want to admit. 

“Well, this child wants to be left alone. I’ll talk to you later, Chris.” And I stormed off into the bathroom, only stopping to take a breath when I was sure the door was locked behind me. I needed to put some distance between myself and him, otherwise I was gonna lose it - even worse than I already did. 

But it was too late to keep on ignoring my feelings. I was forced to deal with the reality of them, at least with myself, since I knew - especially after today - that there was no way I would ever get to reveal to Chris that I’d fallen for him.

To him, I was just a kid, and that’s all I would forever be.

Weirdly, I didn’t feel like crying as I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, decided to wash away all of the bad feelings that this day had brought me. I just felt… disappointed, like a kid who’s been dreaming about a Christmas present only to find out they’ve been given socks. I’d been hopelessly trying to ignore my feelings for Chris, but at least a small part of me still fed into the ridiculous idea that he could possibly reciprocate those sentiments.

Now that it was obvious it would never be the case, it was like a small part of me had died on that stage.

By the time I got out of the shower, some twenty minutes later, I decided to put on a loose shirt I had kept around from some ex and take a nap until it was time to be social again. Certainly my friends would want to hit the bars or at least grab some dinner, and it would provide me with the perfect occasion to apologize to Chris.

Yes, that was perfect. That would get me a few more hours where I could manage to fabricate some resemblance of control before I had to see him. And then it would all go back to the way it was: me, pretending I don’t have a crush, while he kept seeing me as a kid.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice the massive body hidden beneath the covers in my bed until I went to uncover it so I could slide in.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my bed,” I chastised, but Chris only gave me those annoyingly effective puppy eyes that had me groaning. “No. You don’t get to do this. I’m still mad at you, go to your room and we’ll talk about it later, but for now, just let me wallow in peace.”

But still, he didn’t let up. I tried to climb on the bed, but he was now smack down on the middle of it, still pouting with those perfect full lips of his. 

“Get. out. of. the. Bed.”

“Not until you tell me what I can do for you to forgive me. C’mon, baby girl, just let me make it up to you.” When I didn’t answer, making sure to avoid his eyes, he simply reached out and grabbed me by my hips, forcing me to sit on his lap. “Please?” He quietly begged, one hand cradling my face while the other maintained its grip on my hip. 

The movement had caught me by surprise, and my mouth fell open as I realized that because the shirt had ridden up, I was sat panties glued to Chris’ jeans. And if that wasn’t enough to throw me into a ridiculously horny state, the fact that I could feel just how hard he was certainly did.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be shy,” he pressed, and my eyes snapped up to meet his, finding a hazy lust that reflected mine and a very, very naugthty smirk that didn’t help my current about-to-get messy situation. “Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I took a sharp inhale, thinking about what I was about to say. Could I really do this? Should we even do this? I still wasn’t completely sure about what the hell had happened, but one thing I was certain of, and that was that I really wanted him to, “Kiss me.”

For all the reservation I expected Chris to have about this, he didn’t hesitate a single second before pulling me to meet his lips, and it was everything I thought kissing him would be like. His lips were soft and as patient as he seemed to try to be, there was an undeniable edge of neediness in the way his tongue swiped my bottom lip, begging me for entrance.

“You’re not gonna let me in, honey?” He whispered against my lips, warm breath making me shiver in his arms before I was able to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” I shrugged, but by Chris’ teasing smile, I knew I had just given him exactly what he wanted. In a quick move, he had me sprawled on the bed underneath him, while he hovered over me with dark eyes that I never thought I’d get to see outside of my dreams.

“Let me show you why you’re wrong.”

Chris’ P.O.V.

I started by rubbing the outside of her thighs until she opened her legs enough for me to settle in the space between them. I paid close attention to the way her breath hitched even with the softest of touches, incapable of stopping the grin that made its way into my face.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sensitive, baby.” She whined as I lowered myself to replace my fingers with my lips, slowly making out with the delicate skin of her inner thighs. “You see? This is why I was scared to reveal my feelings for you. It’d be so easy to ruin you.”

By the way she bit on her lower lip, I knew I had reached my goal of making her even more bothered with what I had said, and slowly, I ran my hands up her legs and grabbed her hips to pull her further down, closer to my mouth. I ran my tongue over her lower lip, just barely gathering the excess moisture, and despite how clearly affected she was, Y/N managed to grab my hair and whisper, “I think you’re full of it, Evans.” It made me smirk, but before I could even offer a comeback, she just continued, “But even if you’re right… I’d like nothing more than to be ruined by you and only you.”

A sharp inhale later and a competition of stares, I pounced on her, devouring her little pussy like I’d wish to do so many fucking times before. She was sweet, but her moans were even sweeter, and the combination of sounds and taste and smell only served to intoxicate me, make me even more thrilled about finally having this gorgeous woman underneath me.

As her juices dripped from my jaw on the bed, she kept caressing my head, keeping me closely connected to her like I would ever dream of stepping away from this moment. I wanted to stay right here forever, away from people’s judgements and the overwhelming fear that she would think this was a mistake after it was over.

And right here, as my nose brushed her clit as I plunged my tongue as far as it could go inside her hole, she came right before my eyes, her honey dripping onto my tongue as I came up to toy with her clit before at last parting with her taste.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” I pointed out, stealing her lips with mine so I could share her taste with her, so she’d know I was right. “You’re sweet all over. Shit, I really want to fuck you.” My voice became nothing but a whisper, and soon her hands were cradling my face, thumb playing with my bottom lip before I sucked it. It was true. I craved to feel her from the inside, know what it was like to possess her in that way, too.

“Then fulfill both of our wishes. I really want to be fucked by you.”

Godfuckingdamn. This girl was just perfect. I knew right then, I’d made the right choice by deciding to stick around. When she appeared wearing nothing but that shirt, I forgot all of the reasons that were holding me back from simply taking her, and even now, they didn’t seem all that important anymore.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Your wish is my command.” I heard the words and braced myself to finally feel his cock inside of me, but still, the second that its head managed to fit, a long, drawn-out moan revealed just how impossible it was for me to restrain myself as Chris stretched me open around his member.

“Fuck!” Chris shouted, and it surprised me so much that it made my eyes widen as I stared up at him, hands still holding tightly on his muscular shoulders. “Sorry! Sorry.” He repeated as he bottomed out, forehead resting against mine as he seemed to catch his breath. “I just… I imagined your moans, but hearing them is a completely different thing altogether.”

The sentence had butterflies flying in my stomach and the reality of the situation suddenly hit me. I was lying in bed completely naked with a still fully clothed Chris Evans on top of me, and his cock was filling me in ways I’d never been filled before while he kept releasing these breathy little moans that had my heart skipping a beat every damn time my mind registered them.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who has been dreaming about this,” I settled for whispering in his ear before sucking on his earlobe, and a shiver passed through his body, making me giggle.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me quickly before deciding to do it again. “But I’m even more glad that this is actually happening right now.” What could I add to this? I didn’t think there were any combination of words possible. So I resigned myself to feel it, memorize every single thing about this moment when Chris started to pull out only to push back in again. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered, and in that moment, I’d let him do anything to me, just as long as he kept fucking me like this.

His thrusts felt like waves washing over the shore, bringing the tide of desire higher and higher and I could feel it reaching the point where it all changed, the point where my life would turn upside down because I would know what it felt like to cum around Chris’ cock, and the anticipation was enough to have me writhing on the unmade sheets of the hotel bed.

“Shit,” Chris chuckled, and I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a soft look on his. “You’re unbelievable, sweetheart.” I could see the desire in his darkened pupils. I was sure it mirrored my own. “So beautiful, and you take my cock so well.”

Hearing him talk dirty was everything I’d always wished for, and I could feel myself getting even wetter around him, whines and whimpers escaping my chest as I held him closer to me.

“Fuck, I really wanna buy you a collar with my name on it. Make sure everyone knows I own you now.” The words, paired with the warmth of his breath had me clenching around him, and I fucking melted when I heard him meanly chuckle at my state - the state that he had caused me. “You want it too, huh?”

I really, really did. I’d never been one for external marks of possession, but something about this, about Chris and I, really had me going crazy for his proposal. Maybe because a part of me thought he would never want to admit this had ever happened. I thought he would try to deny it, and so to hear him wishing to boast about it… It really had me going crazy under him.

“Say it.” His voice cut through the haze, making me realize I was actually about to cum again. It took me a while to understand what it wanted, just enough to have him ordering again, in a tone of voice that made every single part of me tingle, “Say you want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

“I do. I want everyone to know I’m yours and only yours, Christopher.” I don’t know if it was the desperation in my tone, my use of his full name or the fact that I came again, but that finally had him losing the control of his movements, quickly pulling out of me and jerking himself off until his cum was painted all over my stomach.

For a second, it was only our labored breaths in the bedroom, staring at each other like we couldn’t believe this had really happened. “Still think I’m a kid?” I had to laugh, biting my lower lip while trying not to show that I actually was really nervous about his reaction now that we were done. But his eyes softened, a quick kiss deposited on my lips before he cradled me in his arms, cum and all, and answered, “You’ll always be my little girl. I just want to do some very adult stuff to you.”

[ladyartemesia]

The Challenge

◐ PART II of The Alpha ◐

◐ PART I ◐ SERIES MASTERLIST ◐

Pairing: Alpha Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: (for this chapter) Mature (rating will go up)

Warnings: mentions of ritual combat, sexually suggestive language, ABO sexual dynamics, discussion of marking, mating, and claiming

Word Count: 1100

You fell to your knees, uttering the one word that would complete the ritual and seal both your fates.

“Alpha.”

Then all hell broke loose. Noise and movement erupted on every side.

“Oh my goddess, Yoonji is gonna be so pissed she missed this!” Min Yoongi whooped loudly from across the circle.

Your forehead furrowed in confusion as chaos escalated around you. The blindfold was still in place as you were technically not permitted to remove it till the ceremony was officially dismissed.

What is happening? What’s wrong?

Suddenly the chief elder charged into the fray, waving his hands wildly like a spastic pixie.

“My brothers and sisters we must - er - strive to consider this unexpected turn of events as-“

“What have you done?!”

You recognized that voice - your mother - hissing frantically in your ear. She must have breached the circle to get to you.

A hand (probably your mother again) wrapped around your elbow, yanking you roughly to your feet and you yelped in pain-

“STOP!”

The person manhandling you froze immediately. Silence crashed down like a hammer.

“...Take your hands off my mate.”

The words were spoken softly this time, but there was no mistaking the weight of an alpha command. The grip on your arm fell away without hesitation.

Unease began to churn heavily in the pit of your stomach.

You didn’t recognize his voice.

You had no idea who your mate was.

Jimin could feel his heart pounding violently in his chest.

The first moments after your scent invaded his senses had been euphoric... but reality pierced his lust-addled haze when your mother began dragging you away from him. And when you cried out-

He reacted on instinct alone.

Jimin could count on one hand the number of times he used an alpha command, but seeing you in distress had pulled it from him effortlessly.

The weight of several hundred stares poured over him in the oppressive soundlessness that followed his outburst.

Then-

“Luna rex provocatione.”

The words cut confidently through the air - each syllable dripping with strength and authority - much like the man who spoke them.

Kim Namjoon had issued a formal challenge.

“Well... That was a flaming disaster.”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, Taehyung. Your grasp of the obvious remains unparalleled.”

The chief elder hauled Jimin and his family into the council chamber immediately after Namjoon’s challenge. Taehyung had simply followed along because he was nosy.

“So what happens now?” His hand ran absently through his hair as he addressed the pack’s interim leader. “What does the challenge mean?”

“You’d know if you hadn’t skipped Alpha Camp every year,” Taehyung interjected.

Jimin just barely resisted the urge to strangle him.

Alpha Camp was an annual training session that involved all the alphas holing up in a cave at the top of the mountain to have profound discussions about “the great burden of leadership” in between fighting each other for fun and eating poorly cooked meats.

Jimin shivered. He attended one time and immediately decided that he’d rather be tossed naked into a hornets nest than endure another second of Alpha Camp.

“Yes. Well. Tragically my grandmother in Seoul took ill-”

“Every year?”

“She’s quite fragile.”

“If that is all-” the chief elder interrupted with a pointed look at both of them, “the situation we find ourselves in is rare, but not unheard of. Still... it’s been nearly two hundred years...”

His eyes rested on Jimin with something that looked suspiciously like sympathy before continuing.

“Luna rex provocatione is quite specific. Namjoon intends to fight you for the right to mate our Luna.”

Jimin’s wolf snarled viciously.

“Over my dead body.”

“I think that’s the idea.”

Taehyung again - but this time Jimin was too alarmed to be irritated.

“It-It’s a fight to the death? I have to kill him?”

The chief elder looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Technically... no. You do not have to kill him. You simply have to force a surrender. However...”

Everyone in the room leaned forward unconsciously.

“However?”

“In order for the Luna to accept a new mate, her old mate must die. You do not need to kill him ...but he does need to kill you.”

“Will someone please tell me what happened back there?”

“I was about to ask you the same question!”

The veins in your mother’s forehead were throbbing so fiercely they could be seen from space.

You sighed and aggressively massaged your temple in an effort to build patience. The seething matriarch of your family had never been a particularly bad mother - but she hadn’t been a particularly good one either.

Still...

She was your mother.

“Aunt Isa,” cousin Seokjin soothed diplomatically from the corner, “perhaps we should all just take a deep breath and consider the situation.” His gaze met yours supportively. “After all... our Luna completed the ritual correctly. She followed the scent of her mate and acknowledged him-“

“Who?” you cut in impatiently, “Who did I acknowledge?”

The corner of Seokjin’s lips twitched a bit in the ghost of a smile.

“Park Jimin.”

Your jaw literally dropped.

No wonder everyone had lost their collective minds.

“But... but Park Jimin hates me. He never speaks to me! He won’t even look at me.” You paled. “What if he rejects me-”

Jin snorted.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry too much about that. No one who saw the two of you today-” he cleared his throat significantly, “I mean he seemed pretty into it.”

Bile and doubt burned bitterly at the back of your throat.

“... That could just be pheromones. I’m telling you Jin, he’s never bothered with me like the others. I barely know what he looks like.”

That wasn’t true.

Park Jimin was a living, breathing work of art with plump pink lips and a backside most women would commit murder for.

You knew exactly what he looked like... what he smelled like...

Heat twisted deliciously in your gut.

And he’s mine.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” your mother’s voice interrupted unpleasantly, “because Namjoon is going to kill him.”

“How are you going to force a surrender?” Taehyung asked quietly. “Have you ever tried to compel another alpha?”

Jimin shook his head. It was common for alphas to unleash alpha commands on one another to sort out which of the two was more dominant, but he had never cared one way or the other.

“Has anyone ever successfully compelled Namjoon?”

He already knew the answer, yet he found himself asking anyway.

Taehyung gulped.

“Never.”

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update 🥺 Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me!

[yn-ymn-yln]

Can i request a klaus mikaelson x reader where the reader is in hayleys place… a pregnant wolf but in the end klaus and her fall in love?

Okay lovie I got pretty carried away with this so it's kinda long... but thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Clarification

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

*I didn't want to copy the show verbatim so I basically made this completely different from what happens to Hayley I hope that's okay!*

“Nik I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!”

“LIAR!” The pain in his voice has you recoiling. How had things gotten so fucked up?

“I swear, I love you! Please stop!” The hybrid’s furious gaze turns to your father who challenges him for what you all know is the last time.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” Your father’s corpse drops unceremoniously to the ground within seconds. You can’t take your eyes off of the man that had raised you, tears slipping down your face.

“Remember this day Y/f/n Y/l/n. This is what happens when you betray the original hybrid.”

Three years ago, to the day Klaus Mikaelson had slaughtered every remaining blood relative of your pack right before your eyes, leaving you the sole survivor of his man-made massacre.

Standing at the entrance to the compound you hoped today would go smoother than that day had all those years ago.

Klaus didn’t speak after you’d said your piece. Letting the shared history between the two of you cloud his judgement he’s on you in a second. His hand is wrapped around your throat, pinning you to the wall before you even have the chance to react. Instantly your own hands fly to his wrists pulling harshly to try and free yourself and continue the conversation without conflict.

Klaus doesn’t let up though. His grip gets tighter with each passing second. As his eyes begin to glow, the veins beneath them appear in a show of dominance.

Problem was, you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Growling lowly, you refuse to submit to the hybrid before you. With all rational thoughts out the window you sink your teeth into the arm of the man holding you. His unrelenting choke hold falters offering you your only chance to slip free. You push past him and take shelter behind his oldest living brother.

“Please do tell, what exactly is going on here?” Ever the noble gentleman, Elijah tries to diffuse the rather abrupt display of aggression.

“I’m pregnant.” The words fall past your lips without warning. Elijah didn’t know who you were, none of the Mikaelson’s did except for Klaus.

“Pardon?” Turning towards you, you can already see the look of disbelief color his features.

“She’s a liar! I’LL KILL HER!” The threat did little to scare you off. If he had really wanted you dead, he would have killed you three years ago when he had the chance.

“I’m not lying and we both fucking know it!” Lunging at you Klaus tries to maneuver around Elijah only to be stopped with a hand to his chest.

“I think that’s quite enough. What is your name?” He addresses the hybrid, then you.

“Y/n.”

“I find it hard to believe a woman I’ve never met harbors the child of my brother.” You chuckle humorlessly then.

“I do know him, have for years. He just doesn’t want you to know that.” Admittedly you had wounded more than Klaus’ pride when things had gone south between the two of you.

“Niklaus?” Elijah gives his younger brother a look that reads don’t fucking try lying to me. He doesn’t offer Elijah an explanation, opting instead to leave the room in a huff.

“I know this isn’t ideal, but I promise it’s his.”

“Very well, make yourself comfortable, we’ll find a witch in the morning.” You don’t ask him to elaborate, you knew they all needed proof, he needed proof. Without a word more you trudge up the stairs, Elijah following closely behind you. “If you’re lying about this, I’ll rip your heart out myself, you have my word.” hastily leaving the room you both had entered, he quietly shuts the door behind him.

There was nothing left to do now but wait.

Klaus Mikaelson should have been the last person you wanted to see. The remaining hatred you had for him should have been simmering but it wasn’t. You had never gotten a proper goodbye from the man that had stolen your heart. Your alcohol fogged mind told you there was no better time for a good bye than right now, and what better way to say it then to fall into the bed of the man you had once loved?

Klaus had eyed you suspiciously, his heart locked behind the walls he had built that fateful day.

You hadn’t even spoken, words had never been your winning feature. You had grabbed him by the collar pressing your lips to his.

It was heaven

He didn’t ask questions, choosing instead to lead you out of the bar hand in hand to the only safe place he knew.

His bed.

The months that had followed had been nothing short of chaotic. The witches of New Orleans had “officially” confirmed that you were in fact carrying the child of Klaus Mikaelson. He had taken the news rather poorly. Disappearing for weeks before finally surfacing at the compound again. Though he had returned, his icy demeanor towards you had stayed ever present. So, you kept as far away from him as you could. Until you didn’t.

You had been passing his study when the door had opened quickly causing you to stumble. You were sure your face was about to become very acquainted with the hardwood floor of the hall way when a pair of strong arms hand wrapped around your waist. You hadn’t meant to grip his wrist desperately, one hand flying to your barely showing baby bump.

“Your alright, I’ve got you.” His sentence was clipped, but that had been the most he had said to you since you stepped foot in the compound all those weeks ago.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure what had possessed you to bury your face in his chest but the warmth and comfort was worth the ire you were about to face. You’re surprised to look up and see him peering at you through confused eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t- It won’t happen again.” You leave before he has the chance to yell.

After your bout of clumsiness Klaus had laid off his harsh temper with you. You were sure it had been Elijah’s doing, probably some speech about stress being bad for the baby, but you didn’t mind. The somewhat calm atmosphere had brightened your mood considerably and gave you the tiniest shred of hope that maybe this wouldn’t be such a nightmare.

“ELIJAH!!!” You had never seen a thousand-year-old vampire move so fast in your life.

“What is it?! What’s wrong?!” His panic laced tone has a sheepish smile spreading on your face before you feel the tiny flutter again. Grabbing the originals hand, you place it on your stomach and wait.

“Come on little bean, you can do it.” The look of utter surprise that spreads across his face as a tiny thump reaches his hand is priceless.

“KLAUS COME HERE!” Elijah doesn’t move his hand, the wonder of human life making his undead heart melt. Klaus rushes into the room in much the same manor, the only difference being the glowing eyes and raised fist.

“Come feel!” You don’t hesitate to place his hand over your ever moving child. Elijah leaves the room then, wanting to give you and the father of said child a moment. “Do you feel it? Feel her?” A small smile spreads across the hybrids face his hand pressing slightly harder to the fading kick.

“I do. It’s amazing.” Silence fell upon the two of you, with it your doubts grew.

“What if I can’t do this?” The vulnerability in your words has Klaus looking at you in shock. He had never seen you so unsure of yourself.

“You can love, you are going to be a great mother.”

“No, I’m not, this baby is screwed and we both know it. Fuck, you can’t even look at me half the time. What kind of a family is she going to have?”

“This family isn’t perfect but it’s hers.” His words do little to comfort the growing fear inside your heart.

“I wish my dad was here.” The sob that rips from your throat is deafening, not for the first time Klaus wishes things had happened differently between the two of you.

“I’m sorry love.” You don’t let him finish, far too hormonal to not hug the father of your bastard kid. Klaus holds you tightly letting you release the built-up emotion, kissing your forehead every so often. “We will get through this, I promise.” Nodding your head, you stay firmly planted against the hybrid’s chest.

You hope he’s right.

Things weren’t perfect between you and Klaus, but with each passing day you saw the tension leave his shoulders and felt your anger slip through the cracks.

You loved him. It was simple, but none of it mattered if he didn’t love you back.

Sitting on the couch watching T.V. you traced patterns onto your stomach, mindlessly humming a melody that lived rent free in your mind. Klaus made his way into the living room, lifting your feet before placing them in his lap.

“What are you watching love?” The nickname had become a staple in the conversations between the two of you as of late.

“I’m not sure, I’m not really paying attention.”

“Why? Are you feeling alright?” Rubbing his hand up and down your leg you watch the man before you. Things had been so corrupt between you both, at one point you were sure you could never go back. Now though? You weren’t sure what to believe.

Nodding lightly, you try to defuse his worry.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Us.” The word hangs heavily in the air.

“What about us?” Inhaling a lengthy breath, you burst the perfect bubble you had been living in.

“I’m in love with you.” Klaus pauses his movement on your leg shifting his gaze to stare into yours.

“What?”

“I know a lot of shit happened between us Nik, and I know you don’t trust me but I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped. I know you might not feel the same” Your sentence is cut short by the hybrids lips connecting with your own.

“I thought I would never hear you say that again.” Closing the gap again, you press your forehead to his.

“We both made mistakes. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.” At his words you feel the moisture begin to pool in the corner of your eyes.

“Me too.”

The love you and the hybrid shared had never faded, you both just needed a little clarification to see it.

[mygodyouredivine]

The Hell In Your Eyes - 2

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things. 

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: mild blood

Word Count: 3498

Previous Chapter 

It’s 5 in the morning. 

The sun isn’t even out yet and you’re standing in the kitchen, dressed in your pajamas, preparing smoothies. You thought you’d be used to waking up early, considering how you always used to make smoothies before everyone else woke up, but apparently your recent ‘break’ has thrown off your internal schedule. In fact, if not for FRIDAY’s not-so-gentle reminder of your morning plans, you wouldn’t have gotten up in time.  

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mason jar you’re holding.  

It won’t happen again.  

It can’t.  

Not when you’re already in everyone’s way, always leeching off of Tony’s money, always causing trouble for Steve and making Bucky worry. Not when Natasha always feels a need to look after you and Wanda constantly checks in. Not when Sam and Clint feel obligated to train with you and Thor treats you like you’re going to break — going to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces and then cut and bleed all over the tower’s expensive, clean floors.  

No. If you can’t even do something as simple as making smoothies for the people you’re always inconveniencing, what use are you? 

Your fingers tighten and you can feel your nails digging into the hard glass of the mason jar. For a second, you wonder if it’s possible for you to scratch the class. You clench your fingers — hard — in an effort to break the glass. Just once, you want to break something else. But as you loosen your grip, you’re forced to come to terms with the fact that the jar is just as pristine as it always was.  

Not a single crack. Not even a scratch.  

The jar is fine — the jar is always fine. But your fingers are dented and your joints are sore and you’re so tired of this. Of always being the one who is damaged. The only one who is ever damaged. Everyone else is always unscathed and no one else ever breaks.  

You drop the mason jar. 

Shit. 

It falls to the ground and you watch as it shatters all over the floor.  

Maybe Thor is right. Maybe you are going to shatter one day, just like that mason jar. 

But it’s not going to be today. Breath quickening, you furiously remind yourself that it’s okay.  

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.  

It’s not you on the floor. Maybe one day it is going to be you, lying there broken and useless and fractured and gone, but right now, it's not. You’re still full and whole and not broken and the glittering glass fragments on the floor aren’t you. Looking back down, your eyes catch on droplets of red. Your breath stops and the air in your lungs still. Sure, the glass on the floor isn’t your ground-up soul, shattered and crushed, but the blood is yours. 

There are specks of blood splattered amidst the glass, staining the kitchen’s pristine floor. And you know it’s your blood because you can feel it dripping from your fingers where the glass cut into your skin and you can’t help but stare as a drop of it rolls off your middle finger and falls to the ground and you flinch as it lands in a little crimson circle.  

It’s pretty, though.  

And you can’t look away as another drop falls, landing directly on top of the previous one, doubling the size of the puddle. For a second, you wonder how much blood it would take to cover the entire floor — and if your body has enough.  

But then you hear footsteps approaching and you hastily kneel onto the ground, furiously attempting to clean up the mess you made, to fix it. More blood trickles from your fingertips as you desperately grab at the broken pieces. You’re making it worse.  

The glass blurs and you frantically blink, trying to rid yourself of the tears beginning to form in your eyes. The last thing you need is to cry — for your tears to mingle with your blood — for you to appear even weaker than you already do.  

But you are weak. You can’t even win this battle — against yourself, and you feel the tears overflow and you watch as they fall, turning the dark red into a lighter pink. 

It's a pretty pink. 

It’s a pink that reminds you of the first lipstick you ever bought. You and your best friend had gone down to the convenience store after school, sneakily carrying the lunch money you’d both saved. You remember counting the coins together and excitedly running towards the makeup aisle, where the both of you promptly agonized over the perfect lipstick for the better part of an hour.  

Eventually, you settled on a sparkly little tube of lipstick — more of a chapstick really, and you can distinctly recall how it smelled like heaven and tasted like strawberries, and how it always tinted your lips just the slightest bit pink.  

But right now, the pink you’re staring at isn’t lipstick, and you can very clearly make out two feet standing before you. Looking up, you meet a pair of eyes. Blue, like the sky on a sunny day. It’s a blue filled with promises of picnics and lemonade and daisies, of innocence and childhood, of strawberry lipstick. And in this moment, you want nothing more than to drown in that blue. 

Maybe if you bleed enough blood and cry enough tears you can drown in it. Maybe you can drown in the perfect shade of pink while staring into the perfect shade of blue.  

______________________________

For such a muscly man, Thor’s fingers are surprisingly soft.  

The god is currently standing before you, carefully bandaging your cut hands.  

“My lady, I thought you specifically told me that blood smoothies were not appetizing.” His attempt at humor brings a smile to your face, but you can’t do more. Shrugging, you answer. 

“Well, I guess I’m just a hypocrite.” His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow, and you can tell he’s about to reassure you. You hurriedly continue. “Even the best of us make mistakes, Lord of Thunder.”  

Thor’s eyebrows relax again, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. Relief courses through your veins. You wonder if Thor can feel it in the blood that is still leaking from your fingers. Gently, you tug your hands out of his grasp, just in case. Sending out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever prompted you to wear your black sweatpants today, you try not to grimace as the fabric brushes against your injured legs. At the very least, they conceal the blood. 

Thor doesn’t need to know about those. It’s bad enough that he’s already seen you dissolving into an emotional puddle earlier, not to mention how the literal King of Asgard had cleaned up the mess you made and is now attempting to inspect your hands again.  

“Were you planning on making the smoothies this morning, my lady?” Thor’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up, meeting his poorly-disguised-concerned gaze. 

“Yup.” You nod, popping the p . “I’m glad to be back, and I wanted to start making you guys smoothies before your morning workouts again. I know for a fact that whatever concoction you made yesterday was an absolute disaster.”  

Thor looks sheepish as he smiles, his hands running through his short blonde hair. “My brother would agree with you.”  

At this, you suddenly remember. You need to get Loki’s smoothie preference, as well as the time he wakes up. You know everyone’s preferred flavors, as well as their morning routines, to ensure your smoothies are always as fresh as possible.  

“Speaking of Loki, when does he wake up?” 

Thor shrugs, a confused look flitting across his face. “Truth be told, I don’t really know. Loki and I haven’t inhabited the same space in quite some time, and I am not familiar with his routines.”  

“Oh.” That would be slightly hard to work with. “Uh, well do you know what type of smoothie he might prefer?” 

Thor’s lips turn down into a pout. “I don’t think Loki would like any type of smoothie, my lady. Yesterday he made his distaste for smoothies quite clear."  

Before you can interrupt and remind him that his smoothie most definitely tasted nothing like your smoothies, he continues with a wink. "But I suppose if anyone could make a smoothie Loki does approve of, it would be you, my lady."  

You know Thor is somewhat disappointed by Loki’s lack of enthusiasm towards his smoothie. It’s easy to detect, even under his charming antics. Thor’s lips turn downward when he is upset, and he always picks at his nails. Sometimes he will suck in his cheek, and that’s when you know he is truly in a mood. But Thor never stays sad for long.  

His expression has brightened up again, and Thor is back, his ever-chipper energy once again emanating from within his warm eyes. There’s not a single trace of conflict in his eyes, and you wonder, for the hundredth time, how he does it. Thor has seen so much death — caused it, even — and been through so much pain, yet he is always able to hold it together, always able to smile and laugh and come back stronger. 

Thor is the embodiment of the word 'golden'. No matter how much dirt and grime Life layers on top of him, nothing could ever dim his luster.  

You think you're closer to being the dirt and grime than you ever were to being gold. 

“Thanks Thor.” 

______________________________

In the end, you settle on making Loki Thor’s favorite smoothie. After all, Thor is the only other god here who has dined on the finest Asgardian delicacies, and if he likes your chocolate-strawberry smoothies, you just hope Loki does too.  

The only difference is, Thor prefers his smoothies absurdly sweet. Whether it’s his insane metabolism or the ten thousand calories he burns a day, he never seems to be affected by the hundreds of grams of sugar you’re sure he consumes.  

You’re carefully pouring the smoothie into two mason jars when Nat comes into the kitchen. You smile and motion towards her drink sitting on the counter. Natasha prefers a green smoothie, packed with kale and spinach and cucumbers and ginger — not the best tasting thing you’ve ever made, but it must do something , ‘cause Nat looks like she doesn’t understand what the word ‘bloating’ means.  

The redhead raises an eyebrow, motioning to the second mason jar you’re carefully pouring. “Does Thor drink two of those every morning now?” 

“Well, no. This one's for Loki. I don’t know what he prefers, so I thought I’d make him Thor’s favorite for now. Except without the whipped cream and excessive number of chocolate chips.” 

Nat’s other eyebrow raises. “You’re kidding right? Angel, stay away from Loki. He’s a dangerous man. He’s deranged and unstable and selfish. He’s not going to appreciate your smoothie.” 

And with that, all the self doubt rushes back in. The self hatred that Thor’s fingers had smoothed away, the shame that bled from your fingertips, it all rushes back in, pumping through your veins and into your heart.  

“Do you appreciate my smoothie?” You hadn’t meant for it to come out, and you certainly hadn’t meant for it to sound so insecure. 

Nat’s eyes widen, and she hastily retreats. “Nono Angie, that's not what I meant. Come on, you know all of us love your smoothies. What I’m trying to say is —” her fingers meet her forehead in a gesture of frustration “ — we appreciate and love you for all that you do, but Loki won’t. He’s too arrogant and he definitely thinks we’re all beneath him.”  

With that, she moves closer to you and envelopes you in a hug. Natasha means well, you know that, but she doesn’t realize how her words come off — how she just backed up the little voice inside your head, repeatedly telling you that you’re worthless. You wonder if she even wants your smoothie, or if she just humors you. And then her arms retreat from around you, and she steps back. 

“Sorry Angie, but I’ve got to go now. I love you — we all do. You know that right?”  

You nod, and smile. “Thanks Nat. I love you too.” 

______________________________

Natasha’s smoothie has separated. The blended ingredients have floated to the top, and the green liquid has settled below. The abandoned smoothie sits on the edge of the counter, where she left it, only reaffirming your suspicions that she didn’t really want it in the first place. Dimly, you consider dumping Loki’s smoothie out. Maybe Natasha is right. But you don’t really want to waste any food, so you move to put his smoothie in the fridge. Maybe Thor will drink it later.  

(If he even likes them.) 

But as you open the fridge door, you notice the plate of leftovers you snagged yesterday is gone. The saran wrapped plate is missing, and you don’t think anyone would have taken it, except…? You look around for the plate. It’s not in the sink or left on the counter, nor lying in the dishwasher. You find it in the cabinets, placed directly on top of its companions.  

You’re confident that no one in this tower would clean their plate after eating, except maybe Steve. But Steve isn’t here — he made his famous lasagna last night because he was leaving for a mission early today. So really, that just leaves Loki.  

Is it possible that Nat was wrong? 

Did Loki take the food you left for him? And ate all of it? And cleaned up? 

You suddenly remember yesterday, walking in on Loki scrubbing blood off the floor. You can’t say you were surprised Thor had left a mess, but you were somewhat surprised Loki was cleaning it up. Maybe it is possible then.  

So you decide to bring the smoothie to Loki. 

First, you make a quick stop at your room. Your legs are really starting to sting, and you don’t want the sweatpants to dry onto your skin. Damn. You’re going to have to wash these again, and you just did laundry. But it’s okay, and soon you’re walking out of your room, clad in another pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, holding Loki’s smoothie. 

You take the elevator and press the familiar button of Thor’s floor. Mentally, you’re once again debating whether or not this is a good idea. You’ve almost decided to just turn back when the elevator doors slide open and you make eye contact with Loki, who is standing awkwardly in the doorway of his room, one foot inside the door and one foot in the plush carpet of the Odinsons’ shared living room.  

His eyebrows are raised comically in an expression of surprise, and for a second you don’t see the intimidating god. 

But then the moment passes, and he straightens, eyes narrowing, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Can I help you?” 

A part of you — a large part of you — wants to leave immediately. To apologize for disturbing him and go back to your room. But another part of you, the one who caught a glimpse of Loki before he threw up his defenses, roots you to the ground.  

“Actually, yeah. I made you a smoothie.” You stick out your hand, ignoring the way it trembles slightly. “I know Thor’s smoothie probably tasted like shit, so I thought I’d make you one to show you how it's done.” 

When he doesn’t move, you step further into the living room and set the smoothie down. One of Thor’s hoodies is lying haphazardly across the coffee table, so you pick it up. Loki is staring at you. 

There’s an awkward silence, and you wish he would say something. Anything. But the raven haired prince is as stoic as ever. His eyes are still boring into your own and you can’t help but notice how strikingly different they are from Thor’s.  

Somehow, you’re engaged in a staring contest with the god — and you don’t really want to lose. In an effort, perhaps, to prove to yourself that you’re not weak (especially after the morning’s incident) you resist the increasing temptation to blink. You don’t want Loki to think you’re scared of him, even though you may be a bit wary , and you continue to stare into his eyes. 

They say eyes are the windows to the soul. If that’s true, Loki has a very — empty soul. It’s neither warm nor cold, just vacant . It’s almost as if you’re staring into the eyes of someone long dead.  

With that, you shiver, and surprisingly, Loki breaks the intense eye contact. He looks away then, and his head tilts downward.  

“Right then. I’ll just be on my way.” You hold up Thor’s hoodie. “I’m going to do some laundry. Do you have anything that needs to be washed?” 

You hope he doesn’t ignore you. You really don’t need that today. You just need to be productive. To do something — to help someone. And maybe he senses that, because Loki actually nods and walks back into his bedroom, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the lavish living space.  

A few moments later, Loki reemerges, effortlessly holding a laundry hamper.  

“Would you like me to take this down?”  

You’re a bit stunned by his unexpected and considerate offer, but your desire to prove yourself shines through.  

“Nah, I got it. Thanks.” 

With that, you lug Loki’s hamper and Thor’s hoodie out of their room, leaving Loki’s smoothie — and an intense hope he drinks it — behind. 

______________________________

Loki is an unbelievably neat person.  

His dirty clothes are folded — inside his hamper. And organized by article, as well as color. You don’t think he realizes how — awkward — it makes the entire process. After carefully shoving his button downs, slacks, sweaters, and jeans into the washer, you’re left with an interesting assortment of clothing.  

His undershirts are ridiculously soft, and you resist the urge to snag one. This isn’t Thor, you remind yourself. After piling them in, you stare at his hamper. Loki has folded his socks, which are paired together. You sincerely hope the washer doesn’t decide to eat one of them, as you doubt he understands the Midgardian concept of missing socks.  

Below his socks are… Loki’s boxers. You wipe away the mental image your mind involuntarily conjures and quickly dump the rest of the clothing into the washer, without touching anything.  

With that, you throw in Thor’s hoodie and your sweatpants, start the cycle, and leave, shaking your head.  

On the way back to your room, you realize that Loki has a very limited closet. All of his laundry had barely filled up his hamper, and you notice how most of his clothing consisted of somewhat uncomfortable items. You haven’t seen him around due to your break, but from his clothing you can assume that Loki has a very different fashion taste than Thor. Mentally, you make a note to slip him some of your oversized hoodies when returning his clothes.  

______________________________

You’re immensely thankful for Thor. He always seems to have the best — or worst — timing, and this time he has saved you from a rather embarrassing situation. 

You’re pulling Loki’s clothes out of the dryer (having already stolen Thor’s hoodie), and you’ve just started to fold his clothes. So far, you’ve shoved a forest green hoodie at the very bottom of the hamper, and you’re in the process of carefully layering Loki’s sweaters over it. Thankfully, the dryer is still mostly full, and you haven’t been confronted with the dilemma of handling Loki’s underwear again.  

Luckily, Thor walks in before you have to.  

“Are you doing Loki’s laundry, my lady?” His voice startles you and you jump, but manage to not drop Loki’s earthy brown sweater.  

“No,” you deadpan, “These are all mine.” 

Thor smiles that smile you’re so familiar with, and you can’t help but grin back. “Well, let me take it from here.” His grin falters for a moment, and he looks more serious when he continues. “Thank you Angel, for giving Loki a chance. I know he can be — difficult. And I wouldn’t blame you if you only saw the villain.” 

You meet Thor’s eyes, always filled with emotion — whether that be happiness or warmth, sadness or anger, and you think back to another pair of eyes. Soulless. You think of Loki, and you think of how you’ve seen those soulless eyes before; every single time you look into a mirror. And for a second, you let yourself believe that maybe Loki’s soul wasn’t voluntarily taken from him either. Maybe his cruelty is his defense, just like yours is the fake-happiness that you wear as a shield. 

“It’s no problem Thor.” You smile, your shield intact. “I couldn’t let him suffer with your smoothies forever, no matter how villainous he might be.” 

______________________________ 

Cruelty is just loneliness disguised as bitterness.  

- Tom Hiddleston 

______________________________

Previous Chapter  Next Chapter

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Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

[smol-and-trashy]

OC vore thing

wrote something dumb. yay. warning for mean asshole pred, fear of digestion, and fearplay. yeah, there’s kind of a lot of fearplay. been in the mood for angst, sorry :/ 

_________ 

And there is was, that knowing smirk slipped back in place. His eyes followed her, narrowing slightly as she quickly averted her gaze to the door. 

If she could make it, just before he…

A twitch of a vein throbbed in his neck. Vic’s knuckles were colored white from his deathly grip on the kitchen counter. He was waiting for her to make the first move. 

Maris clenched her teeth. She was trapped. If she made a single move, there was no doubt that he would catch her. But if she stayed… 

She slowly looked back and was met with his icy gaze. Fear snaked in her chest, she could hear the roar of blood in her ears. 

“Looking to leave so soon?” Vic’s cool voice cut through the tense silence and Maris did the first thing her mind cried out to do; she ran. 

Vic froze in place for a split second, looking genuinely shocked before he quickly composed himself. She fumbled with the door, heart pounding with trepidation as his footsteps neared. 

“You!” He hissed, his hand flew out and grabbed onto her wrist. 

Maris tore her eyes off the door handle, frustrated tears blurred her vision as she blindly twists at the doorknob. She needs to turn it, the moment she turns it, she can get out of there. Why did she even think it was a good idea to come back to Vic’s? Even if it was supposed to be a short visit.

She jiggles the knob some more and Vic stared at her incredulously. His hand still firmly wrapped around on her wrist, but he moves his free hand to fumble with something in his pocket. 

Maris doesn’t pay him any mind. She’ll take all the extra time she can get, despite her mind whispering that something was amiss about his shift in mood.

And finally, with the snap of the lock, Maris is able to unlock the door. 

Relief floods her chest, finally. She yanks her arm away. He doesn’t reach for her again. Instead, his fingers pull out of his pocket and right when Maris sets to run, he wastes no time digging a needle into her exposed upper arm. Maris lets out a surprised yelp, where had he gotten a syringe? 

N-no! I just need to get there before I— her thought process suddenly stops as it felt like her head was tightening into her skull.

Everything changed. She could feel her bones constrict and compress while her internal organs twisted. It felt like someone was throttling her and then placed her inside a giant shake-and-bake while shaking the bag vigorously.

"H-Help m-me." she finds herself croaking before the feeling of her windpipe being crushed intensified.

“Sweet dreams, Maris.” Vic crooned, his face quickly growing in size, leering down at her before her mind finally goes dark. 

——— —— —— 

….

What the hell did he inject me with? Am I dead? Maris thought as the white spots behind her closed eyes begin to scatter; however, she wasn’t prepared for a searing pain running through her chest. It was as if a million needles ran through her veins, jabbing at every bit of flesh; both internally and externally. Why was pain trailing her in the afterlife? Maris rolled over, clutching at her sides. Well, why would I think that would help? She thought bitterly as the biting pain resumed. 

“Argh!” Maris shrieked, eyes jolting wide as she shot straight up. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Maris noticed a shifty figure in the background. They were preoccupied with reading some sort of novel and already too large for her to recognize. The minuscule blonde shuffled quietly; she had to find a way to escape. Dream or not, she had a bad feeling about the figure before her and the apparent lack of Vic sent chills up her spine. Luckily, she was foolishly placed out in the open on a marble table.

Disregarding the dull ache in her chest, she carefully made her way to the edge of the table; stepping over bits of paper and pens to get to her destination. Why do I have to be small of all things? Would’ve been ten times easier if I was regular sized. Maris inched towards the high edge table, better jump than stay. She held her breath and began to run forward to gain momentum, her lips curved, soon she would be free. 

Or at least she thought. An oversized bit of fabric came out of nowhere and covered her means of exit; miffed, Maris paused. 

“What the—“

“How cute, it really is like seeing a tiny, cornered mouse struggle to escape.” a booming voice lilted.

Maris looked up, finally noticing that the figure was none other than Victor. Except, this time rather than having only a few inches on her, he rivaled the height of a tower. She could hear the poorly concealed laughter in man’s voice.

“Go on, continue if you would like. It was rather amusing to see you so confidently attempt to escape; you really thought nothing would get in your way, didn’t you?”

“What did you do to me?” Maris demanded, trying to conceal the creeping fear edging in her voice. 

Vic hummed, picking her up by the collar of her shirt and setting her down on his palm. Maris winced as his gigantic grey eyes honed in on her. There was nowhere to hide from him. 

“Putting you in your place, m’dear. You really thought you could leave like that, didn’t you?” He brought his face closer, she could the feel hot air escape his mouth as he continued. “Not if I have something to say about it.” 

Maris’ mouth gaped open. She needed to say something, anything. But she found herself at a loss for words. 

Unimpressed, Vic rolled his eyes. 

“I have to admit, you caught me by surprise for a minute there. Never did expect for you to try and leave me like that--” 

“You know why I was here tonight and besides, we were never even together. You can’t just expect me to stay...” Maris mumbled, but Vic’s cold glare quickly silenced her. 

“Weren’t we though?” His head tilted slightly, “I recall you singing quite a different tune a few weeks ago.” 

“We weren’t.” She said stiffly. They were just friends, if that. She helped him with an ex-girlfriend who had been harassing him, that was the furthest their relationship had gone. 

“We weren’t.” He repeated, mockingly. A twisted smirk stretched his lips as his eyes thoughtfully shifted to the side, before zeroing back in on her. “Hm, I guess we really weren’t anything, then.”

Maris paused, where was he going with this? Vic wasn’t the type of person to leave something at that, there had to be more. 

“Well, if we were truly nothing, I suppose that this is nothing personal.” He hummed and right before Maris was about to ask what exactly that meant, he pinched two fingers on her chest and swiftly dropped her in his mouth. 

The complete change of scenery made Maris freeze. She was in a mouth. She was in a human mouth! 

An amused chuckle rose from the back of his throat and Maris was knocked flat down on his tongue from the vibrations. 

Vic quickly tipped his head, feeling her tiny body struggle against the back of his tongue, but it was no use; she lost her grip and fell down. Down. Down. Down to an early grave. Down to where she’ll never see the light again, never see her friends or her family or her dog---She couldn’t breathe, everything was oh-so tight, she needed to get out of here, and fast. The crushing rings of flesh sent her down with relative ease as she tried grabbing onto the slippery folds of flesh to pull herself back up.

Despite her efforts, his muscles forced her down with ease. Maris shrieked out of frustration and dug her heels into his slick throat, but a more forceful swallow sends her down her merry way to her final destination. She shivered, finding herself unable to fight back as the gurgles from his stomach became louder and louder with each swallow.

“Vic, please. Please don’t do this.” she whimpered, but her only response was another heavy swallow.

Time ticked painfully slow as her legs slipped into a more open space, followed by the rest of her body. Immediately, she tensed from the strong gastric scent in the air. Bile rose from her throat, and almost out of impulse, she quickly screwed her eyes shut. The walls hugged her, almost suffocatingly, and then convulsed, sloshing her around his belly, almost as if trying to figure out what to do with her.

Until it finally dawned on her.

He’s…he’s trying to digest me!

She jerked away from the nearest wall, but his belly shoved her back into the slimy walls, drowning out her cries for release with a cacophony of gurgles.

“Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for running. I’m sorry for blocking you! Please, Vic, just let me go!” Maris desperately banged on the walls and dug her heels into the bottom of his stomach. There had to be some way to harm him from the inside.  

Her only response was a heavy thumping from the foremost wall, and Maris’ face reddened. He was enjoying it?! No...She bit her bottom lip as her heart raced against her ribcage; he was taunting her.

Right before Maris was about to inflict another full-body slam to the walls, a deep vibration shook the chamber. It was too loud and muffled to make out any of the words, but from tone alone, he had to be mocking her.

Does he want to kill me? Why is he going to such lengths to get rid of me?

She knew the answer. Vic’s piercing gray eyes from earlier picked apart every one of her faults at first glance. Vic always knew how to read her perfectly. She couldn’t say the same for herself, but she knew one thing about Vic. Once he had his mind on something, he would go at any length to get it. She just happened to be the unlucky object of his affections this time around.

“He’s going to kill me. He’s actually going to kill me to make sure that I’m his.”

Once saying it aloud, her heart dropped. Deep down, she knew what he was planning, but she didn’t want to admit it; she didn’t want any of it to be true, but after simmering in the man’s gut, his plan was perfectly transparent, and she was helpless to do anything against it.

Maris hugs her knees to her chest and makes herself as small as possible, sobbing quietly. She hoped her would grant her the small mercy of being knocked unconscious before the acids kicked in, but knowing Vic, even the automatic functions of his body would ensure that she would endure a slow, painful death.

-

-

-

The sounds of birds chirping rang in her ears. Maris’ eyes shot open. Her pillow was coated with sweat and her heart threatened to break out of her ribcage. It...was a dream? No, that couldn’t be right. It felt too real. She was dead, this was just her mind coping with her untimely death. She stared down at her hands, no signs of burns she thought would have marred them previously. 

“There you are!” Cohen popped his head in, followed by the rest of him. His brows knit together as he sat himself down at the edge of her bed. 

“Where were you last night? You were all over the place after Anna’s party, and kept rambling about meeting with Vic? I thought you cut ties with that guy!” 

Maris pursed her lips, but stayed silent. Was her brain addled by the drinks last night? She didn’t remember drinking anything besides water before heading to Vic’s to pick something up, but an alcohol induced dream made more sense than anything else. She sighed. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” She mumbled, voice barely a whisper, yet Cohen seemed satisfied. His annoyance and worry quickly melted to concern. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. “That guy has always given me the creeps.”

“Yeah...” she trailed off as her her phone buzzed loudly. She didn’t answer it. A notification from an unknown contact popped up: 

“ur welcome.” Was all it read.