#it's just the weird ass subtle tension

[nr-s1xxxxxxx]

i feel like everyone on hannibal is gay? like i heard a lot about the show and it's only my first time watching it and uuuhh they are not straight lol

i am only halfway through the first season and it might change later but idk it's not even in a queerbating type of gay they aren't even doing anything remotely sexual/romantic but the characters just radiate gay i don't know how to phrase it

[solbaby7]

En Cognito

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, misogyny, best friends that wanna fuck, sexual tension, possible violence, jealous!az, slowly shifting into slight darker content 👀 hope no one notices

summary: Going undercover alters your appearance more than your friends ever anticipated—now Azriel can’t tear his eyes away.

—

“Stop touching and just relax.”

“I can’t,” You squirm under Mor’s touch. Two hours spent around the city spending obscene amounts of money on a dress and heels that you were only going to wear once. Nimble fingers part through your hair, undoing paper curls and oiled fingers run through the ends of silky strands. Everything is too tight—too exposed. “I am deeply uncomfortable.” Your arms cross behind your back, fingers awkwardly intertwining to create some sort of barrier between your ass and the possibility of peering eyes.

The High Lords cousin doesn’t take it personally, quickly finishing final touches on your makeup and the person you see in the mirror is so far off from what you were used to that it makes your breath catch. “It’s perfect. You’re going to be perfect—they won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you.”

Your hand shakes at the thought, painted fingers curling around the glass of champagne and knocking the whole thing back in one go.

“You’re going to ruin your lipstick.”

“If I don’t have at least two more of those, I’m going to ruin this whole night.” It felt weird having your hair down like this and your fingers twitch to tuck it back into your usual bun but Mor keeps throwing looks over her shoulder while she refills both glasses. Just daring you to fuck up her work.

After the second glass your brain finally stops hyper-fixating on the fact that you can actually feel the bare skin of your thighs touching with each step, an annoying change from the leathers that usually prevented things like this. “It’s just a few dances. Bat your lashes and smile pretty and the intel will come to you, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think one dress will get me all of that.”

“It’s not about the dress.” She’s rubbing oil into your skin that makes it shine when the light touches, the sweet smell lingering long after you’ve left the room and the whole walk downstairs is filled with gentle reminders on everything she’d been teaching you all week. “It’s you in it. Seriously, where have you been hiding all of this ass?” You swat her hands away, grateful that the others had left far earlier. You could just hear Az and Cass now, eyes rolling at the very thought of their relentless teasing—this would be the topic of many jokes for weeks to come.

Slight sway of your hips, soften the length of your spine, shoulders back and head high. Confident steps even though the heels were fucking killer; five inches of added height and you’d still feel small in a room crawling with fully grown men. The champagne glass is finished and refilled once more before you’re tugged away to the balcony and past the wards.

Usually, winnowing was calming but for some reason, this time it had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling at attention from all the eyes that slid in your direction. “That was subtle.”

“We’re late,” Mor mutters through her teeth, flashing a less than sweet smile to the males undressing her with their eyes. Typical for Hewn City but still fucking disgusting. “I figured a flashy entrance would distract from that. Now, be nice.”

Easier said than done with anxiety beginning to ebb forth, fingers flexing and nails running over the details of your dress. The words from earlier repeat in your mind and instantly your spine straightens, chin raising and the added swish to your hips is enough to attract the attention of any male within a five mile radius.

It’s customary to greet the High Lord and Lady, your heels clicking and face aloof when swiftly curtsying into a respectful bow. “Rise,” Feyre commands, voice strong and filled with unquestionable power but you could see that look in her eye—familial fondness creeping at the edges of blue irises and you’re quick to appear anxious. Less comfortable when surrounded by people you’d known longer than you could put into words. “Join the others, there’s plenty of food and drink for everyone.”

Better judgement screams in your mind not to look just a little to the right; your peripheral catching onto the faint glow of cobalt blue but your eyes slide over without permission.

Azriel looks godly standing guard near his High Lord and Lady. He’s handsomely dressed in one of his fancier pairs of fighting leathers, lethally strapped to the nines with daggers at his thighs, switchblades tucked in pockets or strapped to his ankles and swords that cross at his back, right between his wings.

Like an angel of death; just as tempting as he was deadly.

You look away before he can catch you admiring the tailored cut of sturdy, dark tactical gear stretching across his muscles. Too quickly for you to notice the way he double takes, eyes widening a fraction and stance stiffening ever so slightly when he recognizes the slope of your nose and shape of your mouth glistening in gloss. He nearly chokes on his breath at the accentuation of your figure, curves on full display in a complete juxtaposition to your usual attire and his stare follows as you disappear into the crowd of bodies.

He can’t leave his spot but it doesn’t stop him from sending out his own personal surveillance to keep tabs on the way you shift about the room.

Everywhere you move, eyes follow.

Males halt their conversation, sipping on whiskey so expensive that it probably equates to a months worth of rent but judging by their tailored suits and gold cuff-links—money was the least of their problems.

“A drink, miss?”

Relief works its way into your form when you accept, thanking the waitstaff politely while acting your ass off with the fluttery lashes and doe eyes. It paints a perfect little picture—entrapping susceptible males with overly inflated egos and misogynistic thought processes. You’re almost a little too deep in the facade, aimlessly wandering through the sea of bodies with ears specially attuned to every conversation; sifting through the meaninglessness in order to catch little pieces of a bigger picture that had yet to be deciphered.

“And who might you be?”

“Nobody.” The response is instinctive, a second nature that’s easily smoothed over with a demure smile.

Even you could admit the male was handsome, all solid muscle and alluringly ragged edges. His suit is immaculate, fitting the strong line of his shoulders to perfection as the halfway unbuttoned tunic beneath broadcasts the tawny tones of his chest loitered with inky tattoos. Dark hair frames his face, a silver scar cutting through the thick of one brow and yet its completely overshadowed when in the midst of such beauty. “You certainly don’t look like ‘nobody’ to me.”

Warmth spreads at the nape of your neck, your body affected by the soulful bass of his voice and for a fleeting moment you have to remind yourself of the task at hand.

The male doesn’t give time for you to come up with another one of your carefully curated lies. A hand is extended your way, the faelight above catching on the masculine rings adorning his pinky and pointer fingers when your hand is taken in his own.

It’s almost embarrassing—the spectacle he makes in spinning you slow, taking in every detail with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Thank the Mother for Mor and her attention to detail, picking out the perfect dress and glimmering diamonds that distracted from the true soldier that burned in your soul, a characteristic that had been exercised for decades enduring Cassian and Azriel’s relentless training regiment.

“Whoever you’ve come with will never recover from the loss he’s about to take,” The males eyes are ravenous, that previously bored darkness finally flickering with life beneath the surface.

The surprised laugh you let out is genuine, a shocked bark of a thing that’s anything but ladylike but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You have a very high sense of self in assuming I’d go anywhere with you considering I don’t have the slightest clue on who you are.”

Another lie added to the steadily growing web. You’d been briefed on every single person in this room, memorized their faces and obsessively studying their lives and known connections until the only thing left was to figure out who possessed the most valuable information. “Who better to trust than Stewards right hand?” Feminine wonder masks the satisfaction of such an easily attained lead and suspicion begins to grow in your gut. Maybe it’s not as well concealed as you’d assumed because the cockiness is dialed down multiple levels and the smile he wears is far more flattering than that entitled smirk. “Call me Atlas.”

Music filters throughout the space and steadily the sea of bodies becomes more uniform, paired up couples shifting about the room with a hardened grace that allowed their movements to appear elegant, even if their faces were stripped of any semblance of emotion. “Atlas,” The name is foreign on your tongue but not entirely unpleasant. “Have any clue where they keep their stash?”

A cheshire grin accompanies the muscular bicep he holds out in offering. “Allow me to lead the way.”

Everything goes as planned, a knowing nod to Mor, a giddy smile when the Stewards second hand tugs you down a hallway, bypassing stationed guards and passing over a small pouch of silver coins to the scrawny soldier standing in front of a thick set of double doors. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted the good stuff. Kier keeps them in his office.” High heels click against the polished floors, taking in the layered colors of obsidian, onyx and oblivion. It’s typical for a male, simple, with just enough overindulgence to make your eyes roll.

“Are we supposed to be in here?”

Atlas moves across the space with ease, unlatching the lock on the liquor cabinet and collecting two glasses and a thick crystal decanter filled halfway with a deep amber liquid. “Are you going to tell on me?”

Every movement you make hold more grace than you’ve mustered up in a century. Femininity oozes from every pore and it’s intoxicating—this males reaction to the slightest graze of your nails against his fingers. It plants a terrifying seed, one eager to learn exactly how far you could take it. How many other people would react the same way?

Your mind takes a turn, sliding a key into a door you’d long since boarded up.

And you can’t help but wonder if the simple seduction would work on Azriel too.

“I can be convinced to keep a secret,” Magic must be used to keep the liquor chilled because the crystal is cold to the touch. “If you show me the balcony too.”

Atlas nods slowly, taking your words entirely different than intended but you don’t bother correcting it. Not when he strides over to the doors with such ease, pulling out a personal set of keys and unlocking them as if he’d done so a million times before.

You supposed Hewn was a sight to behold from this angle, high heels click against the concrete, bracelets clinging against the iron railings as you peer over. In its own, hauntingly beautiful way; a darker part of you could find the appeal if you overlooked the horrors that took place there.

“Now, I’ve snuck you out here, breaking all kinds of rules and jeopardizing my job for you.” If it’s the truth, Atlas has a hell of a way of making it seem nonchalant—every word laced in an amusement you can’t quite place but it’d be lying to say you didn’t find it slightly charming. “Will you finally tell me your name?”

There’s a mischievous sparkle in your eye, a taunting elongation of one leg, the shiny curve of your high heel dragging gently against his ankle. You almost answer when your eyes catch on the shadows in the corner, their color just a little too dark, their ebb just a little too sentient. Of course, Azriel would follow you out there when he believed you were taking too long, playing the perfect position of Night Court security when urging guests away from restricted areas but jealously slips its way into his tone when he finds you and Atlas on the balcony standing a little too close to be considered friendly. “You aren’t supposed to be out here.”

The male with you doesn’t seem the slightest bit deterred, cockily tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear while the other hand fishes out a small pouch full of gold coins from his suit pocket and rudely stuffs it into Azriel’s chest without even looking. “How about you go back inside and give us a few uninterrupted moments to get to know each other?”

Azriel’s brow raises, wings bristling when tracking the two fingers Atlas has grazing down your cheekbone and his tone is eerily even when responding. “Did you come alone tonight?”

“Yes,” Atlas retorts none the wiser, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth. “Though, I have no intentions on leaving how I came.”

“Is that so?” It happens so quickly. Azriel snatching the male away from you, his fist darting out and connecting with Atlas’ jaw with such precision that the impact sends the Steward’s second in command unconscious on the cobblestone. “Mission’s over,” Azriel all but growls, his grip possessive when pulling you in. “We’re leaving.”

“Azriel,” Your eyes widen, glass slipping from your grasp as your brain moves like molasses when trying to comprehend what you’d witnessed. It doesn't bother Az though, his hand a firm weight at the dip of your back, pinky finger just grazing the curve of your ass with every step. “I wasn’t even close to being finished—he was about to give me everything.”

“Oh, I’m more than aware of what he was about to give you.”

He looks like he’s readying himself to winnow the two of you out of there, thick clouds of shadows materializing around his threatening frame but something forces him to decide against it. His jaw clenches, stance rigid and voice clipped when telling you to 'come this way', taking a sharp left turn before shoving your body inside. “Azriel, what the hell?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” The door slams behind him, lock twisting with a resounding click but none of that distracts from the downright murder-strut Azriel adopts when stalking towards you. Your heart hammers against your chest, heels scraping against the polished floors in your attempts to create space but the male before you eats it all up. “Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?”

The laugh that pushes free is breathless; taken aback. “What?"

A war wages in Azriel's mind as he strains to contain the small semblance of control he's ever been able to gather in your presence. You make him crazy; shove him out of his comfort zone and force him to take risks that his skillful training strictly rejects. You're an enigma, a flame that burns but also provides warmth to those who handle you with care. “I thought you in your leathers was sin.”

You swallow thickly as your body responds to the drop in his voice; the gravel that positively rattles his tone and morphs that strong soldier boy into a predator of a man with ravenous wants and needs. Rapturous desires that plagues his thoughts, tainting his actions and lingering in the void of his shadows with intent to kill.

Shock blends into need as Azriel backs you against the desk, the rigid line of his cock straining against the stitching of his leathers. It digs against your belly; teasing, taunting you with the possibilities. “But then you come waltzing in wearing this dress—cauldron boil me—are you even wearing any underwear?”

"I couldn't," A blush burns at your cheeks, every inch of you sparking to life under his stare. "Mor said panty lines are tacky."

"Then it'd be best you refrain from telling her what happens in here because I'm about to make you sound fucking garish." Hips buck involuntarily, a helpless rut whittling away at whatever self-control Azriel has left. It’s clearly not much because soon his lips are too preoccupied with learning yours and strong hands are busy familiarizing themselves with the curves you usually kept so carefully concealed. Eager fingers run over the tight fabric around your waist, gliding over the length of your stomach and cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbs grazing over peaked nipples. Mapping the canvas of your body like a man starved.

Denying his touch is out of the question; at least that’s what your body decides as it leans into the heavy drag of his weight. For once, you lean into the girlish nature of allowing the male to lead—to comply as Azriel guides your face to his own. Indulging in feverish kisses because he started it and it was only fair for you to finish it.

The lines of friendship blur with his tongue in your mouth and you’re too drunk on the scent of his cologne to question what any of this could mean afterwards. What chaos could ensue from helping him hike the hem of your dress up, up, up with a needy groan. “Can’t believe you hid all of this from me,” Azriel all but whines, golden irises gobbling up the fullness of your thighs. Pupils dilate at your lack of undergarments; the thin leather thigh holsters strapped tight against the muscle of your legs and inky shadows swipe at the weapon secured there—stealing it as a prize.

“Can you blame me?” The words come out breathy, palms dragging along rigid muscle hidden beneath his clothes, nails seconds away from slicing through the offending fabric for more of his warmth, for more of him in general because this male was a thing of dreams. Of carefully curated fantasies that females with far more time on their hands wrote about in their journals. “How would I get any work done with everyone staring at my ass?”

His touch is bold, two fingers sliding between your thighs to slide along the slick that collects between lower lips. "That won't be an issue for you anymore." A gasp forces your lips to part when he circles around your clit, feeling the area around it without actually giving what you want. Azriel likes it more that way; enjoys the ways your legs tremble and chest heaves. "You'll find that people don't stare much at the things that belong to me."

"I'm not yours," You struggle to verbalize the thought fully when he finally applies the right amount of pressure to your neglected bundle of nerves. Quick little circles under the calloused drag of two fingers works a strangled moan free. "I don't belong to anyone," You try to speak it aloud so the point comes across but all that's leaving your lips is pathetic pants of yesyesyes and pretty pleas for moremoremore.

He’s cruel in his torture, pulling his hands away seconds before release can wash over you and a cocky smirk etches in the corner of his mouth. It’s knowing; cognizant of the fact that your orgasm lies in the palm of his hands, rests under the willful press of his fingertips.

“Please?” You whisper, voice cracked; broken, ruined from nothing but his hands alone and you still hadn’t cum yet. Every nerve burns, toes curling, stomach clenching and pussy pulsing around nothing as your hips careen forward—searching for the sweet friction that Azriel just knows how to provide.

You thank the Mother for his lack of revolve, for it had to be her mercy that allows his stubborn defenses to crumble so quickly. To give in and offer everything you’d been begging for . He’s not kind about it; doesn’t coax the orgasm forward but yanks at it like a dog on a leash. It’s claiming the way he watches you through your high, drinking up your sounds and committing the slick sight of you to memory.

He doesn’t even give you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tugging his leathers down his hips, thick fabric bunching at his thighs. “Save your pretty pleas for soft pricks like Aaron.”

“Atlas.”

Azriel’s brow raises, a subtle twitch of muscle that shouldn’t be as threatening as it is. Or at least it wouldn’t be if it wasn’t followed by the ominous drag of his cock through your folds, the heavy weight of him coating itself in your slick.

You know he wants to say something. It’s hanging off the tip of his tongue; some venomous comment fueled by raw, unbridled jealousy. Some sick part of you wants him to say it—maybe then he’ll admit to his feelings; confessing to the tension that permeates when the two of you enter a room or share a joke or brush arms or get a little too heated during training.

“I believe your role tonight is soft and demure,” His voice is deceptively even considering the rough jolt of his hips that bullies the blunt head of his cock deep inside of you. “So don’t use that mouth of yours unless it’s to tell me how good I fucking feel.”

Az holds true to his word because every time your lips part to make some stupid comment for him to slow down or loosen his grip on your hips because you’re sure bruises are forming—Azriel just fucks you harder. Presses the palm of his hand against your mouth to muffle the moans, to seize the symphony of sighs that gasp free when he treats sensitive spots with such aggression.

He can feel your legs shaking, tuts his tongue in hushed amusement when he catches you trying to inch away; searching for a spare second to catch your breath. “Where d’you think you’re going?”

No mercy is shown for your choked breaths when Azriel’s focused on the ripple of your ass with each thrust. “It’s so fucking deep,” The words come out garbled against his palm and it’s only then that he pulls it away, fingers ghosting over the swollen plush of your lips in silent appreciation.

“Filthy pussy’s just sucking me right in,” Your cheeks burn, lids fluttering closed as you try not to acknowledge the fact that his voice and those syllables strung together is just enough to have you clenching around him; slick gushing down the length of him and dripping from the heavy weight of his balls.

A sharp smack of his hand against the fat of your ass; the perfect pinch of pain to accompany the mind-numbing pleasure that wracks through every nerve. “Azriel!”

“Now you remember my name?” His tone is pure venom, every rational part of his brain clouded with envy, leaking with a bitterness that scrunches up the perfect lines of his face. “Can’t believe you were about to give this up to that fucking ingrate.” Cool air breezes against your sex as your ass is lewdly pried open enough for Azriel to stare at the sopping wet mess you make. “Not after I’ve been waiting so godsdammed long for this—for you.” A creamy ring of your cum catches at the base of his cock; cunt clenching over and over and over as he works you through orgasm after orgasm.

Mumbled praises and keening moans are your only reply, knees bending for better leverage as you lean back into the pace he sets. Screw the mission—fuck the objective. Damn anything that wasn’t Azriel and his cock and those perfect hands that claims sweat-slicked skin. You don’t even fight it, succumbing to the pleasure and the male administering it. “Right there!” You barely recognize the sound of your own voice, ears focused on Azriel’s grunts and whispered praises. “So good. So good—fuck!”

“This is mine?” It’s not really a question. That much you know when you feel the pressure of his thumb rubbing circles along your clit. “Say it so I can hear you.”

“Yes!” Eyes roll. Words slur. Fists clutch at polished wood; manicured nails leaving indents in mahogany. “Belongs to you.”

Azriel’s too good—too precise; too determined. Forces him to rut deep and carve out a place inside of you with his name branded on it. Thick ropes of his seed paints quivering walls; claiming with a kind of possessiveness that has your toes permanently curled in your heels.

There’s barely enough time to catch a proper breath or situate your dress when thick wad of papers are smacked before you like a godsdammed gift, all neatly stacked and basically tied with a fucking shadowy bow. All the intel you’d bitched at Az for compromising—written right there in plain sight. “Those are the—you…thank you.”

“Don’t get all sweet for me now,” Azriel muses darkly, affectionately patting at your cheek as if you were some drowsy pup, his head nodding in gesture to the neat stack of stolen papers on the table while swiftly tucking himself away and redoing the ties on his breeches. “I’m only covering for your pretty ass so I can ruin it later.”

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[risuola]

▶ MOM ISSUES — late night talks, cuddles and lots of theatrics. that's what living with your boys mean, but your mom seems to see it a little differently.

contents: college+roommates!au, sa/domestic violence mentioned (it has nothing to do with the story, but it's a warning nonetheless) — wc. 800

a/n: there it is! i've been thinking about this story for months, drafting dozens of scenarios and finally it's happening! this series will be made of short pieces about three best friends turned roommates that slowly realize there's more to it than just friendship. it's not gonna be chronological, more so a series of random moments from their adventure - in the masterlist i'll try and organize it in an order, more or less. also, as you read it, can you hear Suguru's nagging voice when he calls Satoru's name or is it just me?

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

First thing you learned at the beginning of your university journey is that no amount of sleepovers and cuddles could ever justify sharing an apartment with two grown ass men. To your mom, at least, because once you told her that you and your two best friends – Satoru and Suguru – are going to live together, there’s not a single phone call that goes without her assuming you’re being regularly subjected to domestic violence and sexual harassment. They are men, she always tells you and it’s been long since you’ve given up any attempts to tell her otherwise. They were futile after all and what surprised you the most was that your boys are no strangers to her.

With a low grunt you made your way above Satoru’s ass and dropped onto the mattress in the middle. Both men shot you a short glance before resuming their things – the white haired one was playing a game on his phone and the brunette was reading a book.

“How’s mom?” Gojo broke the silence, cutting the thick tension around you with his voice. “Still convinced we’re fucking you dumb every night?”

“Satoru–“ Geto was quick to nag his friend and his manners (lack of them, actually), and the other one didn’t skip a beat before defensively asking “what?”

“No, it’s fine,” you sighed, covering your face with your hands, hoping to squeeze out some stress out of your head that way. “I can’t believe it. She knows you two for over a decade and it’s only now that she’s absolutely convinced I’m being abused even though she knows I’m safe with you.”

“She used to feed us cookies and now what?” Satoru gasped, his theatrics reaching a critical point as he dropped his phone onto the pillow and fake-sniffled dramatically, clutching the fabric of his white shirt over his chest.

“Do you want me to give her a call?” Suguru offered, now focused more on you than on his book. He reached to you, pulling your hands away from your face and brushing some stray hairs away from your forehead. There’s a delicacy to his movements, a subtleness that the other one of your friends lacks and you’re yet again made aware of it, when Gojo throws his arm over your middle, pulling you towards his body as if you weighted nothing.

“No, Sugu, it’s pointless,” you replied, exhaling deeply and patting the strong grip away before it got a chance to suffocate you. The very aggressive cuddle only got more intense and for a brief moment you thought Satoru wanted to squeeze you out like a toothpaste. “Besides, we all know that whenever she talks to any of you, she’s as sweet as honey. It’s only me who has to listen to her weird assumptions.”

Gojo scoffed and giggled at the same time, a huff of air brushed against your cheek as he nuzzled his nose right next to your temple, threatening to bite your cheek. “Told you she’s gonna get addicted to criminal podcasts when you were introducing her to Spotify and you didn’t listen to me,” he said in a light tone and the few seconds of silence that followed made your heart skip few beats. Any sudden loss of words is always a bad sign when it comes to the blue-eyed princess. “Does your mom know about our sleeping situation?”

“Oh god, no,” you whined, pushing his face away before his teeth sunk into the flesh of your cheek that he always insists, reminds him of mochi. Sugar addict.

“Should I accidentally send her a selfie with our bed in the background? On the group chat?”

“Satoru.” Suguru grunted, nagging again and visibly reconsidering all the life choices that led him to being friends with Gojo. You knew that look, you saw it many times over years of friendship with them.

“You can do that, Toru,” you replied, your tone dead serious. “But if you dare, I will change my number into yours in her phone and you’ll be the recipient of the shitshow it will cause. And you know the hell will break loose.”

“Throughout heaven and hell, you alone will be the fucked up one,” Geto mused, pressing the dark red, hand-painted bookmark that you gifted him a year prior, between the pages of his book, ultimately deciding that it’s enough of reading for today.

“Point taken, no pictures then,” Satoru hummed and nodded once, ignoring the obnoxious insult and he let go of you, suddenly not overly dramatic anymore. He got back into indulging his phone-gaming addiction.

You let out a small sound of resignation and helplessness and crawled underneath the sheets. Suguru soon joined you on the pillows and as you quietly chatted the time away, Gojo fell asleep, nuzzled between your shoulder blades.

[yunoclips]

boy toy

“All you have to do is be quiet”. You whisper while straddling the boy underneath you. It’s dark outside and you're not in the house alone. In fact your brother and all his friends are here hanging out. Though you couldn’t be bothered with them , your brother’s closest friend Jaehyun was just a temptation you couldn’t resist any longer.

It started with the subtle glances. Every time you’d come down stairs with tight shorts and form fighting tops he couldn’t help but stare. He was so obvious about it , how pathetic. Then it progressed into slight touches. Grazing your ass while he walks by you in the kitchen. Covering it up with “I’m sorry , I was trying to get a cup”.

He was a himbo. Truly believing you never noticed , but he was in for a surprise when you confronted him.

It was a normal day , all the boys had just gotten back from basketball practice and of course they were hot and hungry. You had gotten out of the pool in your backyard to inform your brother there was cool lemonade in the fridge. Before you went back outside you caught a glimpse of Jaehyun’s face. His mouth was hung open , eyes fixated on your figure. That was your final straw.

When your brother and his friends went up to his room you grabbed Jaehyun by the ear and pulled him outside. Cornering him against a wall , he had no where to hide now. He looked nervous, chest heaving , eyes wandering. He was scared.

“Do you get off on being a creep ?” Slight hints of irritation dripping from your voice.

“W-what are you talking about?” He says in panicked tone.

“I’m not stupid Jaehyun. All the staring , all the hard-on’s you get when I walk downstairs , all the drooling. What’s your problem ?” At that point he knew he had been caught. His mind was racing trying to think of excuses but it was too late.

“I’m sorry.” He says in a defeated tone. Then he starts to go on a panicked ramble. “I know i’m really fucking weird and creepy and you probably hate me I don’t blame you for hating me and-“ Before he finishes getting himself into more trouble, you put a finger to his lips to quiet him down.

You sigh before speaking up. “Listen , I get it. You think i’m really hot and all. But I don’t know". There was a small beat of silence between you two." Aren’t you a little bit ashamed that you’re getting turned on by your best friends sister?” You question. You know he’s feeling shameful but toying with him is entertaining.

“I’m so sorry. P-please just don’t tell him. I’ll leave you alone. You won’t have to worry about me anymore.” He says in a shaky voice. Almost on the verge of tears. Just absolutely pathetic. You decided to just let it rest for now. Nodding your head and releasing him. He said he’d leave you alone but for some reason you weren’t too pleased with that. You started growing fond of the attention.

All that build up has you in the situation you’re in now. The tension between you two becoming so unbearable that you couldn’t resist any longer. When nobody was looking you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to your bedroom quickly locking the door behind you.

In a wave of confusion he starts speaking.

“W-what are you doing , I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore an-“

“Tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop.” You say cutting him off. A beat passes and all you receive is a nod. The tension in the room so thick that it was almost suffocating.

“You need to use your words baby.” you say while intensely staring into his eyes.

“I want this.”

“Good. Get on the bed and take your pants off.”

You watch as he follows your orders , you then turn around and quickly strip completely naked. Nd now here you were straddling him telling him to be quiet.

“You know you have beautiful eyes right Jaehyunnie ?” You say in a seductive tone.

“I want you to keep those eyes on me. If you look away i’ll stop.”

He slowly nods his head and glues his eyes on your face. With that you start to sink down on his hardened cock. He feels so good.

“Mmm fuck , should’ve fucked you a long time ago. Such a big dick. Sad that you don’t know how to use it. Too busy being a creep and drooling over your friends sister” You say slightly winded by the length and girth of his cock.

He gasps loudly and starts to breathe erratically when you bottom out. Long whines start to spill out of his mouth. He tosses his head back against the head board creating a thud sound. You’re enveloping his cock like a warm tight hug.

You lightly land a slap on his face to bring him back to his senses. The slap making his cock twitch inside of you. His mouth falls agape and he lets out a high pitched groan.

“I thought I told you to be quiet and keep your eyes on me. Bad enough you’re a creepy perv jerking off to your best friends sister. Now you can’t even follow directions.”

You pause and lean down next to his ear . Pressing your lips so closely to it that he can hear each breath that you take.

“If you make another sound i’m gonna leave you here desperate and crying with an aching cock.”

With that he shuts up. When you lift yourself you can see his eyes follow your every move. Pupils already dilated and completely glossed.

You plant your hands on his hard chest and bunch up his shirt in your fists for more stability. Then you start to bounce up and down on his cock in a moderate pace. You can see him trying his hardest to prevent his eyes from rolling.

His tongue is lolling out of his mouth. You could see a groan bubble in his chest but he quickly covers his mouth with his hands.

You start to speed up your pace, pleasuring bubbling in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes watch the way Jaehyun’s stomach contracts. His abs tensing. You started hearing small cries coming from behind his hand.

“Look at you. Such a pathetic perv , crying from being fucked.”

That sets him off. The next second he starts mewling into his hand. Back arching , Eyelids twitching. You can tell it’s a struggle for him to keep his eyes focused on you. You can feel his cock throb , heavy spurts of thick cum filling up the condom. His breathing going too quickly for him to comprehend. His eyes go fuzzy, ears ringing and his head hurts from the strain.

Then everything comes to a halt. He lies back on the bed completely boneless. You collapse on top of him. The orgasm completely tiring you. You roll off of him to catch a breath. Walking with slightly wobbly legs to go pee and wipe yourself up. When you come back to your bed Jaehyun was still in the same position you left him in. Staring at the ceiling, breathing slowly with his mouth slightly opened. The closer you stepped to the bed , you could see that his hand was shiny. The moon light was shining on all of the drool that seeped out of his mouth when he was covering himself.

“What a loser” you chuckle to yourself.

You sit beside him on your bed and tap him. He slightly turns his head over so it could face you.

“Hey big boy , you need to get it together . Gotta get back out there before they start looking for you.” He doesn’t reply , his eyes are just glued on you.

You grab his pants and throw it at him before going back in the bathroom and turning on the shower.

When you finally get out , you see that he isn’t there anymore. You sigh and wrap a towel around yourself. Before you make any further movements you can hear a glimpse of the conversation happening right outside of your bedroom door.

“You good Jae ? You look stoned and sick. Why is your face wet? Don’t tell me you smoked without us.”

It was your brother questioning Jaehyun.

You chuckle to yourself. You may have just found a new boy toy.

[sorchathered]

The Stakes are High, but this love is ours.

————————————————————————

Pairing- Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Warnings - Language, Sexual themes

Summary - There’s a new analyst in town, no one can seem to get a read on her. What’s she hiding, and what do they have to do with Hangman?

———————————————————————

It’s been such a weird week. Everybody’s been stressed to the limit over the mission coming up, but then adding a new analyst to the fray just a few weeks before it begins throws a wrench into the dynamic. There’s nothing wrong with her, insanely beautiful in that southern belle kind of way, smart as a whip and quick with a comeback. She was definitely a good fit for this mission, where others in her field had been struggling to get the plans in order you’d found a solution almost instantly, making everyone breathe a little easier as they geared up for what was sure to be a rough one.

But Phoenix can’t help but notice something is off, Y/N won’t go out with the crew after work, and has somehow got North Island’s resident Ken doll so flustered he can’t seem to do anything but mope like a kicked puppy. He’s always been friendly, never interested in taking a girl home at night like Bradshaw or some of the other guys, so she always just chalked it up to him having someone back home. Normally she’d enjoy watching him verbally go toe to toe with someone and get his ass handed to him but honestly this was just sad. Lieutenant L/N was ruthless, no matter how much game Hangman had, she shot him down with a look and sent him on his way with his tail between his legs.

Today was no different, Mav decided another game of dog fight football would be good for morale and the two of you had been dancing around each other all day, an almost annoying amount of sexual tension was in the air and it was starting to get ridiculous.

Jogging back up to your beach chair to get some water, you realized Natasha was hot on your heels.

“Hey girl, need a drink? What’s up”

Phoenix knew she didn’t know the girl well but screw it, it couldn’t hurt to give a little push could it?

“You and Hangman need to just fuck and get this over with Y/N, poor guy might explode if you don’t just admit you like him too.”

You spray the water that you had just gulped into the sand, gasping for air and looking at her like she’d just grown three heads.

“I- what?!” You spluttered, you knew Phoenix wasn’t exactly subtle but Jesus.

“You guys have been doing this dance for weeks and I’m sure it’s been fun, trust me it’s always a blast to watch Seresin get knocked down a peg but the poor guy is so goo goo for you and you know you have him totally wrapped. He’s hot, you’re hot and you obviously like each other so just throw him a bone, might be fun!”

She throws her head back and laughs, clapping you on the shoulder before running back towards the guys leaving you bewildered in her wake.

Had it been that obvious that the two of you were into each other? Jake was a flirt for sure, just part of who he was but you definitely thought you’d been more discreet.

Hours go by and as the sun goes down everyone begins to pack it up, most of them heading to the Hard Deck for drinks or back home. You lingered a little in the parking lot letting everyone leave before you made your way to your car. Just as you are done throwing on your shorts and packing up your trunk you feel a pair of strong arms around your waist and relax into his touch. There he is, Jake Seresin, not his larger than life Hangman persona, just your Jake.

He leans in to press kisses to your neck, getting a little braver and handsy now that the lot is empty of his squad.

“You looked hot as hell today sugar, do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you when you look this good?” Running his hands up and down your sides you sigh and melt into him. He’s fully enveloped your senses now, makes it almost impossible to come up with a coherent thought that doesn’t include jumping his bones right here.

“I-well- you can’t always be the prettiest one in this relationship princess” you say, turning in his arms to face him and giving him the sloppiest lovedrunk look, it’s almost embarrassing how he renders you stupid even now.

He barks out a laugh and peppers kisses all over your cheeks, basking in the ability to just be Jake and Y/N after having to keep up the act at work.

“Soooo about that, we are gonna have to tell people soon baby, Phoenix corned me earlier and told me I should take pity on you and just take you to bed” you erupt in giggles at the look on his face, he ranges from shocked to embarrassed in a matter of seconds, pulling back a little to rub his hand over his face.

“Shit, and here I thought we were being subtle, but I guess having to stare at my wife at work all day and not being allowed to touch her like I want is making my self control non existent.” He looks at you sheepishly, it’s honorable at the effort he puts in to keep your relationship safe from the prying eyes of the navy, even though all he really wants is to be out in the open.

“We can always just drop the facade Jake, I know you try to keep it quiet for my sake and I know it’s been difficult. Trust me I find it harder and harder every day to keep work and home separate, especially seeing you in your flight suit every day.” You comically wiggle your eyebrows at him and smack his ass but he just shakes his head, knowing you’re trying to break the tension. You sigh and press a kiss to his cheek, “If it’s this hard for both of us to keep it a secret I can just lay it all out for the team. Honestly, you might as well let someone other than Javy know that the Hangman has a soul.”

He just laughs, he’s always wanted to protect your career, knows it’s hard enough as a woman in a military setting but being married to one of the best naval aviators in the country and also trying to make your own name in your field just makes it harder. Someone inevitably makes a comment about how you got where you are because of Jake and then you have to beg him to keep his nose clean, it was just easier when you were asked to consult on this mission for Top Gun (a super prestigious honor in itself), if you came to Fightertown as Y/N L/N, not Mrs. Jake Seresin.

“If you’re ready to take the leap baby you know I’ll follow your lead. I just want you to know how important you are to me no matter what you decide.”

You could swoon over this man, he never ceases to be full of love and support even when you know keeping your relationship private is a strain on him. Looking up at him with a big grin you lean in and kiss him.

“Come on lover, let’s get you home so I can fuck your brains out and get your head back in the game for this mission. Your poor team might go insane if they have to watch me fake hate you for one more minute” he follows you to your door, spinning you around to cage you in and initiate a kiss that quickly borders inappropriate before you smack at his chest and say something along the lines of keep it in your pants until we get home cowboy.

You hear him give a disgruntled comment as he heads to his side of the car after shutting your door, “I mean I think it’s hot, the whole pretending to hate me thing, kind of like role playing” and you cackle at how ridiculous he is, just as much of a horn dog for you as he was when you finally started dating near the end of his first big mission almost 5 years ago.

Back then he had just gotten his callsign, everyone thought he was a big bad asshole with a God complex but with you he was just your Jake. His mama had taught him to be nothing less than the perfect gentleman and he had you hooked by the end of your first date, unashamedly telling you after kissing you that he could do that for the rest of his life. Needless to say it didn’t take long before you had a ring on your finger, so wrapped up in love Javy calling you both vomit inducing on more than one occasion.

Monday comes all too soon, the mission now a week out, you’d spent the weekend effectively relaxing your husband by taking him apart bit by bit until he was fully back to his normal self. After breakfast that may or may not have resulted in you bent over the kitchen counter you finally pull into the parking lot with time to spare by Jake’s truck. Peeking around to see if anyone is looking you lean up to kiss him, grabbing a handful of his ass in his flight suit quickly dodging him and laughing before he can really get his hands on you.

“I’ll see you for dinner!” He says shaking his head and you wave wildly at him rushing through the hangar door.

What you don’t see is a gobsmacked Baby Bob Floyd parked on the other side of the lot, fumbling with his phone as he whispers “Omg wait until Phoenix hears this.”

Tags- @mamachasesmayhem

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Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[lyramundana]

lyra lyra lyra because we talked about omegaverse –

wild, angry, possessive rut/heat sex between alpha!minho, alpha!reader/vivi and omega!jisung

i wanna see the two alphas fucking each other stupid and jisung getting off majorly on watching and being dragged in between them 😵‍💫

Lucky for you, I already imagined an omegaverse au with Vivi, so I have plenty to share~

My girl can only be an alpha, sorry but that's how it is. It's her nature, and that gives an extra reason of why she and Minho clash so much. They're both territorial, stubborn and pride themselves in their authority over others. Minho doesn't take it kindly when people try to touch what's his, and when Vivi wants something, she gets it at any cost. And in this case, Jisung is what she wants.

(this got way longer than anticipated, so beware)

ANGRY WOLVES

Warnings: Established polyamorous relationship, omegaverse, 2 alphas and 1 omega, angry sex, penetration, unprotected sex (no hat, no party), voyeurism, subtle PDA, third pov perspective, not entirely reliable narrator, spit, nipple stimulation (f! receiving) switch minho, switch oc! (they both try to dominate the other), sub! jisung, boy x boy action, some verbal degradation

It's not easy at first and it's obvious to everyone the two alphas only co-exist for Jisung's sake, since he claimed them both as his mates and they're way too possessive to let go of him. But they're not friends, Hell, they can barely spend five minutes in the same room without insulting and attacking each other. The tension is always thick with them around and people unconsciously drift away from them in fear for turning into "collateral damage".

It's all a competition with the two of them, specially when it comes to their beloved Omega. When heat/rut comes, that time of the year they spent weeks locked in a room and fucking Hannie until he faints, they push each other, trying to overdo the other in terms of hickeys and orgasms, seizing their bite marks so they're bigger than the other. At the end, Jisung's body is just a canvas covered in red, purple and yellowish bruises, with two big bite marks on his neck, proudly displayed. Luckily, this rivalry means Jisung is always twice as spoiled and cared for than anyone, and overall treated like a prince, provoking the envy from some Omegas.

At first sight, one would think the love only goes for Jisung and the other two hate each other. And to some extent, it is true. Even Jisung believed this, much to his sadness.

Until that night.

They were hanging out with their friends in their regular club. Dressed for the occasion, a couple of disagreements before leaving the house (guess from who), spicy compliments that definitely held a second meaning and sitting in their own corner with a table full of drinks and snacks. It was enjoyable.

They were mostly Jisung and Minho's friends, although Vivi got along with them just fine and was seemingly having fun chatting. Of course, her and Minho couldn't stay five minutes without bickering about something, but at least they weren't beating each other into pulps (Jisung already witnessed that, and as hot as it was, he didn't like them injured). Minho had one arm wrapped around his shoulders and Vivi at his other side, hand comfortable placed in his thigh.

Then, someone complained about a few empty bottles and Vivi offered to go and refill them herself. She stood up the table, "accidentally" kicking Minho out of her way, which earned a low growl from the older and a mocking chuckle from her part. While the rest kept talking, Jisung couldn't help but admire her backside as she retreated, the delicious skin exposed with the open cut in the damn back dress, ending right before her ass started.

He felt Minho's fingers twitching in his shoulders, and when he turned to look at him, he found something...weird to say the least. The alpha's eyes were fixed on Vivi's figure as she walked, eyes dark and focused with a feeling akin to anger, which wasn't surprising. But as Jisung looked closer, he also noticed a predatory glint in them. It reminded him of how Minho looked at him during his rut. A wolf watching his chosen prey, calculating the best moment to sink his fangs into helpless creature.

It was the first time Jisung saw that glance directed at someone else, and the last person he expected. That's what convinced him that he was just overanalyzing things. There was no way Minho looked at Vivi with anything remotely positive, at least as far as he knew. Yeah, he was most likely imagining things, but well, one could hope, right?

He doesn't recall how much timed passed, probably some minutes, but he was already light-headed when talking to Felix, both of them discussing the complexity of pigeons' lives and how fascinating they were. Minho had dissapeared to the bathroom for a moment, leaving him unsupervised, so really it was his fault. When he returned, he stared at the table with a frown.

-She hasn't returned yet? -he looked at his watch, then at Jisung's empty sides.

The boys looked around too.

-I don't think so.

-There's a shit ton of people, maybe she's struggling to get through. - Felix shrugged his shoulders. - And it's harder while carrying drinks.

Jisung worried a bit, but quickly recomposed. Knowing Vivi, she would growl at anyone that got in her way and step over them if necessary. She would be fine.

But for some reason, Minho only frowned deeper. He turned his head on all directions, looking almost frantically for something. Jisung noticed how his eyes got lighter and his sharp fangs started to grow.

He was activating his hunting senses. He usually did it when they were in big crowds and one of them accidentally strayed too far from the group, so he could find them quickly. But why would he activate them now? They were all okay, and Vivi would come back soon. Weird...

Then Changbin called their attention.

-Hold on, I see her. She's right there..oh, and she got my favourite! I love her!

Jisung turned at the direction and there she was, a tray filled with drinks in her hand and the other fixing her collar. She was talking to the bartender, who was casually leaning against the counter and explaining something. They were both smiling, acting like they knew each other.

Jisung could sense the guy was an alpha too, his pheromones were pretty damn recognizable. He exuded confidence and strenght, but unlike Minho, his aura felt softer and more aproachable at first sight.

He felt something churn in his chest at the sight of Vivi giggling at his comments and clearly in no hurry to return. He knew it was stupid. He carried her mark his neck, imprinted in his skin for the world to see. There should be no doubt who she wanted.

Before he could say anything, he heard Felix gasping quietly besides him and grab his arm. Then Jisung felt it too. A thick, low growl sounded next to him and made him want to hide under the table.

Minho had his fists clenched on his pants, eyes darker than ever and fixed on the bartender. He clicked his tongue with a humourless smile and walked towards them with long steps.

-Uh oh, that doesn't look good - Changbin muttered.

Jisung stared at his boyfriend, wary and confused. He had the exact same face when someone flirted with Jisung, or he flirted with them, or when he was in danger. A gaze that promised a very uncomfortable time to whoever poor soul was involved.

He didn't knew if it was for Vivi or the bartender this time, but one thing was clear: He needed to hear it himself, so he stood up quickly and aproached them, just enough to listen without being seen.

-Having fun, I see. - Minho stopped right in front of them. Vivi muttered some curses while the other alpha looked at him curiously.

-What do you want? -she barely concealed her annoyment.

He scoffed, crossing his arms at her with a forced grin.

-Seriously? So this is why you offered to refill the drinks, to flirt with a random guy? You're really something else.

-For fuck's sake, Minho, we're just having a normal conversation. Can't I do anything without your input?

-Normal converstation? You look ready to throw yourself at him. What is it? You stop being the centre of attention for five minutes and start acting like a whore? -he let out an humourless chuckle.

Jisung wanted to bang his head against the counter. What the hell? Couldn't he speak without putting his foot in his mouth? That was too much even for him.

Vivi clenched the tray, eyes darker too and full of murderous intent. Suddenly, the other alpha growled at him and pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

-Hey, back the fuck off, dude. We were just chatting, no need to be an asshole. - he shook his head. - No wonder she prefers my company tho, if this is what awaits her back there.

Vivi threw him an intense glare, making him confused, and Minho turned his head at him slowly. The tension turned so thick out of a sudden that Jisung felt he couldn't breathe. It seemed to be the same for the rest, since people started to move further from the three.

-The fuck did you say, dipshit? -his voice sounded scarily calm.

-Minho, that's enough. Leave. -she grabbed his arm anxiously, and he didn't pull back. Jisung didn't recall them touching each other unless it was to fight or accidental.

-I said that I understand she preferred to stay here, given your psycopathic attitude. Guys like you don't know how to treat alpha women like they deserve.

Minho laughed mockingly.

-Oh, let me guess, you do?

-Better than you, definitely. I would be more than glad to prove it. - he gave her a knowing look. Her eyes widened.

Everything happened in a flash, but Jisung remembers how Minho growled loudly and how he held the other alpha by the throat, pressing him against the very same counter. There were gasps and whispers around them.

His face was distorted to show his true side, the wolf side. Eyes twinkling in black, covering the entire pupil, and fangs fully out, showing them in a snarl. The other boy mirroring his stance, both glaring at each other and struggling. Their pheromones were so strong it got everyone who wasn't an alpha move away in fear, even Jisung felt the need to escape.

-Say that again, you son of a bitch. I dare you.

-Go fuck yourself. You barged here, acting like a dick, and expect me to bow down to you? She should give you the boot and be with someone at her level.

-She doesn't need anyone else. She knows better, so shut your mouth before I break it.

-Why? Because it hurts your ego?

-Because I'll fucking kill anyone she dares to leave me for.

Jisung can't hear anything after.

There's...so much he has to process. So much signals in just a few seconds.

"Leave me". Not him, or us. "Me".

Like she's actually his, not just a third-party or the "homewrecker". He speaks of the possibility of her leaving like it'll affect him too, beyond what Jisung would feel.

Then a sudden realization hits him: This isn't a first time thing.

Just how long has this been going on under his nose? How could he not see it?

And most importantly, what is this warm feeling growing inside his chest?

Vivi finally intervenes, stepping between them and yanking Minho backwards with harsh force. She bares her own fangs and flashing eyes the moment they try to growl at her, asserting her dominance too.

-I said enough. You're embarrassing yourselves. -she glares at Minho. - You just don't know when to stop, don't you? I can't so much breathe without you ruining it.

She walks away from them, towards the bathrooms hall, leaving the drinks behind. Minho doesn't waste a second before following her hurriedly, annoyed. Jisung does the same, if only to get them alone and ask them what the fuck was that.

There was a problem, however: Their legs were longer than his and he soon lost sight of them. He guided himself through the smells, until he found them again, both standing strangely close and speaking in angry voices. Minho's agressive pheromones were still coming off waves from his body, but Vivi didn't even blink, holding his piercing eyes with her usual defiance.

-I just can't believe you pulled that shit, Lee. God, how can you be so inmature?

-I'm sorry for interrupting your eye-fucking session with the guy.

-For fuck's sake, Minho, there wasn't any "fucking"! I just had him refill the bottles and then he started to talk to me. I wasn't going to be a rude bitch and push him off, like you do. -she scoffed. - Besides, he was being ten times nicer than you've ever been. It's rare to find such chemistry with another alpha male, you know? So forgive me for indulging him.

Minho doesn't like that comment, which it's obvious when he pushes her against a wall with a low growl. She stumbles at the shove but quickly recomposes herself, laying her weight against the wall with her arms crossed. Like having Minho caging her like that, faces inches away from hers, is completely normal. Jisung never understood her nonchalantly in these cases (he always crumbled when Minho acted like that) but her indifference was very hot too.

-Shut the fuck up. We both know that whiny bitch wouldn't have met your high standards. - he relaxes a bit.- And you're utterly incapable of looking at anyone but Jisung, which I respect.

-If you know that already, what was that about? I'll never betray him, so why-

-And me? What about me, uh? Would it be easier for you to betray me, then?

She looks bewildered at first, then wary, with some kind of understanding in her eyes.

-Minho...-she sighs.

-He was devouring you with his filthy eyes, like he had any right to do so. -he gritted his teeth, his fists clenching next to both sides of her head. - And you were letting him-shit, i can still smell him.

-I don't care if he wants me. I know where my place is, as you so kindly told him. -she replies acidly. - I'm not interested in fucking someone else. It's just, well, it felt nice to get along so well with a male alpha for once. To not be constantly "faring my teeth", expecting an attack or an insult to defend myself from. -she sighs, sounding more tired. - Simply talking to someone that understands me in ways others can't, with no violence.

Silence reigns in the hall, and Jisung feels his chest constrict at her words. He's so used to see her fighting Minho back, see her so confident and allmighty...he never considered she might felt a bit lonely. That ,maybe, she craved that sense of comradery with other alphas, that mutual understanding that only comes from those who are like you. Who share your same instincts and body functions.

Something Jisung couldn't give her, and Minho never tried to.

The older male seems thoughtful for a bit, his frown even softening a little. He breathes on her mouth.

-You don't need others for that, specially not men. -his voice is low, almost a whisper, and his eyes don't move from hers. - I'm right here.

His fingers move to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her shoulders tense.

-And you know -his nose brushes her ear as his fingers trace the veins of her neck. - how well we understand each other. -She doesn't move, just blinks at him.

Jisung can't.fucking.breathe.

What the fuck is this?!

He feels his skin getting warmer and warmer, his palms sweaty and his throat dry. It's like the world is spinning around him, deadly fast, and he can't keep up. He's receiving too many signals, too many messages in a too short time, and his half-drunk ass brain can't process them all.

"and you know how well understand each other"

It could've been sarcastic, that would've been Jisung's assumption, considering their relationship. But that was before he saw Minho's reaction to that bartender, before seeing Vivi touching him in a comforting gesture and Minho accepting it.

Before seeing this scene in front of him. This...whatever it's happening right now.

Jisung has seen those gazes in their eyes a handful of times, and it's always directed at him. The hunger and the heavy breathing, usually as they both wreck him to tears. In his most secret fantasies, he can pretend they look at each other like that too.

Maybe he's in a dream right now?

His eyes are fixed in them, barely blinking, in case he mixes a crucial second. The two dominant beasts keep staring into each other's eyes, enganging in a silent battle for who's weaker. However, the way their mouths brush, Minho's slow fingers and Vivi's mid-open lips, it feels less like an argument and more like..a prelude for something else.

Jisung feels the blood rush to his dick at a worrying speed. His pants get tighter and uncomfy as they continue to seize each other with that fucking bedroom eyes. He has no other definition.

He's faint when he sees Vivi's arm sliding up to Minho's neck, hugging him by the shoulders, as the other grabs his belt.

-Min..-she whispers, her lips brushing his as she speaks, and both men take deep, shaky breaths. She looks at him in wonder.

Then her mouth moves next to his ear, teeth nibbling the skin.

-A whore, you said?

And her knee collides against Minho's very delicate zone, inmediatly making him jump away from her. Even Jisung flinches in ghost pain, shocked.

Holy shit, what was that about?!

While Minho groans in the floor, face all scrunched up and furrowed eyebrows, Vivi crouchs next to him and snarls.

-Call me a whore again and I'll kick them all the way to your guts -she spits out.- Fucking asshole.

She stood up and left the hall hurriedly with angry steps, the clicking of her heels resonating in the now quiet, unmoving hall.

Jisung stood in the dark, his croch now completely soft again, and frozen. Minho muttering curses as he stood up caught his attention and he eventually ran to him, pretending he didn't witness anything.

-Hyung, what happened? I lost you guys in the crowd, and when I finally find you I see her leaving with smoke coming out her nose and you here. What the hell? -he grabs him by his arms, pushing him up and worriedly checking between his legs. He hopes there's not an irremedable damage...

Minho growls at her mention and hastily brushes Jisung off, now cursing loudly.

-Fucking bitch -he readjusted his shirt. - She and her twisted little games. Ohh, when I get my hands on her again, she better pray..

-The only one who's going to pray it's you. -Minho stared at him, confused. -What? You think I didn't see what you did to that poor man? I'm pissed, Lee Minho. You ruined our night with your shit again, so pray that the couch is specially comfy and warm tonight.

The alpha's eyes widen almost comically. Almost, because Jisung can't find it in himself to see anything comically now.

Before he tries to explain himself, Jisung leaves to follow Vivi's trail. Definitely not thinking about that weird, intense display from earlier. Yep, definitely not remembering. It was probably a misunderstanding from the alcohol, yeah.

That said, he couldn't help but pay a bit more attention to his partners since that night.

Initially nothing seemed different. The usual bickering, the backhanded compliments, the pranks aimed to hurt rather than laugh, the shattered furniture from their fights, the noise complaints from neighbours. There was nothing about them that could lead anyone to think they felt anything other than hatred for each other. Jisung started to assume he imagined everything back in the club, that the alcohol messed up with this senses.

But there were these tiny details, rare and hard to notice unless you were looking closely, that triggered his observational skills. Like when he caught them once in the kitchen, heatily arguing about what they should eat that day. It wasn't anything strange...except for Minho's slender fingers playing with the belt loop of her jeans as she spoke, and her own hands grasping the front of his sweater.

Or how insistent was Minho about undoing her bra strings with her shirts on, as another antic to annoy her. It wasn't weird for him to use all the tricks in his book to piss her off, but Jisung finally realized how often he relied on that particular one. And most curiously, how Vivi's reactions seemed more amused than irritated. Or the way she always picked on when Minho's shirt collar was off and took it upon herself to fix it, even if grumpily and still commenting how horrible he looked.

When they had sex, everything was a competition and Jisung the playground. They focused mostly on driving his mind to new limits with pleasure and leave him shaking in the bed, trying to outdo the other in who could pull more orgasms out of the omega, or who got the best reactions from him. This tended to include attacking each other in the duration of it, which meant biting and scratching the other until the skin was covered in bruises and even blood sometimes. In the haze of his overstimulated mind, Jisung struggled to remember the exact moments when this happened, and it's not like he didn't leave his own share of marks on them too, so he couldn't be sure which was his and theirs.

Regardless, he couldn't help but question their fixation for always bruising each other, one way or another. In and outside the bedroom.

Truly, it was only a matter of time that the truth was exposed for Jisung. And in a quite interesting way.

He was out for some emergency shopping for his partners' upcoming rut, leaving them at home fighting for the TV remote control. Just when he was paying for the stuff, he got a message for one of his neighbours and sighed tiredly. They only had each other's numbers to talk about important matters about the apartment building...or to complain to Jisung about the noise from his flat, usually caused by his partners.

"Mr Han, I understand that, as young people, you tend to have certain physical needs and enjoy satiating them with your lovers, but could you please do it a bit more quietly? My ears would very much appreciate it. Please and thank you"

Jisung could perfectly imagine her passive agressive voice as she said that. He chuckled at it, shaking his head and closing the phone.

But wait, what? What "intimate activities" she was talking about? He was out of the house and as far he was concerned, Minho and Vivi were the only ones there.

"They must be breaking stuff again. Jeez" It happened more often that he'd like. They never held back on their "disagreements" and they ended up ruining furniture more than once. Broken glass, thrown down chairs, cracks in the walls, etc.

He told them he'll take longer to go back home, since he also wanted to get some coffee first, but he decided to return inmediatly this time, leaving the drinks behind. He was sick of replacing his stuff because of their lack of self-control, and he also refused to suffer another embarrasing lecture from the landlord.

As Jisung went up the stairs to his apartment, he distinguished the noises of bodies repeteadly colliding against the wall and things falling down the ground, either dragged or kicked out of the way. He wouldn't be susprised they were actually throwing stuff at each other.

When he got to the door, however, he had a strange feeling in his chest. He looked back at all those small details he picked on between them for the past weeks, and that very particular interaction in the club that he still wasn't totally sure it happened.

His hand moved the doorknob slowly, finding what appeared the aftermath of a battle inside, and he felt his body pressure go down abruptly. Chairs thrown to the floor, furniture moved out of place, collisions on the wall, the usual...along with a pair of shorts and a crumpled shirt. Both clothes seemingly tore open, like they were ripped off crudely.

But that wasn't the only reason his heart suddenly stopped, choking him. No. It was the loud, angry growls coming from the bedroom, followed by some occasional moans.

With trembling legs, he walked in that direction, slowly and quietly to not be detected. On the way, he found a belt, Minho's pants and the crop top Vivi had been wearing before he Jisung left. Or what was left of them, now turned into shreds of cloth.

A familiar angry voice sounded from the bedroom.

-Watch it, asshole, this is one of my favourite p-ah! -she stopped halfway to moan.

-Shut it. You shouldn't be wearing anything, then I wouldn't have to tear it off. - Minho. He sounded breathless, urgent even, but Jisung knew every note of his voice to feel his smirk as he talked.

They spoke in rushed tones, clashing against something as they did. She chuckled.

-Please, still with excuses? You're a fucking animal. Even if I walked around naked, you'll lunge at me to sink your-

Minho growled and Jisung distinctively heard another thud, harder than the previous one.

-You really can't keep your mouth shut, right? -his voice sounds muffled by something. - Not even now.

She let out a pained moan, making Jisung's jeans even tighter around his dick.

-Mhm, if only there was something to occupy my mouth with~ -she giggled breathlessly. This time it was Minho who laughed, with that raspy voice of his from when he's very turned on.

-You're a fucking slut, I always knew. -he sighed, followed by a serie of wet, smooching sounds.

Jisung felt his head bobbling to the side and his feet melting on the floor. His fingers twitched as his member pulsed inside his boxers, fighting the urge of grasp it in his hand and aliviate himself.

He still wasn't 100% sure his brain wasn't making this up, after all.

-And yet your dick is throbbing inside this slut. -her voice becomes a sultry whisper.

Minho groaned, and Jisung's hand pushed the door slowly before he could think.

And what he saw made his knees almost give up on him.

Vivi's sweaty, bruised body pressed against the wall, the dresser digging into her lower back. She had fingerprints on her hips, dark and purple and painfully looking. Her bra was ripped from one side, exposing her right boob, while the other remained half-covered by the part that wasn't obviously mistreated. Her panties, or what was left of them, hanging from her thigh. Cuts and teeth marks painted her skin, some even bleeding a bit, but she didn't seem the slighest of bothered by it, smirking down at the equally sweaty and bruised male holding her up as he mouthed down at her neck hungrily.

Minho had his own skin decorated with red, angry lines on his back left by her sharp nails and bite marks all over his body. A hand keeping a vice grip under her knee as the other grabbed her by the waist, leaving his fingertips imprinted on her in dark, purple lines by how harshly he was grabbing her. His hips were trapped between her legs, grinding against her with slow but strong movements, as he trapped her against him tightly, almost strongly enough to cut her breath.

Jisung feels his throat go dry at the visual confirmation that, indeed, Minho's thick cock is throbbing inside Vivi's cunt. He watches as it pushes in and all the way out of her wet, inviting hole, her delicious essence dripping to the floor and enveloping Minho's hard member in a slippery sheen. Jisung licked his lips instinctively at the image, eager and craving to taste both of his favourite treats together.

Then it dawns him, within the fog of horniness and desire, that holy shit they're actually doing it, they're fucking each other what the hell-

Vivi lets out a gasp and pulls Minho's head back from her neck by grabbing his hair. He groans in protest, but has a satisfied grin on his face.

-You son of a bitch, you seriously tried to mark me?? -she seethes, her worlds trembling in anger and desire, her lips brushing his.

His grin grows more sinister.

-Like you wouldn't like me doing it, you slut. -he nuzzles her collarbone, letting his sharp teeth caress her skin.

She growls and pushes herself off the wall, making Minho's stumbling backwards and towards the bed. He quickly grabs her thighs to keep her up, before breathing sharply when she nibbles her earlobe, licking it after.

-God, I'm going to fucking destroy you. -he groans, and his voice sounds so deep and raspy it makes Jisung's painfully hard cock start leaking in his pants. Whenever that voice comes out of Minho, it means Jisung is going to get fucked mercilessly for the alpha's sole pleasure, and his body has the reminders of it impregnated in his cells.

In a swipe movement, Minho turned her around and fell into the bed with her still in his arms, caging her body against the matress and devouring her mouth, ripping off the rest of her already destroyed underwear. A messy fight for dominance begins, like everything that goes on between them, with tongues and spit and wet sounds along with the skin colliding against each other. She finishes getting rid of his boxers, and Jisung knew he couldn't get any harder.

His hand was squeezing the head of his cock before his brain could process it was happening, pants undone and boxers right on his knees, hastly discarded just enought to let his hand in. His eyes rolled back white at the so needed relief, biting his lip painfully to keep a high-pitched moan inside his mouth, along with his growing drool.

A loud slap echoed in the room, followed by a whine and some thrashing in the sheets.

-Aw, there she is. Are you going to make those adorable sounds I like so much? -he grinned against her lips, a string of saliva connecting them. He traced her mouth with enraptured attention as the other travelled slowly from her ass to her inner thighs. She groaned with a pout, hitting him with her knee to push him, making him tsk and sigh dramatically. -I guess not now.

-Stop talking and fuck me already. It's all you're good for. -her tone was exactly the same kind of annoyed as when she spoke to him usually, but there was also this underlayed impatience and desesperation in it that told a different story. That, and the way her legs wrapped around his waist to lock him in place.

He chuckled, almost delighted.

-So you admit my dick is good enough? -he nibbled her lips. -Looks like we're progressing.

She groaned and tried to slap him. He caught her wrist mid-air, his cheeky smile fading off and replaced by a furious scowl. He grabbed both of her hands and pressed them to both sides of her head.

-Ungrateful, insolent bitch. You don't deserve my dick inside you. I should've-

She shifted her weight to her legs and switched positions, trapping him underneath her with his waist still between her knees. Before he could verbalize his surprise, she grabbed his throat.

-Minho -she sighed as her nails drew some blood in his neck. He groaned.- Shut the fuck for once, would you?

And she proceeds to ride him at an inhuman speed.

He started to let raspy ah's as she picked up her pace, throwing his head back as a a sheen of sweat became visible on his forehead and broad chest, which was also covered in bloody scratches. She moaned in pure satisfaction, burying her head on his shoulders and biting. She continued to fuck herself on him, keeping him inmovilized from his hips and down.

-Look at you now, so c-compliant and cute. This is-fuck!-is how you should be everyday.

-I swear to God, Vivi, let me-oh shit-let me move or else.

-Or what?

That was it. Jisung knew at that moment that porn was ruined for him forever. Nothing, not even his most recurrent fantasies, would ever compare to this absolute wonder his eyes were witnessing. He tried to match the tempo of his own strokes to that of Vivi's hips as Minho's dick kept dissapearing inside her, his pre-cum already falling in drops to the floor and staining his jeans. He bite back a moan at the image, eyes growing wet at the overwhelming emotions and pleasure.

Then, Minho growled and wrapped an arm around her back, while the other sneaked in between their bodies. She whined in protest, fighting to break off his grip, until her eyes widened and she let out a sinful mewl. He chuckled darkly, and Jisung held his breath when he realized the older alpha's fingers rubbing her clit.

-Oh? Where did all that bravery go, kitty? You were so high up there..

-Oh my god, finally! Don't stop, Minho. Don't you fucking dare to stop, or I'll rip out your throa-ah!

Her head fell on the pillows beside his head, gripping his shoulders as she turned into a moaning mess, but Minho wasn't much better, letting out a series of curses and groans himself. Vivi threw a choked scream as her legs trembled, her wetness dripping unto Minho's hand and his cock. He followed shortly after, biting her neck hard and closing his eyes shut, while his release leaked from her cunt and got mixed with her own essence. Jisung came seconds later, gagging himself with his shirt to not be heard and even letting a single tear run down his cheek.

In the process, the vice grip of her legs softened and allowed Minho to move, which he didn't waste a second for as he wrapped his arms around her and switched positions again, this time with her underneath. He grabbed her wrists with one hand, the other still occupied with her reddened clit.

Jisung couldn't fucking believe it. Already? Didn't they have any refraction period or something? There was no way they recovered that fast!

But apparently they were. She hugged his hips with her legs, fixing her posture while pushing him closer to her, until their fronts were glued together. The realization that they never let Minho's dick separate from her pussy not even few inches made Jisung's head burn.

Worse? He could see the outline of the alpha's still hard cock in her fucking belly, as he rocked into her again.

She sleazed her right leg towards his shoulder and he rushed to held it in place. His other han gripped her hips viciously, leaving more fingerprints shaped bruises in her skin, but she didn't seem to notice. He slowed down his thrusts to shift his posture and the new angle brought another delicious mewl out of her.

-Fuck yeah, t-there it is. Am I-ah!-hitting it right, princess?

-Holy shit, yes! Rig-hnng-right there, Min. Keep going!

The bed started to move wildly with them, the wood creaking getting louder and louder, and the constant banging of the frame against the wall almost mutting their own noises. Jisung didn't dare to think what the neighbour might be thinking now. Maybe she was punching the door to complain and they didn't hear it.

Unfortunately, Jisung couldn't bring himself to give a single fuck about her comfortability or her poor, conservative ears at the moment.

He was already spent, still half-floating in his post-nut haze. His dick couldn't get hard again, not that quick at least, so he remained watching them, memorizing every single angle and sound they made together.

They stopped talking altogether, not even to argue. They fucked each other like they were fighting, trying to get the upper hand over the other, a race for dominance and authority that left nothing but chaos behind. Jisung loved the show, but he knew his Omega body wouldn't resist the agressive, blood-thirsty handling they had going on.

The female alpha's sharp nails got entangled on Minho's hair and pulled viciously, her other hand scratching his lower back, getting near his butt. Suddenly, she slapped them.

Minho gasped at the sting, slowing down his movements for a bit, only to let out a deep growl and squeeze her even harder against his body, not even a wheeze of air fitting between them. His fangs made contact with her shoulders and sunk them in, making her whine and fidget in his hold. His hands begin to play with her nipples, which Jisung just noticed had teeth mark around it (when did that happen??), twisting them and even mouthing them, letting his spit fall into the skin.

-I hate you so much -she panted.

-Yeah? You do? -he was just as breathless,

-You can't even imagine. -she bite his neck, sucking a big bruise in it, along with the many others she left.

-Aw, princess. -their lips brushed. -I hate you more.

Their lips collided with hunger, and Jisung's cock started to grow interested again. Tongues sucking on each other and joining the cacophony of wet sounds filling the bedroom.

Of course, she wouldn't be the alpha Jisung adored if she gave up without a fight. She sunk her nails right on Minho's buttcheeks, using them as leverage to seize his thrusts, and licked his ear. He panted, biting her nipples harder and breathing sharply through the nose. Then she pushed both of them, until they were both sitting with her on top of his lap. Her hands grasped his wrists, pressing them behind him as she took control over the situation again. He tried to argue, but his voice died quickly when her own fangs caught the skin of his neck again, right where his pulse was.

Her hips kept rutting against his, too fast for Jisung to even think, making Minho moan and sigh in delight.

-W-wait, Vivi, shit, slow d-down for fuck's sake! I'm...

His whole body freezed suddenly, his back going all rigid and his eyes closed shut. He buried his nose into her chest, breathing in deeply, as his hips began to shook violently and spurts of white started to drip down to the sheets. Again.

He panted heavily, blinking to focus again. But she didn't stop. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and let out a high-pitched moan.

-A little more, please, I-oh my god- I'm almost-

She screamed, her body trembling too as she cames, a gush of wetness soaking Minho's pelvis and the sheets underneath. He held her firmly against him, their foreheads pressed together. They had drops of sweat running down their skin, hair plastered on their faces, lips all wet and mistreated. Minho's hand traced imaginary lines on her waist, and she lazily counted the hickeys around his skin.

They looked like an erotic painting, one Jisung could have only imagined before today, and that he wanted to capture in his brain for the rest of his life.

They laid back on the bed, facing each other, and their sexes still connected because obviously.

Out of sudden, Vivi started to giggle.

-What now, brat? -Minho asked annoyed, his voice raspy with post-orgasm exhaustion. Curiously, his face didn't seem as bothered as he sounded.

-Nothing~ -he raised his eyebrows at her, and she relented. - Just remembering how you actually ended up ruining my clothes, so now you'll have to buy me everything new.

He scoffed.

-Please, I was joking. Like hell I'll spend my money on you. -he rubbed his eyes.- I don't owe you shit.

-Oh, screw you, Minho. -she attempted to move away, his cock slipping out of her, but he grabbed her quickly and groaned.

-What are you doing? Stay right the fuck here. -he said almost petulantly, hugging her by the waist and adjusting her posture so his softening (it better be softening) member didn't get out.

-Are we sure Jisung is the clingy one here? Jeez -she had a small smile that Minho couldn't see from his angle.

The room reeked of sex, sweat and intense alpha pheromones. In short, the kind of domestic smell Jisung would gladly get home to every single day for the rest of his life.

-Well, ignoring the few accidentally broken stuff, we didn't do so bad this time, right? -she said, playing with Minho's fingers mindlessly.

-Yeah, I think-

He was interrupted by a loud noise: The bed frame collapsing beneath them and the posts shattering completely.

Jisung felt his eye twitch, arousal slowly fading in favour of anger.

Silence reigned in the room for a moment.

-You better drop that fucking grin off before I slap it, Lee Minho.

-What? I am not!

-I literally feel your mouth in my neck, I know what you're doing!

-Just say you're obsessed with my mouth and be done with it.

She let out a loud, exasperated sigh, making him chuckle more. He kissed the back of her earlobe, the softest gesture Jisung saw of him directed to someone else. She leaned back into it, like it was normal.

-This is nice. -she whispered to herself, but both men heard.

-What do you mean? -he asked in the same tone, his lips tracing the back of her throat. She looked startled.

-Nothing, forget it.

-Princess...

She looked away, dropping his fingers to fidget with the sheets instead.

-This, what we're doing now, it feels nice. -she traced imaginary lines in the matress. -It feels like you don't hate me that much, and I like it.

Now the anger moves to let the heartbreak in. Jisung has the urge to run to her and smooch her face all over, anything to not hear that sad voice from her ever again.

He looks at Minho, and his heart clenches when he sees the same sadness in his eyes, focused on her.

-You idiot -he muttered, shaking his head. -You big, incredible idiot. -he caged her with his body and kissed the bite mark on her neck, one Jisung hadn't seen before.- Can you not see it?

-I'm yours already.

Taglist (my fellow minsung girlies): @skzms @2chopsticks2eyes @linlinaert @queenmea604 @hanjisunglover @hanjibug @hyunsvngs @minsungisvreal @k-krissten @roseykat @mal-lunar-28 @thightswideforhanin (please tell me if i forgot someone, i'm really bad at tagging)

[mktskii]

—Weirdest Homecoming of the Year

—Synopsis It’s homecoming season at U.A., and the chaos of midterms is behind you. Just when you think you can relax, Bakugou Katsuki, the explosive jerk who never seems to leave you alone, surprises you with a request that throws everything off balance. But his gruff demeanor hides a deeper longing that neither of you can fully grasp. As emotions collide and misunderstandings mount, can you both navigate the maze of feelings, and unspoken words to find something real amidst the chaos?

—Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB Support Course!Reader.

—Genre: Slow-burn romance, slice-of-life.

—Tags: Enemies-to-lovers, banter, RBF reader, not-so-grumpy x still grumpy, miscommunication, one-sided crush ENDS (YAY), support course expertise, Bakugo finally getting fine shytt (you), reader literally wants Bakugou so bad lol, reader wakes up from their denial and realizes they like Bakugou, hoco-inspiration lol.

—Notes: I genuinely wanted to end the series here but, no no no. Enjoy having to wait another long silencing week and gamble if this is gonna end or not. 😈 Also, reader finally not being mean??! Whattttt??

Bakugou Katsuki never did anything half-assed. When he wanted something, he’d go after it with every ounce of his being. So, why the hell was this so hard? You’d already picked Shinsou, and no amount of his griping, complaining, or subtle hint-dropping changed that. But he wasn’t one to give up. Especially not when he was finally beginning to understand why it bothered him so much.

As for you? The last few weeks had been weird.

The days leading up to the midterm review are quieter than expected. After the tense encounter in the Support Lab, Bakugou hadn’t bothered you, and you hadn’t exactly sought him out either. The only time you caught glimpses of him was in the cafeteria, or when he walked past the lab to “conveniently” drop off another piece of busted equipment that seemed to break way too frequently.

Bakugou, who normally stormed into your workspace like he owned the place, demanding fixes for things that definitely didn’t need fixing, had been… different. Quieter, maybe? Or more like, restrained. You weren’t sure how to put it, but you noticed. He wasn’t snapping at you as much, barely retaliated when you gave him a hard time. It was unsettling.

Today was no different. Bakugou had dropped by with his latest set: the infamous broken gauntlets—and not his phone for the 12 billionth time. You found yourself caught off guard by how calm he was as you worked, barely saying anything while you tinkered. The silence was so unlike him.

And then, just as you were about to hand his gauntlets back, you noticed his gaze lingering, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if holding back something. Red alarms blared in your head—Bakugou never just waited like this without yelling. Was he sick?

“Bakugou?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

He just grunted, crossing his arms tightly, his jaw clenching. You could almost see the gears grinding in his head, like he was forcing himself to keep quiet. It was unnerving.

“Spit it out already,” you pressed, annoyed at the tension building in the air.

For a moment, you thought he might explode—literally. But instead, Bakugou gave a sharp, frustrated exhale through his nose and pulled something out of his bookbag. You blinked, caught off guard by the sight of a massive, crumpled piece of paper. No—wait. It wasn’t just paper. It was… a poster?

You read the words, your heart rate picking up as Bakugou shoved it toward you, his cheeks tinted pink with frustration. The words “GO TO HOMECOMING WITH ME OR DIE” were messily scrawled in bold, angry letters, practically taking up the entire space. In a bright red marker, too. But that wasn’t the worst (best??) part.

The background had a collage of explosion clip art and..was that a small drawing of you and him with..SMILY FACES? It looked like a five-year-old had designed it.

“Bakugou… what the hell is this?” you muttered, completely baffled.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled, eyes darting away. “Tch. It's what it looks like, dumbass.”

For a second, you could only stare at the poster, completely dumbfounded. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or run for the hills. But the longer you stared, the harder it became to hold back a smile. This was… his way of asking you out?

Before you could form a response, Bakugou pulled out a small box of chocolates from inside his bookbag again, almost shoving it into your hands. The wrapper was pristine, the brand one you had mentioned liking once—one time—and he remembered. He wasn’t even looking at you now, staring at the wall like it might swallow him whole.

“So? You goin’ or not?” he asked, voice gruff. He sounded like he’d rather fight a villain than stand there waiting for your answer.

You blinked down at the chocolates, completely caught off guard by how personal the gesture felt. The aggressive, explosion-laden poster was definitely Bakugou, but this? He remembered the brand you liked. He remembered things about you. Wow.

“Bakugou… I…” You trailed off, your heart suddenly feeling a little too full. How long had he been paying attention to you like this?

He cut you off with a huff, clearly growing impatient. “Look, if you’re just gonna say no, then—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head with a small smile. “No, I wasn’t gonna say no. Yeah, I'll go with you.”

Bakugou froze, staring at you like you’d just short-circuited his brain. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”

You took a deep breath, trying not to laugh at how utterly Bakugou this whole situation was. “I said yes, Bakugou. I’ll go to homecoming with you.”

For a moment, you swore he forgot how to breathe. His eyes widened, and for once, the ever-brash Bakugou Katsuki looked completely out of his element.

“Yeah, well, of course you are,” he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “You’d be a damn idiot not to.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the tension finally breaking, leaving a strange warmth in its place. You hadn’t expected Bakugou’s confession to be so… awkward, but somehow, it worked. It was him—loud, explosive, but with surprising care hidden underneath. He simply nodded and turned to leave, but not before aggressively forcing you to take his number so he'd tell you more about when he'd pick you up.

As you packed up your tools for the day, something in your chest fluttered at the thought of going to homecoming with him, of seeing him in a completely different light.

Homecoming day. To say you were underwhelmed would be an understatement. The whole thing had disaster written all over it. In fact..

Homecoming night didn’t go as planned.

First, Bakugou showed up at your door 20 minutes late, looking like he had just gotten into a fight with a swarm of angry bees. His hair was more tousled than usual, and there was a scowl plastered on his face as if the idea of going to Homecoming was physically painful for him. He blamed his 'Old Hag' (which you learn is how he addresses his Mother. Yikes.) for making him try on 9 billion different suits and, yeah he was making excuses, but you decided to let him pass for this one time.

Second, he refused to say anything the entire walk to the venue, except for the occasional grunt when you tried to make small talk. It was like pulling teeth, trying to get him to open up, but you figured that was just Bakugou being Bakugou.

And third… well, let’s just say the actual event was a disaster.

He radiated 'Debbie downer' energy, basically insulted everyone, and said they all looked 'ass', and well..just about everything wasn't up to his standards. Did he expect to be attending a grand ball? With him, you genuinely would never know.

Oh, and the highlight of his complaints? How the music sucked. Every song that played was something Bakugou clearly hated, and he made sure you knew it.

“This crap again? Can’t they play somethin’ decent?”

"Ugh, another slow song? Gimme a break."

"Whoever picked this shit deserves to get punched in the face."

You were trying to hold back your laughter. “It's homecoming, not your personal concert.”

And of course, there was the awkwardness of people constantly staring. Bakugou had his own fan club, and seeing him with you sparked more than a few curious glances. But Bakugou didn’t care.

At one point, though, it got to be too much. You both ended up outside, sitting on the steps in the cool night air, away from the noise and the stares. You kicked off your uncomfortable heels, stretching your feet with a groan.

“Well, this sucks,” you muttered, looking over at him. “You’re right. Homecoming’s kind of lame.”

Bakugou huffed, leaning back on his elbows, his eyes focused on the night sky. “Told you. These things are pointless.”

"So then, why'd you ask me?" Bakugou clicked his tongue, turning his head slightly like he couldn’t believe you were asking something so obvious. “Who the hell else would I take?” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “Besides… you fix my stuff. Least I can do is take you out, right?”

You laughed softly, and for a moment, everything felt easy. Comfortable, even. Sitting there next to Bakugou, the frustration and awkwardness of the night began to melt away. He didn’t say anything, but the tension between you had shifted. It wasn’t bad. It was just…different.

Suddenly, Bakugou spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “Why didn’t you ask me to be your model?”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, turning to face him. “Huh?”

“For your midterm project,” he continued, not looking at you. “You picked that Shinsou guy. Why not me?”

You furrowed your brows, unsure why it mattered so much. “I didn’t think you’d want to. You’re…you know, busy.”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened at the bluntness. Bakugou turned his head, finally meeting your gaze, his red eyes sharp. “I would’ve done it. You didn’t even ask.”

"But I saw you turning everyone down."

"That's 'cause I don't like everyone."

You stared at him, speechless. For someone who usually had no problem speaking his mind, this was… different. Vulnerable, almost. Like he was actually bothered by the fact that you hadn’t chosen him. Also, wait. Does that mean he might like you? [yes, you IDIOT.]

“I didn’t know you’d care,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

Bakugou’s eyes flickered, and for the first time that night, his usual scowl softened just a little. “Of course I care, dumbass. I asked you and you just said 'Cool' and that fucking..sucked.”

There was a pause. Neither of you moved, the weight of his words hanging between you. And then, before you could stop yourself, you smiled.

“You coulda just asked like a normal person,” you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow. "You really are the worst."

He scoffed, the tension breaking. “Yeah, well, you’re not much better.”

Another beat of silence. But this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was something else. Something lighter.

“You wanna get out of here?” Bakugou asked suddenly, pushing himself to his feet.

You raised an eyebrow. “What, and miss the rest of this magical evening?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, offering you his hand to help you up. “Let’s go.”

You took his hand, warmth spreading through you as his grip tightened around yours. Maybe this wasn’t the perfect night, but for some reason, with Bakugou by your side, it didn’t feel like a disaster anymore. It felt like…something else. Something better.

As you walked away from the noise of the dance, his hand still holding yours, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad night after all.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

‧₊˚tags:

@fta1ask4 @caaaddddyyy @matchat3a @meeeepsworld @rosemarygalaxy

[ladyvialana]

Very much enjoyed the first season of The Dead Boy Detectives.

It was fun, with great characters, interesting storylines, good pacing, and a fantastic ability to balance light-hearted storytelling with some pretty fucked up content at times.

Episode 1 was a little clunky and exposition heavy, but it's only really in that first episode (unlike fucking Wednesday!) and it's pretty easy to look past once they get into the main story. The rest of the episodes are much smoother.

Character interactions are great and all of the characters feel rounded with an actual backstory that influences their interactions and distinct personalities and traits that affect their actions. They're not just plot devices or vehicles for narrative.

Before going into any more detail, I'll just say I really enjoyed it. It's probably not as sophisticated or polished writing or style-wise as The Sandman, but it's still a really good spin off. I'd almost put it in the same vein, tone-wise, as The Umbrella Academy, though perhaps not as irreverent. Much better than similar Netflix teen supernatural dramas like Wednesday or Sabrina (and probably more mature and sophisticated, storytelling-wise than those shows).

I really enjoyed it, am looking forward to/hoping for a second season, and will definitely be watching again.

*

More detailed spoilers under the cut for those interested in my opinions about a few specific storylines/characters/episodes:

*

SPOILERS:

I am honestly surprised we don't have more people hitting on Charles. He is genuinely charming and charismatic as well as kind of open and sincere. Like, Edwin's a standoffish Edwardian public school boy with weird interests and zero people skills. I adore him. But he has negative charisma, especially compared to Charles' eyeliner and grin. Like, why is everyone chasing after Edwin? It's a role reversal I can definitely get behind, but no one is trying to get up into Charles' personal space aside from Crystal? Really??? And even she probably wouldn't have gone for it if he hadn't made it obvious he was interested in her first. Like, I really do get what the writers were trying to go with here, but it's one of those choices that kind of stretch narrative believability a little.

In saying all of that, I'm kind of a sucker for queer pining arcs that could go either way. So the not-so-subtle reveal of Edwin's feelings was both beautiful and painful in the best ways.

Episode 7 was a highlight for me. I'd been waiting for the pay-off from Edwin's backstory and the hellfire sword hanging over his head. But the flashback to Charles' death was probably my favourite scene in the series. Everything about that episode was fantastic, from the tension to the individual mini character arcs in the episodes (Nico coming in clutch with her reading comprehension skills! Crystal finally kicking David's ass!), to the beautiful release of the confession in Hell. I loved all of the insight we got into all of the main characters, knowing the truth of the kind of people they are. Knowing that, yeah, these are all good people who would do anything to help, and who love fiercely. But also, that doing what you can for the people you love sometimes involves meat cleavers and Molotov cocktails.

[castlebyersafterdark]

dreaming of byler sexual-but-not-sexual touches, like laying on top of each other afterwards and mike stroking his hand up and down will's back and over the curve of his ass but super gentle and relaxing and will is just falling asleep with it almost

or will gently swiping over mike's nipples but so super soft and light, tiny caress from his tiny thumb

YES this is EVERYTHING. Casual intimacy ❤️ Mwah. The comfort and familiarity, feeling at home just near each other's bodies. They've finished, they're in the afterglow, but they can't stop touching. It's being close, it's feeling each other's heart beats. Will pressed up alongside Mike who's on his back, face pressed into Mike's neck, just breathing. Inhaling the scent of his sweat and he's not even kissing, just holding his mouth against a pulse point and feeling as it slows and races in turn. His leg is thrown over Mike's hip, clingy but so relaxed, no tension coiled in his limbs. His legs are actually kind of shaky, with the subtle aftershock making him twitch against Mike. And Mike's big hand brushes down his back as he curls around Will as well. Long fingers tracing right down the line of Will's spine, circling the dimples low on his back. Will's absently running his own hand over Mike's chest, first swirling around a scattered tuft of chest hair, then hazily distracted by the soft skin of a nipple.

He's blinking in and out of consciousness but his fingers are fixated on the way the skin feels changing from normal to almost velvet smooth as his thumb brushes over the nub and back again, just something to occupy idle fingers. Their feet overlap, toes twitching and rubbing together. Will taps his foot twice to Mike's, a quick little hello, and Mike musters the strength to tap back three times. Will hums and smiles into Mike's neck, then does actually kiss him on the corded line of muscle. Tongue darting out to chase a stray drop of sweat. He knows he's weird, but Mike just hums back at him, kisses his forehead, cups his warm hand around an ass cheek, a comforting place to rest. His fingers dip into the crease of him, feeling the trace of where Will's still slick and tacky from earlier, but they're both too sated and content and lazy to get up and grab a towel. Will doesn't mind. Likes the reminder, the proof. As Will's blunt nail runs over Mike's nipple as he brushes over it again, it sends a shiver down through the entire length of his body, but it's barely arousal. It's a quiet jolt that makes Mike's heart beat that much deeper.

His pulse is loud under Will's ear as he shifts against Mike's neck. Faces close. Unable to kiss from this angle but it doesn't matter. Will reaches his hand up instead. Traces Mike's mouth. He's memorized the shape of it so long ago he doesn't need to see to know exactly where his fingers are. Plush bottom lip. The perfect curve of the top. Mike nips at his finger and Will huffs out almost half a laugh against his cheek. He caves, turns fully to press a kiss to Mike's cheek. Mike turns, too, meets him lips against lips. It's a kiss and then it's a smile against a smile. Faces mashed together. Too close to see, blurry if eyes are opened. Will keeps his closed. Falls asleep like that, all squashed together as Mike holds him close and tries to squint to see Will clearly, counting freckles and moles through fuzzy vision as fluttering eyelashes brush his cheek through a dream.

[imfinereallyy]

“You hurt me.”

“I know.”

Steve sighs, and he looks at Eddie in his doorway. So much has changed in five years. But Eddie seems the same. Just his hair is a bit longer, he’s got more tattoos, and he’s got scruff on his face that Steve knows when they saw each other last in 87’ would have driven him nuts.

Steve has always liked the idea of Eddie with a beard. It doesn’t matter now, though. “I think you should leave.”

“Steve, I—I just need a chance to explain.” Eddie moves side to side on his feet.

“Explain?” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “You had the chance to explain five years ago before you left. You had the chance to explain the weeks after with no phone calls to me to any of the kids. You had the chance to explain the year after when you talked to everyone but me, and I thought you just needed time. You had the chance a year ago before you cut everyone else off again.”

Eddie hangs his head in shame. “Stevie, please. I know I don’t deserve it. But I just want to talk.”

Steve’s resistance wavers slightly. He moves out of the doorway to let Eddie in. Eddie rushes inside, knowing Steve will change his mind at any moment. Steve shuts the door behind them. “I’m only letting you in because if Robin finds you in our doorway, she will kick your ass. And as much as you hurt me, I don’t actually want to see you in physical pain.”

Eddie smiles a bit, “Still the dynamic duo? You and Robbie? What’s stopping her from beating me up inside?”

“Our cat Sylvia might see. And she’s trying to shield her from as much violence as possible. Says one Sylvia has seen enough.”

“Oh please tell me she is out by now, because that is a giant gay flashing sign.” Eddie chuckles.

Steve can’t help but laugh a little, “Yes, she is. It would be hard if she weren’t, considering she’s dating Nancy. And Nancy is a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. She shows her off any chance she gets.”

“Wow, Robs bagged Wheeler? Never saw that coming.” Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Must have been a blow to the ego for ya, Stevie. Your ex and your best friend.” He mock clutches his heart.

Steve lets out a big laugh this time, “Nah. I encouraged it. They’re my favorite people; they deserve to be happy.”

Eddie softens, “Yea, being a favorite person of Steve Harrington is a very special thing.”

Steve feels ice water in his veins, “What are you doing here Eddie?”

Eddie sighs, “What do you want to hear? Why I needed to come, or why I wanted to? Cause the truth is I needed to come to apologize to you. Give you the explanation you deserve. What I wanted, though, what I wanted is to tell you that I love—“

“Don’t.” Steve chokes.

“Right apologies first.”

“First? First?! Eddie. I don’t know what you could say to me right now that would make anything make sense. We had something good. It took us so long to get to that point. And it was great because we learned about each other and knew each other inside out. Our friendship blossomed into something more, and we were just getting started, and you left. I had thought I was done with love before I met you. But then you came along and made me feel seen and cared for, and then you got weird and distant so quickly, and you fucking left. And then I knew for sure I was done with love. Don’t think it was meant for me. Sure, that’s not on you, but you don’t get to—you don’t get to open old wounds because you feel the sudden desire to come around again.” Steve swallows tears.

Eddie’s face goes through hundreds of emotions. Anger. Shock. Grief. He doesn’t say anything for a minute. They stew in Steve’s words instead. Then finally, Eddie settles on. “I’m an addict.”

Steve, who has thought about a million ways this could go, has never thought of this. “What?” All the tension releases from his body. He just stares hopelessly at Eddie.

“I’m an addict. I'm sober now, I just reached a year, but yeah. I'm an addict. Never thought I would be. But after everything with Vecna and the painkillers they put me on…it got hard. Denied it for a while. Said to myself a little of everything here and there to forget wouldn’t hurt anyone. But then we were becoming something alongside, me spiraling deeper into addiction. And I—fuck this was easier to practice at the meetings.” Eddie runs his hands through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But I would have hurt you. More than me leaving did. And I couldn’t live with that. I could live with you hating me. It was selfish of me. I wasn’t ready to give up the drugs so I gave up you, and it’s not fair. Not fair that I did that to you, to anyone of you really, but especially you Steve. You just deserved someone who could love you all the time, love you fully. And I thought I did but I think I was using you a little to make myself feel better. That’s not to say I didn’t love you. I did, still do, always will. But we both deserved a better version than what we had.”

Steve feels tears on his cheeks, he isn’t sure what to say. “You didn’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Steve chokes on a sob, “Dammit Eddie. It was my birthday.”

Something breaks inside them, and suddenly they are in each other's arms, weeping together. There is this fragile broken thing between them, a love that never went away. It is horrible and beautiful and needs so much work to be wonderful once more.

But it was nice to break together again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I’ll make sure every day for the rest of my life that I make it up to you. In any way I can.”

“I don’t know how we can get back Eds. Don’t know if we should.”

“I’ll take you any way you’ll have me. Friend. Lover. A person you only call when you need a ride to the airport. Just let me try; it’s all I ask. I promised I wouldn’t go back to you until I knew I had put the work into myself first. You don’t owe me anything. I would understand if you kicked me out right now. But I need you to know that Steve, I love you anyway you’ll have me. And I have never stopped thinking about you.”

Steve lifted his head from Eddie’s chest. “I’d like to try to get to know you again. This you. See where it goes. But Eds, no matter what, no matter the version of you, I will always care. And I will always be your friend.”

Eddie kisses Steve’s forehead, “Thank you.”

It’s there where Steve and Eddie hug on the wooden apartment floor; they hear the door unlock. “Oh no, she’s home early.”

Eddie doesn’t get to respond because, suddenly, Robin is in the doorway. “Hey, dingus! I brought home an extra latte—“

She freezes at the sight of Eddie before rebooting with a dark look, “Steve, is your nail bat still under your bed?”

——

Wanted to try the whole break up thing, I have a lot of different break up/makeup ideas in my head. maybe pt. 2???? Kinda feels good to stop here. But if you think so I have more ideas for this.

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

Wait Jensen leaves edenbrook? 🤲 spare lore pls

(~night-triumphantt this is my main loll)

OMG OMG JENSEN LORE?? were going to be here for a while (these are literally my fav types of asks)

yes jensen does leave edenbrook (and unfortunately it is not cute and fun. but anyway.) like 2-3 years post book three (i havent decided exactly when)

so in my hc ethan is as bad, if not worse than he is in canon. hes always had issues w jensen, and jensen is not one to try and smooth it over. this post is a lot more detailed, but for a quick summary, ethan always had something of a thing for jensen, but didnt know how to act on it. like hes never been w men before in a romantic sense (just some weird fucked up competitive longing way. cough cough tobias) so he had a hard time coming to terms w that aspect of it. and on top of it jensen wanted NOTHING to do w his ass

jensen tells it like it is and ethan has always taken it very personally, which has put a lot of distance between them and sparked Many arguments. jensen has been upset w him for making his first and second year so much more difficult than it needed to be, and ethan has never apologized or acknowledged it. overall, they just frustrate each other and theres a lotttt of tension between them all the time. theyre both headstrong but in opposite ways (ethan likes to be right and outsmart people, jensen just wants shit to get done which makes him very direct) and its just never worked out, essentially

ethan also has a remarkable talent for hitting triggers jensen didnt even knew he had. theyve had their fair share of blow-up arguments because of ethans demeanor, abuse of power, and how they handle cases in general, and ethan just knows right where it hurts every time. jensen doesnt even like arguing, and usually he just shuts down the second they start raising voices, but he always tries his best to get his point across before then

anyway, now that you have the backstory, we can actually get to How jensen quits

at the end of book 3, jensen takes over the diagnostics team and ethan takes up an administrative position. in fandom, a lot of people keep ethan as the dt lead bc he would hate an administrative position. i know this and put him in the administrative position anyway bc its what he deserves. with that in mind, ethan takes pretty much any chance he can to stop in to check on the dt and the cases they have. hes a Terrible micromanager and doesnt like the changes jensen has made to it

jensen tries to take his advice/guidance in his first year leading it, but is ready to make changes/decisions by himself as time goes on. ethan is not ready to give up his spot, even if he already did in writing, and it just turns into a lot of unnecessary overseeing and trying to comment and help on cases after jensen already had them distributed and handled

ethan has always had a problem when it comes to questioning and not trusting jensens calls and judgement on diagnostics cases. while he was more subtle about snooping into some of the DT cases, theres one case he goes over jensens head with and changes a bunch of the calls he made just bc he didnt trust that jensen could "handle" it

jensen ends up finding out, obvi, when the patient he spent nights and days researching for is suddenly Not following the treatment plan he laid out. he talks to the rest of the dt about it and obvi nobody knows anything, so it doesnt take him long to figure out what happened

ethan comes to see them and it is Not pretty. jensen straight up asks why tf he touched the case, and jensen knew it was because he didn't trust him, but he wanted to hear him say it to confirm. they end up arguing back and forth, but, for once, jensen doesnt just sit quietly (theres more reason to this that will be detailed in the fic i eventually post ab it). when ethan yells at him, which usually keeps him quiet, jensen lays out every instance where ethan has ruined his time there. how hes selfish, priviledged, and doesnt stand for anything someone in medicine should care about. basically spells out every way hes incompetent and biased as a doctor and how actually he should just quit bc he was never cut out for it in the first place. and then jensen quits on the spot.

now, jensen had actually been looking into leaving before that. bryces residency was done, and bryce had been having a difficult time connecting w people bc when you push everyone out of the way to get to the top, surprise, they dont like you! also, jensens ambitious as fuck. hes wanted to start more accessible dt resources and teams across the country since he heard ab edenbrooks team

so while him quitting seemed very impulsive, he was already waiting on offers from a hospital in california and chicago (and trust, they were happy to have him)

the whole thing was a HUGE point of drama for the hospital. jensen is not known for blow up reactions. hes more known for lack of reactions to big things, if anything, so to have him quit like that was absolutely wild. also like. thats just an insane way to quit as it is

but in the end it led to a lot more scrutiny of ethan and how he behaves as a doctor. his behavior is highlighted in the book jensen eventually writes ab his experience w the medical field (not by name, but it doesnt take much to figure it out) which also ends up leaking a lot more shit ab ethan as the board further pushes into the specific incidents detailed in jensens book. basically jensen ruins ethans career which is so real of him

but yeah anyway. i didnt need to post a novel length explanation but here u go <3

[qprstobin]

Re:Steve being written as oblivious post: Steve would probs clock Eddies flirting, decide he wants to roll with it and be like 'yeah were taking it slow ig things have been so crazy for him lately it makes sense he's taking his time to make a move' while Eddie would go through 5 stages of grief every day with 'unrequited' pinning and Robbin would be freaking out she's being replaced as a bff bc Steve suddenly wants to spend time alone with Eddie & keeps talking how cool he is. Will would clock Eddie pinning but not Steve bc he never saw sb happy and confident with being queer. Dustin & the hellfire would see the tension but not know where it's coming from & Max & Erica would be the closest to cracking it but they're too cool to get involved & too busy helping El fit in back into Hawkins. Steve would only be oblivious to everyone being so anxious bc let's be real it's Hawkins they're always anxious so everyone is spiralling while Steve is having the happiest gayest time of his life

(opened my laptop to realize I never posted this I AM SO SORRY)

I'm gonna be frank and say I don't agree with all of this but also this made me giggle SO MUCH and I love it. I think that Steve would tell Robin that he is crushing on Eddie and thinks he has a chance, because they talk about everything and esp potential dates and Robin is torn between being happy and pretty sure that Eddie reciprocates but mainly just doesn't want Steve to get hurt because Eddie is pretty fucking weird and who knows how serious he is with all of his weird comments.

While I enjoy an Eddie who gets in over his head because he wasn't prepared for an object of flirtation to turn it back on him, I do also enjoy him just not thinking he has any chance and so is like, oh man these intricate straight jock rituals are intense, I hope this doesn't awaken anything in me I'm already ass over tea kettle about this man.

I totally agree with you about Will and Dustin and Hellfire sooo much. Will would definitely be like oh man I recognize that look of gay yearning but would think any vibes he was picking of from Steve were either wishful thinking or just Steve being Steve because Steve is honestly kind of weird too. Bc you're exactly right he probably would struggle with realizing that the weird vibes are Steve being if not completely comfortable, at least comfortable enough to go after a cute guy he's pretty sure is into him.

Dustin and Hellfire would have NO idea what it is they are picking up on dfgsiodj, especially Dustin. Hellfire it all depends on which members if any that Eddie is out to, and even then they would not likely be all that confident in Steve's intentions. Dustin most assuredly thinks that for some reason that Steve and Eddie don't like each other, or that something happened when they were all stuck in the Upside Down that they aren't talking about. I think if one or both of them came out to him, he would be able to put together the dots, but he definitely would not come to that conclusion on his own he is under the impression both of them are straight and have no reason to think otherwise.

I think you are most right about Steve not being oblivious to Eddie's affections, but he doesn't actually realize the chaos he is sewing by being impulsive with Eddie idrgjsirgjsr. There is too much going on for him to quite realize how weirdly his actions are being taken. Like I think he knows that he needs to be somewhat subtle because like he lives in rural Indiana in the 80s but that doesn't mean he isn't flagging as being up to something and really fucking weird. At least one person just thinks he has a new girlfriend that he won't introduce to them, but which isn't right but also is maybe closer than they realize? It's all just, so many shenanigans. Steve has never actually learned to be normal in his life

[astrxlfinale]

"oh, it's you . . . " dark brows furrow for a split second, yet her face remains devoid of emotions; there's a subtle shift within her posture as her hand reaches for her sheathed blade. the scabbard moves barely an inch before realization dawns upon the emanator's features & the ghost of a smile reaches her lips. "caelus. we've met before." a simple affirmation, perhaps more for her own ears than his. "i've wondered about you since everything that has happened . . . though, i did not anticipate to run into you again so soon." words that were woven into warm melancholy reach him as she cants her head to the side. "i had just been on my way to experience penacony . . . one last time." for a drink; for a dance; it would not matter if she forgot again. "do you want to join me?" (from acheron :>)

Whereas she remained a blank canvas, the welcomed familiarity that lead could lead to an encounter of companionship is paused. Caelus always found himself unnerved at these moments. Was it him she was truly talking about? For if there's one matter he's learned about the heart, the surface and the depths are never in close relation in terms of what and how they truly view the world.

Only in what they are.

Their amiable atmosphere finds itself suffocated as his own body lurched forth. For he knows the meaning of when that blade's metallic edges kiss the open air. His own posture hadn't been different in the least. Hints of a dark bat nearly lashed free from it's hub of scintillating light, hints of howling cerulean and wild arches of destruction glow surrounding the armament in preparation to lash it free. Despite the tension that nearly drew a crater upon this onset of dreamy earth, emotion is rich within his tensed face, a certain resolve that's been tempered and steeled after getting thrust into the chasm of Order.

"...Tch! And it took the close quarters possibility of heads flying in order to get that!?" There was some morbid amusement within his tone despite those biting words. If there was one consolation about all of this, tasting the blade of Nihility for his experience had certainly heightened that combat readiness. Being led from a Great dream through that all consuming void could motivate anyeone to get their ass in high gear.

His intention was never to recklessly engage the Emanator. After willing his hand to finally let go of that bat set between dimensions, his fingers clutched and arched while a winded sigh/groan of relief spilled from him. "Good to know you're still not roamin' 'those' kinda dreams yourself. Still looking fearsome as always." Whether she'd find that a compliment is anyone's guess. This Trailblazer couldn't resist letting that measure of blunt honesty do the talking.

So he listens as her novel candidness was written like her heart upon the sleeve. A wish carried, thoughts that managed to breach that monochrome surface for a time, reflecting thoughts where even he held a measure of influence. Something about that fact causes him to perk up with a lopsided smile, sharp and forthright like any good challenger against fate. "With some eyes finally closed, maybe we can actually have something more us." Authentic is what he means. That very authenticity born from having a time bereft of their chosen duties.

She'll still be that same oddball who got lost at his room once upon a time, even if those sharpened battle instincts virtually guided her there.

....

Caelus can't help but think that having a mind drenched in the Nihility is rough. In another weird way, part of him ponders if it could be very relaxing too.

The following step made towards Acheron is charged with that desire to also make good in having appropriate memories settled within Penacony. While the concept of her 'final' steps upon this land idle in his mind, it's mentally pushed aside in lieu of wanting to give her a good memory to get a laugh from. He soon situates by her side, winding up his arm while having a hand pressed upon the shoulder.

""Let's go make it one of a kind As it stands, we've had enough of goin' through a 'Choose your own Adventure' type-a movie anyways. Maybe I'll finally see that party animal you've been hiding deep down." Beyond those words was the true way he decides to communicate, allowing for those emotions to hold a palpable shine for that muted realm.

That monotony failed to hide that she had a couple of funny bones.

@metrictita

[highladyluck]

My Major Mat, Tuon, and Mat/Tuon Meta

Part 2 of my Reference Posts series! These are arranged in largely chronological order since they build on each other. If you only read one, I'd recommend "Human Evil In Wheel of Time".

Major Mat, Tuon, Mat/Tuon Meta

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/629098669264814080/some-thoughts-on-the-taveren-and-trauma-mats Ta'veren Trauma post

https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497875/chapters/72804909 Ta'veren Roleswap AU Summary/Perrin's Cursed Shadar Logoth Axe/Gun!Perrin and Coyote Cauthon

https://www.tumblr.com/stayoutofitnick/634359840433684480/highladyluck-wot-tidbits-highladyluck-here Tuon character analysis

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/643427378862981120/mat-gets-a-lot-of-knives-in-book-4-because-he-is Mat's 10+ knives are rebound knives compensating for the loss of Knife Wife I

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/634896236548341760/i-feel-like-anyone-reading-this-blog-on-the Explaining the subtext of Mat and Tuon's last canonical interaction

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/640235432600387584/mattuon-meta-will-hewont-he-stage-a-military Will He/Won't He (Stage A Military Coup); why Tuon thinks Mat absolutely won't and I think he might someday

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/643527442064146432/mats-types-or-on-tricksters Mat's Types, or On Tricksters ("You may not like it, but this is what peak narrative compatibility looks like.")

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/644495119499886592/blasphemous-thoughts-on-the-outrigger-novels Why I'm ambivalent about not getting the outriggers + the 'Keep Tuon Offputting And Weird Forever' Agenda

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/644553168628416512/stealing-is-the-way-to-mat-cauthons-heart Stealing is the way to Mat's heart; also my theory of exactly why Mat has such a strong aversion to channeling (Tuon is Mat's Replacement Shadar Logoth Dagger part 1)

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/645601799069384704/magic-dagger-curse-is-my-middle-name-human "Magic Dagger Curse Is My Middle Name" & Human Evil in Wheel of Time (Tuon is Mat's Replacement Shadar Logoth Dagger part 2)

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/735752387185295360/highladyluck-it-just-hit-me-that-tuons Mat/Tuon Romantic overtures: “that’s very sweet, but I must categorically refuse”

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/647139128809488384/mats-just-as-superstitious-as-tuon Mat's just as superstitious as Tuon (part 1 of 2)

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/647208351014551552/same-pattern-different-interpretations-and Same Pattern, different interpretations and focuses (part 2 of 2)

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/651160886000664576/confession-time-though-i-actually-just-straight-up Subtle ways Tuon has changed & why I find the many remaining unresolved tensions compelling

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/667653323063787520/mat-and-tuon-external-influence-and-internal Mat and Tuon: External Influence and Internal Continuity ('Mat solves his problems by escalating them', 'Tuon's metastasized sense of responsibility')

https://highladyluck.tumblr.com/post/724773351705460736/ive-written-about-this-before-but-mats Predicting Mat and Tuon's character growth (TL;DR: Tuon will accidentally teach Mat how to military coup her and then she'll experience consequences and therapy in that order)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30798101 Fic: To Be A Silk Flower (Like I'm Never Gonna Die); relevant meta is the idea that Tuon's reaction to getting her ass handed to her by Egwene in AMOL was "This better not awaken anything in me". It's also a fix-it fic for a Sanderson!Matism & a proof of concept for 'what would it take to get Mat to talk about the dagger?'

[tfw-no-tennis]

onepiece liveblogs 811-812

yea babeyyyyy

811!!

wow caesar just completely unable to read the room huh. not even charming like when luffy does it 🙄

get his ass chopper

sanji looks so chill w his sunglasses on lol he looks like he's about to go cruising around in a convertible

luv the strawhats fucking up enemies

so all the women in one piece are drawn w/yuri legs but honestly brook and sanji have it a bit too lol

also obligatory - I haaate how the women look in modern one piece style, I miss the style from the beginning of the show sooo much, everyone was so cute ughhghhgh

the men too honestly why is everyone all roided out. why are the necks Like That

n e wayz

nah sanji don't listen to caesar of all people re: the minks

nami and wanda gay meetcute fighting <3

like liiiiterally nami pinning and straddling wanda????? nami my beloved lesbian

OOOOBHHHH chopper taking charge and triaging oooooobbhh I loooove when he does medical stuff awbhh

^biased bc I'm currently in medicine school

NAAMI ILY NAMI

chopper forcing caesar to help...yes get his ass chopper<3

omg nekomamushia Large. like I knew that but seeing sanjji climb on him puts it in perspective lol

all the straw hats helping w the medical stuff <333

nami wanda mistaken enemies to lovers speedrun

I luv franky did u know

chopper pulling day AND night shifts he's such a dedicated Dr aww

luffy's like fuck yes I wanna meet the giant cat guy

loving the subtle full moon foreshadowing w/the minks

brook should do some musical exposition

THE DRAMA I LOVE IT YUMMMMMMMM

omg pekoms I was wondering when he'd appear

this is so tense and it's taking so long to find out where sanji went I can't even imagine reading this live lol

812!

awwww nojiko and genzo!!!! <333

so many people in this arc wearing sunglasses lol

sanji becomes a furry then gets kidnapped: the arc

nami seeing sanji being annoying like :|

Kill Him Nami

yea I don't wanna see momo's human form either bc of that haircut 😅 ik it's traditional but uh. oof

caesar's evil thought bubbles of 'why must I be forced to do non-evil things' lmfaoooo

'the animal kingdom pirates'? that aint is chief lol

also me reading that as animal cracker pirates lmfao

HHHHHHHHHHHH THE DRAMATIC TENSION (for me, upon reread, seeing caesar freak out bc he thinks the big mom pirates are here for him, BUT THEY'RE REALLY HERE FOR SANJI...ok and caesar but ALSO SANJI)

'when did we become bros' ok get his ass sanji.

wowww caesar fucked over big mom. Good Going Moron lol

I do love when sanji gets to be like. strategic. that's one of my favorite aspects of his character, and it separates him nicely from zoro & luffy, the other main fighters - I especially love early on in the story when sanji will go full sneaky and run off to ruin the enemies plans before anyone realizes what's happening

so yea I love him being in charge here

him glaring down at bege...does sanji have any idea that bege is here for him??? I don't remember but hhhhhh juicy

brook is like. comically tall and skinny lol

HAHAHAHA the panel of pekoms hugging sanji is FANTASTIC lol

damnnnnn I forgot that pekoms was willing to let sanji go and take the fall w/big mom...

PEKOMS OH NO does he actually die I don't remember. doubt it

ok bege's power is like. SO weird and One Piece™ and also cool??? like wtf. his nickname is 'gang' and like. yeah. he is a whole gang bc he's a castle with a bunch of shrunken dudes in him lol

Bag Of Holding Ass Powers..

ngl i fucking LOVE in one piece when a character is like 'I have the ____-____ fruit. I'm a ____man' like idk why but that tickles me lol

like bege saying 'I have the castle-castle fruit. I'm a castle man' fantastic 10/10

omg I forgot abt bege's guy who looks like a cross between chrollo hxh and ryuk deathnote and is also named vito (godfather reference that I now understand after watching it lol)

like mannnnn it's so weird that they all go inside bege lmao but also it makes sense. bc its one piece

I feel like sanji must know something is up, with everyone else chained up on the floor and he's at the table talking to bege - though it could be that sanji's the one in charge, but stiiiiill...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THERE IT IS THERE IT IS THERE IT ISSSSSSSSSSSSS

SOOOOOOO FUCKING HYPE legit probably my favorite cliffhanger in all of one piece MANNNNNNNNN

like. listen. AUGHHHHH so much. the 'chapter 800+ secret family reveal' WOULD NOT WORK in like 99.9% of stories but it flows PERFECTLY in one piece bc there is such a precedent for this sort of thing!! for the sort of behavior where you never ever talk about your 'real' (biological) family or where you came from bc IT DOESN'T MATTER THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT!!! OF ONE PIECE!!!!! that the characters get to CHOOSE where they belong and who their family is

(also this reveal happening so late makes the sabo reveal - the 'chapter 500+ secret amnesiac brother reveal' - seem practically early lol)

and like, obviously this theme of choosing your family is handled a lot - like everything with ace, who does exactly this ^ and yet is still burdened by his blood

but ok what I'm getting at is that in basically any other story, a reveal about one of the main characters coming this late would be suuuuuch a stupid asspull, but in this case, it's one of the best writing decisions in the story in ages

like half the straw hats have mysterious/unknown biological origins - nami, zoro (outside of SBSs), franky, sanji (before now), brook (ig lol)...even luffy's mom and robin's dad and stuff are never mentioned. and none of this is ever really remarked upon - they DO have family, even if it isn't by blood

so the story sets this standard that the found family is The family and it doesn't matter where the characters came from. and this is the 'right' way of going about things, that the straw hats and other 'good guys' support

however, not everyone in the story agrees with this. which is huuuuge and so so juicy. like, ace gets to choose his brothers and his pirate dad/family, but the world govt will NOT forget or ignore his biological parentage, and they kill him for that. GODDDD it's so goooood

so you get the POV charaters (straw hats) who believe that where you came from biologically doesn't matter, and a lot of the antagonist characters who think it DOES matter.

so this creates the perfect atmosphere for us to never hear about the vinsmokes, bc we're seeing things via the straw hats, and sanji would never want or need to mention them, ever

the antagonists, though...different story. so that allows the perfect time for a reveal here!!!!

and HHHHH there are some EXCELLENT little tidbits earlier in the story - obviously sanji mentioning he's from north blue, and even his name w/the 'three'...it's stuff that's so small that it can easily be brushed aside if it doesn't amount to anything, but since it did we can look back and be like oh shiiiit

even him calling himself mr prince!!! like...he technically IS a prince by blood!!!

and like, ik a lot of people thought he'd be a celestial dragon, but I think it's better this way, bc if he DID have knowledge of the celestial dragons, even from when he was a kid, that would be useful in a way that would make it look bad if he witheld the knowledge previously, whereas the vinsmokes existing and sanji knowing about them doesn't really help anything...anyways, rambling.

so I love the last panel here, with sanji just looking completely shocked and horrified. because it isn't like he's really been hiding his past on purpose - he thought it didn't matter where he was originally from, because with the straw hats, it DIDN'T!!

but I feel like he had to have thought about it at least sometimes - what would happen if the vinsmokes came looking for him for whatever reason

but at the same time, we find out later that they basically kicked him out and told him to never come back, so he probably thought he'd never have to deal with them again (though I feel like he had to have wondered if he'd ever run into them in his travels...)

aaaanyways okay this is getting long and this is literally just the beginning of my long meta rants I'm sure. more to come soon!