#simple italian perv

[monstersinthecosmos]

one of Armand's obsessions was food ASMR in the sense of like, sitting in Daniel's lap and putting his ear against Daniel's cheek and making him eat different foods with different textures to hear how it sounds. Crunchy stuff is always a hit!!! But even mushy stuff, he can hear it in a way that humans can't hear it. He can hear all the parts in Daniel's mouth and all the gushy saliva noises and things.

Of course eventually they make it Weird, like, I'm sure handjobs ensued during ASMR time. I'm also sure sometimes Armand wanted to be the one to chew the food, but he can't eat it, so he'd have to spit it into Daniel's mouth like a baby bird. 🐣

[cocopuffsstillinside]

Messed up, Chapter 2.

Mortal AU. Set just after the di angelo siblings moved to the US.

Nico has an amusing heart to heart with Bianca. They use some Italian, translations at the end.

Full fic available on Ao3.

Polpetta e Stellina

          In the coming weeks Winters had hung back a bit when it came to Nico, but the rumours has started swirling. He would occasionally get sideways glances as he walked down he halls and he would hear hushed whispers as he passed.

         Percy had kept his promise and most days after school they had arranged to meet up in Percy's dorm. Westover was partial boarding, so students and parents had a choice whether to live on campus or to commute. Nico lived a 30 minute drive away just inside the city limits of Maine, so it was easy for him to travel. Percy however, his home was in Manhattan, so he stayed on site.

         Those afternoons with Percy, were actually very entertaining. Percy tought Nico how to throw a punch and how to block. He pretty much had the basics down, now it was more just about practice.

         One evening after dinner, Bianca had come to his room saying she need help with her math homework. She was hopeless at math and Nico was already working at a level that most adults struggled with.

         As they sat at his desk, he talked her through a few points that she had misunderstood. He thought that that was that and she be off but instead she sat staring at him clearly wanting to say something, but not quite sure how.

          Eventually she went for the ‘just spit it out’ approach. “Nico, are you gay?”

          The question shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did, it had been circling the school for weeks now. Honestly, he should have been more surprised that she hadn’t asked sooner. Maybe he should have set the record straight (if you can call it that considering the situation) with her from the start.

          The problem was the more time he spent with Percy, the less he could convince himself he wasn’t. He still wasn’t sure... or maybe he was and just in denial, but either way how could he tell her what he was or wasn’t if he didn’t know himself.

           After realising he hesitated a fraction to long for it to be considered ‘just basic shock’, he questioned back “Why would you say that?” with a bit to much of a defensive tone for it to be natural.

          “Fratellino, you know there is a rumour going round. I just want to hear the truth from you.” She almost sounded hurt, why hadn’t he told her? What would he tell her... “It’s just”

         He cut her off, “No. I'm not gay.” Liar. “No. I don’t perv on half naked guys in the locker room.” Again, liar. “No. I don't have a crush on Percy.” Shit. That’s not part of the rumour! You absolute moron! Shit.Shit.Shit. Now she's gonna know! He mentally scolded himself.

          Bianca quizzically stared at him. “I haven't heard that part of the rumour?” she questioned.

          Maybe I can play this off... “It's one I heard a girl say earlier today.” He replied a bit to quickly.

          “Nico... I... I believe you.” She said unconvincingly. “If you say you're not, then you're not.” Nico discretely let go of a breath he hadn’t know he was holding. He wasn’t convinced she believed him but maybe there was a chance she’d let it go.

          “But I want you to know that if you were gay or anything, it's okay. I'll support you, you know I'm always in your corner Polpetta.” She said with a wink and a smirk.

          Why did she have to call him that! His eyes started swelling up and it was clear he was about to burst into tears. She leaned in and hugged him tight, and the dam broke inside him. Everything he had been holding in came rushing out. How had such a simple word and an embrace tipped him over the edge?

          “I've asked you not to call me that...” Nico sobbed into his sisters shoulder.

          Bianca pulled back but Nico kept his head down. She placed her hand under his chin and lifted his face, wiped his tears. “I miss her too.” She sniffled as her own eyes began to fill with tears. “but by using those silly names,” she said with a sharp intake of breath “HER silly names.... in some ridiculous way it feels like she’s still here. Think of it like her hugs, remember how it felt when she would pick us up after we fell or wrap us in a blanket and sing when we had nightmares. That's how I feel when I call you those silly names.”

         “You never told me that... is that... is that what you want? Is that how you've been doing this?” he shook his head while wiping away the fresh tears from his sisters words.

          “Yeah, I think it would be a nice way to remember her, don't you?”

          “ok...” he said in a small voice “...stellina.” and with that they were both a blubbering mess.

          The pair sat there for what felt like forever. Nico finally broke the sobbing silence. “What if... what if I am?” he shifted out of her embrace and stared down at his hands.

          Silence, it was deafening. What if she didn't mean what she said about it being ‘okay', or what if she meant something different. The thoughts were killing him, he couldn't take it. He carefully looked up at her. Bianca just stared at him baffled with blood shot eyes and a trail of tears running down her blotchy face.

          “What if you're what?” Was she just playing dumb or had she somehow completely forgotten the conversation that got them here.

          Nico frowned and mumbled “forget it...”

          Bianca’s jaw went slack and blurted “OH.” In a rather blunt tone. She quickly shook her head and chuckled “I told you it was fine, didn't I?” Nico shrugged. “Wait... so are the rumours true?” Nico shot her a glare. “Sorry, I take it at least some of it's true but not all?”

          Nico went back to staring at his hands. “I don't know, maybe?” he said in the quietest voice he had ever made, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Bianca hadn't heard him.

          “Ooookay.... can you tell me what parts are true? The gay thing is all good but the perving on guys in the locker room... wweeeelllll, that’s a bit iffy. I mean you do have a laptop and internet access, surely that would be better?” she grinned at him trying not to snigger as her little brother turned the colour of a beetroot.

           “BIANCA! Don't be gross!” he snapped back.

           “Well, it’s true! Isn't it?” she laughed as she shoved his shoulder. Her laugh was rather infectious, soon they were both belly laughing.

            Eventually, they calmed down enough for her to ask between giggles “seriously though... gay? Maybe?” Nico twisted his mouth a little and nodded. “okay... locker room perv? No?” Nico glared at her. “I'm gonna take that as a definite NO! So that leaves the crush thing? For that... well, if that is true... can't say I blame you, he is very cute.” Nico just stared intensely at his hands and started picking at the skin around his nails. “hmmm... well if the answer to that is yes, then doesn't that answer the first question?”

          “I.... I don't know, maybe?” he muttered under his breath. He had definitely noticed his feelings towards Percy growing since his birthday and the incident with Winters, but it wasn’t romantic, well not entirely. “Does that even matter? I mean one, I'm pretty sure he’s straight. Two even if he wasn’t, there’s a nearly 3 year age gap. Three, I'm Eleven. How many gay Eleven year olds do you know that have boyfriends?!”

           “Hey, I said your crush on him was justified. I never said it was logical... that is definitely a ‘guarda, ma no toccaree’ situation” she retorted.

           “Great..” he replied in a drawn out melancholic tone.

           “Actually can I ask... well, how did this rumour start?” she winced as if she expected Nico to lash out. Instead, he twisted his mouth and returned to picking at his cuticles.

          Should he tell her the full story? She’s gonna be pissed. He decided he’d already done the worst of it so he might as well get it over with. When he was finished explaining the events of his birthday and how Winters had been towards him since they had started at Westover, she looked furious. “You're telling me he made that up on a whim and just so happened to hit the nail on the head!”

          “Pretty much.” He sniggered beside himself “Ironic, huh?”  

          She knotted her eyebrows. “How long exactly have you been..” she tilting her head to the side clearly trying to think of the right word.

          “How long have I thought I might be into guys?” he suggested, Bianca nodded. “Honestly, probably years but I never really thought about it until recently. I’ve never really been interested in girls the way most guys are, but then again I didn't exactly have many friends back home to compare to. Not that I could say anything if I did.” He gave a sad kind of chuckle. “But, consciously thinking about it... probably since we started Westover. Before then however... well, there was definitely.... blips? Where the thought crossed my mind but I didn't really understand it, so I just ignored it really.” Bianca looked astonished. “What?”

          “There’s suddenly a lot of things making sense.” She giggled as Nico's face twisted in confusion.

          “huh? Like what?” he asked incredulously.

          “So, you remember that card game you had? The one about the Greek gods?” she smiled at him, Nico just nodded in reply.  “well... once you told me the Aries card was ‘pretty’. I thought you meant the pattern on it or something! But were you referring to the guy himself, weren't you?” she teased with a knowing grin.

           Nico vaguely remembered that moment. It felt like a life time ago, he now supposed it was. He nodded again. Bianca let out a giggle. All Nico could do was smile at her. She's actually okay with this. He thought to himself. Maybe, just maybe this won’t be so bad after all. If she can accept it, maybe I can to. Maybe...

          Just then there was a knock at the door. Nico rose to answer it to find an older lady his father employed to take care of the day to day running of the house and the family.

          She gently informed them that it was getting late and it was time to shower, bid their father goodnight and get some sleep. Bianca had a busy day tomorrow after all.

          Both he and Bianca nodded. He was slightly sad this evening over. He had always been close with his sister, but he honestly had never felt closer to her. Their Mama would say ‘lui è la sua piccola ombra’. The thought made him smile, Bianca was right. Using his Mama's words did kinda feel like her hugs, like she was still here.

..............

Translations:

Fratellino - Little brother

Polpetta - Meatball, yes his mama would affectionately call him her meatball XD

Stellina - Little star

guarda, ma no toccaree - Look, but don't Touch

lui è la sua piccola ombra - He is her little shadow

[lavenderbones22]

Body Love-A Damiano David One Shot

Summary: Damiano's girlfriend cops a lot of negative attention from the groupies at a Maneskin gig one particular night for not being stick thin. Damiano finds out and makes a point of letting everyone know that he loves his voluptuous vixen.

Word Count: 2795

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, suggestions of drug use, language, just pure smut so be warned ;)

Please remember this is all fiction and an interpretation from my mind. 

REQUESTS: OPEN

----------

Why the fuck did I decide to come tonight?

My mind was crawling with negative thoughts as I wound my way through the crowded venue, dodging drunk pervs and high groupies with every step. I loved my boyfriend, God knows that I did, but I always found it extremely difficult to support him with his music because of the crowds the band drew.

"But you knew this was his life when you met him!" My best friend would always say to which I would always shrug, unsure how to respond, and roll my eyes when she wasn't looking. Yeah, of course I knew this was his life but I never expected in a million years that Damiano would want to be with a girl like me.

I met my boyfriend of six months about a year ago when my previously mentioned best friend Harriet dragged me to a Maneskin show when we were in London. She had been going on about this hot new up and coming Italian rock band that we just HAD to go see before they became too big to play such small shows.

Not really my scene but wanting to step out of my comfort zone for once, I decided to go and well, things have never been the same since.

I bumped into Damiano and Vic after the show when they walked into the same cafe we were getting midnight pancakes and milkshakes at. I still never forget the way his eyes glazed over me making my heart skip a thousand beats just by one simple look. I had seen him on stage, obviously, and knew he was hot, although I never really gave it much more thought than that. But the look on his face, the way his black clothes hung from his slender yet toned body and fuck, the sharpness of that goddamn jawline made me want to crawl into a black hole and never come out because I knew that I could never have him.

But the weirdest thing happened. I did get to have him. He wanted me and he worshipped me and quite honestly, I didn't know how to handle the whole thing. I was so fucking stunned that he chose me over all of those thousands of girls that threw themselves at him night after night.

Me.

I wasn't as thin as these girls, or as blonde. I didn't have a waif like silhouette and I didn't rely on drugs to keep it that way. I had a big ass, size double d (real) breasts and hips that made me hate myself most of the time but I knew they would come in handy when I had kids.

I wasn't overly thrilled with what I saw in the mirror each day.

And it sucked.

But Damiano loved me and I loved him in so many ways.

"Sorry, excuse me," I continued to push my way through the crowd, my hand gripped tight to Harriet's.

"I don't understand why you don't just stand side stage," Harriet yelled in my ear as we found a reasonable spot in the crowd.

"I want to experience it just like everyone else" I replied back to her, "side stage just doesn't do it for me."

I didn't hear what Harriet proceeded to shout into my ear because all I could hear were the girls behind me talking shit.

"Is that Damiano's girlfriend?" One said in a malicious tone.

"Look how big her fuckin' ass is!" The other laughed.

I was frozen. I wanted to die. Everything around me meant nothing right now, all I could hear was the horrible things these girls were saying about me.

"She'd squash him...poor Damiano!"

I could feel the hot tears brimming at the corner of my eyes and I didn't care that they were about to ruin the winged eyeliner I'd spent half an hour on.

The show started and I couldn't even look at Damiano; I felt so shit about myself. Obviously I couldn't hear the girls behind me anymore but their words were hanging round my head like a bad smell. Harriet was jumping up and down beside me, arms flailing about above her, completely unaware of the inner turmoil I was currently experiencing.

"Girl, c'mon, get into it! That's your man!!" She shouted, eyes lit up brightly. She grabbed my hand pulling it up into the air with her but I just couldn't fake it right now when all I wanted to do was run away.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Harriet's concerned eyes stared right into mine when she had stopped jumping. She was having such a good time I felt bad ruining it.

"N-nothing, it's alright...just feel a bit sick," I lied, wiping under my eyes and faking a smile.

"You sure?" She cocked an eyebrow at me sceptically.

"Yep!"

"Oookay," she eyed me not believing a word I was saying but knowing me as well as she did, she decided against pushing the subject any further which I was incredibly thankful for.

I decided to push those soul-cutting words to the back of my head and enjoy my night, jealous bitches behind me or not. Besides, I was the one who got to go home with Damiano, have sex with Damiano and have him hold me all night, not them.

The rest of the gig went incredibly and my mood was lifted to the sky just by the sight of my sexy man head banging and moving his body about on the stage like he did. I swear that I nearly came in my jeans every time I saw him up there.

The absence of the heavy rock music once they had finished and walked off stage lingered in the air eerily but it was quickly replaced by the excited and drunken yelps and squeals from both men and women around the venue.

My long dark hair was probably looking a sight and my tits were just about falling out of the top of my tank and although I was down in the depths of hell earlier on, I was feeling on top of the world right now.

"Alright?" Harriet asked me, taking deep breaths and searching for her asthma puffer in her bag. She always got so puffed out after a Maneskin gig but that just goes to show the intensity of being in the pit for one.

While I waited for Harriet to get herself sorted, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of the two girls that were stood behind me. I took a mental picture of them both. Bitches.

"Yeah, I'm good," I chuckled. "But are you?"

Between puffs, Harriet managed to stick her tongue out at me, then pull me along to the side of the stage where the backstage door was. She was good at multitasking, my friend Harriet. She was the best friend a girl like me could ever have and although she was taller, thinner and had striking blonde hair, she never made me feel like she thought that she was better than me. We were like chalk and cheese; but the best kind.

The air at a Maneskin gig was always very hazy and I found it hard to keep my eyes open by the end of the night, and right now as we were trying to cross the room. I was going to get the worst crows feet when I was older from all of the squinting I had to do whilst making my way around the damned place.

"Ladies!" A nod of his head and a step to the side, the usual balding security guard, Marco, who went with the band around Europe let us both in the backstage door. I smiled and thanked him, before asking how his kids were doing.

I never much cared for the girls that hung around a Maneskin gig; in case that wasn't already clear. It grinded my nerves to see them hanging off of Thomas and Ethan, Vic too, and you can imagine what it did to me when I saw them trying it on with Dami.

I was always pissed but never surprised when that exact sight greeted me after a show. One, two or three girls hanging off his arms, rubbing their disgusting bodies against him while Damiano was trying desperately not to pay them any attention but sort of failing. I never got angry at him after the first time this happened, understanding that this unfortunately came with the territory.

When he saw me walk into the room, his face fell a little in sadness but it was also mixed with the happiness I knew he felt when he saw me.

Once again, pinch me because I must be dreaming.

He quite literally pushed the girls off of him and with those long legs of his, sauntered over to me.

"Mia amore," he cooed, one arm around my waist and his lips against mine. "You good?"

"Yeah," I smiled weakly. "Great show, as usual," I patted my hand on his chest and stepped back from him a little. I was feeling self conscious in front of those groupies wishing death upon me from across the room. It was honestly my life these days, receiving death glares from groupies that is. Lucky Dami was worth it.

"Thanks," he replied half heartedly. "Hey..." he grabbed my chin with his calloused fingers and forced me to look up at him. "I heard about what those sluts were saying in the crowd."

My heart sank. I just wanted to forget about it, I wasn't planning on telling him. "Baby, they're fucking jealous whores...don't listen to a goddamn word they say! Stupide puttane!"

He often rambled off in Italian at the end of his sentences. I had no idea what he was saying half the time (country born English girl over here), but I would pick out random words he would often say like 'fanculo'.

"How can I not Damiano?" I wanted to cry again. "They make me feel like an insignificant piece of shit on the ground," I didn't want to look at him so focused my eye line on his boots. "I'm not good enough to be your girlfriend." I stepped back still avoiding his heavy gaze.

"Wait...get back here," Damiano's hand grasped my forearm and he pulled me back into him, his smell of cologne, cigarettes, alcohol and sweat comforting me in a strange way. "I don't want to hear you say that ever again, bella," he scolded me. "I thought that you were stronger than to let those random girls' words affect you!"

I looked up at him again, his eyeliner clad eyes looking tired and high, and his jet black hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He was a God to me. His eyes were sharp and looked like they could cut me right in half. I knew that he was genuinely hurt that I thought those things about myself, him.

We didn't speak for a few passing moments until Damiano's eyes moved off mine. "Follow me."

Our sweaty hands linked, he dragged me through the dressing room and out to a hallway that led back to the main part of the venue.

"Dami, what are you doing?" I nearly stumbled over my own feet because of how fast he was walking; my legs not quite as long as his.

"Proving to you that you are good enough, fuck, far too good for me," he spoke matter-of-factly. "And proving to these sluts that you are mine."

The hallway was pretty dark, pretty dirty and actually, a pretty good place for a quick fuck.

"Damiano," I laughed, my voice-box vibrating his lips that were attached to my neck right after he'd pushed me against the wall. "People will see us."

"That's the whole point bella." His raspy voice crawled through my veins like a disease taking over and fuck, I was so ready to be consumed by it.

He continued to kiss down my neck until he reached the top of my breasts that were still nearly pouring out of my tank. "Fucking gorgeous," he breathed, pulling my top down with both hands while sucking one of my nipples in his hot mouth and toying with the other between his rough thumb and forefinger.

It was obviously still loud and my moans simply fell into the air mixing with all of the other voices and music. My tits were out and Damiano was worshipping them and I kind of hoped those bitches walked around the corner. I knew that was Damiano's idea.

"Fuck those groupies and their small tits," it was like he was reading my mind. "You know how much of a tit guy I am anyway," he winked at me kissing me quickly then sucking in my other nipple.

"Gimme more Dami," I begged, my hands tangling in his long, dark hair, pulling strands when it felt particularly good.

"Don't need to ask me twice baby."

I was in such a blissful haze that I hadn't even noticed him undo my jeans until he started to pull them down my thighs. "Dami, I swear," I warned him. Knowing it was more of an empty threat than not, he watched me cheekily as he pulled my jeans further down, followed by my skimpy black lace panties.

Running two fingers along my pussy, he collected some wetness and brought those two fingers to his mouth, licking them clean and not breaking eye contact with me the entire time. His eyes were nearly black from being dilated with lust or coke but probably a mix of the both.

My body felt electric at the sight.

"Just fuck me already, rockstar," I begged.

He needed no further encouragement, unbuckling his belt and pulling his hard, angry cock out of his tight, black leather pants. He wore them better than anybody I'd ever seen in my entire life; I was dripping.

He teased me for a second, running the tip of his dick along my entrance. He had one of my legs hitched up to his side but not around his waist since my jeans were still around my shins.

"Please Dami, just fuck me hard!" I pleaded with him desperately after a few more moments of his endless teasing. His eyes narrowed as he steadied his sight on me again and I held my breath, knowing exactly what he was going to do.

The second hand cigarette smoke that hazed around us and the deafening sounds of whatever band was playing now, not to mention the singing, talking and screaming of the crowd made for a pretty hot moment; we could be sprung at any second and it was turning me on like mad.

I gasped as Damiano pushed himself into me. His cock that was as hard as a rock piercing through me and nearly making me cum just like that. It wasn't just the way that Damiano used his dick, or even how big it was. It was the way he carried himself, his persona, his confidence, his sexiness mixed with his gorgeous dick that would bring me to the edge every time.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him closer to me. He had one hand holding my leg up and the other pressed against the wall behind me. His head was hanging, focusing on watching him slip in and out of me again and again.

One thing Damiano loved was watching himself fuck me. He had a huge mirror on the wall at the end of his bed just for this reason.

Every single nerve ending in my body was alight as his cock slid against them. Damiano lifted his head, placing his lips along my neck sucking on it aggressively, his dick moving in and out of me at an electrifying pace. I shut my eyes, crying out at how fucking good he was making me feel. It astounded me how I could be so sad only an hour ago and now Damiano had me on top of the world.

"Keep going," I encouraged my boyfriend. Hah, like he needed it.

"I'm never stopping baby," he breathed, leaning forward and giving me a kiss. His tongue wrapped itself around mine almost moving in sync with his hips.

I felt myself getting closer as Damiano's cock kept hitting my g-spot. "Fuck, fuck, yeah Dami," I moaned, opening my eyes at the last second and I wanted to jump with joy.

Walking into the hall where we were, were the girls talking shit about me. The two of them just stopped, stood still like they'd been glued to the spot. I saw one mouth 'oh my god' and the other just kept watching, probably staring at Damiano's insane ass.

I did the only thing I could think of doing in that moment and let me tell you there wasn't much room for thinking with how Damiano had me nearly cumming.

I made eye contact with one whose eyes weren't glued to Damiano, poked my tongue out and stuck my finger up.

Fuck them, I'm beautiful.

[moonyklance]

Moony Drink Scale

(Written by Prongs & Wormtail)

Affection at all costs (this Remus will cling to whichever friend is in his vicinity, has been known to cry without hugs)

Competition Competence (the most likely to win any game, will resort to violence if necessary)

Dance Pants (if not actively dancing, badly, will be swaying or nodding to the music in his head)

Four The Bore (steer clear; this Remus has a habit of info dumping any nerdy thing he enjoys, knows a lot of facts about slugs)

Remus The Reckless (does any date given to him, tends to be very loud)

Filter? I Hardly Know Her! (king of tmi, will drop secrets like it’s nothing, this is how he came out in fifth year)

Sober Imposter (you can’t tell he’s had anything, can walk in a straight line and talk normally, can be found in the corner on his phone or asking to leave)

Debate Champion (don’t disagree with him. you won’t win.)

The Perv (so many ‘your mum’ jokes…too many, slutty and nutty, draws dicks wherever he can)

The Linguistic Legend (can speak multiple languages and will, Spanish, French, Klingon, prefers Italian)

Emo-tional (cries a lot, mostly at pictures of dogs, listens to simple plan)

No one has seen Twelve Drink Moony yet. We live in fear for what it could be. How can this man handle so much alcohol?

[inthesummerswelter]

Michael Clifford goes to uni with a mountain of advice on what to expect.

None of it, it seems, turns out to actually be true.

University was supposed to be the best time of his life. Or, that’s what everybody told him, citing all the enlightening courses he would take, the raging parties he would attend, the rampant feeling of indestructible freedom he would exult in.

They failed to mention how he would be waiting in the laundry room at three in the morning because all his clothes were frankly beyond stale-smelling and starting to offend his roommates. They failed to mention that all the dryers would subsequently be filled with like, five loads of pink lacy things during his quick run to the minimart for a midnight snack to tide him over until next morning’s breakfast. They failed to mention how fucking long it takes for like, five loads of pink lacy things to actually run through a drying cycle.

Michael Clifford sits in the basement of his dormitory, a pile of dripping laundry beside him in a plastic basket with one of the handles broken, trying desperately to not fall asleep. It smells like dampness and mold and copious detergent spills.

He runs a hand through his hair and rubs along his neck, checking to see if there’s any excess dye from his escapades earlier with a bottle of purple he'd picked up on a whim last Thursday. There is, of course, and he wipes his palm along his denims.

Except he's forgotten that he's not wearing his black denims because they're all stacked up beside him. He's just wiped a streak of dark purple all down the leg of his last clean pair of pajama bottoms.

"Fuck me," he says, grumbling and rummaging among his laundry things for one of those fucking stain sticks that Calum always bugged him about getting whenever they went to the shops together. His fingers snag it but, as he's trying to extricate it from the tangle of wet, black fabrics, it slips out and rolls under one of the dryers that's still chugging along.

"Oh, fuck me."

He's so exhausted, but Michael knows from past experience that the stain will set if he doesn't treat it soon.

So, he gets down on hands and knees and just as soon as he's gotten his whole arm shoved under the dryer, fingers searching the dusty cement for the stick, and his face pressed up against the glass front of the dryer, there's clattering footsteps coming down the stairs.

"God, you fucking perv!"

What?

It takes him a second to determine that it's him that the shrieking voice is addressing, mostly due to sleep deprivation and the fact that one ear is filled with the tumbling thunder of the machine.

"What?" He didn't say he understood why he was being addressed. Through his one available eye - the one not stuck up against the glass pane showing all the pink lacy things - he can see a flurry of long limbs flying towards him and instinctively throws himself away from the dryer.

A girl stands before him in a floppy set of sweats, arms crossed and arms furious. “You think it’s cool to drool all over a dryer with my knickers in it, huh? Think you’re smart or something, perv?”

Immediately he puts his hands up defensively. “Oh my god, oh my fucking god, no! I dropped something under the dryer and I was just trying to reach it. Jesus!”

Grumbling under her breath, she whips through the laundry room towards the row of dryers and, in one economical movement that defies the laws of physics, manages to pile all five loads of pink lacy things into a basket, and leaves in a hurricane.

                                                          +

When they told him about university, there was a lot more emphasis on the amazing things he would learn and less on the amount of time it would take for him to learn them. A lot more emphasis on renewed perspectives and a lot less on how long it would take sitting at a table in the university library reading things dead people wrote over seventy years ago to actually understand why his perspectives needed renewing in the first place.

They also neglected to mention how much of a maze the university library was and how all of the easily-accessible tables were always taken ridiculously early in the evening.

Michael Clifford sighs as he pushes himself through the gaps between the shelves, turning his body sideways so he can get back to his table as quickly as possible and still have some time to complete his coursework before today turned into tomorrow.

Of course, as he’s making the final turn at an insane angle in a narrow passage that makes it impossible to see around the other side because this is university and why would anything as simple as walking back to his table be easy for chrissakes, he bumps into another body.

Well, bumps really isn’t the right word. Crashes is more accurate. Vaguely, his mind catalogs the sensations as he begins to fall backwards from the collision: long hair whispering along the side of his neck, sharp pain in his chest from the edges of textbooks, the condensation coating the outside of a water bottle soaking into his shirt.

“Shit!” The word explodes from his mouth as he bumpers off the shelves behind him, thankfully not knocking any books off the shelves.

He’s immediately chastised by a harsh whisper.

“Will you keep it down? We’re in a library, genius.”

Snarking back automatically, Michael says, “Oh, really? I thought this was a zoo.”

“Well, it might be,” the girl on the ground replies, giving a pointed look at his hair as she readjusts her glasses.

It’s the pink lacy girl, this time dressed in an entirely different set of baggy sweats, not a speck of pink or lacy anything on her.

Fuck this, fuck his history of religion paper on transcendentalism in 19th century America. What did those dead people know anyway?

“I don’t need to put up with this shit, thanks,” he says as he picks up his books from the floor and heads out the door.

He’s going to go take a nap.

                                                          +

When they told him about the textbooks that he would have, they expressed how miraculous they would be, how every page he turned would bombard his brain with information he couldn’t live without now.

They failed to mention how much each of those pages cost. After his trip to the bookstore at the beginning of term, one would have thought that each book was bound in genuine Italian leather and illuminated in gold leaf by an isolated sect of monks who only work once every eight days and take three month-long holidays each year.

Which is why, two days later when he actually goes about writing the essay on transcendentalism in 19th century America because he really doesn’t want to flunk out of uni and have to head back to the Southern hemisphere, he’s having a mild panic attack.

His book is gone, his history text that cost him more than two weeks’ worth of wages at his part-time job, and in its place is a pro-fem book detailing the struggles of minority women after the end of the Civil Rights Movement.

It’s actually quite intriguing, and he finds himself reading through the introduction before he remembers to look in the inside cover for a name.

Michael Clifford finds what he’s looking for in blocky script written with a hunter green gel pen: Tal Harrison.

To his horror, he searches her name in the student directory and finds that she lives in his hall, on his floor. The other end of the hall, granted, which is like over fifteen doors down, but still. On his floor.

His horror mounts as another realization strikes him. If he has her book, then she must have his.

The thought of more confrontation with the pink lacy girl makes him a touch queasy. Not as queasy as shifting the majority of the food-money in his monthly budget over to paying for another copy of this book, though.

Mustering up his nerve, he takes one last look at her room number before shoving his feet into a pair of slippers and grabbing her textbook. He shuffles down the hallway, counting the doorways under his breath.

He needs to know exactly how far away from him she is so he can forevermore maintain that distance at all costs.

Stopping in thirteen doors later, Michael bites nervously at his lip before bringing his hand up to knock at the door. Three knocks, then a pause.

Which stretches out obscenely long.

He knocks again, three more times. Another pause.

Goddamn, he really needs his book back, especially considering he’s fallen into another fit of procrastination and left off the essay until tonight, even though it’s due tomorrow morning at the beginning of lecture.

Michael is just about to knock again when the door to his left opens up and a head pokes out of the frame.

“They’re never in this early, so I would suggest you stop knocking and leave. Some of us are trying to study, y’know.”

It’s the girl. The pink lacy girl. The girl that has his book.

Tal Harrison.

He starts to talk, to try and defend himself and also to ignore the fact that he failed to correctly count to fifteen, when her eyes widen, gaze dropping down to the cover of the textbook he’s still got in his hand.

“Hey,” she says, “You’re the asshole who took my book in the library! And the asshole perving in the laundry room!”

“Excuse me, I’m the asshole trying to return your book right now, thanks. And I was not perving in the laundry, Christ! I was waiting for a dryer to open up because you had filled up every single one with your shit.”

To his surprise, Tal – he figures he better start actually using her proper name now – colors, cheeks pinking up just a few shades lighter than her pink lacy things.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, ducking her head. “I…mis-prioritised. Left the wash until I ran out of everything.”

“Is that even a word?” The question is out before he can catch it, and his face flushes, realizing exactly how rude he probably sounded, especially after she had apologized.

“Nope.” She pops the p, motioning him over to her doorway. “Here, I must have your book then, right? If you have mine, we must have switched them accidentally.”

Her room is nothing like what he had expected. Although, granted, his only expectations – bare walls with a magenta punching bag in the corner – stemmed from aggressive encounters with a girl who wears loose sweats and pink lacy things.

Instead, there’s only a minimal amount of painted brick walls exposed. The rest are covered with whiteboards, which themselves flash in a rainbow of dry-erase markers detailing out complicated-looking diagrams and equations with too many foreign symbols for him to understand.

There is a neat, patterned bedspread in shades of dark blues and purples as well, along with a full bookcase and well-organized desk crammed into the rest of the space in the small single.

“Here,” Tal says, locating and extracting his history book easily from one of the stacked piles at the corner of her desk. “That’s yours, right?”

He takes it from her absentmindedly, eyes still overwhelmed by the formulas on all the whiteboards. Michael honestly thought Luke was the only one crazy enough to be into all that maths shit.

“Physics.” She plays with the pencil behind her ear and readjusts her glasses. “I’m Physics and Gender Studies. Joint degree.”

“That’s…” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“Totally weird, I know, it’s difficult to explain --”

“I was gonna say that it’s really impressive. Like, really impressive.”

She pinks again, looking pleased. “Oh. Oh, thanks. What’s yours? I’m Tal Harrison, by the way.”

Now he’s the embarrassed one. “History, just history. And I’m Michael, Michael Clifford.”

                                                          +

Someone is being killed down the hall. If there’s any way to judge by the noises, Michael would suppose that whatever the method of homicide is, it’s not a clean one.

There’s another piercing scream that cuts through the guitar solo blasted through his ears.

They didn’t mention anything about mass murder in when they told him about living at uni.

Okay, hell, they really didn’t tell him anything actually applicable to life at a university in general, so he’s just going to stop mentioning it at this point.

Five more seconds of shrieking later, and he gets up in a huff, pulling on a jumper over top his boxer shorts and puts on his slippers again. Trekking out into the hall only amplifies the noise as it bounces down the narrow passage and back up.

After some investigation, Michael finds that the sounds take him to the door to the women’s washroom.

Fuck.

One lengthy internal debate later, he tamps down the urge to walk away and turn the volume back up on his headphones. The screaming has intermingled with sobbing now, so he grits his teeth and slowly pushes the door open.

In hindsight, knocking first may have been a good idea.

The door to one of the shower stalls has become inexplicably unlocked and now sways inwards. The contents of a shower caddy are dumped across the floor, shampoo bottles and those weird poofy things that his mom keeps in their bath strewn and rolling around on the slick tile.

Tal is in there, water turned off with the world’s tiniest towel preventing him from getting an eyeful, body quivering and legs knocking.

She’s staring, petrified at the drain in the center of the shower, shallowly breathing.

He clears his throat. “Um, Tal?”

Head snapping up, her eyes widen. “Michael, thank God. Help me, um, please?”

She gestures down to the drain, motioning to the thing he previously thought was just a clump of hair in stuck in the metal grate.

“Holy hell.”

There’s a big-ass spider down there, sitting on top of the drain. He stares at the big-ass spider. The big-ass spider stares back at him and twitches its legs threateningly.

Tal shifts nervously. “Michael?”

He and the big-ass spider exchange glances once more. The eight beady eyes only serve to harden his resolve. “Okay, you’re gonna have to jump over here. I’m not getting any closer to that.”

“Jump?”

“Yeah,” he says, motioning to the little bench where the plastic shower caddy once sat. “Just, like, step up there and jump across to me and I’ll catch you. No worries.”

She wavers, indecision showing as her eyebrows furrow. “But what if I slip?”

“I’ll catch you.” He sounds much more confident than he actually is. He hasn’t worked out in a few weeks, and he’s pretty sure that chicken-boy Luke could bench more than him at this point.

But, when she does jump, she does slip. Everything slows down to half time, and he can only watch, arms outstretched to catch her, horrified as she throws her hands out to break her fall. The world’s tiniest towel drops to the ground just as she crosses the last bit of the gap between them and lunges into his chest.

Boobs. Boobs pressed against him.

Michael takes a long, hard look at the ceiling tile and contemplates his grandmother’s undergarment choices and the last time he found Calum in their room dancing suggestively around to the newest emasculating pop song.

He tries to ignore the sensation of her wet hair dripping on his collarbone as she shakes, repeating over and over, “Oh my God, oh my God, I touched it with my foot, I touched it, oh my God.”

“Tal,” he starts after she’s beginning to calm down. “Tal, um, I’m going to let go of you now and close my eyes so you can get your towel, okay.”

“Okay.”

She’s not brave enough to get anything else besides her room key and robe, and, honestly, Michael’s not either. So, they end up in his room, her in his borrowed shirt and sleep trousers – the one with the purple stripe down the leg because he didn’t end up getting to it in time after all – perched on the edge of his desk chair while he sits on his bed and makes them a cup of fortifying coffee.

They end up talking until three in the morning, even though they’ve both got early lectures the next day.

                                                          +

Okay, he lied. They did tell him one thing about uni that seems to be marginally true.

There is, often as not, a greater chance of finding really good mates at university. Some of those friendships might happen after traumatic incidents because, hey, sometimes, near-death experiences with spiders in bathrooms really bring people together.

Some of those people might be certain particular girls. Those particular girls might live on his floor.

Those particular girls might be named Tal Harrison and smell nice and are the optimum combination of really fucking smart and really fucking cute.  

Michael Clifford might have a little bit of a crush.

Tal ends up routinely saving him a spot at her reserved table in the library when he wakes up late from his afternoon nap. In return, he supplies the coffee and the occasional apple that he manages to steal from Calum’s hoard of assorted fruit.

“Hey,” she says, grinning. “Make yourself at home.”

Silently, he presents the traditional offering of coffee and fruit and they settle down to their work, her on more physics coursework and him on a mountain of history readings he needed to complete by yesterday.

He can’t keep quiet for long though, as he’s distracted by the question that’s been burning on his mind for weeks. It finally bursts out.

“Why were you so mean to me when we first met?”

She twirls a piece of hair around her finger as she continues to copy down notes from her book. “Well, you were in a compromising position. You were kind of a dick. And kind of cute. So, I got flustered.”

Michael blinks. Cute?

“Also, you really did look like you were perving on my knicks so I was totally justified there.”

“You’re cute.”

Oh God, he said that out loud.

She pulls her head up to look at him for a long moment, before her eyes crinkle up in a smile. “Thanks, Mikey.”

So, when he takes her hand later as he finishes his reading and she works through the rest of her notes, it isn’t weird at all.

This is the one thing he’s going to write home about.

[fangirlextraordinaire]

Need

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Black!reader

Summary: When life gets in the way, you & Jared need to reconnect.

Warnings: very slight angst, fluff, steamy but no smut

Word Count: 1.3k+

Written for @impala-dreamer​​‘s Make Me Feel It Challenge

My song: “Strip It Down” by Luke Bryan

20 years.  You’d been Mrs. Jared Padalecki for almost 20 years and cherished every single day. You were with him through it all: the movies, all the years of Supernatural, and the Walker reboot.  The pride shown in your eyes whenever you talked about him to your friends and family.  You loved that man and there’s no denying he felt the same about you.  Whenever he could, he would fly home to be with you, even if he only had a few hours before he had to be back.

As the years went on and the babies started coming, Jared was still loving but his attention was always split.  If it wasn’t the kids needing Daddy, it was the cons or interviews, or a million other things that he had to do.  You weren’t complaining-you knew the life of being married to a celebrity would not be an easy one.  It’s just that the fire between you too had fizzled out to barely a flicker.  You tried your best to hide it from him as he had enough to deal with without you adding another thing to his plate but it was gnawing away inside you.  No, you weren’t going out like that! Having 5 kids may have given you more curves than a Coke bottle but you were going to show Jared that you still could bring him to his knees.

Jared’s POV

This upcoming weekend is our anniversary and I can’t wait to get home to my wife.  I wanted to surprise her but I knew I couldn’t do my same old fancy Italian dinner and maybe a movie.  When did we become so predictable? How can this be the same couple who got lectured by Bob Singer himself for having sex on set? Or the couple who had a quickie in my parents’ bathroom during a party? It has to be something amazing, something that’ll knock her socks off.

Living within 30 minutes of my parents has major advantages.  Mom was thrilled to have the grandkids for a weekend once I explained my idea to her & Dad, who proceeded to make a dirty joke that made even my ears turn red.  I made them both promise not to say anything to Y/N or the kids.  

“Hey, are you up for some golf this weekend?,” Jensen asked while we were out on a run later that day. “Stephen and Brandon will be in town for a DC Comics thing.”

“No, I can’t, man.  It’s our anniversary this weekend and I’m taking Y/N out of town, not that she knows that yet.,” I say with a wink.

“You sly dog! Going for #6, huh?”

“No, you perv.  It’s just that it’s our 20th and I want to make it memorable, not just the same thing I’ve done every year.  Life has revolved around the kids for so long but I want to show her that she’s still my number one and always will be.”

Jensen wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.  “That was beautiful.” (*cue me rolling my eyes*)  “Seriously, though, I think she’s going to love whatever you do.  Where are you going?”

“I found this secluded cabin down near Smithville that I think will really surprise her.  Now, let’s go.  I’m starving!”

Y/N’s POV

I’ve been doing some soul-searching the past couple days and I think I came up with a good idea.  I was going to go the romcom route and decorate the house with rose petals, candles, the whole nine yards.  We rarely have the chance to do full-romance so I want to spoil him and rock his world.

I called Sherri & Gerald while out shopping for supplies and they were overly eager to take the kids but I figured they just miss them.  When I got back home, Jared ran up to me like an excited puppy.

“Hey babe.  I have a big surprise for you.  Mom & Dad are taking the kids for the weekend while you & I spend 3 uninterrupted days locked away in a cabin, clothes optional.”

Wait, what? Well, that trumps anything I had planned!

“Wha-? Are you serious? No wonder Sherri didn’t sound surprised when I asked her to watch the kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was planning something for YOU and called your parents to watch the kids but let’s go with your plan.  It sounds amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says dreamily while gently tilting my head upwards and placing a simple kiss on my lips.  As he pulls back, I grab his shirt and begin to deepen the kiss before we’re (rudely) interrupted by the 3 older kids, 13yo Phoenix, 10yo Gianna, and 8yo Kieran.

“Please don’t give me a reason to need therapy...or eye bleach,” says Phoenix.  He rolls his eyes as I ruffle his curly hair.  Even though he’s barely a teenager, he already dwarfs me like his Sasquatch father.

“How do you think you guys got here, huh? Trust me, it wasn’t the stork,” Jared says to a chorus of gags.

*le time skip*

We dropped the kids off at the Padaleckis’ Friday morning.  Anika & Amara, the 6-year-old twins, were not happy that they couldn’t come with us but one promise of ice cream for breakfast later, we were on our way.  We took the truck that had a bench seat in the front so I sat right beside Jared during the drive.  The thought of giving Jared a little preview of this weekend crossed my mind but since I didn’t want to end up in a ditch, I gave up on that.

About an hour later, after a quick grocery run, we were pulling up in front of a cute, cozy-looking cabin that might not end up on the cover of a magazine but it was perfect for us.  After bringing in all our stuff, we settled on the couch with some wine and a movie, almost like awkward teenagers.  Jared even did the weird fake-stretch move which caused some giggles from us both.  As our laughter died down, the atmosphere changed distinctly.  I could see his eyes darken as he looked me up & down.

Jared’s POV

I don’t know who moved first but one minute, we were staring at each other and the next, I was pulling her into my lap, kissing her with everything I had.  I ran my hands down from her face to those luscious curves that I fell in love with.  We broke apart, panting into each other’s mouths and she motions with her head towards the bedroom. A trail of clothes follows behind us but that’s a problem for tomorrow because tonight, she’s the only thing I plan to think about.

Y/N’s POV

I turned around to give him the full view of the new lingerie set I bought.  The lust is clear in his eyes and any insecurity I had disappears.

“Do you like it?,” I whisper so as not to disturb the mood.  

He doesn’t answer verbally but picks me up and places me underneath him on the bed.  He’s kissing me again but it’s not like the couch kiss.  This is raw, unbridled passion like when we first got married. I reach behind me to unhook my bra while he slowly pulls it down my thong & garter as if he’s unwrapping a fragile present.  I’ve never felt sexier than right now with the way he’s looking at me from between my legs.

He knows all the right things to do to make me sing for him more than once. So glad he went with a secluded cabin because the neighbors would definitely know his name.  While it has been a bit since we could be together like this, we fell right back in sync, finding our rhythm.  

His grip is bruising on my hips, I leave scratches on his back.

I moan, he grunts, we finish together and ride the high.

I cuddle into his side as we catch our breath.  No words need to be spoken as we look in each other’s eyes, knowing that we needed this, needed to get back to each other.

[jungshookz]

How about Y/N decides to take care of Android Yoongi for a week instead of the other way around since I’m assuming that’s what Yoongi does all day when Y/N is out since that’s what he was made to do? I’m not a writer so I hope that’s enough for a drabble!

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: android!yoongi, fluff!, yoongi’s extra cuddly when he’s sick, uhhhh kinda crackheady kinda smutty, tae is a moron and he loves talking about his greatest creation aka yoongi’s penis 

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ note: i switched your request up a little!! i hope you don’t mind :-)) i loved writing this yoongi is so cute 

(gif isn’t mine!)

logically, technically, physically, and literally speaking

dis shit don’t make sense

yoongi, or Y00NG1 if we’re being realistic here, is a robot

so how is it possible that he, a robot, managed to get sick

he has a cold

the common flu

like a weak human being

“sorry, bud. i guess a little bug managed to sneak its way into your latest update. my bad!” namjoon winces as he takes a look at yoongi’s disheveled state “i probably shouldn’t have programmed your update while being drunk off my ass… we were celebrating hoseok’s birthday, remember??”

he’s lucky he’s face timing yoongi and not actually physically in the bedroom because it looks like yoongi wants to strangle him

and namjoon is well aware that yoongi has the capability to do so

“Yes, I faintly remember you programming one of your newer bots to serve us birthday cake.” the tiny little inferior servant robot ended up flinging cake all over the place and yoongi had to clean it up because all of you were too drunk to do anything  

“i thought your system would be strong enough to override it but apparently i was wrong.”

“Apparently you were.” yoongi scoffs sarcastically and reaches over to grab a tissue

namjoon winces again when yoongi blows his nose obnoxiously  

the poor bot

he has bags under his eyes

there’s the occasional glitch of 1’s and 0’s that appear under his skin

a couple screws are loose inside of him which explains the leakage of fluids from his nose

his voice is all gross and nasaly and sometimes when he coughs he coughs out tiny pieces of metal

“look, i’ll see you later, alright? don’t you worry, i’ll get you back into shape!”

“You better. Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to zap you with my laser eyes.”

“…i told you that’s not going to become a thing.”

“You people can give me a vibrating penis but you can’t give me laser eyes?”

“vibrating-? taehyung!!!!!”  

“it was just for valentine’s day!!!!!!!! it doesn’t vibrate anymore it’s back to normal!!”

“oH my god you freak-“

yoongi promptly hangs up because the bickering is starting to make his head pound

he tosses your phone aside and lets out a huff as he flops his head back against the headboard

“feeling any better?” you pop into the bedroom and shut the door behind you as you approach yoongi

“Not since the last time you checked up on me… which was ten minutes ago.” you plop down on the edge of the bed and yoongi reaches over to yank on your wrist “C’mere.” he pulls you over so that you’re sitting on top of him with your legs on either side of him

“aw, my poor baby.” you coo mockingly as yoongi wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your chest

“Don’t patronise me.” yoongi murmurs and you can’t help but giggle because you hear the pout in his voice

you stroke the back of his head and yoongi sniffles

“You think if I overcharge myself I’ll end up frying the bug inside of me to death?” he props his chin up on your chest and looks up at you with bloodshot eyes

you scowl

“don’t even try it, you moron.”

“Don’t have enough energy to walk myself over to the pod anyway.” yoongi huffs and smooshes his face into your boobs again “Mm, I feel better already.”

“shut up, you little perv” you snort and plant a kiss on the top of his head

you don’t fckin know how to take care of sick robot

he’s not even supposed to be sick!!!!

he’s a robot for christ’s sakes

usually when you’re sick you just stay in bed all day and mope about how sick you are and yoongi dotes over you like the caring boyfriend-bot he is

he makes soup for you and tricks you into taking your medicine (he shoved your pill into a chunk of brownie and you fell for it like a damn fool)

he snuggles up with you in bed and turns on his internal heater so that you’re nice and warm

you ended up drooling all over his chest which was kinda gross but it was an endearing kinda gross

but you

you don’t have an internal heater

you could make chicken noodle soup for yoongi but u both know that it’s just going to go strAIGht through his system and he’s going to leak soup all over the sheets

yoongi doesn’t have any pills to take because he’s a robot for christ’s sakes so like

you don’t know what to do

namjoon said he’d stop by later with some ‘medicine’ for yoongi (it’s a little chip he’s going to insert into his neck in an attempt to eradicate whatever bug is floating around in his hard drive) but for now it’s up to you to take care of him

which is just odd because usually he’s the one taking care of you

you know what though

there is an upside to yoongi falling sick

you can finally relive your old life

and by that you mean you’ve been eating like a shiT ton of junk food because yoongi’s been unable to connect to your bracelet

ordering an XL pizza and dunking it in italian garlic dip after yoongi charges up for the night has been the absolute highlight of your week

although you will note that there was a little bit of regret the next morning because you were sO bloated you felt like you couldn’t move

“alright, how are we feeling??” namjoon claps his hands together as the others continue wheeling machines and monitors into the bedroom

yoongi sits ups against the headboard and lets out a breath

“Nothing has changed since I called you two hours ago. I have more a migraine now because someone in here is wearing far too much Axe body spray.”

everyone immediately looks towards jungkook

“well i think it smells nice so-”

“let’s get this show on the road, shall we??” namjoon nudges jungkook to the side to get the monitor

“what… exactly are you going to do again?” you peek over his shoulder and all you see are 1s and 0s so you honestly couldn’t even guess what namjoon was going to do

namjoon pulls a case out of his back pocket and waves it in front of your face before unzipping it

he rifles through the case before pulling out a small blue cartridge

“well, i’m inserting this chip into the monitor and then i’m going to hook yoongi up to the machines and his database should successfully download all the brand neW files that should override his old ones.”

okay

seems simple enough

“oh! okay, well i can help hook yoongi up if you need help.” you offer and yoongi wraps his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back a little before he’s intertwining his fingers with yours

you glance down at him and ruffle his hair

“don’t worry about it, i got it! now lemme just- ah hEre it is!” namjoon pulls out a particularly thiCK looking wire and that plug has to be like an inch thick which is vEry thick compared to his usual charging cord

that’s

that’s very intimidating looking

suddenly u don’t want yoongi to get better if that thing has to be shoved inside of his neck

“step aside, y/n” you immediately stand in front of yoongi protectively and namjoon gives you a pointed look “oh, cut it out. i’m not going to kill him.”

“and if we do kill him we can always just make you a new one!”

“Hey!” yoongi scowls and jimin shrugs because it’s.,.,., well it’s truE

namjoon nudges you to the side and yoongi lets go of your wrist reluctantly before sitting up a little straighter

“alright, and we just-“ namjoon shoves the plug into yoongi’s charging port and-

bZT

yoongi’s head drops and his entire body slouches over

you yelp in surprise and immediately scramble over to him

u know what this is giving you PTSD to the incident and you weren’t worried before but noW you’re worried

“what did you do!!!!!!!!!” you push yoongi up before getting on top of him and giving his shoulders a shake “yoongi??? yoongi!!!!” you cup his face and squish his cheeks together and he’s still unresponsive

“i-i don’t know, maybe i fried a wire?? i probably should’ve performed a trial test before-“

“you didn’t test this?? i thought you were supposed to be smART”

“don’t yELL AT ME” namjoon’s punching a bunch of buttons on the monitor and-

bZT

yoongi’s head shoots up and his eyes pop right open

you watch as his pupils constrict and expand and he blinks quickly

“…you okay?”

“I-“ you hear another small bzt and yoongi twitches before his expression shifts

he places his hands on your hips and gives you a squeeze before you’re suddenly aware of sultry gaze he’s giving you

“I’m more than okay, baby.”

ok

a little odd but

well at least he’s back

“that’s good! i was worried for a sec-“ yoongi buries his face into the crook of your neck and starts to plant kisses on your skin “-ond…?”

“Mhm, yeah.” yoongi purrs and a hand slides to your front and he gives the waistband of your sweatpants a little tug

you immediately swat his hand away and turn to look over your shoulder at the boys

“are we sure he’s okay?” you yaNK yoongi’s hand out of your pants and turn to glare at him “cut it out you weirdo”

“everything seems to be running normally…” namjoon keeps an eye on the monitor and scratches the top of his head

taehyung peeks over at the monitor before his eyes flicker over to yoongi (who is currently trying to get you to kiss him but you keep dodging his mouth and scolding him)

“hyung just out of curiosity which chip did u put in”

“the- the one that i use specifically for yoongi-“ namjoon pauses and narrows his eyes at taehyung “…why do you ask?”

taehyung clears his throat before inspecting his cuticles

“weLL the thing is-“ he lets out a sheepish laugh “i uhhhhhhhhhh i was working on a little side project, and uh, i might’ve used one of your chips because yours are so much more fancier than mine and anYWays i might’ve used your chip to-“

oh my god

“what did you do”

“well you know it’s reaLLY not as bad as you might think-“

“taehyung-“

“and you know if you think about it you should be flattered because i was inspired by you-“

“sPIT IT OUT”

“it’s a seX BOT CHIP OKAY” taehyung winces

“oh my fucking-“

“oW” yoongi bites down on your shoulder before laving his tongue over the sore spot all while his hips are bucking into yours and he went from zero to a hundRED in the span of like 3 seconds

and you know what while this would be nice in private it’s not as nice when there are six other mEN in the rOOM and also yoongi is being very very rough

his fingers dig into the your bum and you let out a squeak because heLLo OW  

“I wanna fuck you I wanna feel you I want you so bad and I-“ his arms are beginning to wrap around your waist like a boa constrictor around its prey and it is noT a pleasant feeling

jungkook and jimin rush over and proceed to pin yoongi’s arm back which doesn’t seem to help because now he’s angry and horny and he looks like he wants to deVOUR you

you’re about to scramble off of yoongi’s lap because this is terrifying but-

“take the WIRE OUT TAKE IT OUT NOW” namjoon is freaKing out because what is HAPPENING TO HIS BABY

you reach over and yank it out of yoongi’s neck before you’re flinging it onto the floor

yoongi immediately slumps over and jungkook and jimin both let out breaths of relief

“i forgot how strong he was” jimin is wiNDED and he’s definitely going to have to lie down for like ten minutes after y’all sort this mess out

“i think there might be a couple glitches in your chip, tae.” you pant and press a hand against your chest

“okay, now let’s put in the actual chip-“ namjoon sends tae a glare and tae smiles sheepishly

he inserts it into the monitor and it lets out a happy chirp before you hear the fans beginning to whir

“you wanna hook him up y/n?”

“y/n has to do it because i don’t want yoongi humping me”

“me neither”

“ya same lol gross”

“very smooth movement in the hips tho”

“wait what”

“what”

bZT

yoongi shoots straight up and he blinks furiously

once again his pupils are dilating and expanding at an abnormal rate and you start to worry again until he wrinkles his nose which is a very yoongi-like habit

“That was quite an unpleasant experience. I would not like to experience that again.”

ah

it’s good to have yoongi back

he yanks the cord out of his neck and drops it onto the floor and you roll off of him and watch as he reorients himself with everything

you jump in surprise when your bracelet beeps twice and buzzes on your wrist

yoongi freezes before turning to glare at you over his shoulder

“Did you seriously eat an entire XL pizza last night?” You’re going on a green juice cleanse for the next two days to flush out all the toxins in your body. I’ll go make a smoothie for you now.” he pushes past the boys and leaves the room but continues to talk “And why haven’t you done the laundry yet? I- Oh, god, look at the state of the living room!”

you let out a huff and roll your eyes playfully “…is it too late to bring sex bot yoongi back”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

[monstersinthecosmos]

gosh can you imagine marius biting you 😳

[monstersinthecosmos]

do you ever think about nights when amadeo was being bratty like, outside of the usual Acceptable Brattiness? Do you ever think about nights when they had like actual arguments and became actually short with each other?

Nights when amadeo breaks the studio down in silence, refusing to look at marius, in a mood. Marius can sense that amadeo is thinking about going to sleep in one of the boys rooms, even just downstairs somewhere, because he doesn’t want to be around marius right now.

but he’s being bratty, he’s feeling sorry for himself, getting the way he gets when he gets too close to religion again.

and punishment isn’t the answer this time; a whipping will only make him sadder. Marius watches him as he folds up the drop cloths and lines the paint pots back up, his face stony enough to age him.

he needs gentleness, perhaps, if he were just willing to let marius give it to him.

It’s new, the way marius nudges him. Gentlest mental push. No, you want your own bed. It doesn’t matter that the master is there.

Marius sees the moment the suggestion hits him, the way it loosens his shoulders. Up on his toes, to blow out a candle, and then he lowers to the ground. Rubs his eyes. Sluggish as he makes his way to the bed chamber.

curled on his side, a bit later when marius enters, facing the fire, his back to the door. Still refusing to look, full of stubbornness, not even rolling over when marius sits on the edge of the bed, or puts a hand on amadeo’s shoulder.

suggestion again, tiny push, not a punishment. He wants amadeo to relax, to be himself again, to heal. Maybe even apologize, when he surfaces again. But amadeo flinches, as if he feels it. Trying to resist still, and thinking that he’s sick of magicians tricks.

marius leans close. Reach’s to tuck a strand of amadeo’s hair behind his ear.

“Time is a sort of river of passing events,” marius says softly. Amadeo scowls and swats at marius’s hand, curls up tighter.

the next invisible push is not so gentle. Enough that he feels the way it ripples down amadeo’s spine. But the rigidly floods out of him. Little sigh as he rolls onto his back, eyes glassy as he stares up at the ceiling.

you’re safe. You’re so safe, marius suggests to him. The little moan is like music, warming inside marius’s chest. And you deserve pleasure, there is not need to beg for absolution. And you desire your master’s comfort.

so it goes like that, with amadeos legs falling open, and the heat of the fire on the side of his face as he stares up at the master. Boneless and obedient the way he was told to be, accepting the comfort. Accepting massages, and oil slicked fingers, and tiny sips of blood as he orgasms. Over and over, and the master traces circles on the tender spot inside, until he’s so wrung out he could fall asleep like this, and he can’t remember why he so angry.

and Marius is warm from their shared heat, seeping into him through the blankets, from the fire. Amadeos cheeks turn red, unsure how he got here, drowning in all of it because he was silently told to.

you needed this, Marius suggests, three fingers deep, as amadeos eyes flutter closed, his beautiful thick lashes resting softly on his cheek. He doesn’t wake as Marius bends to clean him, licking the salty release from his belly. He draws amadeos cock into his mouth but just holds it here, just sits with it. Lets the pleasure permeate into amadeos dream world. You are safe. You are free. You will wake up yourself again.

You are perfect. You are perfect. You are perfect.

[monstersinthecosmos]

Marius and Armand taking a romantic vacation cruise somewhere where Marius introduces him to everyone on the ship as “my son”. They even go so far as to do all the corny planned activities and he says things like “that’s my boy” or “he gets his aim from my side of the family”. Then at night they go to the dance floor where they spend the the entire time dancing and slowing rubbing against each other and sucking drinks from one another’s fingers before retreating back to their cabin to have very loud sex with the door to their balcony and all the windows open. The next day they wear matching family vacation tees with some god awful font saying Team De Romanus on them for when they go ashore

I feel like you’re fucking with me because I used to work on cruise ships and you have no idea how many sugar baby couples I used to see and how we always had to feel them out the first day and figure out if it was a parent/child or if it was a couple except some of them hit the skimpy outfits and public makeout HARD so there was no mystery.

anyway thinking about the time I had to deliver a package to a guest room and it was the very handsome and fit 55 year old silver fox with his 19 year old boyfriend who wore very short shorts the whole cruise and how he came to answer he door all flushed in a bathrobe with the young man barely covered by a sheet in bed behind him 😂

he tipped really well, it was the best.

anyway you’re quite right; I imagine them in one of the more expensive cruise lines where there isn’t rowdy partying like seabourne or something, probably one with lots of sea days and less ports because he likes the feeling of drifting out there and can take Armand to visit these cities any time they want, no need to cram them all into one trip. He definitely shelled out for the spa packages and pays for Armand to get his hair cut and he’s never gotten an expensive haircut before where it was so relaxing to have people touch his scalp.

he also pays for dinner in the speciality restaurants every night instead of using the dining room where the food was included in ship fare; they get the dim candlelight corner tables so he can hand feed Armand, and Armand touches Marius’s cock under the table, they get drunk on fancy wine and the sommelier knows Marius’s name and gives him all the best first picks because he’s such a generous tipper.

more than one night he gave armand head up on the forward top deck when no one around so that armand could lay back in the deck chairs and watch the stars! He’s never been treated like this beofre!

anyway armand is young and reckless and gets a little too drunk most nights; marius fucks him gently so he doesn’t get the spins, it’s really nice with the way the ship rocks. He never feels seasick, more like he’s being cradled to sleep.

and you know armand sleeps in every morning and Marius is out having his coffee on the deck and attending all the scenic cruise lectures ! He loves educational stuff!!!

anyway listen. I could say more but. 🥸

[monstersinthecosmos]

I think so much about like, what Marius saw in Daniel's blood when they'd drink from each other, and what he saw of Armand, and how it changed his idea of who Armand was, to be able to see him as a dominant, as a monster, as someone powerful and frightening. And it makes me wonder about like, how much of the sex stuff did he see, and what did he think of it, did he feel he played a part in it, of making Armand this way?

And I wonder, thinking about Armand as the dominant, did Marius already know that potential was in him? Not just being a vampire and being the immortal half of the couple, but thinking back to the question of who is the other's slave, and who is really charge, who holds real power when you're so obsessed with somebody, and when you respect their fragility; in both cases, the immortal caved at the idea of losing their weak little human.

There's so many ways that Marius never saw Armand as a complete person (he even admits this in TVA, that line about not loving Armand as respectfully as Armand loved B+S) and I think so often about how much context Daniel would've provided.

It works both ways, too, like Daniel seeing Marius's memories of Armand and seeing him as a messy human. It's just so powerful to me to ask how their memories and respective relationships with Armand puzzle together!!!!!!!!!

[monstersinthecosmos]

i want a human AU about Marius as just a really boring guy with an office job, divorced sad sack nearing mid-life crisis realizing he hasn't made a career of his many passions, super strung tight and touch starved and lonely and a friend (probably a weirdo friend like Avi) finally gives him the number for a dom service he should try. And Marius's interest is piqued; he remembers being into stuff like this before the divorce shriveled up his libido, and tbh it's not entirely even ABOUT libido as much as like, maybe he just wants someone to hit him so that he feels something, and then he'll be able to get some sleep.

so anyway a few weeks later after he's worked up the courage and filled out the little survey online and signed all the waivers and submitted his medical documents etc he has his first session with Amadeo; he shells out for a nice hotel room, not sure if it's appropriate to bring this person home, maybe secretly wanting to show off, but Amadeo is so cold and deadpan and doesn't even comment on it, isn't impressed at all. He shows up in jeans and a ratty hoodie and just pushes forward to go change in the bathroom, and comes out in tight black shiny gear, flogger in hand, and after an hour Marius's ears are ringing and he's red all over and he had no idea so much degrading, mean shit could come out of this angelic looking face.

Amadeo doesn't talk much afterwards but sticks around for a little while, back in his jeans and hoodie, and he makes Marius tea and asks if he wants a massage. There are a few minutes that Marius feels the threat of sub drop hovering at the edges, feeling old and stupid, thinking his life has been a waste, but Amadeo is graceful enough to distract him. Doesn't talk much, just enough, asks if he wants to put a movie on, and Marius watches the soft curiosity in his face as he keeps glancing at the screen.

Marius tips him well, thanks him, spends the night in the hotel since he paid for it.

It becomes a regular spot in their calendars. They get a little more elaborate. Amadeo is honest when he's not confident about something, and keeps it professional, but he allows Marius to teach him. Marius shows him all the knots he likes, and teaches him some other methods for impact play. More and more, in the aftercare when they're done, Amadeo's personality comes out. He talks more. Marius even gets him to laugh.

And Amadeo is professional, but he's young. Marius notices when his resolve starts to chip away. Maybe Marius leans into it, even though he knows he shouldn't. Maybe it turns into breaking some rules on their original contract, like when they finally make out. And the time Marius finally reaches to touch the bulge in Amadeo's pants, because Amadeo never gets off in their sessions. Even Amadeo's agency discourages unsafe sex or fluid exchange, and neither of them talk about it when Marius finally sucks him off, and Amadeo comes all over his face.

So what happens when it gets unethical, when they're in too deep? Amadeo tells him one night that he doesn't think he should see Marius as a client anymore, that their boundaries have become too murky, and he suggests someone else that Marius could see instead, but it just turns into them meeting outside the agency. Meeting in the daylight, for coffee, and Amadeo blushes when Marius puts a hand on his leg beneath the table.

"I still want to pay you, you know," Marius says, near his ear. "Not as a client. I just want to pay you."

And just a bit longer before they finally start meeting at Marius's house. Off the books now, no agency involved, but Marius keeps paying him. And texts him through the week, buys him clothes, Venmo's him with a note to treat himself to lunch. Whenever Marius gets paid he thinks about how much he'll pass onward to Amadeo. Sometimes, watching the numbers drain from his bank account feels the same as an orgasm draining his body.

Maybe a year in before they finally fuck. And at first it's still Amadeo in charge. Smacking him on the face and telling him what to do, telling him how fast to go, making demands. Riding him for the first half, staring down at Marius like he's worthless. Stoic for as long as he can before he falls apart whimpering, and then he's just a brat. He doesn't protest when Marius takes control, flips them over, rails him into the mattress. Tears in Amadeo's eyes as he comes on his soft belly, and he presses his hands to his face to hide.

Then, the next time after that, Amadeo actually spends the night.

His name is Armand, he admits one day. Quietly, after dinner, as Marius signs the check. His real name, he means. And he's blushing again, and looking away, and tells Marius he can still call him Amadeo if he wants to. But his name is Armand. If he likes that instead.

And Amadeo was the dom, but Armand is something else.

Marius should have known, when he saw the eagerness, teaching him how to work rope and teaching him the best places to land a flogger and he should've known as Amadeo's fa��ade cracked, every time they've fucked, the way he became so small and needy. He should've seen the way his big wet eyes could follow Marius around the room sometimes.

Subbing was fun for Marius and he needs it sometimes, for sure. But he's in too deep now. He needs both, he needs anything. He needs Armand most of all. And domming Armand is just as good.

[monstersinthecosmos]

did you ever wonder if naive little Andrei didn't have sex ed and only knew about sin and once he gets to Venice he's constantly worrying about getting pregnant but Marius thinks it's kinda cute so doesnt correct him

[monstersinthecosmos]

feeder marius teaching amadeo about how romans liked to gorge themselves at feasts and puke between courses by hand-feeding amadeo until he gets sick. he rubs amadeos back through it and then they start again, and again, and again. 😌

[monstersinthecosmos]

marius's relationships with sexually liberated women who challenge him vs his relationships with subservient men who admire him 😌

[monstersinthecosmos]

rescuing a stray kitten is really just giving me a million ideas about Marius & Amadeo though.