#the first (vanity) doesn’t have holes in the right places

[algolagniaa]

I HATE BUILDING FURNITURE. sorry lesbians in my phone

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 22 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-He sets you on the vanity, the marble cool against your bare bottom. The contrast of his hot hands upon your thighs is maddening, and you whimper as he withdraws from you.

“Shh,” he says. “Do you want these undone? Or do you want me to touch you?”

The fact that you actually have to think for a moment before you answer makes his eyes shine.

“Untie me,” you answer as quickly as you can form words. By the way he looks at you, you’re afraid it wasn’t fast enough. There is a heavy pause between you, electric with the warring of your wills.

“Hmm.” You can’t stop yourself from making a sound when he leaves you, though he only takes a few steps to the tub, turning on the taps.

“I’ve had a long day,” he says, looking you over like he might like to eat you.

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, your heart in your throat.

This is it, you realize. No turning back now.

“Where were you?”

“You’ll find out later, if you’re a good girl.”

You’re not sure you like the sound of that.

He bats the door closed with a swing of his long arm before returning to you, standing between your spread legs. You are cold, in just the thin silk of the stupid nighty, and the line of his body so near yours warms you like a furnace. He takes your wrists in his sure hands, running his fingers over the ropes as he admires his handiwork upon you. Then he begins to pick at the first knot, and even he seems to have trouble undoing it at first.

You really hope he doesn’t have to cut it. You do not like the thought of a blade in his hand, that close to your skin.

“Is this…something you’re really into?” you dare ask, your heart in your throat.

“Shibari? I may have dabbled in my misspent youth,” he answers with a smirk, enjoying your uneasiness far too much. “Are you curious about it, kitten?”

“No,” you answer quickly, winning a pout that has no business on the lips of a grown ass man, but somehow is cute.

You understand it’s something some people enjoy, and that’s perfectly fine. Consenting people, who know what they’re getting into, and trust each other.

Sadly, that is not the boat you’re in right now.

“Shame. Maybe later, when you’ve come to trust me more.”

The fact that he knows you don’t trust him now is perhaps a little heartening. However, you decide you will not be bringing it up again.

When at last your restraints are reduced to a pile of red silk on the floor you cannot suppress your sigh. He runs his hands over the marks in your skin, seeming fascinated by the twisted patterns imprinted in your flesh.

“You alright?” he asks, rubbing to aid the circulation. Even just on your wrists, his touch is maddening.

You press your lips, warring with the desire to tell him off for it, or play it like no big deal. You decide to go with what is already obvious between you.

“I didn’t like that.”

He turns your face up to his with a hand that engulfs your jaw. “Then be a good girl, and I won’t have to do it again.”

“Be sweet to me, and I will.”

He narrows his eyes at you for your pithy insolence, but you can tell that he’s secretly pleased. When he lowers his head to kiss you, his tongue sweeping your mouth possessively, you hate to admit that you forget all about your aching wrists, and your self-respect, straining to reach more of his soft mouth as he uses his height to draw away.

He places your hands on his chest, looking at you expectantly. Realizing that he wants you to undress him, you try for the first button.

As it turns out, you really weren’t lying about the circulation in your fingers. Or maybe the lack of use throughout the day, something. It is not easy to undo the first button of his shirt. It is tiny, and the hole is tight, and you are ready to rip it off by the time you finally manage to slide it through.

 “Don’t tear it,” he warns, as though he can read your thoughts.

You sigh, and concentrate on the second. It gets easier as you use your fingers more…and the prize you begin to unveil spurs you on. You realize you are biting your lip again when you taste blood in your mouth. Button by button, you unveil the marvel that lies beneath.

He stands still as a statue as you work, watching you with those eyes that miss nothing. You are not half as nervous as you should be, enjoying your task. When you pull out his shirt tails you finally begin to understand. 

A myriad of scars covers his body from collar to below his waist line. Large and small, fresh and old. Cuts, and round puckered flesh that look like bullet wounds. Your heart drops to your feet, and you sense it as John stiffens under your scrutiny. 

“Oh, honey...” 

It hurts to look at. It hurts because you cannot fathom the pain he must have gone through, enduring all these injuries. He lets you touch him, tracing the lines of these old wounds. You meet his eyes, finding him vulnerable, before giving in to the urge to press your lips to his chest over an old scar that cuts across his pectoral. His eyes slide closed, and you think it might be the first time you've seen him surrender to anything.

You slide down from the counter, pressing against his body as you plant your feet on the floor. Wanting to see all of him, you circle him slowly, never once taking your hands off of him. The scars continue there, and across the expanse of his powerful shoulders are sinister looking tattoos. Some men get tattoos like this because they think it makes them look hard, but somehow you just know that they mean something in his world. Something...ominous. On top of the tattoos, the praying hands in the center of his back bears a horrible brand of an upside-down crucifix.

That might have hurt more than all the rest.  

You rest your head in the divot of his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his muscled torso. It feels good, to nestle here. Better than it should.

“I wouldn't have run,” you tell him, and you feel a tremor run through his steadfast frame, his big hands covering yours just beneath his heart. 

You make your way back to his front, and his sharp eyes follow your every movement. 

“You would have had questions.” 

“Of course I would have.” 

You’re not a total idiot.

“You would have been scared.” 

You just shake your head, knowing it was true. At that time, you wouldn't have had the sense.  Even now, knowing what he was capable of... you still weren't half as scared of him as you should be. 

His gaze upon you is surprisingly soft, as he considers your words. You dare think you’ve finally gotten through to this man, until his long fingers close around your jaw, holding your gaze upwards. “You’re not lying to me just to appease me, kitten?”

Rather than follow the wiser path of meek contrition, you give way to the indignant anger rising in your breast.

“You’re so worked up about me running from you, but you know what? You ran from me first. You didn’t even give me the chance to accept you.”

He narrows his eyes down at you, considering what you’ve said.

If you're lying, he has to punish you.

If you're telling the truth, then this whole thing blew up for nothing, and it's all on him. 

Rather than hash this out, he dips his head to kiss you again, and he is not exactly gentle with you. Hungry for you, his tongue sweeps into your mouth, his teeth on your lips leaving you bruised. His hips pin you against the vanity, his erection pressing into you unforgivingly.

His fingers tangle in the lace skirt of your nightie, pulling it up. You fight him on instinct, and hear the silk tear as he jerks it from your grasp, defeating you so easily. He draws it up over your head with a flourish and throws it across the room, leaving you utterly bare to his gaze.

You are glad for the warm steam that is filling the room from the running bath. The tub is so massive it’s not even a quarter of the way full. Still, you try to cover yourself, but John grips your wrists in his big hands, twisting your arms behind you easily.  

His eyes rake over you, and your nipples harden as though he’d touched them. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.”

He falls on you, releasing your hands to cup your face as he kisses you again without mercy. His touch is possessive, inexorable, unyielding, and his hands explore your body, the curve of your bare back and the swell of your breast. His thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple make your knees weak. He recedes like a crashing wave down your body, his mouth upon your chest, your breasts, his tongue wreaking sweet agony upon your aching tips.

You don't know how much more of this your pussy can take. You've never been this turned on, for this long, in your life. 

You blink stupidly, when suddenly John is on his knees before you, looking up at you with his nose nuzzling the curls between your legs. That brief moment of eye contact electrifies you, before he guides your leg up over his shoulder, and licks your weeping slit. You lean back on the marble counter, and if not for his strong hands on your hips and your ass, you would have fallen, your legs shaking beneath you as he wrecks you with that devilish tongue.

He brings you so close to the edge with licks and little sucks, torturing you making circles with the tip of his tongue before taking mercy with broad, hard strokes, two of his long fingers sliding inside of you. That burning knot of pleasure begins to tighten within your womb. You clench on his fingers, your grip white-knuckling on the side of the vanity, so relieved for release on the horizon that you could cry.

That is when he leaves you, wiping his mouth on your belly as he stands before kissing you with the same punishing force as before. You whimper into his mouth, cheated of your pleasure, so pent up you could die.

“Hush,” he tells you, more gently than you would have expected from him in this unforgiving mood. He lifts you up onto the vanity again, easily as though you weigh nothing. With stars in your eyes, you watch as he undoes the zipper on his slacks with quick efficiency, pushing it all down to the floor and kicking it away.

You cannot help but stare, your lip caught between your teeth again. How many times a day can you think to yourself, This man is beautiful? His trim waist and powerful thighs covered in crisp dark hairs. The line of soft dark hair on his belly leads the eye downward…he is thick, and long, and even while you know you are in trouble, you cannot quell the dark thrill of knowing he is going to absolutely ruin you.

“Like what you see?” he asks, pulling you from your trance. He pumps himself up and down a few times, spreading the precum leaking from his tip.

Unable to find words in that moment, you nod.  

“What was that, sweetheart?” His big hands on your thighs pull you to the edge of the vanity top, his body wedged between your legs.

You make a frustrated sound between your teeth. “Yes, I find you very fucking beautiful, Mr. Wick.”

He offers you a cruel little laugh before catching your lips with his, his thick tip hovering at your weeping entrance. You try to move closer to him, hungry for the stretch and burn of his cock entering your body, but he holds you fast.

There is a surprising vulnerability in his next words, uttered quietly against your ear. “You want me?”

“Yes.”

God help you, but it’s the truth.

You give a strangled moan as he pushes inside of you, writhing from his cock and his teeth in your shoulder. The sound he makes is more animal than human as he works himself inside.

“Even your pussy fights back,” he huffs with strained laughter, easing himself in and out. “God, baby, you feel so good.”

Your fingernails dig into his shoulder as your body protests the invasion half-way.

“Wait…”

“Can’t…” he informs you raggedly. “Breathe for me, kitten, I know you can take me.”

“It’s been a long time,” you admit between a deep inhale, trying to adjust. A long time, and to be frank, none of your previous experiences with men prepared you for him.

“How long?” he demands, as though this is information he desperately needs to know.

“Over a year.”

Long before you met him.

He veritably growls his approval at this figure, and if you weren’t so cock-drunk you would have rolled your eyes at the fragility of the male ego. As it is…you can hardly think straight at all.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasps against your skin as he slides deeper and deeper inside. “So wet for me. So good.”

You cry out as he bottoms out against your cervix. He looks down between you, fascinated by the sight of his body buried in yours to the hilt.

“That hurt?”

“A little.”

“Sorry.” You can hardly believe it when he kisses you with contrition. “I’ll try…” He thrusts again, slower this time, and it makes you see stars. “To be gentle.” He presses his thumb to your lips, and you open for him, sucking and leaving a trail of saliva as he withdraws. When he circles that thumb over your clit you mewl like the needy little kitten you are for him, your thighs tightening upon his narrow hips. He moves for you at just the right speed, teasing you with the thickness of his shaft in all the right places inside. Your walls grip him with abandon, desperate for the pleasure he’s been dangling before you for days.

“You wanna cum, pretty kitten?”

“Yes,” you pant, so desperate for release. Your tight little pussy clenches around his cock in answer, and he sucks in breath through his teeth.

“Then you have to say something for me. And you have to mean it.” 

Fuck. 

“What?” You can hardly remember your own name, much less form complicated sentences as he fills you to bursting, merciless and so very wonderful, his thumb working magic on your clit.

“Say you’re mine.” 

He glides inside you, stretching you more somehow, but removes his hand to grip your hip.

When you meet him with silence he kisses your neck, nipping at your skin as punishment. There will be marks all over your chest and neck tomorrow.

It doesn't matter.

Not like you're going anywhere.

Not like anyone will see you. 

You keen, craving more pressure, more friction, pulling him deeper with legs wrapped around his back, bringing you so close to where you need him. You think you can come on his cock, whether he touches you or not. It would be a victory, to prove that your pleasure needn't only come at his own whim. 

Knowing all too well, he denies it to you, holding himself just shy of it. 

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you're mine, and I'll give you everything you want.” 

“Even freedom?” you dare ask as he strums at you again, a master at keeping the fire at just the right height, making you feel so good, but never quite enough to make you cum.

You don't know how you have the cheek, with his clever fingers between your legs frying your brain.

This man was made to torture you, it seems. He shifts, so that he is making shallow strokes that only barely stimulate you. You scream a little in frustration. It actually makes him smile. 

“Did you know that ninety percent of women cannot orgasm on penetration alone?”

“You don't have to be so fucking smug about it.” 

“You need me.” 

“Do I?”

You reach for your clit, hoping he will be distracted by watching you. Most men would, but not John. He is a man of focus, determination, sheer will. He catches your hand with a warning growl, twisting it behind you. 

Pulling you closer, he buries himself as deep as he can, his face buried in your hair. It doesn’t hurt this time. It feels like he makes you whole, and you feel the bass growl he makes against your ear in the depths of your soul.

“Please? I can’t wait anymore, baby girl. I want to feel you cum with me.” There is a new desperation in his words, and you know he must be close.

“Then let me cum,” you answer, hardly recognizing your own voice. “I want it. I want you.”

“Say you’re mine.”

You are tempted. Boy, are you. You want it so badly your legs tremble, your back arched tight as a bow. A tear rolls down your cheek, because fuck you if a part of you doesn't want to say it. Not just because it's the only way you're going to get to orgasm, and he’s driving you insane. But because...you know it would make him so fucking happy.

You’re afraid if you say it aloud, it might be true.

You are so close, but he is a master of bringing you just to the edge before backing away. In that moment, you hate him as much as you love him. You know, you just know, that if you give in to this possessive madness so soon, there will be no going back. You will be so fucked, and not in the way you want to be.

You just shake your head.

“Go to hell.” 

It is, decidedly, the wrong answer, of course. His eyes darken, and he ruts inside you out of spite, spilling himself with a growl and his teeth in the curve of your neck. You feel the scalding hot rush inside you, the impossible fullness. It is good, and you are this close as he shudders against you, but in the end it’s just not enough.  

You keen miserably as his slick length slides from you, leaving you filled with his cum, utterly wrecked yet still unsatisfied. He wipes his tip across your belly, marking you.

Men.

“You are the stubbornest fucking woman I’ve ever met,” he grumbles low in your ear.

It sends a shiver across your skin.

You have to try twice before you find your voice.

“Thank you.”

He actually laughs, a harsh, disbelieving bark as he shakes his head at you. You watch as he goes to turn off the bath taps, the tub finally full, thoroughly enjoying the view despite how he’s left you. He steps into the water, turning so that he can see you with his arms on the rim of the tub.

You take some pleasure in the fact that he doesn’t look quite satisfied either.

Though your legs barely work, you slide down to the floor with a glare, intending to use the shower instead, away from him. You feel his seed dripping from you, down your thighs in warm thick rivulets. He didn’t ask if you are on birth control, and you’re grateful for your IUD, feeling like you’re armed with a secret weapon. If he means to bind you further to him with bearing his child…he’ll be disappointed. You decide right then that’s a card you’ll play close to your vest.

You take one step towards the shower before he makes a sound of warning low in his throat, and you freeze in your tracks. “In here,” he directs, and you close your eyes with wariness. Of course, that was the deal you’d made with the devil, and he’d warned you not to break an agreement with him.

He’s going to torture you more, you reckon, with his mouth or his fingers or maybe even that magnificent cock again, and you just don’t think your body can take it.

You’re not sure your heart can take it, either.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Resigned to your fate, you go, sinking into the warm water. It would have been wonderful, you know, if your every nerve had not already been on fire.

You hover up to your neck in the deep tub, trying to relax and succeeding only by half. “Come here,” says your beautiful tormentor, holding out his hand to you. The invitation is deceptively gentle this time. Mr. Wick, the undisputed King of Hot and Cold.

“You are such an asshole,” you inform him as you take his hand, letting him pull you into the circle of his arms against his chest.

“So you tell me,” he says with his lips against your temple, his arm around your waist holding you to him. “You might be a tiger kitten, but you’re still just a kitten.” He almost sounds proud about it. “I’m going to win in the end.”

You’re afraid he’s right, but you’re not ready to surrender just yet.

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: enhypen x fem!reader, platonic!Sunoo, ft. Lee Felix and Han Jisung of Stray Kids and Choi Soobin of TXT as side characters

genre: crack, fluff, isekai!au, royalty!au

content warnings: the crown prince is a bit of a jerk, war and an absent father are mentioned in passing, other than that there's nothing I can really think of? but lmk if I missed anything!

word count: 3.9k

summary: upon meeting her betrothed and possible murderer for the first time... our protagonist finds herself sure of two things: 1) he's every bit the princely male lead of the novel she'd loved so much in her previous life and 2) he's actually a little insufferable.

notes: It's finally hereeeee!! I'm so sorry for making you all wait for this, but I'm slowly working my way out of that writing slump~ I'm not sure whether or not I like how this turned out, but I hope you guys can just overlook it and move on if it sucks 😭 (please, for my sake, do. I will literally cry if my anxiety's proven right rn-)

I will be making a taglist for this fic, so if you're interested in being added please either drop an ask or let me know in the comments

Everything after the cut IS proofread for once, but please feel free to let me know if any typos slipped through the cracks!

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“Nonono, the blue one was a million times better,” Sunoo said, pointedly ignoring the deathly glares of Felix, your head maid.

  “Maybe it would be if I were going out for an evening ball or something, but it's a bit much for seeing a guest over some tea,” you reply dismissively, inspecting the girl standing in the three large mirrors placed round the circular platform you’d been standing on for the past hour, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another as your maids brought dress after dress out from your closet and whisked you through trying them on one by one. 

  Sunoo rolled his eyes at the statement, marching towards your vanity and sifting through the jewelry scattered across it till he settled on a length of thin silk ribbons. “Babes, be real with me here, it's not just some tea party and you know it.”

  The three maids who'd been helping you into the layers of lace and silk that made up the soft buttercup yellow gown Felix had chosen stepped to the side to give Sunoo room on the platform behind you, having learned very early on that there was little to no point in trying to stop him. 

  Ribbon in hand, he began weaving the silky material through the hairstyle they'd arranged as neatly and prettily as possible, ignoring a pained noise from the one nearest him. “I mean, it's not every day your fiance comes all the way out to your family’s manor on the outskirts of the city to make sure the bride-to-be he doesn’t actually care about hasn't lost all her marbles.” 

  You didn’t understand how Sunoo managed to carry on chattering with their eyes boring holes into the back of his head, especially when their dirty looks were nothing compared to the expression on Felix’s face–his twitching left eye reminded you of a glitching video game character–but he did, carrying on as if it were just the two of you in the room.

  “Your Grace,” Felix’s voice was strained, “I really do wish you wouldn't say such things to her Highness.”

  “What? That her beloved fiance's come to see her?” Sunoo said, batting his eyes and pouting in mock innocence.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Felix snapped back, eyes darting between his face and the silk in his hands. 

  “You know she doesn’t really care, right? Why would she care about that cold-hearted stone-faced bas-”

  “Sunoo!” you gasped, cutting him off by stomping on one of his fluffy house slippers with the toe of the wildly uncomfortable heel that had been forced onto your foot. You swear you see the corner of Felix’s lip twitch at the strangled noise your best friend makes. 

  “Ow ?! That was uncalled for- what’s with the look? Is anything I’m saying wrong?”

  “No, but you still shouldn’t be talking that way about a member of the royal family,” you reply with irritation, “you not liking him doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s the fucking prince now does it?”

  In your peripheral, the three maids shift uncomfortably, and Felix doesn’t even try to hide a long-suffering sigh, making a mental note to inform your tutor that your etiquette lessons still weren’t sticking the way they should. 

  Sunoo sees this, of course–grinning evilly at you. “It would seem that it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a princess either, Your Highness, better wash out that potty mouth of yours before your dearly betrothed arrives.”

  You nearly grab a handful of your skirts to give yourself enough mobility to kick him, but Felix launches himself in your direction before you have the chance, shoving Sunoo rather unceremoniously to one side and holding your wrists under the guise of guiding you off the platform. 

  “An excellent idea Your Grace, but I fear we have neither the time nor the soap for such an endeavor as m’lady’s presence is needed in the garden.”

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  It really was a scene straight from one of your romance manhwas; a neatly laid tea table under a pearly white gazebo, your gloved hand wrapped delicately round the gilded handle of a steaming cup of tea–the picture of perfection in your soft yellow dress that matched the white and yellow roses blooming in the bushes surrounding you perfectly. 

They filled the cool morning breeze with their sweet perfume, sending ripples across the clear blue lake so it glittered in the morning sun.

  It was beautiful.

  So beautiful. 

  And yet it still didn’t quite compare to the man sitting accross from you. 

  You’d read his description countless times. Everything from the plush curve of his lips to the sharp intensity held in his dark eyes… yet nothing could have prepared your heart for the sound of his laughter, carried to you over the foliage, the sight of those lips spread in an easy smile as he chatted with your brother, shoulders shaking with mirth.

  Nor, you think, could anything have braced you for the chill that would run down your spine when his smile dropped the second Soobin said his goodbyes, worriedly whispering a plea for you to ‘behave yourself’ as he kissed your cheek and left the two of you alone. Your chest constricting almost painfully when those same dark eyes that you’d squealed and giggled over late at night fixed on you, void of any emotion. 

  He'd stood from his place at the table to greet you, bowing formally in reply to the curtsy your poor tutor had drilled into your bones. 

  “(y/n).”

  “Your highness.”

  “You look to be in good health.”

  “I am, the family doctor and my handmaids have tended to me with so much care since the incident, recovering well is the very least I could do.”

  An awkward pause.

  “You seem to be in good health too, Your Highness.”

  You could’ve kicked yourself when the prince simply nodded and thanked you in return–a flash of something like recognition passing behind his eyes–before they went back to that easy, indifferent facade you supposed was crafted especially for Princess (y/n). ‘which makes sense,’ you mentally deadpan, ‘she was about as close to a crazy yandere psycho as you could get without actually killing anyone.’ 

  Still, those simple pleasantries, taken straight from the pages of volume two of your etiquette lessons, were the only words exchanged in greeting.

  It made even the silvery morning breeze feel stifling.

  Ever the gentleman, the prince pulled out your chair, made sure you were comfortable, and nodded once to your guard. “All is well with the knights of the (l/n) estate, Han?”

  The effort it took to refrain from snapping your head up and giving them both a confused once-over was monumental. It hadn't occurred to you that the crown prince would be familiar with any of your personal guards, though you supposed it made sense. Most of them had, according to Felix, been looking after you since you were only nine or ten, of course they'd be on friendly terms with your fiance.

  “We've been keeping busy, Your Highness,” Han said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. Knowing him, he was probably rocking back and forth on his heels, hands clasped behind his back. 

  “That's good to hear,” the prince nodded, settling into the seat across from you, “I fear the royal knights have grown rather complacent since the relief and revelry that followed the war, it has been a task for General Jeong to whip them back into shape.” 

  “I can imagine,” Han chuckled. “But really, who could blame them, it’s taken us a long time to reach this peace, what good would it be if we didn’t take at least a moment here or there to enjoy it? As it is, I doubt we would have stayed so diligent if it weren’t for Her Grace, (y/n)’s been coming down to the training grounds and asking us to teach her some basic swordsmanship of late.” 

  While Han was probably puffing up his chest and beaming proudly over at the prince, thrilled to share the good news that you were finally taking your swordsmanship and safety more seriously, you were trying to avoid choking on air. 

  There were many things that you didn’t know about Princess (y/n) (l/n)–daughter of an esteemed archmage and revered general–but one of the things that had been emphasised enough in the novel enough for it to stick firmly in your mind was this: she was a frivolous, selfish, bitter disappointment to her bloodline. Squandering the skills she’d inherited from her mother to brew potions that only served her own selfish needs, and refusing to entertain the possibility that she could possibly take after the father she loathed for abandoning her to fight in the war . 

  She would never willingly break a sweat. 

  Especially for the sake of swinging around a big heavy old sword. 

  And it seemed the prince was thinking the same thing, his next words directed at you. “I didn’t know you’d developed an interest in adopting such strenuous hobbies.”

  “I… I suppose almost dying will do that to you.”

  “Indeed…” 

  There was a brief pause, in which the prince looked like he was contemplating the milky way while stirring a cube of sugar into his tea. Setting your nerves on edge as you wondered if now was a good time to bring up wanting to end your engagement, or if you should try and “ease into the subject more naturally” as your tutor had told you with his head in his hands, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of his eyes after witnessing just how “abrupt” your manner of speaking was.  

  You were still turning the words over in your mind when his voice cut through your thoughts, crisp and clipped despite the concern you guessed the inquiry was meant to show. “I was told that you were caught in a storm.” 

  “I was,” you nod with a bit too much enthusiasm, relieved to finally have an excuse to fill the silence. “I was told that I was on my way back from visiting a cousin who happened to be staying in town when a sudden storm hit us and knocked my carriage into a ravine-”

  “You were ‘told’ that you were on your way back from visiting a cousin? That fact doesn’t come from your own memory?”

  You blink, caught off guard by his interruption. ‘Isn’t that rude? Is he allowed to be rude because he’s a prince or because he’s my fiance? But wait he shouldn’t be rude either way? Ah screw it, being mad won’t help my case anyway so…’ 

  “Yes, I believe His Grace mentioned in his letter to the palace that the event and the fever that followed seems to have caused a condition the doctors refer to as temporary amnesia, my memories are only there in bits and pieces.”

  “Is this memory loss permanent?” 

  “No, we suspect I’ll start remembering things  little by little, a few are already coming back to me,” you say, one hand gripping the material of your skirt in an attempt to keep your voice pleasant and calm.

Sure, the prince didn’t like the princess much, but that didn’t mean he had to be a prick about it, he could afford to be nicer when he was asking questions about her literally forgetting her entire identity. If you didn’t know how awful she’d be a few years down the road, you would’ve found him insufferable. 

  “I see…” he said, still slowly stirring his tea.

  “What exactly do you see, Your Highness,” you smile a little tersely, bringing your own cup up to your lips, praying that the lipstick your maids had chosen was transfer-proof. 

  The prince raised an eyebrow at you, apparently picking up on the shift in your tone.  “Nothing… I’m simply intrigued by your sudden change in character, and the rather dramatic event that you claim caused it.” 

  It takes you a moment to process his words, and a moment more for agitation to prickle under your skin. ‘The fudge muffin does he mean claim?? I fell off a hill??? Hannie carried me back??? I was out of my mind for a week???’

  Reminding yourself over and over again that in his mind he was talking to someone who definitely wasn’t you, you press your lips into one of the polite, plastic smiles Sunoo had been practicing with you. “I apologise for not hitting my head on something less dramatic… I’ll be sure to aim for the carriage windows instead of massive tree branches if it would be more convenient for you… Your Highness.” 

  “What would have been more convenient for me, and all parties involved, would be your learning to heed warnings, and refrain from traipsing off into town when you know that the sky bodes ill,” he replied smoothly, ignoring the agitation in your voice. 

  “I’ll do my best to remember that then, Your Highness,” you say through gritted teeth, taking a fortifying sip of your rich floral tea, immediately wondering how the prince could possibly drink something so naturally sweet with even more sugar. 

  Your answer seemed to surprise him, another flash of… something crossing his features before it vanished just as quickly as the one before. 

  “Very well,” he nodded, bringing the sugary concoction he’d like to call tea to his lips, distracting you slightly with the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he drank. 

  ‘Oh he hates my guts but dear mother of cheesy romance he’s definitely this world’s male lead…’ you mused, shaking your head slightly to get yourself back on track. You were annoyed. Very annoyed. And the source of that annoyance was speaking to you again. 

  “I came here today to confirm for myself that you have indeed recovered fully, now that I’ve made sure of that there really is no reason for me to linger longer than necessary,” he said, setting down his cup with such practiced ease that it barely made a sound.

  Alarm buzzed under your skin, causing you set your own cup down with much less grace than intended, a sharp clinking noise ringing through the empty gardens. “I- oh shoot- Your Highness there’s actually something I need to discuss with you before-”

  “If it concerns the steadily growing pile of invitations and inquiries piling up on your writing desk we needn’t bother with any discussion,”  he said, cutting you off without missing a beat, already signalling to the guards–who’d moved away at some point to offer you both more privacy–indicating that he intended to stand and leave. "As long as you stick to the promise you just made to listen to your guards and His Grace, you’re allowed to attend and host as many gatherings as your heart desires, just know that I will not be able to accept any invitations, I am a busy man-”

  “Your Highness,” you all but snapped, lips pursed into a thin line, as if sealing them together would stop the flurry of expletives in your mouth from rolling off your tongue.

  “(y/n),” he said mildly, raising an eyebrow.

  “That is not what I wanted to discuss, but while we’re here, why the hell would I need your permission to attend any kind of gathering?”

  The prince blinked blankly, holding up a hand to signal both his and your guards to wait. “What are you on about (y/n)? You’re my fiance.”

  “Yes, exactly, fiance, and by arrangement, not by choice.”

  “I can’t say I follow your meaning, both these things are well established.”

  You swore your eyes nearly popped out of your skull with the effort it took not to roll them. “If I were your wife, or your partner by choice I would, to a certain degree, understand if you wanted me to give you a heads up before I go out-”

  “A head?...”

  “But I’m not, and at this rate I’m really not sure I want to be, I’m an individual totally separate from you, these are my decisions to make, you have no right to dictate my comings and goings… Your Highness.”

  The Prince went silent, watching you steadily, his calm an aggravating contrast to the tense knot of anger and anxiety lodged in your throat. ‘Oh… oh… I’m so sorry Mr. Park…’ you whisper a silent apology in your head and offer a few prayers for your tutor and the vein in his forehead’s good health.

  “What exactly do you mean by ‘at this rate I’m really not sure I want to be’, Princess.”

  The chill that runs down your spine when he uses your title instead of your name is immediate, your hands going slightly numb in the silken confines of your gloves.

“I mean that… that I don’t want to marry a complete stranger,” you manage, fumbling through whatever you could salvage from the script you and Sunoo had prepared. 

  “Is that what you'd call someone you’ve known since childhood?” he scoffed, the annoyance creasing his brows the most feeling he’d shown in response to you since his arrival. 

  “Well from the way you’ve spoken to me till now I can’t exactly consider you a friend now can I?” you seethe, regretting it almost instantly when his expression twists into something almost like hurt. You’re not sure why he made that face, but in a moment it’s gone, and no matter how it made you feel, you have a goal here. Not. Dying. 

  Which probably meant that pissing off the crown prince wasn’t the best idea. But oh well. 

  “I have no memory of you, Your Highness, as far as my mind is concerned, today is our first meeting… and from what I can see, the boy who’s meant to be my future husband sees me as either an object or a nuisance… I was hoping that meeting you would ease my mind about this whole engagement thing, but I’m sure now. I don’t want this.”

  The prince stared at you for a few moments, expression unreadable, and you guess that–aside from what you hope looks like defience and resolve–you look much the same. 

  When the world finally clicks back into motion, he nods once. “You do know that dissolving this agreement between our families is not something to be taken lightly? While our parents cannot force us into marriage, they will still try to convince us of our obligations.” 

  He looked up then, and something in his expression was different. It was still indifferent and unreadable as it had been, but there was a softness to it that you couldn’t quite place. It was confusing. “I understand, I know it won’t be easy, but this is my wish,” you say, relaxing slightly in your own seat. 

  “If that is what you want… I will speak to my father once things have settled down within the palace… I jest about the knights and their complacency, but the air is less than still, war is a messy business, and cleaning up the aftermath will take some time.”

  “I can wait… till next spring, but you must have asked him by then.”

  “I will,” he nods, “and I’ll write to you once it is done so you may speak with His Grace as well.”

  “Thank you… it’s appreciated…”

  You stay like that for a beat longer, staring at each other from across an intricately laid tea table, each of you wondering what the other must be thinking.

  “If that is all… I shall take my leave,” he says, breaking the odd trance. Standing, waves your guards over, and you take that as your cue to stand and curtsy as well. 

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Highness, the (l/n) family thanks you for your time.” 

  “Likewise,” he says, bowing. 

  Han and two other knights make their way over, wearing slightly troubled expressions, you guess they must’ve heard more than they were meant to. But it doesn’t matter, you think, eventually the news of the broken engagement would be the talk of the town, you shouldn’t be embarrassed about a few knights getting a preview. 

  “Before I go,” the prince says, “you should know that you never needed my permission for anything, (y/n). You may come and go as you please, you are an individual capable of thought and making her own decisions, as you say. However you must understand that to the public eye, you are the future crown princess, and that is not something to be taken lightly. It is my duty to do what I can to protect the royal family’s image, and having my fiance attend tea parties and balls when she is not in her right mind would have been foolish, to say the least.”

  He’s being earnest, you realise. Apologising in his own roundabout way. Maybe. Whatever it is, you choose to take it, knowing that beneath whatever dislike he may hold for the former princess, Park Jongseong was a good person. 

  “I… I’ll remember that in future…” you murmur.

  “Good… and one last thing.”

  “By all means.”

  “I know now that you have no memory of me, but you should know that you’ve never called me by my title.”

  “Oh?” to your memory, the princess had never called him anything but his title, he wouldn’t allow it. “Did I… call you by your given name?” 

  For the first time, he smiles at you, and you curse your heart for the way it flutters in your chest. “No, I don’t expect you to use it if it brings you discomfort, but the nickname you gave me when we were six was ‘Jay’, because you said I resembled a bird by the same name.”

  “A Blue jay?”

  “Yes, my hair was lighter then.”

  That confuses you slightly, his hair is black, as far as you can tell, but you ignore it, choosing to smile politely and nod along. “It must have been a very handsome bird.”

  “It was rather ugly, actually,” he says, walking down the gazebo steps to join his guards. “I bid you farewell, Princess, the royal family thanks you for your time.”

  “Likewise,” you respond, watching him as he goes. Noting with a hint of amusement that his hair shines blue in the now bright morning sun. 

  “What was all that about?” a voice says, and, predictably, Sunoo appears from one of the side paths. 

  “Were you listening the whole time?” 

  “Well I tried, but the fountain was too loud, only caught some yelling.”

  “Some guard you are,” you whine, smacking Han on the arm as he joins the two of you, “did you even realise a sneaky little rat was eavesdropping? 

  “Ow! For your information I did, but I figured there was no point chasing him round the gardens when I knew you’d be inviting that rat to tea anyways.”

  “That is very true,” you sigh, grabbing a plate and settling yourself across from Sunoo–who already had a mint chocolate chip cookie stuffed in his mouth. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  “(y/n)! Forget soap we’re gonna need bleach for that mouth tonight,” Sunoo cries, doubled over in a fit of giggles.

  “I knowwww,” you groan, massaging your temples. “Mr. Park’s gonna kill me.”

  Sunoo shakes his head. “You make the poor guy sound like an old man, you do realise he’s only our senior by about two years, right?”

  “He’s still my tutor! I’m trying to show some respect, as a thank you for how patient he is with my dumb ass.”

  “He deserves a raise,” Han chips in, settled on the marble gazebo rails with a plate of cheesecake in hand. 

  “He doessss,” Sunoo agrees, waving a teaspoon for emphasis.

  “You’re all really mean y’know,” you sigh, slumping over the table and grabbing one of Sunoo’s hands and moving it into the shape of a rabbit.

  “Not as mean as Sunghoon’s about to be when he sees your posture,” Sunoo says. 

  “What do you mea- Oh! Good morning Professor Park!”

[frenchfrywrites]

CODE y69

MINORS DNI

Warnings: amab gn top dom(ish) living human reader, trans man bottom zombie Vil Schoenheit, monster(fucker) au, monsterfucking, medical play, roleplay, breeding kink, lots of drool, vil goes nonverbal, slight dumbification

Words used for Vil: pussy, cunt, tits, hole, clit. Mention of him having a period and getting pregnant

The sound of the door to Vil's bedroom opening softly tears his attention away from his vanity.

"Ah, sorry," he stares through the mirror at his door, where the doctor– he gathers from the white coat and stethoscope– he arranged a house visit with stands awkwardly in the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?" You ask, setting down your bag of medical devices and instruments on Vil’s bed.

"No," he’s quick to answer, capping the tube of lipstick he'd been applying and standing to greet you. Both of you size one another up as Vil sluggishly crosses the room. You’re handsome in the long white lab coat, undoubtedly so, and if he had the blood to do so, Vil thinks he might feel flushed. The mild anxiety he typically finds himself having when he’s among the living settles in, and he feels the urge to preen and reapply his makeup.  

The two of you exchange introductions, and Vil notes that your hand feels so nice and warm when it shakes his, before you ask him to make himself comfortable on his bed. Vil sits himself down as gracefully as possible as you open your bag “I almost thought I had the wrong patient,” you offer him a bashful smile, applying hand sanitizer to your hands, then tugging on some gloves. “You looked so alive,” and your admission earns you a soft laugh from Vil. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles quietly. After his untimely demise Vil's tried his best to cover his dead skin, the chunks of missing flesh, and his vacant eyes. He appreciates his efforts being recognized. 

“Alright, let’s just jump right in, yeah?!” you give him a wide smile, “can you tell me your first and last name? And your date of birth?” Vil tells you the information easily. “And when did you become undead?”

“A couple of months ago,” he hopes you don’t pry much more than that. It’s not something he likes to dwell on.

“Great! Do you remember the last physical you had when you were alive?” you ask carefully, rummaging around in your bag.

Vil doesn’t remember much from before his death. He has people he knows- or knew- tell him things about himself, but most of what they tell him feels blurry and out of reach.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you say when he hasn’t responded in a while. He hums- and it sounds a bit too close to the sluggish groan he’s heard from older zombies for his liking- and anxiously flattens the wrinkles on his skirt. 

“This will be a bit different from an exam that an alive person might experience, but that’s why you called me in the first place,” you ramble as you put on a pair of gloves. 

“I’m going to skip over taking your blood pressure and checking your heart, for obvious reasons,” you tell him, standing next to where he’s seated. Suddenly, you press yourself into Vil’s personal space, 

“Can I touch you Mr. Schoenheit?” and logically Vil knows his heart has stopped beating for a long time, but he feels like it flutters in his chest all the same.

“Yes,” he consents, trying his best to not sound breathless. You take his head in your hands, feeling around his skull. 

“You have lovely hair Mr. Schoenheit,” it’s an offhand comment, but it makes Vil feel like he’s on cloud nine. 

“Thank you,” he practically whispers as you gently touch the back of his neck. 

“Good,” you step back and Vil tries not to follow your touch, “looking great! I’m going to ask you to make some facial expressions with me now, so I can see how your muscles are working.”

Vil nods, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Could you frown for me?” he does as he’s told, “then smile? Then puff your cheeks?” distantly, Vil remembers that people have told him he was in movies when he was alive; a memory of acting exercises comes back to him faintly as he moves his face through various expressions.

“Hm, I can see that the muscles on the right side of your face are still quite stiff,” Vil’s face falls at the news, “hey, it’s alright!” you caress his right cheek gently, massaging the muscle by his jaw gently. Even though your hand is gloved, Vil can still feel the heat radiating off your flesh all the same. He feels hungry. “Anyone who is not specifically looking for it would not notice, I promise,” you reassure. “Now can you open your mouth for me?” 

Vil drops his jaw and it cracks a bit, leaving his mouth open just a bit wider than a living being would be capable of. That’s not true, he corrects himself, knowing that the naga can open their mouths nearly twice as more as he can. 

“Oh Mr. Schoenheit what lovely teeth you have!” you joke, and despite himself, Vil laughs. “Seriously, you have a full set! Many of my clients would dream of having your mouth,” you muse, running your fingers along his teeth. The urge to wrap his lips around your fingers and suck is overwhelming, but somehow Vil finds it in himself to resist it. He thinks you must be a little stupid, even if you are a doctor, for putting your fingers in a flesh-eaters mouth. Slipping your fingers from his mouth you reach into your bag and grab a wooden depressor. 

With your free hand you grab a small flashlight from your breast pocket, and press the wooden stick against his tongue. 

“Say ahhh,” you instruct. The noise that comes out of Vil is closer to that of a moan, but you don’t comment on that. You press the depressor further back and he gags. With a look of surprise you pull away from him, removing the depressor from his mouth as you do. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” you ask curiously. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. 

“It wasn’t so bad,” he confesses. Your eyes widen just a fraction, but Vil takes note of it. Turning back to your bag you take out an otoscope, “We’re going to check your eyes and ears next, you haven’t noticed any vision or hearing loss, have you?” Vil shakes his head, thankful that so much of his body continues to function.

“Can you look at…” you trail off, glancing behind you at his wall, “the calendar back there for me?” He looks at it as you flash the light into his eyes. “Ah, are you wearing contacts?” you ask after a moment. Vil hesitates to answer, but eventually nods, “I’m sorry Mr. Schoenheit, but I need you to take those out.”

With a sigh Vil makes quick work of removing the colored contacts- or as quick as he can be with the body he inhabits now. Trying his best not to pout he lets you take a good look at his glossed over, foggy eyes. 

“You’ve got very pretty eyes Mr. Schoenheit,” you say as you pull away, “pretty and they're doing everything that eyes should be doing!” Vil huffs, 

“Flattery will get you everywhere doctor.” You manuver Vil's head so you can look into his ear, brushing his hair back to get a better look and further exposing his expression. 

“I’m already alone in your room with you Mr. Schoenheit,” you whisper, moving to look at the other ear, “how much more will flattery get me?” you muse. Vil is so glad his body can no longer blush, because he thinks he’d be as red as a tomato if he were living. 

“Ah,” he goes to say something but before he can come up with anything, you’re moving onto the next thing. Feeling a little dumbstruck he watches you take off the stethoscope around your neck, and put it on. 

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs now, is that alright?” Vil nods, so you continue. “Would you please lift your shirt a bit?” With slightly shaking hands (the excitement of having you so close is having an apparent effect on him) he lifts his blouse for you. Sliding your hand under the fabric, you press the cold metal to his chest, and Vil gasps. 

“Sorry,” you whisper in his ear, not sounding very apologetic. “Can you take a deep breath for me?” Vil does his best, trying to sound relaxed and calm, even when he feels the opposite. “Sounds good!” and within a blink of an eye you’re gone. 

After stuffing away your stethoscope you turn to Vil, “right, so next we’re going to- oh,” you stop mid sentence, staring at his chest. Vil looks down, trying to see what you could be looking at, only to find that his nipples are hard. Shame washes over him, and he tries his best to cover himself, but you stop him, sitting next to him on the bed.

“It’s okay! I’m sorry I had such an unprofessional reaction, it’s just I don’t see that often with my patients,” you rub his shoulder comfortingly and Vil slowly drops his arms. 

“Can I take a look?” You ask after a moment. Vil tucks his hair behind his ear, nodding slowly. Your hand falls from Vil’s shoulder to the hem of his shirt. As you tug it upwards you expose more of his skin. 

There are small patches of decay, some skin that’s been stitched back together, and on his left side some of his ribs are exposed. With your other hand you thumb over one of his nipples, and Vil lets out a soft gasp. He feels so good having you touch him that any insecurity he’d normally have about the rotting, peeling flesh previously covered by his shirt is flung out the window.

“Did that hurt?” and Vil feels tingly all over at the quiet rumbling sound of your voice.

“No doctor,” he breathes, his breath hitching when you rub your thumb over it again. 

“Feels good, Mr. Schoenheit?” you check, not giving Vil any relief as you continue to rub circles around his nipple.  

Not trusting his voice, Vil nods, blinking slowly as waves of pleasure work their way through his body. 

And as quickly as it started, it’s over. You pull back, and much to Vil’s humiliation, he can’t help but lean forward and try to chase your touch. 

“Ah,” he makes a soft noise as his brain catches up. Part of him wishes to beg for more, but his pride stops him.

“Are you having other reactions, Mr. Schoenheit?” you ask softly. Vil rubs his legs together as he focuses,

“Yes doctor,” he answers honestly. Your smile widens at that,

“Amazing,” you praise, “can I see?” Vil lets out a low groan at that. Instead of using his words, Vil takes the hem of his skirt, and lifts it so you can see his soaked panties. Vil can’t help but grin when your warm touch returns to his chilled body as you gently run your fingers from his clit to his hole. 

“Such a responsive, functional body,” you hum in his ear, and Vil clumsily jerks his hips into your touch, clutching desperately at his skirt. 

“May I take a closer look Mr. Schoenheit?” 

“Yes please, doctor,” Vil moans, his words slurring together. You slide off the bed, and between Vil’s decayed thighs. Your hands tug at the top of his panties, and with some combined effort, the two of you manage to take them off him. 

“Oh look at you,” you coo, using two gloved fingers to peel apart his pussy lips. The heat from your body, even with a layer of gloves between the two of you, feels scalding against his frigid skin. It makes him want to melt into you. He clutches tightly at the fabric of his skirt, putting all his energy there so he doesn’t reach out to touch you. 

"Ah," Vil gasps softly when your finger begins to slowly rub circles onto his clit. 

“I bet that feels good, doesn’t it,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to care, and instead nods dumbly. Looking up at him, you take note of how Vil’s eyes go in and out of focus as he watches you play with his cunt.

It takes a while for him to notice, but Vil eventually sees the hard to ignore tent in your pants. Within the moment that he notices your hard-on, you slip a finger inside of him, and he jerks violently, letting out a long, guttural moan. 

“I want to see if the muscles here are working correctly,” you explain, though you doubt he’s even listening to you.

Vil opens up nicely around your fingers, producing more than enough slick to accommodate the intrusions. His clit took a while to get erect, but it now stands proudly, twitching and aching for attention. While fucking him slowly with two fingers, you use your thumb to play with it. This draws a groan from out of Vil. You doubt he’d appreciate being told so, but it’s the kind of groan that’s classic of his zombie kind. 

“Unnngh,” he moans, “g’nna uhmm,” and there’s just enough consonants and vowels for you to put together what he’s trying to say. You pull back, refusing him of the orgasm that was so steadily approaching. 

“Wuh?” he blinks slowly, and you watch as his pussy attempts to clench around nothing. “Huh, please,” Vil groans breathlessly when he finally processes that you’re no longer touching him. 

“It looks like your ability to self lubricate is working perfectly. I wonder though, Mr. Schoenheit, do you still get your period?” you ask, removing your white coat and gloves.

“No, doctor,” Vil replies after a moment, entranced with watching you undress. 

“Then I suppose the only way we’d be able to tell if you’re able to get pregnant or not is by having me fuck your womb full of cum,” Vil nods along, though he questions your logic. He’ll agree with whatever you say if it means you’ll fuck him. 

You reach into your bag, and after a moment of rustling around, pull out a vial of lube.

Laying back, he spreads his legs wider, making room for you to join him on the bed. He makes a pretty picture, with his skirt bunched around his hips, and his shirt pulled up to show off his tits. You tell him as much,

“You look so good,” you praise, and Vil preens, smiling and spreading his legs wider. You make yourself comfortable between his thighs, massaging his stiff muscles gently. Fumbling a bit, you open the lube, and lather your cock. Vil doesn’t mind the slight lull in action, instead focusing his energy on reaching up and linking his arms around your neck to pull you close. 

He moans when he feels the tip of your cock press against his hole. Vil feels like he’s never been more alive as he feels your tip press into him. He knocks his head back against his pillow, arching his back as you slowly push yourself into him. 

“There we go,” you coo, rubbing his hips and thighs lovingly when you’re balls deep inside of him. “How’re you feeling Mr. Schoenheit? Any pain? Any discomfort?” you check in, because Vil looks fucked dumb already. 

“Guh-” he groans, then mumbles to himself. You wait patiently, and finally he forms a coherent sentence, “good, you feel- good,” he whines, his mascaraed lashes squeezing shut. His words divulge into mumbles and groans as he tries to tell you about how deep your cock is inside of him, and how hot you feel.

Slowly, you start to move your hips, fucking him nice and deep to make sure he’s properly adjusted to the intrusion before you take it up a notch. Vil practically melts into the bed beneath him, weakly holding onto you, his pussy clenching and twitching around you every so often. 

“You feel so good,” you tell him softly, “ah, so tight,” you groan. Vil keens, and then instead of using his words- which he seems to have lost already- he tries his best to work his hips back against yours. You let out a breathless laugh, “faster already?” and Vil nods, letting out a pathetic whine.

“I’ve got you darling,” you coo, easily picking up the pace. He lets out a pleased moan, settling back down and returning to laying like a corpse under you. 

“Just- ah- lay back and let me fuck you baby, you don’t ngh have to think at all, let me do all the work, sweet thing,” he nods dumbly at your instructions. 

“Shit,” you breathe, fucking him so hard that his tits bounce with each thrust. Your hand fumbles around for a second before coming in contact with Vil’s clit. When you begin to rub at it as you fuck him, Vil cries out, his mouth falling open with a loud click, and his clouded eyes rolling into his skull. He clenches like a vice around you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he may have cum.

Drool begins to pool from his mouth as you play with his clit, and he lets out weak groans when you thrust him particularly hard or deep. 

“I’m close,” you strain, because god you think you could get off just from looking at him, and the way he’s fluttering and clenching around you only gets you closer and closer to climax. Vil babbles something incomprehensible, drool continuing to fall from his mouth, puddling on the pillow and sheets beneath him, and thoroughly slicking his chin. 

One of his hands falls from where it’s been wrapped around your neck, and rubs at his belly. Your hips stutter as you catch his drift, 

“Fuck, yeah, ‘m gonna cum inside you Vil, gonna get you pregnant, gonna fill your womb, ungh, you want that?” he nods, his clit twitching under your fingers. 

“Cum with me- Vil- c’mon baby,” you feel like you’re teetering on a cliff edge, just moments away from coming face to face with your orgasm. 

He falls first, his groan of your name getting stifled as he slaps an arm over his mouth, squirting on your cock as you fuck him through it. You cum not long after, keeping your promise and snapping your hips flush against his as you pump him full of your cum. 

You stay seated inside Vil until he weakly pinches your skin with his other hand, a nonverbal cue that your fingers on his clit and your cock inside him are making him sore with overstimulation. Pulling out you take a second to watch your cum ooze out of his pussy. If he hadn’t communicated that he was sore, you wouldn’t hesitate to get your head between his thighs and clean him up with your mouth. 

Instead you flop down next to him, and take his cold body into your warm embrace. Vil removes his arm from covering his messy mouth, and snaps his jaw back into place. His eyes go unfocused as he looks at you next to him, and moving on instinct, he goes for your neck. His teeth just barely graze your skin before he realizes what he’s doing and resists the urge to devour you. Instead, Vil kisses your neck as an apology before pulling back.

Now that there's a bit of space between the two of you, you can get a good look at him. Vil looks properly fucked, his lipstick smudged, his mouth slick and sticky with drool, his mascara running slightly, his hair all out of place.

You can’t help but lean in and give him a loving kiss. Vil kisses back weakly, humming a tad mournfully against your lips. You think he’s probably still upset about nearly letting his monstrous inclinations take over. Through the kiss you try to convey that you trust him and love him. When you pull back there's a comfortable silence between the two of you for a brief second.

“Next time, I want to be the doctor,” Vil finally speaks, his voice rough and fried. You laugh, nuzzling into him, and pulling the comforter over the two of you. 

“Ooh I like that, can you be all fascinated and awed with my living body?” you prompt, causing Vil to crack a smile. 

“I think I could, at the very least, act like I would be “fascinated and awed”” he mimics you playfully. You laugh loudly, kissing him between giggles. 

“Whatever you say, Dr. Shoenheit,” you tease, kissing him again before he can get the last word in.

[wrathofrats]

Day 11: marking/ breath play

Prompts by @kroas-adtam

Swiss and dew have to be weird about the face paint bc its fucking swiss and dew

“Honestly I wished they’d just give me a balaclava at this point” Swiss sighed as he looked up meeting dews gaze.

It was always hard for dew to not stare at Swiss while he put his face paint on. The black paint covered the tips of his fingers as he smeared it onto his face and mouth. Swiss claimed it was faster than using a sponge, and less wasteful. Always mumbling something about not being bothered to actually do it properly, it was going to smear anyways.

“Harder to breathe though, and you can’t sing. Think I rather have the paint”

Swiss squirted another thick glob of paint into his hands, rubbing it around before wiping on the other cheek. He took special care to get it into his stubble, tried to get as even of a coat as he could, even if it would be faded and streaky within the hour. His fingers left marks on his face as he worked, lines and texture coming through once it started to get tacky.

“Eh, you could just put a hole in the fabric”

The entirety of his hands were covered in the stuff now, The rough calluses and veins sharply outlined. Swiss’ hands were so big, especially compared to dew, long thick fingers completely stained an inky black, faded to grey around his wrists. He doesn’t even know how Swiss could get that messy in the time they had. He doesn’t think he cares anyways.

“Wouldn’t that look stupid?”

Swiss just shrugs.

“Do I look ok?” He smiles

“Same as you always do”

Swiss leans on his elbow to stand up and push his chair back. He raises his hands in the air to attempt to not get the paint anywhere else. The venue's vanity still winds up getting black streaks on it, but they’ll clean it up later.

“Can you help me wash this off?” Swiss asks

Dew looks at him confused, Swiss usually does it himself. A quick run to the bathroom and he’s usually out in 5 minutes to start grabbing things from the crew. They don’t have much time anyways, about 15 minutes to call, nothing about the plan makes sense.

It was hard to get used to the chaos. Swiss always making up convoluted plans that end up with someone in trouble, or hurt, and on the off chance everything went right it usually still wasn’t a good idea in the first place. He doesn’t know he says yes, but he does anyways.

“Do you just use soap or-“ dews statement is cut off as Swiss quickly pulls him into a bathroom, slamming the door and clicking the lock in one swift motion before backing dew up against the wall.

“We don’t have fucking time for this swiss” dew tries to push against his chest and slip past him with a sigh. He knows these plans don’t end well for him, especially not when he has to be on stage in 13 minutes.

“Saw the way you were staring at me droplet” he gives Dew a crooked smile, white teeth contrasting sharply against the black paint. “Know you love the way my hands look like this”

“Shut up, can you just be weird later?”

“Cmon, you said you rather have the paint right?”

Dew rolls his eyes “you know what I meant, move”

Swiss wraps his hand around the back of dews head, thumbing at his lips, “hold still, gonna make you real fucking pretty”

Dew stops moving and watches Swiss intently, he smears the still wet paint on his hands onto dews lips and cheek where he holds him, the bitter chemical taste invading his taste buds. His cock kicks in his pants as Swiss’ thumb runs down his chin, hand wrapping around his throat.

“Just want to mark you as mine sweetheart, said you wanted this didn’t you?”

Dew hates the way Swiss smirks at him. He hates his confidence. He hates that he’s completely right. His senses are filled with the plasticy smell of the face paint and Swiss’ cologne as Swiss’ grip starts to get tighter, a warning, waiting for dew to tell him no.

He doesn’t.

The heel of his hand digs into his throat, cutting off his air supply. Dew closes his eyes and leans his head back against the cool concrete wall as his brain goes fuzzy at the edges, waiting for Swiss to let up.

Swiss releases the pressure around dews neck, “alright droplet?”

Dew nods, meekly whispering “again”

“Thought you said you didn’t want it” Swiss mocks, complying easily as dew lets out a short whine before Swiss’s hand tightens again. “That’s ok, know you like be to marked as mine. Gonna keep this on all night?”

Dew nods once again, letting himself completely embrace the feeling, now fully hard in his pants.

“Let anyone who sees you with paint around your throat know what I did to you, wonder if theyll know how much you wanted it”

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [16]

chapter sixteen, act two: anobrain

masterlist

December 8th 2013

It was exactly as he said, he took her to see a band of his friends on the smaller stage in the afternoon, then they went to a fancy restaurant, had a fancy meal and he walked her back.

She invited him up, he said no, but promised to see her the next day.

She smiles watching him leave down the corridor, she doesn’t notice Matty leaning against his doorframe.

“No shag?”

She closes her eyes briefly with a sigh, before turning around to him, “No, Matty, no shag.” She says, turning and knocking on the door.

“Afraid he won’t beat the first time?”

She pauses, hand stilling above the door and she glances over at him. He seems to realise what he’d said at the same time as her and he stands a little straighter, “Sorry, I… I don’t know where that came from.”

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

She sighs, “What are you doing, Matty? Why are you here right now?”

He clears his throat and kicks his door open a little wider, “I knew you didn’t have a key, Ross went back to some girls hotel. He’s not in there.”

She sighs with a nod, “Uh, which rooms Ad’s?”

“Adam, George, John and Zishaun had to stay in the hotel across the street, remember? Rooms were double booked.”

“Who are you bunking with?” She asks, arms wrapped around herself.

“Last night Jamie but his missus came out here to surprise him so they’re across the way too.”

“So… no one?”

Again he shows the kicked open door and she sighs, “Will you walk me across? Please?”

He looks down at himself, he’s got no shirt on and has some old joggers with holes in questionable places, then he lifts an imaginary watch to his face, “It’s three in the morning.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Matt-”

“Just, get in.” He says holding it open, “I have a bed and some clothes.”

She waits for a few seconds in the hallway, then sighs and steps inside despite her better judgement.

Matty watches her as she kicks her shoes off, lining them up neatly against one wall as his lay kicked on top of each other just beside them.

He watches her hand flex as she pauses looking at them, desperate to fix them and line them up beside her own. A task she would usually just complete without much thought.

Instead she lets her fidgeting hand fall to the bag on her shoulder and only glances back at the shoes twice. The first as she places the little black leather bag onto the table where Matty’s tote bag resides and then again as she moves to the mirror to untie her hair from the half up half down braid style she’d made George do for her that morning.

When she turns around again Matty is lying against the headboard, phone in hand and there’s a t-shirt and boxers on the end of the bed.

The t-shirt is again, one of hers, an old Fiona Apple t-shirt from when she played in London back in 2006.

She doesn’t comment on it this time, she closes the bathroom door until it clicks, takes off the long sundress she’s wearing and changes into the clothes.

Her neatly folded clothes are placed on the floor beside his closed suitcase and as she stands she risks a glance at his shoes.

She pauses slightly, feeling his eyes on the back of her head she acts as if she was just tying her hair up. Acting as if it wasn’t the fact that his shoes are now lined up against the wall beside her own that momentarily froze her.

As she messes about with her hair, trying to tame it into her bobble her eyes glance across the vanity before her.

Cigarettes, lighters, his wallet, some loose change and a CD with the receipt on top lay scattered around. But what catches her eye is the book.

‘Show me yours, Tommie McDuff’

She lets her finger trace the cover, a picture of herself that Matty had taken one day when the band had performed in Brighton.

She flicks at a few of the post bits and book tabs sticking out the side, one on almost every page.

She pushes her finger open to the page where a piece of paper sticks out the top but as she hears the sheets rustling as Matty moves in the bed she pauses and steps back.

Once her curly hair is tied back she lies on the bed with her back to him, reaching to flick off the lamp beside her.

Matty’s lamp is still on, and remains on for almost ten minutes as he sits up in the bed staring at the wall in front of him.

“Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you uh,” He pauses as he shifts down, still laying on top of the covers, “Have a nice night? Nice date?”

Her jaw wiggles as she thinks over his question, “I did.”

“Good. Callum-”

“Caleb.”

“I know me and the guys are giving him shit, but, he seems… alright.”

“He is alright.” She tells him quietly.

Matty turns over so he’s lying on his side, he reaches out and tugs on one of her curly strands of hair, “You gonna go on another date?”

“I’m not sure, he gave me his number last time. So, maybe I’ll text him.”

Matty nods and as he does he shifts a little closer to her, away from the edge of the bed, “You should.”

She chews on her bottom lip, eyes falling closed as he moves to play with more strands, her hand grips her pillow, anchoring herself down so she won’t turn around.

She wants to turn and scream at him. Tell him it could be him she’s going on dates with, him who’s making her happy, him that she calls ‘alright’ when friends ask, whereas in reality he’s fucking amazing and she’s playing it down so the smile won’t ache her cheeks.

But Matty doesn’t want that.

It’s toxic really, how hurt she feels from his words and actions yet she wouldn't even consider doing anything of the kind that might mean he’s not in her life.

The logical part of her is telling her to leave, go across the road to the other hotel. Leave behind her friendship with him to fully move on, to recover, to heal.

They were never together but she knows this is what heartbreak feels like. Her first broken heart given to her by none other than her best friend, Matthew Healy.

She'd rather lie here now and suffer than not be able to see him every day. Not be able to watch him perform. Not have him.

“Goodnight, Roddy.”

Matty eyes practically become hearts as he stares at her back, he lets go of her hair, back of his hand brushing down her shoulder.

His eyes water as he stares at the back of her head.

‘You’ll ruin her.’

“Goodnight, Baby.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

December 9th 2013

Matty woke up to an empty bed, the little fancy notepad and pen that the hotel had on the bedside table was on her pillow and he picked it up to read it.

‘I called Ross to come open up for me, got that second date after all. Thank you, see you later -Tommie x’

He sighs, thumb running over the ink and it smudges, it’s fresh.

For some reason he finds himself standing quickly, stumbling over himself as he gets up on barely awake legs.

It's then he hears voices outside, no, her voice.

He rips the door open and steps out almost bumping into someone, “Sorry, mate.”

He steps back quickly, hitting into the closed door behind him and shakes his head to try and wake himself up.

Tommie’s brows furrow, “You alright, Matty?”

He nods quickly and gestures to her hotel room door behind her, “Ross still in there?”

She nods and he does too, still standing there awkwardly. She smiles at him a little timidly then turns to Caleb, “Uh, the Ubers downstairs can you go on down? I’ll sort him out then meet you down there.”

He smiles and leans into place a quick kiss on her cheek, one that has her cheeks reddening and head bowing down.

Her hair is straightened today, Matty notes, she must’ve just done it quickly, he can still see one strand trying to curl since she’d obviously rushed.

She turns back to him and tilts her head to her shoulder, “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, last night I gave Ross my- wallet. Yeah, Ross has my wallet, and I wanted to go to that cafe next door. Get a drink and that.”

She steps forward, hand on his arm, “Are you sure, Matt? I’ve been so worried about you lately, I mean, you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

She rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean? What’s wrong?”

Her touch is too much, the soft skin of her fingertips, roughened by years of guitar, burns his arm and he steps back, moving his arm to run a hand through his hair.

“We’re okay?”

Her brows furrow and she nods, her lips tug upwards, it takes every single cell in her body to make the smile look real. “We’re okay.”

But the effort is worth it when she watches his shoulders drop in relief. She turns away, he calls after her.

“Yeah?”

“I am sorry, I want you to know that.”

She nods, “I know… I’ll meet you guys there later, alright?”

“See you later.”

She starts walking down the hallway slowly and he quickly calls after her, “Tommie?”

She turns as she presses the button for the lift and steps back to see him better, “Yeah?”

“He’s a good guy, but still, be careful, yeah?”

She lets her lips curl and nods before stepping into the metal box and letting it take her downstairs.

Matty groans loudly, muttering different ways to call himself idiot under his breath as he runs his hands down his face.

He turns back to open his hotel room door but ends up walking right into it with the realisation he never grabbed his key card.

“Shit.”

Turning to the door opposite he hits his first against it, “Ross?”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

“Hey.”

Caleb catches her hand as she goes to walk the few steps up to the hotel, she turns, skirt moving with her movement, “You guys were… outstanding today.”

“Outstanding?”

She walks backwards and he nods from a few steps below moving in time with her, her right foot his left foot, her left his right.

“Amazing.” The hand still in his hold is raised and his lips place a delicate kiss upon her skin. “Phenomenal.”

“Tell me more.”

He follows her through the hotel, muttering compliments which he finishes with a kiss on different parts of her body.

Astonishing. Her shoulder.

Stunning. Her cheek.

Breathtaking. Her jaw.

He finishes by muttering his praises of her and her dress, his lips on hers as he walks her out of the open doors and down the hallway towards her room.

He has her up against the door, hand not moving from their place that he’s settled them comfortably on her hips.

“Ross is at that girl's place again.”

She moves so her hand can get into the pocket of her skirt- something that when she had discovered that morning on their date she had gushed about for at least two hours, later showing the rest of the guys when she got to them and any random passer buyer who would listen- then she presents her key card and slides it back until she here's the door click.

He takes it upon himself to push it open, using one strong arm to sweep her up against him as she moves her to the bed furthest from the door.

He could tell that's the one she's using from how much more put together than the other it is.

Clothes are scattered before the door is even closed and he's on top of her, pulling back once to hear her approval before continuing.

It's fast.

It feels like it lasts three minutes with him on top of her, his head buried in her neck as he tells her how good she feels.

She lays there, legs around his waist, hands in his hair but face stoic as she stares at the ceiling.

She compares everything to Matty.

His touch, his lips, his words, the pace, the feel. Everything.

She closes her eyes, letting her mind wonder, thinking of that night in LA until he’s pulling back to look at her, “Did you finish already?”

She bites her lip and nods, faking being out of breath as her lashes flutter, “Yeah… yeah, Ma- Yeah.”

“Did you just almost call me mate?” He chuckles.

She licks her lips and nods quickly, brows raised as he laughs and pulls her closer.

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart

@indierockgirrl

@sofaritsalrightt

@julezs-bl0g

@eaglestar31

@sophinthealpss

@if-my-heart-bleeds

@befrwime

-let me know if you want to be added :)

-I'm going to be taking a bit of a break from posting to focus on writing the next couple of parts, plus I'm going on holiday and need to sort a few personal things out

-thank you for reading, Mac :)

[afterthefeast]

ep 3 rewatch

it’s been done to death but the fact that goodsir is the one who prevents silna from getting the charms she needed is so juicy. man despite your best intentions your hands are bloody from the start eh?

also hartnell & silna is a really good interaction because like, he’s really quite kind and respectful, be puts some supper in and gives condolences for her father but it doesn’t ultimately matter. i think it’s an example of how no matter how good their intentions are or how kind they may be the crew cannot do the right thing because they just have this insurmountable epistemological barrier by virtue of having been raised to buy into empire.

now that i’ve remembered who he is it’s possible de voeux is my most hated character in this show

also throwing silna’s father down the ice hole just. so cartoonishly evil.

obsessed with how consistently miserable meals on the erebus are shown to be. obviously this one is sad for good reason because gore isn’t there but it does paint a picture of a truly soul-sucking working environment. just deeply awkward for everybody involved.

also interesting to read the body language in franklin’s flashback to his officers chatting back in london. fitzjames is halfway out of the circle but leaning in pretty much how someone slightly left out of the school friendgroup would act (foreshadowing that he’s out of his depth and overcompensates socially?) and gore is the centre of attention (tallies with the impression that gore was pretty universally popular and does suggest to me that his early death really sent things downhill on erebus morale wise).

honestly jane franklin is so interesting to me. love that she’s a bit of a lady macbeth in some ways despite next episode pointing out that she also thinks her husband is a bit of an idiot.

mandatory religious service sir john u fucking square

the fact that franklin refuses crozier’s rescue plan right after we’re shown he had no rescue plan in the first place — motivated primarily by vanity. “i will not lose another man” is not his motivation surely. hilarious that he accuses crozier of vanity because of this as well. something deeply paternalistic about the whole speech too - franklin saying he takes some (but not all!) responsibility for crozier’s shortcomings as a captain. something about how everything crozier is is because of sir john, who is retroactively taking credit for moulding his whole personality, except for his flaws which are inherent to crozier, indelible failures. ALSO actually this is completely the imperial mindset like straight up. british imperial policy in africa (in contrast to french) focused very much on like, emphasising difference between indigenous people and the british administration. they would educate “able” colonised people in the british system but they would never be british (the french response, also evil, was just to say that everyone was now french what a gift). like, the attitude of, we will make you, as much as we can, a good imperial citizen, all of your achievements will be because we gave you that opportunity, but also you will never truly be one of us because you will always be Other and therefore wrong. very franklin & crozier in that scene.

the irony of course is that, the above said, in a limited sense franklin isn’t wrong — crozier’s tendency to isolate himself is actively detrimental.

also fitzjames’ obvious eavesdropping is really funny especially considering that it was not necessary. dundy was also listening in but managed to get away but fj just sort of freezes? very secondary mean girl behaviour of him

ok interesting that blanky & crozier assume little would refuse to disobey sir john and send off the search parties. also “there’s a spare captain on erebus”, fun thirty second foreshadowing. but also good example of how crozier is like…idk his self-sacrifical tendencies are obviously ultimately completely thwarted, and also not at all the best for his ship

DIGGLE WAS THE COOK??? ok craaaazy that he ended up in cannibalism kitchen then

IRVING WATERCOLOUR SPEECH. best moment of this whole fucking show. again really interesting that hickey has initially really misread the situation and it is worse than he thought it was BUT it’s also so funny how much he is clearly enjoying playing the repentant sinner. kind of into it methinks. also “you’re in the world’s best place for it” [“repairing” yourself] and “god sees you, mr hickey. here, more than anywhere” OKAYY.

DIVORCE!!!!! <3333

“to think you were such a good wife to me, all this months” hmmmmm

RAT SPEECH okay putting a pin in this speech because i am too tired to fully go through it but there’s a lot there about like. idk general human/animal stuff, also “rats devouring each other to make more rats” kind of a thesis statement maybe?

“just ask jopson” classic messy bitch jopson

“he sees something in me” / “he doesn’t see you at all” — “a man like me will do anything to be seen” / “that is not how i see you” yet another parallel between hickey & billy and crozier & fitzjames. which could mean anything

“educate this creature as to the dominion of the empire and the will of the lord behind it” well.

honestly goodsir trying to figure out how to arrange the leg will always be famous

little & dundy honestly looking straight up suicidal about fitzjames’ excessive grief. yet another erebus awkward workplace moment.

[sarahblueskyyyy]

Fire

Minor DNI! Dewdrop x Ghoulette! Reader, toxic, manipulative, panic attack, fight sex, vaginal sex, breeding, cruelty, porn with plot, blood and injury, Dewdrop is being an a-hole, burnplay, etc.

Fire is destructive. When it meets each other, it either grows stronger, engulfing the world around them, or—it quells and extinguishes its own existence; fights to dominate and die until there is nothing left. Yet, both you and him—find comfort in fire. [“Shame. Had you begged, I’d have let you go."]

Fire is destructive.

When it meets each other, it either grows stronger, engulfing the world around them, or—it quells and extinguishes its own existence; fights to dominate and die until there is nothing left.

Sometimes it works both ways.

Sometimes it clashes, gnawing at the opposite’s core, in attempt to burn it down. The other times, it stands alone. In forlorn, its flame flickers, turns to millions of embers, before shattered completely and dissolve with the sky.

Sometimes—it’s just like that. A daily occurrence, an unfazed phenomenon.

Your snarl dragged out from the base of your throat. Your eyes—just like his, glint in intimidation. Too prideful to back down—a vanity determination to take down the other side; even when you know full well there is no worthy conclusion to be taken in the end.

“Fuck off,” Dewdrop hisses. “Stop bitchin’ for one day.”

You scoff. Hand still wiping on your guitar—using unnecessary amount of pressure through the piece of cloth. “You messed up. Be for fuckin’ real.”

Cirrus and Cumulus are trading looks. Then, Aurora’s violet orbs turn to Swiss. The Multi-Ghoul shrugs—a sign to let whatever happens unfurls by itself. Only interfere when it’s needed.

Dewdrop doesn’t lose his venom. Despite the calm tone, his gruff voice echoed, piercing the right place, “Of course it’s me. It’s hard to see where the mistake comes from when you are one.”  

You freeze—fingers stop moving. The piece of damp cloth, imbued with cleaning liquid, stays on top of the guitar.

“Dew,” Rain is warning him, softly.

“Mia caro, that’s not nice.” Copia then swifts his glance to you. “You too, dear. It’s just a slight miscoordination. No need to engage in distasteful argument.”

“What, why?” Dewdrop pulls one corner of his lips. His voice injected with faux innocence. “She should always remember who she is. A failure, unwanted being, accidentally summoned from the pit—”

“Okay, spitfire.” Swiss reaches for him, wrap his arm around his shoulder. He’s trying to direct the red-eyed ghoul’s attention by ruffling his platinum hair. Tenderly, playfully. Refuse to be pulled into the heated atmosphere. “Let’s pack up. We need to go back to the hotel anyway.”

However—a fire is unyielding. It will not stop until it strikes to every side possible. “You cryin’?”

You blink. You can feel your visual blurred and there is a pang prickling in your chest, quickly spreading to the end of your fingertips. However, you just take a deep breath, put your guitar back to its case, and walk away—let yourself be the first one who arrives at the bus.

Cardinal Copia pinches the bridge of his nose.

.

.

.

.

.

“You are not a mistake,” Cumulus says gently. She let your head slumps to her chest comfortably. She uses both hands to give you a back rub in vertical motion, while your biceps rest on the sides of her body. “You know that, right?”

“Mh-hmnn.” An incoherent mumble. You need some moment before uttering the words that have been lingering in your head; even before the Fire said it himself, “He’s not wrong, though. It’s not supposed to be me—you’re not supposed to have two fire wielders in one pack.”

She sighs, kissing the top of your head. You find an unbelievable amount of warmth through the simple gesture. “Sweetheart—there is no rules in things like these. You bond well with the others—it means you belong here.”

With the others, except …, you let the words hang at the end of your tongue. Prisoned by your own voice box.

“Cumulus,” you call for her.

The Air Ghoul bats her eyelashes, waiting for your answer.

“I love you—you are the best.”

She laughs. “Bet you use those lines with everyone, you flirt.”

A grin flashes across your face. “I do.”

.

.

.

You remember the ordeal as if it was yesterday. It was as clear as the water in small stream, so transparent you can see the bottom of it.

You didn’t remember what kind of being you are—or if it was matter in the first place. But, you do recall the way something rips apart your soul, your physical body—unravelled it through space and time, until you landed on the symbol, infused with devilry.

You remember how you felt your whole body burn and ache. Horns bowed heavy at the sides of your temples. Long, acute nails scratching on the concrete below you. You recognized the smell of your own blood, from the scars all over your body—because a summoning never delivers something unscathed.

You relive the anger back then—the hatred and all the conniption you carried with every inch of your nerves because you knew you shouldn’t be there.

A mistaken calling, an unwanted prodigy.

And you remember the harsh, rough flame that covered you, rendered you useless, made you writhe and wailed and cried pathetically—begging, pleading, to be freed from it.

And then—

--you wake up. Your breath hitch and the oxygen stings your lungs. You stand up from your position, trying to calm the remarkably fast heartbeat, trying to comprehend your surroundings.

But it’s a vain effort. Your head is spiraling like you’ve been hit by a powerful swing—it affects your eyes and now everything seems splitting. You curse under your breath. Sweats make rivulets on your back and forehead.

I need to grounding, you think to yourself. In theory, it’s easy—try to focus on your senses and pay attention on the smallest things. Something real—something to make you certain that you are here instead of anywhere else your mind tries to convince you.

Once again—it’s no use. All your fingertips could feel is a hard, freezing pavement below you. And instead of the aroma of your own room—it smells like blood, fire, and a hint of morning dew.

Fuck. I need to breathe.

You inhale sharply. No matter how many times you try to feed your lungs—it feels never enough. The air is not going there; it sits in your throat and that’s it.

Call the others?

No—I can’t bother them.

You open your drawer—snatching an object, made of metallic with wooden handle. A simple folding knife; a gift from Swiss—to celebrate your arrival, he said.  

You place one of your hands on the table. Palm heads up. The other hand gripping the knife—fingers anchoring on the wooden handle. You don’t count to three when you raise your arm up to the air, before shoving it back down in rapid speed, piercing your palm, right through the other side.

You hear a wail much more faster than your ability to recognize that it’s yours.

The pain hits you abruptly—sending shivers to your nape, crawling to the end of your toes. And, Satanas, it’s fucking—hurt, but then all your senses are wondrously working.

Pain is an effective everything, Dewdrop verbalized that once. And now it’s ringing in your ear. He’s not wrong.

Your eyes have stopped its whirling. You can see your own feet and the bleeding hand. You can smell the result of your body perspiration—and the faint morning dew. You can hear the sound of your thumping heart, and—one’s footsteps in the hall, before it amplifies in every stride, stops at the front of your door.

Wait.

Morning dew and—

“Open your fuckin’ door.”

You sigh. You try to gather yourself. But you can’t hide the hoarse on your voice, makes it lose all its arrogance when you say, “Fuck off, Dewdrop.”

He calls out your name. Not a nickname that is intended to sneer or scorn at you. Your name—one that you chose for yourself, to represent the whole you.

Dewdrop enunciates every word, “Open the door.”

You felt your head heavy. As if the gravity suddenly increases tenfold, pulling your head down.

“‘S not locked.”

When the door is swung open, you could see his unvexed expression. You’re not sure whether that’s a façade or not, but—you do realize he takes a short glimpse at your palm. He closes the door behind him and gets closer to you.

You could see your own reflection on the red orbs. Without averting his gaze from yours, he stretches his arm slightly, grabs the knife, and pulls it out in one motion.

“Mngh!” You bite down your lips. Okay, Lucifer—that hurts, hurt.

He puts the knife on the table. Kneels down, he takes your hand from the table. “The fuck is going on,” he starts. Not even a question. “Everyone can smell your blood miles away.”

And hears your wail, but he doesn’t turn that into an audible voice.

You see him inspecting at your cut. With little energy left, you answer him, “Panic attack. I needed grounding—nothing helped me. Resorted to drastic measure.”

“And you can’t just call?”

“Who—you? Right.”

“Use your fuckin’ head,” he spats. You shut your mouth. “Next time; you call.”

You detect a small spark of fire from his fingers.

Memories flash once more in your head; the summoning, him restrained you on the ground, the fire—you pull away, blood dripping everywhere.

“No!” You let out a choked word. Heat creeps to your eyes, forming a puddle of water. “No fire ….”

Dewdrop looks at you. He doesn’t need to do a scrutiny to answer the sedentary questions on the back of his head. He waits a few seconds before trying to reach you again. “No fire. I bring Rain’s medical kit.”

You still hesitate.

Dew scoffs. “Give me your hand—I don’t have all night.”

You let him grasp on your palm. And—you just realized he does bring a medical kit. Didn’t aware of it before.

He works on your hand. His movement is not of a compassionate one, but also far from rough. You can feel the stings when he tugs the bandage. Small bullet of tears falls from your fluttered eyelashes. You harshly wipe it away from your cheek.

From your point of view—you could see his horns. Perfectly placed on his temple, framing his head. The horns are simple, straightforward without any curve. It’s white with dark red gradation at the base. The colour shines under the light.

“Done.” Dewdrop closes the box. “Try not to stab yourself again.”

“Why do you even come here, Dew?”

“Babysitting shift. Apparently, it’s my turn.”

You growl. Eyes glint dimly, scowl at him.

He smiles. Challenging. An attempt to ignite another fire. “What? Wanna cry?”

“Get the fuck out.”

He shrugs.

Then, after you close your door, you look at your hand. The bandage is neat and perfectly protects the injured hand.

You don’t get him.

.

.

.

It doesn’t mean anything has gone better. As the matter of fact—it’s been going downhill, keep rolling, and hasn’t reach the bottom, however deep the end line will be.

However, it’s undeniably going there.

Speaking truthfully, you have a basic idea why he loathes you so. Probably has something to do with the way you share his specialty. Or the way you push yourself to the edge in everything you do; all or nothing. The same determination you put on stage while chanting the words of Satan.

The way you bleed and bruised because you practice more than you should be, pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion.

However—you still think that’s a bad reason to hate his own kin.

Actually, you should be the one who nurtures the grudge. Keep it safe deep inside your core—let it unleash when the time is right. He burned you that day—that was not an accidental mistake, despite how your summoning was.

You are still a defect. Not were; not back then. Now. Until the end.

You can practically hear him, albeit no exact words are spoken. It’s crystal clear what he is thinking, even when he’s peacefully enjoying his dinner. Let his sharps teeth rip apart the sitting grilled meat on the perfect-polished plate. It’s not cooked all the way—you can taste raw blood on your tongue.

The first time dinner were served in this abbey—you asked naively, “What meat is this?”

Phantom’s soft smile and Aurora rubbed your back were enough of an answer. You never brought up about it anymore.

“What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” Cirrus chirps. She moves her eyes between your plate and your eyes.

You put a smile. “No, just ... I’m full.”

Cirrus blinks at your half-eaten foods.

Mountain, tries to be as subtle as he can get, sniffs the air. He then says, “Just leave it be. I’ll finish it.”

“Well, that’s not fair, is it?” Swiss takes the last bite of his portion. His grin is wide, deliberately showing his teeth.

Cumulus laughs. “Boys.”

“Holding yourself back from getting a second fill, Dew?” Rain asks, he nudges the Fire Ghoul besides him.

Dewdrop carves a simple smile. “I don’t eat dog’s leftovers.”

You stands up. Smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m going back to my room first.”

You realizes some pairs of eyes that are directed to your back. You tries to ignore it; along with the sentence that spitted out from his mouth.

.

You did feel full—however, for some reasons, your stomach grumbles once more in the middle of the night. You swipe your palm on one corner of your lips. A splatter of blood. Your eyes are luminous—much more so in the dark. Looking at the dead rabbit—or at least what’s left of it. The intestines are scattered on the dirt, the eyeballs protruding from its eye sockets.

Not bad, but ... eurgh.

You hear a rustle and footsteps. You turn around, in reflex you flick your wrist, and flame bursts on there.

“Drop it,” Dewdrop spits.

You growl. “I’d rather burn you instead.”

He’s unperturbed by the threat. Glances at the carcass. “That rabbit has rabies.”

“I’ll bite you then, let’s see if it’s true.”

“Calm down.” He cocks his head to the abbey. “Rory was searching for you. Worried by your lack of appetite.”

“Right.” You shakes your hand. The fire vanished in a mere second. “Tell her I’m fine. There is nothing to be worried about.”

“Yeah.” Dewdrop pokes at the poor animal with the tip of his shoes. “Okay. Suit yourself.”

You frown at him. “That’s it?”

Dewdrop waits for the following words that might follow.

You stammer—baffled by your own question. But you refuse to back down; to retract the illogical query, “No mockery, no taunt, the throwing insults—”

“You want me to?”

—then why the fuck have you been hostile all this time?

Something snaps on your head—quickly eroding your patience, sends lump to your larynx, and all you want to do is spit out.

But instead—you reach where he stands. In one swift movement, you clutch at his shirt, pull it down until his neck is accessible to your lips.

You expand your jaw—flexing the fangs, before it digs to his neck.

Dewdrop hisses.

You taste a distinct metallic liquid—a long stripe of your tongue dances across the freshly made scars. You allow your lips to latch on him a little longer. Drinking softly, satisfied the thirst.

Weird. You just ate, but—the hunger rises even more. There is sweet, cold sensation on your throat, flowing abundantly.

Dewdrop presses his forehead on your shoulder. “Fuckin—bitch.” The words almost lose all its meaning. He puts his hand on your back, tracing the spine, before his fingers stays on your waist.

You unconsciously whimper. Goosebumps all over, soft electricity tickles every cell of you.

Guess she’s still hungry after all.

Dewdrop waits for a perfect 10 seconds and he realizes that you have no intention to stop. Blood literally drained from his body—and he starts to feel light-headed. His vision swaying, as if it’s rocked like a new-born baby.

He struggles, holding your shoulder. “Fuck, stop it.”

You hums. His request falls on deaf ears.

Dewdrop grits his teeth before deciding to flex his fingers, nails short but sharp, claws at your back. Not deep—yet, enough to invoke your screams.

You gets away from him. Pupil wide, looking at him and the streams of blood on his nape, dripping to his shirt.

Your first grunt is sent to give a warning. The second one is a promise.

Dewdrop stands sturdy on his feet. You leaps at him, claws and fire blend into one. You pushes him to the ground, using full force of your body, sit on his stomach and plant your nails on his chest, dragging it forward.

You grins. You shouldn’t feel as excited as you do now, but—you do.

Dewdrop groans, he hits your side with his knee—not his best attempt, not using his entire power, yet capable of launching you away from him.

He coughs. Spews blood. He already lose some of it because you latched at him like a stupid leech. He sees you writhing on the ground. Suspecting your ribs must have been broken.

He uses the chance to strike back, caging you with his body, teeth slashes your neck.

You cries, fights back, grabs at his arms.

He bites harder, using one of his hands to caged your wrist, put it on top of your head.

You wail, relight the fire on your palm.

Dew hisses, pulling away his hands, lose his momentum. Despite him owning the element, a foray from the same kind still hurts the same—your fire burns him in a way he can’t burn himself with his own fire.

And you jumps once more at him. Scratching, burning, killing, claiming—at least that’s the idea.

The fight lasts for only another 5 minutes—before Swiss found his teammates ripping each others’ guts out and processing to separate them. The others are showing up almost at the same time with him. Half of them seize Dewdrop—his hands still digging out from the arms that contain him; seeking your flesh, nails bathed by your blood. His grin is as wide as yours.

The ghoulettes grip at your waist—for both of your arms covered with fire. You keep trying to magnify the flame—but Rain pours a colossal amount of clean water on you. It's prickling on your wounds and you kicks uncoordinatedly in retaliation and expressing the pain.

When Copia hears the news, both you and Dewdrop already fell into the state of forced slumber. Phantom used his devilry—a forte of his—to make you and Dewdrop lose consciousness, stopped the fight instantly.

Copia, in the state of frustration no one ever seen before—says calmly, “We need to send one of them back. Or both.”

Mountain knits his eyebrows. “It’s just a fight.” He doesn’t sound sure of his own statement. It sounds like he’s trying to assure himself—rather than the leader.

“One of these times, they are gonna kill each other,” the man speaks in authority and absolute law. He looks at the sag bodies of his ghoul and ghoulette. Wrapped in bandages, black and blue everywhere. The obvious burn spots are tormenting to look at. “And that’s not a pretty sight I’d want to see—for the rest of you to see.”

“Sending them back to hell will relive the previous memory.” Cumulus’ tone is soft. “‘S not going to be a pretty sight for both of them either.”

Copia sighs.

“Then make sure they stop doing this.”

.

.

.

It was a disaster. It truly was. You weren’t sure how you lose it. Perhaps it was the last trigger that you needed to break loose all hell. Perhaps after all this time—all you wish to do is fight back.

You take a deep breath, then let it go gently. You raise your hand to reach the cupboard. Grab a cup glass, wanting to fill it with water.

But then you notice the healed scar on your wrist. An inarguable prove that someone once raked your skin.

You look at it then blink. After the incident—Copia strictly advised you and Dewdrop to create some distances. Practice is withheld until further notice. You clearly heard the underlying threat from Copia, albeit unspoken, “One more of this tomfoolery, I’m sending you back.”

So here you are—avoiding him as much as you can. The same way he’s excusing himself every time he notices your presence. Both of you have enough sanity to not fuck up for the second time.

Even so, the relationship between you and the pack haven’t changed, so does him and the others. Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora still hang out with you a lot—and you cherish every second of it. Mountain and Rain, using their alchemy, tend to your wounds. Swiss is still as the same as the usual.

You’re sure that’s the case with him as well. So, it really resurfaces the question once more ...

... why does he despise me?

No. It’s maybe ....

You look at your wrist. The recollection of that night flashes in front of your eyes. The calm, shining moon, under a starry sky. And in a matter of a second, as if something ties up your chest, pressing it down—you feel your breath hitched.  

You put the glass on the table before drop it down and possibly break it.

Oh, no.

You recognize all too well of what’s coming. The sound of your own heartbeat is loud, pounding your ear drums.

“Hey—are you okay?”

You bring your head up—eyes land on Mountain’s figure, just a few steps away from where you are. You suspect he’s going to have a breakfast, as you were intending to do.

You swallow a chunk on your throat, “Yes, I’m fi—”

—ne? Really?

Mountain calls for your name. He gets closer, places his palm on your jaw.

“Sorry,” you say weakly. “Can you squeeze me—really hard?”

“Yes,” he answers, fast, doubtless. He puts both of his arms under yours, adhered his body against you. He gives you a firm hug, pats your back. His tail, spade-pointed, even delicately wrap around you.

It is so strong, yet—you don’t feel suffocated. It’s warm and more than you can hope for. It makes you smells the particular earthy fragrance—as if you’re lying on a field of flower in the middle of the spring. Your hammering heart slows gradually, back to its original resting rhythm. You sob quietly, hugging him back when the addled brain finally clear.

You sigh.

He was right.

You should have called somebody—no matter who.

.

You meet him again after a while. You find him sitting on a window tracery. A big one—located in the highest part of the building. From here, you could see the view of the whole hill. The green and dark forest, skirted this—castle. And on more far away, you could see the faint, glimmering light of the city.

Dewdrop, without turning his head, asking, “What?”

“Rain is looking for you,” you say, face directed at him. Leaning one of your shoulder to the frame of the window. Built out of stone, all the slopes were precisely carved into pointed trefoil, with flowery-like strokes all along the edges. “Wanna take a look at your knee. He’s at the chapel.”

He scoffs. “And out of all people, he asked you to fetch me?”

“No.” You still look at his eyes—reddish with a tint of blue. The colour of flame. “I volunteered.”

Now—there it is, he looks at you. Confusion painted on his scowl.

“Tomorrow is our first rehearsal since ... the incident.” You smile. “Wanted to talk to you first. Make sure we don’t fuck it up again, hm-mn?”

He delivers a humourless chuckle. “Right.”

And, amongst the silence that fills the air, you break it gently, “Why do you loathe me, Dew?”

Without missing a beat, he speaks, “You’re a mistake.”

“No—I’ve heard that one,” you persist. You stand on your tip-toes, raise your head to meet his eyes—because he’s sitting in a higher position from you. You extend your hand, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “Why, exactly, do you that relentlessly—scorn on me?”

Now—you are not sure what kind of face you make at him. Or what gear just clicked on his mind, turning, rolling around—linked on the correct places. However, he seems determined to answer truthfully, as he grabs the back of your neck. Strong enough that you feel his nails.

“You are insufferable.” His fingers rubbing your nape. “You fuss, you howl—testing my patience. Ever since you rose from that pit.”

You wait.

“To the point I want to burn you whole.” He smiles. “To scars you—rake my claws on you. To see you bleed and writhe—to see you fuckin’ break, ruined and wrecked.”

“Then fuckin’ break me,” you growls. An invitation, disguised as a provocation. You whine. “Ruin me, Dew. What are you waiting for?”

He snarls. Eyes lustful—one claw is teasing your skin, prickling it. He clutches on your sides, lifts you up—makes you sit on his lap. Groins grinding at each other and you bucking your hips—frictions send quiver to your legs.

“Shame.” He catches your jaw with one hand. Forcing you to look at him. “Had you begged, I’d have let you go.”

Had I begged; you’d have enjoyed it more. You want to say that. But you don’t bother. No, when his hands roaming on your body—take off your shirt, fling it somewhere. You’ll find that later. His fingers outline your curves and find themselves on your breast. He pinches the nipples, hard—unforgiving.

You tremble and he orders you to stay still with the scratches he makes below your tits, between the lines of your ribs. He twists the tip of your tits. Smears your chest with your own blood.

As a way to distract yourself from the pain—you nib on his neck. Teeth are sinking and Dewdrop groans—a mix of pleasure and a throbbing pain.

You can feel heat and wetness pooling at the centre of your sex. His hands are unrelenting working their way on your soft plump of flesh. Kneads it, harshly, like a cat forcing its paws.

And see—it’s been going on fine, until the scent of metallic liquid distorts your mind once again. Your breath in and out in a broken tempo—but not in a good way. You inhale, hold it as if water strangles your lungs, and you exhale as if you are choking on something.

Dewdrop notices it, holding your jaw, cupping it with his palms. He hisses—then seals his eyes into yours. “None of that. You focus here—only here.”

You nod frantically—trying to follow his lead.

He brings your forehead to meet with his. Horns clunking, nuzzling against each other.

“Deep breath.”

Trembling, you close your eyes. Try to grasp the air, let it walk through your diaphragm, slowly, but surely. And—here it is, the smell of a morning dew. Droplets on the leaf when dawn emerges from the dark.

Dewdrop uses his fingers to tap on your back—like playing a piano. Careful on each tuts, but demolishes any gesture of hesitation. You feel the warm taps behind you—recognize the heat, the unusual high temperature that separates him and the others.

When you lift your eyelids—red orbs, black sclera, are there to welcome you.

Dewdrop’s eyes are crosshairs, locked into you. “You with me?”

A nod.

“Words.”

“‘M here,” you say. Slightly pull your head back. “I’m here,” you repeat, murmuring so soundlessly. You take another breath before tilting your head, calculating the right angle.

Dewdrop let you work with your own pace. His hands still tapping and you kiss him. It’s slow at first—testing the water, getting known of the uncharted territory. Doesn’t take long until you find the guts to do more—to bite on his lips, to increase the magnitude, knock around his teeth using your tongue. The clicking of each lips, the hungry, and needy sucking are growing—ravaging in a way no one ever has before.

Dewdrop stifles his moan. Can feel you drooling and he involuntarily scoffs against your mouth.

He makes sure you’re not relapsing first before his fingers travel south. Circling around your navel, before stopping on the zipper of your pants. He takes off the button, zips down, middle finger and ring finger swipe the outside of your underwear.

You gasp, stomach muscle tightens. He strokes the damp cloth, made of soft cotton. Patience was never really his strong suit—he said that before—he slides down your underwear from your hips. A trail of half-transparent slick makes a thin bridge before it severed by the created distance. He slips his two fingers up to your entrance, creating an incline inside—a contour, moulded by him rightfully. 

You shudder, nails digging on his shoulder. Clenching from the new sensation—almost shut close your thighs together. But his other arm clasping on it—prevents you to do so.

His fingers move inside, stretching the overly, unbelievably—spongy walls. Your hip keep shifting and he feels stiff in his pants it’s almost hurt. As if something is biting down on him. But mostly it hurts because he knows that the urge that has been seeping through him since who knows when—is now attacking back as a horde, nullifying the sane part of him (a small part he has).

“Ah—”

You bite your lower lips.

“No. If you hold it; I’ll stop.”

You moan. The fingers poking at the right place. Scratching your inner muscle that keep contracting-relaxing. “The—,” you hold a wail, “—chapel is right below us.”

“Not my concern.”

“Dew—!”

He presses at the clit using his thumb and you slightly jump. You purr and elicit high-pitched, un-verbal cry as the touch on your bundle of nerves doesn’t stop. You gripping on his fingers, wave of pleasure ready to wash over you and just a little bit more—just a little bit more, you’ll cry in relief, let go of the tension.

But—he stops in a precise time. Like a cruel joke, he grins, and all the pride, the resolution, or anything that was left of you—was burned completely.

You look at him, all teary, stimulations sending you over the edge. Heart is torn-up by shame and the desire to wanting more; to savour what heaven feels like.

Or hell—if it’s any matter.

“You want me to break you?” Dewdrop slides off his own pants. Fingers circling on his own erection, thumb idles on the tip—purple-ish colour. So beautiful, so unworldly. It’s hard, blood filling his sex so fully, leaving no space between veins, nerves bulging almost painfully.

He position himself, glides his cock between your labia—slippery, soft. Wetness helps him, but nothing compares to your evoked whimpers; drumming in his ear, intensified the arousal that keep building inside him, ready to burst anytime. Ticking bomb of indulging deed you both are participating right now.

He groans. “I’ll break you, love.”

You moan. His hand on your bottom and a harsh slap is given ruthlessly. You wail, forehead droop on his collarbone—keening into his touch, despite all the abuse he’s been putting you through. Your ass must be red and probably bleeding, for you can feel he keep whipping on your skin.

And when he finally thrust inside—he does it rough, hips slamming, squelching, each sound lewder than before. You roll back your eyes, back arching. He grips on your hips, moving it in tandem with his pace, and with every push-and-pull, with every shove—he feels so good he almost whining, for his shaft gets drown in the molten, spasming flesh.

There are trains of grunts and moans and you can’t help the sad, pathetic, dog-like plead, “Pleasepleaseplease—”

Dewdrop slams his hip, knocking at the base of your cervix, plant himself to the hilt. You cry, incapable of forming words. Nothing really matters except the gushing feeling on your lower stomach; the absolute relish of the most primal, worldly—longing.

Dewdrop spread your half-dried blood to your clit. He’s trailing a repetitive motion there. You can feel your legs twitching, toes-curling, and your ragged breath becomes more and more disarray. The threatening climax is there and by Satan—you wish to embrace it like a good girl of Lucifer you are.

It’s doesn’t feel like it’ll be enough. Out of your own volition, you keep bouncing down, chasing the immeasurable peak, and your claws deep on his shoulders, near his neck. Incoherent words, breaking moans—you sob as he rutting inside.

And when he releases inside you, at the same time when you orgasm—something zaps you hard, rattling on your brain, reverberating through your body and your vision turns to white, glimmering, shattering pieces. The back of your eyes are running around, cells swirling and all that. Your scream is erotic, hurdling on every corner of the room. You can hear Dewdrop’s choked up groans as he fills you inside, as his cock still scraping your walls, deterring his cum from coming out.

You cry, limbs vibrate, but—all of your energy has been wringed, and nothing you can do except squeeze out the remaining tears, the manifestation of the overwhelming euphoria.

Dewdrop exhales heavily, chest moves up and down—slowly, following his breath. He grabs the side of your head, kisses your temple. His hand brushes the sweats on your cheek before he bites on your chest.

You whine—a useless protest.

Dewdrop smiles.

.

.

.

.

.

“Finally found a way to cope with your own emotion, dear?”

Dewdrop blinks. He offers a smile and caress his nape. A new bandage encircles his neck softly enough to make sure he doesn’t lose the ability to breath. Rain’s handiwork is neat, clean, and flawless as usual.

“I always knew how to cope with my emotion, Papa.”

Copia sighs. He’s scanning the ghoul in front of him and he gets reminded by one particular ghoulette—with almost the same pattern of new scars. “Yes, but she didn’t know how. You let her standing on a too thin of a line, Dew.”

Shoving her around like a cat playing with its food. Copia almost verbalize that. But he doesn’t have to—he knows Dewdrop knows the implication behind his words.

Dewdrop’s crooked grin expands, just a slightly. “Well—but it’s all true. She is a mistake. The incantation was supposed to bring a being with more—peaceful, element. She raised hell on earth the moment she arrived.”

“Yes, but it was your request to keep her—instead of sending her back right away.”

The Fire Ghoul hold his hands behind his back. Like a merciless, wicked child—knows nothing except taking what they want. Inflicting pain is their first and foremost nature, laughing on the misery of others.

“And yet—the final call was in your hand and you chose for her to stay.”

Copia rolls his eyes. He swears to the King of Hell he adores one and every single of his ghoul, but sometimes—they are his everlasting headaches.

“One rule, Tesoro.”

“Anything, Papa.”

“I don’t want to see another blood-bath,” he states. “Your fellow mates are far more delicate than you are—and her.”

“I won’t,” promises Dewdrop. He waves his hand as Copia turns to the other way, walking across the hall. He lets out a snort and walking to the opposite way. On the corner of the hall, he notices the unmistakable footsteps.

He looks at you and says, “Rain and Mountain have checked you?”

You give him a nod. “Yeah. Met Papa after that. He asked me where did I get the wounds.”

He scoffs. “What did you tell him?”

“Hunting,” you speak nonchalantly. “Fought with the bear.”

“Right. Smart.”

You hear the sarcasm and decide to ignore it. “Well—anyway, I’m going back.”

“Tomorrow before practice,” Dewdrop calls for your name. “My room?”

You laugh half-heartedly. “What, like a bitch in heat?”

Oh, so now—she bites back.

"Aren't you one?"

“No,” you answer. “Can’t have the guitars smeared in blood. Use your head.”

Dewdrop doesn’t return the taunting as you’re walking away from him. He just smiles, going to his own resting place.

Fire is destructive.

When it united, it grows so powerful it swallows up the world around them. More often than not, it fights each other, meeting in the middle, before eradicates its own life.

But, just for a fleeting moment, a second when two fires meet each other—there is a foxtrot between them, every flame, every ember, intertwined like lovers’ fingers, twirling and drowning together, like a pair of bettas with their flowing and colourful tails, brush against one and another.

And both of him and you—find comfort in fire.  

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

This idea hit me like a ton of bricks, so of course I had to write it.

From my au where Lucian and a vampire!Peter live together and have a cat named Catmilla.

Warning: mentions of silver-related injuries, Peter has pierced ears and nothing in canon can change my mind

On with the fic!

--

Peter frowned as he dug about in the little box where he kept all his piercings, both fake and real. He wanted to wear this one pair he had that were snakes with little red gems dangling from them, but he couldn’t find both of them. Well, he had one of them, and it had been left exactly where he placed it this morning before his shower. But the second one, which had been right next to it, was missing.

Had he put it back in the box after he dumped it out to find the piercings in the first place? 

Hmm, no, he knew he had left them both out. Had Catmilla knocked it off? No, she hasn’t moved from her cat bed by the window, too comfy with the Vegas sunlight to bother getting up any time soon. 

He looked all over and around his personal vanity, not finding the damn thing. With a huff, Peter moved out of the room as he worked to put the lone piercing in. “Hey babe,” He called out to Lucian, wherever he was in the flat, “you got a sec?”

“Yes, I’m just in the weapons hall.” Lucian called back and Peter found him removing one of the swords from the wall, wearing gloves. Ah, right, he was planning on cleaning and sharping some of them today. 

Peter noticed his boyfriend has his hair pulled back, always a good look for him, but he also noticed something else. 

Something familiar dangling from Lucian’s left ear.

“There it is!” Peter exclaimed, making Lucian jump, nearly dropping the sword. 

“W-what?” Lucian blinked, turning to look at him.

“My earring! You had it! I spent forever trying to find the match and you had it the whole- wait a fuckin’ minute! You have pierced ears!?” 

Lucian set the sword side before turning completely to face him. “Ah, well, just the one, actually. But yes, I have a pierced ear.”

“B-but I’ve never seen you wear anythin’ before? And don’t you heal quickly from injuries? How can your ear still have a hole in it for a piercing?”

Lucian removed his gloves, then he removed the piercing. He approached Peter and let him look at the small hole. It looked rather like the silver scars Lucian- oh. “You pierced your ear with silver?” 

“Actually, Sonja did.” Lucian said, sounding a bit embarrassed. “She thought it would be a good look on me, having my ear pierced. One night, she took a silver needle to do it, and let me tell you, it was one of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had with silver.”

“Probably hurts like a paper cut, tiny but oh so evil and painful.” Peter commented, taking his earring back when Lucian handed it to him. “That’s cool and all, but how come I’ve never seen you wear anything before?”

“I just don’t think about it, and any I had are long gone after 2003. Sorry for wearing yours, I noticed it and thought, hm, it’s been a while. I didn’t know you were planning on wearing it.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” Peter said as he put it in his other ear. “’sides, it doesn’t match you. I’m sure I’ve got something more your style. Maybe a small ring? Oh! I’ve got a variety of those, and in different colors and textures! Or maybe one of my moon ones? I’ve even got a few with bats! Let me go get the box!” 

He ran off, his mind currently occupied with the thought of how hot it was that his fashion-backwards boyfriend can wear a piercing.

--

The earrings Peter is wearing are real and I have them. 

Every Michael Sheen character I write for should have his left ear pierced. I know my Aziraphale’s always do! Why not Lucian? 

[winstonsns]

Can you do the gang getting a piercing from y/n?

the gang gets a piercing from reader (request)

authors note: i don’t know much about piercings but i have some earrings. my friend has done her own piercings on call and my cousin has done her own piercings in person with me there, so ill try my best. thank you all for being so supportive!! 💗

includes: ponyboy, johnny, soda, darry, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, needles, bleeding

PONYBOY CURTIS

the two of you were walking home after school and were talking about piercings that you think would look good on each other

he said he thinks a vertical labret would look good on you, and you say the same for him

you say you can give him a piercing since you have everything at home, plus you were already walking in the direction of your house

he said darry might get mad at him, but he wants to have fun so he went

when the two of you arrived at your house, he followed you upstairs after he took his shoes off

walking into your room, you told him to close the door behind him and you’d get the supplies

you grabbed surgical gloves, a needle and a silver barbell

you walked back to pony, seeing him sitting on the chair of your vanity

you moved his hair away from his face and lightly kissed him, asking him if he really wants the piercing

he’s still looking up at you and nods

you pick up the blue pen and draw as gently as you can on his lip

he looks in the mirror and says “is that where the piercing would be?” so you say yes, and asks him if it’s a good place

he says yes and you wipe it off his lip, preparing to shove the needle through his lip

you count down for him “3..2..1..” and pushed the needle through his lip, his eyes closing

you told him, “you’re doing great, just a few more seconds…”

you grabbed the barbell and put it through his lip, the needle going through

when you stopped, he opened his eyes and smiled, looking at you then the mirror

he smiled widely, telling you it looks amazing and he’s happy about it

JOHNNY CADE

johnny randomly asked you if you could give him a piercing, a lip ring on the right of his lip

you said sure and let him into your house

he sat down on the couch and waited for you to get the supplies you needed

you grabbed a piercing ring, needle, gloves and a napkin for bleeding

you had a pen on a table nearby, so you grabbed it and drew a dot on his lip

he looked in the mirror across from him and said it was in a nice place

you wiped it off and smiled at him, gently pulling his lip down and grabbed a piercing ring that would go in his lip

you put the needle through his lip and got the piercing, putting it through the hole and pulling the needle out

he had his eyes closed, and licked his lips after the piercing was done

it had only taken a few minutes, so he looked at the mirror across from him once again and smiled

he thanked you and gave you a kiss

you took off your gloves and the two of you went upstairs to your room

he was tired and wanted to cuddle :)

SODAPOP CURTIS

the two of you were at sodas house, when he tells you about all the things that happened at work

he tells you about some guy who came into the DX, he had many piercings all over his face and everyone was staring at him

soda said the man looked like the tinfoil man from the wizard of oz but he’s always wanted earrings

you offer to pierce his ears since you have the right supplies and a few earrings you’ve never used, they look like ones he would look good with

soda says he’d love that but he asks darry first since he doesn’t want to get in trouble or yelled at

“yeah you can go to y/n’s house. don’t do anything irresponsible, soda. be back by 12.” darry said

soda said thank you to his brother, you smiled at him and grabbed his hand, walking out the door together

the two of you got into your car, heading towards your house

you pierced your own ears before, and if you can do your own then he can do someone else’s

when you arrived at your house, your parents greeted him and you told soda to up to your room

you grabbed some paper towels and a needle then headed upstairs to your room

you caught him looking at your vanity, where there’s a photo of you and soda at the beach, along with cute notes from him stuck on the big mirror

you grab a box filled with many earrings, only the ones you’ve never used

“pick which pair of earrings you want, soda, tell me which ones and we’ll put them in when your ears are pierced.” you tell him

he looks through the box for a few seconds, then choses silver ones, asking if he can have them

you of course say yes, and tell him to sit on the vanity chair

he sits and stares up at you while you put on your gloves, using a pen to make dots on his ears

you turn his head to look at the mirror so he sees the placement of the dots, and says they look good

you wipe off the mark and grab the clean needle, asking soda if he wants to go through with it

he says yes, and you push the needle through his ear and put the piercing in, pushing the needle out

you put the backing on the right earring

“you good, hon??” you ask, and he responds with “yeah it feels fine, hardly felt anything—“

while he was distracted, you shoved the needle through his left earlobe and heard a loud screech

“owwwwieeeeee!!!!” soda said, of course as a joke

you chuckle and pick up the other piercing, again putting it through the hole the needle made, pushing the needle out

you put the backing on and take your gloves off, brushing his hair out of his face

he looks in the mirror and has a horrified look on his face

your face turns pale and you’re like “oh shit, you don’t like it?? sorry!” and start freaking out

he starts laughing and says he loves the piercings, giving you multiple kisses on your face

DARRY CURTIS

the two of you were talking and he naturally complemented your piercings, you thanked him and showed him some you would’ve gotten but felt as if they wouldn’t look good on you

he pointed out one piercing, the helix on the ear

“i’ve always wanted a piercing like that but never had the time to get it, it just looks real nice..” darry mumbled

you told him you could pierce it yourself since you have the money to get the supplies, you just had to go get it

he told you it’s fine and you didn’t have to do it, he could get it done another time since he had to take care of his brothers

“dare, pony’s at school and soda’s at work. this is the perfect time to do anything you want!!” you said

he agreed with you and said you two could go to the store, you needed the supplies to give him a helix

the two of you walked to the front door, out to your car

you started driving to the store, you bought needles, a few piercings that darry chose himself, and sanitary gloves

after paying at the cash register, you walked out with darry, asking him if he’d like to go to your house or his

“my house, i need to be there when pony gets off from school and soda comes home from work..” he responded

when the two of you got back to his house, you told him to sit down at the dinner table

you put on your sanitary gloves and grabbed a blue pen, marking darry’s ear for where the helix piercing would be

you showed him your mirror and asked him if the location was fine, and when he confirmed, you wiped off the mark

you grabbed the needle and asked him if he was ready

before he answered, you pushed the needle through his ear so he would be caught off guard and wouldn’t be stressed

he closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the pain

you gently picked up the piercing he wanted and put it on top of the needle, pushing the needle out and the piercing in

you patted his cheek once you took off your gloves, and showed him the mirror once again

he smiled at you, said it looks nice and thanked you

DALLAS WINSTON

one day you guys were talking and the subject of piercings and tattoos came up

you said someday you want to get a little tattoo of the dates of when you had your pets

he said he might get a tattoo one day but he wanted a piercing, specifically an eyebrow piercing or a nose piercing

you told him you could give him a piercing since he probably wouldn’t pay for a professional one

the two of you go back to your house and go upstairs to your room

you tell him to take off his shoes and go sit on your bed while you grab a needle and two curved barbells from a box on your vanity

“hold on dal, i need to get gloves. need to be at least a little sanitary, right? don’t do anything while im gone.” you say

he responds with a short “take your time, doll, won’t do anything bad..”

you run downstairs and quickly get blue, sanitary gloves and run back upstairs to your room

you come back with a few paper towels in case he bled a lot

you grabbed a blue pen and marked a dot above dally’s right eyebrow, you grabbed a mirror and asked him if it’s a good location for the piercing to be at

he says it’s perfect and you wipe it off, remembering exactly where the piercing was

grabbing the needle, you stand in front of him while he’s sitting on your bed, and push it right through his skin

he winces and tells you, “fuck, baby, should’ve given me a damn warning next time…”

you apologize while grabbing the actual piercing itself, putting the barbell on top of the needle and shoving the needle through and out, putting the barbell in

he’s looking up at you the whole time then you say “you’re doing amazing, hon. we’re done with the hard part. just gotta put the ball on to secure the piercing..”

you grab the ball part of the piercing and screw it onto the curved barbell

you realized you didn’t actually need the paper towels since you put the piercing in the perfect place, and he didn’t bleed at all

you walked away and showed him the mirror, also showing him with his new piercing

he lightly touched the new piercing and flinched slightly, telling you it looks amazing and he loves it

he grabs you by the hips, causing you to put down the mirror, and sits you on his lap

he kisses you while giving many thanks, softly rubbing your back

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

he made a bet with steve that dally wouldn’t flirt with any girls a the drive in, and if he did then two-bit would have to get a piercing of his choice

he lost since dally tried to hit on cherry, and she obviously brushed him off, so he got pissed and ran off

steve told two-bit to ask you to give him a piercing since he probably didn’t wanna pay for it

so he walked from the drive in to your house and knocked on your door

when you answered, he automatically asked “can you give me a piercing… like earrings? i lost a bet.”

you stared at him for a few seconds before shrugging and saying “sure. i already have the supplies, go sit on the couch, my parents aren’t home.”

he came into your house and sat on the couch, looking around and seeing the walls were well decorated, with pictures of you and your family on stands and tables

you went upstairs to your room, got a needle, earrings and a mirror

after gathering supplies, you walked down the stairs and walked to the pantry to grab surgical gloves

you walked to the living room, two-bit was watching television

you drew dots on his ears and picked up the mirror, asked him if the dots were in a good place

he said they were, so you wiped it off and put the gloves on, then grabbed the needle

he was focused on the show he was watching, so you pushed the needle through his left earlobe

two-bit hardly had a reaction, so you grabbed the piercing and pushed it through the hole the needle made

you pushed the needle through the right earlobe, where the mark was, and grabbed another piercing

you pushed the piercing through his ear, pushing the needle out

you took your gloves off and sat on the couch next to two-bit

“holy shit, wait did you do it? i hardly felt anything..” he said, so you showed him the mirror so he could see the piercings

he touched his ear and started laughing, realizing he had no reaction but it still looked good

he thanked you, so the two of you started talking about the show he was watching

STEVE RANDLE

steve was walking down the street with you after you two were done eating lunch at a restaurant

a man passed by you, he had a madonna piercing, and steve told you that the piercing looked good

“yeah, that piercing looked cool. do you want one? cause if you do, i have what we need at home so i can do it for you—“ you said

“really?? like we could get the piercing done right now?” he said, you said yes and started walking back to your car

he followed you, the two of you got into the car and drove home

you walked into the house, told him to go upstairs since you had to get the items and talk to your parents

you told them steve is gonna stay at the house for a few hours, so you grabbed surgical gloves, a few napkins and headed upstairs

you walked to your parents room to get a needle from your moms sewing kit, and walked back to your room, where steve was

he was sitting on your bed and looking around your room

you put your supplies on a napkin on the bed next to him

you looked at your piercings collection, and saw a piercing that would work well on steve as a madonna piercing

walking over to him, you used a pen to place a dot to the left above his lip

you showed him a mirror and he saw his reflection, knowing it was in the perfect spot

wiping off the ink, you put on your gloves and grabbed the needle

with your other hand, you gently grabbed his lip and stuck the needle through it

you got the piercing and pushed it through, moving your head to see the piercing well

you nodded and grabbed a mirror, pointing it towards his direction so he could see

“woah it looks just like the one that guy had!!” steve exclaimed

he gave you a hug and the two of you talked about how work and schools going

authors note: sorry this one is kind of repetitive! thank you for reading, i’m working on another request so please be patient 💗

[marblepro]

Hair Oil Spills on Your Bathroom Marble Vanity Top? Follow These to Remove the Stains

How to remove oil stains from a white bathroom marble vanity top? Well, bathroom vanity tops are more prone to spills and stains compared to other marble tops. Marble vanities in bathrooms come with lots of things. We usually put our makeup and skincare products on our bathroom top. And thus. It’s a must to be careful around them.

Yet, you may accidentally spill things like hair oil on the surface and stain your beautiful marble counter. Since marble is porous, it takes seconds for oil spills to get into the stone through the pores. Hence, you must take immediate action if you accidentally spill something oily like hair oil on your marble bathroom vanity.

Wondering what to do? Well, let’s discuss that in the following blog post.

How can you draw hair oil spills out from your white marble countertop?

Accidental spills can happen anytime. Yet, accidental oil spills on the marble countertop can harm the surface and leave an ugly yellowish stain on it. It won’t only ruin the look of the bathroom but also cause more dirt to accumulate on your precious marble countertop.

But well, you can remove the oil stains from the marble top using the below methods,

1. Using cornstarch:

Apply cornstarch generously on the stained part of your marble top and leave it like that for the next 24 hours.

Wash the area the next day with a gentle detergent and hot water.

It’ll draw out the oil overnight from the pores of the stone.

2. Using acetone:

If the above step doesn’t work, take a gentle cleaning agent and mix it with a few drops of acetone.

Now apply the soapy solution over the oil-stained area on the vanity and leave it like that at least for 15 minutes.

Then take a paper towel and blot the soapy mixture using it.

The soapy solution will blot up as much oil as it can from the stone pores and transfer it to the paper towel.

3. Using hydrogen peroxide:

If none of the above steps worked, then you should follow the poultice method to remove the hair oil stain from your marble top.

First, rip a few white paper towels into small pieces.

Now take a mixing bowl and fill it with hydrogen peroxide solution.

Dip the piece of paper towels into that solution.

Now place these soaked pieces of the paper towel over the oil-stained part on the counter.

Take a plastic wrap and cover the entire area with it. Secure the edges with painter’s tape.

Cut some holes in the plastic wrap to allow the poultice to dry off.

Leave the entire thing like that for about the next 24 hours.

Check the wrapped part of the marble top and ensure not to remove the wrap until the pieces of paper towel are completely dry.

After 24 hours, remove the plastic wrap and the paper towel pieces from the surface.

Mix a gentle dishwashing liquid and hot water in a spray bottle.

Spray the solution on the entire surface of the marble countertop and wipe the countertop with a soft microfiber cloth.

Now take another soft clean cloth to dry the surface completely. Ensure that there’s no moisture left on the surface to avoid leaving water marks on the counter.

Final thought,

Have you accidentally spilled your hair oil on your white bathroom marble vanity top? Using the right tips, you can clean the stains from it. We hope this blog will help you with that.

[vancouverkitchenrenovation]

LED Lights in Bathroom

Whether you are looking for new lighting for your bathroom or you are renovating it, LED lights are a great way to update the look of the room without making a huge change. You can choose from dimmable options or use a recessed or flushmount light fixture. There are even globe light bulbs and accent lighting options.

Recessed LED trims

Adding recessed LED trims in a bathroom is a good way to add style and functionality. It can also help you create a clean, modern look. Recessed lights can be used in a variety of areas, including showers and bathtubs. You can also install recessed can lights to give your room a bright, eye-pleasing look. You can also use recessed lighting in bars around your vanity area.

The most common size for residential recessed downlights is six inches. You can also use halogen, fluorescent or LED light bulbs. You can choose from a variety of trim styles, including baffle and flat.

A baffle trim is a small, smooth trim that reduces the appearance of holes in your ceiling. This type of trim is typically available in white or black. It is also designed to absorb excess light. This trim style is best for use in large spaces.

Flushmounts

Whether you’re looking for modern or traditional flushmounts for led lights in bathroom, there are many options. The best way to make a good choice is to consider the style of your bathroom and the lighting requirements of your room.

A flushmount can make a good choice for any bathroom, especially if you have a small ceiling. Many of these lights are available in a variety of shapes and finishes.

You can even opt for an integrated LED flushmount light, which doesn’t require replacement light bulbs. This type of light fixture is a great way to make your bathroom a maintenance-free space. It’s also a good way to add style to your bathroom.

You can also choose to install track lighting over your vanity or kitchen island. These lights have a variety of uses, from general illumination to task lighting.

Accent lighting

Using LED accent lights in your bathroom can be easy. They offer energy efficiency, as well as a variety of color options to help you find the perfect look for your home. These lights are small enough to be hidden. You can also use them in cabinetry or in a closet shelving system.

Bathrooms are meant to be relaxing places. This means that the lighting should be designed to complement your activities. It should also be able to make you feel good in front of the mirror.

Accent lighting in the bathroom is a good way to add depth and a point of interest. You can use accent lighting in the shower area, as well as the bathtub.

Accent lighting is usually used to highlight certain architectural features or decor. It is also used to draw attention to artwork, shelves and other decorative items.

Globe light bulbs

Using Globe light bulbs for bathroom led lights is a great way to add elegance to your bathroom. Globe bulbs are available in a wide variety of wattages and finishes. These bulbs provide warm, glare-free light. They can be used in bathrooms and other areas where you want a soft, white light.

There are several factors to consider when choosing the right light bulb. Firstly, you need to think about the size of your bathroom. If your bathroom is small, you may want to choose a bulb with a smaller wattage. Also, you may want to consider how durable a light bulb is. Some bulbs are designed to last for a long time, while others are designed to save energy.

One way to save energy is to buy a bulb with a high CRI rating. This will help you save money by ensuring that you are getting the most accurate colors. The CRI of a bulb is determined by how well it can show the true color of a certain object.

Dimmable options

Whether you’re considering installing LED lights in your bathroom or you just want to improve the aesthetics of your bathroom with a little bit of sprucing up, there are a few factors to consider before you install your first LED bulb. For starters, you may want to consider a few LED lights in a single location. This will help you to achieve the desired look and feel. The lights may also be dimmed for maximum visibility.

LED bulbs are a more energy efficient option than incandescents and are designed to last a long time. This makes them a viable alternative for bathroom lighting. For larger bathrooms, you may want to consider a 75-watt LED bulb.

The biggest gimmick with LEDs is that they don’t get hot as quickly as incandescents. This makes them a good choice for bathroom lighting, especially if you’re looking to get the most bang for your buck.

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The bathroom is often the last room people consider renovating, which makes sense since it’s usually the smallest space in the house. With Vancouver Kitchen Renovation, you can expect a spa-like bathroom that feels luxurious and is built to last. We’ll create a custom bathroom design based on your preferences and budget and handle everything from demolition to installation.

We understand that to be successful is to stay ahead of the curve. That means staying current with the latest technology and design trends. We always want to improve our products or services without breaking the bank. That’s why we stay connected to the latest technologies of NKBA, National Kitchen and Bath Association. In addition, at Vancouver Kitchen renovation, our primary focus is providing sustainable bathroom design and renovation packages, and we believe in sustainable living. Sustainable living is a way of life in harmony with nature. It is a lifestyle which focuses on the preservation of our environment. Sustainable living is a philosophy emphasizing respect for the environment and concern for its well-being. This means we should take care of the planet and treat it as if it were our home. We should try to preserve what we have and protect it from destruction. If we do this, we will enjoy the benefits of the earth’s resources for many generations. Whether you’re planning a major remodel or adding finishing touches to your current bathroom, we’d love to discuss your project. Book your showroom consultation online.

Main Areas of Service in British Columbia:

Vancouver

North Vancouver

West Vancouver

Burnaby

Coquitlam

Squamish

Whistler

Frequently Asked Questions

Are mosaic tiles suitable for a modern bathroom?

You should avoid mosaic tiles in modern design, unless they are used as accent tiles. They can make your bathroom look dated or cluttered. Consider using mosaic tiles to accent your sink, bathtub, and shower.

What is a complete bathroom remodel package?

Depending on the client’s needs, a bathroom remodel package might include several services. These are some of the most common services that may be included:

Bathroom design and consultation

3D rendering of bathroom design

Waterproofing services using the Schluter System

Services for tile setting

Supply and delivery of tiles

Install and supply in-floor heating systems

All plumbing and lighting fixtures are available for delivery.

All plumbing and electrical work done by our licensed electricians and plumbers

The vanity can be delivered, installed, and shipped.

Supply, fabrication and installation of the countertop

Tub or shower glass fabrication and installation

Demolition and removal of fixtures and other materials

Painting and wallpaper services

Which bathroom colour is most in demand for 2023

Benjamin Moore’s pick for the 2023 year’s color in 2023 was revealed as part of its annual Colour Trends collection. It’s called Raspberry Blush. This vibrant, red-orange shade makes us think bold, brightest, and boldest. This bold shade is the foundation for Colour Trends in 2023. Colour Trends 2023 is a collection of vibrant colours that will make a bold statement. Benjamin Moore recruited the electro-funk duo Chromeo to mark the year’s selection and highlight the dynamic role colour has in our everyday lives.

PPG and Glidden surveyed 35 color stylists around the world to determine which colours will be most popular in 2023. Their answers ranged from the obvious — like a return to earthy neutrals — to the unexpected — like a resurgence of neon pink. They found that one common theme in all responses was the importance and necessity of accepting change.

PPG and Glidden named Vining Ivy their shared 2023 Color of the Year. ViningIvy is a bright blend of jewel tones, natural materials. It’s a bridge between present and future, a then and nows exploration of the colour choices made by PPG and Glidden in their market of DIY home painters.

How can you make the bathroom more sustainable?

There are several ways you can make your bathroom more eco-friendly. Installing low-flow fixtures like toilets or showerheads is one way. This will conserve water. A second option is to use environmentally friendly cleaning products. These cleaners are safer for the environment. Also, consider using recycled materials for your bathrooms such as recycled metal or glass. You can make your bathroom more sustainable by making a few simple changes.

What bathroom sinks are in style 2023?

Some bathroom sink styles will become popular in 2023. Here are some of the most loved styles:

The Vessel Sink: This vessel sink is very popular in bathroom remodels. The vessel sink is a stylish and unique option that will make your bathroom stand out.

The Undermount Sink is also a popular choice for bathrooms. They offer a sleek and modern look that can update the look of your bathroom.

The pedestal is another popular option for a bathroom sink. They offer a timeless look that can be elegant and functional in your bathroom.

Integrated sink and countertop: The integrated sink and countertop is a newer trend that has grown in popularity. This option offers a seamless look for your bathroom. Because the sink is integrated into the countertop there is no space between them. This can give your bathroom modern, clean lines.

Whatever style you choose, ensure it matches your bathroom’s overall design. Your bathroom should be a place you feel at home and comfortable. You want to achieve this goal.

Statistics

2023 bathroom design trends: 82% of those surveyed revealed bathrooms are now designed for two-person use. (https://nkba.org)

2023 bathroom design trends: Digital showering allows users to program their preferred flow rate, and the temperature was a 23% preference. 44% wanted the ability to start their showers with their phones. (https://nkba.org)

If possible, allow a 15 to 20% contingency fund so you’re prepared for the unexpected. (loveproperty.com)

2023 bathroom design trends: Large format tiles were favoured by 59% of those surveyed.mSlab surfaces were favoured by 40% of those surveyed. (https://nkba.org)

Keep in mind: they advise that, all told, your bathroom project should cost no more than 5 to 10 percent of your home’s value. (remodelista.com)

2023 bathroom design trends: Heated floors were favoured by a substantial 75% of those who responded to the survey.(https://nkba.org)

This article will reveal more about AntiBac surfaces and how Villeroy and Boch products have 99.9% fewer bacteria. (superbath.co.uk)

With this technology, whether you take a 5-minute or a 50-minute shower, you’ll use the same amount of water, reducing your use up to 90 percent! (elemental.green)

Glass tile is one of the greenest bathroom flooring options because it can be 100% recycled. (caddetailsblog.com)

2023 bathroom design trends: Windows above tubs were favoured by 51% of those surveyed. Skylights were selected by 37% of those surveyed. (https://nkba.org)

WaterSense-labeled bathroom sink faucets use a maximum of 1.5 gallons per minute, reducing water use by 30 percent or more from the standard flow of 2.2 gallons per minute – without sacrificing performance. (elemental.green)

2023 bathroom design trends: Bathroom faucet designs reflected wellness concerns, with 61% choosing accessible lever handles, 48% choosing motion and 36% going for the touch or tap options. (https://nkba.org)

External Links

bhg.com

How to paint bathroom cabinets for an easy vanity upgrade

thespruce.com

How to Buy a New Toilet for Your Home

How To

How to create a beautiful bathroom by yourself

Choose a color combination that complements your home Before choosing a color scheme, make sure you consider how it will complement the rest. You may not want bright colours, such as orange, yellow, or green, in older homes. Opt for more subtle shades, such as blue, gray or white, instead.

You have more options when it comes to bathroom colors if you live in a newly constructed home. If you wish, you can choose brighter colours but only use them sparingly. A brightly-coloured towel rack or accent wall might be enough to give your space some personality.

Make sure there’s plenty of storage space

It is important to ensure there is enough storage space in your bathroom. You need enough storage space to hold towels, soap, makeup brush, and other items in your bathroom.

If you’re short on space, consider adding a medicine cabinet or floating shelves. These will add storage space to your home without taking up much space.

Add Mirrors to Your Home

Mirrors make an excellent addition to any bathroom. Mirrors can be used to look at yourself without you having to leave your powder room. Mirrors come in various sizes and shapes. Mirrors come in different shapes and sizes. Some mirrors can be rectangular while others can be round. You can even find mirrors that are shaped like animals or flowers.

Good Lighting

Lighting is an essential part of your bathroom and requires special attention. There are many factors to consider when adding lighting to your bathroom.

First, you should think about what type of light bulbs are you going to use. You have several options, including LED, halogen, and fluorescent.

Next, choose where you want your light fixtures to be placed. There are many options. You could place them on the ceiling, or on the wall. Your bathroom must have sufficient windows to let in natural lighting. If you do not have enough windows to let in natural light, you might consider adding one.

It is up to you what type of lighting style you prefer. You should make sure the fixtures are suitable for bathroom use. This will ensure that the fixtures can withstand moisture and humidity in the room.

Choose The Right Flooring

The flooring you choose should be slip-resistant and easy to clean. For bathroom flooring, you can choose from porcelain tiles, natural stone or luxury vinyl.

Avoid dark-colored flooring in small bathrooms. This will make the space appear smaller and more cramped. Choose lighter colors such as beige, cream, and white.

Choose your Layout Carefully

The layout of your bathroom is as important than the choice of fixtures and colours. You should consider how you will be using the space when designing your layout.

Avoid putting in a bath tub if your bathroom is small. This will free up some extra space to move around more easily.

You may want to add a double sink in a larger bathroom. This will increase counter space and make it easier to prepare for two people at once.

Once you have an idea of the layout you want, you can start planning. Use a tape measure to determine the dimensions of your room. Next, draw a few layout ideas on graph paper.

Once you have seen several layouts, pick the one that suits your space best.

Remember to ventilate

Proper ventilation is necessary to keep mildew and mould from growing in bathrooms. This is especially important if you live in a humid climate.

Be sure to read the manufacturer’s instructions carefully before installation. Make sure the fan vents well to the outside of your house.

Use quality materials

You should choose high quality materials for your bathroom remodel. High-quality materials will last longer and resist damage better. They may cost more upfront but will save you money in the long run.

Professional Help

Remodeling your bathroom isn’t difficult. It is possible to hire professional contractors to handle the job. Contractors are skilled in handling different aspects of building projects. They can install heating/cooling systems and plumbing wiring. Professional contractors can save you time and money. Additionally, they are experts at each stage of the project.

Enjoy Your New bathroom

After all the planning and hard work, it’s time to enjoy your new bathroom. The final touches include scented candles, fluffy towels, or a plant. These little details will make your bathrooms feel more like home.

Now that you know how to remodel your bathroom, it’s time to start. These are the tips you need to make your bathroom the dream it is.

The post LED Lights in Bathroom first appeared on Vancouver Kitchen Renovation.

source https://vancouverkitchenrenovation.com/bathrooms/led-lights-in-bathroom/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=led-lights-in-bathroom

[dulcewrites]

I know you are not taking requests right now. But when you do, Is it possible that you could, if you are comfortable, to write Austin!Elvis proposing or eloping with black!reader? ❤️

You’re All I Need to Get By

Pairing: austin!elvis x black!reader (wc: 946)

Requested: yes (thank you)

Warnings: age gap, allusions to attachment issues and trauma from his mom’s passing. Honestly this is mostly very fluffy and sweet

A/N: This gonna take place around 1970/1971. Elvis was touring, but y’all are in Memphis during this time. He’s 35/36 while reader is 28. This song came on when I was writing it so I decided to name it after that (I don’t know if this is an unpopular opinion but I think I prefer the Aretha version to the tammi and Marvin one) Also when is tumblr gonna step their pussy game up and do Apple Music instead of Spotify 🤔

Elvis feels sick to his stomach. The type of nauseating gnawing he normally only experiences before performances… and sometimes while he watches a big Steelers game.

The party hasn’t even started yet, and he already doesn’t know what to do with himself. Maybe tonight isn’t the night. Maybe he should hold off, but this ring has been burning a hole in his pockets for months. He can’t chicken out now.

You’re zipping around the room like you always do when you get ready; not able to stay in one place. From the closet to your vanity, to the bathroom because “baby, the lighting is different”. Makeup done but hot rollers in your hair; pink silk robe and fuzzy slippers on.

“Ok, the red or the black,” you hold up two dresses and all Elvis can do is blink at them.

You sigh, picking up on his anxious energy, and stand in front of him between his legs.

“I know what this is about.”

“What,” he says it way too loud, looking up a little alarmed. Oh god, you probably found the ring. He should’ve listened to Jerry and gave it to someone to hold. He’s always been bad at keeping secrets.

“Honey, if the colonel calls you again while you’re taking time to yourself, just hand me the phone,” you push his hair from his forehead. “I’ll sure as hell set him straight.”

He looks up at you heart thumping. How the hell did he get this lucky? He can’t mess tonight up. It’s been four years since you’ve starting dating, and now his life has been split up into two times: before meeting you, and after meeting you.

The days in Hollywood started to blend together before meeting you. He remembers feeling like he got punched in the gut the moment he first saw you. It doesn’t hit him how unhappy he had been until he felt the happiness that comes with being with you. It didn’t take him long to realize he’s willing to go the ends of the earth to keep that happiness.

He remembers how much it took to get you to want to leave your home in California. For him, for this life; he knows it’s not easy.

Despite where and how he was raised, the idea of marriage scares him a little. A family that depends on him scares him. He knows he wants that with you. The forever and always. He thrives off having people he loves around.

But with commitment comes expectations, with expectations comes hard work, and hard work means people getting tired and leaving.

He couldn’t handled another person he loves this much leaving him.

Having this party to celebrate the tour wrapping seemed like a good excuse to have everyone in one place for the proposal. Everyone seems to know but you, which is probably a first for you Elvis thinks. You’re inquisitive and sharp, one of the many things he loves about you.

“I like the black,” you go back to looking in the full-length mirror at the dresses.

The anxious feelings only grow as he watches you continue to get ready. God help him.

“Man, I think it’s time,” Jerry whispers and Elvis swallows hard.

The party has been in full swing for a couple hours now. You two worked the room together before parting ways. Elvis spent a lot of the party working over what he wanted to say in head. Maybe he should’ve written something down.

He looks over at you giggling on the couch with some of the other ladies. Brown skin glittering and smile is bright. He loves you so much it kind of hurts.

“I think the man of the hour has something to say,” Jerry calls out, motioning for the music to get turned down.

Fuck.

A couple people give him knowing and encouraging looks. You flash him a curious smile, tilting your head to the side. In group situations like this, he normally ran what he wanted to say by you. Elvis clears his throat coming to center of the living room.

“I’m realizing why went into music and not speech givin’,” the room laughs at his joke.

He sticks one hand in his pocket fiddling with the ring box out of nervousness.

“First, I should thank everyone who went into helping me with the tour,” Elvis starts. “It was long and exhausting, but we did it.”

His eyes scan the room, giving grateful smiles to everyone. He stops when they get on you.

“And of course, I want to thank my baby,” he says shyly. A round of awes come from the people in the crowd. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you.”

You mouth ‘I love you’ to him. Elvis takes steps towards the couch before letting out a shaky breath. He gets down on one knee and your eyes widen. He pulls the ring box out.

“Yes! Holy shit yes!”

Your immediate reaction garners a cacophony of laughs from room, and Elvis beams.

“I haven’t asked yet,” he laughs.

“Right sorry, keep going,” your smile is so wide, and you’ve slid forward on the couch.

“Honey, will you marry me,” Elvis opens the ring box to reveal a sparking oval cut diamond surrounded by two smaller yellow diamonds. Holy shit was right you think.

“Yes,” you exclaim, and he puts the ring on your finger.

Your friends and family let out cheers and whistles when you two share a long kiss. He pulls you two up into a hug.

“I love Mrs. Presley,” he whispers in your ear.

“I love you more Mr. Presley.”

[lilyofthestyx]

I saw request we’re open for RE8. Could I please have a fem! reader who tries to get rid of Ethan Winters because he keeps causing distress to her wife, Alcina? Please and thank you.

yes. yes you most certainly can have this.

i have been DYING to write about some alcina x fem!reader for the sole reason being that i have NEVER questioned my sexuality so hard since this damn game came out so yeah.

ps: wrote this in first person hope that's okay!

pps: there is some major plot deviation because.... i felt like it. idk. it fit??

DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to own Resident Evil or its characters or plot. CAPCOM please don't come for me.

here you go love >:)

word count: 1.57k

"Girls!" I call, closing the door behind me. "My darlings, I'm home!" Shifting the grip on the parcel of items from the village, I look around.

Usually one of the girls would've answered by now. Bela is usually here to greet me.

She's probably with her mother.

I shrug off my fur coat, handing it to one of the maids. She takes it and lays it over the back of a chair. I can tell by the large, gnarled scar on her forearm who she is "Marienna," I mumble, staring up the stairway. "...where're the girls?"

Marienna's face pales as she stares back at me. Her mouth opens and closes like a trout. "Well?" I snap, "D'you know where they are or-?!"

A crash resounds down the hallway. Alcina's voice tears from her bedroom, followed by a shuddering sob.

I'm hurrying up the stairs in seconds, abandoning the parcel. My body collides with the door- forcing it open.

Our bedroom is destroyed- the vanity broken to pieces. Alcina's soft hands cling to the golden wood, thumb rubbing against the varnish. Slowly, her eyes trail up to me. A smile nearly as broken as the vanity crosses her painted lips. "...I loved this damned mirror," she mumbles, eyes turning down to the broken pieces again.

"What happened, darling?" I coo, stepping over the pieces to stand beside her. My hand on her shoulder, I turn her face gently towards mine. Tears are streaming down her face- leaving jagged streaks of mascara. "Are you alright? What happen-"

Alcina's body tenses under my touch. Trembling, her grip tightens on the wood. It cracks before being wrenching in twain in her hands. "It was that stupid manthing!" She hisses, standing back up to her full height.

"...what 'manthing'?" I ask, "Your brother?"

Alcina ignores me, leaning back down to pluck one of the larger fragments before throwing it across the room. "He laid his filthy paws on our daughters!"

My mind races as it struggles to understand what the hell is happening.

Manthing.

It's not Heisenberg. He'd never lay a finger on the girls.

Some brutish village slug- that's got to be it.

But why? Why on earth would they...?

It doesn't matter.

As Alcina leans down to grab another bit, I grab her hand. "...are... are the girls okay? Where are they?"

A shuddering sigh passes her lips. "...they're all together," she whispers, wiping tears from her face hastily. "Bela... she was... that disgusting beast, he nearly killed her!"

"What?" I mutter, eyebrows drawing together as I step back. "...what... well is she okay? What happened? Is she going to be alright?!"

Alcina sighs again. "...she'll be alright," her hand wraps around mine gently. "Her sisters found her. Brought her to me."

"Where is she now?," I ask, tightening my grip around her finger. "My baby girl... where...?"

Alcina smiles warmly, getting down onto one knee. Her fingers brush back the hair from my eyes. Tears fall quickly down my face as I realize what could've happened if Cassandra and Daniela weren't nearby. "She's with her sisters," she answers gently. "Resting... waiting for her mother to get back with the flowers and silk from the village."

A cold laugh passes my lips before I sniffle. "...her mother should've been there. Should've never left."

Alcina's face tightens. "You can't blame yourself, darling," she mumbles, turning my chin up so I can face her. "No one knew this... Ethan Winters... would be so hideously vindictive."

I nod slowly, wiping the tears from my face. "...can I see her?"

"Of course, my love," she says, leaning in to press her lips to my cheek. "Of course."

The two of us walk down the halls to the center of the house. 'Safest place for her' Alcina had told me.

She had spoken to me the entire way over here, trying to get me out of my own head.

Bless my beloved wife for trying.

But that name. It just keeps buzzing around my mind.

Images of my hands, covered in thick blood, gripping the handle of a sickle play through my head. The blade going through the jugular of this 'Ethan Winters' and popping out the other side. Him desperate for air, choking on his own hot blood, as he watches me loom over him.

His last words will be for mercy.

His last view will be my blade.

My breath is bated as I watch him stalk through the darkness of the courtyard. In the moonlight, I can see is head is down, eyes wary as he keeps a fair grip on his pistol. The cool air lets me see him regulating his breathing- keeping him steady, keeping his pistol steady.

He's experienced.

My grip on my own weapon tightens as he stops in the gazebo. His eyes narrow as he turns around, his pistol raised. I watch in mild amusement as he whirls around, looking for something to shoot.

He's experienced, yes, but still not experienced enough.

I tug the fabric around my face higher along the bridge of my nose. Gripping my sickle, I balance on the balls of my feet.

Ethan finally relaxes, dropping his arms with his back to me.

A small smile creeps along my lips under the mask. A foolish move made by an even more foolish man.

My body slides underneath the stone railings for the stairs leading into the center of the courtyard. Untucking one of the smaller knives from my belt, I pinch it between two fingers and flick my wrist forward.

The knife goes flying- landing right between Ethan's shoulder blades. A guttural yell comes from him as he spins around to face me. In a blink, I'm up in front of him, nose brushing against his.

I can see the fear in his eyes.

I can't help my smile growing beneath the dark fabric.

Ethan raises his hand, pistol in his palm. With a tut of my lips, I shake my head and stab his hand through with my sickle. "...no, no," I mumble as he continues to scream and thrash against my hold. "There'll be none of that, I'm afraid, Mister Winters."

His teeth gritted, he hisses as my sickle is pulled from the inner part of his wrist. A bitter laugh bubbles up from my gut as he stumbles back onto the floor of the gazebo, now holding the pistol in his shaky left hand. "You can't be serious!" I giggle as Ethan pulls the trigger.

A wet squelch hits my ears as the bullet tears into my stomach. I sigh dramatically, looking down at the gushing hole in my dress. "You didn't think I was human- did you?" I ask, twirling the sickle in my hand.

"Wh- what?" Ethan mutters, eyes fixated on the bullet wound in my torso.

"I'm not," I continue, stepping closer to him as he tries to back away. Another gunshot echoes through the courtyard- the bullet landing in my left shoulder. "Not entirely, anyways."

"What the hell are you?!" Ethan yells, firing three more shots. One in the crook of my neck, one just barely grazing my temple, one lodging itself in my hip.

My jaw tightens as I hurry forward, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him back into the center of the gazebo. "I!" I snap, grabbing him again and gripping his wrist. "I... am the mother of the girl you almost killed!"

I pull another knife out of my belt. Trailing it down his lips, I smile. "And the wife... to a woman scorned." With a single swing, the knife digs into the flesh of his palm and nails it to the gazebo.

Ethan yells in pain. As I step back, his other fist cracks across my face. I stumble back. Grabbing at my cheek, I chuckle darkly. "Oh, Ethan," I coo coyly, grabbing my sickle. "You really shouldn't have done that."

I swing and watch with what could only be described as 'glee' as the blade pierces his throat. Covered in blood, the blade glistens crimson in the pale moonlight. Ethan's choked pleas are drowned out by my laughter.

"Why?" is the only word able to leave his lips without being smothered in a gush of blood.

"Because, Mister Winters," I hum, my nose brushing against his as I watch the life in his eyes flicker. "You should never have touched my family."

BONUS ENDING:

"What is that delicious smell?"

I turn around to see Alcina bending down to peek outside. A smile crosses my lips as I gesture to the mutilated corpse with the end of my sickle. "Dinner, my love," I hum, wiping off the blade with the fabric I had used for a mask. "Sorry it's not the cleanest."

Alcina scoffs and waves me off. "It's fine, _________. I'll just go let the girls know their mother brought dinner...," she pauses, eyes flicking over the gushing body. "...who was that? He smells... familiar."

"Just Ethan Winters," I answer nonchalantly.

"...y-you..." Alcina stammers, eyebrows weaving together and lips pursing. "You... when did you-?"

"He must've been tired," I continue with a small smile. "He was not nearly as difficult a kill as I thought he'd be."

"...I'll... I'll be going now."

"Okay, love," I chirp, "I'll drag him in in a second. Love you!"

Alcina's eyes are still wide, mouth slightly agape as she steps away from the doorway. "...love you too... darling."

can you tell i had a lot of fun with this?

yeah. because i did.

i hope you enjoyed! writing lady d is so much freaking fun i kid you not.

big vampy lady make brain go brr

[rey-is-not-a-skywalker]

Noctis Lucis Caelum- SFW alphabet

First piece of writing on here let's gooo- Feel free to request anything! I don't have a list of things that I write for yet, but just pop it in my ask box and I'll see what I can do- please don't let this flop 💚

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

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Noctis isn't really one for very open affection, around others the best he will do is holding hands or exchanging a few smiles here and there- but alone, he will happily sit with you and play games on your phones together, maybe even a few snuggles.

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Noctis would be an amazing best friend, as long as you don't mind sarcastic remarks and sometimes having to deal with his slight temper tantrums. He will do anything to save your life, though. He'd take a bullet for you if needs be.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He isn't big on cuddles. Snuggles, and hugs, he's mostly okay with, but cuddles... he just doesn't know what fo do with himself if he finds himself in the situation.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

He doesn't mind settling down for a while, but listen, there's a reason Ignis is the one one cooks. Noctis cannot cook at all. Last time he tried, he burned the food. And it was a soup.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd try to let you down slowly, he doesn't want to hurt your feelings, but he'd end up digging himself into a deeper hole. It'd probably sound something like this: "Listen, I... I think we should go our separate ways... It's not that I don't like you, or anything... it's just-"

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

He has no real opinion on it- but he'd happily get married to you if you asked. If it meant you could spend the rest of your lives together, how could he say no?

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Usually, he's not the most gentle person, but he will try to be if he sees that you're upset or in pain. He will often use a softer tone of voice with you, and may touch your shoulder to comfort you.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

Like I said- he doesn't mind hugs, so long as they are short, and not in front of everyone. He doesn't like hugging for too long bec as se he finds it awkward, but in a heartfelt moment, it doesn't kill him to embrace you from time to time.

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

It takes a long time. It's not that he doesn't want to say it, it's just that he finds it awkward. He'll only say the L word in a heartfelt moment, or when if it's a very special occasion.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Now, Noctis isn't really one to get jealous, heck, he might even find himself catching feelings for a few others while he's with you, but he always remains loyal to you and expects you to do the same.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are usually short, and simple. He likes to kiss you in the most romantic places, you lips, your cheeks, and forehead are his favorite. He likes to be kissed on the back of his hands, and loves to get lost in your eyes as you. He will happily accept whatever affection you have for him.

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

This man is amazing around children, but only the older ones. Probably about eight plus- he isn't the best with babies and todlers. To be honest, he couldn't know what to do with them.

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

It will take him a while to actually get out of bed, but in the meantime he will put his arm around you and stare into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Nothing special. Usually he will stay up late and play board games or games on his phone while eating a delicious Ignis cooked meal.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?

Really not a lot. Sometimes, when he's really upset, he'll vent to you, and only you. He doesn't like other people listening, and he knows he can trust you with his secrets.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Though he's usually chilled out, Noct can be angered very easily. He will start yelling, and maybe even draw a weapon on what's making him angry. His movements will also become snappy, and he will be more prone to breaking things.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

He remembers a lot about you. Your name, your age, your favourite things to do and eat, but he can't for the life of him remember anything truly personal about you. He does tend to remember a few things you vent to him about, though.

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

When you two went to Altissa, and had a ride on the gondolas all around the city. You even had some of the world-famous ice cream with you, along with a moogle plushie. He will never forget your hair blowing in the breeze. That to him is his idea of a date.

S - Security (How protective are they?)

This man is very protective. He will not let anything harm you. He will try his very very best to do anything he can to protect you, and if harm ever came to you, he'd blame no-one but himself.

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

He does try, for the most part. If someone gives him a mission, he isn't one to back down. He will try his best to make you happy, and will spend all the gil in the world if you were happy because of it.

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

His posture. He stands with his back arched and his hips forward, which can be very bad for him in the long run. His father told him countless times to fix his posture, but he never got around to it.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He really doesn't care much how he looks. He might be a king, but his looks aren't a factor in how he rules, right?

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Very much so. Nothing would feel the same if you dissapeared, and he wouldn't know what to do with himself, and he'd have to have some sense knocked into him by Gladio.

X - Xtra (Random HC)

He loves to impress you- be it with his unique fighting style, or with his amazing fishing skills. He also makes sure to catch the best fish he can, and he loves it when you cook his fish for him. He'll happily sit with you and enjoy the meal.

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

He hates people who try to hurt him, or his friends/partner. He also doesn't like vegetables, and if you try to make him eat his greens, likelihood is, he'll just warp away from you. Far away.

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

It usually takes him ages to get to sleep. Sometimes he'll be up all night fighting daemons, and getting gil. When he does sleep, it may only be for a few hours. He goes to sleep late, and wakes up early, and the others have to practically drag them out of the tent or bed.

[spitpr1ncess]

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 1 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

                                               (not my image)

“You’re too pretty for this, little girl” remarks your current company. You roll your eyes and have to hold in the audible sigh that almost escapes you. How many times you have heard the same drivel? If you were too pretty, they wouldn’t continue the silent abuse on your body, would they?

You’ve been a working girl since you barely had the ability to think for yourself. You were plucked from your poverty-stricken family with the promise of their debts being written off.

You aren’t special and your family don’t care about you, a lie you’d been telling yourself for twenty two long years. You are a slab of meat and a source of income, that’s all, and believing yourself to be more was a stupid mistake you’d learned not to make, assuming people actually cared about you had caused you more pain than any physical abuse you’d ever endured.

You’re snapped back to reality as a pair of hands paw clumsily at your breasts, you inhale and remind yourself that this is only a temporary situation, but until you figure out how, you must continue to appease the men that Jools sends your way.

Jools is like your older brother, if your older brother worked in a brothel and openly encouraged men to fuck his slightly younger sister. The two of you share an intimate relationship built on a strong foundation of sharing trauma, you know he means well.

Jools was taken around the same time you were, only, as he managed to flourish into a promising young man, he was favoured by boss, and thus, promoted. You and Jools have always seen eye to eye, his depressing background is in servicing men, just like yours and it’s how you built your relationship, why you share such a deep understanding of each other, such mutual respect. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the other girls, and as a mean result, ensures that you are on the less favourable end of their antics, often being the brunt of their absolute frustrations and jokes.

As head of appointments and bookings, alongside other things, he always tries to send you the easy ones, if Boss knew he favoured you, you’re sure Jools would be sacked, or worse, effective immediately. You’re eternally thankful that he chooses to throw you a bone, even if it doesn’t seem much to him, it means the world to you.

Your mindless wandering halts once again, as you make unfavourable eye contact with your unwelcome company, you notice he is grunting as he roughly palms his own erection with his bear-like hands, staring holes through you as he directs his dirty glare at your breasts. Without thinking you grasp his knees and push your elbows to meet, forcing your breasts to squash together in that specific way that the male gaze loves so much, accentuating their plumpness. You are the first to admit that although sex is something that is daily to you, you are a very sexual soul by nature. You love the affect you have on men, and how you can practically melt them down to nothingness in the palm of your soft hand. You’re certain it comes from the trauma that is deep rooted in your hunger for male validation

The man sat in front of you isn’t the smallest you’ve seen but he isn’t particularly well endowed either, weighing up your current circumstances, you decide to make the most of it. Standing up, you lick your lips and undo the tie to your virginal white skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground quietly. It crumples in a small pile and feverishly you step out of it, feigning nervousness. You take your willing participants bear-paw off his own erection and place is gently on the arm of his chair, straddling him, you centre yourself and gently lower down to allow your warmth to press against him. Instinctually, he grunts and pushes back, his actions clumsy and annoying yet you allow it, not wanting to anger him, the men you service are big businessmen and you know better than to piss one off. You have seen first-hand the damage they can and do cause. You let him believe he has control, you grind back and nuzzle into his neck, playing him like a game, inhaling, you pick up on cigarette smoke and some notable cologne brand, nothing out of the ordinary.

You kiss his neck, breathing over his ear, begging him to enter you, you are not stupid, the way you make men feel, like you are infatuated, like there is nothing else you need at that moment than them, always gets you tipped. And tips go straight to your pocket, and any tips that go straight to your pocket, go straight to your running-away-savings. As he clumsily lines up his erection, you lift yourself onto your elbow to assist him in his feeble attempt at entering you, you feel his tip pressed right up against you, simultaneously, you kiss him and sheath yourself entirely. It isn’t anything notable and is in fact somewhat disappointing, nevertheless, you continue to finish the job.

You inhale sharply to sell the fantasy. He grunts again, like some half dead animal, you cringe trying your hardest to not let on as you know that his tips will make the effort worth it. Like a wet dream he was having, you bounce yourself up and down, in and out, in and out, in and out. It isn’t long before you see his head fall back and he stiffens below you, he opens his mouth and grabs your ass, hard. You squeal as you feel his hot seed lacing your insides, you feign your own orgasm, making your legs shake as if you had to convince him like your life depended on it. He buys it; dirty talking you and asking various lewd and cringey questions that make you shudder, if it weren’t for you writhing on top of him, he might have picked up on it. You kiss him before finding your feet, passing him a napkin as he sheepishly cleans himself off, only now feeling shy and vulnerable. He stands and pulls his trousers up; buckling his belt quickly, he then reaches into his breast pocket, he pulls out a stack of fifties, he throws a couple on the floor by your feet. He is trying to regain his masculinity, uncomfortable about looking into your eyes, you used to let it upset you, only you are used to it, each man having the same reaction.

He leaves and you lock the door tight behind him, you tidy up, wiping the chair and cleaning away any fluid that may have made its way to places it doesn’t belong. You wander towards your bathroom; the wooden floor feels cold but welcome on your ever tired feet. You stare into the mirror; a few tears had escaped your eyes without your noticing, it was a pretty normal occurrence for you now.

You glance in the mirror and notice that she is foreign, the girl staring back. Her long brown hair pulled over one shoulder, bruises lacing her frail body, you gently trace a finger over her body and look down to see your body. It is like you are disconnected, her body has not been your body for a long time. You wipe your eyes and turn your shower on, you hop in as it is still running cold.

You inhale sharply. It hurts, and the excruciating pain is welcome, you allow your bare back to fall silently against the wall and slowly lower yourself. You protect your knees with your arms as you grasp them toward you and lay your head between the makeshift protection you have created. Loud sobs escape your lungs as if they'd been brewing for a century.

A long while passes and you don’t hear the door unlocking.

Jools lets himself in, he hears your measly sobs coming from the bathroom and heads toward them, he slides open the shower door, startled, you jump up and let out an ugly shriek, Jools looks at you, pathetic, slim, bruised and sobbing. His head falls to one side as you try to somewhat protect your modesty. Jools has seen everything you have, and you, him, yet it still feels embarrassing and intimate.

“Olive.”, his voice is cool, patient, and laced with a little sympathy, “What am I going to do with you?”, he steps into the shower, allowing his clothes to get sprayed with water, you turn to him and press your forehead to his.

“I am sorry Jools; my emotions are all over the place. I will be ready in ten minutes, just allow me to clean up”, your voice sounds tired and you let out a little sigh. Jools places a hand on your shoulder and gently turns you around. You have been each other’s comfort in such a long life of trauma and you know what is coming next, he picks up your shampoo and lathers some between his hands, he rubs his fingertips into your scalp, scrubbing the dirt of the day out of your hair.

His touch is welcome, if not a little alien. It is rare these days that a pair of hands aren’t grabbing, pulling, pinching or pushing you around, you let out a long sigh, letting go of the anxiety and slowing your heart rate, you close your eyes and allow yourself to be cared for. By the time Jools finishes showering you he is soaked, you both step out into your bedroom. You pull on your skirt and replace your corset, a “uniform” as far as Boss is concerned. You hate it, making you feel vulnerable and cheap, you would rather slip on a t-shirt and shorts, or a loose dress.

Jools discarded all his clothes sans boxers and made himself comfortable on your bed as you were stood contemplating. You stare at him, with his light brown, almost ashy blonde hair. He is handsome, you have always thought this, you just never placed you two together, with him acting the “older brother” for all intents and purposes.

Jools breaks the silence, “Your four o’clock has cancelled, it’s what I came here to tell you” he pats the bed next to him and smiles “come and sit, unless you’re going somewhere”.

You pause momentarily before undoing your skirt again, you let it fall to the ground before reaching for a pair of linen shorts sat on your vanity, pulling them on, you take a few steps before collapsing on the bed next to Jools in complete exhaustion. “I’m tired of fucking the same men Jools” you remark.

“The same men, with the same predictable sex routines, the same sized cocks, the same moves. I’m bored. I’m climbing up the walls, Jools. Throw me a bigger bone, I’m begging you.”, You feel Jools eyes on your face, you let your head fall and meet his gaze. He snorts and pulls himself closer to you. You slide your body next to his and he drapes and arm over your waist.

Your foreheads touching, you lay in comfortable silence for a while. You close your eyes miss him protectively watching over you.

“I’m not sure what I can do for you Ol, unless you want me to fuck you myself. We don’t have much new clientele and any we do have seem like the abusive type, so I deliberately don’t send them your way.” he laughs. You ponder his first sentence, unable to tell if he was joking. You try your luck and shift your weight so you’re straddling him.

“Wh.. what the fuck are you doing Ol?”, You decide that he didn’t mean it, judging by his response. You begin to tickle his sides and he goes bright red before kicking you off, you land on the wooden floor with a loud bang.

“OW. That fucking hurt you fuck.” You stand up and cross your arms like a grumpy child. Jools looks at you and sticks out his tongue, you both pause, waiting for the other to break. It is you who laughs first, shortly followed by Jools who snorts, like a little pig. You can’t stay mad at him, he is so sweet, and you started it, after all.

“I was thinking Jools. If you have some time this afternoon, maybe we could go for a walk?” Your schedule was usually so full you don’t have time to visit outside. It was the beginning of the spring too, so everything was just starting bloom, it was one of the things that gave you a little peace and hope.

“I can’t Ol, I can’t leave the others unattended, in case anything happens, you know the rules” his voice holds a little sadness and disappointment, you can tell he’d like nothing more.

“Maybe I can open up a space for you this weekend? Then we can go out together?” Jools doesn’t work weekends; part of his promotion demands of course, but you did.

“Weekend rates are higher and I rea..” Jools cuts you off.

“I will charge one of your regulars more in the week; I’ll make it up for you, pleaaase?” he draws out.

You look at his face and the little boisterous glint in his eyes. You ruffle his hair like a little boy and laugh.

“Sure thing.”, You reply.