#it feels so. lifeless. and people don't use tags right.

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

Can- can I start one of those homoerotic love-hate one sided vendetta type relationships with Instagram

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[fangsyouverymuch01]

Just friends

Summery: The hero of Baldur's Gate greatest battlefield is now drunkenly returning home from the tavern because your connection to the arcane world is dying, and it has been for months. Adding to it, is your unresolved feelings from a certain vampire you've sworn to forget.

Rolan and Lia, aiding you in your search for answers, are determined to divert your mind from troubles. Unbeknownst to you, this night is destined to change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav, Astarion x f!reader , Rolan x reader

Warnings: Fightning, sort of depressed reader, drinking, Astarion being a prick

Tags: Slow burn, friends to lovers

Note: This took way too long to write, and tbh I'm scared to publish it. Had a hard time coming up with a plot that would make sense (and yes this is the underdark/menzoberranzan fic)

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy and stick around for more parts in the future.

In front of you is an array of literature varying from books, scrolls and notes. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Picking up yet another scroll and unrolling it, the words painted on it turns into a blur. Arcane symbols dance before your eyes but the contents of the page escapes your fleeting mind and it drifts to past memories of Moonrise Towers. 

“...And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he pauses, searching for the right words to continue. “You’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Stunned by his confession, your own voice momentarily failed you. The Elf spoke again, revealing a truth that cut through your heart like a blade.“Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

Astarion further explains his train of thought, you could see his mouth moving but not a word reached your ears. Sadness, confusion, happiness and anger; the emotions mixed and collided within you. Was your relationship built on lies? Had you somehow forced him to sleep with you? It was all so much.

“I don't know how else to be with someone, No matter how much I’d like to.” 

You’d decided to remain just friends, and it had felt like the right choice. Liberating even, seeing Asterion grow into a person no longer controlled by fear. But now, you wallowed in selfishness due to your aching heart. Now it is the thing that keeps you from focusing on the task ahead. Now it is the thing keeping your from nights embrace, your body twisting and turning when the moon shone through the curtains. Now it is the numb feeling whilst faceless men sing your name between your legs. The decision, made with the intention of preserving your friendship, now felt as liberating as a chain strung to your neck. 

Moreover, you haven't seen him in weeks -  or could it be months? The passage of time blurs and certainly eludes you. Yet, effortlessly, his image flits into your head - bouncy white curls, piercing crimson eyes, a sharp nose and that godsdamn smirk. Interchangeable in your memory - forever young - he remains a vivid specter that refuses to fade.

Breaking your train of thought, there is a tap on your shoulder, a figure crouching over you to peer at the discoveries revealed in the scroll. 

“Found anything of interest?” Rolan spoke, eyeing you from above. 

“Ehm no, just lost in thought.” you replied, attempting to shake off the lingering memories that had clouded your focus. 

“Well, neither have I.” he puffed out a breath of air, “My best bet is to return to the House of Grief for more answers so I could study the mirror you spoke off.”

“I’m not sure they’d warmly welcome me back after my latest visit.” you let out a strained chuckle, struck by a memory of  Viconas lifeless person as Shadowhearts struck the merciless final blow to her chest. 

Since your time in the House of Grief, your bond with magic has slowly dwindled. The once-familiar currents of arcane energy now seemed distant. Magic had been an extension of you, and its absence felt akin to a cruel mutilation and you were desperate to feel magic coursing through your veins once more. Your desperation had led you here - Sorcerous Sundries, for any clue or hope that you might become whole again.

"Anyhow, have you heard from Gale yet?" you inquired, seeking a distraction from your thoughts.

"He deemed Waterdeep fruitless in our search and should be arranging plans to continue in Neverwinter as we speak," Rolan replied, his eyes pacing the floorboards beneath him. "Maybe we should pause our search for today; the sun is setting, and you, my friend, are in desperate need of a drink." His suggestion hung in the air, a respite offered amidst your futile search for answers. 

You had no energy to protest, you truly wanted to go, you really did. But what you needed was to dive into the mountains of untouched texts sprawled in a ring in front of you. 

Lazily tracing the arcane figures, partly lost in deliberation you answer “Thank you for the offer but I shouldn’t, you go and I’ll stay here.”

"Come on, just one drink. It won't solve all our problems, but it might provide a momentary escape," he insisted, recognizing the heaviness in your gaze. "We can resume our search tomorrow with clearer minds. Trust me, it's what you need right now."

A defeated sign escapes your lips “Fine, one drink but no more than that”. 

Laying a victorious touch on your arm, the tiefling grinned, "That's the spirit!" Helping you up, he proceeded, "The Elf Song in an hour; I need to run something by Lia first." With determined steps, he led you away from your search for answers in the pile of books. 

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

The warm light emanating from the Elfsongs' painted windows cast a glow over your figure as you linger outside the bustling door. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses weave together, that should beckon you inside but it doesn't. Nothing seems to pique your interest these days. The hero of Baldurs Gate was but a mere shell of what bards sang about and the thought of being recognized, of eyes filled with anticipation that lingers for extraordinary tales to be told - you can't stand it. 

Adding to your dread, are the invasive questions about your companions - about Astarion. Head spinning and lips slowly drooping to frown, you instinctively recoil from the entrance. 

With a heavy sigh, you reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around a familiar flask. The cool metal brings a small comfort, and in contrast your throat burns as you gulp down liquid courage. 

Stealing yourself against the prying questions and the weight of everyone's expectations, you push open the tavern door, stepping into the warm embrace of the tavern, where Rolan and Lia await, immersed in their own stories. You offer them a weak smile as you approach the booth. 

“There you are, I almost thought you wouldn’t show but I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“Come, sit!” Lia urges, patting the cushion beside her. As you settle into the booth, you can't help but notice the curious eyes around you.

Gods no.

Instinctively, your finger twirls and you mutter a spell to cast disguise self, only to be reminded of your uselessness. A tinge of frustration tightens your jaw, quickly masked by a forced smile. You divert your gaze, hoping to shield yourself from the unwanted attention. 

“What’s your poison for today?” Lia asks, a mischievous smile spreading from cheek to cheek. Her breath smells of alcohol; Lia and Rolan had clearly begun drinking ahead of you. Not that you could judge them, having indulged in your trusted flask outside the tavern minutes ago. 

“I’ll have what you’ve had.”

“Coming right up!” Lia responds, her enthusiasm undeterred. She signals the bartender, and soon enough, a trio of drinks arrives at the table. 

Rolan is the first to grip the glass and then clear his throat, “To us,  and Gale - and hope that tomorrow will give us more answers.” 

One drink turns into four drinks, and at some point, you lose track of both time and the units you’ve allowed to warm your gullet. Honestly it’s quite funny, why did you worry so much before? Silly you with silly thoughts! Almost as silly as Rolan’s eyes focused on your neck. He looks funny with his eyebrows furrowed, and a chuckle escapes your lips at the sight.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep staring at my neck like that, Rolan.”

“I did no such thing!” he retorts as a flush creeps up on the tiefling's cheeks.

Lia heartily laughs, swaying a bit, and offers her hand to you. “Join me for a dance, will you?” The music in the tavern entices you and despite the blurred lines of inebriation, you take Lia’s hand and step into the lively dance floor.

Lia practically dragged you through the crowded tavern, Rolan following closely behind to his best abilities. The dance floor was filled with twirling bodies, in rhythm with the bard's melodies. Pulling your arm up, Lia spins and chuckles as you reach the bards scene. Rolan, with a playful twinkle in his eyes, reaches the two of you and joins the dance. The world seems to sway with the music and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spreads across your face. 

As you moved to the music, you sensed Rolans’ proximity. His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you through the intricate steps of the dance. The unfamiliar warmth of his hand against your skin was a stark contrast to the memories of Asterion's cool touch.The bard's music kept on playing, the tunes bouncing off the plucked strings, the odor of alcohol on his breath, and hot uncontrolled bodies clashing against your person -  Gods, its too much. You can't stay a minute longer or you might suffocate. 

“I need some air,” you mumble and offer an apologizing smile, excusing yourself as the dance continues without you. 

“Wait!” a muffled voice calls out, but you pretend that you’re too far off to hear. 

Faces blurred into a sea of strangers, and the lively chatter became an indistinguishable hum. Your breath quickened, and you couldn't shake the feeling of faceless men and women judging your every step. Because now they know - they know that you were no hero of Baldur's gate, just another drunk who couldn’t even cast a simple spell to disguise herself from embarrassment. 

Pathetic. 

As you stepped out into the cool night air, the contrast between the warmth of the dance floor and the refreshing chill outside sent shivers down your spine. Crouching down you plant your hands to your knees, trying to catch your breath and ease your mind. 

A moment later, the tavern door swung open abruptly, an curly haired man emerging as he wrestled with another almost feral one. The creature thrashed and snarled at the curly haired man as he strained against the frenzied movements. Caught off guard, you stood up in the shadow beside the entrance, your breath hitching again as you observed the scene unfold. 

Seizing the opportunity to make sense of the situation, you assertively approached the struggling men, dagger clutched and ready strike if needed. The curly-haired man's eyes flickered toward you and your gaze met his.

Deep crimson eyes, ivory curls, and are those fangs?

No, that can't be.

"Astarion?" you uttered, your voice a hushed whisper that sliced through the night, your eyes fixed on the elf's face in utter disbelief. There he was, right before you.

Astarion's attention shifted to the rabid man, deftly maneuvering to subdue him. He restrained the creature, halting any further erratic movements. With precision, Astarion extracted a flask from his belt, causing the man's struggles to intensify. Despite the increased resistance, Astarion's actions remained calculated and exact.

With the man momentarily contained, Astarion secured him in place with one hand, the other retrieving a flask. He raised it to his mouth, a subtle glint of fangs emerging as he skillfully removed the lid with his teeth.

"Hello," the rogue spoke, pausing to inject the man with the unfamiliar substance. The feral struggles ceased, and Astarion continued, his tone now imbued with a nuanced warmth, "darling."

Stunned you remain constrained where you stood. This is real, Astarion is here after days, weeks and months of him plaguing your thoughts every waking moment. Your mind races, trying to process the surreal present. A rumble in your stomach seems to pull you out of your trance, nausea spreading in your throat. 

Keep. it. down. 

“Care to help or do you intend to stand there and just gawk?”

Once more the door beside you swung open, a tall figure emerges with swaying strands of long hair catching in the wind, intent on reaching the paralyzed man and Astarion. 

“We said no killing, remember?" he spoke.

"Oh, my apologies, brother. I must have forgotten our little agreement when I was wrestling the feral dog whilst you were nowhere to be seen.”

At that moment, you recognized the man - Leon. His expression remained stoic, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Your theatrics aren't amusing, Astarion. We need to keep them alive; this is not the time nor place for you to display your unique methods."

You finally had a surge to act, fumbled in your bag and searched for any potion or scroll that could help. A glass vial of what seemed to be a healing potion met your fingers, and you pulled it out, unscrewing the cap with shaky hands. 

“Here take this,” you called out, holding the potion aloft, offering a forced smile amidst the charged atmosphere. 

As you step forward to give Leon the vial, Rolan stumbles out the tavern door, tipsy and eyes searching for something in the night. You’d completely forgotten about Rolan and Lia, they’d probably been worried since you hadn’t returned. His eyes widened at the chaotic scene before him, and he instinctively moved to stand in front of you, a protective gesture. His hand flickered with a small flame, ready to defend against any potential threat. 

"What in the hells is happening here?" Rolan demanded, a mix of concern and bewilderment in his voice.

Before anyone could respond, Astarion let out a small laugh, one that you couldn't seem to decipher the meaning of. What was so funny? Rolan certainly wasn't amused, and the flame rose higher from his palm at the elf's dismissive laugh. Leon's gaze moved to Rolan, his hands raising in a gesture of peace, showing that they were no threat to him or you.

“Got yourself a knight in shining armor, have you now?” Astarion remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Knight in shining armor? The words stung, and a spark of anger flared within you. Rolan didn't need to save you nor did you want him to. Opening your mouth to retort, Leon interjected, his voice firm and commanding.

“Astarion, don’t,” Leon snapped at him, a stern edge to his voice. He then looked directly at you, his expression softening. “We don’t want to fight you. Let's find a quieter spot to talk, and we’ll explain everything.”

You nodded, the tension in the air making it clear that this was not the time for confrontation. Rolan, still wary but trusting your judgment, lowered the flame in his palm. With cautious glances exchanged between the group, you began to move away from the chaotic scene, guided by Leon's lead to a more secluded spot where answers awaited. 

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 30th - Blood (Papa Emeritus II x Female!Reader)

Tags: Vampire Secondo, Blood Kink, Menstruation, Dub-Con, Cunilingus, Fear Play, Mentions Of Death, Degradation, Multiple Orgasms, 2nd Person POV

It was in the darkness of the abbey that you found him. A chill went up your spine, terror shooting through you at the horrific sight that you were a witness to.

There were rumors going around the ministry that the infamous Papa Emeritus II was actually a vampire. You didn't believe it, of course, that's just silly! But you could understand the similarities between the man and the fictional beast. His particularly sharp canines, his affliction with the sun, his avoidance of people, and his nocturnal habits. You thought he was just a bit quirky. Intimidating and terrifying for sure, but nothing more than a mortal man. When siblings started to go missing, you thought it was a mere coincidence.

You were proven wrong when you saw Secondo greedily slurping down on the neck of Sister Caterina, your roommate. You wondered where the girl ran off too at such a late hour, and hence you came looking for her. She was pale, covered in her own blood, but still hanging in there and struggling for her life. You gasped, which inadvertently drew the attention of Secondo, snapping his head towards your direction. Shit.

His pupils were blown out, a crazed look in his eye, and for a split second, you could swear his white eye was glowing. He dropped Sister Caterina unceremoniously to the ground, her body hitting the cold tiled floor with a loud thud. She pulled herself up shakily, using her remaining strength to hobble away as quickly as possible, in search of help. Secondo approached you, and all you could do was stand there, frozen, like you were in some sort of trance.

He towered over you, and your legs shook violently, fearing for your life. Still, you couldn't move, you could only shut your eyes tight and prepare yourself for your impending doom. This is it, you thought to yourself, feeling his hot breath on your neck, a droplet of Sister Caterinas blood dripping from Secondos mouth and landing on your nightgown. He inhaled deeply, a gutteral moan escaping his lips.

"Sister _____." He greeted lowly. "You tore me away from my meal. I forgive you, though. Her blood was bitter, no good at all. But yours..." He took another inhale. "Yours smells so fucking sweet. You're going to make such a fine dish for me." You felt his fangs graze your neck, but he paused, retracting himself and sniffing the air a few times in confusion.

"You're dripping." He growls, his breathing labored. "No wonder you smell so strongly. Your blood is already escaping you, isn't it?" He smiles devilishly, holding a sadistic look in his gaze. As fate would have it, you just so happened to be on the first day of your period. Shit, he could tell?

"Don't look so frightened now, darling. This just saved your life. I don't need to drain you lifeless, not when I have your cunt to get me full, hm?" He drops to his knees, hands securely on your hips so you can't get away. You try to push him away, but he snatches your wrist. "Do you want to live or not?" He spat frustratedly, brows furrowing in anger. A single tear escapes your eye. You nod.

"You do? Well so do I." He grumbles, flipping up your dress, exposing your panties and bare legs. "Don't take this personal. I kill only to survive. You think I like doing this? No dear, but I have to. I can't control myself..." His fingers hook under the sides of your underwear, pulling them down and exposing your pussy, glistening both with your menstruation, and also from arousal. Wait, how are you so turned on right now? Just a minute ago you thought you were going to die.

His tongue delves into you, flicking in and out of your hole rapidly. He moaned at the taste, nails digging into your hips. "Tastes so fucking good." He gruffs, voice vibrating against your folds. His fingers made its way up your thigh and in your cunt, curling and gathering all the blood he could possibly pull from you, sucking it up hungrily. This wasn't so bad, you thought, compared to the alternative. In fact, it felt fucking incredible, you couldn't help but moan, covering your mouth with your hand so nobody could hear.

Is it really so wrong to provide him a good meal? Not only are you keeping him alive, but you kept Sister Caterina alive as well. Maybe he could come to you around this time of the month every time he feels hungry, sparing the lives of countless people. Wow, how selfless, you're a real humanitarian! While saving lives was definitely in your mind somewhere, your main focus was a desire to be eaten out like this as often as possible, for as long as possible. You don't know what venom he injected in you to make this so enjoyable, but you weren't complaining.

Your moans catch his attention, a light smirk playing on his red stained lips. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? I thought for certain you'd hate this, having a monster devour you and all. Turns out you're a filthy slut, isn't that right?" He teases, licking a long, slow stripe along your slit. "You like having a creature of the night turn you into his bitch? A little blood bank? Lucifer below, you're pathetic." He shoves his face back between your legs, his degradation only making you wetter.

You were so close, biting your lip so hard you could taste your own blood. You can't see what Secondo likes so much about the taste, to be honest. Gripping helplessly at his scalp, you cum hard, legs shaking and a sharp cry of pain and pleasure spilling from your lips. Secondo holds you firmly so you don't topple over, lapping up your blood and your juices, deeply enjoying the mixture. "Just when I thought you couldn't taste any better." He comments. "I hope you don't think I'm finished with you just yet, my little blood bank."

He's back on you again, licking and sucking, overstimulating the life out of you. Sure, he won't kill you by blood loss, but you're almost positive this man is going to give you a heart attack with his movements. You cry, you kick, you struggle, but he has you speared in place, exactly where he wants you. Once the painful intensity of your last orgasm subsides, you're able to fully enjoy him eating you out again, moaning and whimpering in content, back against the wall as you just let it happen and give in to the pleasure.

-

Soon enough, you can't even remember how many times you came. You're nothing but a babbling mess, incoherent pleas making their way out of your mouth. Pleas for him to stop or keep going, that's unclear even to you. He's managed to ignore you, focusing solely on his need to feed. Fuck, when is he gonna be full? Greedy little asshole. At some point, you had forgotten exactly when or how, but you fell over from the debilitating orgasms. Secondo was at least kind enough to catch you and lay you down on the floor gently, before going right back into your pussy.

"Need more. Fuck, your cunt is so addicting. And your blood, cazzo... You will be seeing much more of me after tonight, I guarantee you that. You can't escape me now. You've gotten me hooked, puttana." He chuckles softly, sucking on your sensitive clit like he was trying to tear the damn thing off. Maybe he was, you couldn't tell. It feels to good to worry about anything anymore. He could kill you right after this and you wouldn't mind. What a hell of a way to die anyways, am I right?

As yet another orgasm was approaching you, tears streamed down your face, sobbing from the oversensitivity. You couldn't handle another one, you couldn't. But it didn't matter, he was going to give you one. He was relentless, frenzied, it's a wonder how he still has the energy after about an hour of going at it. I guess a perk of being a vampire is not having to worry about lockjaw anymore.

"You're going to cum again, girl? Delicious. Give me my dessert, Sorella..." He rumbles, tongue never stopping, never losing rhythm. His fingers applied just the right amount of pressure inside of you to send you toppling over the edge, screaming bloody murder as your cries of ecstasy echoed throughout the chapel. Your bones feel like they're fucking vibrating, you're so lost and too far gone. Hell, you've successfully forgotten your own name after that one. You are a husk of the person you once were, just like all his other victims, except you still had a heartbeat.

He finally pulls away, and you sigh in relief, body relaxing and melting into the floor, or at least that's what it feels like. Who knew stumbling across a vampire and being at their mercy would be so rewarding for both parties involved? You could feel yourself fading into a deep sleep. It's gonna be really hard to explain to the black mass attendees in the morning why you're panty-less and covered in blood, passed out on the floor, but you could care less. You're boneless, your only option is to remain grounded and let sleep take hold of you. You're at peace.

Until you feel his tongue on you again.

-

[curioussubjects]

I just finished Veilguard, and...I'm really not sure how I feel about it?

All in all: good game, had fun, but still didn't quite hit some of the highs it wanted to hit and it's still not as good as DA2

(Spoilers galore below for everything)

The Good:

Pretty game is pretty;

Love the codexes, especially the ones written by companions or with their commentary;

Speaking of, the Mementos had so excellent tid bits of lore flavor to them, as well;

Regrets of the Dread Wolf was a damn good quest;

Some truly funny party banter;

I actually thought it was really easy to figure out who my Rook is as I played the game, which was much harder for me to do for my Lavellan in DAI;

And speaking of Lavellan, she was in character she WOULD say that she WOULD do that. Bless;

Everything about Nevarra and the Mourn Watch, I wish there was more content there because I was so into it;

Orb and dagger mage is really fun to play, which was VERY surprising considering I don't play close range ever;

I also really enjoyed destroying blight boils for some reason lmao;

Petting cats (they PURR WHEN YOU DO);

Assan <3;

Taash being so autistic;

Teia and Viago my beloveds;

✨Friendship✨

The Solavellan of it all;

And Solas, too. Love that sadsack disaster man;

Maybe this is super basic of me but I liked Varric's narration...idk it's comforting;

Honestly, just Varric in general was a bit safety blanket in a nice way for me because the game feels overwhelming at first;

There's no party like an all Dalish party!

Exploring -- loved finding all the fun details in each location, and I know I didn't even do enough in my playthrough;

I'm weak for stories about guilt, fear and regret. And I'm even weaker when those stories are so obviously about forgiveness and moving forward. Also love. Always love.

The Bad:

The pacing. I've said this before but DAtV could've used a more explicit arc structure or have quests note which level they're meant for or SOMETHING because some times it seemed I was doing quests too early or too late for when I was in the main story. I also thought events kept oscillating from happening too fast or too slowly, and it very much did get in the way of immersion;

The romance. Literally what are you doing Dragon Age that you fumble the romance. Granted, I only romanced Davrin so far, but I'm getting the sense from looking through the tag that maybe Lucanis' romance also feels a bit off? Honestly I have so many issues with the romance progression for Davrin that it's its own section;

I hope this is only a Veil Jumpers issue, but I thought Rook was so separate from the faction. I felt very little connection to them;

I've seen some people point out NPCs talk to Rook like they're a child, and while I don't really agree with that I do think Rook doesn't have enough opportunities to be knowledgeable in their own right. Especially annoying with a mage Veil Jumper Rook! I miss the Inquisition perk dialogue options that let my Lavellan be a smarty pants;

Holy overdesigned armors! Yikes!

Not all areas are as well developed as the others: Rivain is the most egregiously empty and underdeveloped, but I actually thought Arlathan Forest was super lifeless too. So was the Lighthouse! You get the early game discovery bit and then nothing ever again and it's like oh that was really it huh (and the stuff we did get was so good please more?);

I hate to say this but BioWare missed the mark with Rook's place in the group. The companions seemed connected to each other, yeah, but Rook was like some cross between group therapist and not-so-undercover boss. There was none of the warmth Hawke got from their companions (or the Inquisitor, for that matter!). The game really needed 1. a lighthearted party hangout cutscene and 2. companions coming together to take care of Rook (the fact this isn't even a thing in the romance is bonkers to me);

Taash's personal quest being about choosing between being Rivain and Qunari as if that's how culture works is Bad Actually;

The worst minimap I've ever seen in a game wow;

Also: give me back my beacon marker;

The gods were in a regret prison but what were their regrets exactly we just don't know.

The Bad (Romance Edition):

Again, the pacing! Incredibly slow to start (and not in a slow burn way, mind!) and then super fast in the last third of the game;

In fact, the romance seemed to be running on a completely different level than the rest of the story. The last romance scene was incredibly out of place tonally, especially.

The first two romance titles for Davrin are "Thrill of the Chase" and "Hot and Bothered"...and like WHERE????

Davrin never writes about Rook as a romantic partner or as if he has any concerns with the relationship...which we later find out he has, but was news to me;

Tbh, the romance felt like an afterthought. There were cutscenes that in any other DA game there would've been flirting options, for instance, but this time there was nothing (what do you mean Rook can't make a flirty comment when Davrin is shirtless working out with Taash? It's low hanging fruit!);

Not nearly enough flirty banter between Rook and Davrin, which is nuts considering their personalities;

I'm really super disappointed with Davrin's romance, which sucks because he's actually perfect for my Rook and I really like his character. There was so much potential for a really fun romance that was both tense and sexy, but also sweet. But no. Secret good Davrin romance that exists in my head save me.

The ???:

Southern Thedas got scorched when the North didn't how?

Please tell me who was catfishing Andraste;

Making enemies super aggro on Rook unless you specifically have companions taunting was very weird.

[nightmaree-eyess]

Orange is the last of us

A tlou fic based on orange is the new black

Summary: you are going to prison and you’re new cellmate is abby anderson

Tags: MDNI 18+, prison AU, femme reader, y/n, smut, making out, fingering, oral, dom!abby, angst

Word count: 2,368

Divider @cafekitsune

You never thought in a million years you'd be naked in a cold, lifeless room, squatting and coughing for a police officer. But you guess there's a first for everything right? After you're done humiliating yourself you get dressed in stiff linen scrubs, walk through the metal detector with your belongings the officer gave you, and prepare yourself for your new life for the next 15 months.

“y/n this is where you’re assigned.” the officer says sternly

You look into the cell and no one is there. At least you'll get some alone time to compose yourself before your cell mate comes back. In the meantime you make your bed and get yourself comfortable. All of a sudden you feel a presence standing behind you. You whip around and…

“y/n? Holy shit I can't believe it's you.”

You know that voice and it sends chills down your spine. Abby. Fucking. Anderson. The person who got you into this mess in the first place.

“I don't even wanna look at you right now”

In the back of your mind you were actually relieved she was here. That you knew someone in this shit hole and that you weren't completely alone.

“Oh come on you didn't miss me just a little bit?” she says smugly

You turn around and she's standing in the doorway. She's still as beautiful as the day you met but you don't know if you'll ever forgive her for getting you tied up in the drug smuggling business. She still wears the glasses you helped her pick out all those years ago.

“Ok fine maybe a little”

She walks over to sit next to you on your bed and your hands almost touch. There is still some electricity there even if you deny it.

“So they finally caught up to yeah huh?”

“Yeah thanks to you”

“What does that mean?”

“If it wasn't for you getting me caught up in the drug business shit I wouldn't even be here in the first place.”

“Oh please, I didn't force you to do shit. You could've left whenever you wanted. I didn't make you stay.”

She's not entirely wrong but it does sting a bit. She gives you the rundown about how things work so you're not completely clueless. You only pick up on bits and pieces because you can't stop staring at her piercing blue eyes and the way her top lip curls a bit when she talks. You hate that you find that cute.

“Lights out ladies” the guard yells

The next day you're in the cafeteria. You had to work electrical in the morning and it feels good to sit for a bit.

“Hey hot stuff looking lonely” abby says jokingly

“Shut up” you roll your eyes. A smile creeps at the corner of your mouth.

She sits across from you while eating her lunch

“So how's your first day so far?”

“Exhausting but I guess the routine is good for me. And I at least know one person in here so it makes it less scary.”

“Oh really? Who? Have I met them?” Abby says sarcastically

“Wow jail made you an ass huh?”

“Yeah.” she sighs

You catch a wave of sadness go over her face for a split second but it disappears as quickly as you catched it.

“What does the rest of your day look like?” she asks

“Well I got a couple more hours of work and then I'm free why?”

“I wanna catch up some more, is that a crime?”

“I mean you're in jail right? Was that the crime they got you for? And not smuggling drugs?”

“Now you're being the ass” abby laughs

After work you meet Abby in the chapel like you planned at lunch. Why would she wanna meet in the chapel if none of us are religious? When you walk in, Abby is sitting on the stage waiting for you. The light from the stained glass window behind her illuminates her in an array of colors that accentuate her beauty. She looks the same as the day you met, just a little older.

“Why did you wanna meet in the chapel?” you asked your arms folded across your chest

“Because it's quiet and people usually don't come in here when there's no service.”

Abby pulls you up onto the stage with her muscular arms and her sandy braid falls in front of her face. As she does so you think am I holding this grudge for nothing? Or is Abby only being nice to me to make up for the shit she's done? Either way I don't think I can realistically hold this grudge for the 15 months I'm in here so might as well just play nice with her. It's nice to have someone by my side in this hell hole.

Abby presses a button on her portable radio attached to her hip and it starts playing love somebody by maroon 5.

“God, radio has gone to shit” Abby says and you both laugh

“So how long have you been in here?”

“3 years.” you see a heaviness blanket over her

“Do you know when you're getting out?”

“I think in like 2 years? After the second year here you kinda stop keeping count. It gets depressing.”

You don't egg her on anymore about this. At least she'll be here for the duration of your stay. You sit in silence for a while until Abby breaks it.

“I'm sorry for ratting you out, at the trial. I thought maybe they'd shorten my sentence if I did so. I feel so shitty about it.”

“I'm not gonna lie, I'm still pissed at you for that. But you're lucky I only got 15 months and that I'm not the one to hold grudges.”

She's staring at you with wetness in her eyes. You stare back and you realise she really does feel bad. You thought she was only apologising to make peace. She's sitting closer to you now and she still smells the same. How she still smells like her pine soap in prison is confusing but she must trade for it on the down low. Her smell brings on a wave of nostalgia and comfort and you feel her soft lips against yours. You grab her hair and deepen the kiss and feel her tear drop roll down your cheek. It brings you back to ten years ago. The kiss is now frenzied and hungry. You need her like you need oxygen but Abby breaks the kiss.

“Follow me.” she whispers in your ear. Sending a shiver down your spine.

She leads you under the wide podium just behind you for cover.

—----------------------------------

She rips off your shirt and dingy sports bra and cups your breast in her hand. She places kisses all down your neck and jaw.

“Fuck I missed you” she whispers

And a part of you missed her too.

She moves her hand from your breast and cups your cunt outside of your pants. You tilt your head back and stifle your moans. She rubs your clit on the outside of your pants with the heel of her palm. You're already so wet.

“Abby please fuck me.”

“You're begging me?” her voice like velvet

“Yeah” you moan breathly

She kisses you deeply and trails kisses all the way down to your happy trail. She shimmies your pants off.

“Wow you're already so wet for me baby.”

You bite your lip to quiet your moans.

Abby takes two fingers and teases your entrance. She slides one finger in and you squirm at her touch. Then the second finger enters you and you moan. Loud. Abby cups her other hand around your mouth to shut you up so you don't get caught. Abby moves her fingers in a “come here” motion slowly at first. You can feel the pressure build inside you as she goes faster. And faster. She stops and moves her head between your legs.

“You gotta promise me you'll be quiet because I can't reach from down here. One peep and I'm stopping.”

You nod your head and hers dip between your legs. She takes her nose and rubs it across your clit with ease. While her tongue ghosts your vagina, you feel your wetness drip down her face and it turns you on even more.

“Abby I- fuck, I- need you inside me”

“How do you ask?”

“Please abby” you beg

“Atta girl”

She takes her fingers again and enters you while she sucks your clit. You're biting your bottom lip so hard it might be bleeding but you don't care. You grab a handful of her braided hair and it's still as soft as you remember.

“Abby im- im gonna” you moan before you can finish the sentence and you feel your walls tighten around her girthy fingers. Abby laps you up and comes up for a kiss making you taste yourself. Then she kisses your cheek.

“As good as I remember it” Abby kisses you again cupping your face in her hands.

You get dressed and get ready to go to dinner.

—----------------------------------------

A couple weeks go by and you're really settling into your routine. Prison sucks but it sucks a little less with Abby. You guys are hanging out like no time has passed at all. And even though you're in prison, you’re happy. You didn't realise you weren't happy with your current fiance and he's gonna be pissed that Abby is in here with you. But right now you don't care. You just worry about surviving in here and if Abby by my side means I'll live to see another day then so be it. Sex is just a bonus.

Today though, Abby seemed to be acting a little weird. She was quiet all day and that's not like her. You asked her all day if something was wrong and she would just shrug her shoulders or not look you in the eyes. You let it go because you didnt wanna pester her too much.

Later on that night when it was lights out you finally got your answer.

“They're letting me out early for good behavior.”

You shoot up out of bed and look at her in disbelief. She got you in here in the first place and now she gets to leave early? A part of you resents her for that.

“What the fuck? Why didn't you tell me this? Is this why you were acting weird today?” you say this a little too loud and a girl from a couple bunks over tells you to shut the fuck up.

“I didn’t wanna tell you cause I knew you'd flip your shit”

“What, so you were just gonna leave me and not tell me? You think I wouldnt notice that my bunk mate / girlfriend was fucking missing?”

The silence is deafening

“When are you getting out?” you say defeated

“Tomorrow morning.” she says shyly avoiding eye contact

“TOMORROW MORNING?!?!” I yell

“Will you shut the fuck up already?” the same woman yelled

“You waited till the last fucking second to tell me you’re leaving?”

“Isn't that what you did to me? When I wanted you to come to my mothers funeral you didn't come with me. Instead you left. Broke up with me and left me in a city I barely even knew.”

“Is this like your payback or something? Putting me in this fucking place wasnt enough pay off? Well congrats Abby you win. You win the petty off.”

You sit on the edge of your bed with your head hung between your legs. Now that you think about it, it was a dick move to break up with her while her mother just passed away. You don't know why you did it. Maybe a part of you thought she was lying so you would stay with her? You don't know. But you feel like a piece of shit now.

“I'm sorry I left when I did. You needed me to be there for you when your mom passed and instead I was a dick and broke up with you. Nothing will ever make up for that and you have every right to be mad at me. I deserve it.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was getting out.”

“Promise you'll still visit or at least write to me?” you lay on your back as a tear rolls down your face

“I promise” abby says flatly

You don't know when but you fell asleep and when you woke up there was a note by your pillow. The bed next to you stripped and empty. You open the note that reads

y/n,

I'm sorry again for not telling you about my release date. The weeks I spent with you were the best weeks of my life in this fucking pit and those are the days I wanna look back on. I'll miss hearing your laugh from down the hall and the way your tongue sticks out when you concentrate when we play jenga. I hope when you get out you'll find me and we can play jenga on the couch and have sex in an actual bed again and not on the chapel floor. I'll write to you as much as I can but I don't think I can visit. I'm afraid if I come back that my release was all a dream and they'll put me back in (which is stupid but it's still a fear of mine). I love you and I never stopped loving you to be honest. Even though you broke my heart.

Talk to you soon,

Abby xoxo

You feel a heaviness on your chest and your eyes begin to sting. You hold the note to your chest while you cry and then tuck the note away under your pillow, wipe away the tears, and start your daily routine.

Pt 2

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - Eighteen

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: cursing, major character death(s) again, Alix is in this one so that's a whole warning in itself, angst, like a lot, enough that I want to give Bucky a big hug now.

Word count: 2.9k

Seventeen | masterlist

a/n: AND WE'RE DONE! When Night Comes is finished! I'm so thankful for all of the love and support as usual! I don't have anything lined up next so if anyone has any requests, send them my way! xoxo to all of my lovelies!

tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @buckybarnessimpp @vonalyn @thebuckybarnesvault

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Fear strikes into Y/N’s heart when she sees the people standing in the doorway.

Peggy, Alix, Thor, and Loki file into the room one after another while Luca and Ana Cristina grab ahold of her arms. Their grip prevents her from getting out and running however the thought barely crosses her mind. Y/N knew that even if she did manage to get out of their grasp, any one of the four traitors before her would catch her. Running for her life naked through the house while dripping water would not make for a successful escape so she stays put. Her anger replaces her fear and the boiling water feels like it has replaced the blood in her body. Whatever hate she felt for Alix increases tenfold with the help of the generational rage that has been stored in her body. She doesn’t even notice that she’s being held down anymore because she’s too focused on Alix, the creator of her nightmares and reason for her life of running. Y/N hadn’t seen this demon of a woman in five years but nothing has changed. She is still tall and lean, her long braids piled on top of her head give her a towering appearance. Her face is still somber and rigid from the years of bad deeds she’s done. She’s duller than before, thanks to the stress of trying to find Y/N but her eyes are what catches Y/N off guard. 

They’re gold. 

A yellow gold unlike before. 

The same yellow gold that a Lycan’s eyes become when they turn. 

Against her dull and lifeless face, the contrast is horrifying and gives her an inhumane like mien. That alone is enough to make Y/N break eye contact but she refuses. Even the simple act of breaking eye contact will feel like an act of submission to Alix and that is something that Y/N can not give to her. 

“There’s my baby girl,” Alix mocks her as she circles the tub like a predator stalking its prey. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks Alix. 

“Use your brain. What do YOU think I’m doing here?”

Y/N doesn’t answer right away. 

“Cat got your tongue? I’ll just tell you,” Alix says as she keeps circling Y/N, “Your little witch friends agreed to help me kill Bucky in exchange for you.”

“What do you mean in exchange for me?”

“They get to keep you since apparently you’re some important doppelgänger. I quit listening after a while.” “I thought you wanted me for yourself.”

Alix shrugs, “I did but then I found you that caught feelings for that Strigoi bastard so now I could care less what happens to you.”

Y/N chooses not to answer and when Alix is behind her again, she turns her angry eyes to Peggy who is not shy in her joy. A smirk is painted across her face and it sends a dagger right into Y/N’s heart. 

Y/N leans forward enough to make sure that Peggy knows that she is the object of her words and spits out, “How could you? After everything that Bucky has done for you, for Steve, for your son. How could you betray him like this?” Peggy’s smirk falters at the mention of her son, “That man has done nothing but cause my family pain. He’s made Steve his servant, murdered my best friend, and put my son in harm’s way too many times to count.”

“You are to blame for my murder.”

A gust of wind causes the candle’s flames to flicker and a pressure fills the room, making it feel tight and cramped.

“You were the one who was supposed to protect me and you didn’t,” Y/N says but there’s a hollow look in her eye, “You were supposed to go with me that day but you were too busy sleeping with Dorian Wright to come and that’s why I’m dead.  If you had just left Steve like you told Dorian you would then I would still be alive.”

Ana Cristina and Luca glance at each other but neither make a move. The gust of wind had been anything but normal and the two witches fear for the outcome. 

“They were after you that day, not me but you know that.”

Peggy’s eyes open wide in fear and she stumbles backward but Y/N doesn’t stop, “You used the fact that the Wright gang had tried to kill me in the past as an explanation for my death as a way to cover up your affair. You used the curse that my husband sold his soul for to cover up your affair and now you’re trying to fix your mistake via the worst plan I have ever seen. How exactly does siding with the great granddaughter of your paramour and my murderer achieve what you want?.”

Peggy goes to defend herself but Y/N will not have it and interrupts her, “How does this plan make any sense, Margaret? It most certainly won’t free you from your guilt nor will it end well for you. If it’s freedom that you’re after, THIS will end with you running for the rest of your miserable life and facing that eternity completely alone. Steve will not forgive you, your son will not remember you, Bucky will not rest until you have paid for your betrayal, and I will let you forget what you did.”

Y/N slumps forward, breathing raggedly like she had run for miles and silent tears stream down Peggy’s face. Alix, Thor, and Loki to each other for answers but none can produce one. 

“What the fuck was that?” Alix demands Ana Cristina and Luca. 

The two bring Y/N to rest against the back of the tub and exchange silent words through glances. Ana Cristina provides an answer, “It appears that Celeste used Y/N as a mouthpiece.”

“Ghosts can do that?”

“Celeste is not a ghost, she is a spirit and yes when a witch with enough power dies, they can sometimes use that power to communicate with the living or,” she looks to Peggy, “to those who are neither living nor dead.”

“Is she going to do it again?”

Ana Cristina dips her head to look at Y/N’s face, “no. Y/N is not strong enough for that. Celeste won’t risk killing her doppelgänger and angering her coven even more to get revenge on Peggy.”

“Can we hurry along with the spell? I don’t want to give her a chance to try,” Peggy mumbles as she wipes away at the tears and straightens her back. 

Ana Cristina and Luca nod before gesturing to the other two men to come forward. Thor and Loki take their place next to the tub but Y/N grips onto the cook’s arm. 

“Please don’t do this. Please…” Y/N begs her, “Please, don’t let them hurt me.”

Ana Cristina puts her hand on top of Y/N’s, “It won’t kill you, I promise.”

With that she tears Y/N’s hand away and allows Loki to take her place. All trust that Y/N had placed in her or Luca shatters and spills out of her eyes as tears race down her face. She begins to sob and thrash against the men’s grip, pleading with them to let her go and to not hurt her. Ana Cristina tells Alix to join her at the table and starts to go over her portion of the spell. 

Peggy stays pressed against the wall, still reeling over what Celestse had said to her. Any and all emotions are racing through her as she tries to process it all but one thought sticks out; if Celeste could use Y/N to say all of that, what else could she do?

The answer of what else can Celeste do comes in the form of a vision to Bucky. On their way back from dropping Natasha and Wyatt off in town, Bucky lets out a howl of agony and Steve slams on the breaks of the car. 

“What was that for?” he asks as he starts to drive again, “Are you okay?”

Bucky takes deep breaths to manage the head splitting pain, “There’s something wrong.”

“I gathered that.”

“No there’s something wrong with Y/N. I think….I think Alix is at the estate.”

Just as Steve goes to speak, he sees Yelena usher a wounded Juliette into her car. 

“You’re right. Something is very wrong.”

Bucky nods as he grimaces and looks up to see the same thing. Steve is already calling Yelena and has confirmation of the worst. 

“Yelena said that Alix is at the estate but Y/N is safe because Ana Cristina and Luca are there,” he tells Bucky. 

“That means absolutely nothing to me because we’re not there. What I want to know is why the fuck Yelena knows that.”

“She said it was a long story but that we need to get back as soon as we can.”

“Bull fucking shit it’s a long story,” Bucky sneers and rips Steve’s phone from his hands, redialing Yelena’s number, “What the fuck is going on and why do you have Juliette with you?”

“Let go of me,” Y/N howls at Loki and Thor as she uses any strength she has left to rip herself away from them, “Let fucking go of me!” “Take her out and sit her in front of me,” Ana Cristina tells the two men who do as she says. 

The entire time they are lifting her, Y/N is kicking and fighting them until she manages to kick Thor in the chest. Having the wind knocked out of him, he drops her and Loki does the same in efforts to check on his brother. She makes a run for it and makes it to the stairs but Alix is quicker and looms above her, blocking any chance to get past her. 

“Silly girl,” she mocks her once again as she grips her tight enough by the arm to leave bruises. Y/N tries her hand at fighting again and when Alix turns to chide her, she spits in her face. Alix freezes and slowly takes a deep breath. The hand leaves her arm and threads into her hair as Alix yanks her down the hall by it.

“I forgot how fucking stupid you are when you’re mad,” she mumbles as she drags Y/N back to the group. 

“Be a good girl for once and stop fighting,” she snaps before throwing Y/N to the ground at Ana Cristina’s feet. Thor and Loki stare at her in disgust while Peggy refuses to acknowledge her. Luca doesn’t meet her stare and keeps his head bowed as Ana Cristina bends down to Y/N’s level. 

In her hand she has a bowl with a red paste in it and she dips her fingers in it to draw on Y/N’s skin. She’s singing under her breath as she starts the process of tying their lives to each other but doesn’t speak to the doppelgänger otherwise, treating her as though she is just the doppelgänger and not someone who’s come to care for. 

“Please,” Y/N whispers to her as she shivers and tries to hide herself from everyone around her, “Please don’t do this.”

Ana Cristina makes eye contact for a moment but breaks it and continues to sing while adorning her with paste markings. Luca hands her various other things needed for the spell; herbs, jewelry, and other pastes. They are finally complete in their decorating when a metal headdress that is dripping with chains, jewels, and coins is placed on Y/N’s head. Her naked body is covered in runes similar to those that Bucky wears and she smells of the earth thanks to the burned bundles of herbs. 

Luca helps her to her feet albeit both reluctantly and he squeezes her hands. She glares at him and pulls her hands away, hoping that the cold shoulder will hurt him as his betrayal has hurt her. Ana Cristina steps in front of her, takes Y/N’s hand, and begins to sing even louder with Luca joining in. A similar gust of wind to before causes the candle flames to flicker and the brothers join in on the singing. The candles got completely out and Y/N let out a loud gasp. 

The candles burst back to life and the runes on her body are glowing a bright red as another voice uses her body to sing along. Alix shifts uncomfortably next to Peggy as the voice grows louder and louder until it stops. 

The witches collapse onto the ground, leaving Y/N to stand on her own as the glowing runes start to dim. She opens her eyes which are a flaming red and fixes them on the two women before her. The voice from before speaks to them.

 “Alix Wright,” it says as Y/N walks towards them, stepping over the bodies around, “Your family is disappointed in you. All that you have done in the Wright name has been for your own gain. You have forsaken your sacred oath to serve and protect Lycan. You’ve chosen a human over your siblings and now those who you brought with you are dead. Their blood is on your hands, how do you plead?”

Alix looks wildly between Peggy and Y/N, fear fresh in her yellow eyes. 

“You’ve sanctioned the murder of your siblings and now you must be held accountable, how do you plead?” the voice asks again.

“How am I supposed to have been killed?” Alix asks, anger replacing her fear as she tries to square up to her.

Y/N rolls her flaming eyes and utters Alix’s death sentence, “You are guilty. Lumină pe foc.”

Fire spills from Y/N’s body and races across the ground towards Alix, licking up and consuming her whole. Peggys lets out a scream and jumps away from a burning Alix. She tries to run towards the stairs but Bucky, Steve, Yelena, and Juliette block her way. Bucky grabs her by the throat and throws her against the wall next to them. 

“What the fuck did you do?” he growls at her as the others flock to those who are still laying on the floor. 

“She attempted to usurp your position and cover up her betrayal by taking the side of your enemy,” Y/N answers for her. 

Bucky turns to look at her and meets her stare with shock. He recognizes the voice of Celeste but the woman standing there does not look like her nor Y/N. Covered in ritualistic runes and jewelry, she reminds him more of the witches that his father warned him of and the waves of childhood fright he instilled into him come crashing back. 

“She is guilty of treachery, murder, and infidelity. How do you plead, Margaret Carter Rogers?”

With Ana Cristina in his arms, Steve yells, “Not guilty! She’s not guilty.”

Peggy takes her chance and breaks Bucky’s arm before sprinting to her husband’s side. Bucky lets out a howl of rage and pain as he resets his arm. 

Steve looks to his wife and pleads with her to say she’s not guilty but she just offers him a sad look and kisses his forehead. 

“I plead guilty.”

Y/N smiles, “So be it. Binecuvântează-ți trupul, Strogori.” 

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Y/N goes rigid and collapses on the ground while Peggy begins to choke. Bucky rushes to Y/N, cradling her burning up body in his arms and whispering words of reassurance to her. Steve, on the other hand, goes to do the same to his wife but hisses in pain when he touches her. Peggy wails and sobs in pain as her skin begins to sizzle and crosses appear in the places where her skin is unmarred. He looks to Y/N in horror and back to his wife. 

“What did she do? Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!” he shouts and his despair awakes Ana Cristina. 

She groans and shifts in Steve’s lap which draws his attention back to her. He begs her to help Peggy but she explains that she can’t. There is no way to stop the blessing process once it’s started. His horror grows even more as Peggy’s cries grow quiet until there is nothing. 

Thor and Loki slowly sit up as Ana Cristina drags Luca closer to her. Bucky is holding Y/N against himself while Yelena and Juliette stay huddled by the doorway. Peggy’s and Alix’s bodies lay motionless as Steve stares distantly at them. 

All is still and peaceful in the room. The only sounds that can be heard are the shallow breaths of those awaking and Bucky’s whispers.

“I love you, Y/N. I have always loved you and I always will. Te iubesc, T/N. Te-am iubit mereu și o voi face mereu. Mereu și întotdeauna.” 

Mereu și întotdeauna.

Always and forever.

Always and forever means endless nights and long days for people like Y/N and Bucky. It’s a promise of love everywhere and in everything. As her breathing remains shallow and his whispers become a song, their new love does not fade but grows for it’s the only thing it can do. It’s fitting isn’t it?

His lost love coming back to him years later only for her to then suffer at his hands the same way she had before. The cycle will continue.

Always and forever 

as it means in 

this life 

or 

the next.

[thebrottenthusiast]

Party Brotters in the house with brott headcanons.

Warnings: ANGST, brick has self worth issues, scott has PTSD, mentions of suicide (don't worry it's not for brick or Scott)

Individual hcs:

Brick:

I fluctuate on his sexuality because on some days I ship jo and brick (*gasp*) he's either gay or bi but I lean towards him being days more

Brick's dad committed suicide when he was young (about 9) so he feels a lot of pressure to be the man of the house and being perfect. He also wonders if he could've noticed his dad's suicidal behavior earlier, because in brick's mind, if he had just been a little more attentive, maybe he'd still be here... His mom always reassures him about it, but brick can't help but stress over the what ifs.

I imagine brick places his self worth on the amount of people he can help, so when his service isn't needed or backfires and does something bad, he can feel a little useless at times. His cadet code always told him to be of use and service! But If he isn't of service or his service ruins everything, than what use does he have, really? :'(

Brick has a younger sister named Lily who is about 7. Brick tries his best to be in her life, even if he is a little overbearing because he wants to be the positive father figure that was taken from him so bad for Lily.

Brick never had any real friends as a child, and was always regarded as the scapegoat to other children. Brick did notice behavior, but went along because he wanted friends. After all, if his service made others happy, that's what mattered the most, right?

Brick got his dog tags at his dad's funeral. He couldn't see his dad's face lifeless even though he knew his mom needed him. Brick has hid himself behind the funeral home and began to cry. Which is when he noticed another kid, who was out here to get away from all the crying noises and told brick to "stop crying like a goddamn baby". This just made brick cry even more. The boy handed brick a pair of dog tags he snagged from his pappy. He said that bricks dad had given it to his pappy in the army, and pappy wanted to return the favor and put it in his coffin. After that, the boy left and he never saw him again. Brick still remembers the day vividly and he hopes to find that same boy and thank him for his service.

Brick has those really loud dad sneezes that you can hear across the world. It has freaked out Jo at least more than once.

Brick also snores like a dad.

Amazing driver. Like near perfect aside from the fact he has shit music taste (that's what Jo said) and played Taylor swift on full volume when Jo (Jo absolutely despises Taylor Swift) was in the car. He never recovered.

Friendly rivals with Jo. She still calls him mean nicknames from time to time, but he gets her back by playing "shake it off" in the car or by getting her morning coffee at Starbucks with an ungodly amount of sugar added

Brick plans on making military styled clothing mainstream and donates to veteran organizations with the money he makes.

Brick likes frogs.

He also knows first aid.

He and Anne maria are best friends and go shopping from time to time. Anne maria will fight someone if they insult brick. She also tells the cash register when they got his order wrong. ("HEY! He asked for NO PICKLES!")

Scott:

Scott is bisexual. Send tweet.

Alberta is his younger sister who is about 13 years old. Despite their constant squabbling, Scott cares very much for Alberta and tries his best for her not to end up like him.

Scott's parents are not exactly the best, but they do try their hardest to be good parents.

It might not look like it, but Scott actually likes to read. Normally you'd find him reading some of his pappy's guidebooks or his mom's cookbook, but you also might see him reading one of Al's cheesy romance novels under a playboy Magazine from time to time.

You wouldn't expect it from a guy who glues loonies to the floor, but Scott surprisingly artistic and has a keen eye for detail.

He never had friends and never wanted them. Never wanted them until after ROTI, which had isolated Scott from anyone who had ever wanted to give him a chance.

Scott's fear of sharks eventually formed into a fear of water overall. Because of it, he has a hard time trying to go near water and has to be practically dragged by his pappy to take a shower. He's scared that Fang will pop out of nowhere and finish the job for good. It's gotten better though, at least he can actually wash his hands without flying into a manic breakdown.

He also has a hard time getting sleep because of his PTSD and constantly gets nightmares of him and Fang

Scott's hand often trembled as a kid and only worsened after ROTI, which is when he took up whittling. He'll often whittle something simple like a bird or maybe even Al. (or maybe that cute cadet guy who seems weirdly familiar)

When he was a kid, Scott and his family went to a funeral for one of his pappy's army buddies. Scott couldn't stand all the crying, it made them easy targets, but it was really annoying. So when he went outside to escape the crying noises, you can imagine he wasn't too happy to find some kid crying his eyes out. And he only made things worse by telling the kid to "stop crying like a goddamn baby". So in a desperate attempt to stop the kid from crying, Scott gave him a pair of dog tags he snagged from his pappy. The kids dad had given it to Pappy when he was in the army, so pappy came to return the favor and put them in the coffin. Scott was originally going to sell them, but he thought the kid needed it more than he did. Scott got a real mouthful from his parents after they found out he was going to sell it, but to him it was worth it in the end. After all, what use would the damn thing have buried with some dead guy? Scott still thinks about the boy from time to time. Scott hopes that he's okay somewhere.

The reason why Scott is fine with eating nasty food like dirt is because I imagine his family was very impoverished and had little to eat, so he had resorted to eating dirt as an alternative so that there was more for everyone to eat.

Aside from whittling, I think Scott likes to do origami with his dad's leftover newspaper.

Scott and Zoey made up after all-stars and he apologized for manipulating her in ROTI, while she had apologized for taking Mal to the finale after learning that his family is impoverished.

Him and Mike on the other hand? Tension is still there between those two. Mike tolerates Scott for Zoey's sake, but he's not afraid to smack some sense into Scott anymore.

Scott still keeps in contact with Courtney. They're on good terms.

Relationship Headcanons:

Dumbass x "oh no that's my dumbass" (it goes both ways for the both of them)

T4T swag

Scott fell first, brick fell harder.

The idea of Scott falling first is so hilarious to me bc Scott's first response is to go to Courtney and he's just like "oh my God Im in love with the guy I just tried to frame for stealing holy shit holy fuck, what do i do?" And Courtney's like"of course I have to help you, Scott! Besides, as a CIT I underwent extensive training for this!" So she suggests to give Brick a gift and in classic Scott fashion gives brick the piss shoelace ring he gave to Courtney.

Brick however, is genuinely touched by this and decides to return the favor by giving him a bunch of forget-me-nots ("They match your eyes." He says). Outwardly, Scott is aloof and just replies "whatever" and then five minutes later he's rolling around Courtney's apartment and squealing like the loser he is and Courtney's like " Holy shit i've created a monster."

So some time passes and brick notices he starts to feel weird. Mainly around Scott. His cheeks light up, his stomach feels fluttery, and he gets all shy. So brick being brick immediately assumed he's dying up until Anne Maria suggests that he's in love.

So now brick's even MORE confused because who on earth would he be in love with?? Jo?? It's not until he looks at Scott's piss ring that he realizes he's in love with him and Anne Maria's like "WHAT"

They both confess their feelings at the same time.

Scott has a bunch of little cousins and they all flock to Brick when he comes around. Scott isn't sure how he does it.

Brick does scott's nails.

Scott is a horrible dancer. Lucky brick is always there to lead him.

Brick's the big spoon most of the time because he likes the feeling of 'protecting' Scott.

Scott's the one who hogs the blanket though.

Where Brick likes to kiss Scott: his hand, his scars, his forehead.

Where Scott likes to kiss Brick: his neck, his cheek, his lips.

Scott gets insecure of his scars so sometimes Brick will just hug him from behind and kiss his scars. Scott loves this (he always denies this of course.)

When Scott gets a nightmare, he will lay himself down on brick's chest to feel his heartbeat and brick will run his hand through Scott's hair and maybe hum him a little tune.

When Brick gets a nightmare, Scott tries to do the best he can but he's not really a people person so he just tells brick everything's okay.

How people reacted to their relationship:

Zoey's shocked at the reveal of their relationship but eventually comes around. She's mostly just worried about if Scott's going to manipulate brick into doing something bad.

Mike is not pleased. Why would a good guy like brick go for someone like Scott? He tries to stay open minded for the sake of Brick and Zoey, but it still feels weird to him. When asked why by Zoey, he replies "trying to frame someone for stealing is NOT a love language" he comes around in the end though, but not after lots of reassurance from Zoey.

Jo does not care, she doesn't need to hear more lovey dovey stuff about Scott from brick. She still supports their relationship, just doesn't want to hear about it.

Anne maria thinks Brick can do better. Seriously, brick could get any guy he wants, why settle for the dirtboy? Regardless, she's still supportive.

Lightning don't judge

Dawn knew about them the whole time and was just sitting in the corner watching it all unfold. She had a bit of doubt in Scott but as time passes she knew he would find his way.

Courtney is ultimately happy for them. When Courtney noticed the similarities between her and Duncan and Scott and brick, she couldn't help but feel nervous that it would just be another repeat of their relationship, but when things start to unfold, shes happy that Scott found someone that made him happier than she did.

@totaldramararepairweek2023

[maggie-eatsregulusblack]

Little Swiss scrabble!!

Tags: angst, major character death, self harm, insanity, Swiss ghoul, Mountain ghoul, heavy angst, isolated, self inflicted pain

Ao3 direct link^

rest under the cut

A burden

Always and forever, nothing more than that. His problems don't matter, never will, and never should. Nobody’s gonna care, he hasn't been through enough, it wasn't enough, never was, never will be.

Never enough

Overdramatic

It wasn't that bad

Tears welled in the ghouls eyes for the hundredth time, how many times was he gonna pathetically start crying again? He had no reason to cry, why was he crying? Only an argument, that was it, he was just being dramatic.

The multi ghoul sobbed onto Mountain's shoulder, buried himself away. He didn't fucking deserve this, he had no reason to cry, why the fuck was he so upset over a little argument? Mountain was completely silent, not even moving an inch. Swiss felt the earth ghouls warmth around him, he didn't know if he should stop crying and grow up or just cry more, he deserved it, maybe if he kept going they’d finally think he’d been through enough.

“I’m.. sorry..”

Swiss was met with silence, not a single noise, word, or even movement from Mountain. Did he care though? not really, Mountain had every right to ignore him, he was crying over something so small, why the fuck was he crying?

Why was he crying?

He couldn't answer the question, was it because voices were raised? but there wasn't a meaning behind it, it was just in the heat of the moment, it was stupid. he could take it before, so why not now? had he just become a weak crybaby? Why now all of a sudden?

Swiss felt a sudden wave of emptiness and dread wash over him, everything went cold, time felt like it was paused. That’s when he realized.

Blood dripped from his palms, leaving red trails…like a river… as it trickled down his arms.

Clothing ripped, messed up, dirty.

Glass shards in his legs, everywhere.

His face was wet, tears flowing needlessly down his cheek like a waterfall that would never run out of water.

Mountain not there. He wasn't there, never was. He had never even stepped foot in the room. No one had, not since Swiss locked the room and boarded up the windows, leaving himself in the dark secluded room, empty.

Swiss made a useless attempt at shakily standing up, leaving red bloody handprints on the floor as he collapsed back onto his knees.

Right, he had been sitting way too long. How the fuck was he supposed to walk.

How many days had he been awake? he lost count, why sleep? he was just fine, wasn't he? Even if he wasn't, other people had it worse.

Stop being dramatic

Swiss would never be able to escape them. Not anymore, at least. Voices echoing through his head, now also through the room.

His empty, dull, laugh bounced off the walls, repeating itself, loud and clear. He sounded dead, passed on, lifeless, unalive, everything but alive, cheerful, happy. The adrenaline of new cuts would never get old, would it? Always a repeating cycle.

Cold, metal invading and piercing the skin.

Nothing, silently watching as blood slowly formed small beads on top of the once clean and unharmed skin.

Stinging, tears welling, now finally remembering as all the pain slowly seeped in.

Numb, then done, that was it. So short, yet felt so good, so right.

Oh.

The vein.

A smile slowly took over his face as he took in what he had done. This was it. Nobody would have to think about him anymore, they could all live happily, without him.

His head was spinning, where was he? how would he know, why would he care, he didn't. vision going on and off, black to not and then back to black.

Get out.

No, let yourself go.

Please leave, they’ll help you.

They don’t give a single shit about you, it's not worth it.

What does water feel like?

Get. Out.

How do you use your legs?

Stay. Stay and die.

Save yourself, you can't breathe.

What would it feel like to be loved?

He would never know. Not anymore. His eyes glazed over, the last tear falling as he made one more attempt to smile. His body went limp, muscles weak and exhausted as a thud was heard when he dropped from his knees to lay still on the concrete floor.. His mind was in chaos.

Is this really what death felt like?

It was all so empty, but full. Thoughts scattered everywhere unorganized in his mind, chaotic.

He smiled, eyes locking onto the top corner of the room, a camera. He knew everyone was watching. He put it there, they could celebrate when they saw him dead through the screen.

“No!-”

Mountain’s broken sob and cry was the last thing Swiss heard through the thin walls of his once beloved ministry and home, before taking his last, deep breath.

[candywraptor]

hey, why did you delete the radiodust fic from Alastor's POV? the companion to Ruin

Hello.

Well. It isn't deleted, it's just orphaned. If you didn't have it bookmarked, you can still find it linked through Ruin (last chapter, all the way at the bottom).

I did it that way so that it could still be found and so that people who enjoyed it could still have it but I hated seeing it in my list of works, honestly.

(for those who may be reading this and don't know - Lesser Things was originally posted without the "bad ending" or "sad ending" tags that it currently has now)

After it ended, I couldn't really write anymore. I went from writing for hours and hours, nonstop, everyday - to nothing. I could start but then it would feel like pulling teeth trying to get words on the page. Very, very luckily for me I was impatient and blondes was started before Lesser Things ended. If not for that, I think I possibly would have stopped altogether. But the chapters I put out for blondes did not come easy and I wasn't happy with them - my voice wasn't there. At least not to me.

This went on for several months.

Many people checked in on me during this time and I am very, extremely grateful to them. And I'm pretty sure I said some degree of "at least I can still write!" to all of them but I believe I was, uh - coping? I guess? Because I couldn't - not like I used to and not with any real pleasure. I was so afraid to make a mistake that I wouldn't try at all. Or I would start writing and get flooded with thoughts of whether or not what I was writing was "right". Anything I could manage to force out was so wooden and lifeless to me. I had come to know what it felt like when my brain was moving at the right flow and it was like someone had completely dammed up the current. It was just empty.

And I dreaded seeing Lesser Things in my works. It was a constant reminder of a very big mistake*. Every time I got a notification about it, my anxiety did somersaults. What really kicked it over was that I began feeling distressed when someone would read or comment on Ruin. I wanted to tell them not to - because inevitably it would lead them to Lesser Things and I didn't want someone else to be disappointed with me or have Ruin damaged for them. It was tagged correctly by then, yes, but I still felt a very strong, irrational fear over it.

So, in an effort to get away from all of that and try to start over, I orphaned it. I wanted to delete it, I'll be honest, but I hate the idea of removing something someone might love from existence and my friends agreed that orphaning it was kinder. So I made sure it was linked and tagged and set it free.

It did not help for a long while.

But then I talked with this person in the comments of Ruin - I am still not quite sure who they were - and for once I told them that I was angry for what I had lost and upset that the hobby that brought me new life was seemingly gone from me. I deserved to be corrected for the tagging - I needed to know that fanfiction does not work the same way as a novel or TV show and that what I saw as a spoiler was incredibly important for many readers - but the rest. . .I didn't deserve that. I simply didn't.

And it felt good to not try to be diplomatic and to be upset and honest about my feelings. After that, a friend reached out and we spent some time discussing it, also. Talking about how I really felt, allowing myself to believe that I didn't deserve the hate - something in my head just let go.

Now I can write again - to my own personal standards. I can do it for hours and, even better, I enjoy it. I have so many ideas now - I've gone from nothing to too much! I am still not as prolific as I once was but I am writing and having fun and that matters more than anything else.

I jumped ship, too. I think most people know that. My feelings on RadioDust are complex and I am still not exactly sure how I feel even now. I don't like looking at it but I don't hate it. Maybe ask me in a week and I do. Maybe ask me in another week and I feel nothing at all. Maybe many weeks or months or years from now you can ask that question and I'll say that I love it again. Who knows.

Anyway. . .

I'm sure you weren't looking for a novella but, hey, it was a complicated question.

In short - it isn't deleted. If you want it, you can find it. And as for why - because it was fucking with my head and I needed my head unfucked. That's the simplified version.

(*the mistake in question is not the content of the ending. Lesser Things ended how it was intended to end and it will always be that way. Period.)

[ruiniel]

Dust of ages

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: T

Relationships: Alucard/Trevor Belmont

Characters: Alucard, Trevor Belmont

Count: 1.1k

Additional Tags: Awkward Tension, Castlevania Season 2, POV Trevor Belmont, Developing Relationship, confused feelings, The love is requited, They're just idiots, Unresolved Sexual Tension, from Ruiniel's chest of oldfics

Also on AO3

Summary:  Trevor Belmont and Alucard speak in the Belmont Hold. Set in early season II.

Trevor looked to see Sypha disappearing among the many shelves of the Belmont Hold. There was much work to be done, now they were here. His eyes narrowed as his attention shifted on the golden head of hair bent over one glass display, shielding various skulls of monster ilk.

That's right, vampires among them. Get used to it. 

This fucking character. Always so smug, so heroic, and as pretty as a virgin in a nunnery. And then there was the lovely matter of his legacy, too, though admittedly Trevor didn't envy him on that front.

Trevor Belmont trusted very few people, or better yet beings in the world, and the son of Dracula was (still) very close to the bottom of the list. This despite having fought together already, and despite knowing he would trust no one else, save for Sypha, in protecting his back when all seemed lost. But look at him, moving about with the grace of a stray cat on opium, so infuriating as he inspected his family's hoarded— ... his family's dutifully accumulated wealth of knowledge; that face, changing into the epitome of mild disgust.

"Enjoying yourself?" the hunter approached a squinting Alucard, who was yet enraptured in the study of a glass case. Trevor considered resetting that annoyingly perfect mug with a well-placed punch (an improvement, really).

"Hardly," the dhampir drawled, his gloved finger then feeling the dents in a weapon on another display. Golden eyes bore into blue as Alucard met his. "Is there something you want Belmont, or do you merely long for the pleasure of my company?"

Trevor rolled his eyes and grit his teeth, but instead of cursing and turning on his heel, the hunter found himself leaning against a shelf, not too far from the son of Dracula.

"You never shut up. I'm tired," he grumbled. If the toothy beast could stomp all over his nerves without remorse, then he ought to be obliged to listen, too. "Sick and tired," the hunter crossed his arms at his chest. Then, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Alucard asked, next filing through a large, yellowed manuscript. A curtain of golden hair fell over his face, and he frowned in brief annoyance before impatiently tucking the offending strands behind his ear.

A fucking dandelion, Trevor surmised, with something suspiciously close to pettiness. It was only when Alucard suddenly raised his head and met his eyes that Trevor Belmont realized he'd been staring. Here I am, not gawking at the vampire. He looked away. "How can you be so fascinated about what you yourself called, and I quote, 'a monument dedicated to the extermination of your people'?"

When amber eyes narrowed on him and that fanged mouth formed a grin, Trevor felt compelled to slam it off his face. 

"Are you baiting me, Belmont?"

Trevor shrugged, innocently enough. "Don't be such a sop. I'm asking. I'm really asking," the hunter offered in his most careless tone. And he was dying to know, in fact, but that was between him and his conscience.

That molten gaze was on him again. A warm, foreign sliver trickled along his spine; not quite pleasure, not quite pain. 

"I thought you were tired."

Trevor muttered inaudible nothings.

"It is quite impressive, I'll admit," Alucard surprised the hunter by answering his query. His face had become blank, but there was something cold and miserable about it. "All this is proof of the lengths humanity went to in order to protect itself."

Trevor closed his eyes in a frown. "Satan's balls. Are you a philosopher now, too?"

"You asked."

Trevor thought the lifeless inflection of those words was closer. The monster hunter opened his eyes to see Alucard crossing the space between them, and his limbs tensed as for battle. If anyone had told him that he, Trevor Belmont, would eventually be fighting alongside the offspring of Vlad Dracula Țepeș, they would have earned themselves an uppercut and something broken. But now...

God really does hate me.

Alucard stopped before the hunter who yet leaned irreverently against the shelf, his arms still crossed, his gaze now set on the floor.

Well, this was bothersome, Trevor thought. The tautness in him was spreading to his back and chest, and it was rather difficult to lift his head. When complete silence stretched for more than he could take the hunter lifted his gaze.

"What," he asked tightly, though his fingers twitched, wanting to reach, and to feel... what? His eyes went to the tome the dhampir held in his hand.

Alucard swallowed, or at least the hunter thought he had. 

Trevor was lost as to what scared him more: the impending battle with the lord of vampires, or the fact that his fucking son was reaching close to his face; still, his heart shouldn't be raging like this inside him. Despite having the Morning Star safely tucked at his belt, the hunter nearly jerked in a self-defensive burst when Alucard reached to replace the tome into the empty shelf space near Trevor's head. His hand lingered on the wood, his eyes set on the dusty floor between them.

Trevor couldn't look up; he heard uneven, smothered breathing. He felt rather than saw the rise and fall of the other's shoulders. He did nothing when long, pale fingers feathered over his unruly hair before ghosting the side of his jaw. Trevor tensed, drawn as tight as a bowstring. What the hell was happening—

As soon as the hunter felt it, the touch disappeared. Those same fingers curled into a fist, falling back to his side as Alucard opened his mouth to say something. But in the end, he never did.

Trevor wanted him to fuck right off and leave him be. This was not...

There was the pressure of a cold forehead against his; a warm scent. Very human. His hand gripped Alucard's arm, finding hard muscle; released him as if burnt. He wanted... He wanted...

He wanted.

For God's sake...  

"Alucard," Trevor managed, his voice cracking, eyes closing as he tried to still the hammering behind his ribs, the need flaring down his body. The back of his head struck the shelves as he pulled sharply away. Not happening, not fucking happening.

"Yes," came the resigned word, his golden head lowered.

"Do that again, and I will kill you," he shoved Alucard roughly aside, freeing his path as he staggered off.

They were here for something else, something else. He felt guilty; he felt elated, and uncomfortably, desperately roused. He was not sure which of them he dreaded more at this given moment. 

As the human stormed away Alucard remained, alone and still in his wake. He followed the hunter with his shaded gaze until he was lost among the dust of ages.

CASTLEVANIA SERIES (2017-2021) MASTERLIST

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[tumsa]

i didn’t plan to write more but my hand slipped. i blame @snailsweater​ for being so sweet in the tags, and maybe billie eilish a little bit for writing the 'i love you' song that ends me every time i hear it. and tumblr user kinnbig who talks about big and makes my poor little heart ache. my love language is writing random stuff in people's dms (or posts), and i am not even sorry.

- - - "You're an idiot," Chan says because the nurse is too polite to do that. Big's abdomen feels like it's been lit on fire, but the fresh dressing is stark white and sterile, and Big can recount all the things used to clean his wounds and how it happened. He thinks, hopes he can do it for Ken now.

"Sorry," he says because he cannot say, "I tore my stitches while cleaning the staircase so my neighbours don't freak out and call the police."

"What happened?" Chan, of course, asks. He does sound more worried than suspicious. It's the first time they've seen each other since Big got shot, since Big willingly took a bullet in hopes that Tawan could not destroy Kinn's life again. Big looks away before he encounters pity in Chan's gaze.

He doesn't know how to lie to Chan. It feels like lying to Kinn too much. It feels like walking on a tightrope made of razor blades.

"I want more time off," he finally says. It's not untruth, but it's not something Big would ever say. He never asks for anything, never wants anything other than protect Kinn, he expects Chan to shoot him just then and there.

But Chan just looks at him for a long time, then coughs, clears his throat and sounds almost choked up when he says: "You could have just asked, Big. You saved Porsche’s life, Khun Kinn will give you anything you want, kid."

Somehow it feels worse than a bullet for betrayal would have.

- - - Ken is asleep when Big returns. He is pale, almost lifeless, but his chest moves slowly with each inhale and exhale. He looks dead and still might die, Big knows. There might be internal bleeding, blood loss, infection. There might also be a bullet from Kinn or Vegas. Or Big might wrap his hands around Ken's throat and squeeze until there's no life left.

Don't let your emotions distract you from work, Chan would say, so Big unpacks everything and puts it on a plastic tray, on the mattress. He washes his hands with scolding hot water and soap that smells like the hospital and puts on gloves.

He works slowly to ensure he gets things right, and because his stomach still burns, even sitting on the floor next to the mattress feels like it's taking too much strength. One by one, with long pauses in between, Big cleans the gashes, wipes away the dried blood, and removes the makeshift dressing he did earlier from kitchen towels. He stitches up the more extensive wounds, trying to repeat the pattern he saw the nurse doing and mostly failing. They will scar horribly, he thinks before he remembers that Ken probably won't live that long.

He has to stop to drink water and take painkillers for his own wounds. He finds some protein bars that are not expired in a cupboard and eats one of them mindlessly. He starts to cry when putting on a new pair of rubber gloves; when he returns to the bedroom, and Ken still looks like a broken body with no life left in it.

"I hate you," he whispers as he struggles to put on the dressing around Ken's stomach and chest. He is heavy, and lifting him pulls at Big's stitches, and the bandage keeps slipping, and Big would punch him if there was a patch of skin not covered in cuts on Ken's body.

"I hate you so much," he says again, using a damp cloth to clean Ken's face.

"I wish I had never met you," when cleaning the incisions around Ken's cheek and eye.

"I hope you die," through more tears when Ken doesn't wake up and open his good eye.

- - - It's dark outside when Big wakes up. He lets go of Ken's wrist and turns on the small lamp on the floor next to the mattress. He never bought a bed or a nightstand table, and he never will now, not when he might not live until the end of the month.

Ken is awake. He is looking at Big, and his gaze looks hollow. Big gets the water bottle and painkillers he left beside the lamp. Ken takes the pills and lets Big give him water.

"If you want me to leave," Ken starts, and Big laughs. It's a bitter and nasty laugh, and Ken winces. Big is pretty sure Ken could not even get up from the mattress.

"If you pull the stitches," he says, because he spent hours patching Ken together, "I will call Vegas myself."

"As if you have his number," Ken says.

"But you do."

Ken looks away, and Big regrets being mean. He thinks about Kinn, how he got cold and vicious after he shot Tawan years ago, and how Kinn built a wall, leaving Big on the other side. He thinks about how Ken could always find a way to make Big laugh when Kinn scolded him for making mistakes. How Ken kissed him when Kinn wouldn't. How Ken-

"You need rest," he says, trying to sound less sour. They have never been gentle with each other; Big doesn't know how to be soft and kind. But he does know how to protect someone he loves. "Take the other pills, those are for infection. I'll get us some food."

He leaves the bedroom, pretending not to see tears on Ken's face, and closes the door behind him with a soft click. Not for the first time, he wonders how he got here, willing to take a bullet for the person behind the trigger.

Big takes a deep breath, then another. Food first, he thinks, then transport, money, and a safe place next. He will fall apart later when they escape the country, when Ken is safe.

He exhales and gets to work.

*smooches you on the cheek* i hope you have a lovely day!

- - -

"Who is the new guy?" 

Big regrets the question the moment it leaves his dumb mouth because Chan tilts his head and looks at him with knowing eyes. 

"Big," he says, and his voice is stern. His eyes are steely, and Big can feel them unravel everything he is trying to hide away; everything he promised wouldn't be a problem.

A few meters away from them, Kinn laughs so openly and joyously that it stings. 

Chan sighs and turns back to his tablet. Only when Big turns to leave he says: "His name is Tawan."

The way Kinn looks at Tawan makes Big sick. The way Tawan looks at Kinn makes an uneasy feeling crawl into Big's gut. 

- - -

"Who is the new guy?" 

The new guy is sitting at the edge of the pool and grinning. His dark hair is dripping water everywhere as he runs his fingers through them all pretend casual. He winks at Pete, whose record so far has been undefeated, and Big thinks he looks like a certified fuckboy.

"Ken," Arm whispers, quiet enough so Ken cannot hear them. And then, because Arm likes to gossip, he adds: "He's been staring at you all morning."

Big glances up and catches Ken's eyes on him. There is a pink flush on Ken's cheeks as he bites his lip and quickly looks away. 

"Cute," Arm says next to him, and Big bites the inside of his cheek to stop the stupid smile that wants to sneak onto his face. He feels warm. Nobody has ever looked at Big like that.

- - -

"Take the day off," Ken pleads again. He has argued about this all morning, talked about how Big needs a break, how he looks exhausted and how Ken knows he didn't sleep well. "Come on, mate, just today."

Big sighs. "I can't, not with Tawan being here."

"Please," Ken says in English, and it startles Big. Not the English, as Ken constantly swears in it, but the way Ken sounds distressed, the way he looks at Big with wide eyes, and the way his fingers are gripping Big's arm so tightly that there will be bruises. 

"Is everything okay?" Big asks because he knows he is missing something, something important. Ken is shaking as he lets go of Big's arm like it physically pains him to move his fingers, and then he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes, and he looks down before Big can see them.

"Forget about it. It's fine," Ken says, and his voice is raspy. "Just don't do anything stupid because of Tawan."

Big cannot guarantee that, so instead, he says: "I'll see you later tonight."

Later, when Big takes a bullet aimed at Porsche, he wishes he wouldn't have made a promise he couldn't keep.

Later, when Chan says, "Ken was working for Vegas", Big wishes Tawan was a better shooter.

- - -

Big's apartment looks as sad and pathetic as he feels. He doesn't spend time here more than once a month, doesn't share it with anyone, and never bothered to furnish it properly. He sits on the sofa and stares at the empty wall because there's nothing else to do, nowhere else for him to be. He feels hollow, wonders if the doctors put him back together wrong.

"Take a week off," Kinn has said, voice sincere and sad. "You deserve it."

"I should have known," Big had whispered, trying to hold back his tears, and wondered if that's how Tawan's betrayal felt. And then, because he couldn't stop thinking about it, he had said: "He wanted me to take a day off." Kinn had patted his shoulder awkwardly before leaving. 

Big wonders if he can just sleep for a week, if any of the painkillers can do that for him, or if he can get his hands on some sleep medicine or something.

The knock on the door startles him.

He gets up slowly. His stomach still hurts, and so does his arm. He leaves the gun on the coffee table. If anyone wants to kill him, Big thinks, he wouldn't mind. He opens the door.

Ken is bleeding. His face is purple and bruised, and one of his eyes is swollen shut. His shirt is soaked with blood, and it's dripping everywhere. He is trembling.

"I didn't know where else to go," he finally whispers, voice hoarse and broken.

Big feels like he is being shot all over again. He wants to slam the door close, he wants to get the gun he left behind and kill Ken himself. He wants to ask why, he doesn't want to know the answer, but mostly he just wants to pretend that nothing has changed, that everything will be alright. Slowly he moves and opens the door wider. 

"Come in," he says.

anon i am smooching you on the mouth i can’t believe you just dropped this masterpiece anonymously in my ask box i am emotionally devastated. come back pls i’m losing my mind?!

[meownotgood]

sense of control. / hayakawa aki

"have you ever had your finger bitten?"

pairing: control devil!aki x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

tags: 18+, suggestive content, aki is the control devil, teasing, corruption, power imbalance, stalking, the office scene from episode 5 but with aki

Aki brings his cigarette to his lips, taking a deep drag in, smoke filling his lungs, before tapping the cigarette over an ashtray on the desk. He tilts his head to the side to exhale the smoke away from you, and then he turns back to lean his tall frame over your shoulder. With his finger, he points to a space at the bottom of the sheet of paper in front of you. 

"Stamp here, and right here." 

You're nodding, swiftly following his instruction, but there's something about the way you're moving: it's much slower, much less energetic than usual. You've also refused to meet his eyes since you got here, just staring down aimlessly at the desk — Aki can tell, he noticed it from the moment you walked in. The Control Devil can always tell, and this simply won't do. 

Aki could immediately tell that something was up with you. This isn't the way you normally act with him. You're usually thrilled just to be in his presence, and you tend to perk up whenever he speaks to you; if you had a tail, it'd be wagging, is what Aki always says. 

Right now, though, you're sulking in your chair, your head hung, your expression flat and lifeless, as if you're lost in thought. It's clear there's something wrong, and Aki intends to get to the bottom of it, for the sake of your well-being and his own curiosity. 

The Control Devil has taken quite a liking to you since you started working at this division. You're obedient to a fault, easy to please, and for a human, you're remarkably interesting. There's something about you that makes him want to see more, know more, own more. It's a feeling he's never experienced, but he felt it even from the first time he met you, from when he first saved you from those devils. 

You should consider yourself lucky, Aki figures. Plenty of people have yearned to grow closer to him, to a lack of success. He doesn't trust easily, and he doesn't harbor fondness for anyone, really. You'd be the first. 

And it seems as if you've taken a bit of a liking to him, too. You're always following him at his heels, always ogling him, always keen to impress him. You practically glow at every word of praise he gives you. Honestly, you couldn't be any more obvious. 

Perhaps it's because he saved your life, or perhaps it's because you're respectful of his status — After all, there's a certain level of admiration people have to show to the lieutenant of the division, and to the strongest hunter in the prefecture. But your affection is… different. 

As the Control Devil, Aki's become used to using his power on anyone he wishes to be under his influence, but you? Aki has never had to use it, not even once. The admiration you have for him is something innate. You're obedient regardless, you're under his control, even when you aren't. Aki likes that about you. 

The way he can win you over without the need for any of his abilities — It makes Aki feel a kind of thrill, it's exciting. It'll be so fun to get you addicted to him, to make you see him and only him, just from his prowess alone. You'll be so good for him, Aki already knows it. 

You've always been easy to read, too, and that's another thing he likes, and that's why Aki is sure you're acting strange. After observing you for some time now, spending more and more time with you, understanding your emotions has only gotten easier and easier. 

The higher-ups have started to get on his ass about it. They're always complaining about how he keeps ditching his duties, and they've started to catch onto the fact that Aki spends a lot more time than he needs to with his certain favorite subordinate. 

They're your subordinates, not your pets. Don't get too attached, Hayakawa. 

If only they knew how obsessed he was already. 

"You're almost done with paperwork," Aki comments, breaking the silence and dragging himself out of his thoughts. He fiddles with the cigarette held between his fingers, smoke idly wisping up from the end. He continues, "The Bat Devil was your first big devil kill, so there's a lot of mandatory paperwork to sign. Next time, there won't be so much." 

There's no response from you. Aki eyes you up and down, rolling his shoulders back, and then he takes another long, slow drag from his cigarette. 

Through a mouthful of smoke, he asks, "There's something on your mind, isn't there?" 

At that question, you finally look up to him, meeting his eyes for the first time since you've sat down; his gaze is sharp, depths of deep blue swirled with bright, hypnotic rings. When those eyes are locked onto yours like this, he's damn near impossible to look away from, but when Aki points to a new section on the page and taps his finger against it, eye contact never breaking, you manage to tear your gaze away to turn back to your paperwork. 

You shrug, pressing your stamp firmly onto the page where Aki is pointing. It imprints a small, red signature of your initials written in Kanji. 

"I guess… kind of," You reply quietly, a little hesitantly, "It's just… Hayakawa-sir, you remember the party from last night, right?" 

Ah, the division's monthly drinking party. Aki had invited you a few days ago, figuring the party would be much more enjoyable if you were around, and it took place last night, at one of the local restaurants. 

Parties have never been his kind of scene. They're too loud, too busy, and there's far too many annoying, wasted people. No matter how much he drinks, Aki can never seem to get drunk, so he's never really seen the appeal. If he wasn't the division's leader, he probably wouldn't even bother showing up. He'd much rather stay home with his cats, or hell, he'd even prefer filling out a mountain of paperwork to this. It wouldn't be the first time he's used "urgent paperwork" as an excuse to get out of going. 

Maybe he'd understand this kind of thing if you were here, Aki thought. Maybe he'd actually enjoy himself. It'd be fun to drink with you. 

So, he decided to ask you to come. There wasn't a doubt in his mind about whether you'd show up, because he knows you, and he knows how you listen to whatever the hell he tells you to do. It wasn't a surprise when he saw you walk in; at 7 o'clock on the dot, too, the exact time Aki told you to arrive. God, you're so perfect. 

Of course he remembers the party. How could Aki forget, considering how he stared at you the entire night? He can't help it, he couldn't stop watching; Aki couldn't take his eyes off of the way you drink, the way you talk and laugh, the way your outfit seems to hug every part of your body just right. People always say they have a hard time looking away from him, and Aki thinks he finally understands what they mean. You're enchanting. 

And how would he not be able to recall how annoyed he was, how genuinely pissed he got when he saw his employees chatting you up? God, his fucking employees; they're too inferior to be trying to talk to you. It made Aki feel a certain kind of anger he hasn't felt in a long, long time. He isn't used to not getting what he wants. 

In the end, although he definitely enjoyed himself more than usual, it was still another bothersome night for him. Next time, he'll stick much closer to you. Aki didn't get many chances to talk to you himself, because every time he tried, he'd be distracted by this co-worker asking him to come take shots, or that co-worker pulling him away to drag him into the latest circle of gossip. By the time he was free, you were already whisked away by someone else. 

It was so irritating. He couldn't care less about any of these people. He just wants you. 

And next time, there won't be anyone to get in his way. Aki has already had some choice words with all of the morons that wouldn't leave you alone. 

It's funny. All he has to do is command them not to talk to you again, and with one sentence, with one look into his eyes, they're not only forgetting about everything they said to you, but they're also obeying him immediately, without a second thought in their heads. Humans are so simple. It's something Aki wishes you would understand. There's no reason for someone like you to be wasting your time with people like that, with people who aren't him. 

Aki glances away, and he tries to hide the tinge of annoyance on his face, he tries to stop the bridge of his nose from knotting up with stress. He replies, "Yes, I remember. What about it?" 

"It's, well, it's..." You stammer, staring up at him sheepishly. Aki can see from the corner of his eye how your expression morphs into embarrassment. He can hear how you're nervously tapping the end of your stamp against the wooden surface of the desk, the sound echoing around the quiet, empty library. Tap, tap, tap. 

Finally, you sigh, willing yourself to speak. "Last night, there was this guy, and I think he was from another division, 'cause I didn't recognize him. But anyway, we were talking all night, and then when we went to leave, he asked me if I would come home with him." 

Aki's back straightens. His heart pounds a little faster, his blood feels like it's boiling. He takes a nice, long drag in from his cigarette to keep himself calm. 

"I said no," You're continuing, and Aki feels a tiny sense of relief; only slight, but enough to make him feel like finally leaning forwards and stamping his spent cigarette out into the ashtray. 

"I'm pretty sure it was good for me to say no, I mean, we both had a lot to drink, and I didn't really want to… you know. But he seemed pretty annoyed by it, and he stopped talking to me after that, he just left. I didn't mean to upset him, but," You look up towards Aki, asking him, "Do you think I should have said yes?" 

Aki crosses his arms over his chest, and he turns to look out the window, just to give himself something to do. The sun is starting to set, casting columns of light into the room, illuminating the flecks of dust floating in the air. Traffic in the city below is bustling, people rushing to get home after they've just gotten off work. 

Fuck, how did someone like that slip past him? Aki kept his eyes on you for the entire night — No, wait. When everyone was starting to leave, he wasn't watching you for a bit. People kept coming up to him to say goodbye, or to thank him for paying everybody's tab, or to ask him if he's going to be busy next week. Aki ended up losing sight of you for a while, until he used his powers to watch you walk home. Goddammit. 

Aki's eyes narrow, and he drums his fingers against his arm. "No, you did the right thing," He replies. He's trying his best to keep his voice resolute, but either way, he doubts you'll notice the anger that lingers in his tone. 

"Stay away from that guy, he has bad intentions. He could get fired for something like that, you know. Do you remember what his name was? What he looked like?" 

"Really?" You shake your head, "No, sorry, sir. I think I had too much to drink. He was," You place your finger on your chin, thinking, "I can't remember his name, but I think he had brown hair? And I'm pretty sure he was from the second division." 

Brown hair, Division 2. Not a lot to work with, but Aki will find him. And when he does, losing his job is going to be the least of his worries. 

You're silent for a moment, before you say, "Sorry, we can get back to work now. I don't know why that was bothering me so much." 

"It's fine. It would upset me, too." 

It already has. It's already pissed him off plenty. Aki feels his face screwing up in anger, he's finding himself absentmindedly cracking the joints on his fingers. 

"Mmm, well," You turn back towards the desk, and you flip to the next page in the stack of papers. "I'm glad you think I did the right thing, at least. Some people can be so pushy, you know? I'd go back to his place with him if he just wanted to talk or something but… I guess I knew what he wanted. And I wasn't interested." 

Aki watches the cars below come to a uniform stop when the light turns red. "And why weren't you?" He asks, without even thinking twice. "Why weren't you interested, I mean. If you don't mind me asking. Was it just because of the drinking, or was there another reason? Were you not attracted to him?" 

"I mean, maybe. He was kind of cute. I just don't want to do something like that with someone unless… I don't know. It feels weird to think about doing it with someone I barely know. Is that stupid?" 

Aki huffs, "You're asking for my opinion again?"

"I like hearing your opinion, sir." 

There's a few seconds of silence as Aki thinks, carefully considering his options. His ringed eyes idly observe the city, his grip tightens on his arm. He takes a deep breath, in, then out, to relax himself. 

"It's not stupid," He answers finally, turning towards you. Once again, you're face to face with his mesmeric, deep stare. Deep enough to practically drown you, mesmerizing enough to keep you rooted in place and compelled to listen. 

"I agree with you. It's a waste to do those sorts of things with someone you have no feelings for. If you want to know how I feel-" 

Aki suddenly takes a step forward. His hand comes to rest on the back of your chair, he leans down to get closer to you. And when he abruptly swivels you in your chair to make you face him, you drop your stamp in surprise. It rolls on the desk until it falls off the edge, hitting the floor. 

"I think," Aki's voice is low, sultry. Resolute, but teasing, almost. It makes your stomach flip, your chest tighten. His eyes stay locked onto yours as he carefully grasps your wrist, his thumb rubbing lazy circles into your skin. 

"I think inappropriate things feel better the more you know your partner." 

"I- You-" You're trying to speak, trying to say something, but the words keep getting caught in your throat, your lips won't stop quivering. He's close, he's so damn close right now — Hayakawa is so close, and it makes you feel like you can hardly breathe, let alone say any words. You can smell the lingering scent of his rich cigarettes, the smell of his fancy cologne. 

Aki swallows before he continues, his voice breathy, "Do you understand? Or would you like me to show you what I mean?" 

"I'm-" You gulp, and your words are trembling, but you still manage to nod your head and stutter out, "Y-Yeah, show me."

"Well, you said it'd be weird to do it with someone you hardly know. It takes a lot of time to understand what's in someone's heart, so, you'll start by observing them." 

Aki glides his hand up from your wrist, all the way up to your palm. His fingers coax your own to unfurl, and when your hand is open, he presses his own against it until you're palm to palm with him, hand flat. "You'll study their hands," Aki says, "Are they large, or small? Cold, warm? How long are their fingers?" 

His hand is huge compared to yours, the shape of his thick fingers eclipsing your own from where your hand is pressed against his. He makes your hand look so, so small. His palms radiate a comforting sort of heat, and his fingers fold over your hand, interlacing tightly with yours. 

You're holding his hand, your hand in Aki's — Your palm is warm, and the realization makes your entire body start to feel hot, too. 

Aki gives you a gentle squeeze. Your hand feels so damn tiny in his own, you're so small compared to him — He hopes you don't notice the way his breath hitches as he grips you tightly. Slowly, he drags your arm up, 'til your fingers are able to meet his ear. 

"How are their ears shaped?" He's asking, and he's guiding your thumb to feel out the shape of his ear, the ridges and dips. Then, he's bringing you a little bit downward, so that between both your fingers, you're fiddling with his circular, metal earring. 

Your breath is starting to get caught in your throat. Aki brings your hand to his lips, and he just barely presses them to the pad of your thumb. They feel soft, a little chapped, and his breath is warm on your skin when he starts to speak. 

"Have you ever had your finger bitten?" 

The setting sun reflects light in Aki's eyes, it casts his face in a shadowy glow. You hastily shake your head in response. Your face feels hot, your hand is starting to shake. Aki grips it tighter to keep it steady. 

Aki mutters, his voice barely more than a whisper, "Remember how it feels. I want you to remember it, so if anyone else does this, you'll be thinking of me." 

Your eyes widen, then they flicker down to fixate on his lips; you watch as they part, staring as he takes the tip of your thumb into his mouth. His teeth close around it, biting down ever-so gently. His tongue lays flat on the underside of your finger, just barely brushing against your skin. 

The clock on the wall ticks, and ticks. Aki bites down a little harder, his expression unreadable. You exhale a long, shaky breath. 

Finally, Aki drags your thumb out of his mouth, your skin slightly damp from his saliva. His lips press to your fingertip in an almost-kiss, before he asks, "Did you memorize it?" 

His voice breaks you from your trance, and your gaze immediately flicks back to meet his eyes. You nod and nervously reply, "Yeah, y-yeah. I did." 

Aki memorized it, too — The shape of your thumb, the hazy look in your eyes, the delicious taste and the intoxicating smell of your skin. He has to memorize it. He wants to know more of you, after all. There's no way he'd ever forget this. 

He keeps his firm grip on your hand, squeezing it gently. His breath is the slightest bit shaky, and his eyelids are drooping, the black of his pupils beginning to swallow the circles of rings in his iris. 

There's a moment of silence between the two of you. Your stamp has long since stopped rolling on the floor, the cars outside are no longer honking in the rush hour traffic. You can only hear the sound of your breathing and his, and the echo of your heartbeat as it pounds in your ears. Just as you swallow the lump forming in your throat, just as you're expecting him to pull away from you, Aki's fingertips brush over your knuckles, and he starts guiding your hand again. 

This time, he's leading it down, down, down, his eyes still locked onto yours, his deep gaze never wavering. Down past his chest, past where his suit jacket is neatly buttoned around his stomach, past his hips and past where his belt sits in the loops of his slacks. All the way down, until your hand is right between his legs, until he's pressing your palm down on his groin, until you can feel the shape of his… 

He's so warm, so thick; Aki guides you to softly squeeze his cock through his slacks, and he utters a quiet groan, his eyelashes fluttering. A heavy look of lust settles behind the rings of his eyes, and his hips shift back to give your arm more room. 

You're fondling him now, feeling how the smooth fabric of his slacks hugs his bulge, feeling the way his dick throbs to a gentle rhythm. He's getting stiffer the longer you touch him, his breath is getting sharper, his expression is growing softer; he looks desperate. And he isn't even fully hard, but he's still so fucking big, so thick and so, it's so — 

The reality of what's been happening suddenly hits you like a freight train — What are you doing, what the hell were you just doing? You're gasping, stumbling back in your chair; it gives under your weight, and you end up falling to the floor, your back hitting the hardwood with an embarrassingly loud thud. 

"Oh, shit-" Aki stands up straight, and in a worried tone of voice, in a tone that sounds completely unaffected by what was just happening mere moments ago, he's asking, "Are you okay? Do you need me to help you up?" 

You're unable to reply, averting your eyes and breathing hard, pushing yourself up to a sitting position and covering your face with your hand. Aki cocks his head at you, before he takes a few steps forwards and kneels down, nice and close. 

His knees are situated on either side of your waist, and he's positioned directly above you, his bangs falling to frame his face. He's close enough that he can examine your embarrassed look, close enough that he can hear your breathing, and close enough to grasp your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him. There's a curious, teasing sort of expression on his face now, his mouth tugged into the slightest shape of a smirk. 

You're adorable, absolutely adorable. You're staring up at him expectantly, desperately, waiting for him to make a move, your breath expelled in short pants, your gaze flickering from his eyes, to his parted lips. 

You're too easy. Aki didn't need to use a single drop of his power, and yet he's certain you've already forgotten all about that idiot from the night before. All you're thinking about is him, just as Aki intended, just as he knew you would. 

Aki leans forward. His face is so close, his lips are mere centimeters away from colliding with yours. His breathing is slow and steady. 

"Aki…"

The way your sweet voice murmurs his name, his first name against his lips almost makes him change his mind. It almost has Aki considering telling you something different from what he planned, it almost has him pushing all the paperwork off the desk in a heap so he can bend you over and take you right then and there. Almost. He's more patient than he appears, and this isn't the right time or the right place for him to have you. Not for the first time, anyways. 

So, he decides to listen to his better judgment. Aki pulls apart from you until he can meet your gaze, and in a stern tone, he commands, "Come on, get up. We need to finish working." 

With his palms pressed to his knees, Aki pushes himself up. He extends a hand to you, and although you hesitate at first, you eventually, nervously take it, allowing Aki to grab you and pull you to your feet. You push your chair back up, you grab your stamp from the floor. The chair squeaks when you sit back down, and you swivel towards the stack of paperwork on the desk. 

Aki leans his back against the window and crosses his legs at the ankles. In the corner of your eye, you see him shoving his hand in his jacket pocket. He pulls out his sky-blue lighter, then his pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his teeth, and striking the wheel of the lighter to expertly bring it to life.  

He inhales: a nice, long drag. Then, he exhales, breathing smoke up towards the ceiling. The rich, familiar smell of his cigarettes begins to fill your lungs, settling your mind. 

For a moment, you briefly wonder if he's going to bring up what just happened at all, or if he's planning on forgetting about it, but before you can go back to your work, his voice suddenly breaks the silence. It puts those questions to rest, and sparks another white hot fire in your heart. 

"I want to leave early tonight," Aki says, fidgeting with his cigarette. "If you can finish your paperwork by eight, I'll reward you. Do we have a deal?" 

thanks @gal-in-blue for infecting me with control devil aki brain worms, ily

[jeonjcngkook]

try sleeping with a broken heart | myg (m)

➵ pairing: yoongi x female reader

➵ genre/au: lovers to exes, riddled with angst, smut

➵ wc: 15.7k

➵ summary: love is such a tainted thing. just because people say that they love you doesn't mean they really do. maybe once upon a time you really did love yoongi. but in the cold, dead, still of the days, you're reminded that love is now merely a myth between you both and you need to escape from it as fast as you can.

➵ warnings: no happy ending, funeral, heavy mentions of grief, depression (although not specifically stated, its behaviourally evident), post break up conversations, talks of breaking up, alcohol consumption, broken family, broken marriage, divorce, mention of character death (child - read at ur own risk), passing comments of ocs caesarean section scar, conversations about past infidelity, broken hearted yoongi

➵ smut warnings: kissing, biting, love bites, hair pulling, fingering, nipple pulling, nipple biting, spanking, oral (f rec), light petting (m rec), asphyxiation, spitting kink, use of a belt for wrist restraints, squirting, clit biting, protected sex, unprotected sex, yoongi crying when having sex

➵ note: this is my submission for the Anti-Romance Club collab hosted by @astramoonchild & @rockwithwoo. banner by @hobeemin. betaed by @sugakookitty @kth1, @hobeemin, @jessikahathaway​

➵ note 2: tumble kept removing this story any time i added tags, so now that im back from my holiday, im adding them in now.

“Welcome to the anti-romance club, a place dedicated to those who have had enough of hopeless romantics and happy endings. Come and join us to show the angsty side of love, the sorrow and melancholy. We want to bring the heartache this Valentine's Day because sometimes love hurts.”

masterlist | playlist | feedback

When you experience loss for the first time, you are never told how to prepare. When you experience loss for the first time, you’re never told how to, not only, handle it yourself but also handle those around you. The grief is uncontrollably tangible. It finds the smallest cracks and seeps through, filling any empty space it finds, and then eventually it completely takes over until it is all you know.

Then comes the funeral. Where countless faces of friends, family members, and peers all gather together to share and sympathise their loss. Yet it all feels so meaningless and does next to nothing to soothe the hearts that have been shattered by devastation. The only person there to mutually share your heartbreak is Yoongi. 

In the midst of a sullen grey drizzle that seems to have taken over the whole city that day, Yoongi was the only ray of sunshine among grey clouds to hold not only your hand but your broken hearts throughout the service. He didn't say anything, though, and he didn't need to. You both feel the same way. Words are futile and wasted. But in all honesty, he doesn’t need to say anything, because words don't mean anything. Not anymore.

The worst part of it all are eulogies. They simply do nothing to soothe and aid the emotions of those standing closest to grief. Eulogies end up being empty words and even emptier promises of staying in touch with the bereaved. They serve no other purpose other than to satisfy and fill in time of a formalised event that happens at funerals whilst others let tears freely flow down their cheek, wishing that it would end.

But it never truly ends.

The casket is closed, something that you and Yoongi can only be thankful for. Right? Maybe it is better that way? Maybe not seeing the face of your lifeless daughter on what can only be described as the day that no parent ever imagines going through. And though you and Yoongi cry, you both clutch at each other in front of those nameless faces for the sake of comfort.

Why? Why, of all people, did it have to be your baby girl? The one who brought joy and light to so many people's lives with a single smile. The same smile you would see every single day from her doting father. As you and Yoongi have iron clad grips on each other in the front row of the service, for a moment you will yourself to believe that there is indeed a God, so you can thank them for taking her pain away and bringing your baby girl peace.

In the end, though, you and Yoongi are chauffeured back to your own house, miserable and quite literally drained of life.

It doesn’t feel right calling it home anymore. A home is meant to be filled with joy. A home is meant to be filled with love, and yet this home is so empty and cold and void of any happiness.

When you experience loss for the first time, there is no handbook on how you should mourn. Do you accept the pain or do you simply let it fester inside of you and allow it to consume you wholly? How do you adjust to living in a world without the one you have sorely lost?

And when all is done and when the coffin is laid in the ground, the people around you suddenly disappear to get on with their own lives. They venture off home to hold their own children close, embracing them closely as they push you and your broken family to the back of their own minds - wishing and praying that they never endure the same pain you have.

Nevertheless, it’s you that’s left in a state of numbness. The loss is acknowledged but yet life just… Continues.

Knowing that you’re never going to see your daughter smile, or hear her sweet giggles as she dances around the living room in pink tulle dresses and plastic tiaras on her head does nothing but tear your heart and leaves you shattered from the inside out.

You’re never going to be able to watch her grow up and live life in what was such a beautiful world before she left. Her first day at pre-school where you’ll never know if she’ll cling onto the legs of her parents and beg them not to leave them or let go of your hand with confidence and never look back, for her to come home afterwards and share with you and Yoongi her stories about the friends she made on her first day.

You’re never going to watch her fall in love for the first time and be absolutely smitten with them and you’re never going to be able to see her experience her first heartbreak, where she’ll cry and cry and cry and beg for her father not to hurt the person who shattered his little girl's heart. There will be no experience of her blowing out the candles of her sweet sixteen birthday cake, going to prom, or getting married.

It’s all been taken away from you.

It’s not the same. It never would be. The absence consumes every room. The warmth that had once enveloped both yourself and Yoongi in your bedroom had turned frigid and meaningless, waking up to usually an empty bed as he would disappear for work earlier than you would wake up.

Granted, when you woke, it would still take you hours to attempt to leave your bed and do something other than wallow in your own feelings. The thought of filling your days with small activities to pass time and purposeless chatter with others who teeter and walk on edges around you isn’t something you want to throw yourself into. Even in your own house, kitchen conversations over hot sweet coffees turned into a dull silence filled with bitterness.

This morning is not any better as you lay in bed on your own, clutching at the blanket and pulling it towards your face to blanket yourself from the world outside you. You lie there for what seems like forever as you stare up at the ceiling completely void of any emotion. Rubbing your stinging eyes and wince at the raw skin underneath your eyes as you attempt to remove the remaining droplets of stray tears that had woken you up from your restless slumber.

Getting out of bed is always hard. That initial feeling of your toes touching the cold hardwood flooring always makes you shiver, and today is no different. You grab at the bathing gown you keep hanging on the back of your bedroom door and saunter along the hallway of the upper house, stopping short as you reach the closed door of Mi-Cha’s bedroom.

Your hand grips the handle of the door and you lean your forehead against the white wooden opening for a brief moment before pulling on the lever and letting the door swing open in front of you.

The absence of life in the room is palpable. You take in the periwinkle and white stained walls that had taken you and Yoongi months to decorate. From picking out colours, furniture, toys, paintings, and murals — happy memories are now overshadowed by sorrow.

You step into the room and let your feet sink into the plush grey carpet as you find yourself standing over the little single princess bed with the white light up string lights attached that she held the biggest fuss for. You chuckle for a split second as the images of Mi-Cha sulking in the arms of her father consumes your mind. Mi-Cha hated the dark and would never fall asleep without her little yellow star shaped lights on and her daddy next to her bed reading a bedtime story to drift her off to sleep.

You sit down on the white comforter and pick up the tiny pillow and bring it up to your nose, inhaling and finding the faintest of scents of her strawberry shampoo that you and Yoongi would bathe her in. Your arms wrap around the Egyptian cotton and you close your eyes, letting your mind take you away and flutter down memory lane all over again.

The pitter patter of small feet on the mahogany wood floors and the sound of sweet giggles resonates throughout the living room as you sit at the kitchen island and sip on your sweetened coffee; The sound of your daughter's laughter is like a choir of melodic angels as Mi-Cha has her daddy playfully rolling around and pinned to the floor as he tickles at her sides, prompting the beautiful sounds.

Your daughter lifts her eyes towards you and gets up from Yoongi's lap, making her way over to you. She begs for your attention with grabby hands up, silently asking you to bring her into your lap, and so you do exactly that, attaching her to your hip and allowing her to snuggle into your neck.

Mi-Cha was the spitting image of her father. Her brown eyes held the same warmth Yoongis did. The kind that draws you in and has you instantly wrapped around her tiny fingers. Her pale skin is delicately painted with rosy hues from the laughter leaving her lips and a tiny smile which is a true replica is one that grows and thrives like flowers in spring.

“Mommy,” your darling daughter coos, “do you know how much daddy loves you?”

You stare at Yoongi and watch as his skin flushes a light hue of pink at your daughter's question.

Mi-Cha moves her head out of your neck and places her hand on your cheek, replicating the touches that Yoongi places on her own cheek from time to time. “He tells me he loves you lots all the time. And me!” She smiles.

You can’t help but get out of your chair with Mi-Cha in your arms and find yourself sitting beside Yoongi on the floor, loosening your little girl in your arms, allowing her to waddle out of your hold. You turn towards Yoongi and place a tiny kiss against his jaw. 

“Does he really?”

Mi-Cha falls back into the arms of her doting father and taps his nose and both his cheeks before giving him a peck on his cheek, ignoring your question. It really is like that sometimes. Mi-Cha was the biggest daddy’s girl. And Yoongi takes it all in, allowing her to wrap him around her dainty little fingers, spoiling her to no end.

Yoongi turns to you and presses his lips against your own sweetly. “Always, my love,” he confirms. Looking back at the little human in his arms, you watch as his eyes glimmer like stars. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here.”

The memories of the three of you together never seem to get any easier. It’s like they live to taunt you. Everything in this house is a constant reminder of what you don’t have and won’t have anymore. Tears come thick and fast as your mind is plagued by pictures of her face. You crawl off the bed and slump yourself to the side, keeping your back pressed against the structure of the furniture and tuck your legs into your chest. The trembling of your limbs is barely noticeable to you anymore as anger and denial consumes you whole. Your head falls against your knees as quick and painful breaths get caught in your throat.

Scanning the room around you, you take in your surroundings in more detail. Neither you or Yoongi had it in you to move any of the personal items that had belonged to your tiny toddler, opting to keep it as is. Is that healthy? You’re not sure. Then again, none of this is healthy, you try and tell yourself. 

The photograph that sits upon her dresser of the three of you huddled together on top of a picnic blanket catches your eye and you can’t help but smile as you look at the smile on all your faces. Admittedly, you feel like this is all a cruel game. Someone tugging your heart out of your chest and leaving it to burn on an open flame. 

It brings a twist to your stomach, paired with sickness and bitter tears all over again. A never ending cycle of misery and despair. ‘Sometimes the most beautiful things in life just can’t be touched’, is what you’re told by those around you. You didn’t understand what that meant until you lost Mi-Cha.

You scoff to yourself, finding it sickly amusing that it is you that has been handed this card. With one last wipe of the tears on your face, you get up from the ground and exit the room, mentally making the decision that you need to get out of the house.

Pacing around the hallways with empty thoughts becomes the new normal for you. There is nothing in this house that brings you any type of merriment. The wooden structure of your once shared bedroom door stands tall above you, doing its job in aiding you in the heartache of seeing the leftover possessions of Yoongi.

Cracking open the door, your eyes immediately dart to the bed. It’s still unmade from the last time you found Yoongi breaking his vow he had made to you as he piledrove his feelings into his secretary as you stood in the doorway and watched. So much for ‘for better or for worse’.

At a quick pace, you wander into the cold room and clutch at some clothes while making a mental note to start moving your belongings into the spare room you now occupy.

The undesirable smell of stale cigarettes, cheap alcohol, and body odour fills the establishment as soon as you walk in and take in your surroundings. The bar is next to empty considering it is the middle of a working day. You find a deserted stool where the bar top is and decide to take a seat and order a drink. The woody cedarwood tabletop is sticky with spilt beer, it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant place to be around.

The feeling of a vibration hums from your handbag and you pull it out to find a message from nobody important. You aimlessly scroll through your phone at anything and everything, finding something to keep you entertained. Bored, you decide to open your texts again and scroll until you find Yoongi’s contact.

The bartender hands you your drink and you drink a generous sip. Your face screws up as the liquor burns as it trails down your throat. You look back at your phone and let your fingers press on Yoongi’s name. Navigating your way through the threads of messages, your eyes sting at the words you share with each other.

You keep scrolling through and stumble upon the ending months of your pregnancy with your beloved daughter. Taking another copious sip of the bitter alcohol, you read through sweet words from Yoongi. Sharing ‘I love you’s’, ‘please rest’, ‘I can’t wait to come home and look after my two girls’, the list goes on.

“You’re deep in thought,” the deep, gravelly voice of the bartender rips you away from memory lane. “You’re going to need another one of those if it’s getting you that upset.”

Tiny tears had passed your lashes and dripped onto your cheek without you noticing until the bartender had pointed it out to you. Nodding, you accept his offer to pour you another and you drink down the rest of your first drink before scrolling all the way back down until you’re back at the last message sent between the two of you.

June 8th

7.32pm [yoongi] : im sorry.

Locking your phone, you place it screen down against the wood and take another drink, throwing your head back at the distaste. It’s useless leaving your phone there face down, it's only taunting you to pick it up again. Picking it up, you’re about to place it back into your handbag, away from prying eyes before the large manilla envelope pokes out the top.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you’re once again opening up your cell. Your fingers click onto the textbox and begin typing but nothing sounds right. It’s a back and forth journey of typing and erasing the text over and over again. In the end, you think it’s best to keep it short and to the point.

November 21st

2.34pm [you] : yoongi, we need to talk.

Not even a moment goes by and the ringtone of your phone goes off and you see a response from Yoongi.

2.34pm [yoongi] : ____, is this really you?

2.34pm: who else would it be?

2.35pm [yoongi] : nobody. im just surprised to hear from you, that’s all

2.35pm [you] : nobody is as surprised as me, yoongi. send me your address, im on my way.

This is it. Now is the time. Except there is no right time, there’s never a right time to do what you’re about to do. But it needs to be done. Swallowing the last of your drink, you gather your belongings and head for the exit.

The address Yoongi has given you isn’t too far from where you are currently, so you pull your jacket over your shoulders and begin walking, letting the droplets of rain spit down from the sky and onto your skin.

It only takes fifteen minutes to reach his apartment complex, the drizzle now turning into a rainstorm. Typical. Yet, you don’t move. You stand at the opposite side of the street and look up at the tall building, your feet unwilling to move as you stand outside letting the pouring rain soak through your clothes.

You watch people around you in the busy street as feet slam through the wet asphalt, causing splashing as people around you race to find some shield from the torrential downpour that suddenly took over the once blue sky. The air is cold and humid and sticks to your skin, evoking a shiver to course down your body.

Your feet finally drag themselves across the blackened cement towards the entrance of the complex. You're greeted by an elder gentleman who seems to be in charge of the building as he helps usher you inside to the warmth and out of the coldness of the rain outside.

You look around the foyer of the building and can’t help but take in the sight of it all. It’s definitely more upmarket in comparison to your own home. Somewhere that is made of money, and a part of you is a little speechless that Yoongi has found himself here while you’re the one left wallowing in pain in your house.

You realise that the gentleman was staring at you, expecting a response from you as if you hadn’t just spent the last few minutes zoned out.

“Sorry, what?” You ask.

He chuckles, assuming that you’re the bashful type, and for him, you play along. “I asked if you’re here to visit someone?”

Hesitantly, you nod your head and give him the name.

Momentarily, the gentleman leaves and returns just as quickly with the apartment number and level you would find it.

You thank him and head towards the escalators. You can’t turn back now because then you’d look ridiculous.

Pressing the number of the floor, you wait for the elevator to come back towards the reception foyer. Sickness washes over you at the thought of seeing Yoongi again after spending so long apart with no contact. Your mind wanders and you wonder if he’s changed at all. Physically or personally. You wonder if he is as broken up as you. You wonder if she’s going to be with him when you get there. If maybe he’s been with her this whole time and has completely left you and the misery behind in his past.

You’re broken from your thoughts as the doors open in front of you. It’s now or never. Stepping inside, you watch as the doors close and you press the button for his floor.

Leaning against the railing, your hands grip the cool metal as you take a breath in and out. Repeating the steps over in your mind until the doors open once more signalling your departure from the elevator.

You knock on the door with the lightest of knocks, now completely unsure if this is something you’re prepared for. You wait and there doesn’t seem to be an answer. You think about walking away - this is your signal that maybe this isn’t such a good idea. But before your feet can shift you back in the direction of the exit, the sounds of a chain shifting on the other side of the door and a lock being twisted are heard before the door is pulled back to reveal Yoongi on the other side.

The sight of him catches you more off guard than you had anticipated. Your heart picks up and thunders against your chest as you take him in. He hasn’t changed whatsoever since the last time you had seen him and you’re unsure if that’s a good thing or not. Sure, his eyes are darker than usual and his face looks a little sunken but other than that, he still looks like your Yoongi.

Without saying a word, Yoongi stands to the side to allow the door to open further, inviting you inside.

You take in your surroundings of Yoongi’s new place, silently looking around for other signs of life in the apartment. The door clicks shut behind you, cutting you short of your findings. However, it seems that Yoongi is aware of what you’re up to.

“Nobody else lives here,” he huffs.

“Hm,” is the only response you find in yourself without barking at him. Afterall, you’ve always been taught that if you have nothing nice to say, you say nothing at all.

“It isn’t just someone living here,” you mutter to yourself under your breath.

You notice that the living room and kitchen area are open planned as you continue walking around. Placing your bag on the countertop, you find a seat at the breakfast island and sink into it with your back facing Yoongi, impressed with yourself that you’ve made it this far.

Yoongi is back in your line of sight as he walks to the other side of the kitchen island and leans his back against the sink with his arms closed. He keeps his eyes on the ground, not being able to look you in the eye, none of you wanting to be the first to break the silence.

“Did you only come here to stare at me, ____?”

You bitterly smile at his words, the alcohol from earlier fuelling your courageousness. “It’s bold of you to assume that I would want to stare at you in the first place. Why? Did your piece on the side not give you enough attention?” You laugh.

Yoongi’s nostrils flare at the mention of his infidelity yet left at a loss for words at your sharp tongue. This isn’t who he remembered you to be but on the other hand, he isn’t surprised at all after everything you have been through. You are bound to be a little more on the defensive side and he blames himself to be a part of that reason.

“I didn’t let you in here to belittle me and bring up my past mistakes. I’m at least trying to move on from it. Trying to give you the space you need, like you asked for.”

The smile leaves your face just as quick as it came as he reminds you why he’s here in this apartment rather than the home you used to share together. He’s right though — he’s here because you told him to leave.

You hum again. “It’s a nice place you’ve got yourself here.”

“Speaking of permanent,” you start. You take a deep breath and let the following words that have been dancing on your tongue for the last few months leave your mouth. “I want a divorce.”

The silence that fills the room is concrete. You watch as Yoongi’s eyes widen, the hope of any reconciliation with you vanishing to be replaced by devastation and hurt. It takes him a few moments to gather his thoughts before responding to you.

“A divorce? What, so that’s it? You’re not even going to try and fix this? Don’t we both deserve better than that?”

Standing strong by your decision, you shake your head at his argument.

"I can't even bear to look at you anymore, Yoongi. What makes you think this can be patched up, fixed and forgiven?"

“You don’t mean that, baby. Mi-Cha wouldn’t want this. She would want us to work thr-,”

“No.” You’re quick to cut him off. “No Yoongi. You don’t get to call me that anymore and you certainly don’t have any right to bring up my daughter, not after what you did. There's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. I want this divorce. I can't deal with this, with you, any longer."

At the mention of Mi-Cha, you notice Yoongi’s fist clench and nails dig into the palm of his hand in a desperate attempt to snap at the insinuation of her not being a part of him just as much as you.

“____, I know I messed up, b-but a divorce? C’mon, you’re not thinking clearly.”

You crack a sarcastic laugh at his words. “Yoongi, I have never thought more clearly. After everything that has happened since we lost Mi-Cha, you were so absent. Even when you were around, you were never around. Where were you when I needed you the most?” You raise your voice, all the built up emotions from not seeing Yoongi the last few months now finally surfacing.

Yoongi looks down, a look of defeat written across his face. It’s heart wrenching to see someone you’ve loved for most of your adult life look so helpless but putting his feelings aside for just a moment, this is what needs to be done.

“Come on now Yoongi, let’s be realistic here. Aren’t you tired of this continuous back and forth between us?” You question.

It was Yoongi’s turn to snort. Your words light a small fire within him, enough to give him the courage to approach you in the kitchen and pull out a bottle of single malt whiskey and two crystal whiskey glasses from his liquor cupboard. “How,” he pauses and laughs, “can I be tired of something when I haven't heard from you in five months, ____, huh? Don’t I get a say in this?”

He finishes pouring the drinks into the two glasses and slides the second your way, the scratching of the crystal on the marble surface ringing loudly in the air.

“You left me and you didn't even think twice about it, and now you’re asking for a say in this? That’s funny.” You deadpan as you take a sip of the nippy drink. You never did have a taste for whiskey but you reckon you’re going to need all the liquid encouragement you can get for this conversation. “You hurt me, and I just can’t forgive that. What is so difficult to see about this?” 

Yoongi tries to stay calm through your onslaught of words. His fist holding his beverage begins to tighten as his grip turns white, “Oh, don’t condescend me about being hurt, ____. It took two people to break this marriage, not just me.”

It was your turn to grip tightly at the crystal glass as you raise it to your lips and take a generous amount into your mouth. His words are spiteful and bitter. Enough so to leave a pain so deep that it almost makes the taste of the alcohol pleasurable.

“You’re right. You and that slut of a secretary who got your dick wet in our forever home. There’s your two people,” you scoff. Your chest begins to tighten at the thought of it all. Mi-Cha’s death and Yoongi’s unfaithfulness all hit you all over again all at once, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over you. You reach out for the counter and lay your hands across the cool top. Your head falls forward as you try to control your breathing. "Why couldn't you feel what I do, I jus-,” you struggle to finish your sentence. Your voice cracks half way through your sentence as your resolve begins to fall apart.

“What do you mean ‘why can’t I feel what you feel’? Losing our daughter is the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with. I needed you and you fucking pushed me away so don’t come to me with that bullshit,” Yoongi lashes out as anger takes over.

You manage to control your breathing enough to straighten yourself out and stare Yoongi in the eyes. “Why’d you do it?”

The question catches Yoongi off guard as his eyes widen and he stares at you with an open mouth, but no words come out. 

“I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that you had sex with one of your employees in our home. In our bed. In the bed that you touch me in. I’m your wife," you snarl. Every syllable that leaves your lips increases in volume until you feel like your lungs are moments from giving out. “You want me to just let you come crawling back into my house and just act as if nothing ever happened? Yoongi, I can barely look at you, and when I can finally muster up the courage to, I can’t look at you for too long because then all I see are the facial expressions as you fucking jackhammer some twenty year old in our bed.”

In a desperate attempt to stop the words from leaving your mouth, Yoongi grabs the first thing in front of him, and hurls it across the opposite side of the room you're both standing in. The sound of the expensive glass shattering against the stone wall fills the air.

“Okay, fine.” It was your turn to flinch as Yoongi raises his voice to match your own and slams his hand against the marble counter. “I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear? That I fucked up? Do you think I’m not aware of that?” Fuck ____, I fucking know. I live with what I did every single day.” Stopping, he turns away from you and extends his arms out to lean against the cold marble worktop. “But you know what ____? It wasn’t just you that was hurting when Mi-Cha passed away. I was fucking hurting too.”

The tears that have gathered at your lash line are falling freely listening to your husband. His words burn into your skin like a red hot iron blistering your skin.

Yoongi feels his resolve breaking as he looks at you, his once bright eyes now dulled by grief. “I lost a child too, ____. She was my daughter too.” His voice shakes as he gathers the last of the courage he has left. “She died, and I couldn’t protect her like I am meant to do. Like fathers are meant to look after and protect their daughters." He runs his hands through his hair and pulls at the strands hard, tears forming in his eyes. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, blinking faster than normal as he chokes back a sob. The nausea in his stomach creeps further up at the loss of his only child.

A stray tear escapes and runs down his pale face as he stares at you once more. He curses and carries on. “But you are so caught up in your own grief, that you couldn’t even see that we —,” he points back and forth between the two of you, “ — we were breaking!” Yoongi snarls at you.

The silence between you both was speaking more volume than words themselves. Tearing your gaze from your husband, your eyes zone in on the pile of broken glass. Broken and Shattered. A visual representation of your marriage.

Smashed, cracked, and unrepairable.

“So that's it then? That’s your excuse for you to bury your cock in some twenty-year-old pussy?” You snort as you make your way in front of him, squaring up to him and looking him straight in his eyes. “I carried her in my body. She is made up of my flesh and my blood. Fuck you, Yoongi,” you punctuate your vicious words with jabs into his chest. “You’re a piece of shit. I trusted you with everythi-."

“See, that is exactly what I mean. It is always about you and never about us.” Yoongi’s voice roars above your own. He continues to stand his ground amidst the onslaught of insults. Not once does he break eye-contact with your enraged state. “I tried being there for you. But it was you who pushed me further and further away with every passing day. I wanted to comfort you. Fuck, I needed you to comfort me. But no, you shoved me out like you shoved everyone else around you. And now look where we are,” he lashes back, voice as sharp as a knife. “In case you have forgotten, it took two people to ruin this relationship.”

His words cut. Like vines wrapping themselves around your heart and tightening with no signs of stopping until the thorns have torn their way through and spilled the contents all over the floor as you both stare at each other with mutually pained expressions.

“It would have been kinder to kill me than to do what you did. Now I'm the one that is filled with a bitterness I can't control and I don’t want that anymore, Yoongi. I don’t deserve to keep feeling this way.” 

Stunned into a violent silence, you shove Yoongi from you and watch as he loses his balance and stumbles backward. Somehow it just isn’t enough. You wanted to see him hurt as he had hurt you. Yet nothing you think will ever make him hurt the way you are. Raising your hands to push at him again, your movements are cut short as a pair of palms lock around your wrists before you can make contact with his chest and pull you in. 

“Don’t you dare,” Yoongi seethes. All he can do is look at you in the moment of your shared pain. Even when you assault him with full fists, your hands aren’t exactly void. They are full of anger and hatred and Yoongi doesn’t ever think he would be able to forgive what he has turned you into. “I want you to look at me.”

It’s a command you wish yourself to ignore and despite every urge in your bones not to, weakness fills your body as you obey. His beautiful face twists in anger at your actions. Dark circles under his eyes, his clothes are wrinkled and his onyx hair is dishevelled and messy. And you aren’t faring any better. You’re just as much as a mess with puffy cheeks, swollen from all the crying. Mascara stains slide down your face in streaks of faded black and yet Yoongi still finds you the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on.

In a hasty rush, Yoongi backs you up towards the closest wall and pins your wrists above your head, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. His chest rises and falls with every breath he takes, and you will yourself not to back down to the feeling of fear crawling under your skin underneath his stare.

Yoongi’s face nears your own, and he presses his nose against your cheek, his grip on your wrist tightens ever so gently as he inhales and trails his nose down to your neck. You’re unsure if it's the dominant behaviour he’s displaying, the close proximity or the unforgiving tone of his voice, but something inside of you stirs. 

Impulsively, you pull a hand out of his grip and find the top of his hair to pull his head down towards you. “Yoongi, if you want to kiss me that badly, then do it.” You lash back, your words sending a shiver down your own neck. This time it’s your own chest that rises and falls with every inhalation, your tits pressing up against Yoongi as the proximity between you gets smaller.

He exhales deeply. The warmth of his breath tickles at your skin as he grins, feeling you shudder against him and before you realise it, Yoongi has his head buried between the junction of your throat and shoulder. Making his way up to your jawline, he begins licking at your skin and leaves the tiniest of nips, feather light and barely enough to leave marks.

Yoongi lowers one of his hands from your wrists and trails it down your face. You watch him as he plays with the strands of hair that have fallen into your face before he tucks it behind your ear.

It all feels too intimate, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach catching you off guard. It’s been so long since you’ve experienced flutters like this. Especially from your husband.

Yoongi places his palm over your cheek to frame your face and leans in for a kiss but stops a hair breadth away from your lips. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours.

Tears well in your eyes leaving your vision blurred, unfocused on Yoongi in front of you. Your breathing shortens at the close proximity of the man you have spent the last eight years of your life with, letting your own hand find his on your cheeks and lacing your trembling fingers in between his.

“I need to know if you want me again,” Yoongi gently probes.

The knuckles of his index finger softly caresses your puffy cheek as it continues down and finds the base of your throat. His fingers wrap around your neck and ever so slightly lifts your head up and squeezes the sides of your throat just hard enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to cause any restrictive air loss.

“I missed what we were…Don’t you?” The grip gets tighter and to your credit, you let him, as your free hand falls limp by your side and let out a breathy moan.

His words sting, but you’re too lost in Yoongi and the heated tension between the two of you to care. Your hand wraps around his neck and pulls him forward, pressing your lips against his in a needy rush. You whimper into the kiss, not thinking that this is going to be the last time that you both share a moment like this together.

Yoongi’s lips don’t feel like the usual smooth and soft lips that you remember but resemble more of a dry and cracked feeling like he had never gotten over the habit of chewing and picking at the skin. Nevertheless, they are still full and plump as you remember and it only makes you yearn for more.

Your mouths move against each other like they have so many times before, growing with passion as every moment passes. Yoongi licks along the seam of your lower lip and you open up for him on instinct as he begins to lick and nip at your own lip.

Yoongi takes control the moment his tongue slips into his mouth, tangling his tongue with your own in an aggressive and needy manner. The kiss resembles everything that Yoongi is. Dominant and fiery. You moan again as your eyes shut, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation of his tongue massaging against yours.

Your wrist fights its way out of his grip from above your head and joins the other in wrapping themselves around his neck and pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. Your body grows hotter with every moment that goes by, pulling him closer, trapping your body in between his and the wall behind you.

Yoongi doesn’t resist as he holds your head while he tilts his own to deepen the kiss and the other rests on your waist, his warm palm sneaks under the material of your soaking sweater to rest against the flat of your cold back. He kisses you with fever and grabs a handful of your ass and pulls you into his embrace.

You wrap your legs around his slender hips as he keeps you held up by his grip and the brick wall behind you. You just can’t get enough. Your tongues move roughly against each other in hunger, relishing the taste of each other like it is the last time.

A few tears fall from your shut eyes as the thought of knowing this is going to be the last time takes over your thoughts. Yoongi drags his teeth across your lower lip and sucks a little. His teeth dig in a little too hard and draws blood ever so slightly.

With his gaze on you turned downwards, you can’t tell if they are closed or are simply staring you down through his cat-like eyes.

“I want you, Min Yoongi,” you breathe against his lips and you feel him smile at your words.

He squeezes your ass again and grinds his hips against yours. “You still want to get up and leave me?”

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought of lying to your husband. “N-no.”

Yoongi slides your jacket straight off your shoulders and doesn’t hesitate as he reaches for the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, throwing it across the open plan kitchen straight into the living room. A moan leaves his lips as he takes you in and watches as you fumble about with the clasp on your bra, slowly sliding it down your arms once the claps have detached.

Yoongi’s lips are on yours the second the word ‘no’ leaves your mouth, teeth bumping against your own in a ferocious kiss. You whine at the contact, desperate for a breath but Yoongi has other ideas as he walks you away from the wall and down the corridor towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. 

“That’s right. I’m gonna fuck the thought of you leaving me right out of you.”

You give no response to his words as you feel your heart get heavy, ready to shatter all over again.

Yoongi sets you down, both feet on the floor as he keeps his lips on yours. His tongue continues to slip in and out of your mouth as he pushes the door open and pulls you in with him. You are forced against the door and you flinch at the sound of it slamming loud behind you. The door knob behind you pushes against you, but you lose the sense to care when it’s Yoongi who has you pressed against it. Your fingers reach for the belt loops of his denim jeans and tug him towards you, feeling his hardening cock pressing against you.

Finally getting a break, Yoongi detaches his lips and kisses down your jaw until his lips, tongue, and teeth grace across your neck. You automatically tilt your head back for him, granting the space for him to leave his mark. Your hands fly up to grab at his hair, tugging when the taller man traps the skin in between his lips and lightly sinks his teeth in as if he is testing the waters.

In response, you moan at his actions and you can feel him smirk against your neck. Yoongi continues to kiss all over the expanse of your neck, finding your collarbone and nibbling on the skin. You mewl at the pleasure, feeling the hair on your neck stand at the feeling of teeth grazing your flesh.

You feel Yoongi’s cock twitch and swell slightly as you both begin to grind against each other, desperate for friction. Yoongi finds the sweet spot of your neck, in between your shoulder and your neck. His mouth sucks on the spot vigorously and diligently, creating a kaleidoscope of marks to decorate your skin. Your reaction pleases him enough to know that that spot is still your sensitive spot and he keens to himself that he is still able to rouse the sweet sounds from your lips.

Yoongi dives forward and gets to work on unbuttoning your jeans before finding the small slider of the zipper and teases you, not pulling it down like you desperately need him to. Instead, he releases the little piece of metal and his palm reaches down and palms your pussy through your jeans. You throw your head back and grind down on him, looking for any sort of friction to get you off. The feeling of his index, middle and ring finger rubbing your pussy up and down gets you wetter than you ever thought you would be, but it’s just not enough. And if there is one thing Yoongi always was and always will be, that’s a tease. As he watches your face twist as you writhe in front of him by the minute he deems necessary, he rips his hand away from you.

“Yoongi, w-why?”

He eventually pulls the zipper down and hastily dips his fingers into the separated denim, past the hem of your underwear, and straight for your clit. You yelp out at the indulgence being bestowed upon your body from the only man who knows how. Yoongi begins to pull your jeans down your thighs and legs, letting them pool at your feet before kicking them away and moving your underwear to the side and then opening your legs further to allow him more access to move his hand in between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Yoongi begins as two fingers spread your lips open and his middle finger makes the first intrusion into your pussy. Your body spasms as he slides in knuckle deep and curls his finger once he finds that spongy spot deep inside.

Your lips surge forward and attach them to his own mouth in a frenzy of lust. The kiss is carnal and animalistic, tongue and teeth battling against each other as his finger never stops pumping in and out of you at a deadly pace. Your hands wrap around his biceps and squeeze. Your chipped fingernails digging into his skin, tearing at the flesh and leaving a trail of red marks.

“What do you want?” Yoongi questions with a lazy smirk on his face.

For this to be over. For me to leave you once and for all, you don't say.

“You.”

“That’s right. You’re mine, and I’m not going to let you forget that,” he softly whispers in your ear causing your body to shiver. He removes his finger from you and pulls you away from the door and pushes you down on the bed.

The bed creaks against the hardwood flooring the cotton sheets doing barely anything to save you from your dramatic landing. Encouraged by your moans from his aggressive actions, Yoongi grasps at your ankles and pulls you towards the bottom of the bed until your feet touch the floor and parts your legs to allow him space to fit in between.

Once again, his fingers trace over your glossy folds ever so gently. If you weren’t so hyper aware of everything going on around you, you don’t think you’d be aware of his fingers caressing your folds. That is how gentle Yoongi is with you. A juxtaposition to how carnal he was just moments ago. The whole time, Yoongi has his eyes gazing at your soaked pussy, like it’s the only thing he has ever been trained to do.

“Mmm,” he hums, “look at all this mess… Is this all for me? Did you miss me this much?” He goads, groaning as he presses his fingers into your clit, watching your hips rise from the bed beneath you.

“Yoongi, please,” you babble, lips parting and eyes fluttering shut at the tingling sensation of Yoongi’s fingers. Your hand reaches down to Yoongi’s wrist and holds him in place, a silent plea to encourage his movements. “Please, I just… I need… you,” you murmur, a choked cry escaping you.

The words drip from your tongue so easily, the words that Yoongi has been desperately needing to hear from you this whole time.

A fire blazes warmer as Yoongi slides two fingers past your slick folds and buries them deep inside your cunt again. He gives a few lazy pumps of his index and middle finger before sinking his head down between your legs and licking a wide stripe from your quivering hole, making sure to manoeuvre around his fingers, to your clit. Yoongi flattens out his tongue and repeats himself twice, thrice.

Your hand finds its way to Yoongi, as you take a generous amount of hair and tug at him, pulling him toward your pussy for more. Instinctively, your legs part to give Yoongi more room to play with you. He makes sure to give your clit extra attention as he draws lopsided and rough circles on the sensitive bud, causing your back to arch significantly off the bedspread and further into his awaiting mouth. Your hands tighten the grip on his hair and you shiver at his ministrations.

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” Yoongi breathes, into your dewy lips. The movement of his lips against your pussy sources a sigh and loud moans to creep past your lips, letting Yoongi know just how good he is making you feel.

His fingers never stop in tandem with his tongue. With every suction of his mouth comes a harder thrust of his fingers, knuckles deep and never missing a single beat, pulling your orgasm closer to the edge.

One of your feet lifts off the floor and finds purchase on the end of the bed, bending your knee. You raise your head and are graced with the most wonderful view of Yoongi from below you all fucked out, just from some oral. It never fails to amuse you how Yoongi can get so riled up just from your own pleasure. 

“Spit on it,” you beg.

You can feel Yoongi smile against your slick cunt at your words. Removing his head from your pussy, you watch as his chin is connected by a string of your arousal as he looks towards the mess he has already made. His skin is glossy and wet, just how you both used to enjoy it.

Rather than letting the fluid leave his mouth, he takes his time and lets the liquid leak from his mouth slowly. You watch as it drips from his tongue and climbs out of his mouth before the first drop lands on your clit, now connecting the both of you. Never has Yoongi ever done that with you before and it leaves you feeling more turned on. The never ending drool between the both of you finally snaps and Yoongi’s eyes return to your pussy, watching his spit mix with your arousal and trickling down past your ass creating a wet patch in his red comforter.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi,” you moan, voice breaking as his two fingers leave your sloppy cunt with a pop, collecting the mixed fluids and stuffs his fingers back into you, curling it at the right spot. “Shit, shit, shit, Yoongi that feels so good,” your voice is breathy.

Yoongi lifts both your legs and places them over his shoulders and continues to suck vigorously at your clit, your orgasm approaching you at a phenomenal rate. Garbled cries of Yoongi's name fall from your lips like a mantra, like it's the only prayer you know. Pleasure consumes every single part of your body. Your toes curl as your ankles dig into the back of Yoongi’s shoulders.

“Keep going, Y-Yoongi don’t stop, oh God-,” your grip tightens in his hair as you scream, your orgasm ripping through you. Your legs tremble as you feel Yoongi’s hands hold your hips down and continue to slurp every last drop of cum that leaves your pussy, making sure that you remember every last movement of his tongue.

Yoongi places one last chaste kiss on your clit and removes himself from in between your legs. The bed dips ever so gently as he places a knee on either side of your body and crawls up towards you. You watch as he removes his shirt from his body, revealing the soft skin of his torso. The moonlight outside seeps in through the crack in the curtains, giving Yoongi an ethereal glow like the purest angel who’d been cast upon you, to look out for you and love you. But you’re easily reminded of the devil in his angel eyes.

You see the remnants of your slick coating his lips as he strokes his own tongue along the skin, savouring the taste of you entirely. His lips are full and swollen from the attack he just bestowed on you. One of his arms balances his weight on either side of your head as the other slides under your head and lifts you up, meeting your lips half way. Your tongue slips into his mouth immediately and tangles with his own. You taste yourself on him and you moan aloud.

Both so lost in the taste of each other, you fail to feel Yoongi’s hand being removed from your hair as he begins to pull on the leather of his belt. The metal clacks against each other and he starts to pull the material through the loops as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. He places the belt next to your thigh and you break the kiss to begin working on the button of his jeans before pulling the zipper down.

You pull apart the top of his jeans just enough to give your hand enough room to slide under and grip his cock from through his boxers. Yoongi’s hips jut forward at the contact, head falling back and a breathy sigh fills the air around you as you squeeze over him ever so gently. It only spurs you on and you begin softly palming him, allowing him to press more and more into your hand as you continue to apply pressure to his cock. You feel a surge of confidence knowing that you still have this effect on your husband. Maybe he is still attracted to you, you think. Maybe it could work again.

No. You can’t think that. Remember what he did to you, your shattered heart reminds you. No matter how often you try, and you have tried, your heart just won’t let you see the light of Yoongi again.

Yoongi doesn’t remember the last time he felt this good. He is so used to using himself to get off since the separation that he has totally forgotten what it was like having someone else help him get off.

Eventually, he pulls his jeans and underwear off and throws them somewhere behind him, hearing them land in a heap on the other side of the room. His cock bobs slightly up and down as he groans at being released from his tight confines. It wasn’t a secret that Yoongi had a beautiful cock. Pink from base to tip, precum shining in a glistening sheen at the head. He isn’t the biggest but he definitely had girth.

“Where are your hands?” he questions.

You raise your hands towards his cock, thinking that is what he was asking for but Yoongi stops you short as you near his dick and brings them up to his mouth and presses kisses to them both. He crawls a little further, pushing you down with his knees as he gets higher and sits just shy of your tits.

“What are you doing?”

Yoongi places one kiss on each wrist and then places them above your head, and in between the metal bars of his bedpost and reaches for the belt he had removed earlier. “Do you still like being bound?”

Your mouth opens but you can’t formulate any words towards his proposal. A soft moan and deep breath echoes in the room as you nod your head. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles on the inner skin of your wrists.

With a heated gaze, Yoongi wraps the leather around your wrists and ties a knot in the metal bars your hands are caught in between, giving it a rough tug and testing the strength of the knot he has created.

Happy, Yoongi manoeuvres himself slowly down your body, his fingers grazing over your cheeks and down your jawline. He continues his touch towards the valley of your breasts and tender skin of each tit. His fingers pinch one of your nipples and your body reacts in the most beautiful way at the unexpected pleasure. He releases your nipple momentarily and then presses down on it again. A sharp exhale is pulled from you at his actions. Leaning down, his teeth graze the other nipple and he grinds a little harder with the bud between his teeth. Your arms pull at the restraints in an attempt to feel anything. Yoongi, the bed sheets, anything you can sink your nails into.

Yoongi catches your reactions from his peripheral vision and amusingly smirks to himself. He begins laving at the valley of your breasts, basking in the salty sweet taste of your flesh. Yoongi looks up to you through lust filled eyes and curls his lips into an amusing smile, a bright tint taking over his soft porcelain skin. Gently, he presses the underside of his cock through your folds and rocks himself through your wetness in an unhurried pace.

Regardless, there is plenty of pain and torment behind each other's eyes at the loss of each other, but not as much hurt and betrayal your heart feels as you gaze at Yoongi, watching him manipulate your emotions in this very moment and yet you can’t help but let him and every part of your being can’t help but add layer upon layer of guilt for what you’re really here to do.

Yoongi kisses down your stomach, making sure to run his tongue over your flesh and wet trails in his wake. His hands glide up and down your ribs, tickling you as he goes until he abruptly stops. You peer down at Yoongi to see what it is that has him pausing until you see him staring at your stomach, and more specifically - your pregnancy scar from the emergency surgery you were rushed in for the birth of your child.

Suddenly feeling insecure, your hands move to cover yourself up but the slight burn of the leather against your skin, held as a tight reminder that you are bound to the bed all for Yoongi’s taken.

“Shh, my baby,” he starts as you swallow heavily. His hand caresses the scar with the utmost care as his fingers linger and trace feather light touches back and forth, causing your abdomen to tighten. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He kisses your scar and tears well up in your eyes and immediately drips down the side of your cheeks. “This body — it gave me, us, life. You’ll always be the most beautiful woman in every room,” he mouths against your inner thigh as he ventures closer to where you both yearn for him to be.

At first, Yoongi didn’t know where to start. It had been so long since the last time you had sex with each other and to say Yoongi is at a bit of a loss would be an understatement. He wants to taste you, feel you, touch you in any way and every way he possibly could think of.

Without thinking too much into it, Yoongi lowers his head until his mouth reaches your pussy and your hips jerk up at the feeling of his soft tongue finally running the length from your hole to your clit. Yoongi’s hands reach up to your hips and pin you down to the mattress, minimising your movements below him while he assaults your nerves over and over.

Yoongi stops for a moment and uses the time to revert his gaze back up to you. Your face is twisted to the side attempting to hide in the crook of your arm which is bent at the elbow due to the belt restraining you to the headboard. But he can see your face painted in pleasure and that is enough for him to chew at his bottom lip and move back towards your pussy.

Separating your pussy with his index and middle finger, Yoongi reveals your swollen clit to the cold air and watches as you clench against nothing — just for him. You’re squirming from under his hold on your hips as you attempt to seek any possible friction to the emptiness you’re currently experiencing.

“Baby, there’s no rush. We have plenty of time,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath as he begins to blow cold air on your pussy and you can feel the pressure in your belly to turn into something needier. 

If only he knew that he did not in fact have plenty of time and that after this, this would be the end between the both of you.

Yoongi licks past your folds once more, reattaching his lips to your clit. You let a deep sigh fall past your lips as your hips rise from the bed and harder into Yoongi’s mouth.

Yoongi swirls his tongue expertly through your pussy, remembering every motion that made your body writhe and yearn for him and watching you fall undone minute by minute underneath him. Your legs instinctively try to clamp themselves together, however, with Yoongi’s hold on your fleshy thighs, he is able to pry them open wider and hold your legs down flat on the sheets.

His soft muscle works in all different motions and shapes against your pussy all while slurping your juices like a man starved from his woman, causing you to squirm and pull once again at the restraints on your arms, feeling the leather item burn your skin. You moan his name over and over as Yoongi takes your clit in between his teeth and grazes ever so gently.

“Fuck, Yoongi, that feels so good.” You plead as your hips move back and forth at an increasingly quick pace.

You feel two of Yoongi’s fingers dance their way across your slit and ever so gently pushing past your folds and inch towards your clit and begin rubbing in feather-like touches on your bundle of nerves. He presses the pads of his fingers onto your sensitive clit and watches as your toes curl at the agonising pleasure he is providing before trailing down to your wet hole and pushing the digits into your cunt.

Both fingers push past your empty pussy until his knuckles meet your pubic bone, watching the way you open up for him and accommodate his fingers with little to no issues. Yoongi’s tongue works in tandem with the quick sharp thrusts his fingers make in and out of you in quick motions.

“Shit, ____, you’re so beautiful,” Yoongi mumbles. Your eyes are wide as Yoongi begins a harsh pace, fucking his fingers as deep as he could get them into you. He curls both fingers just right and watches your face contort, mouth agape as a deep sharp scream fills the air around you both.

Yoongi continues to twist his wet muscle against your clit before moving his head further down and thrusts his tongue into your dewy opening to join his two fingers. Your fists grab a hold of the leather belt and tug at it in an attempt to pull yourself away from Yoongi, the pleasure he’s indulging you with is almost too much to handle.

Without a warning, Yoongi’s fingers leave your pussy and wrap around your thigh, leaving your slick stained against your thigh, and pulls you back towards his mouth as he pushes forward and attacks you with his skilled tongue.

“Yoongi, Yoo-, oh my-,” you mewl as your walls clench around his muscle, letting him know that your climax is within reach.

Yoongi doesn’t stop, instead opting to concentrate his movements on your clit. He flicks back and forth over and over, watching you with feline eyes as he smirks against your cunt and digs his fingers into your trembling thighs.

“Cum. Remind yourself who makes you feel this fucking good,” Yoongi growls and blows cold air onto your pussy before diving back in. He is relentless in his movements, never leaving one area untouched.

“I hate what, ngh,” you try to say through the pleasure being bestowed upon you, “what we’ve become.” You mumble in between cries, your heart races, and your chest heaves as you fight for air in your burning lungs.

Opting to make you cum faster, Yoongi takes your clit in between his teeth and lightly nips at the sensitive bud. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl at the sensation.

Again, he drags his teeth over your clit and smirks, “Yeah, I’m sure you do. That’s why you’re in my bed letting my mouth fuck you this well,” he cockily rebuttals.

He isn’t wrong. The sounds of him sucking and slurping your juices, the roughness of the pads of his fingers digging into your thighs was overbearing and just too good. You had missed having Yoongi in bed. But being here is just a constant reminder of the broken promises and torn vows. You’re just here to milk each other of all the pain you possibly can.

“Such a sweet pussy. The best pussy I’ve ever eaten.”

Your eyes look up at your bound wrists and can visibly see the marks underneath the leather and that was enough to spur you over the edge.

“Ngh, yes, r-right there, right there,” The ache in your tummy had finally snapped as your climax washes over you like a tidal wave. Your eyes clap shut and tears fall from the corners in small rivulets at the pleasure. Your mouth is wide as a weak cry sneaks past your lips.

As you try and close your legs around Yoongi, he relieves both of his hands from around the bottom of your ass and instead presses it against your inner thighs, holding your legs open further tongue darting in and out, up and down, as he drinks in every last drop.

You watch him through your blurred vision as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth further to accommodate your clit once more, continuing to take mouthfuls of you without a single bit of trouble.

Your effort to stay still is at a loss as loud sobs fall from your lips at the overstimulation of Yoongi’s tongue slithering back into your quivering hole. 

Despite your fragility in the moment, he seeks another orgasm from you, as if to challenge himself - to show you that nobody would be able to treat you just like he can.

“Stop, I’m -,” the words get stuck in your throat as your body seizes and your sight blackens, “going to come again.” Your body melts into his touch and your muscles tense once more as you come for the second time in just a matter of minutes.

Your skin burns as the leather of his belt above you tears from the force you pull on it. Your hands fly down and find Yoongi’s hair and fists themselves in between the strands, pulling him closer to you once more as the power of your orgasm forces his tongue from your pussy as a clear stream of liquid oozes onto the bed sheets, dousing the both of you.

You barely manage to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds that threaten to tear from your vocal cords before Yoongi gets a hold of your wrist and manoeuvres it away from your face.

“Don’t be quiet now, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” He laughs. 

“I forget that you can do that, shit, you’re so hot. Bet nobody else can make you squirt with that kind of force,” he continues. “Fuck sweetheart, I bet nobody but me can make you squirt, period.”

The cockiness in his voice frustrates you and prompts you to bite back harder. “I’m sure the bitch you fucked in our marital bed couldn’t provide you good enough pussy, so you’re back in between my legs trying to prove you’re still useful at something.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re in shock with yourself. You never thought of yourself as the kind of person who would outrightly be so malicious. But all the emotions are beginning to crash one on top of the other, you couldn’t help but bark.

You watch Yoongi’s face contort in anger or disappointment as the words leave your mouth -  the mention of infidelity obviously hitting a sore spot.

Yoongi moves quickly and is soon straddling your waist once more and lets his head ebb towards you and attaches his kiss bitten lips to your own swollen ones while his hand works on the buckle of the belt to move off your wrists.

The taste of yourself is pungent as he slides his tongue straight into your mouth and circles his own wet muscle with your tongue prompting the kiss to become unforgiving, wet, and messy from the start.

You are unable to respond at first out of surprise, not expecting him to react to your words in such a manner - yet you aren’t against it at all. The lewd sounds of your tongues entwining and lips smacking resounds through the bedroom and prompts you to wrap an arm around his neck and force him further against you.

Yoongi diligently swallows every moan you let out as his own hands sneaks down and slaps your clit once, twice; the salacious wet sounds prompting you to bite down on Yoongi’s lip before letting it go and watching it snap back as a string of saliva keeps the two of you connected.

You feel Yoongi ever so lightly thrust his cock against your leg, smearing the pre-cum that has gathered on his head over your stomach. “Of course, you’re still into the rough hate sex.”

“Not make-up sex?” Yoongi laughs at your words.

“Don’t push it.”

You look back at him and see that there is no anger left in his expression, but instead, he looks empty. Like a shell of the man you once knew. He looks at you from above, with his muscly arms keeping you trapped in between his body and the bed with glints of melancholy laced with the desire for more of you.

Lacing both your hands together at the back of his neck, you draw Yoongi closer and kiss him once more, tasting his lips against yours again. You inch away from his mouth and trail your kisses towards his ear, taking the earlobe into your mouth and sucking on it lightly as Yoongi continues to find pleasure by rutting against your stomach.

“Go on. Now is your last chance to fuck the thought of me leaving you,” you whisper into his ear, taunting him with his words from earlier.

Yoongi scoffs and flips you over onto your stomach, coaxing a yelp of surprise from you, and guides your hips lower until you feel his cock probe ever so gently at your entrance. The graze of his dick against your clit prompts you to gently back away from him at the last minute.

“Have I done something wrong, ____?”

“Maybe you should cover up. It’s been a while and I don’t know where you’ve been. Sorry, who you’ve been with.”

Yoongi hesitates behind you, taken aback by your words. He doesn’t fight you on what you propose because if he’s honest; you’re right. You have no reason to trust him or his words now. Getting up from the bed, he rakes through his nightstand for a minute before finding himself back on the bed behind you.

You hear the sound of the foil packet tearing and you’re a little disappointed that Yoongi didn’t even try and convince you that he’s not been with anyone, confirming your suspicions that he’s maybe already been seeing other people. Or worse, her.

Rough fingers grab at one of your thighs and push them further apart to allow Yoongi ample space to fit in between your legs.

“Spit and spread your pussy for me,” he mumbles.

Stunned, you reach one hand up to your mouth and spit onto the pads of your fingers. Your head turns to the side and lowers towards the duvet on the bed to help balance yourself as your fingers find a home in between your legs and split your lips open in a ‘V’ shape. You shiver as you feel your fingers slide past your lips easily and mix your saliva with your spilt cum from earlier.

As you wait for Yoongi, you can see him from the position your head has found itself in and you can’t help but take him in.

With a strong stance behind you, you can see how his skin is flushed with excretion and shimmers under the light as perspiration sticks to his skin. When he takes a hold of his cock in between his hand, he throws his head back at the friction and you can’t help but let out a quiet moan at the sight.

You’re not quiet enough it seems as Yoongi looks back down at you through his dark lashes as he inches forward and pokes the head of his cock against your clit once more and thrusts in between your wet slit and out again, watching as the silicon wrapped around him glistens at the wetness from in between your own legs.

Yoongi’s mouth drops open at the sight and wills himself to run his cock back through your lips once more, pulling back again to see the filthy concoction he requested keep the pair of you connected before snapping and dripping from his tip to the sheets underneath.

His hands roughly grip at your hips and lowers you back towards him before settling at your small hole above and pressing forward.

“Oh, my God, Yoongi,” your voice strains as tears gather at your lash line at being stretched out once more by your husband. It’s been so long since you have had someone inside you. Since you have had him inside of you.

Yoongi bottoms out in one go as he pushes past you in one fluid motion without an issue. His hips grind up against your ass, half amazed that your pussy is still as tight as what he remembers it being. For the briefest of moments, he asks himself if finding another woman to bury his troubles in was even worth it; he has deprived himself of you for too long as a consequence.

It is a foreign feeling to the both of you fucking with a condom after years of unprotected raw sex, but nevertheless, it is like your pussy is custom made just to fit his cock. The way he fits inside you with next to no resistance - the slickness of your walls welcoming him home after so long of being away.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good around me, ____. Fuck.”

Yoongi pulls out all the way and watches as your hole clenches around nothing before he bends over and spits his own saliva onto your pussy and fills you up to the brim all over again, just to feel you tighten around him again.

Moans and grunts fill the room from the both of you as Yoongi starts with an unrelenting pace from the get go, watching you coat his cock in your slick over and over. Yoongi's hands dig into your hips as he pulls you back to fuck yourself on his dick, hitting all the spots inside you that neither your fingers nor toys could ever dream of reaching.

The formality of words now reduced to nonsensical noises and babbling, shrieks cast from your lips and Yoongi all but laughs from above you at the state you still get into just from him and his cock. The sounds ever so quickly are drowned out by the slapping of skin on skin as he fucks into you faster, harder.

You feel a hand slither up your back and into the nape of your neck and grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the top of your head, pulling at you and guiding you upward. With your back now flushed against Yoongi’s bare chest, you’re able to feel the sweat that clings to his skin stick to your own.

Another hand wraps around your waist to keep you upright and descends towards one of your nipples where he takes it in between his pointer finger and thumb and twists it.

“You can’t tell me anyone fucks-fucks you this well,” Yoongi growls in your ear. “Not a chance any other man can make you take a cock like mine.”

Admittedly, he’s right. Nobody has ever made you feel the way that Yoongi has made you feel.

You let out a condescending snort at his words, pissing him off and ridiculing apart his ego bit by bit. 

Yoongi lets go of your nipple in favour of curling his hand around your neck and tilting your head, the back of it resting against Yoongi’s shoulder as he towers above you, not breaking eye contact. Every so gently, Yoongi twists your head to the side, enough to allow his lips to meet yours as he continues the brute pace of pounding into your pussy.

The kiss is open mouthed, rough, and messy. Both your tongues circle each other in a battle against each other, saliva dripping from your mouths down to your chest and travels down the valley of your breasts.

Yoongi can feel your throat bob with every swallow you allow yourself, groaning in the process. The rough calluses of his fingers around your throat squeezes slowly, not hard enough to hurt you, but firm enough to cut off your breathing and leave you breathless and lightheaded. Your mouth opens further to suck in air and encourages Yoongi to pull away from the kiss. He leans down to trail rough kisses down your neck over the exposed skin that isn’t covered by his hand. With every touch of his lips, Yoongi made sure to suck on the skin and bite down hard enough to leave teeth marks.

Your mouth twists into a wicked smile at the action and you watch through lustful eyes Yoongi matches your smirks along with you as he keeps thrusting in and out of you, allowing you to see stars with every press of his cock against your cervix.

Yoongi starts to lightly release his grip on your neck as the heat begins to travel up his face. What a beautiful sight you are for him. As he begins to move his hand, you grab at his wrist and whimper for him to keep going.

“More.”

Both of you are so lost in the pleasure of it all that Yoongi doesn’t find it in himself to deny your request. Following your orders, Yoongi’s hand finds itself placed back on your neck and squeezes harder than before.

Keeping his hand in place, Yoongi watches from above as your eyes flutter shut at the constriction on your throat and the never ending bruising thrusts he is providing you. Yoongi drinks in every sound of the choked noises spilling from your lips in needy haste. You look like you’re on the verge of passing out with tear stains on your cheeks. The makeup that was smeared earlier in the night is now no longer present on your skin, having completely been erased by your activities.

“F-fuck, Yoongi, I c-can’t. I love you so much that I hate you,” you croak the words out past your tight throat, clenching your cunt as he drags his cock against your walls.

Yoongi’s head drops onto your shoulder from behind and the sound of sniffling can be heard. If it wasn’t for the sudden wetness that dripped onto your shoulder, you would have thought he was sniffling for oxygen. Instead, Yoongi is fucking into you while he lets his tears fall freely onto your skin.

He removes his fingers from your neck and you can’t help but suck in oxygen, your head going light headed quickly and your body bending forward, only to be kept in the arms of Yoongi.

“Are you crying right now?”

No response. Instead, Yoongi just sniffs again.

You see Yoongi’s reflection in the corner of the mirror from the way your head is against his chest and come to the conclusion that he has been crying for a while now. His eyes are bloodshot and red from rubbing the tears away. Your heart breaks at the sight and you can’t help but entwine your fingers with his own that lay against your stomach and give his hand a tight squeeze.

“You feel so good around me, ____. Wish I could feel you properly,” he muttered to himself, ignoring his tears and your question.

Without thinking, you respond, “do it.”

Yoongi abruptly stops mid thrust at your words, making you come to your senses and what you have just agreed to.

“Really?”

You pause for a moment to contemplate your next answer.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi couldn’t have pulled out of you fast enough at your confirmation. There is a moment of silence in the room as you presume Yoongi takes the latex off. Your mind is racing a million miles a minute at the decision you’ve made, unsure if it’s the right one or not.

“____. Ride me,” Yoongi voices directly.

Your breath gets caught and you splutter out a cough at his request. It was fine with him fucking you from behind, you didn’t have to look at him as he fucked into you but riding him was a whole other request. The position is so personal and would require you to hold your emotions together as you come face to face with him in the most intimate of ways.

Without saying a word, you move out of the way and let Yoongi rest his back against the headboard. He pulls you by the elbow on top of him with ease, your hands lay home on his shoulders as he holds his weeping cock at the base, readying himself for you to sink down on his length.

Your knees rest on either side of his thighs as you take in the view of Yoongi’s dick below you — proudly standing reddened and swollen under the lights. You slowly grind yourself against him, aching for the chance to feel him inside of you. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the desire of having Yoongi in such a way. At the end of the day, this is the man you had fallen in love with, grown with, and created life with.

Yoongi guides his cock past your wet slit one more time and basks in the feeling of you finally sinking down onto him, moaning with relief as his dick reaches parts of you in this position that the last couldn’t.

One more time, Yoongi bottoms out and his eyes flutter at the feeling of finally having you raw, with nothing between the two of you. He can feel everything — everything he always told himself he would never be able to experience again. Maybe this is his second chance to make things right. To prove to you that he is still the same man you fell in love with all those years ago without the feeling of hatred to be lace in between.

Yoongi’s hands rest at your waist and rub soothing circles into your skin above your hips. You both draw in a breath in preparation for your movements. You can’t help but lower your head and press your lips against Yoongi’s.

The kiss is softer than the last few you have shared. But just as quick as it starts, it stops. The overwhelming emotions become just too much to handle at the moment.

You start to move your hips with the help of Yoongi placing both hands on your waist and slowly moving you up and down on himself as you chew on your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

“I wish you could see what I see,” you hear Yoongi say from below you. “You’ve never looked so beautiful.”

You roll yourself down onto Yoongi steadily as you start at a moderate pace. The feeling of no barrier between you both clearly affects you just as much as Yoongi. Your hands lay against Yoongi's chest as you watch his head fall back in desire.

Your hips pick up the pace, bouncing up and down for Yoongi as he guides you with his hands still glued to your hips. You smile to yourself as you look at the man below you so lost in the feeling as he moans out loudly with every sink of your pussy on his cock. Seeing Yoongi lose his composure was as rewarding as it comes, filling yourself with pride.

A shift beneath you catches your attention and you nearly scream as the change allows the head of Yoongi’s cock to kiss the opening of your cervix repeatedly. Furthermore, Yoongi’s head comes up and takes a nipple straight into his mouth, using his tongue to swirl around the erect pebble, only increasing the desire.

He frees one of his hands from your hip and snakes it between the two of you, and presses his thumb against your clit, teasing it in tiny circles. You bounce yourself down harder on him, feeling the burn of the muscles in your thighs as you chase the pleasure you're so desperately needing.

“I don’t think I’m going to last, Yoongi,” you sigh. You bury your face against his shoulder and bounce so his cock slides in and out of your pussy faster.

“Fuck, you got this. Make me come, sweetheart,” Yoongi manages to stutter through gritted teeth.

Your nails rake over Yoongi's chest, leaving tracks of red and split skin at the force. Your eyes snap shut and your bounces get sloppier, losing the rhythm a little as you start to feel the pleasure build. The thumb that Yoongi has pressed against you begins to pick up its own pace, aiding you in finding your climax faster. You slide yourself down on his cock and roll your hips once you reach the base over and over again until your legs begin to shake.

Yoongi isn’t faring much better as his hips lift off the bed in search of his own euphoric bliss. He meets your bounces with a thrust of his own, causing your body to shake, and pleas of making you come leave your lips like a filthy prayer.

Bursts of pleasure erupting from your stomach spreads from deep inside your pussy. The butterflies in your tummy flutter in their hundreds as Yoongi finally tips you over the edge, your orgasm overtakes your body wholly consuming you.

Every nerve in your body is reactive as his fingers trails down your neck, through the valley of your breasts, and back on your clit as he plays with you through your pleasure. 

The feeling of you clenching and unclenching while you keep bouncing on him through your own orgasm is enough to keep Yoongi pulling your body down onto him. He thrusts once, twice before he buries himself so deep inside you and unloads ropes of sticky cum into your already messy cunt.

Your cunt wraps tightly around his dick as it pulsates with every shot of cum he empties into you. Yoongi's hips convulse and lift off the bed as he continues to force his load deeper, making sure none of what he has to give you goes to waste.

Swollen mouths meet in the middle as your tongue instantly slides past the seam of his lips and wraps around his own as you both bask in your mutually shared climax. You swallow each other's moans as you sigh in satisfaction with the familiar feeling of being filled by your husband one last time.

Breaking the kiss, you shift your weight out of Yoongi’s lap and crash against the soft comforter below, nuzzling your cheek into the cool sensation it brings to your heated skin. Yoongi isn’t too far behind you as he slides down the bed and lies himself behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You can’t help but stare straight into the bare wall at the opposite side of the bedroom as a cold shiver runs down your back. You came here with a purpose and you need to see it through.

Removing Yoongi’s arm from around your body, you sit up and promptly tie your hair out of your face and gather your pants from the floor and redress yourself before walking out of the room and back towards the living area where the rest of your clothing was left.

“What’s gotten into you?” Yoongi sulks once he makes his way to you, watching you put your shoes on. “I thought you would want to stay?” He admits bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

Without an answer, you head towards his kitchen to find your handbag on the island. You unzip it and tug out the manilla envelope and pen from the leather material and walk back to Yoongi. Handing him the heavy package, you avoid eye contact and offer him the pen second.

Yoongi gives you a look of disdain as he snatches the envelope from your hands and tears open the band that is keeping it bound shut.

“APPLICATION OF DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE (DIVORCE)”

is written in large bold red writing at the top of the first sheet of paper.

“I want a divorce, Yoongi,” you reiterate for a second time tonight. “Tonight changes nothing.”

All of Yoongi’s fears that had hung in the air above him like taunting stars had finally come to a head. He can’t believe that the words had even left your mouth for a second time that night — especially after what moment you two had just shared.

Sure, six months ago he had a feeling that things might have led to this but he was so sure that the silence from you was you needing your space before coming back and wanting to fix things. To fix your marriage.

“____, please. Don’t. Don’t do this,” he pleads. “We can talk about this. We can work this out. It’s us,” he stresses, almost begs of you. Yoongi’s hand is quick to find your own and lace his fingers with yours tightly. “I know we can work this out. All couples have problems, we’re no different-,"

Scoffing, you interrupt him, pulling your hand from his hold fast. “Not all husbands cheat on their wives after they have just held their dead child in their arms.” You bark. “I’ve already made up my mind. I’ve already signed my part,” you sigh, pointing out your initials and signature, already dated a week from today's date.

“There is nothing left for us to figure out.”

[pacific-rimbaud]

Okay but like if you DID want to defend Ron Weasley at length I’m just saying I would 100% read that cause he really does deserve it, I love him. Also agree that he’s not right for our hermione tho lol

Sidenote: half way done rereading laoha and I’m so stoked for the last chapter!!

Chaud, thank you!

First, I really don't care if other people legit hate Ron or Ron reminds them of actual shitty boyfriends they've had or enjoy Ron bashing or whatever, tagging is a beautiful thing and other people's tastes impact me not at all. Ship on, and take your hot cuppa fanservice how you like it.

Second, I'm an educator, and it is literally my job to see the best in every single kid under my umbrella and support their growth on their own terms and timeline. I've spent my entire adult life valuing children as unique and inherently worthy, rather than on the basis of their athletic skill, academic motivation, marketable talents, general Competitive Edge in Late Stage Capitalism, etc. I honor all hard work and earned accomplishments, and also recognize that attaching human value to certain talents/cognitive abilities/physical prowess/academic achievement/organizational abilities is ableist af.

It is also really, truly okay and an astonishing miracle within a mostly lifeless universe to just be a person in the world. Have a volunteer coordinator job or drive a city bus or be a teacher, enjoy your little coffees at Target, keep your truck running, trim your neighbor's maple and have a few close friends and family at your funeral whose hearts will forever ache after the way you would forget to keep opening your Christmas gifts when you unwrapped a book, you know? No one needs an Ivy League degree or principal role in a ballet company or a cock-shaped personal spacecraft to justify the time their meat-self spends consuming planetary oxygen. Two out of three of those are great if you want them. But it's also cool to just be here and not hurt other people and breathe.

Which brings us to Ron Weasley.

[Fair warning, I have never read or seen CC, he sounds like a douche in that?]

Ron's canon niche in the Weasley family is afterthought, at best, and punching bag at worst. None of the other Weasleys seem to particularly value or notice him. He's too far in age from highly accomplished Bill and Charlie to be interesting to them, and too different in personality from (also accomplished) Percy. The twins, who learned to capture attention through outlandish behavior, outright bully him. His dickishness to Ginny, the baby and only girl, is well within the bounds of typical sibling animosity.

The middlest of middle children then promptly becomes BFFs with the Boy Who Lived and Hermione Fucking Granger, Valedictorian. Everything that plays out between the three of them on a personal level is just a bunch of super predictable, ordinary teen drama. There is nothing to see here. Just kids messing around and sometimes screwing up and hurting each other's feelings a little and a lot, having a few really bad moments all around, struggling with jealousy and romantic inexperience and entirely: being eleven to eighteen years old. As a writer, I will always make heavy allowances for developmentally typical teenage self-centeredness, and not just when the teen in question is conventionally attractive/cognitively gifted/academically motivated/athletically talented/rich/Draco.

Ron, a Teen Fool, does a really shitty thing to his friends in a moment of deep personal weakness, then has to figure out how to fix it. He finds his way back to them alone, directly confronts his insecurity and lack of self-worth, then atones for his mistake. It's a big, ugly, shitty, climactic Teachable Moment where he earns an extraordinary prize: reconciliation with himself. He's a goofy, unevenly charming, wry, ordinary young man, and his arc is entirely about internalizing that 1)his friends and family are everything to him, and 2) just as he is, he is completely irreplaceable to those he loves. That he has inherent human value. That he's enough.

Not everyone comes into the world knowing that. It's no worse a peccadillo than, say, having to figure out how to not constantly steamroll everyone around you, or learn to trust other people or whatever. We all have our burdens.

I do feel strongly that he and Hermione are a terrible match, in both directions, mostly because outside of defeating Voldemort, I don't see common interests, habits, preferences, or compatible goals. They're just really different people. There's nothing wrong with that. As a person with an especially spectacular case of ADHD, I wouldn't want to be married to a high-achieving, tightly organized personality, and they would not want to be married to me (and I adore my friends who are constructed on these lines, and I think they like me, chaos goblin that I am). Know Thyself, etc.

So there you have it: Why I Think Ron Weasley is Just Fine and Also Should Have a Playful Easygoing Partner Who Loves Quidditch.

Thanks so much for the ask!

[trollocs-ooc]

Fawn staggering through the trees Since i was a girl, i never felt like a person Eyes and sights trained right on me They wanna hurt me with their sick perversions

It doesn't feel like a person because of its mutanthood, and feels constantly watched and in danger because of that. Also, Ruzmars horns were made to look sort of like antlers, so the deer motif comes out strong in this one

It's not up to me, or so I've been told This is the nature of the female skin Meat that men want bought and sold Since i can remember it's always been...

like afab people, mutants can't choose what theyre born as, they didn't ask to be born that way, but have to deal with society's and peoples expectations because of that.

HANDS OVER BLANKETS, LEGS CROSSED SKIRT BELOW KNEES, DOORS LOCKED "THERE ARE MEN THAT WILL HUNT YOU" SO I'VE LEARNED TO RUN FROM YOU. ...

It feels like it cant trust anybody not to have ulterior motives and has practically ran away from people at large. Nobody will be faulted for doing something to Ruzmar, and instead it'll be blamed because it was a mutant (like girls are always blamed when someone does something to them, because they were "asking for it" too much)

... NO KNOWLEDGE OF MY BODY PREY DRIVE DEEP SEATED IN ME

I expect that mutants allowed to stay alive, such as ruzmar, have little knowledge of their bodies beyond the fact that they're allowed to live. Also, a prey drive is the PREDATORS instinct to hunt prey. In the lense of Ruzmar, this means that it has that "prey drive" much like any other troll, but is forced to hide it to make itself appealing and harmless.

In love with the idea of me Mount my head on a wall Lifeless for everyone to see, Gracefully declawed NO SCRATCHING, BITING, WHINING, NEVER FIGHTING BACK AGAIN LOOK AT MY VIRGIN EYES THROUGH GLASS AN ALL-CONSUMING GUILT THAT YOU COULD NEVER COMPREHEND TO BE A GIRL IS TO BE TRAPPED

Again, it's not allowed to be dangerous as a mutant. It has to be declawed and harmless. Also the first lyric, i imagine trolls would be interested (perhaps too much) in mutants who are allowed to live. That's what allows ruzmar to put on a show basically with it's blog, where it shows the "harmless" and useful mutations for people to see. It's not doing that for the mutants.

"an all-consuming guilt that you could never comprehend" = i imagine being a mutant allowed to live brings with it immense survivors guilt, not to mention being made to feel guilty just for your existence

"to be a girl is to be trapped" = this lyric in the original song is meant to represent those kinds of ideas and quotes, that make it seem like women aren't people. Like womanhood has to be this awful painful existence. I imagine its the same for mutants

Clean yourself for consumption But don't ever let yourself be consumed Organs for reproduction Organs that must remain unused

This reminds of @trenchgardens-ooc-ooc-ooc-ooc (sorry 4 tag) whole idea with sterilization of mutants, i imagine Alternia especially would not let mutants reproduce.

In the song this represents the hypocrisy of how women and girls are supposed to always be appealing, but are blamed and shamed for being that.

Plagued with urges so obscene How am i supposed to ignore it? If my body's meant to stay clean Then why do i feel like I'm asking for it?

again with the "asking for it" angle.

HANDS AND ROPE AND PVC, MY UNSPOKEN FANTASIES LOSS OF MY AUTONOMY CAN'T HELP IT APPEALS TO ME IF IT'S SOMETHING I DONT WANT THEN IT COULDN'T BE MY FAULT DEER STANDING IN THE HEADLIGHTS BEGGING YOU TO TAKE ITS LIFE

I don't know if i have to explain this one. "If its something i dont want then it couldn't be my fault" basically explains everything else.

... SO SKIN ME, FLESH ME, TAN MY HIDE AND RENDER ME PRESERVED MY PLASTIC EYES BRIMMING WITH SHAME REMOVE THE VISCERA CONTAINING DEVIANCE UNHEARD TO BE A GIRL IS TO BE GAME

idk if i have to explain these anymore its basically all ive said previously.

Horror stories of what predators do I've heard them since i was old enough to fear And now I'm filled with a dreaded excitement Whenever sharp teeth and claws draw near

This to me, besides the whole loss of autonomy being appealing thing, also represents in the song how women are made to fear men, but also "need" to please them. Ough

And so my womanhood became synonymous with endangerment, Maternal figures preserve my purity with such insistence Blatant hypocrisy of animality Eating out of your hands, whatever you'll give me, Don't wanna be a cadaver, Wanna be free, But a cage is the basis of femality

Again i cant explain these more than i already have but.. oughh

Anyways there's more lyrics in this but these are all the ones that stuck out as ruzmarcore to me. Its basically the entire fucking song though. Go listen to it NOWWW if you havent already and also the whole post-traumatic manifesto as well

nevermind, Taxidermy Girl is definitely a Ruzmar song. Just make mutanthood and girlhood synonyms and it fits like a glove