#you fucking said he was mine if we split. MULTIPLE FUCKING TIMES.

[highwayphantoms]

lmfao i send my dog to daycare so he can have some time around other dogs and of course NOW i get smacked with bitterness about shit from four fucking years ago

[diobrando]

this bitch is so flakey man it’s getting on my nerves

[strayed-quokka]

babydoll || ji changmin || masterlist

↳ Changmin isn’t popular nor is he rich, whereas you run on the other end of the spectrum, spoilt and living on your dads credit card. when you’re tasked with kicking him out of the biggest party of your year, you come to realise he’s not all that bad. unfortunately, falling in love with the ji changmin is your one way ticket to social suicide.

↳ pairing: ji changmin x female reader + ex lee juyeon x female reader

!!! this is not a love triangle !!!

~ rating: NC-17 minors please do not interact with this work

↳ genre: enemies to acquaintances to reluctant friends to lovers, slowburn, drama, angst, happy end but it takes a long ass time, rich girl broke ass uni boy

~ warnings: high society bitch of a reader, an unadressed eating disorder (limited), drug use, sex while on drugs, a lot of sex (will add individual warnings to chapters), sex with juyeon, maybe you fuck him twice, sex while high, taller reader with longer hair but no colour description for the plot, jokes and implied tone about death/wanting to die (not meant), obsession with weight and beauty standards, juyeon is manipulative and toxic, emotional abuse, physical abuse (not reader and not in detail), everyone needs therapy, past self harm (not reader, not in detail, descriptions of scars), deep self loathing and insecurities, bullying, changmin calls reader little doll, reader wants to look like a doll, nicknames such as darling and princess, classism

!!! if I missed anything or I remember something else I will add it to the general warnings. there’s a lot of drama but it isn’t as dark as the warnings probably imply it to be, but it also isn’t a light read.

↳ words: 70k + blame the slow burn

a/n: this was meant to be a 20k one shot then changmin said sike so I had to split it up into multiple parts so that tumblr wouldn’t break because it said it would 💔 this is dedicated to @sanaxo-o because she’s never given up on this fic even when I wanted to throw it out the window. no one loves babydoll more than her. thank you @mosviqu for reading this every night when I add a little extra and make you hate juyeon and thank you @sungbeam for the banner cause mine was clearly trash.

I joke that I’ll retire once I’m done posting every part of this fic but we all know that’s a lie. I did pour all my energy into this though so please be nice to me or say nothing at all LMAO. again, I wanna disclaimer that there are some specific physical attributes to this reader which I usually avoid doing but for the story itself it was necessary.

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist 🩵 started: 25.7.24

~ teaser

~ act i

~ act ii

~ act iii

↳ i aim for just three chapters if tumblr allows it but depending on final length this might have to change

©️strayed-quokka, please do not steal, translate, reuse or rewrite as your own

[purrrrplecats]

oh no i found it

the in correct quote generato-

(there a lot so if you don't want to read lots don't click keep reading)(theres loads i think 50-)

Scar: Grian and I are so close we even share a toothbrush. Grian: We what?

(he appoligised abt the joke later on.)

Mumbo: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Grian: Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Scar: Yeah? Grian: Bitch.

Mumbo: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Grian: No… not really. Mumbo: Are you going to do something about it? Grian: Hm… nah.

Grian: Your future self is talking shit about you right now. Scar: Jokes on them. I'll ruin their fucking life.

Pearl: If looking good was a crime, you’d be a law abiding citizen.

Pearl: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Grian: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Pearl: gasps whErE???!!!??

Impulse: So I have made the decision to trust you. Grian: A horrible decision, really.

Grian: Gem, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? Gem: No, it’s mine. Grian: It… looks just like the one I have… Gem: You don’t have one like this anymore.

(its and mug with pink and blue snails on it.)

Gem: This should be illegal! Pearl: It is.

Pearl: Okay, let's split 'em up and make 'em sing. Impulse: Two of you take Gem, the other two take Grian. Scar: Right. Bad cop, good cop. Mumbo: You know, it's interesting that they say "bad cop, good cop," because policing in this country is so broken it's really just "bad cop, bad cop". Impulse: Scar, you're with them. Scar: Got it.

Grian: Norwegia. Is. Not. A. COUNTRY! Scar: Then where are Norwegian people from!? Impulse: NORWAY!!

Impulse: Would you slap Pearl- Grian: Yes. Impulse: I didn't even finish! Grian: Sorry, continue. Impulse: Would you slap Pearl for 10 dollars? Grian: I would do it for free. Pearl: Rude…

(you could also swap Grian and Pearl around because I mean, SKYLINGS)

Grian: If you want my advice- Pearl: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times. Grian: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me. Scar: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

Scar, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Impulse: But how- Scar, ignoring them: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Gem: I am strong! I beat Grian at arm wrestling! Impulse: Anyone can beat Grian at arm wrestling! Grian: Hey-

(sure Impulse sure-)

Gem: Grian, I am nothing if not a Woman of principle. Gem: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Pearl: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Gem: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

(again you could swap them around)

Pearl: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Mumbo: Those are Pokemon cards. Pearl: You got a magikarp. Mumbo: … Pearl: It means 'fuck you'.

Grian: Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere Gem: Where did you get that? Grian: My pocket. Gem: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Grian: Skills.

Scar: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little shit’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Scar: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

Impulse: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE! Impulse: SCAR IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW! Impulse: GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T !

Gem: Hey Pearl, check out this funny .GIF I found! Pearl: It’s pronounced “jif”. Gem: Huh? Pearl: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Gem: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Pearl: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Gem: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Pearl: It’s exactly the same! Gem: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Pearl: Gentrification. Gem: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Pearl: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Gem: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Gem: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Pearl: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Gem: Huh. Didn’t know that. Gem: You’re still wrong, though. Pearl: You just hate me because I’m right. Gem: I just hate you in general. Pearl: You mean in “geh-neral”? Gem: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Scar: What's worse than a heartbreak? Grian: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Mumbo: Waking up in the morning. Gem: Waking up.

Scar: I love you. Grian: Me too.

Grian: Fight me! Scar: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Scar: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

Pearl: What’s your favorite color? Gem: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature. Pearl: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP? Gem: My favorite color is pink.

Grian: Do you love me? Mumbo: We’re literally married. Grian: Yeah, but as friends or—

(logic is that Waffle duo got married as a bit like Clingy duo (Tubbo and Tommy) but G is like Tommy and doesn't want to get a divorce because he wants to commit it the bit.)

Grian: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Pearl: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Grian: They're not. Pearl: Haha, very funny. Grian: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Pearl: No… what happened? Grian: …Why would you fall for this again-

Scar: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Gem: Bees? Scar: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Gem: Wait- Impulse approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly

Scar: Mx. Grian, I accidentally dropped my seed into my mouth and then I accidentally ate it. Am I going to have a lemon tree grow inside my belly? Grian: Well, let's think about it. Did you also swallow a wet paper towel? Scar: Yes. Grian: Grian: Alright, let's go to the nurse.

Grian: Some people are like slinkies. Pearl: What? Grian: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs. Pearl: Pearl: Please don't push Scar down the stairs. Grian, pushing Scar down the stairs: Too late.

Pearl: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Scar: When have I been paranoid? Pearl: Um, when you first met Gem you thought they were an undercover cop…? Scar: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Pearl: And last year you were sure Impulse was a mermaid! Scar: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! Later, when Scar’s theory is proven wrong Pearl: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Scar: I still think Impulse is a mermaid.

Grian: Scar, Pearl keeps bullying me at school. Scar: Ask your teacher for help. The next day… Grian, to their teacher: Will you help me beat up Pearl?

Pearl: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

Scar: Being gay isn't a choice. It's a game and I'm winning.

(same quote 2 times in a row!?!?!)

Impulse, near tears: Please, Grian, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is!

Gem: I need to dye my hair. Impulse: … Gem: Or get another tattoo. Impulse: … Gem: Or a new piercing. Impulse: Why? Gem: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

Grian: aggressively throws pencil at Scar Grian, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

(Double Life = soulmates)

Scar : So you like cats? Grian: Yeah. Scar : tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table

Impulse: What have you done with Scar ?

Grian: Nothing. Why, do you think I should?

Pearl: Scar , let’s go! Grian : Oh, yeah, about telling Mom and Dad, I was thinking about writing maybe a letter. Pearl: Okay, you know what? That’s it, you had your chance. Grian : What-? Pearl: Mom, Dad, Scar smoked pot in college. Grian : You are such a tattletale! Grian : Mom, Dad, you remember that time you walked into my room and smelled marijuana? Well, I told you it was Jimmy who was smoking the pot but… It was me. I’m sorry. Pearl: And Dad, you know that mailman that you got fired? He didn’t steal your Playboy’s, Grian did. Grian : Yeah, well, hurricane Gloria didn’t break the porch swing Pearl did. Pearl: Grian hasn’t worked for a year! Grian : Pearl and Gem are living together! Pearl: Grian married Scar in Vegas and got divorced AGAIN! Jimmy: I love Jacques Cousteau! Etho: I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle! Doc: I wanna gooo!!

(I changed some names, aka added Doc, Etho and Jimmy, also Etho is the mum Docs the dad, and Tim is ofc the younger brother.) (the family situation is defo not from TTSBC)

Mumbo: I will send my army to attack! Mumbo: releases a dumpster of raccoons

Gem, throwing their head into Pearl's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Pearl, lovingly stroking their hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

(awwwwww)

Squad is playing Among Us Grian: I believe Pearl is innocent, I was with them the whole time. Mumbo, what were you doing? Mumbo: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

(I was gonna change Pearl to Scar and change Mumbo to Impulse because Impulsetor)

Pearl, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Grian: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

[mosylufanfic]

A Mere Trifle

My first contribution to Rebelcaptain Fluffbruary! The prompt I went with was "dessert."

A Mere Trifle

Bodhi opened the fridge. "Oooooh," he said in delight. His roommate made sweets and desserts to relax, and Bodhi was usually the beneficiary.

"Don't you fucking touch the fucking trifle!" Jyn yelled from another room.

"Why not?" he yelled back, but set the bowl of trifle back where he'd found it.

"Because I'm saving it for poker night, you glutton."

Bodhi raised his brows at nothing. Poker night was at theirs tomorrow night, and while most everyone brought food, it was more along the lines of grocery-store chips and dip. Not a dessert of multiple layers and steps and approximately thirty thousand calories. 

He grabbed the leftover Chinese instead, gave it a sniff, and concluded it probably wasn't going to kill him. Eating beef and broccoli out of the container, he went to the other room where Jyn scowled at the computer screen full of her photos that she was working on. "Not even a nibble?" he asked pitifully.

"Nope."

He licked sauce off his thumb. "It's got all berries and whipped cream and custard. You seriously expect me to resist?"

"Yes, I do, or I'll shave your head in your sleep."

Bodhi put a protective hand over his ponytail. "You're a cruel woman, Jyn Erso."

She bit her thumbnail, narrowing her eyes at two virtually identical images of an empty lot. She twiddled a setting and suddenly the tiny yellow flowers blooming amongst the lanky dried grass burst into focus. "You've known that for years," she said. 

-

Poker night started around seven, or whenever enough people straggled in to get a decent game going. Bodhi expected the trifle to come out as they set up the table and pulled mismatched chairs in from all over the house. But only the two party subs that Jyn had picked up on her way home from work made an appearance. 

"It's got to stay chilled," Jyn claimed when he asked about it. 

"Uh . . . huh," he said, but had to go answer the door before he could needle the truth out of her.

It was Melshi, who came armed with various chips. "You ready to lose?" he crowed, setting a bag of tortilla chips next to the subs.

"No, but you'd better be," Bodhi told him. 

"Big talk. Beers in the fridge?" Melshi asked.

"Yup."

He opened the door, grabbed a beer off the door, and paused. "Holy shit, Jyn, did you make that?"

Jyn was across the room in a split second, smacking his hand. "Don't touch!"

"Why not?" he whined, cradling his hand.

"Cos I said so." She slapped the door closed. "Go stuff your face with a sandwich. Veggie's on the left side."

Melshi sighed heavily and went to pile his slice of veggie sub high with peppers and mayo.

Leia and her brother came in next, then Kay, then Luke's truck-driver friend, Han, and his large, hairy roommate, Chewie, and then Shara and Kes from down the hall. About half of them mentioned the trifle, and every time, Jyn refused to let them get it out.

It didn't escape Bodhi's notice that Jyn's head snapped around every time the door opened. It also didn't escape his notice that Cassian Andor, who worked at the paper where Jyn sometimes picked up photo gigs, wasn't there yet.

People skipped poker night for work, holidays, hot dates, classes, and exhaustion. Usually they put it in the group text. Bodhi checked his phone. 

"Nobody's canceled," Jyn said without looking at her own.

"Right," Bodhi said, grinning to himself, and arranged his bingo chips. "Okay, who won the last game at Han and Chewie's?" 

"Me," Kes said, raising his hand, and taking the deck to deal. 

Two rounds in, Jyn was looking very downcast, but she still snarled like a Doberman whenever anybody went near the fridge. 

"We ever gonna get some of that dessert?" Han whispered to Bodhi.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Bodhi whispered back.

The doorknob rattled, and Jyn got half out of her chair before the door opened. She sat back down as Cassian came in. "Hey," he said, brushing snow out of his hair. 

"Hey," Jyn said casually. "Thought you weren't going to make it."

"Sorry," he said, shrugging out of his coat. "I kept thinking I was almost done with the article and then I wasn't. How much has Melshi lost?"

Melshi flipped him off. 

"Not enough yet," Jyn said, and got Melshi's finger next. "Did you get anything to eat?"

"No, and I'm dying. Tell me there's something left."

She waved a hand at the subs, mostly decimated on the counter. He put one of each kind on his plate and added mustard, then piled the rest of his plate high with potato chips and the baby carrots that Luke had brought. 

"Should be beers in the fridge," she added. "Oh, and I forgot about a dessert I left in there, can you get it out?"

"Ohhh!"

"So he gets some of that first?"

"I see how it is, Erso!" 

"That's who it was for?"

"Well well well!"

Jyn scowled. "Okay, the lot of you can go fuck yourselves."

"What?" Cassian asked, popping his head up over the fridge door and looking at all of them quizzically. 

"Nothing," Jyn said. "Everybody here is a fucking moron, that's all. You find it?"

"With all the whipped cream? Wow," he said, pulling it out. "This looks amazing, Jyn. Is this the thing you were telling me about last week? Whatsits. Trifle?"

"Oh, yeah, it is," Jyn said as if it was a massive coincidence.

He looked at her for a moment, a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "I can't believe it survived this long with these animals."

Melshi opened his mouth, then yelped as if a Doc Marten had met his shin with force. 

"Well, like I said, I forgot about it," Jyn said. 

Bodhi looked across the table at her and mouthed, You're so full of shit. She ignored him, a blush spreading up her face. 

Cassian sat down next to her, juggling his plate of sandwiches and a serving of trifle in a bowl. "This is really good," he said with his mouth full. "I mean, really. Wow." He nudged Luke. "Get some of this, it's incredible."

"Thanks," Jyn said, shrugging, dealing the next hand. "It was nothing."

FINIS

[castaway-achlys]

Welcome to the Blog!

Color Key!

Who is who?

Admin will speak in red, and posts will be tagged as "admin speaks."

Castor will speak in blue, and posts will be tagged as "castor speaks."

Pollux will speak in pink, and posts will be tagged as "pollux speaks."

If two of us are speaking at once, the colors will be split on the text, and the two people tagged! For example: "Hello to everyone!"

Disclaimers!

Important things to read in this section are purple and bold.

This is a multi-ship blog, meaning that any of my characters can (and likely will) date multiple people. That being said, those relationships will not intersect with each other.

Admin and their characters are 18+, and this blog can contain mentions of alcohol, drugs, NSFW, and other adult type content. Posts that do will be tagged accordingly as "tw (insert thing)". For example, "tw drugs". The exception to this rule is NSFW, which will be tagged as "castaway from public." I follow the 18 and over rule regarding my characters and substances, but you do you!

Pollux is not the main character on the blog. The blog will focus on Castor.

Almost all posts will be in lowercase, which is intentional.

Almost all tags will contain a period/full-stop, which is also intentional.

Posts may contain swear words. These will not be tagged. I am not your parent.

Follows, asks, and likes will not come from here, as it is a side blog. If I reply to something on the wrong account, please let me know before I make a fool of myself.

Asks will always be colored to match the color key, and signed as "— (insert person) (@castaway-achlys)"

Private messages will be out of character unless otherwise discussed.

Actions can be done as short form or as full sentences, and will always appear within asterisks.

Castor and Pollux are based off Greek mythology, but are not 100% true to the tales. They are based mostly around the mythical creature Orthrus, and the Dioscuri, Pollux and Castor.

Their last name, Achlys, can be pronounced as ack-liss or ack-lees.

If you're an anonymous frequenter of the blog, please sign off as something, a name or emoji or anything you'd like, so that we can keep track of you! The boys and I do enjoy making friends!

For both our mental health, mine and yours, if we do something to offend you, please let us know so that we can have a mature conversation about it. Admin and you, not the characters, lol.

Rules!

Rules and regulations to abide by!

First and foremost, don't be fucking weird (in a bad way).

Pro-shippers, MAPs, racists, homophobes, transphobes, etc. Do not interact.

If you're a minor, don't interact with anything NSFW that I post. Doing so will result in you being blocked or having me barge into your messages to scold you. Or both. You have been warned.

Other OCs, canon characters, etc, are absolutely welcome, please feel free to interact with me! I don't bite.

You can spam my messages if we're friends or mutuals, even if we're just acquainted. I don't really care, just try not to spam my inbox or vent without asking me if I'm okay with such things. I'm usually fine with vents, but I really can't always handle someone else's mental health as well as my own.

Please be respectful to everyone!

Please use tone tags if asked, and don't be alarmed if I message you for any clarification on things. Tone is hard to read on the internet.

Please do not involve any of us in drama, plotted or not, without notifying us or asking if it's okay first.

These rules can be added to at any time, but I'll try to announce if I make any edits!

About Admin!

Important things about the Admin!

Admin is 22 years old.

Admin is non-binary, pansexual, and polyamorous.

Admin uses they/he pronouns, and would appreciate if you used them when appropriate.

Admin has diagnosed ADHD, and most likely, undiagnosed autism.

Admin is an omnipotent being of sorts. They can interact with Castor and Pollux, as well as other people/characters within Twisted Wonderland.

Admin does not have a physical form that is visible to Twisted Wonderland inhabitants, he appears as a voice that just occasionally interacts and comments on things.

Admin can't be killed or harmed by anyone in Twisted Wonderland, and yes, this means you, Malleus Draconia.

Admin simply just is, and will occasionally pop in, most commonly in the tags.

About Castor Achlys!

Important things about Castor!

Castor is 18 years old, and born on May 22 under the star sign of Gemini.

Castor is the older twin out of him and Pollux.

Castor is transgender, female to male.

Castor uses he/him pronouns, but tolerates they/them if the person is a stranger.

Castor is pansexual, but if you ask him about his sexuality, he has no idea. He is able to love anyone, regardless of gender, genitalia, etc, if given the chance.

Castor is from the Ignihyde dorm and specializes in technology.

Castor is a first year, chosen by the mirror at 18.

Castor is a genius and extremely fast learner.

Castor's main focus and hobby is gaming, where his username is Castaway, hence the blog name.

Castor is extremely fond of animals, especially cats.

Castor has an immense amount of strength, an inhuman sense of smell and hearing, and is very fast.

Castor is only 5 feet, or 152cm, tall.

Castor has bright pink eyes and dark blue hair.

Posts will be made containing his appearance and more, which will be linked here as soon as they are up!

Castor's backstory.

Castor's Partners!

Suitors? Pspspsps.

♡ Archie — @nightonthemountain — June 2, 2024 — castor's north star. 🧭

♡ Che'nya — @your-local-grinning-cat — June 27, 2024 — castor's kitty. 🌙

About Pollux Achlys!

Important things about Pollux!

Pollux is 18 years old, and born on May 22 under the star sign of Gemini.

Pollux is the younger twin out of him and Castor.

Pollux is a cisgender male.

Pollux uses he/him mostly, but any pronouns are fine with him. Call him whatever you'd like! He is comfortable in his gender identity and doesn't believe that pronouns are indicative or equal to one's gender.

Pollux is bisexual, but has a preference for men (transgender inclusive-- transgender males are males too!)

Pollux doesn't attend Night Raven College, but if he did, he would want to be in Pomefiore.

Pollux, unlike his brother, learns things at a much slower and normal speed, and does not excel at most academics. He does enjoy learning, though, and is intelligent in his own right. (School and standardized testing is not a good measure of intelligence.)

Pollux is the one who introduced Castor to games, and plays them a lot with him. It is also his main hobby. At this time, Admin has not given him a clever username.

Pollux doesn't have a favorite animal, but enjoys bees a lot.

Pollux is also strong, but has a normal sense of smell and hearing, and isn't the fastest due to his size. He is not overweight, just a bit lanky and very tall.

Pollux is 6 feet and 1 inch, or 185cm, tall.

Pollux has features opposite to Castor-- in that he has dark blue eyes and light pink hair.

Pollux does involve himself with weed frequently, so if you're uncomfortable with that, please block the tag "tw drugs" for us! Don't worry, he's responsible! Mostly.

Posts will be made containing his backstory, appearance, and more, which will be linked here as soon as they are up!

Pollux's Partners!

Who is Pollux involved with? Hehe.

♡ Umbrance — @nightonthemountain — May 28, 2024 — pollux's moon. 🏔️

Other Information!

Important things that don't fit anywhere else!

Ask games will be available sometimes! They will be tagged as "ask game — (insert title)."

Castor, Pollux, and I's first ask game (still ongoing) is here!

Admin hasn't had Castor and Pollux officially commissioned for a reference of their looks yet, so picrews are available for you to get an idea of what they look like! They are tagged as "castor picrew." and "pollux picrew." and will always have a link to the picrew and any other ocs included so you can check them out!

Anon List!

Anonymous blog frequenters will be tagged as "(insert something here) anon."

🌈 anon.

Thank you to cafekitsune for the free use dividers!

[omentranslates]

Owari no Seraph chapter 139 english fan translation

♪you would not believe your eyes

if Omen posted on time♬

the official tl is already out if you haven't seen it but if you've already been there thanks for reading mine too :3

The two bodies in which the First has settled.....* **

Owari no Seraph chapter 139: Two Monsters

Yuu: On the other side of this sigil....

Shinoa: ....there's someone there.

Yuu: Ouch!

Shinoa: Ack-

Shinoa: 30% of Shiichan went to someone else. But who?? I'll have to look through Shiichan's memories I've absorbed, but first-

Shinoa: Hm....

Mitsuba: SHINOA ARE YOU OK!?

Yoichi: Shinoa-san, you good!?

Shinoa: Hey, great news everybody! I managed to win against the First! C'mere Shiichan.

Shinoa: I flipped the script and absorbed him back!

Shinoa Squad: WHAT???? WOW GREAT JOB!!

Kimidzuki: Can your body handle doing something like that?

Shinoa: You'd be surprised by how well I'm doing actually, even after having eaten so much power.

Yoichi: You're not affected at all?

Shinoa: Nope, I'm so fine you could cry about it.

Shinoa: Humanity has, after all, created quite the monster with me. That even the First flinched from.

Yoichi: Huh? So then that means the First is...?

Kimidzuki: Well, I guess she's always had a "monstrous" personality anyways.

Mitsuba: Being a monster took her tits away...sad.

Shinoa: ENOUGH.

Mitsuba: It's alright, you'll never be a monster to us ok? You're just our mean as fuck and totally flat-

Shinoa: You wanna consider what all I just did for us and rephrase that?

Mitsuba: *screaming*

Kimidzuki: Anyways, did you find out anything? That was quite a risk you took. Can we put our faith in you again? Squad leader

Shinoa: But of course! Observe-

Kimidzuki: What the-

Yoichi: WHOA

Mitsuba: HUH!??

Shinoa: Demons can be driven one....no-five levels out of control. I can take on all of their poison once they get there.

Shinoa: Oh...nevermind, so its structure was like this...?

Shinoa: So if we use my body as a conduit, you should all become able to take in multiple other demons.

Mitsuba: HEY! Shinoa, WAIT-

Shinoa: Oh

Yoichi: Huh?

Kimidzuki: What is it?

Ferid: Hmm....Guren-kun, is someone looking this way? I've got a feeling something irregular just happened.

Guren: Yeah?

Mahiru: ...Guren, slice this direction.

Shinoa: Oh, I'll have to hide us first, our enemies are approaching.

Mitsuba: Who the hell are our enemies?

Shinoa: I'll explain it after. O Darkness, Into the Dark.

Yoichi: WHOA

Shinoa: Shh. Hold your breath, not even one breath.

Ferid: How strange, there's no one here. Even though there should have been....honestly, how did Shinoa and her friends manage to disappear?

Guren: Mahiru

Mahiru: Hm?

Guren: Find them.****

Shinoa: Neutralize her wave and send it back

Mahiru: Huh, there's really no one here.

Ferid: How troubling....the holders of two of our sinful keys have just run off.*****

Ferid: Even though we were just three shy of having all seven...

Shinoa: Holders of two of our sinful keys...who is he talking about? He said two holders, two of them.

Shinoa: It looks like it was a good idea to split off from the lieutenant and my sister after all. We need to take this into our own hands.

-

Yuu: Do you think we should hide this thing? The First was keeping it.

Mika: I mean, yeah I guess. Since our plan after this was to get captured

Yuu: Yeah, because the vampires can't kill us right now.

Mika: Shouldn't the situation have changed now that the First is gone?

Yuu: Well it's not like they know what happened to him.

Mika: Actually, I wonder what the vampires' goal was gonna be in the case he died.

Yuu: You lived with them longest, wouldn't you be the best person to answer that?

Mika: Huh, me? Uh...well, I remember them being real big law-and-order types.

Yuu: Law and order?

Mika: They were always trying to prevent the world from going any further off the rails than it already has. Like trying to stop the humans from going nuts and stuff, I guess?

Yuu: Oh so kinda like what we just did.

Mika: Yeah you get it

Mika: Stuff like what we just did....anyways, Yuuchan did you notice?

Yuu: I did. About the person on the other side of that sigil, right? The one who ate almost all of the First. He left me those memories.

Yuu: For real though, Shinoa is so strong...she even had the First calling her a beast!

Mika: That's what they're sayin', about humans being the absolute scariest. The vampires always HATED when you guys did stuff like that.

Yuu: I guess it's that good old human ability to do anything when it comes to family.

Mika: You've done quite a bit of that yourself, Yuuchan.

Yuu: You're one to talk, Mika

Mika: Not to mention Yuuchan, you've got a lady who loves you a scary amount on her way to rescue you.

Yuu: So the vampires' goal is to keep the world at a status quo?

Mika: Most likely

Yuu: And Guren's goal is to sacrifice Mika and resurrect humanity

Mika: Even though he might've mixed up his Mikas

Yuu: Which leaves our goal among all of that to be...just the same thing the First wanted, isn't it?

Yuu: The spell to resurrect Mikaela, the spell to conceal this world from Paradise, the spell to destroy Paradise.

Yuu: If we use those three, I can save the First, the angels and humanity. And we won't even have to sacrifice anyone, including me!

Mika: ....we're not totally done studying the First's memories, though.

Mika: I'm still not sure about this, the price for it all has gotta be massive.

Yuu: Once we clear this last boss though I really think we can all get along again.

Mika: Including these guys?

Saitou: ...where did the First go?

Yuu: The enemy humans took him away with them.

Lest: Enemy humans? Aren't you human too?

Saitou: Would you be referring to Ichinose Guren and Hiiragi Mahiru?

Yuu: Ahhh...I dunno. I had so much to say that I suddenly can't remember at all I've gotten far too hungry. So anyways, do you guys have anything to eat?

Ky: WIPE THE SMILE OF YOUR FACE.

Urd: How can we trust that it wasn't you who took in the First?

Yuu: Me? The First? No way! Don't go comparing me to a pessimist.

Yuu: MY GOAL IS TO SAVE THE ENTIRE WORLD. I'M EVEN GONNA INCLUDE THE FIRST IN THAT, I'M GONNA SAVE EVERYONE! EVERYONE! THE ENTIRE THING!! ALL OF IT!!

Mika: *clap clap*

Yuu: AND THAT INCLUDES YOU BLOODSUCKERS!! YOU'RE GONNA HELP ME BRING ABOUT WORLD PEACE!!! AND ALSO DINNER!!

A declaration made at the top of his voice!

*i remember there being a question last time about the ending line i think? of whose body it was saying the first had settled into and after looking at it again the context was pretty strong that it was yuu. this time, the text explicitly mentions both of them.

**it also while calling them monsters refers to them in a way that you can only refer to humans. which they are not consistent on because in previous chapters they've used nonhuman signifiers on both demons (definitely) and vampires (iirc)

***this line is written in a way that's very uncharacteristic for Shinoa because she dropped her usual polite language for it

****they use a structure that sounds weird to translate directly so i didnt but in jp he explicitly refers to the shinoa squad as enemies

*****i meant to go back and reread the series in english at some point to see what these are called officially but i never did so if this is wrong...sorry. refer to the official lmao see this is why you gotta read it

[once-vel]

i know absolutely nothing about blaseball but you have no idea how desperately i want to know everything about blaseball

[ID: An ask from @/celestinecerasus, reading: "all i know about blaseball is it's like evil 17776 (not about football) (not about satellites) (evil things happen)". /End ID]

(context, for anyone confused)

hehe... excellent... the short answer is it was an absurdist horror baseball simulator which ran near constantly during the onseason. i cannot summon a coherent explanation of it for the life of me so i'll put some assorted fun facts under the cut. i also tried to explain what my last post involving my ocs meant down at the bottom !

if you want an actual decent explanation of what it actually was, i recommend this post here. it is not mine! but it is good

umpires can go rogue and incinerate players, but only during solar eclipses

names are completely randomly generated based on a pool of names. so while there were characters with very normal names there were also characters named like... jaylen hotdogfingers. boyfriend monreal. freemium seraph. you get the point

there were an assortment of fun weather games could be played in, such as birds, peanuts, solar eclipse, feedback, salmon, sun 2, and three separate coffee weathers. this is not all of them i just cannot be bothered to pull up a list

said weathers had unique effects. my personal favorite is salmon weather which made everyone time travel

none of the players had a shred of canon lore so a lot of the fun was coming together as a community to make shit up for them. a whole lot of this has been recorded on the wiki if that interests you!

there WAS a story going on, separated into two eras, discipline and expansion. i cant tell you much about discipline because i wasnt there but expansion featured a god named The Boss buying the league and destroying it in pursuit of making it marketable. it ended with everyone killing her. as she was represented by a png of a coin, when we killed her, all of the ingame currency was completely removed from the website. after that the league was slowly destroyed by a black hole (games continued during this)

one time los angeles got split into infinite separate versions of los angeles. i am not sure how it worked because this concerned a team that was not mine. they called these the infinite los angeli

during. i think it was that same event? every player on the los angeles team got renamed to wyatt mason. there was a whole thing trying to get everyones names changed back. several players names were never fully corrected. this was named the wyatt masoning

then there was the time multiple teams across the leaves got their own little clones of wyatt mason. there wereee 14 i think? this was named the second wyatt masoning. i personally like the seventh mason a lot

there was one time a team got reduced to one(1) active batter and the game continued like normal. that one active batter was just. in several places at once. ze hit a triple at one point. all by hirself

necromancy was a thing. oh necromancy was very much so a thing. the first time we necromancied someone she came back with a debt to fill and killed many people

then you had the time someone necromancied themself with zero consequences. they got incinerated but they had a modification (attribute) that gave them a chance to change teams at the end of every season and fucking apparently dying didn't turn this off? so they just walked out of the hall of flame (the afterlife) and onto a random team. they proceeded to die again that season (i believe), and then they walked out of hall again

there was lore about the Before Times. in these Before Times, a guy was given a modification called firewalker that was essentially Super Debt. he left a team? whole team became unstable. he got many players killed. there's a song about this!

speaking of music! a lot of fans came together to write blaseball themed music. if music about this game interests you, check out the garages (the band)! they have a LOT of music. some songs i recommend are bones to ohio, fight gods, ur too slow, free space, mike townsend (knows what he's gotta do), and dead ringer. i also like your favorite one to break a lot. zakri song.

ok thats enough fun facts for now this is a c.ob blog not a blaseball blog. BUT i will now explain what my post from earlier means!!

kelzil is an alternate. getting alt'd in the actual sim essentially just means your stats get rerolled, but a very common interpretation of getting alt'd is outright getting swapped out for an alternate universe version of yourself. this is the interpretation i like! getting alt'd early specifically means they've had time to get used to it, so they're mostly just hanging out.

zakri's deal is like... i already explained the incineration thing in the post so i don't think i need to say more on that. flickering means he's more succeptible to the effect of feedback weather, which is two players on opposing teams getting swapped mid-game. this usually results in getting moved around from team to team a lot. he then gets shadowed, which pretty much just means he's taken out of active play. i don't have a solid interpretation of what the shadows Are so i don't have much to say on that.

THEN he gets elsewhere'd, which entails getting swept [vague gestures] elsewhere by flooding. this also takes you out of active play but this time it's for a random amount of time - a player might be gone for a day, a player might be gone for multiple seasons. zakri is gone for multiple seasons. i personally think of elsewhere as very foggy and very wet and very lonely, especially when you're there for a while. zakri will not be having a very good time !

now, for unnamed kiv. so the rising stars are a team that were introduced at the end of expansion. long story short, there was a big special game between two teams made specifically for the game - the good team (the rising stars) and the evil team (the vault legends). the vault legends were, specifically, the boss' team. we didn't really get to pick who got put on what team, players were drafted through a specific process. if you got too popular you got put on the legends and if you were popular but not too popular you got put on the stars, iirc. so because i imagine unnamed kiv to be a generally good player, they get forced onto the stars. after this is when the sun exploded and the league was destroyed by a black hole btw. so like. unnamed kiv is having a great time i'm sure

[memoryoflooping]

i love the characters to bits, and i'm still insane about the thing that happened during the tutorial.

loop 13 - (why did it skip?) i forgot to press the switch. oopsie! YESSSSSS bonnie KILL. guesswork on that last question tbh i wasn't sure if i remembered i'm gonna cryyyyy why does loop not look at everyone? i guess they're supposed to be secret? for the love of god can i just hand this damn star the flower UHHHHHHH SIF JUST KILLED THE FUCK OUTTA THAT SADDNESS HOLY SHIT???? everyone looks so scared… he killed that thing super dead it looped on its own……….. sif????? sif doing that????? TIMELOOP HAUNTED???? WHAT WAS THAT???? GHOST SIFFRIN???/ odile heads or tails wins seem to be consistant, she's winning multiple times in a row another ghost on the second floor????? what????? still wondering what the spreadsheet in the head housemaiden's office is for??? why would she need this… they forgot how to see colors??? uh oh. odile might be on to siffrin. oops ? siffrin just cut himself on glass in front of everyone???? i guess the death conversation explains the ghosts? mira has papers about… people???? basic questions… maybe she wants more friends? star crest saddness smell sugary? siffrin tasted sugar in his throat… king made the saddness… hmmm sif learned a paper move awesome ? guess i should've expected it after the rock one fuck yessssss new sif weapon… knifekey sweep -ok ok thinking on after some sleep, the 3 culprits for causing the timeloop are loop, the king and sif, but i don't have much of any whys for any of them… siffrin actively does not want to be in the loop but the tutorial thing is def implying something, if it was the king it would loop when he died… loop seems the most possible… but i don't know what motive they'd have. maybe they react the way they do to the drawing is bc they know someone will die? looping to prevent someone's death? they said they wanted to be here… but maybe its that they needed to be? -ODILE IS SO ONTO ME, "you look a little out of it"… fuckkkkk "YOU'VE BEEN WEIRD SINCE YESTERDAY" OH GOD SHE KNOWS -the king froze vaugarde because its "perfect"? because it welcomes travlers with no name…. hmmm… siffrin no middle name no last name…. -the king is not doing it… i wonder if the party will comment on it after… since siffrin just said basically it -there's a scent around him…? the sugar…? -its happening again with the head housemaiden… burnt sugar again loop 14 -YES I GET TO DRAG ODILE AROUND YES -house with no flowers has the familytale… -HELP WE'RE ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE. -sif looks like they haven't slept in weeks? do they not actually sleep when it loops. uh oh -this book has been around fucking everywhere i swear -also the change god statue changed i swear to god. was it doing that before and i just didn't play attention -there's no research… -half vaugardian. huh! -ohhhhh, i understand… the split connection to your history…. a culture that should've been mine but isn't… yeah… -loop likes being in the sun -bonding proposals? -WE HAVE ISABEAU AT HOME HELP -awh poor mira feeling pressured to date -siffrin like just don't think about it -awhhh stargazing together -oh wow sif is so smart he's so good at talking about planets and the sun i know it -TRANS ISA WINNNN!!!! -stop being gay. dinnertime biiiitch

-i love all of these guys :-) -i just fucking realized after all of that i forgot to ask about time craft. i'm fucking booboo the fool -whatever i'll explode via tear and go up to the 3rd floor for the area i didn't check out loop 17 - -WOAHHHHH this room is so sick… biggg window. star charts? loop 19 - -ok we are doing this right THIS time!!!!!! -there's a chance the party will remember if sif does? -UH OOPS? I made sif remember something with the coin hoping loop would react -"you'll always forget about the things you love" siffrin are you good buddy???? -ok i'll do isa's event again tomorrow god fucking damn it i can't believe i forgot to ask about time craft in the library

[calamitys-child]

*raises tea mug at u* ok Aidan tell us the tale of the pettiest thing you've ever done (that's you're willing to share on tungle.hell, ofc)

Oooooooooooooh good QUESTION omg. I actually don't have a ton I think are worth sharing? Growing up, despite being not infrequently bullied or faced with unfair situations, including by teachers, I tended not to have big fights with folk in interesting ways. Now as an adult I simply try not to be petty I think you should either commit to Negotiating or Mean. That said! I am a little cunt who does not want to deal with bullshit so sometimes petty bitching is the shortest route to a resolution, yken?

I have a couple that stick in my head but the funniest one is probably one that happened when I was a wean, like 9-10 years old.

When I was in primary school my year was split across 2 classes, and we swapped between classes so we could split groups like maths and English into groups based on what level they're studying at. In p7 (oldest primary school age, approx age 10) the Other class was run by a guy called Mr C who FUCKING SUCKED. FUCK that guy. The absolute epitome of "cringe of you, an adult, to have beef with a 9 year old". But unfortunately, I was put in his group a Lot.

He once yanked my chair out from under me so I fell over for no fucking reason. He once yelled at me for knowing the difference between a summary and a synopsis. He sent me to the head teacher's office for being at a dentist appointment which he was informed of a week in advance. He forced me to go out publicly and perform in a dress despite me begging for any other role or costume. I got thrown down two flights of stairs by a bully and he yelled at me for damaging school property because i was holding a laptop (the laptop was fine, i limped for a week). He had an affair with another teacher at the school which was a VERY POORLY KEPT secret and BOTH OF THEM had kids at the school and I take some comfort still in knowing their whole family are never going to live any of that down and everyone knows how embarrassing they are. He's a prick who thinks he's better than everyone and he sucks.

Growing up, my dad worked multiple jobs to keep money coming in. One job was bar manager at a fairly well known local theatre, another was like. Keeping practice areas clear and well maintained and helping out in training exercises for a local sports arena. He worked really hard, I basically never saw him in summer cause he took so much holiday overtime to keep money coming in. We were comfortable enough, but never more than securely working class, we never took holidays or anything.

When my school year wanted to put on our p7 play, we took sponsorships from local businesses to help fund props, script licensing, etc. My dad offered a raffle prize - two ticket vouchers from his theatre job. Mr C did not believe these were from his job, but had to accept it eventually.

A couple weeks later I was talking to my friend as we came back inside from break about something that happened at my dad's sports arena job the day before. Mr C overheard and, like any adult who is secure in themself (deeply sarcastic), dragged me up in front of the class to yell at me for lying. I distinctly remember something like "next you'll be trying to tell people your dad owns Nintendo and plays fitba for Scotland. You're not special. Grow up". Reduced me to tears to make himself feel better for no reason.

Parents evening was the next week. My dad and I schemed together a bit and he showed up in full sports arena uniform with name tag, wearing his theatre keys and ID badge around his neck. He wore that again to our show performance. And my graduation.

Technically my dad's pettiness at least as much as mine, but it sticks in my mind as the first time I ever got so mad at someone and decided to stick up for myself in a way other than just punching the cunt in the face in righteous 8yo fury

[venusiankittyxx]

here we go a nice detailed chronological list to come back to whenever you so please.

• told me from the start that her toxic trait is being manipulative (& i was still surprised when i got manipulated, how naive)

• told me i am taking you from her. like, just told me i was.

• promised me nothing would happen when they went back to your room on ur bday party then came out and told me they did some things to you & then said “oh sorry, i only meant if you went back”

• she didnt like when i sent pics of us or anything yet continued on to:

• let me know before you guys had sex every time

• made sure to send pics of you guys cuddling

• wore shorts that said _____’s property the first time i went to her house 😂😂😂😂😂😂 a not so subtle bitchy woman trying to assert dominance move which is just some weird ass behavior for a grown woman

• told her i felt like you weren’t texting me much while you were away & a little later made sure to pull up all your messages together

• went to her as a woman to tell her BEFORE YOU how i was feeling because whatever SHE said was how i was gonna base my next move, i was fully ready to leave the situation at that point. she lied to me about how she feel (because she was just being nice!!! according to you). why be nice when it comes to how youre feeling?

• then you both twisted it on me saying i went behind backs to tell her when i didnt even tell her any details of mine & yours talk. she asked me how it went and my words exactly “good, he feels the same as me” (as in you liked me back, we hadnt decided to be monogamous at this point so thats all i meant)

• she told you i manipulated you and got into YOUR head. acted like i was cowgirling you from her when that was not my goal or intention from the start and i made that clear.

• sent me her using your socks “that she stole” as heating pads for her face?? why would you send that to me of all people

• started telling me you were arguing with her about coming out for her bday.

her: “i hate when i say ok and people just KEEP arguing”

me:” whos bothering my ______?😤”

her: “😂your boyfriend😂” *followed by a long paragraph insinuating that you guys are arguing about it

me: “im off for your birthday, want me to come hangout?”

her: “no i dont care at all. like AT ALL”

(only wanted YOU for her bday. little did she know i was gonna ask u to split a present with me for her and to get a cake delivered cus she wanted one really bad. but nah, not after that)

• wouldnt let me save our convos on snapchat always got upset if i saved anything incriminating her

• shared weird shit on facebook that was obviously for me or you to see

• other girl told me she got similar behavior from her, unprovoked, she just started telling me about it

• weird things went on until i blocked her in january

so yeah! call it beef or whatever you want. but try putting yourself in my shoes, how would you have felt about this behavior from an ex towards you, truly? especially when youre trying to tell your partner these things occurring and you’re getting little emotional validation on the subject and being accused of just trying to ask them to cut off their friend. on MULTIPLE occurrences.

so the day i blew up was my last fucking straw. im not dumb, i saw her slowly creeping back in. you rejoined the discord, she was messaging you more. you were very open with your things i just saw this shit on your screens openly. i went to discord my friends on your account & noticed your messages with her were deleted. now its come to hiding shit. i wouldnt have given a single shit if it was your friend on her account. im nowhere near as unreasonable as you believe i am.

now imagine its my last straw, i feel i cant even bring it up because of how the conversations have gone in the past. so i say “im sorry im done”, because i WAS done with THAT WEIRD SHIT.

you’re supposed to be on your lady’s side but it always felt like me against both of you. which is just not fucking cool dude…

[aikasjournal]

Journal #4 - June 14, 2023

I’m at my lowest point right now. There’s a chance I might be fired from work because of all the slacking and absentmindedness I’ve been showcasing lately.

I am really struggling right now, mentally and emotionally (and even physically).

I feel so thinly spread amongst everything in my life. I’m resenting Jed because partly I blame him for all my shit. And then it will occur to me that I always have a choice and my choices are all mine. I don’t know where I stand right now. I’m floating. I’m aimless. I feel alone. I’m tired. I want to give up. I just want to be left alone for a couple of days. I want to reset but I feel like I can’t. I want to take a break, a substantial break but I can’t. I feel like if I don’t show up every single day, Noa would not be properly taken care of. If I don’t cook, I will always eat takeout. 

Let me just take it off my chest why I’m feeling resentful of Jed.

He doesn’t know how to cook or how to run a household or even think for a second that it is not easy to do so. He thinks I’m whining about nothing. That I am just a big fat complainer. The reason it’s annoying that he can’t cook is he cannot sub for me in terms of thinking about what we are going to eat as a family, much less what Noa is going to eat. He thinks that food, good food is something that appears out of nowhere or he just doesn’t care that there’s food at all, which is super unthoughtful considering I need to have proper food in order to properly feed Noa. But that’s all on me. So is taking care of Noa in the morning and in the evening. Yes, he “chips in.” Yes, he “helps out.” But that is not what I need. I need someone on equal footing who will tell me “go ahead go to bed and get some rest and I’ll make sure Noa is fed and well-rested.”

Instead it’s all on me during the day, making sure Noa eats properly, trying to think of Noa’s next meals and executing said meals. Heck sometimes it’s even on me to buy said fresh food. Although our nanny is here, I still have to check everyday to make sure that Noa follows her schedule and Noa gets the proper playtime each day etc etc. Sometimes I have to sub as well in taking care of Noa so Aiza can eat or do something else. Maybe this is where change needs to happen. I don’t fucking know. I’m always operating on autopilot it’s hard for me to think anymore.

He comes in, out from work around 9 to 10 am, plays with Noa for about 30minutes, pretends to care what we’re going to eat at lunch by telling me to “let him know what he can do to help.” Oh everytime I hear that line (”let me know what I can do to help”), I want to dig my eyeballs out of my eyesockets because I’m so annoyed at this attempt. If you want to help, help! For the love of God think for yourself how you can be of help instead of giving me another thing to do just so you could feel good about yourself instead of actually being of help.

When night time comes, it’s more of the same thing. Because Noa is still breastfeeding (and refuses formula), I’m still the one who answers most of his beck and calls during night time wakings. Sometimes he does help out because you know he’s Mr Helpful. But to be honest, he’s not really helping. He has a lot of meetings at night and starts working early at night and when I let him take care of Noa’s crying multiple times at night he gets frustrated of course because his work “needs” him. 

I feel like I’m the only one who actually tries so hard to read and educate myself about sleep training and baby-led weaning, esp the former because I know this would help me immensely in not being up and about at night time.

And then I feel really unappreciated. In fact, just the opposite. He gets annoyed listening to my whinging when I feel like that’s the least you can do. 

Money-wise we split everything in half. So I’m taking most of the burden of running our household, I get also most of the burden of taking care of Noa, and I also get to chip in half, sometimes even more, of our finances. Isn’t that grand? 

But I don’t get dates. I don’t get any kind of long-ass, uninterrupted sleep, possibly some pampering like a massage or really just a nice date at a nice restaurant where I didn’t set anything up myself and I just show up to it. Nothing.

For Mother’s Day I got a bouquet of red roses and a card that says, “Happy Mother’s Day. We love you! Love, Jed and Noa.” Short, sweet, and annoyingly short. And for the record, for the nth fucking record, I hate red roses. He knows this and still keeps giving them to me. I don’t know how to feel.

-----------

Now I’m in danger of losing my job. I’m just not doing my best at work and it is killing me. It’s maybe partly due to all my personal shit or I just don’t feel energized and motivated at work anymore. I’m just really clinging on to it because of money. I need the money. Especially now with Noa.

What am I gonna do with myself once I lose this job? Should I just quit? What is my plan? This is something I’ve been evading for the longest time because I really do not know what to do with myself and I feel like it’s time now, again, to rethink of my choices.

Where do I see myself in the next five years? Am I still working at this job? What do I have to show for myself?

It’s hard because I have convinced myself for the longest time that I will simply have a “day job” and spend my free time exploring my other passions. Now I am being haunted by my “day job” because truth be told it feels like my enthusiasm or motivation for it has run its course. I feel empty doing the work that I do. I do mostly rote movements at work. I don’t feel like I’m using any kind of skillset that energizes me or makes me feel I’m making any difference. And the fact that I’m saying all this negates my core belief that it’s okay to have a “dead-end” job so long as I have money and food on the table. It’s core-shaking to not feel that way anymore.

WHAT THE HELL AM I GONNA DO WITH MYSELF?

I feel like a failure. I feel so very negative about myself right now. Not sure if this is postpartum depression or just the regular kind where I fuck up every part of my life and, of course, feel sad about it.

I have to face the music very very soon. So help me God!

[sailoryooons]

Mine | One Shot | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x Succubus F. Reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi lives a quiet life. His days are organized neatly, and every week he can expect the same results. Then he meets you. Hypnotizing. Otherworldly. Strange. And his life never goes back to the way it was before.

☾ Word Count: 14,864

☾ Genre: Smut, Horror, Thriller

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Buckle up bitches this list of warnings is going to exhaust even me. Overall creepiness, descriptions of liminal spaces, tons of mentions of subspace-like trances, Yoongi's mind is not always his own, unexplained happenings, Yoongi being manipulated subtly, written jump scares (like three of them?), nightmares, hallucinations, the cutest and also creepiest fucking little succubus you'll ever see, Succy (succubus reader) really likes Tokyo Ghoul that should be a hint, hints at eating raw meat (bleh), Yoongi turning against his friends, Yoongi feeling sick/depressed in a couple of scenes, Yoongi is literally addicted to eating reader out soiejijrghij, explicit sexual content including, spit play, nipple play, oral (f. and m. receiving), grinding, unprotected sex in multiple positions, cum eating, switch dynamics between the two of them often, subspace mentions, fingering, ass play (m. receiving), just.... so many bodily fluids all the time, mentions of animal death (it is a cat and it's dead body is briefly described), a lot of confusion and pace changes as a style choice, Succy is literally obsessed with Yoongi so a lot of the pet name Kitty, very cringe behavior for some rando Yoongi met at a bar, ambiguous ending. I think that covers it idk this is almost 15k of pure nightmare fuel I will send you my therapists number alright

☾ Published: October 30, 2022

☾ A/N: If I have to write this authors note one more time because 'a wild tumbeast ate my fucking post I will scream. Do better Tumblr please stop eating my content over and over lmao. ANYWAY. SURPRISE THIS IS HERE A DAY EARLY. I have zero self-control and @gimmethatagustd told me to post it now so I really said fuck it we ball. I didn't use a beta for this one because I'm insane but I did edit it myself.... so if you see errors..... no you didn't. This one was so much fun to write and I hope you all love Succy as much as I do. She deserves the world she is very... scary and cute. 

HAPPY HALIWEEN!!!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask

Friday nights are spent blowing off steam from work with friends. Yoongi has always lived a simple life, and he likes his Fridays like this: second person to the bar after Taehyung, a quick shot of whisky to take the edge off the day, followed by a whiskey neat and some fries from the kitchen that will still be a little unthawed in the middle. 

Yoongi loves his Fridays at Serendipity. 

The name is a bit of a joke, Jimin says. He inherited the old, rundown bar under another name from his abusive father after he passed away. Mysterious circumstances, the long-term patrons mutter into darkened ale and frosted mugs. Still, they come despite Jimin flipping the name. It was the only thing Jimin could afford to flip, the floors still the same sticky concrete that collect vomit, spilled beer, whiskey, and perhaps a little piss.

It's an ugly thing, with the vinyl stool covers splitting open to reveal guts of yellow foam, and countertops that need another layer of lacquer to fight the chipping from heavy mugs being slammed down every time Seokjin gets into an argument with one of the regulars. Yoongi tries to avoid the bathroom as much as he can. Jimin spent two weeks cleaning it and stocking it with a nice care basket with sprays, cotton rounds, and other products, only to have someone puke in it on the first night.

Yoongi doesn’t care that Jimin named the bar as a bit of an inside joke. Yoongi knows in his heart of hearts when he sees you that this moment is serendipitous.

Because when Yoongi sees you for the first time, the world ends.

Not really. But it feels that way the moment he turns at the bar. Perhaps he’s meant to see you – or perhaps it was by your design. He tilts backward when the door opens, searching for any sign of Seokjin who said he would be there in a few minutes.

And there you are.

Lights dim. The world takes on a muted feeling, like the two of you exist between murky, brackish water with something lurking just beyond the clouded space that he can’t quite make out. The roaring voices of the bar fade softly into the background until it’s just a buzz of pressure between Yoongi’s ears - or maybe that’s not right. Maybe it’s the buzzing pressure of awareness pressing on his spine and eardrums. 

It isn’t pleasant but it’s not… uncomfortable. 

It’s impossible to look away from you. He tries - tries to remember where he is. A bar, perhaps? Not this weird, opaque space where the only thing he can make out is the rogue on your lips, a spark in your eye, and the way you walk forward. No. Walk isn’t the right word. Glide might be more appropriate, he thinks. 

As you near him, Yoongi breathes in sharply. Something like cedar mixed with jasmine and amber makes his head spin. The world tilts and Yoongi begins to slide on its new axis until suddenly, the mist surrounding him shatters as his foot comes into contact with the ground, knee buckling under his weight as his hand flies to the bar to hold himself up.

He fell off of his stool.

Yoongi almost doesn’t believe it, except Taehyung is laughing so hard next to him that Yoongi flushes furiously. He slides back onto the stool, brows furrowed and head ducked down to hide his rapidly glowing red ears and face from you.

But then you speak, and Yoongi cannot fight the urge to look at you once more. It’s an instinct pulling him from blushing furiously in his lap to stare at you.

“Hi,” you murmur. Yoongi is a fish out of water, mouth parted slightly, heart racing. Jasmine. Cedar. Amber. It’s all he can smell. His head swims, mind foggy as he tries to string together words. “Is this seat next to you taken? It’s the only one empty.”

Is it? Yoongi can’t tear his eyes from you, but he could swear Old Ass Han had been sitting there before you walked in.

Old Ass Han is the least annoying of Jimin’s customers and sometimes Yoongi doesn’t mind when Old Ass Han rambles about his late wife. Yoongi has no idea how old Old Ass Han is, he just knows that he was ancient even when Yoongi studied as a high school student tucked in the far corner of the bar.

“Um, yes?” Yoongi says and it comes out like a question.

You grin at him and the world ends a second time.

Pleasure-laced fear shoots down his spine. Your teeth are white and straight, but he swears for a split second they were razor sharp. He shakes his head, dispelling a little of the floating feeling as he says, “Of course. Yes. Please sit.”

Yoongi holds his breath and averts his eyes as you slide onto the stool next to him.

It’s suddenly too loud in the bar, a cacophony of voices and chairs scraping against concrete. Yoongi can still smell you, making the world rotate awkwardly as he spins on his stool to find Taehyung staring at him, brows raise and barely concealing his laughter.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you fumble like that,” Taehyung murmurs. He loses control of his laughter and tries to hide it in his cup of cider. Yoongi flushes and angrily stares into his whiskey, hyperaware of you leaning on the bar to call the bartender’s attention. “I mean – she is – holy shit I never believed in faeries or witches before but there's no way she’s human.”

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth. He tries to find a response to Taehyung, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and something tingles along every hair on his arm and neck, a sense of awareness as you lean on the bar, speaking to the bartender.

Again, your voice haunts Yoongi in a matter of seconds. He feels the need to turn and look at you again, but he doesn’t want to be weird. He’s already fallen off the stool once, and he doesn’t plan on further exacerbating his humiliation.

So, Yoongi remains facing Taehyung. Clutches his whiskey glass with shaking hands. Tries to take a breath – it comes out shaky – to calm himself. He has no idea what kind of delirium is threatening him every moment you’re next to him, but he wants to fight it - tries to fight it.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s brows twitch, mouth pouting. He ducks his head slightly, trying to find Yoongi’s gaze, but the older keeps his eyes fixed on the wood grain bar. Yoongi wants to look at you again. So bad. Wants to ask you your name. Wants to memorize the curves of your mouth. Wants to memorize every stroke of color in your eyes.

Want want want want.

A sudden throb pulses in Yoongi. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels it bloom inside of him, unfurling with warm petals of want want want want.

The urge to turn and look at you gets stronger.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

Yoongi grits his teeth. Feels pressure at the back of his head, like there are featherlight fingers pressing into the base of his skull to urge him to turn around and look at you again. His muscles constrict and he feels himself start to turn, hips beginning to swivel in your direction, arms rigidly placed on the bar as if to fight his lower half.

When he doesn’t turn to look at you, Yoongi swears he imagines the light press of fingers turning into a steel grip. His eyes start to water and he clenches his teeth, feeling an immovable force on him pulling, dragging, tearing - and he lets out a small gasp, the grip on him so strong that he -

“Yoongi,” Taehyung says again, voice firmer. Yoongi looks up this time, eyes soft and round, face flushed. There’s a little sweat collected on his brow, and Yoongi feels a dull throb at the back of his head like a fading migraine. “What’s wrong?”

“Um-“ he cuts himself off and clears his throat. The pressure on his head is gone, but the menthol-cool, awareness of you is not. “Maybe too much to drink? It’s been a stressful week, I think I knocked these back too quickly.

“You do look sort of flushed.” Taehyung raises his brows. “Maybe water?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Water, please.”

Taehyung asks for water when the bartender returns with your drink. Yoongi doesn’t look at you, though he can see from the corner of his eye you’re looking at him. He grits his teeth and stares at the mismatched, colored bottles behind the bar. None of its top-shelf – Jimin certainly cannot afford it – but it doesn’t need to be.

A glass of water appears in front of Yoongi in time for Seokjin’s arrival. The pressure in Yoongi’s skull doesn’t return, and the tingling along his nerves like an electric current dies down a little. He still feels shaken as he sips the water, freeing up the dry feeling on his tongue.

Seokjin nestles between Yoongi and Taehyung, ordering himself a drink. Jimin appears around the bar this time, finally done with his bookkeeping in the back, and slides a beer over to Seokjin. Yoongi watches the way Jimin smiles at them before his attention falters and slides to you sitting next to Yoongi, making Jimin blink rapidly a few times.

Irrational irritation flares in Yoongi for a split second. Though his attention is on his friend and watching Jimin reacts to you sitting in Old Ass Han’s place, it occurs to Yoongi that he doesn’t want anyone else to compete with him.

Not that he stands a chance. But for once in his life, Yoongi wouldn’t mind being the one to take someone home. Why can’t it be him? He saw you first. You’re sitting next to him.

Just as Jimin’s eyes glitter, turning to half-moons as he smiles at you, Yoongi spins in the chair, giving you his full attention. Your eyes turn to meet his and Yoongi is falling into them, no end in sight.

“Hi again,” you greet, voice velvet. “You have pretty eyes.”

“All right, hyung,” Jimin murmurs. Yoongi isn’t looking at Jimin, but he can hear the smirk in his voice as Jimin retreats to their friends.

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmurs. He allows himself to drink you in. His head begins to buzz like he’s had too much whiskey, his tongue heavy and cotton-fuzzed in his mouth. “You have a pretty… everything.”

You have to know how beautiful you are. A deity beneath silk-smooth skin. But you duck your head, a shy giggle leaving your lips. You have the decency to look shy, averting your eyes, lip tucked between teeth.

Perhaps later Yoongi will be embarrassed by the honesty. But right now, it’s all he can do to keep his heart rate normal. You are incredible to look at. Taehyung was right – perhaps not human.

An unnatural glow hums under your skin. Your eyes are vivid, drinking him in with a spark that Yoongi swears echoes a deep flame in the pit of his stomach. He wrestles with himself, his hands fighting a magnetic pull to reach over and brush his fingers across the canvas of your skin.

Yoongi won’t be able to stop if he touches you. His thoughts repulse him – you’re a stranger. Someone he doesn’t know. Someone his mind is begging to violate. He fists his pants, flexing the muscles of his hands and willing the strange pull toward you to go away.

He doesn’t even know your name and Yoongi feels like Pandora, watching you with coveted desire and shaking, greedy hands. Fuck he wants to pry you open and see what treasure lurks beneath the surface.

“What’s your name?” You ask him. You stir a beverage straw in your drink – an Old Fashioned. His lips twitch in a smile at your taste in drinks as he offers you his name. “Yoongi,” you repeat back. The way his name melts in your mouth like sugar entices him. “Cute. You’re cute.”

Yoongi flashes you a shy smile, echoing yours. You share a laugh, his rough and scratchy as he chews the inside of his cheek nervously, yours light and floating. It echoes in his ears and Yoongi loses his sense of self, thoughts drug-laced with only you.

And then your lips are on him and once again, Yoongi swears the world around him has fallen to destruction.

It’s hard to remember the order of events. Yoongi doesn’t care. Your mouth is sugar-sweet and hungry, licking into Yoongi’s open-mouthed kisses as he presses you against something firm. He wants to melt into you, your skin like fire under his seeking hands, your breath delicate and soft against the empty air of what he thinks is his apartment as his lips attached to your neck.

Even your skin tastes sugared. A delicacy for him. For his mouth only.

Mine. The word echoes across his mind, but not in is own voice. 

You writhe underneath Yoongi’s hands. He squeezes the flesh of your lips, tongue snaking out to lick a broad stripe of skin up your neck. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging slightly, just enough to make him groan against your skin.

Yoongi is painfully hard. His cock throbs in his pants, the material restrictive and making the ache so much worse. He grinds his hips against yours, mouth sucking viciously at your collarbone, the top of your cleavage, anywhere he can taste you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your head thudding against the wall behind you. Panting, you hike up one of your legs, wrapping it against his waist to pull him in tighter to you. Yoongi whines as you connect your mouths again, tongue and teeth, and spit as you grind against him. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“Have me,” he mumbles sucking your tongue into his mouth. You moan, deep in your chest. He swears for a second it’s like a growl. Thinks nothing of it. Just pushes against you hard, cock pulsing. “Whatever you want.”

“Please.”

Yoongi never wants to hear you beg again. Or maybe he doesn’t want you to stop begging. He can’t make up his mind as he pulls you toward a room – his room. Yes, you’re both in his apartment. That’s his slate grey couch that you’re stumbling past and that’s his sheets that you fall backward against.

Licking his lips, Yoongi takes a moment to look down at you. You’re splayed out for him, unfurling in his sheets. He knows tomorrow morning they’ll still smell like you – jasmine, cedar, amber. You look divine, a flower unfolding delicate petals, open for him.

Only for him. Mine. 

You wrap your legs around Yoongi, pulling him flush to the edge of the bed. You release him and press your feet to the bed, knees resting against his hips. You blink at him through fluttering lashes and starry eyes. He’s never seen anything like you. He never will again. He knows it.  

“God damn you’re beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, the words slipping through his lips, unrelenting.

The stars in your eyes vanish. Yoongi recoils, seeing the fathomless black threatening to eat him alive. He begins to pull away, terror shooting through his chest, sharp and angry. You squeeze your knees against his hips, nearly shattering him. Your mouth is a gash of red with rows and rows of black teeth, churning and churning.

“Don’t speak his name here,” you hiss, words slithering in layers of many different voices. “Never again.”

Yoongi blinks and you’re blushing as you look up at him, knees splayed like butterfly wings, open for him. Just for him. He smiles at the way you giggle and hide behind a hand. “You’re so sweet.”

“You are beautiful. I swear it.”

“Touch me.” Your voice drips honey-sweet on his senses. “I want to feel you, Yoongi. Please.”

There is a prickling sensation like fear at the base of his spine but Yoongi can’t remember why as he smiles at you lazily, dipping down between your legs. He props himself above you, hands planted on the mattress on either side of your head to cage you in.

“Ask me again.”

“Please. Please please please-“

Yoongi swallows your begging tongue first, delving into your luscious mouth.

It’s been a long time since he’s been in his room like this with a partner, much less with someone who looks the way you do, but Yoongi’s hands are confident as they sweep up your sides, pulling the fabric of your shirt up with his hands as they go. You lean upward, letting him pull it off you before it flies from his hand somewhere in the room.

The lights are off in his room, but a silver shaft of moonlight spills through the window to paint you silver. Your eyes reflect the light as you drink him in, his hands brushing up your arms, warming your skin as he traces them to your tits, palming them generously over your bra.

A sigh escapes through your parted lips, red lipstick smeared artfully from the clash of mouths and tongues. He dips back down, tongue hungry for your sugar-warm taste and the liquid heat of your mouth.

Yoongi is dizzy. He’s a little off balance as he breathes you in. Your fingers pull through the strands of his hair, hips canting upward as he reaches around to unclasp your bra, peeling the unwanted layer from you.

Heated, shameless eyes meet his. You tilt your chest toward him, eager for his mouth. He doesn’t miss a beat, placing wet kisses over the tops of your breasts, more tongue and spit than lips, leaving a slick trail to your right nipple. Yoongi’s mouth is possessive, sucking your pert but between his lips and flicking it lightly with his tongue, looking up where your lips part in the moonlight to let out a soft moan.

It spurs him further, plucking your nipple with his teeth, pulling any sound he can from you. He gets a loud whine then and you wiggle your hips under the weight of where his waist is pressed into yours. Grinning, Yoongi repeats the motion, giving a generous suck before pulling away with his teeth, gentling scrapping your peak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Feels so good.”

Yoongi trails chaste kisses from one nipple to the other, giving it the same attention. He snakes a hand down your body, fingers dancing across heated skin to pull at the zipper on your jeans. His hands tremble, making it difficult to free the first button.

Reluctantly, Yoongi pulls his mouth away from your breast, a glossy strand of spit connecting his mouth to your swollen skin as he looks down, using both hands to pop the button on your pants and tug violently at them.

“These jeans are the fucking devil.”

“Yes,” you murmur, so quietly that he can barely hear you. He gets them to your ankle, yanking one more time and tossing them. He loses your hushed words in the rustle of clothes hitting the floor when you whisper, “I am.”

“Hmm?” he asks.

You silence his question by pulling his shirt over his head, leaning to capture his exposed chest with your tongue and teeth. Yoongi stands between your legs, head falling tilting toward the heavens at the worship of your mouth.

Deep groans leave his mouth. You bite more than you kiss, but Yoongi likes the way your mouth leaves a trail of little teeth marks, your mouth pinching his flesh before your tongue soothes it. You have him trembling, nearly making him double over as your hand presses over his clothed cock firmly, applying the pressure he needs.

It’s not enough.

Every part of Yoongi feels exposed. Even half dressed, the world is brushing against him raw, every touch of your hands like pleasure and torture, every fan of your breath like the coldest breeze on a hot summer day.

None of the sensations make sense but he feels high – higher than that time he and Jimin took shrooms at that one festival in college where the lights had whispered secrets of the forest to Yoongi and where he had tasted something beyond what he could describe.

But under your carnal touch, Yoongi knows that is nothing compared to this. Nothing compares to the way you work his jeans down to his midthigh, too impatient for him to kick out of them before you’re dipping a hand in his briefs and taking his cock into your hand.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi gasps, nearly toppling backward. Your grip is firm, strokes deft and confident and oh my god he might come like this.

You lean up to teeth at the pulse point of his neck as your tongue darts out to take a firm lick. “There is nothing holy about me, Min Yoongi,” you murmur against his neck. He shivers, eyes rolling behind closed lids as you speak. He can feel the trace of your incisors, sharper than he remembers against his skin.

Stars dance behind his eyes. You pull your hand away from his cock, making him protest. You hush him with a bite against his shoulder, sharp enough that he thinks you break skin. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting his world sweep from under his feet as you turn him and knock him onto the bed.

When the feeling of spinning stops a little, he blinks his eyes open to help you peel his clothes the rest of the way off. You’re fully naked and Yoongi doesn’t know where to keep his eyes. The swells of your breasts, marked with bite marks and spit from his mouth, the curves of your stomach and waist as you climb atop him, predatory and eager, or the glistening slick of your thighs where you’re dripping for him.

“Come here,” he demands. He’s dying to have you on his tongue, knows you’ll taste saccharine. He grabs your thighs harder than necessary, zeroing in on your pussy as he pulls you toward his mouth. “Wanna fucking taste. Bet you’re fucking delicious.”

You hum in delight, a lethal smile on your face as you crawl up to where he wants you, knees firmly on either side of his head. Yoongi lets out an appreciative noise. Your cunt is sticky and glossy for him, the perfect meal.

With gentle fingers, he parts your folds gently to reveal your slick, clenching hole and needy clit. Yoongi is eager, a finger trailing up and down your warm slit as he lets out a moan.

“Fucking wet,” he whispers before leaning up for a long, slow lick.

Stars explode behind his eyes. He hums in delight, shivering at the taste of you, heady on his tongue. He repeats the motion a few times, flattening his tongue for a slow-drag, appreciative lick up your cunt. He feels the way you drip into his mouth, spill on his chin and he can’t help but curse, at how addictive this feels.

You moan when he dips his tongue into your entrance, gathering your essence on the tip of his tongue before he drags it soft-slow up to your clit, circling your bundle of nerves lazily. Yoongi pulls your clit into his mouth with gentle lips, feeling the way it pulses as he sucks gently.

The sounds you make above him spur him further. He alternates between sucking your clit delicately and butterfly-soft tongue flutters, watching your mouth go slack as you watch him. The more you drip into his eager mouth, the greedier Yoongi gets, fastening his entire mouth on you and sucking harshly.

It becomes sloppy and imprecise. Yoongi can’t decide where he wants his mouth most. He can’t remember ever feeling this lightheaded from oral, much less giving. But he’s starstruck under you, sucking and sucking and sucking – fuck he doesn’t know if he’s even taking breaths.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whisper, a hand going to knot in his hair. His scalp tingles pleasantly where you hold onto him, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips move slowly over his face. “Fuck keep going.”

Pride swells in his chest. Your voice is airy, breaths short and stilted and overwhelmed as he eats you vigorously. His fingers dimple your skin, pressing into the meat of your ass as he rocks you on his tongue, jaw slack, tongue flat for you to let you fuck yourself on his face the way you want.

Yoongi feels you drip down his face, hears the wet-smack of his mouth against your cunt. He moans. Buries his face further, letting you grind yourself on his nose, chin, mouth lips, anything. He doesn’t care, sticky-coated to the jaw, so fucked out from pleasing you that he almost blacks out when you cum.

Something happens.

He doesn’t know how to describe it – it’s like for a moment, everything goes dark. Perhaps he does blackout. Perhaps he wasn’t breathing. He can’t remember. All he knows is that between one heartbeat and the next, there’s a moment of pure darkness accompanied by a laugh that chills his spine.

And then your mouth is on him, spit and cum making the glide of your mouths sticky-sweet.

Yoongi sucks your tongue into his mouth, pressing his fingers gently to the back of your head, pulling you closer closer closer. He just wants you closer, his stomach burning with a sudden hunger for you. He feels on fire, skin too-warm where your chest slides against his, sweaty and flushed.

Sheets stick to every part of him. He’s aware of the sweat that slides down his neck, a cool finger of relief as you press him further and further into the mattress. He feels like he’s sinking, entering a new domain where he’s no longer in his room – he's just with you. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Your fingers claw at his hair, pulling the strands to pin him to the mattress as you lift yourself, looking down at Yoongi. He blinks, stars in his eyes as he starts up at you, looming. Glowing. Beautiful. His hands are on your hips, a sparking current humming just beneath the surface of your skin.

You feel alive and vibrant.

A moan escapes Yoongi’s mouth, pleasure rolling through him as you grind your cunt on his throbbing cock, warm and wet. His eyes flutter, Yoongi squirming under you, legs kicking and twitching as you tease him. Just the glide of you on his shaft makes him shiver, the pit of his stomach clenching.

“Please,” Yoongi rasps. His fingers dig into your hips, begging. Pleading. Desperate. “Please please please please.”

“You look so pretty when you beg.” Your grinding increases and the room spins. His hands fall from your hips to the sheets, fingers fisted tightly in the fabric. “You’re so beautiful, Yoongi. My Yoongi. Mine. Mine mine mine.”

Your words are lost on him. There’s only the firm touch of your hand against his cock, gripped tight at the base as you lift yourself. He feels his cockhead catch on your swollen entrance and he lets out a strangled noise. He doesn’t know if he can stop himself from cumming. He is bursting at the seams with heat, an inferno so intense he swears that the world catches fire as you slide down his cock, warm and tight.

“Shiiit,” Yoongi hisses. He takes a deep breath and holds it, hips twitching where you straddle his waist, letting him suffer beneath you.

“Feels good.” You lean forward, hands pressed to his chest to support your weight. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open. He blinks at you through wet lashes. The room is so dark he can only make out the barest features on your face, but he sees your eyes clearly. Looking at him. Watching. Hungry. “So good,” you repeat. “So fucking deep.”

Nails bite into the skin of his chest. He feels his skin smart. The hot bead of blood that forms. He doesn’t care, watching as slowly, you lift your hips, your walls hugging every inch of Yoongi. He lets out a shaky breath, hands settling on your waist. He plants his feet in the bed, angling himself better as you reach the tip of his cock before sinking back down.

Heaven and hell. Yoongi wavers between both, gritting his teeth to keep from coming, to keep the feeling of you gripping him tight going. He doesn’t want it to end, it feels so good but it’s wonderful agony, fighting the curl in his stomach, the twitching of his abs, the threat of exploding.

Yoongi's eyes are drawn to where you fuck yourself on him, sticky arousal turning silver in the single shaft of moonlight that spills across the bed where you’re joined. He can’t look away, entranced by the wet smack of your ass on his thighs, the way you just fucking take him.

It lights a fire in him more intensely than the solar flare that threatens to send him spinning into his orgasm. Yoongi growls, digging his nails into your skin, half-moons on smooth flesh as he grits his teeth and fucks up into you. You gasp, nails raking down his chest as he jostles you. His breath comes out as stilted hisses behind clenched teeth.

“Touch yourself for me,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you come all over me – please.”

“Gonna,” you pant, head falling to his chest, claws leaving pink lines on pale flesh. You slide one hand down his body, making him groan as he fucks you with abandon. You gasp, hand working your clit between your writhing bodies. “Gonna come.”

“Please - for me.” He thrusts hard, thighs trembling with the effort, holding his breath as his muscles squeeze. He can feel you tense, pussy clenching so tight he curses and stops, letting you pulse around him as you moan and an unintelligible string of curses that sounds... like another language. “Fuck, just like that.”

Yoongi feels himself come apart. His universe shatters and he floats among the stars. Weightless. Happy. Tired. He feels nothing and everything, a soft frequency of... something dancing along his skin. A soft buzz. Pleasant and warm.

He doesn’t know how long he exists in that space. He can still smell notes of cedar, jasmine and amber. It's stronger now, with a touch of something else... something burning. He leans into the smell and it wraps around him, soft hands around his middle and petal-soft lips against his cheek.

Yoongi becomes vaguely aware that it’s you curled into his side, nose hidden in his neck, chest rising and falling against his arm. It grounds him a little. Brings him back into a dark room that is too obscure to be sure it’s his bedroom at all.

As he drifts off into sleep, he remembers the feeling of your tongue against his neck and nothing more. 

-

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

It wakes Yoongi up. His stomach feels empty. His hands seek your warmth, palming your ass, pulling your hips flush to his. He doesn’t open his eyes, content to feel your heat. Again, something like electricity thrums under your skin, tickling his wandering hands.

Your mouth catches his. Pulls him further from sleep. He feels his skin ache from your teeth and nails the night before. Feels the weight of something inside of him that wasn’t there before, although he cannot put into words what it is.

Even in the morning, your mouth is sweet. Gluttonous. You suck his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling softly followed by a light giggle. He smiles into the next kiss, sloppy and filled with too much tongue but he lets you taste him.

Yoongi swears there is an echo of your taste from the night before. It’s enough to kickstart desire in him, detaching his mouth to plant kisses down your neck. Chest. Stomach. His tongue licks a trail down your velvet skin.

In a shuffle of sheets and skin, you lay back for him, pliant. He’s awake now, pressing your thighs open, teeth nipping the tender flesh. You giggle and the sound makes him pause, lips pressed to your leg, eyes looking up at you in the dim light of the morning. Or night. It’s hard to tell what time it is, here with you in this bed.

Glowing eyes look at him. Round. Soft. Curious. You watch Yoongi with rapt attention, lip pulled between your teeth. Spread. Eager. Ethereal.

Yoongi drops his gaze, groaning when he sees how fucking wet you are. He pulls you closer, sliding a hand under your ass to provide support. Curious, he brushes his thumb up and down your folds, collecting your essence as he does.

“So swollen and wet,” he mumbles, morning voice deep and scratchy. “You’re always so ready to be eaten, hmm?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

The new nickname makes him pause, thumb resting on your clit. He can almost feel your cunt throb under the pad of his finger as he applies a little pressure, watching you whine and kick your legs a bit. He grins.

“Kitty?” he asks as he resumes playing with you. His thumb dips into your hole, ring of muscles clenching around him. His grin spreads as he pulls it away, watching you fight with the loss.

“You have- ughhh – cat eyes. Pretty. Soft. Smart. Kitty.”

He hums, dipping his head forward to give you a single kitten lick. He shuts his eyes and sighs heavily, your taste heavy on his tongue. You taste just as good as the night before. “Cute,” he murmurs, more to himself. “I like it, baby.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response. He presses in, tongue lapping at you hungrily, refusing to let you drip without his mouth for another moment.

-

Greedy.

You’re greedy. You always are. Yoongi isn’t sure what day it is. It might be the same night as when he brought you home or it could be the weekend or it could be next week. He somewhat remembers the taste of a meal. Some cool water. But he doesn’t recall when he made it or when he showered.

He only knows he showered because he smelled the mint soap on your skin a few moments ago when you had your mouth attached to his throat.

Now, your mouth swallows his cock whole, throat pulsing around him. He curses, fingers twisting in your hair as he listens to you choke. Feels your drool dripping down his thighs. You relent, pulling back with a slick sound. He looks down at you between half-moon eyes, lashes fluttering.

You’re a vision: bruised lips smeared in spit and cum, chin covered in slick, watery, round eyes that blink up at him, innocent despite the fact that you rub the flushed tip of his cock against your abused mouth.

“Fuck,” he swears, watching your devilish tongue snake out to lap at his dark tip. “Fucking cock hungry, huh?”

You nod your head, trailing your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, taking time to suck slopping kisses to his skin. He can’t look away, even as you pump him lazily with your small hand, ravenous little mouth sucking coyly at his balls.

His fist tights in your hair. You look up, tears spilling over rounded cheeks. You look angelic at that moment, weeping before him. He nearly busts right there.

“Does Kitty like when I do that?” You ask softly, voice almost a whisper. Your voice changes, he’s noticed. Sometimes coming out dark velvet, other times tangerine-sweet. “Am I a good girl, Kitty?”

You always call him that. He wasn’t sure about it at first, but with a mouth full of his precum and neck covered in his teeth marks, Yoongi thinks you can call him whatever the fuck you want. He’s never seen a creature so drunk off fucking him before and he’s no better. All he wants to do is fucking live in you.

“Such a good girl,” Yoongi promises. He holds your head with one hand and your chin with the other, pulling your bottom lip down with one thumb. His touch is soft and reverent. You preen for him, smiling around his thumb as he slips it in your mouth and presses on your tongue. Feels the spit and god knows what else there. “Come on, baby. Suck.”

And you do. Yoongi’s eyes roll back in his head. He falls backward on his bed and it feels like he has passed through a portal to somewhere else. He floats. All he knows is your mouth, unforgiving. Your tongue, sinful.

And when Yoongi comes down your throat, and when you pull off of him and smile at him with the slow drip of it, Yoongi feels like he’s in fucking heaven.

-

Monday he calls out of work.

Crunching numbers at an accounting firm seems like hell in comparison to where he is now. You’re bent over the kitchen counter, drooling on the granite as he slowly drags his cock through your drenched heat. He ignores the spilled glass of water next to you. Instead, he watches himself disappear deep into your cunt, collecting cream on the base of his cock every time he pulls out.

Yoongi senses you looking at him. You are, eyes intense and heavy. Your gaze shifts so often he can barely keep up – thinks maybe he imagines the way you go from soft, round-eyed sweetheart to a siren-eyed vixen.

It’s the vixen look at him now. And as though you can read his mind, you slick your tongue out of your mouth, bubble gum pink and eager, eyes dragging down to where he works himself in and out.

Yoongi pulls out slowly, running a finger along your arousal smeared along his shaft, and leans forward, thrusting in hard. You pant, tongue still out and eyes focused on his as Yoongi delicately places his cum-slick finger in your mouth. Presses your cream on your tongue.

Your lips close around his finger, tongue swirling around the digit as you shut your eyes and hollow your cheek, gently sucking your arousal until there’s nothing left.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers, in awe of you.

And you are. There’s nothing you won’t do for him. Nothing Yoongi won’t do for you. So he slams into you, deep deep deep, and grunts until you’re coming around him for what feels like the hundredth time since he’s met you.

-

Yoongi startles awake. He blinks away a dream that he immediately cannot remember. His skin is clammy and his sheets stick to him all over. He kicks them off, heart hammering as he jumps to his feet, trying to get away from the bed.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels danger near him with every slam of his heart.

For a few moments, he’s in total darkness. He can’t make out the shape of his dresser. Or the pile of clothes in the hamper. He can’t see any light filtering through the window. He knows there’s a streetlight out there – why isn’t the light streaming through his curtains?

Panic threatens to seize him. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing fiercely. He opens them, bursts of starlight blinding him until they fade finally and he can see.

There’s a shadow in front of him, all razor teeth and red eyes.

Yoongi screams, flinching backward. He topples over and feels weightless like he’s falling through time and space. The moment of fear stretches out long – too long – and for a second he thinks he will die. His heart is beating too hard in his chest, his mind is screaming too loud, and the adrenaline threatens to crack him open and spill out on the floor.

He hits the curtain behind him and fists the fabric, ripping the entire rod and holders down backward as he goes. Streetlight pours into the room. He thrashes, blind and screaming among the now ruined curtains, the curtain rod, and drywall dust.

Yoongi frees himself, grabbing the rod to defend himself against the creature in a last-ditch effort to live.

Grey light saturates the room. There’s no shadow creature with teeth and red eyes. There’s just you in the middle of his bed, the reflection of the street light turning your doe-eyes to glowing coins. You’re in a t-shirt of his, soft and crinkled, hair messy. Lip trembling.

“Kitty?” Your voice is small. Almost childlike. “Kitty are you okay?”

The panic beat of his heart slows. He swallows down nausea and realizes his shaking, the remaining waves of adrenaline taking their toll. Yoongi lets go of the curtain rod and nods, pressing his head into the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. Throat dry. You move on the bed – more of a prowl – and you flick the lamp light on. Warmth rushes into the room and with it, relief. “Thank you.”

“What happened, Kitty?”

“A nightmare. I got up and … I don’t know. I thought I saw something.”

You sit on your knees. Hands in your lap, one palm splayed on your thigh, the other lifted toward him. Beckoning. Open. Warm. Safe. He peels himself from the wreckage by the window and walks toward you, feeling as though there is a string between you and him, tethering you to him. Reeling him in.

When Yoongi’s hand touches yours, exhaustion bleeds into him. Safe. He is safe. You smile and there are no razor teeth. Just kiss-stained lips as you shuffle backward, pulling Yoongi back into the bed.

“Come sleep, Kitty.”

“Okay.”

Carefully, he turns off the lamp. The streetlight floods his room now, but it’s comforting, the grey wash of the world enough that he can see anything creeping in the shadows.

Eventually, he falls back asleep with the slow drag of your hand back and forth across his forehead, and your mouth pressing gentle sucks to the side of his throat.

-

“Where are you going?”

Yoongi almost smiles at the pout on your face. You stand in his kitchen, brows pinched, mouth furious. You’re in another one of his shirts – there is nothing else for you to wear. His grin spreads as he comes around the counter, placing his messenger bag down.

Somehow you seem so much smaller in the daylight. Yoongi swears when you’re riding him in the early hours of the morning or when he has you on all fours fucking you deep into his mattress, you’re a force to be reckoned with. A fierce creature feeds on carnal pleasure only.  

But now in the light of day, with your bottom lip jutting out and scowling brows, Yoongi thinks there is nothing more adorable. His perfect baby. You reach out, opening and closing your hands and he laughs.

“Work,” he answers gently, pulling you toward him. You don’t fight him. You never fight him. Yoongi is always your top priority – you’ve made that obvious. He smells the cedar. Jasmine. Amber. His head swims and for a moment, he forgot what you asked.

Moments like this with your skin touching, that high-frequency current that is unfamiliar but feels so good – Yoongi forgets himself. Every time he touches you, he’s somewhere else.

His phone rings and he remembers he’s supposed to leave. “I have work.”

Your scowl gets worse. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want to be with you.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he pulls away, you’re almost snarling, gripping him like iron. He sighs and squeezes your hips for reassurance. “I’ll leave a little early, yeah? For you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” Your lip wobbles and he leans forward again, nipping you. “Get some sleep. You woke me up very early this morning, hmm?”

You don’t answer, but you loosen your grip.

When he gets in the car, he sees the curtain in his living room shift and he grins. Cute.

-

Work drags. Yoongi’s in a bad mood. His coffee is extra bitter. The water tastes off. The fluorescents in his office are too bright, prompting him to turn them off. When he begins auditing his client’s monthly spending, the numbers swim on screen.

Yoongi takes his glasses off. Puts them back on. He swears that he sees symbols and that the screen glitches, flashing between letters and numbers and… something he’s unsure of. When he rubs his eyes, the screen is just numbers in an Excel sheet.

Sighing in defeat, he glances at the clock. It’s only been an hour.

“Fuck.”

He pulls his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen. Your contact information is in his phone, right? The silence in his office is deafening. It presses in on him as he stares at his phone, unseeing. Why didn’t he have your phone number? Shouldn’t a boyfriend have their-

A knock at the door startles him. He drops his phone, mumbling an apology as he bends down to get it before righting himself and looking at his director.

“How are you feeling?”

Yoongi shrugs. “A little off.”

And… it’s true. Yoongi’s head hurts suddenly, a migraine slamming on the confines of his skull. His too-bitter coffee burns in his stomach. The back of his neck feels too hot and his hands shake as he puts his phone on his desk.

“You don’t look too well. Maybe take the day?”

Yoongi nods. Sways a little when he stands up to retrieve his things and turns his computer off. On the drive home, the headache recedes a little. He grips the wheel tight, taking deep breaths as he tries to steady the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

In the drive, Yoongi takes a deep breath. The pressure in his head is gone and his stomach doesn’t feel as rotten as it did twenty minutes ago. He makes a mental note to look up his symptoms when he gets inside – perhaps he has the flu. It won’t do to feel this way before his client’s quarterly financial reports are due.

Thankfully, when Yoongi steps into his house, he feels much better.

Feels fine as he drops to his knees in the entryway, tongue buried hungrily in your cunt as he presses you hard against the door, drinking in every drop. Above him, you tremble and cry, begging him never to leave again.

When you cum on his tongue, creamsicle sweet, he thinks he never will.

-

Pain shoots up Yoongi’s foot as he stubs his toe making his way to the bathroom. He can barely see in his room now that he has fixed the curtains – and put blackout ones at your request – and the floor is covered with his shoes and chargers and boxes of snacks you keep in his bedroom like a nest.

He has never in his life seen someone with an appetite for junk food like you – especially sweets.

Yoongi opens the bathroom, the gentle, white glow of the night light casting a dull halo against the whitewash walls. He glances in the mirror and his heart launches into his throat. His hand slams against the door for balance and a moment of terror bleeds him dry when he sees the shadow behind him, white teeth flashing and red eyes.

Whirling around, Yoongi’s hand shoots for the light, painfully jamming fingers against stucco. He manages to flip the switch while his heart pulses in his throat, terror working its way through him like an injection straight into his cardiovascular system.

Light spills into the room, so bright that he flinches, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them, there’s nothing. It’s just his messy room, covered in clothes, empty and half-full bottles of lube, a generous amount of junk food, and you.

Asleep. Soft against his pillows, lips parted slightly.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Yoongi chastises himself and shuts the bathroom door. A few splashes of cold water from the tap do the trick, calming him down and cooling the red splotches of anxiety blooming on his neck.

When he returns to bed, your hands seek his warmth, making grabbing motions even in sleep. He indulges you, sliding closer. Tucking you into his chest. You hum in your sleep, that vibrating feeling that lives just under your skin ever-present.

Gently you lean forward, mouth seeking as you press your lips against the soft spot under his ear. He shivers as the innocent kiss turns into a soft suckle, pulling skin between teeth your tongue pressed against his flesh. But you don’t wake up. You seem content to lay in his arms with the gentle pull of your mouth against his skin, smelling like cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

And he falls asleep, moment of terror forgotten.

-

Yoongi has a problem.

Time management was always one of his strong suits. As someone who lived an organized little life in an organized little home, he thrived on order, repetition of days, and knowing what to expect each day.

Except now Yoongi never remembers what day it is. He hardly remembers how he spends his day. But what he does remember are moments with you. Bodies against bodies. The press of his fingers in your sticky cunt. Your curious fingers, pressing into the tight rim of his ass, pulling out orgasms so deep that it takes him hours to move.

Now, you’re pressed against him on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV. He watches you and you watch the screen, completely focused on the world of Spirited Away. His lips twitch in a smile and he yawns. You snuggle closer to him, nearly attached. It’s second nature to you, to fasten yourself to him. He doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When Yoongi’s phone rings, it interrupts everything. You immediately hiss, looking toward the ringing device on the counter. He can’t remember the last time his phone rang but he begins to lift himself off of the couch.

Your fingers dig in. “Finish the movie.”

It’s a demand. He laughs as your brow pinches. “I’ll be right back, let me just see who it is.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie with me?”

Your voice has grown small again. Not the sultry purr he is used to in the middle of the night when you mouth at his cock, hard before he’s even awake. Not the demanding crack of a whip when you order him to come.

This voice is tiny, a soft thing that immediately draws him to look at you. He cradles your face, your big eyes looking at him with tears rimming them. His stomach drops and he hushes you, thumbs brushing back and forth.

“Fuck – baby why are you crying?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie, Kitty?”

“Hey, Kitty wants to watch the movie.” He croons and you pull yourself into his lap, arms going around his neck and winding in his hair. He keeps a soft grip on your face, eyes searching. That thrum is just beneath the surface, like a beating heart. “I just have to answer the phone, baby. I still want to watch the movie.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.”

“Of course I do.”

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. But ever since he’d started working from home – wait, he works from home? He shakes the question from his thoughts, saving it for later.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. And now you sit on his lap and he hates himself for the way a tear slips down your face, turned into a diamond from the reflection of the TV.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, heart aching in his chest. He leans back. He pulls you flush against his chest. You tuck your face in his neck, your favorite spot to nuzzle and he feels the gentle tuck of your mouth, the tiny suckle of your teeth against his neck. Your comfort.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely -

He doesn’t remember. What was he thinking about? He doesn’t know.

Yoongi loops his arms around you and squeezes you tight. And his eyes flutter shut, suddenly tired and lulled to sleep by the gentle pull of your mouth on his skin.

-

“Come look at this cat,” Yoongi laughs, crouching down on the back porch. The tabby rubs itself between his legs, purring as it twists figure eights. “It’s so friendly, baby. Come say hi.”

Night sky stretches over the city. It’s colder outside – almost Halloween, maybe. Yoongi lost the calendar in his house and he only turns the computer on if he has to sign on for work, which he rarely does these days.

You peek from the door, looking at the cat rubbing its face on Yoongi’s hand. He looks up at you and smiles. You’re swimming in a sweater of his, though your legs are bare. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you again – he can’t ever get enough, licking the sweetness from between your thighs only to finish by fucking himself into you until he blacks out.

The blackouts happen more after sex now.

“He’s sweet,” Yoongi promises, holding out another hand to you. “Like you.”

Tentatively, you step outside of the door. The floorboard creaks under your step, drawing the cat’s attention. It happens so fast that Yoongi falls from his crouched position, sitting abruptly on the floor. The cat lets out a terrible sound, somewhere between a horrible yowl and a hair-raising hiss.

A blur of claws and teeth, Yoongi yells as the sharp talons catch him, letting the cat go. It becomes a streak of fur and screeching, vanishing from the yard.

You rush to him, dropping down to hold his scratched hands, blood surfacing.

“No!” You look up at him, holding his hand gently to your chest. He feels the strange hum, the heartbeat that… isn’t a beating heart as much as a constant buzz. “Are you okay, Kitty? You’re hurt.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles. The fear in your eyes is heartwarming. You love him – he knows this. He feels it. “Sorry it startled you.”

-

Autumn sun beats down on Yoongi as he goes to peel logs from the stack of firewood in the backyard. As he jogs down the steps, he slows, frowning. There’s a dead tabby at the foot of the stairs, broken body and dark blood smeared underneath.

“Weird,” he mutters, rushing to get some firewood. “I’ve never seen cats here before. Poor thing.”

When he goes back inside the house, he sees you sitting on the counter. Spread. Finger tracing up and down glistening folds, swollen cunt begging for his mouth. Yoongi drops the wood. He zeros in, licking his lips as you spread your legs a little wider.

“What a perfect fucking pussy,” Yoongi grins. “That for me?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi forgets about the dead cat.

-

“I want candy.” Yoongi looks up at you, brows raised. You’re standing in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store, chewing your bottom lip as you look at him with hopeful eyes. Yoongi immediately softens. Feels his heart flutter. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” He looks up at the aisle names. “It’s three aisles over. Can you get what you want while I go back and get milk? I forgot.”

You hesitate for a moment, a moment of fear on your face. Before he can brush away your fears with a simple kiss, you take a deep breath and give him your bravest smile. He preens, proud as you give a confident nod and dart off in the direction of candy.

Yoongi is impressed by you. Leaving the house is hard for you – always has been. The two of you mostly stay inside, locked in your little world. Yoongi likes it that way. Loves knowing after dinner you’ll be nested on the couch, watching him with inquisitive eyes and asking him to put on a new show or to continue the anime you’ve been binging.

Every new experience for you brings stars to your eyes. He loves that about you – loves the way you go awestruck while watching old anime that Yoongi adores, or the way you hum and spin in circles to music he shows you.

Yoongi remembers hearing once that people live many lives. He thinks that if that’s true, you must be in your first life, curious about everything. Surprised by the world. And he gets to watch it over and over, the way you grin when something startles you or when you furiously pout because you don’t like something.

Grocery store trips are new for you. The first time, you’d been stitched to his side, refusing to separate from him. Cagey and flashing mean eyes at everyone. Now, though, Yoongi doesn’t worry as he pulls open one of the glass doors in the cold section, looking for milk.

“Yoongi?” He turns mid-reach for a carton of milk, the cold air hitting him in the face and turning his cheeks pink, glass frosting with the humidity rushing into the fridge. Taehyung is standing behind him, hands shoved into pockets. “Holy shit it is you.”

Yoongi gives Taehyung a funny smile, pulling the milk from the fridge and adding it to his cart. “Why wouldn’t it be? How are you?”

“Dude, how are you? You don’t answer anyone’s calls, I heard you started working at home from some sort of illness, and you refuse to answer your door when we come by.” Taehyung’s face is picture-perfect concern, brown eyes fixed on Yoongi, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Why can’t you tell us what’s going on? It’s been weeks.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to you two weeks ago.”

Taehyung cocks his head. His brows furrow and an unsettling feeling flips Yoongi’s stomach. He remembers the call exactly. Recites their conversation back to Taehyung, but before Yoongi can finish, his friend is shaking his head.

“We never had that conversation, Yoongi.”

Taehyung takes a step closer. Yoongi’s heart starts pounding. He remembers talking to Taehyung. He had been standing in the kitchen when his phone rang, and you had handed him his phone. Yoongi remembers because he had been half-paying attention to the conversation, transfixed by the way your eyes caught the light and the way you watched him catch up with Taehyung.

But… another thought swirls in Yoongi’s mind. A vision of you slamming the phone down on the counter, shattering it. Yoongi begging you to stop – stop something ­– and then your soft lips on him.

He shakes his head, setting the thoughts free.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asks, moving past his cart to get closer. Yoongi backs up. He doesn’t know why, but it’s automatic. He feels panic surge as Taehyung pauses. “Are you sick or-“

Maybe he is. Yoongi knows he talked to Taehyung and yet… doubt wiggles into his mind. Eats at it like a worm. There feels like there is a box somewhere tucked in the recesses of his memory, shielded and without a key. If he applies pressure on it, he gets a headache.

Licking his lips, Yoongi places his trembling hands on the cart. Looks at Taehyung. Sees the pleading in his friend’s eyes. Yoongi opens his mouth to ask when Taehyung thinks they last spoke and -

“Kitty?”

Your soft voice cuts the anxiety in half. Yoongi’s thoughts ease as you appear a few feet away from them, bags of candy in hand. Your doll face morphs into unease when you look at Taehyung. Yoongi wonders why that is – you’ve talked to Taehyung plenty of times. You encourage Yoongi to call him.

“You?” Taehyung asks. The vehemence in his voice startles Yoongi. “You’re still around? Jesus Yoongi, have you been shacked up with some girl you met at a bar this entire time?”

Words have consequences. Taehyung’s immediately has an effect, your expression going from soft and sweet to something that makes Yoongi’s hands grip the push-bar on the cart tightly.

“He has nothing to do with it.” Your voice is a layered hiss. A tingle slides down Yoongi’s neck – familiar and dangerous. He has the sudden urge to bolt, but his feet are rooted to the ground as you advance, putting yourself between the two men. “Yoongi hasn’t been feeling well. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I’m one of his best friends!”

Taehyung is one of his best friends. And Jimin. And Seokjin. Yoongi remembers sitting on a stool at Serendipity, listening to Old Ass Han tell him some superstition about female demons who snatched one of his sons in the middle of the night. Jimin had laughed so hard and made Old Ass Han so mad that Jimin covered his tab for the night.

It was such a funny memory that the next Halloween, Jimin had dressed up as a sultry, female demon. Yoongi vaguely recalls laughing with them into the night, especially when Jimin picked up a guy to go home with that night.

Yoongi is full of those memories – at least he was. He thinks he is.

The little place in his mind that feels inaccessible cracks a little and Yoongi winces, a headache splitting him open. He clutches his temple as a bolt of pain lances through his skull. Then your hands are on him, gentle and cradling his face. You’re saying something but he can’t hear you over the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Colors dance across his vision as Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pant through the pain. The pain doesn’t come from that tiny little box in his mind – it comes from somewhere else. Pulling him away from whatever is hidden there, in that dark little forgotten corner.

Suddenly, it becomes too much and darkness swallows him whole.

The last thing Yoongi remembers is the gentle kiss of your mouth on his neck.

-

Yoongi has a problem.

He’s getting headaches all the time. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night with them, sharp pain digging behind his eyes. It always worsens when he tries to recall the dreams he has before he wakes up – he knows he has dreams. They’re on the tip of his tongue. But the more he thinks about them, the more he tries to draw up what he imagined, the more the pain grows.

The bed sinks as you crawl in next to him. It’s too hot in bed. Sheets cling to Yoongi’s skin. He feels like there’s a furnace under the mattress, burning through and making everything sweaty and sticky. He shifts a little away from you – your body is always warm, skin heated with the thrum of energy beneath the surface.

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber. Your scent swells as you tuck yourself close to him. Not touching, but Yoongi can sense you there, an awareness tingling along his skin. It’s happened a few times, where a second awareness blinks an eye open and Yoongi feels on edge. Like there is suddenly an instinct inside of him that has awakened, one he is unfamiliar with.

That awareness yawns. Blooms at the back of his mind, where that same throbbing ache has settled. Yoongi tries to steady his breathing, but he can feel his pulse against his pillow, thumping faster and faster as your cloying scent muddles his thoughts.

You don’t say anything. You don’t reach out and touch him. You just lay there, silent and omnipresent. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, and for the first time in a very long time, he wishes that you would go to the other room and watch TV. You love watching TV. Sometimes he finds you sitting in front of it on the floor, knees tucked to your chest, chin on top of your knees while you watch a variety of shows.

Though it seems you have settled on Tokyo Ghoul as your favorite.

“Kitty?” you whisper. He holds his breath. Perhaps if he pretends he is asleep, you’ll go to sleep too. Long beats of silence stretch between you, filled only with the sound of Yoongi’s measured breathing. “I’m sorry.”

He pauses. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Yoongi swallows past a knot in his throat. Every muscle in his body is clenching. His fingers are fisted in his blankets, and he’s curled into a ball. He doesn’t remember feeling so braced. He tries to relax, letting himself melt in the bed a little.

“For what?”

“You… need space.”

He doesn’t need to turn around to hear the tremble in your voice. You sniffle a little. The lamp on his bed flickers, catching his attention. He watches the flicker of the bulb as you cry softly behind him. He wants to turn around – wants to gather you in his arms and tuck you into his chest and yet… he doesn’t.

“A little,” Yoongi admits softly.

“Okay.”

Licking his lips, Yoongi steels himself. He rolls over in bed to look at you. You’re buried in one of his hoodies and the blanket he likes to sleep with on the couch. He can barely make out your cherubic face. Your round eyes blink at him, pools of light in the darkness of the hoodie and blanket.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Okay.”

He softens. It’s not so warm in the bed anymore, so he reaches across the space, finding your hand clutched in the blanket. You let him pry your fingers open and he traces your palm. “Just a little space, okay? I can sleep on the couch tonight.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Baby-“

“I’m not tired.”

Your voice is firm. He knows that voice – it’s the one that precedes a tantrum if he’s not careful. He nods, pulling a hand away and sighing, closing his eyes. He is tired. He realizes just how tired he is.

“Good night, Kitty.”

-

Most days it’s easier to placate you.

Yoongi feels like he is worn at the edges. Hot water runs down his neck, his back. Relieves a deep ache that has begun to grow on his bones, pained turned lichen. He feels like a watercolor painting with too much liquid medium, running at the edges and blurring across a once-beautiful canvas.

Sleep comes every night, but Yoongi still wakes up tired. He misses meetings even though he has been working from home for… however long. He doesn’t know where his cell phone is. He lost it somewhere in the house – doesn’t need it much.

Water drips onto the floor as he steps out of the shower. He watches it run down milky legs, soaking into the towel. Steam permeates the air and slicks across the mirror, Yoongi’s reflection as opaque and bleary as he feels.

Yoongi heaves a heavy yawn, wiping a hand across the steam in preparation to shave. When his eyes look up at the three-paneled mirror, a shadowed creature with rows of gnashing teeth and red eyes is behind him.

A scream rips its way out of his throat, the terror is so awful that Yoongi’s knees buckles. He hits the tile hard, head smacking the cabinet. His world explodes into color as he blinks the stars from his eyes, scrambling with damp legs, slipping uselessly on the steamed tile as he backs himself into the corner of the wall and sink.

There’s nothing there. Just an open doorway.

For a few seconds, it’s just Yoongi’s heart pounding so hard that his stomach roils. He fumbles for the toilet, flipping the lid and rolling to his knees to heave the contents of dinner into the bowl. He gasps for air, stinging his vomit-burned throat as he throws up again. Stomach-churning. Lungs screaming.

When he flushes and settles against the bathtub, he hears the TV in the living room. Cool air drifts in from his bedroom. He closes his eyes and takes in deep breaths, counting in for seven and out for seven. There’s the soft patter of your feet on the carpet, and he can sense you in the doorway.

His spine always tingles when you’re around.

“Kitty? Are you okay?”

“Don’t feel good.”

“Oh kitty,” you whisper. He keeps his eyes closed. You slide closer to him and your hands are warm. When they touch his face, he feels a little energy pour back into him and he opens his eyes. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, still. “I’m sorry.”

“Why sorry?”

You chew on your lip. “I’m sorry.”

It feels like you say that a lot these days. Yoongi nods his head and closes his eyes again as you lean forward and press yourself to his side, giving him a gentle kiss.

-

The headache is bad. But he has to know. Lays in his bed writhing in the sheets.

Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts.

Memories crack across his mind, each one hurting more than the last.

A creature of shadow. Blacking out after sex. A dead cat that hadn’t always been dead. Your innocent eyes. Your angry eyes. You smashing his phone to pieces. A doctor forging him a medical note. Blood on your hands and face as you came out of the doctor’s office.

-

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi has energy. He feels more himself. Clearer. He gets up early in the morning and makes himself coffee. He sees you lurking near the fridge, throwing him wary glances. You’re a little more worn than usual: sallow cheeks, bags under your eyes. Your eyes are as starry.

When he asks you what’s wrong, you don’t answer. You duck into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind you. He stares, a little confused and hurt before sighing. You’re touchy sometimes, and on the days like this where you’re more like a feral cat than a preening girlfriend, he knows to keep his distance.

Yoongi shrugs and tosses the sugar packet in the trash, frowning. There are empty bottoms of foam that are stained red - meat packages, he realizes. He doesn’t recall having steak at all this week, but perhaps you’re thawing it in the fridge for dinner.

He shrugs and goes to his office, leaving you to your devices.

A morning meeting kickstarts his day, and Yoongi forgets about it.

-

Yoongi has a problem.

You’re worse. You don’t want to come out of his room and you won’t go near the light. There are harsh lines around your eyes and he swears your teeth are sharper. More lethal. You won’t sleep in the same bed as he is.

Worst of all? Yoongi feels great. Feels like perhaps it was just a depressive episode he was in. He no longer feels like he is melted together at the edges, barely hanging on. But it does mean that he’s getting frustrated with you.

“Feral,” he mutters as he walks into his office after you snarled at him and then proceeded to cry because you wanted him to take the day off. “Sometimes I swear she is feral.”

-

Soft lips wake Yoongi up in the middle of the night. He stirs, feeling a tingle run down his spine. He can smell cedar, jasmine and amber and smiles. You’re pressed against him, mouth seeking his delicately, though there is some urgency behind your kisses.

Yoongi opens his mouth to you, an invitation. You suck his tongue into your mouth greedily and arousal shoots to his cock, your mouth doing wonders on his tongue. Fuck he knows you like to suck him off like that too, all greedy and sloppy and spit-slicked.

Your hands pull at his shirt and you kiss him with more fervor, lips becoming teeth, moans becoming hisses. When Yoongi rolls onto his back, pulling your hips on top of him, the dynamic changes.

A gasp escapes his kiss-bruised lips, eyes flying open as you mark his throat. Harsh stings of teeth followed quickly by lavish licks of your tongue. It’s messy and you leave a trail of spit dripping down his neck, making him squirm underneath you, cock tight against his pajama shorts.

“Fuck,” he moans when you suck that spot under his ear he loves. “Greedy devil.”

“Yes,” you shoot back, voice firm. Your hands seek his, pulling them from where they massage your ass to pin them above his head, your grip iron. “Please.”

There’s no way she’s human.

Taehyung’s words flash through Yoongi’s mind when he looks up at you. Your pupils are dilated, two black disks that absorb the barest hint of light in the room. He shivers, afraid of falling into your dark eyes and never finding his way back home.

Have your eyes always been that soulless? No, he thinks.

“Please,” you say again. “Please let me have you.”

He frowns. “You can always have me.”

You shake your head. “Not always. Too much. I take… I take too much. But now not enough. I just…” Your lip trembles and where you hold his wrist begins to ache. He whimpers and you hush him, your fingers loosening a little. “I just need some. Not a lot.”

It’s hard to understand what you’re asking for. Yoongi is lost in the sensation of fluttering in his stomach and the way blood rushes through his body. He feels high when you dip one of your hands below the waistband of his pajamas, taking a hold of his cock in your hand, thumb brushing precum from the tip.

You always take care of Yoongi. His eyes flutter shut as he feels a steady static build in his brain. Your touch is careful but deliberate, each stroke of your hand and squeeze of his shaft sending him spinning. His hips twitch under you.

When you shift down his body, he lifts his lower half off the bed, kicking at the sheets and letting you tug his bottoms down. He’s shaking and eager, unable to look down at you when you take him fully in your hand, tongue tasting the stickiness at his tip.

“Fuck,” he whispers. His hands are still above him, twisted in the pillowcase. He leaves them there, helpless as you tongue the head of his dick before sucking it into your mouth. Your tongue is gentle and your mouth is warm, the barest of sucks making him whine. “Don’t tease me.”

You hum and the vibrations make him speechless. His head rolls to the side, mouth parted, panting as he sees stars. You suck him eagerly, messily. He hears the wet pull of your mouth, the choked cough of your throat when you take him in deep and swallow.

Gentle nails scratch down his legs. He feels like he’s disconnected from the rest of the world, a single strand tethering him as he floats. He babbles as you take him in deep, a hand reaching down below his balls, a single, shy finger pressing against his tight rim.

Everything inside of Yoongi goes taught. He comes immediately and without warning. Spills in your mouth and the world fades away. There is nothing where he goes. No memories, no thoughts, no anxiety. It’s just Yoongi and he feels good – the kind of warm from a bubble bath laden with creams and salts.

Eventually, he comes back down. Opening his eyes, Yoongi sees you blink down at him. You smile, brushing light finger strokes over flushed cheeks. He grins up at you, elated. Hypnotized. You’re so… he doesn’t know the word.

There’s no way she’s human.

That phrase makes Yoongi’s smile falter. You are exquisite. Shrouded in darkness. Yoongi feels the press of unfamiliar air. When he looks beyond you, there’s just darkness. There is nothing. No light streams in from the window again. There is no soft hum of the nightlight in the bathroom where he usually leaves the door open now.

It’s just you.

Yoongi’s heart begins to speed up, panic rising.

You kiss him softly. It’s sweet and his anxiety melts away. Feels the weight of you on your hips, wet pussy dripping on his thigh. You’re being patient, which surprises him. Usually by now you’re needy, grinding your cunt on his thigh to seek friction.

“I want more,” you whisper against his mouth, fingers pressed into his cheeks. “Will you give me more?”

He nods. You lick his mouth, sighing contentedly as you roll your hips on his thigh. He moans, feeling the glide of your bare folds against his leg. You are always so ready for him, eager to take him. Easy to please. Excited to take what you want.

Shaking above him, you bury your face in his neck. Yoongi slides his hands from their position above his head, resting one hand on your thigh and sliding the other between your legs. Sticky arousal greets him, his fingers brushing up and down your cunt as you stop grinding, letting him take control.

“Kitty,” you beg, words muffle in his neck. He grins, eyes half-lidded as he plays with you. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi sinks two fingers in your greedy hole, feeling the way your walls flutter around him. It doesn’t matter how many times he buries his fingers, cock or tongue in you – every time is divine. Feels like something holy, taking him somewhere else.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he murmurs, pressing a thumb to your clit. “Come on, baby. Wanna see you make a mess on my hands first.”

“Want your cock.”

“Fingers first, baby. Come on, you can do it.”

A growl rips through your frame. Yoongi stills under you for a moment, heart skipping. But then you move your hips and he hears your soft breath. Feels the drip down his hand. He grins, feeling you swallow his fingers as you work yourself on him, his thumb circling your clit lazily.

Nails dig into his thighs as you lean backward, spreading yourself for him. He can barely make out your figure in the darkness, but he can see the swell of your chest, the line of your neck as you toss your head back, his name falling from flushed lips and floating up to the ceiling.

When you come, it’s wet and loud. He hums, pulling drenched fingers from your legs. He surges forward, surprising you and moving you backward, letting your head bounce near the foot of the bed as he cages you in, stealing a kiss.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging and whining and rubbing against his thigh again, begging sweetly. No one has ever wanted Yoongi the way you do. Ever. He cannot recall a single time someone has been as vigorous in their pursuit.

It makes him hard again, the rush in his veins igniting once more as he slides into you. He pushes in to the hilt, settling there for a moment. You clench around him, clawing at the back of his neck and thrashing under him. Begging for more. Always wanting more. Swearing you just need a little more.

Yoongi sets a slow pace, stroking deep with a purpose. You gasp every time he fucks all the way into you. He grins against your sweaty neck, tongue licking a stripe up your salty skin. You turn your face and catch his mouth with yours, swapping more spit than kissing, moaning into one another’s mouths.

An orgasm winds tightly in Yoongi’s stomach. He feels it at the base of his spine this time, a second sense tingling as he picks up speed, slamming into you until you’re crying under him, babbling again in something that sounds like a language but isn’t quite.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck –“ He grits his teeth and the moment he comes, you squeeze him like a vice, shouting and pulling him into an orgasm so hard that he feels himself fall on top of you, the energy leaving him as quickly as his orgasm had gathered.

At some point, he falls asleep.

-

Hell on earth is waking up battered and torn at the seams. You’re out in the living room, enjoying an early morning episode of Tokyo Ghoul again. He hears you giggle at the TV and he lifts his head in the shower. The rush of the hot water is loud, but the sound of you laughing is in his head.

It always feels like you’re in his head.

Yoongi stumbles when he gets out of the shower. His feet are heavy and there is pain behind his eyes. The throbbing kind that makes him turn the lights out and shoot a text to work telling them he needs a sick day. How many sick days has he had this year? He has no idea.

Yoongi stumbles to the mattress and collapses into the sheets. Everything feels heavy like he is made of glass bones with the weight of the world threatening to break him.

Sleep comes and goes. It doesn’t make him less tired. Yoongi places a hand on his forehead.  He is not over-warm, but he wants to cry, the ache in every muscle so real that it takes him several tries to say your name.

You appear immediately, hovering at the edge of the bed in his hoodie, wrapped in a blanket.

“Are you feeling sick, Kitty?” He nods and you sniff. “I’m so sorry, Kitty… do you want some water?”

Yoongi nods again and you vanish. He rolls onto his back, groaning. He reaches for his phone. The screen is cracked from some incident or another, but it’s mildly legible as he searches his symptoms online.

When you come back with water, he thanks you with a sweet kiss and smiles when you lick his nose affectionately before darting out of the room again. He hears the show start again.

Carefully, Yoongi tries to sit up a bit. The water is cooled with two cubes – just the way he likes it – and it helps staunch the thirst. He drains the entire glass, but still, he aches with exhaustion that has no name.

Every combination he can think of brings Yoongi undesirable results. He has the fatigue of many different illnesses, but not any of the others. Mono seems the most likely, but still, it doesn’t feel right.

Yoongi considers and then types a new search: constant exhaustion after sex.

The results make him roll his eyes. He knows he’s going to get several ads for erectile dysfunction medication, but he scrolls anyways. Maybe he’s just fucking you that hard. But he does remember blacking out after sex and… well he never feels great the next day.

Slowly tapping through pages, Yoongi sighs. There’s nothing that provides much thought beyond Yoongi knowing he’s had too much sex. You’re a starving little thing, constantly wanting –

A word catches his attention: succubus.

Yoongi snorts when he opens the article. It’s a weird string of evangelical stories and musings, and overly sexualized depictions of female demons with generous breasts, shapely figures, and cute little bat wings.

The succubus needs sexual desire and energy to survive. He scoffs and wonders what heterosexual male wrote that dream.

Repeated sexual activity with a succubus will result in a bond being formed between the succubus and the host.

“Romantic,” Yoongi deadpans, scrolling up to close out the article. But a drawing catches Yoongi’s eye - a shadowy figure with rows and rows of teeth and red eyes. “Huh.”

Clicking on it, the page loads to a Reddit thread. Yoongi curses when he has to download the app, but his fingers move of their own volition, tapping across the screen as he creates a login and reopens the thread.

There are streams and streams of comments and links on the thread, a little overwhelming. As expected, it sounds like most heterosexual men overly-sexualizing women or asking about roleplaying – and yet, there’s a thread with a lot of upvotes that he clicks on.

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures following me. Yoongi licks his lips, feeling his mouth go dry as he continues. Blackouts after sex. Not able to remember life before meeting entity. Dead animals –

“Kitty?” Yoongi flinches, dropping the phone on his stomach, hand covering his chest as his heart pounds in his ribcage. You blink in surprise, cocking your head where you stand in the doorway. A sense of dread draws a slow finger down Yoongi’s spine as he stares at you. “Do you want to come watch with me? We can put on Spirited Away.”

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures-

“Kitty?” Yoongi has waited too long to reply. He nods his head and clears his throat. He wants to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being, shoving the phone away from him as he slowly peels himself out of bed. You grin and hold out a hand. “Thanks.”

-

Like a cat, you’re curled on the couch. Yoongi gives you a wide berth as he walks to his office. Night has passed into morning, and the flash of the screen lights the way as he opens the door, slipping through a tiny crack before he closes it softly and firmly behind him.

While watching movies, Yoongi could not help but think about the thread he had seen. He doesn’t turn the light on, too afraid of it showing under the door and tipping you off where he is.

Fear settles in the pit of his stomach. His hands are shaky as he wakes up the mouse, the computer light nearly blinding in the dark room. He jams the settings on the keyboard, turning it down a bit as he settles into the chair, taking a few breaths.

It feels ridiculous. You’re his girlfriend, not a sex-craving demon. But Yoongi finds the thread again anyways, clicking through and going back to that original subthread of people claiming to have survived an encounter with a succubus.

Time doesn’t seem to pass as Yoongi reads. He leans on his hand, eyes burning as he clicks through story after story.

Met at a bar – she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I never remember going home with her, but my life was suddenly consumed by her. I lost my job and my friends. Felt good at first, but started getting headaches any time I would try to remember something. And she was always around, always lurking around every corner.

Yoongi clicks on to the next one, stomach flipping nervously.

- I ran into a friend and she swore we hadn’t spoken in months. I remember talking to her but it felt like… they were false memories. Like I didn’t really do those things. It was strange, but I forgot again after a while.

Taehyung’s face flashes in Yoongi’s mind. His palms get sweaty as he navigates the mouse, leaning closer toward the screen. A nervous beat starts to drum up in his heart as he pours over the words and the accounts of others.

The evidence is damning, but it can’t be possible, right?

Yoongi thinks of Old Ass Han telling the story of his son being swept up by a she-demon. Yoongi doesn’t think the story is very funny anymore, and the thought of Jimin dressing up as one makes him nauseous.

Carefully, he navigates to another thread.

I was lucky. She didn’t want to kill me, but she was constantly hungry for more energy that I didn’t have. She would get cagey and feral, hissing at me and hiding in the dark, like she was weaker in the sun when she wasn’t fed. I would find packs and packs of meat rotting in the garbage like she was trying to get her fix elsewhere.

I hope that you take this thread seriously. They are real. And while they look and talk like people, they aren’t. They might grow attached to you, but they don’t love you. You are a meal – and if your succubus is only feeding off of sex, it’s only a matter of time before they need more.

Think Jennifer’s Body, people.

Yoongi has never seen that movie before. He clicks away from the thread and pulls up the trailer. It seems a little ridiculous, but he gets the idea. Sex, eat the guy, move on to the next. But you certainly have never tried to eat him.

So Yoongi clicks back to the thread and searches for something new. How to get rid of a succubus.

He leans back while the page loads, switching to a white screen. This bright, the monitor reflects what’s in front of it, Yoongi’s round and tired face, pale from lack of sleep, and a looming shadow behind him. His stomach plummets and he goes rigid in the chair, frozen with fear.

Yoongi smells cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

"Kitty is looking at bad things,” you sniffle. Your shadow grows in the computer monitor and Yoongi swears he sees the white flash of teeth before his world turns red. "I loved you, Kitty."

[elena-mayfair]

Through Hell

Paring: Morpheus x f!reader, Sandman x f!reader Warnings: swearing, blood, adult themes, horror images, possible triggers Summary: Witch and Dream of and Endless were sitting on the couch and drinking afternoon tea. Wait, that is not what happened. He was sitting on the couch and drinking tea and you were preparing a ritual for summoning a demon. You had a great plan, you just wanted to save him a trip down there. But it all went to hell, literally. Word count: 6.1k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors

Part one: Lost in the dream Part two: Back in the dream Part three: Through the Dreaming Part four: In the Waking World Part five: Before the Nightmare Part six: Through the Nightmare

***

"We are in Hell," Morpheus said, and by taking two steps forward, positioned himself in front of you, hiding you behind his back. In your eyes it looked as if he didn't want to hide you from hell but as if he wanted to hide hell from you, to obscure your view, to spare you the image of the horror that unfolded before you.

"Hell?" you uttered, "Like as in Hell, Hell…Hooolyyy fuck…" your mind became a black dull blank void for a moment. All you could do was stare numbly at the Gates of Hell spreading before you. Somehow they reminded you of the gates to the Dreams’ Realm, however, even in its complete ruin Dreaming was a hundred times more beautiful than what you were just looking at. "Am I…" you hesitated, "Am I dead?" you asked.

"No," he looked at you with concern, "You are not."

"Oh, that's good…" your mind started spiraling with thousand questions, "Yeah! Not dead is definitely good! How the hell did we got here?!" you saw Morpheus's side look, "fuck, poor choice of words, you right. How the fuck did we got here?!" you corrected yourself. The thoughts in your head began to rush so fast that you couldn't keep up with them. You performed that spell on multiple occasions, you trusted your skills, you quickly replayed in your mind every step, every element, every spoken word, and you decided that even with Morpheus in your home slightly distracting you, you made no mistake. The ritual was perfect. But that voice "But I am here…" that voice that you heard in your head right before everything went to shit, that wasn't Morpheus's voice. Memory of that tender, kind and sweet voice made you shiver with chills, not in a good way. You were scared. "Morpheus…" you started.

"You have to go back," he stopped you and sharply turned back at you, "You have to go back to the Waking World. Now."

"What?!! No!!" you protested. With Morpheus now standing face to face with you, you saw over his shoulder a monstrous creature approaching the gate. He grabbed you by your arms and gently shook you.

"I will not have you arguing with me right now!" the endless depth of his voice demanded your attention, "Hell is not a place for the living Y/N," he added, you could see that stars in his eyes were shining with concern, "You should not be here."

"You said the same thing about me being in your Realm," you smirked but upon seeing his angered face you instantly regretted that.

"I am taking you back," he stated leaving no place for an argument.

"I really don't like that commanding tone of yours," you argued anyway. The sound of heavy footsteps coming from the depths of Hell reached your ears. You could see the shape of the monster, a demon in his true form, he was huge, bigger than any creature you have ever seen before. For a split second you considered that perhaps you should listen to Morpheus, perhaps you should do what he commands you to do. "I'm staying," you rose your eyes to meet his. Though of leaving came and went with a blink of an eye.

"No, you are not!" Morpheus' perfect cold demeanor has disappeared replaced by genuine care and frustration, "You don't listen, you never listen…"

"I know…" you placed one hand on his chest, "I'm stubborn like that. But listen to me for a moment, please…"

"Y/N," he attempted to stop you. The demon shape was getting closer to the gate, you could hear jangling keys in one of his unbelievably big hands.

"Before everything went to … well to hell, I heard a voice in my head. It was strange, sort of soft and kind, melodic, and at the same time ominous," a stream of words rushed from your mouth, "My spell was perfect! I made no mistakes! I think whoever's voice it was, it brought us here," you stared at the endless black universe in Morpheus' eyes, the stars seemed to dance for you, but their light seemed to dim, to fade, replaced by something you had not yet seen in him. Power. Anger.

"Lucifer," he growled making your body freeze for a moment.

"I'm staying…" you insisted quietly.

Morpheus looked at you in silence for a brief moment, the stars in his eyes appeared to dance across your face as if seeking to understand.

"Why…" he moved his hands slightly up on your shoulders making you think that he wanted to touch your face. He stopped in mid-way, "Why you are so persistent? Why do you want to go with me to Hell itself?" he reached out his hand and cupped your cheek. You allowed yourself to close your eyes and feel his touch with every fiber of your body. It felt like being touched by stormy, heavy clouds on a rainy night. Unimaginable, soft, yet solid, like snow touching the highest peaks of the highest mountains. "Why would you enter Hell with me?"

"Because I want to," you opened your eyes and looked directly into the galaxy itself, "Because I believe that no one had your back for a very long time."

The clench of a lock behind you made you both aware of a demon's presence. Finally, you could see his figure up close, a huge gray mass covered in wounds and scars, with two dead black points in place of eyes and a disgusting grin.

The depth in Morpheus's eyes was indecipherable. You couldn't tell whether underneath it was a surprise, wonder, or perhaps relief, a sense of understanding. His lips twitched in his typical nonsmile and froze like the lips of a statue. The blackness of his eyes suddenly became deeper than you thought was possible, and for a moment you felt as if you were no longer looking into the galaxy but into boundless terrifying depths of black matter. Suddenly, individual stars flared with a cold mighty glow. This made you realize…you were looking at the King.

He slowly turned to face the demon and spoke in a commanding tone.

"Greetings Squaterbloat," his voice echoed like the sound of a thunderstorm, "I seek an audience with your sovereign."

The demon only chuckled growlingly.

"And who you might be?" the demon asked, his voice growling like the sounds of a wild beast.

"I am the King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realm," Morpheus's voice boomed from the depths of the universe.

"Yes my clown," the demon mockingly bowed his head, "So where is your crown?"

"Guard your tongue demon," Morpheus warned, a dangerous smile painted itself on his face, "The Ruler of Hell will not be kind to one who insults an honored guest. And I am an honored guest in this realm as I am a monarch of my own."

"So where is your ruby?" the demon taunted.

A wicked smile appeared on Morpheus' face as he walked closer to the gate and spoke in his husky voice.

"Should I use it to haunt your dreams? And your waking hours too?" Morpheus looked gravely at the demon, and you could have sworn that the demon seemed to wither away under the pressure of his tone, "Or will you open the Gates of Hell and let us through?"

The demon did not dare to mock him again. He only lowered his head and used his brass keys to open the gates.

"Now, take us to the palace," he commanded.

***

The road through hell turned out to be not the road through chasms of lava, fire, and erupting volcanoes as you assumed it would be. Immediately outside the gate lay a stretch of devastated land, scorched to the ground, land that had not seen a drop of rain since the dawn of time. The air smelled of a combination of decay and burning, the stench of burnt human bodies making your insides squirm sickly. Despite the horror sharpening your senses, you tried to take in the entire landscape with your eyes, after all, it's not often one has the opportunity to enter hell while alive.

You stayed close to Morpheus by following his lead closely. "Get lost in hell, that wouldn't be fun," you thought as you saw the sudden change in direction. Morpheus would glance over his shoulder at you from time to time like he was checking to see if your determination had not left you yet.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked with a barely audible voice moving away from the demonic guide and matching his step with yours.

"Do you even have a penny?" you smirked at him, "Honestly? I'm hungry," you frowned with a childish grin.

"Hungry?" utter amusement painted itself on Morpheus's face, "you are crossing Hell to meet the Lightbringer, Lord of this Realm, and you are complaining that you are hungry?"

"Hey don't mock me mister!" you wagged your finger playfully at him, "I had a dinner in the oven prepared for us. I was thinking that after summoning we will have some time to," you felt a slight blush coating your cheeks, "you know, talk, and have a dinner together."

"Why do you think that?" he asked, but it didn't sound like a mockery of your idea, more like a surprise that such an idea had occurred to you. To you, it sounded like he was surprised that you wanted to have dinner with him.

"Well, you eat right?" you glanced, "And believe it or not but I do cook. And I'm pretty damn good at it! So yeah, dinner looked at that time like a pretty good plan," you explained, "I thought it might be a good idea you know? And besides you are very courteous My Lord, you would not refuse me." you smiled wickedly.

"Hold on to that thought Y/N," Morpheus' face hardened as he saw the dark forest stretching out before you, "May it bring you strength for the road ahead."

***

The land in front of you suddenly changed beyond recognition, as if in a split second you were transported to a completely different place. Far had been gone the endless stretches of dead land, a gloomy dark forest unfolded before your eyes. Ash covered the ground, with every step you took, it rose into the air making it difficult to breathe. You took a cautious step and flinched when something crunched under your heavy boots. "Please let it be branches, let it be fucking branches," you repeated in your mind, "Fuck!" you looked down at the human bones concealed beneath the heavy dustfall, they cracked and crunched under every step you took.

"Any idea where we are?" you asked quietly, "It's like we've been transported to a different place."

"The landscape is subject to the whims of the Morningstar," Morpheus started explaining.

"Ah, Lucifer Morningstar, how ironic…” you muttered, “Don't you find it ironic? I find it utterly ridiculous, and kind of funny being honest," you continued more briskly, "Well, because how did the angle, the most powerful and beautiful of them all, the most beloved by God, fall to this shithole."

Morpheus, hearing your words, only raised an eyebrow and continued walking.

"“How you are fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How you are cut down to the ground, You who weakened the nations!" you quoted, "Thou sealest up the sum, full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty. Thou hast been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was thy covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of thy tabrets and of thy pipes was prepared in thee in the day that thou wast created!"

"That last part was about the Man, not about Lucifer," Morpheus noted and tilted his head slightly in your direction, "A Witch quoting the bible, that's ironic."

"I believe this is open for interpretation, especially if you read through the whole chapter," you smirked, "and don't be so surprised! I've read the bible, it's a source of knowledge like any other! Anyways, I can't imagine that he is that beautiful if he surrounds himself with all of this!"

"You should choose your words more wisely, Lucifer is not someone you can mock and not suffer the consequences," Morpheus warned.

"You sound like you know each other," you pointed, "Is he as powerful as you are?"

"Saving only the Creator, Lucifer is perhaps, the most powerful being there is," he explained.

"More powerful than you?" for a split second you saw dark clouds gathering in his eyes.

"By far. Especially now," he replied in a way that made you think that he was not eager to admit that, "The last time I was here, I was an honored guest. An envoy from my own Kingdom," he continued, "This time I've been brought down here by force, with you alongside me," his eyes glanced in your direction, "and I lack my symbols of office." he added.

"Yeah, but it's not like without them you are no longer a Dream of the Endless," you argued, "They've been stolen from you and I'm sure he knows that!"

"He does," he agreed, "That is not what's worry me the most."

"What is then?" you had to quicken your pace to keep up with him.

"I'm sure he knows what you did to that demon…" he said without looking at you.

You didn't have to see his face to know how he felt. Images of that night flew before your eyes. Morpheus standing in the doorway of the living room, commanding you to stop, demanding your obedience. The demon trying to cough out that you can't kill him. At that moment you thought that the demon simply wanted to save its existence. You didn't listen to Morpheus because, being your stubborn self, you took it as a point of honor not to take orders from anyone. The power within you raged with the desire to break free, you thought the demon was mocking you, that he didn't think you could kill him. So in spite of everything you did it, you tore him to pieces thus ending his existence. But now, walking through the dust-covered roads of Hell, breathing in the fumes of death, you couldn't help but think that perhaps you should listen to Morpheus after all.

The sudden change of environment snapped you out of your thoughts. Out of nowhere, a winding road appeared in front of you, leading up towards the towering rocks in the midst of which a narrow path was baking.

"Oh I'm not going up there," you stopped.

"This is the path we must take," Morpheus stated.

"Oh for fuck sake!" you exclaimed, "I smoke Morpheus! Have you seen how much I smoke?!" you bickered, "Damn…I should have quit!"

"You should have," his lips twitched with the smallest of smirks and he continued walking. And so did you.

***

You climbed up a winding thin road towards the top. You took each of your steps carefully, thanking yourself that long ago you ditched your hills in favor of comfortable Doc Martens. One false step threatened a fall into the infinite abyss, looking down you imagined that fall would never end. The path slowly changed from a passage between rocks to a narrow rock shelf leading right up to the wall. You had to cling with your back to the rock to fit your feet on the ground. Above your head, you had a red sky streaked with black suffocating clouds, below you an infinite abyss, and in front of you an unfazed Morpheus. He had one hand outstretched back guarding your every movement, your every step, every louder breath you took made his eyes look at you with concern. Your frantic thoughts could not stop even in the face of faint death. You wondered why he allowed you to go with him, why he didn't make you go back, why he didn’t forcibly drag you back to the real world. Was it your attitude that convinced him, or the way you never made yourself smaller in your dealings with him, or perhaps it was the words you said to him? Words that, when spoken aloud, surprised even you, words in which you believed deeply. In your eyes, Morpheus seemed so lonely, so abandoned, as if he hadn't called anyone his friend for millennia.

"Does this look like a way to the palace to you," you breathed out with a shaky voice.

"A demon has a hundred motives for anything he does," Morpheus reached out and placed his hand securely on your forearm seeing the path narrowing down even more, "All of them malevolent," he explained. "Demon!" he called your guide and stopped in his steps, "This is not the way."

In response, the demon only chuckled and continued his walk.

You slipped your arm out of Morpheus' grip and wove your fingers between his. His grip made it difficult for you to move, by holding his hand you had more control over your body. For a brief moment, you felt as if it took Morpheus by surprise, for a moment his hand seemed as hard as marble stone under yours only to relax a moment later and intertwine his fingers with yours, tightening them securely. He looked at you, worry and care painted itself on his face for a moment only to give way to a sudden display of pain and grief.

"Kai'ckul" an unknown name directed toward Morpheus reached your ears and you saw as if the rock wall suddenly morphed into the bars of a prison cell. You felt Morpheus's body tensed upon hearing this word. He slowly turned away from you and, and while still holding your hand, he looked at the cell.

"Dream Lord?" a woman's voice asked from the depth of her cell. "It is you…" she whispered and ran towards the bars. She looked at Morpheus with glistering eyes, tears falling down her cheeks.

"I greet you, Nada" Morpheus spoke with a stern, cold voice.

"Kai'ckul," she whispered, "How I prayed for this day. I knew you would come."

For a brief moment Morpheus remained quiet, his posture like a statue, only his eyes betrayed a deep sense of sadness and pain.

"It pains me to see you like this," his eyes rested on the weeping woman's face.

"Then free me, My Lord," she pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. "Only your forgiveness can free me," she hesitated and spoke again, "Do you not still love me?"

This time your own body tensed upon hearing her question. Were they ever in love? What did she have to do that made him condemn her to eternal damnation?

"It has been ten thousand years, Nada," he spoke quietly and looked deeply in her eyes, "Yes. I still love you," he added sincerely, "But I have not yet forgiven you." And with that words his cold demeanor returned to his face. His fingers found their place in your hand again, his thumb barely brushed the back of your hand as if he wanted to tell you something, then he clasped them securely and pulled gently so you would follow him.

You could hear her distant voice crying, begging, swearing that she would never give up. Yet, Morpheus remained unmoved by all this. He was not someone who would say things that he would later regret, that he would want to take back. You learned early on that every word he said, and he didn't say many, was precisely the word he wanted to say as if there was no need to say any less or more. And so he did…he said exactly what he wanted to say and moved on forward without looking back.

You followed led by him quietly, afraid to speak up. After all, what could you possibly say that would make him feel better? And yet, the desire to say, to do anything that would make that barely visible smile appear on Morpheus' lips and would bring those amused dancing stars to his endless eyes, that desire ignited in you with burning fire. Desire…feeling that you long had forgotten, feeling that you killed within yourself a long time ago. And yet, here you were, following Dream of The Endless through the Hell itself, pondering what could you do to make him smile again. "He needs that, he deserves that," you thought to yourself, "He really hadn't had any friend in a long time."

But they were not friends, that you were sure of. And here, in the deepest and darkest pits of Hell, surrounded on all sides by death and despair, you couldn't help but wonder: "What would it be like to love him? What would it be like to be loved by him?". For some reason this thought never crossed your mind before, and even if it tried you quickly drowned it out with others, killing it before it could even begin to develop. Yes, he fascinated you, but how could a literal anthropomorphic embodiment of dreams not fascinate you? Being near to him was an experience of the senses, body, and spirit as if you were seeing the world with your eyes for the first time as if you were feeling long-forgotten feelings once again. Happiness, excitement, fascination, childlike wonder and amazement, a sense of thrill, the danger of uncertainty, power, passion, Desire. You were the human being who entered the Dreaming, you were the human being whom the Dream Lord asked for help, you were the human being who willingly followed him into Hell. "What would it be like to be loved by him…" the thought flashed through your mind and suddenly made you wish you hadn't witnessed that scene.

"Morpheus…" you started quietly, your voice small, barely audible, "That woman back there… you were in love…" you stated more than asked.

"Yes," he replied with a stern voice, his eyes drifted in the distance like in a search of a past memory, "Her name is Nada. She was the ruler of a tribe that called themselves the First People." he continued and you could clearly see that recollection of that memory brought him nothing but pain. "We were in love."

"What happened to her," you mustered in the most gentle voice you possibly could. You didn't want to bring him pain, but at that moment your curiosity was stronger than your logic. It amazed you to see how quickly his face changed, pain gave way to anger.

"She defied me," he replied.

And with that words, you knew that to love him was like loving infinity itself, endangering, impossible.

***

The road in the middle of the rocks creaked one last time to open up a narrow passage in between. The land in front of you changed once again in the blink of an eye only to reveal a fog-covered burial ground. In front of you now was a small iron arch that once must have been a gate. Behind it, a path on both sides decorated with iron crosses indicated the path. Beyond it, all you could see were dry sparsely standing trees and soft candlelight barely discernible through the fog. It was the cemetery. As if hearing the upcoming question Morpheus squizzed your hand gently and spoke.

"It is a graveyard of those who have their place in Hell. Each condemned first ends up here only to be awakened again to the eternal damnation. Lucifer leaves their monuments as a reminder to every visitor of what awaits them after Death claims them."

"Cemetery…" you whispered and yanked your hand from Morpheus' hold. Despite his protests, you jumped off the path and ran straight into the fog. The tombstones swarmed, piled one on top of the other, some marked with crosses, others illuminated by a single candle. Tearing through the fog, you saw more and more of them appear with every glance as if they wanted to surround you, swallow you, bury you within the dead earth. With a desperate glare, you looked from one to the other, searching for names, surnames, but they were all blank, plain. Plain stone covered only with dust made up every one of them. You grabbed one of the candles and fell to your knees beside one of them, tears involuntarily came rushing to your eyes as you began to scrape the ash off the slab with frantic motions.

"Your parents are not here Y/N," you heard behind your back Morpheus's calming voice, he crouched down beside you and lightly touched your shoulder, "They do not belong here."

"You don't know that," you muttered and swiped away a tear that fell down your cheek, "My mother was an apodictic and manipulative bitch, a fucking control freak. She didn't love me selflessly, she only loved me when I played her perfect imaginary daughter." you gritted and kept swiping never ending dust.

"They are not here," Morpheus stopped your hand in mid motion, "The Morningstar is letting us know that Hell has prepared for our visit." he gently brought you up from your knees and made you turn around to look at he was seeing.

The fog that surrounded you completely disappeared, and a dreary dark castle appeared to your eyes. If not for the light coming from the entrance in the middle you would have thought it was another towering mountain. Yet, on a rock amidst the peaks and tattered towers rose a huge gloomy castle. You were there.

***

The last part of the road you walked in complete silence. You did not hesitate when Morpheus demanded that you be sent back to your normal world. But now, standing in front of a gate in the shape of a giant upturned pentagram, burning with ominous flame, guarded by two demonic horned statues, you could not help but reflect on the logic behind your choices. After all, you were about to face Lucifer himself, which made your heart forget how to beat for a moment.

Morpheus suddenly stopped in mid-step and turned to face you. With one hand he embraced and opened yours only to cover it with the other. In his eyes you could see again that indecipherable depth, the one you couldn't name. He said nothing, just looked straight into your eyes, as if words had no meaning here. He moved his hand away only to reveal a tiny vial of sand placed in your open palm. You looked at him with a questioning gaze, and he replied….

"My sand will take you back if I can't return with you," he said quietly, then turned and stepped royally toward the opening door.

The ground began to shake under your feet and the castle gates split open pouring streams of black blood under your feet. You took cautious steps following Morpheus into the uninviting darkness, blood splatter under your boots, and your heart suddenly began to pound as if it wanted to burst out of your chest. The gate closed behind you and darkness flooded you completely. Not knowing how despite the unforgiving darkness you continued to see Morpheus walking two steps in front of you. You shoved the vial deep into the pocket of your jeans, took a deep breath calming your raging heart, and followed him. Soon the darkness gave way to light, revealing before you a round room all around decorated with black marble pillars. In the middle of it stood a huge hearth, burning with cold fire, and behind it, Lucifer, menacingly spreading his wings. Dressed entirely in white, with golden curls adorning his head, he folded his wings and turned toward you.

"Hello," he spoke with his kind tone and you immediately knew that it was his voice you heard in your mind before. He took a few steps toward you, "Hello Dream," he greeted Morpheus.

"Greetings to you Lucifer Morningstar," he replied with graciousness, "And to you, Mazikeen of the Lillim" he greeted the demon lurking behind pillars.

"You look well Dream," Lucifer's smiled at him kindly, his angelic face beaming with light, "Are you well? And your family, Destiny, Death, Despair, and the others?" he asked, and even though he was smiling kindly you could see the falseness in his courteous greetings.

"I presume the Ruler of Hell knows that this is no social call," Morpheus replied and an equally false smile painted itself on his face. To you, seeing that lie on his face, seemed wrong, out of place.

"Have you come to join forces then?" Lucifer asked, his melodic voice singing the song of pretend again, "To ally your realm to ours? To acknowledge the sovereignty of Hell?"

"You know my feeling on that, Lightbringer," Morpheus spoke, the facade of courtesy slipping away slightly.

"Feelings change. Especially when one has been caught and imprisoned by mortals," Lucifer replied and you could not help but think that he enjoyed bringing that up, bringing Morpheus down, "We expected better of you, sweet Morpheus."

"I have come because my Helm of State was stolen from me. I believe one of your demons has it," Morpheus stayed unfazed. "I should like it back. Now," he demanded with a dangerously low voice, the facade of forced politeness disappeared completely.

"Dream, if only it were that easy," Lucifer kept smiling, "but there are rules you see. Protocols that must be followed. One of them says that the Ruler of Hell can dictate the terms of negotiations if one has been brought before him." he continued, "I brought you here. So tell me, Dream, why would I give you back your helm, a tool on which you rely so much? Why should I return what is rightfully yours when your witch took something that is rightfully mine?" Lucifer's eyes darted in your direction, he smiled charmingly but to you, there was nothing more threatening than his smile.

"The dealing is between me and one of your demons Morningstar," Morpheus spoke, endless darkness of his voice coming out from the depths of his core, "Y/N has nothing to do with it."

"Isn't she?" Lucifer retorted and took few steps toward you, "Wasn't it because of your helm that she interrogated that demon? Was it not because of you that she hunted him down and tortured him for the name you sought?" he towered over you looking at you with his bright blue eyes. With the blood boiling in your veins, you clenched your hand into a fist so tight that your nails began to painfully pierce your skin, just to keep calm. Lucifer reached out, his hand gently brushed your cheek and settled under your chin, only to lift it up so that you looked at him. "Have you not stood idly by and watched while this witch tore my demon from existence?" It took all the power you had in you not to push Lucifer's hand away like something sickeningly vile. You looked at him but there was no fear or humility in your eyes, you tried to give him the most furious and vicious look you could muster at that moment. "So fierce…" his eyes were scanning your face with undisguised amusement, "So powerful…Tell me, Witch…" he asked his finger still lifting your chin up, "What is it is that you truly Desire?" he asked and a devious smile crossed his face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Morpheus standing just a few feet away from you. The endless darkness, the sight of which you were already so used to, usually manifested in his depthless eyes, in his raven black hair, in the tone of his deep voice. This time you had the impression that he and everything around him had become one immense endless darkness as if somehow the darkness was pouring out of him covering all the surroundings. The only bright points were the stars in his eyes, they shone with a cold angry glow, exposing the raging universe shrouded in his darkness. In your head you were able to recall the tone of his voice, warning, demanding your attention, commanding. That short husky "No," which he was so fond of uttering sounded in your mind as you tried to hold back the words that sprang from your mouth. You looked at Lucifer daringly, devil or no devil, you decided that you would not show fear, and answered.

"For you to go to Hell…" you gritted with a smirk on your face, "But since you're already here I would love Marlboro Light."

Lucifer's melodic laughter echoed throughout the chamber, sounding like a chorus of laughing angels.

"Morpheus my dear, I see why you like her so much! She is delightful!" he turned his attention again to Morpheus, "So feisty! She will make a perfect demon! Men will be more than willing to sell their souls to her."

"No," and there it was. Deep, husky denial coming from the deepest depths of the universe itself.

"No?" Lucifer played a pretend game again, only this time pretending that he was surprised, "But it is only fair that I will keep her as compensation for the destruction of my demon. The demon was mine, now she is mine…" he smiled with a most delighted smile, "The demon belonged to me and your witch took him from me. Now she belongs to me."

"She isn't yours Lightbringer," Morpheus spoke, and the tone of his voice made the light radiating from the angle's face dim, darken slightly, "She belongs to no one, except perhaps herself."

Your heart froze in your chest, and chilling shivers ran down your spine at the sight of Lucifer walking with delicate steps toward Morpheus. After all, you had killed his demon, and Morpheus had just defied his will by protecting you.

"There was once a time when I would have considered you an honored guest in my kingdom, Dream Lord," Lucifer began, "But now…standing before me, you demand your property, and yet you deny me my reparation. Dream, such an insult…" he smiled slyly, "You have changed Dream…"

"Oh for fuck's sake! Stop with the mind games already!" you snapped, "Ever since we came here you've been playing this fucking ridiculous charade! Yes, I killed your demon and you know what?" anger all the way rushed through your veins, you knew perfectly well what he wanted to achieve, you couldn't let Morpheus suffer the consequences of your stupid mistakes, "I liked it! Every. Single. Moment. Of. It," as you pronounced these words you closed the distance separating you from them. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Morpheus, you could feel his piercing gaze on you, a gaze that demanded your attention. However, your rage was focused on Lucifer, you ignored Morpheus and continued, "You want to punish someone, fine by me! I killed your demon! Lord Morpheus tried to stop me but you probably already know that! Just like you know that his Helm belongs neither to you nor to the demon who has it. The helm belongs to Lord Morpheus and it must be returned to him. Fuck! I do not know what benefits Constantine sees in keeping good relations with you. Just give us back what's ours and I will politely promise to exorcise the next fucking demon instead of killing him." panting heavily you realized what you had just done and added, "Please? With full respect your highness."

Lucifer looked at you slowly with amused eyes, and smiled softly. At that moment you understood, you made exactly the move he expected. Checkmate, the game was over and like a fool you let yourself be led right into his trap.

"Being insulted by you Dream is one thing, I could forgive that for the sake of good relations between our realms," he said slowly, "But being disrespected by your lovely companion…" he trailed his eyes from you to the Morpheus stern face, "Apologise Dream, but laws of Hells demand that I must take proper actions. That insult must be paid in blood."

"As you wish Lightbringer," Morpheus turned himself to face him.

"For the sake of our relations, I will grant you my fairness. Something you have so willingly denied me. I shall challenge you to a duel. If you win you and your witch will be allowed leave, I will also return your helm. If I win, the witch stays here, and she will serve me in slavery in eternal damnation."

"Very well. I accept the terms."

Part eight: Through darkness towards...

~~***~~

Authors note: Oh my Dream Lord I went overboard! Did I went overboard? It's just as I started this chapter I knew where I wanted it to end, but the journey through hell turned out to be the perfect opportunity for character and relationship development as well as it gave me the opportunity to set the stage for the overarching plot. Psst, I know how the story ends ;) I know this chapter is heavily based on episode 4, I hope you don't mind. But as I wrote before, what better place for relationship development than hell :) I do hope you liked it and it was worth the wait :) Oh btw, right before I published I had a heart attack because Tumblr crushed on me and deleted 1/3 of the story. Thankfully I'm doing backups. At last, as always, Dear Reader, thank you for reading :)

~~***~~

Tag list: @mycrazyfandom @unavoidabledirewolf @calicoevening72 @mata0-0mata @uzumaki-mj @thegreatestsandwich @parabatai-winchester @munsonmunster @consistentreader578 @jupiterclipse @fangirlmary @clown-princesa @witchxlove @galaxypox @dilfsandtherapy @hjalmarofrivia @kc-265 @midnxghtblue @sallysal9 @0shippingtrashaway0 @lu123sworld @world-of-idea @octo-octopie @asmallhobbitruinedmylifebitruinedmylife @starsleeping-m @xxbeckybeexx-blogxx-blog @jesllianaquilesrolon @dollfaceyourfearourfear @shaewithyou @heavenmaycare @moon-enthusiasthusiast @home-of-disaster

[hexhomos]

im curious to know your thoughts on viktor's biography saying jayce was nothing more than an inconvenience. how do you handle him saying they were never friends? was this because of piltoverians superiority or? (correct me if im wrong but i cant remember if you touched on that)

A friend of mine once said a catastrophic breakup has the unforeseen consequence of tainting everything that came before it in the harsh, abrasive light of the fresh argument, and after that initial damage is done it’s hard to pick out how the memories *really* were. No matter how positive. You begin to doubt, re-read and re-write what happened, so the ultimate split "makes sense."

This may not even be a conscious process half of the time! But jokes about crazy-ex-girlfriends exist for a reason, and I believe that reason might be a surplus of unwarranted crazy-ex-girlfriend stories that are told after the dissolution of every messy relationship. You need a clear Right and a clear Wrong. Rationalizing your behavior as “only logical, in the face of irrationality,” is a defense mechanism. It’s not a pretty one, but it boils down to this: avoidance of guilt, rejection of any criticism you may consider too true, the reshaping of your narrative so *you* are the one in control, the winner, the guy who’s closing the debate with the perfect comeback, one thought up in the shower 12 hours after the fact.

Viktor lies a lot. By omission, exaggeration, negligence and a sense of dwindling pride. Jayce is simultaneously unstoppably unjust and a worm-man that could be crushed beneath his heel; an insufferable viktor never chose for himself! Who is, at the same time, somehow, his work partner of years, actively by his side right up until his last project - or until he's had enough. And the dissonance is the point. This is an image that has been warped so much in editing you can see the smudgy click and drag marks in the surroundings. 

I do think Jayce and Viktor were friends, and this is an assertion I make without doubt. Viktor calls jayce his old friend when the plea benefits him, this is corroborated by how positively Jayce's bio speaks about Viktor, even while criticizing his methods.

Jayce is indifferent to nearly everyone he meets, he says so himself, in his opening paragraphs; if he really was so Out There To Get Viktor And Ruin His Life &/Or Reputation- what fucking reason does he have to defend Viktor's honor after he's proved himself to be unstable and aggressive? If their relationship was nonexistent, sour, or predicated exclusively in rivalry or animosity, why does Viktor ask for Jayce to join him in his grand plan, after years of alleged cold war? What reason is there for Jayce to apologize and still extend him an out after Viktor sinks his head in with a giant crystal? What reason is there for him to even disclose doing that? (what reason is there for Jayce to call Viktor petnames after multiple direct attempts on his life???? LOL)

To put it mildly. If we are to take Viktor’s POV by his word (imagine he is being honest,) and see this as a straightforward detached revenge story about prejudice or jayce’s unreasonable hero complex or piltover carelessly wanting to trump over zaun or whatever - why doesn’t Jayce’s side of the story simply call him a cunt and move on? He has all the setup to prop himself as the true hero, but he doesn’t. Like Bon points out here, Jayce’s bio doesn’t even bring up that Viktor is a Zaunite. Not Once. There is no stereotypical city grudge casting him in a bad light. The information is implicit: they talk about Zaun, extensively, but Viktor’s ideas and standing and existence are what you know him by, not some undercity-dwelling boogeyman. If anything, Jayce self-deprecates far more frequently than Viktor does, and makes a sustained effort to poke holes on the audience’s perception of him being a ‘valiant hearted hero’ of any kind. He dont give a fuck. He doesn't want this title. He did not pick it. He is not choosing to represent this city. He has other, better, palpable things to care about. Namely his work, and generally ‘preventing people from being made into fucking zombies’. Jayce doesn’t want you to think that he is right(eous), but that what is happening is wrong.

If I take a step back from text interpretation here and tell you what I personally gather from it, Opinion Wise, it's this: Viktor is concerned with presenting you with a tragic fable because he has an ideology to sell. The revisions and concessions he makes along the way are for the ultimate purpose of crafting a legend. And sometimes that requires humility. He needs the rationalization to make sense of every single bad thing that has ever happened in his life; and in his way there he also tends to mix up one sore spot with the other, like they're all this elaborate multi-step prank destiny sprung on him, like every single other person in his life has been Lowkey Conspiring Against Him, so you can eventually agree to this:

Humans suck, right? We agree humans suck, right, guys? I mean wouldn't we love it if humans didn't suck? Thats Why I Came Up With A Solution!! THE NEURALINK. - Viktor. (note: whenever there's a mention of the student body, swap it with 'Jayce' to see how the motivation builds up. Viktor makes an effort to omit him whenever possible anyway)

He's kind of at the end of his rope. This is his last ditch effort to build himself back up.

Generally speaking, the opposite goes for Jayce. He frontloads his statement with mentions of how he is a huge dipshit, unabashedly so, to get really at the meat of things: He thinks Viktor's preaching is fucking bogus, but the point is that guy used to be his friend. That guy used to be someone he knew! That guy was brilliant at what he did, even, but something went really terribly wrong down the line and it's frankly fucked up that it happened. But nobody really cares nor can they fully understand, because as Jayce previously stated, maybe everyone else is kind of fucking stupid, so he has to fix things on his own. (Jayce doesn't have any 'I stand for justice and righteousness and the american way,' comeback prepared to rebuke Viktor's speeches. That sentence could make him barf. He just has very strong feelings about where the line is drawn, and he’s not going to wait for the worst case scenario before doing something.)

I do think that more than anything else, It’s important (and telling) that both of their bios admit to them being deeply hurt by their falling-out. Jayce calls it ‘growing more insular’, Viktor calls it ‘traumatic’, there are attempts to patch things back up on either side (even if a bit tilted, even if the propositions don’t work) Viktor regrets trusting anyone at all, so he covers it up with detachment. Jayce regrets not having enough faith to communicate anything, when he could have, so he tries his best to own up to every present or imagined failure in his way towards improvement.

Of course Viktor would describe Jayce as inconvenient. Viktor is one of the many perceived past failures Jayce is desperately trying to do damage control for. And if he *can’t* change Viktor’s mind, well. At least Jayce can stand in his way and be really, really annoying.

[ink-and-dagger]

Astrid and Silco ! Any costume ideas for Halloween? Maybe couples costume ?

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃 👻 ooOOooOoOoOOo. It’s Silco’s favourite holiday ya’know.

It’s true. I enjoy the darkly festive atmosphere.

That’s not the part you like best though is it. Oh no no no. Go on, tell them all what is 😈

I don’t see how it’s relevant, given that I haven’t actually partaken in this particular activity in many, many years.

If you don’t tell them then I will.

Fine. As a boy I used to sneak across the bridge on All Hallows’ Eve with a few other snipes.

Aaaaand?

And we would… forcefully divest the topside children of their excess treats.

HE USED TO BEAT UP POSH LITTLE PILTIES AND STEAL THEIR CANDY HAHAHAH

As I said, this was many years ago.

It’s not as long ago as he’s making out.

I stopped when I was 15.

Oooo what a fib! You stopped doing it annually when you were 15. But when was the last time you actually did it—

Escorting Jinx doesn’t count—

—LAST YEAR. ONLY LAST YEAR THIS GROWN-ASS MAN WENT ON A CANDY HEIST 😂😂😂

I was only there to ensure her safety. I didn’t partake—

DIDN’T PARTAKE - SILCO - YOU AND JINX SPLIT THE CANDY THAT IS PARTAKING—

—yes but I didn’t actually harm any children—

STOP SILCO I CAN’T BREATHE IM GONNA PEE 😂😂😂😂😂

I don’t see the problem with a father passing down a tradition to his daughter.

There’s no problem with it! I fully approve, I just find the nature of it very very funny. I like that you aren’t a crime snob. You’re down for anything from murder to stealing candy from babies.

They were children, not babies. On the whole.

I’m surprised there aren’t wanted posters of you lining the streets of Piltover you villainous cad you.

I don’t feel an ounce of remorse. Those spoilt little brats hardly need to glut themselves any more than they do the rest of the year.

Yeah, fuck them kids. 👊🏼

Now, I believe we actually have a Halloween question to answer.

Oh yeah!! Costumes. Well I had this idea—

No.

You don’t even know what it is yet.

My apologies. Continue.

I was thinking we could go as each other—

No.

Why not?! It’s a great idea!

Because it’s merely an excuse for you to get your hands on my coat.

But it looks so good on me—

It does. Unfortunately for you, it’s mine.

Whatever. You don’t have the curves to pull off my clothes anyway 😒

You’re also forgetting that I have rounds to make today.

You cant make them in costume?

Not unless that costume is the ‘Eye of Zaun’

We could dress you up as a giant walking eye.

Or we could not.

Has anyone ever told you that you can be super boring?

Yes. You. On multiple occasions.

I think we’d make a cute Angel and Devil together, don’t you think? 😇😈

I agree. You look ravishing in red.

Hey—

What costume will you be wearing this eve, love?

Hmm… I hadn’t decided yet… it’s gotta be something that’s certain to seduce you…

Mm?

Allure you…

Go on

…I’m gonna be a sexy cigar

…

Perhaps do a lil strip tease at the end of the night just for you. Make a real fancy show of peeling back my leaves all slow and seductive.

*sigh*

Make myself look so irresistible that you uh… that you wanna… chop my head off and er… put my butt in your mouth… and smoke me?

…That’s quite enough Halloween for you for one year I think.