#messy but somehow fun dynamic

[yvknda]

menace boyfriend x stressed of his shit lovers

[rottingworship]

Bloodlust

[The Proxies x Reader]

Summary: You, a newly turned vampire, find yourself with a new group of friends. One night, things get dicey, leaving you running. When you are found, you come to the conclusion you are very frustrated. Your new friends are more than willing to help you out.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Depictions of murder, blood drinking, biting, praise, vaginal sex, cream pies, oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, voyeurism, not so healthy relationship dynamics, not beta read (let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: They/Them pronouns used for reader, but reader has a vagina. I have a second part of this planned. It will be more rough and definitely not as sweet as this one. I have a lot in mind for Vampire!Reader. The vampires aren't based off any particular media, either. Just a mesh of medias, I guess! this was supposed to be posted in October, but you get it now instead... this was me getting used to writing four characters at once, the next part will be very fun!

Being a vampire is new. Being able to smell everything, hear everything, and see everything is new. Your strength is something you never could have imagined. Sunlight is annoying now, practically burning you. Your body is always cold. You don't have to breathe, but it is something you are still used to doing. And every fucking time you inhale you are greeted with new scents.

Bloodlust though?

That's something you would not wish on your worst enemy. You almost wished you were dead when you woke up from being freshly turned. Or ‘saved’. Your throat was on fire and your entire body burned. Burned for something you did not want, but something you now needed.

Your first kill was horrid. Blood covered you and the victim. You wanted to sob but being a vampire does not let you do such human things.

Now? It's been almost three months since turning, and while you have a dysfunctional but somehow working support system around you, things still suck. Sometimes you wish you had not been spared. You wonder if this is a fate worse than death. But your friends do make it bearable. They keep you fed and do not seem to be judging you when you do happen to get messy. There is only one problem.

They all smell absolutely delicious.

Tim and Brian smell slightly better than your average human. You cannot help but wonder if your brain is playing tricks on you, since you are so close to them. You think that maybe you love them so much they now smell better than most. Toby is a slightly different story. He smells better than anything you can even remember loving as a human. You want to bite him and never let go. Ever. Your brain tells you to attack anytime he enters the room. ‘Latch on and do not release’ is all you seem to hear.

You have yet to have an incident around the men. They are careful with their sharp objects, and you are careful with your sharp teeth. There has been no instance where you have smelled them actively bleeding. Not until Toby decides to get your food by himself.

“Y– You-your eyes are changing.” Toby notices before anyone else. Normally, at least now that you aren't human, your eyes are red. Blood red. When hungry they get darker, until eventually, they are black. “I'll go get-get you some fresh bl-blood.”

He leaves before you can protest. Some time passes, about two hours, and Toby has not returned. He is pretty quick with his outings. You have grown anxious.

“Tim!” You shout as you walk down the hall, “Brian! Toby left and hasn't come back!” Brian's door opens first. Then Tim pokes his head out. You pout at the both of them and wait for them to come out of their rooms.

“Well shit,” Tim starts, “I sure wish we had something better than a bloodhound to find him.”

“Yeah, that'd be fucking insane.” Brian smirks at you.

“Ok, guys, I get it. I can smell him, but-” you fidget slightly, “I don't trust myself.” The mood shifts immediately. They both sigh and step out of their rooms. They meet you in the hall and you let them take the lead. “I can hunt him down. I just need my accountability partners.” You force a smile. You are joking, but only slightly.

“Accountability to not fucking murder Toby?”

“Suck him dry,” Brian laughs, “and not in the way he wants!”

Tim snorts. You blink at them. You stop and cross your arms. “Now is not the time for jokes…”

“I'm really not joking,” Brian shrugs and keeps walking.

You ignore him. A scent like nothing you've ever smelled before hits your nose and you almost moan. You cover your mouth and freeze. Your eyes widen and you look at Tim and Brian. “He's somewhere near.” It's taking all of you to not sprint towards the scent and devour him. “Someone is with him. I can smell more blood, that isn't his.”

Tim mumbles a ‘damn’ under his breath and you begin to take the lead. Toby is obviously hurt somewhere, potentially fighting someone off for you, and you need to find him. And not kill him. As you get closer the smell is taking over everything. A trail of blood appears before you. You stop yourself from figuring out if it is Toby's or whoever else is bleeding with him.

You see it, some man sprawled out, bloody and dying on the fall leaves. You begin to approach the body, hoping that if you feed, the want, no need, to ‘suck Toby dry’ leaves you. You do not get that far. A leaf crunches beside you, and Toby appears. Your head snaps towards him and you inhale sharply, your eyes narrowing. Your fists ball up immediately. He waves at you, says hi, and all you can do is hope you don't pounce. Your eyes scan him, and you see his thigh is slashed.

“Hey,” you hear Tim call your name. Blood is steadily coming from the cut on Toby’s thigh. You see it. Your eyes, dark and full of hunger, do not move from Toby. The need to feed is becoming stronger than the want to keep Toby safe. Toby does not move. It is almost as if he knows he's become the prey. Another crunch of leaves and a hand is grabbing your face. Harshly. “Hey.” Tim sounds much sterner. “Look at me. Focus on me.” Tim’s thumb rests on one cheek while his fingers grip on the other.

“I– I can't.” You want to sob.

“Okay,” Tim nods, “focus on that body.” He points to the twitching body on the ground by your feet.

Without thinking, you drop down on your knees. You grab the body violently; hatchet marks cover them. Your teeth sink into the soft flesh of the neck, and you begin to feed. You let out a low primal growl. Tim, Toby, and Brian, all watching you. Normally, they let you feed in peace. They never had watched you before. And now, here they are, staring at you, the back of your head burning from their stares.

You pull back from the neck and begin to bite and suck down the arm, getting as much ‘food’ as possible. Blood covers you. Your hands, mouth, and throat. By the time you are done you wish to cry. But you cannot. You are stuck, sitting with a bloody, dead body. Your friends are surrounding you. And your bloodlust is still lingering.

You turn towards Toby and watch him closely. Brian seems to have a sort of makeshift tourniquet on Toby’s thigh. The scent is still so strong. Your eyes hit a bloody knife inside the dead man's hand. The one he used to cut Toby.

“Don't-” Brian seems to know what you're looking at; know what you're thinking. You don't listen. Your hand snatches up the knife and you are quick to lick the blood up. Your eyes screw shut and you almost shiver. It is heavenly. It is not enough. Your head snaps towards Toby again and with a speed faster than the others can process, you are on him. He is on the ground faster than he knows it and you are leaning over him.

“Toby–” you growl, teeth gritting together, fangs bared.

“D-do it.”

Tim and Brian are frozen, watching in horror. You are much stronger than the both of them. You are stronger than the three of them put together, there is nothing they can do.

“Go a-ahead.” Toby is smiling under his muzzle. You are straddling him, pressing against his stomach, and your hands holding his shoulders down. You let out an animalistic noise, lowering yourself closer to Toby. His heart is pounding in his chest. He is not afraid though.

Far from it, actually.

It clicks. How he feels clicks in your head, and you are almost sent into a worse frenzy. You let out a strangled groan and leap up from Toby, and tear off deeper into the woods, going the exact opposite direction of your home.

Once your head is finally on straight, and you can think without wanting to murder, you find yourself on the outskirts of the city. Your shirt and pants are slightly ripped up from running through the thickest part of the woods. You, naturally, are unscathed. You cannot bring yourself to go home yet. You cannot hurt Toby. Dried blood covers you. It’s stuck to your skin; you feel it more than ever; painfully aware of how it’s dried and caked onto you in some areas.

You need to stay out of the sight of people, you know this. You don’t think that anyone is going to react normally to you. As you walk beside the almost empty road you look up at the sky. The moon is full; the stars are shining brightly. You sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see headlights approaching, and they pass you just as quickly as they appeared. You look back at the road ahead of you and wrap your arms around yourself.

You hear tires screeching from behind you and the car that just passed turns back around, heading right for you. You look back at the blinding headlights and realize it is Brian’s car. You scrunch your face. You turn and keep walking. The car comes up beside you, and Brian rolls the window down. He looks over at you, your name rolling off his tongue. You do not look over.

“You aren’t running,” Brian states.

“Thank you for letting me know.” You huff.

“You don’t want to run,” Brian’s words make you stop. He pulls ahead a bit before pulling over on the side of the road. He gets out of the car and approaches you. “Listen,” Brian sighs, “something is going on–”

“No shit!” You snap. If you could, you would be crying right now. Everything is so much; everything is so, so amplified. You do not want to feel the need to eat the people who saved you. But here you are. Even now, you are keeping yourself from inhaling. You know Brian isn’t bleeding, and you are not hungry anymore, but your earlier actions have startled you. “I could have killed Toby! And you wouldn’t have been able to stop me!” You grip yourself tightly, holding your ripped sweater like a lifeline.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Brian comforts you. “You didn’t kill him. Toby really liked that anyway.” He smiles at you. A goofy grin. Your eyes drop to the road, and you instinctively suck in air, and you sigh out in frustration. Brian’s scent floods you. Your eyes look up at him and narrow. “Um,” He wants to take a step back, but he does not, “are you okay?”

Your brows furrow, sadness taking over. “I don’t… I don’t know.” You shake your head. “Brian?” He hums in response, and you continue. “I haven’t told anyone, but the three of you, especially Toby… You all smell different.”

“Like, stinky?” He seems concerned.

“Uh, no.” You laugh nervously. “Opposite, actually.” You rub your arm, comforting yourself. “You and Tim smell a lot better than the normal person, and Toby? He smells absolutely heavenly. That’s why I nearly lost it earlier. He smelled way better than that person he had handpicked for me to feed from. I can smell you guys even when you aren’t bleeding. It’s a lot. But bearable. I didn’t realize how much active bleeding would amplify it.”

“You didn’t realize?” Brian asks. “It’s out, it’s going to smell better. I would assume.”

“I know!” You want to yell. “I didn’t think… I’m just– Ugh!” You throw your hands up and walk past Brian, heading back towards the unknown.

Brian groans, spins around, and grabs you. “Stop.” You do not pull away. “You aren’t running, once again, you don’t want to run. If you did, you’d be gone by now. Look,” Brian stays where he is; behind you, holding your arm. You peek over your shoulder at him. “I know you don’t want to leave-”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“That’s not the only reason you stay.”

“I don’t know why you came out here. I just tried to fucking kill Toby. He could have died, and so could you.”

“I’m here because we obviously want you around. You’re going through something, and we are not going to just let you leave because of that.”

You deadpan, “I’m also useful to you guys, and The Operator. I know that’s why I’m kept around. I’m surprised he didn’t try to stop me when I left.” You roll your eyes.

“Come on.” Brian maneuvers around you, “I can’t lie, you are useful. But you’re also kind and funny. And really hot.” Brian shrugs. “So,” he motions towards the car, “please get in the car and come back with me.”

You blink at him, baffled. “Hot?” You almost scream. “What the fuck!?” You throw your hands up again. Brian is caught off guard. You let out a loud groan and debate on flipping his car and leaving. You look towards the car and back at Brian.

“What are you thinking…?” Brian is cautious.

“I'm just frustrated!” You do scream this time. Eyes shut tight and fists balled.

Brian takes a moment before speaking. “Sexually?” He asks, completely nonchalant.

“Maybe!” You look at him, huffing. “Maybe…” You speak a little quieter. You throw your head back and whine. “I just need to shower…”

Brian motions towards the car again. “You can do that at home.” Home. You freeze. It is your home. It has been for a few months now. You, in discomfort, make a face at Brian. He groans, “What now?”

“How do you trust me? I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.” Brian begins to walk towards the car. “Now come on.”

You are stuck. “Really, why do you think I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“Because I trust you, let’s go.” As soon as Brian says this, you shake your head. You need more answers. “I see the way you stare at us; you won’t hurt us.”

You look up at the sky, “Not intentionally-” Your nose burns. You inhale slowly and the feeling of wanting to pounce is returning. You look back at Brian and see him approaching you, a cut across his palm. He’s holding his hand up and out, his palm facing upwards. You are frozen, fighting the urge to destroy him. “Brian,” You whisper, eyes narrowing, “What are you-”

“I’m showing you something.”

“What if I kill you…?” You take a step back and he keeps on walking. He reaches you, his hand going towards you. “Brian, I’m being so fucking serious… I can’t control-”

“You aren’t starving anymore. You won’t hurt me. You can control it. You did earlier with Toby, and I don’t smell as good as him-”

“Brian…” You can’t look away from his cut. “Can I-”

“Go ahead.”

You, realizing how much stronger you are than him, make sure to gently grab his hand. You are thinking everything over a million times before you do it. The world is spinning and standing still at the same time. Brian is right, you are not starving, so you should not want to absolutely murder him. But you have not tested your self control to this level before. Your tongue runs up his palm and you feel Brian shiver. Your eyes shut and your fangs scrape his skin, ever so gently.

You let out a muffled moan as you slowly suck on the wound. Brian’s knees buckle. His hand tenses and you freeze. You do not want to pull away, your instincts are telling you to continue to drain him. But who you used to be is telling you to let him go. Your grip on him tightens as you battle with yourself. Then you hear Brian stifle a groan.

Immediately, you release him. You pull back and look at him with wild, animalistic eyes. You cock your head at him and wipe your mouth. “Sorry, are you alright?”

Brian nods, “More than alright…” He pauses briefly, “That’s not going to turn me, is it?”

You shake your head. “No, it will not. Did that hurt?” You bite the inside of your lip. “Because I've only ever killed people when feeding… And those people are most definitely not enjoying it.” You laugh.

“It, uh,” Brian is thinking, searching for the right words, “it felt good. It stung at first, but when you started to… ‘feed’, it felt amazing.”

You nod at him. “That makes sense. The man that turned me into a vampire, um, he said that” you gather your thoughts, “when one feeds from a human, there is a sort of like… Chemical, maybe? That will react with the human's blood, making them feel good. So, they don’t fight back as much. But it doesn’t turn the person. That is the actual ‘vampire venom’ that does that, but that burns. I know that from experience. The one that makes you feel good though? That wears off, eventually. Especially before death.”

“That would have been good to know before we almost killed your victims for you.” Brian smiles at you. “Can we go back now?”

“Sure, I guess.” You look at the wound again. “Let me fix that first.” You tear the hem of your already ripped sweater, getting just enough of the fabric to bandage his hand. You quickly wrap it up and pat it. “The feeling of pain will come back soon; we need to get home.”

The both of you make it to the car. You sit in the passenger seat, watching the road ahead of you, even if you are not even moving yet. Brian sits down and shifts. You inhale; you smell it again. Arousal. You know it isn’t your own. You are aroused as well though. You lick your lips and Brian’s blood is still on them, you grumble. You need more of him. You refrain. You rub your hands down your thighs; you are becoming antsy. Your brain is having a hard time wrapping around everything that is happening.

A hand is placed on yours. You look over at Brian, he gives you a reassuring smile. You bite the inside of your lip and calm down. You smile back at Brian and relax in the seat. Brian starts the car and as soon as the key is turned over his hand is on your thigh. You look over at him and wish for him to move his hand up. Further up your leg. You briefly think about moving his hand up your thigh, but before you can, Brian speaks up.

“I know that look in your eyes.” His eyes are back on the road; he doesn’t even look back over at you as he squeezes your thigh. “You’re about to do something.” He laughs. “You’re all bloody right now though. How about, after you get home and shower, we can… fix your frustrations.”

“I would like that.” You nod slowly. Getting home cannot come fast enough.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. The radio is turned down, so there is no noise. Brian’s hand is stuck to your thigh, squeezing it every once in a while. You have to hold back a moan. You want to latch onto Brian for a much different reason now.

He pulls up to the house and you jump out of the car. You shut the door and rush inside, scurrying to grab your things and jump into the shower. As you turn on the water, you hear Brian come into the house, you hear Tim ask him what happened. You hear Toby’s door open. You hear everything over the rushing water.

You try to not eavesdrop, but it is truly so hard when you can hear them like they are next to you. You hum softly, hoping your noise cancels out their speaking. It does not.

“What happened to your hand?” Tim asks Brian, and then quickly asks where you are.

“They’re showering.” It is all he gives his friend.

“What happened t-to your h-hand?” Toby sounds irritated.

Brian knows must know you can hear them. He says to ask you when you get out. How polite. You wash yourself as quickly as possible, and step out of the shower. You hear them start talking again.

“How did you find them?”

“Bloody, on the side of the road.” Brian starts. “We had a nice talk, and they vented their frustrations to me.” Okay, he knows I can hear him, you think to yourself.

“Wh-what kind of frustrations?” Toby asks. “Sexual?”

How the fuck do they all know? You want to scream. There is no response. You are certain Brian nodded at Toby. You get dressed and walk from the bathroom, take your clothes to the laundry closet, you hear mumbling, low and quiet. You can barely make out what they are saying. They immediately shut up as you walk in. You cross your arms and look at the three all standing around each other. They all turn to you at the same time, eyes boring into you. You want to scream.

“What the fuck did you say?” You look at Brian with confusion. You roll your eyes when there is no answer. “Why are you all three standing there… Conspiring against me?”

“Oh!” Toby smiles at you. With his muzzle off, his grin is frightening, leaving your stomach flipping. “I-I would say it’s the opposite of con-conspiring against you, dear.”

You are stuck. Toby is the first to step towards you. He’s wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants. His cut has been bandaged completely; you can tell because the scent of his blood is not as strong as it was before. He still smells so good though, you are sure you are going to lose your mind.

“What happened to Brian’s hand?” Tim asks, snapping you out of your trance.

You look at Brian for reassurance. He nods, giving you the okay to share what happened. You look back at Tim. “He was proving a point to me,” You start, “that I can control myself.” Toby loses it. He twitches and his jaw clenches, before relaxing and he finally speaks. “You-you drank fr-from, from him?” He narrows his eyes at you, pointing at Brian.

“Yes.”

“And it was fucking hot!” Brian boasts.

You groan, placing your face in your hands. “Today's been a lot,” You are suddenly rethinking the earlier proposal from Brian. “I'm sure you are all tired–”

“No.” They all speak at once. Then Brian takes over the conversation. “We don't have to do this. But, I want you to know, we are here for you. No matter what you need.”

No matter what you need. There are heavy implications behind that. You can feel them. How he holds himself says it all. Tim and Toby seemingly agree. Toby is biting at the fucking bit to get to you; you can feel it. He is holding himself back extremely well. He shifts and you inhale slowly. They are all so aroused. Your jaw clenches and your eyes shut tight. You need to think.

“I've never done this.” You open your eyes and stare at the three of them. Toby’s head tilts and you notice his hand twitch. He is excited. “Had a threesome. I mean, I haven't done anything since being turned. What if I hurt one of you?”

“You-You won't. If you d-do, we-well we ha-have a wooden ste-steak.”

“You'd put me down? Just like that!?” You almost scream at him. Toby finds it funny.  You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Really…” You stomp your foot a little bit. “I would not be able to live with myself if I accidently hurt one of you. And also, how are you going to decide who goes first?” You cock a brow at them.

“Me! M-Me! Brian got lu-lucky already, it's m-my turn!” Toby almost launches himself at you.

“Oh! So what am I? Chopped liver?” Tim grunts.

You have never had this much attention. It almost sends you into a spiral. “I promise, you'll all get a turn!” You put your hands up and speak without thinking. This ignites a fire in the men that is worse than whatever was going on before. They look like they are going to go absolutely mad to get to you. Toby immediately reaches for you. Without missing a beat, you are on the other side of the couch, staring at them.

“Ah,” You click your tongue. It clicks how much power you have at this moment. “I want to go over ground rules before we start this.” They all nod eagerly at you. “I need you all to tell me if it's too much. If I'm holding you too tightly or draining too much blood.”

“That it?” Tim crosses his arms at you.

You tap your chin. “I heal really quickly. Bite me, leave hickeys, do whatever. But–” You put a finger up, “Nothing too violent. I'm afraid if you happen to hit me I won't stop draining your blood. And then I'll have to face something I'd rather not even look at.”

“Sounds good enough.” Brian nods.

“Now,” You bite the inside of your lip, “I want to try something, if you're okay with it Toby?” He is the most excited. “I'll need my accountability partners here with me though.” You smile at Tim and Brian. They agree. “I want to taste you, if you're okay with that?” You know his answer. You need it verbalized.

“Y-yes! I tho-thought you wo-would never ask!”

“What am I supposed to do? If you start killing him?” Tim seems curious. More curious than concerned.

“I don't know!” You smile at them, shrugging. “Do you want to do this out here? Or on a bed?”

Toby sits on the couch and excitedly pats his lap. “H-Here. Th-the couch.” You nod. You stalk towards him, the thought of feeding from him is doing something for you. You stop in front of him.

“Toby?” Your eyes move from his eyes to his thigh, back to his eyes. Toby hums in response, slightly agitated you have not sat on his lap yet. “Um,” You purse your lips, “You don’t mind being, uh, naked in front of your friends do you?”

Toby laughs. “No.” His answer is short and sweet.

“Okay,” You nod, “take your pants off.”

Toby obliges. “Th-thought you w-would n-never ask.” He slides his sweats off, and he is not wearing any underwear. You bite your lip, seeing his cock is already hard. You drop to your knees immediately and scoot completely up to him. Toby’s hand instinctively rubs at his cock as you situate yourself, precum dripping from the head.

You grip the couch cushion and look at the bandage on Toby’s thigh. “Mind if I-”

“Please,” Toby whines. “Do so-something. I’m-I’m begg-ing.”

You rip the bandage away and stare at the wound momentarily. It definitely is not as bad as it seemed earlier. Your pupils are dilated, and you look up at Toby, wide eyes watching him, waiting for consent to go wild on his wound. You cannot even muster the will to ask if you can, you lick your lips and as soon as the brunette nods at you, your grip tightens on the couch cushions.

You know if you grab his legs you are going to bruise him. You do not take into consideration he would like that. Your eyes shut and you lick a stripe across the cut. You moan. Loudly, you moan into his thigh. One of the cushions pops under your white-knuckled grip. Foam comes out from between your fingers and Toby whimpers. This sends you into a fucking frenzy.

You let out a low, primal growl. Your eyes shoot open and meet Toby’s. His hand is working on his cock, stroking it. Tim and Brian are standing behind the couch, watching you become feral looking. They are turned on too. You can smell arousal all around the room.

“Bite- Bite me.”

You smile against his skin. You oblige. What sort of person could deny such an airy, whiny request? Not you, that is for sure.

Your eyes stay on Toby’s; you do not look away. Your fangs gently sink into his skin, and you let out a low groan. Fuck. You are not sure if you can let go now. You do not want to. Your tongue laps up the blood, and you begin to suck on the place you just bit. Your eyes shut, a shiver going down your spine, and your hand grabs Toby’s thigh.

Your nails dig into the skin. Toby shifts and you know he cannot feel the pain, but you do not want to cause any harm to him. But, at the same time, you want to drain him dry. He tastes divine.

“Do you feel it?” Brian asks, voice low. “The euphoria?” His hand is on the back of the couch; he is looking right at Toby.

Toby moans, and then softly whines. “Y-Yes.”

While Brian is asking Toby that question. Tim is focused on you. While it is completely sexy what you are doing, he does not want Toby dying. Tim says your name, trying to catch your attention, but you do not immediately pull away. Tim walks from around the couch and his hand hits your shoulder. A possessive growl escapes you. Tim does not falter. He snatches your shoulder back and you release Toby. Ready to latch onto whatever is stopping you. You do not register it as Tim at first. Just some threat stopping you from feeding.

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low and stern. “You drank enough.”

Red warmth covers your mouth, throat, and chest. Your fangs are bared at Tim and your grip is tight on Toby’s thigh. Tim grabs your face and lowers himself to your level. You are still on your knees.

“You know,” He starts, “I’d kiss you right now, if you weren’t covered in Toby’s blood…”

This snaps you out of it. You pause briefly. Your eyes are back to normal, pupils blown from ecstasy. “You would?” Your face softens.

“Come- Come on!” Toby groans. “Thi-This dick is-isn’t g-gonna suck itself.”

You look back at him and bite the inside of your lip. Tim releases your face and shoos you back to Toby. You crawl back to him, resuming your earlier position.

“I would like to note,” You start, “I have not sucked dick since getting fangs. I’m so sorry if-”

“Don’t be.” Toby swallows hard. “Pl-Please, just- just do s-something.”

You licked over the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding long enough to get Toby off. He can take care of it after you are done with him. You wipe your mouth with your hand, quickly wiping the blood away. One of your hands rests on Toby’s thigh and the other goes towards his cock. Toby twitches as you touch him. He whimpers again as you touch him. You gently pump up and down and place your mouth over the tip. You begin to take him into your mouth, and you quickly realize you do not have a gag reflex anymore.

Your eyes open and look up at Toby. He is watching you closely, not daring to look away. “Keep- Keep looking at m-me.”

His voice is whiny, but he sounds so demanding at the same time. You follow his instructions. You moan as you suck his dick, head bobbing up and down. Your eyes don’t break away from Toby’s. One of your hands goes towards the heat between your legs. You moan again as you touch yourself.

Toby is slowly coming undone. Your pace on Toby picks up as your thumb finds your clit. It is becoming difficult, keeping up with everything. Making sure you do not hurt Toby, bringing yourself pleasure, and making Toby feel good. It is all so much.

“I’m-” Toby’s voice is airy, “-close.”

Toby has been restrained, but as soon as your eyes shut, ecstasy close to washing over you, Toby seems to sense that. His hips begin to buck into you; your hand was not there to restrain that. You gasp, shocked at the sudden movement, and your eyes open back up, wide and full of surprise.

Toby releases into your mouth. You, without thinking, swallow. You pull back from Toby and let out a growl. “Toby! I was close too! Now I’m just aching-”

“That was hot.” Brian interrupts you.

You stand up from Toby and look at Brian. Your eyes narrow and you huff. “Oh it would have been so much hotter if I got to come too!”

“I can fix that,” Tim takes a step closer to you. “Plus, I’m the only one who you haven’t fed from. You aren’t full, are you?”

Your eyes darken and you smile at him, “Of course not, Tim.” You realize just how bloody you are from Toby and pause. “Let me at least clean this blood off.”

Tim nods. As you walk to the bathroom, Tim follows you. You grab a washcloth and wet it. You take your shirt off, and Tim’s eyes wander to your chest. You are wearing nothing under your shirt. Tim does not say a word as he watches you clean up. He only watches. You watch him from the mirror. As your hand rubs the cloth across your skin, his eyes follow. Your movements are slow and meticulous. You smile at him, while looking at the mirror, as his eyes come back up to yours.

As you put the washcloth in the dirty clothes, you look at Tim. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s go to my bedroom.” He looks ravenous. You feel the way he looks.

You grab his hand and follow behind him as he leads you to the bedroom. Brian and Toby seem to hear you and begin to make their way to the room as well. You look back and see Toby is wearing his pants again, his wound most likely bandaged… again. Tim does not give you time to think about Toby’s blood. You are pushed against the wall, opposite of the door, and you look at Tim with surprise.

“Can I drink from you?” You give him a soft smile.

“Please,” He groans. You nod, excitedly, and you grab Tim’s shoulders and pull him closer. You begin to kiss at his neck. You kiss down the spot you want to bite. The spot where you can feel his pulse racing. He is not nervous though. He does not feel nervous at all.

 Before you bite him, Tim’s hands are wandering up and down your body. His hands tracing your cold skin, his fingers pinching at your nipples, before finally traveling to your waistband. As he pulls at the waistband of your pants, your teeth sink into his neck. He freezes up momentarily. You smirk against his skin. He feels it.

Tim grips your hip and his hand slides past the waistband, easily finding your pussy. He moans out as you slowly suck on his skin. He does not falter as you continue, his fingers pushing past your folds and into your entrance.

He begins to pump in and out, slowly at first. His thumb finds your clit and it is your turn to freeze up. Tim smiles and lets out a laugh. “How does it feel?” He coos at you. You lap at his neck and pull back. “How does it feel, them watching us?” Tim's head tilts. Your eyes move from Tim and towards Toby and Brian. You let out a whine, and Tim’s thumb grazes over your clit again.

“Feels good-” You look back at Tim. You clench around his fingers and Tim smiles.

“Want me to fuck you in front of them?”

You cannot answer. You only nod. Tim, noticing you are not as messy as you were with your earlier feeding, kisses you. His tongue slips into your mouth and his fingers work on you until you are coming undone. You clench around him again and moan into Tim’s mouth. Your hips buck into his hand and your legs are turning to jelly.

Tim pulls back and removes his hands from your pants. Your eyes open and you give him a confused look. He slides his belt off and you stand there, still slightly disoriented.

“Im going to fuck you, remember?” He says it so nonchalantly. Oh yeah. You nod but still just stand there. “Do you want me to do that with your pants on?” He questions you.

Oh… You are embarrassed now. If heat could rush to your cheeks, you would be on fire. You huff and slide your pants and underwear off. You stand uncomfortably for a moment. Your eyes look back at Toby and Brian. They are watching you, only you. You feel so small under their gaze. And for a moment, you forget how strong you are. You forget you could have the upper hand at any given moment.

“You still okay?” Tim asks.

You nod. “Just getting comfortable.”

“We have all night, sweetheart,” He is standing only in his underwear now.

“And all of tomorrow.” Brian smiles.

“Y-yeah.” Toby speaks up. “You-You can’t g-go out during th-the day.”

He has a point. “I think you three will not last all night and tomorrow with me.”

“That a challenge?” Tim asks, his brow cocking.

You shrug. “You three are humans, and I am not. I have pretty much endless stamina.”

“That’s a challenge.” Brian smirks.

You look at Tim, “Please, just fuck me.”

“Of course.” He smiles.

Tim is out of his underwear and on you in seconds. You are flush with the wall, and Tim is pressed against you. His hand grabs at your thigh, and you wrap it around his waist. Tim’s cock pushes into you and you groan. He lets out a low moan and you hear his heart rate pick up. Your hands are on his shoulders, and you press your forehead to his. Your arms wrap around his neck and refrain from scratching his back. You are still learning your own strength.

In no time, Tim is pumping in and out of you. Your hips are chasing his every time he pulls away and his hands are gripping you tightly. His bruising grip does not let up, it only becomes tighter as you moan and whine for him.

“Tim,” You cry out, “I’m-”

Tim’s pace quickens but is still not sloppy. His movements are thought out and nowhere near sloppy. The sound of him fucking you fills the room, and for you it is only amplified. You can feel, hear, and smell everything way better than when you were human. It is making you come quicker.

“Where can I-?”

Tim starts, and you do not let him finish. “Inside.” You huff out, “can’t get pregnant.”

That is all the reassurance he seems to need. Everything in you becomes tense. You are starting to see stars. As you come, so does Tim. He releases inside of you. You are nowhere near done though.

“Brian,” You lean your head back against the wall, Tim pulls away, his come is spilling out of you. Brian perks up. “Lay on the bed please. Preferably not clothed.” Brian is quick to undress and get on the bed. He is hard, seems to have been since you drank from him earlier. You bounce back fast and go towards the end of the bed. “Mind if I ride you?”

He shakes his head. “Do whatever you want to me.”

You nod. You get on the bed and crawl up towards Brian, straddling him. You hover above his cock and place one of your hands on his chest. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be.”

You nod. You place yourself on his cock and begin to move slowly. You begin to bounce, your pace becoming steady. You are slow at first. Brian grabs your hips with his hands. His grip is about as strong as Tim’s. It is fueling you. You lean forward slightly, one hand still on Brian’s chest, and the other grabbing the headboard.

It is becoming a lot for you. All the sensations are so much. The sound of your skin smacking against his, the feeling of Tim and Toby watching you, and the smell of blood and arousal in the room.

Brian’s hands guide you, almost forcing you to go faster. Figuring that must be what he wants, you pick up the speed. Your nails dig into the wood of the headboard, scratching the polished surface.

“Fuck!” Brian hisses out. “Just like that. You’re so good-” He reassures you.

You lean forward slightly, beginning to see stars again. “Shit!” You cry. “I can’t-” You make sure to not push down on his chest. Instead, you put all of your strength into the hand grabbing the headboard. You hear it snap as Brian comes inside of you. You do not immediately get off of him. Your fingers are digging into the splintered wood as your pace finally slows.

“Fuck,” You pull your hand from the headboard. “I’m so… Damn, I’m sorry.” You lean against Brian as you come back down from your high and you huff.

“You broke my headboard.” Tim sounds unamused.

“And- And the co-couch is fucked too.” Toby mentions, causing you to groan.

Brian’s arms wrap around you, and he laughs. “Come on guys, they’re still learning their own strength.”

“Yeah!” You snap back. “You’re all lucky I didn’t hurt any of you… More than I may have…” Brian’s hand rubs up and down your back. “As much as I would love to sit here, I need to clean up. And you three probably need to take some Motrin or something. Those bites will hurt soon.”

You push yourself up and begin to walk towards the bathroom. As you are leaving the room, Toby starts to speak to Brian and Tim. You ignore it, since he seems to be talking to them, and not you. You tune out what he is talking about and begin to clean yourself up. Again.

As you slide into the hot shower all you can think about is the new relationship forming between the four of you. You sigh and relax in the water. You do not have a care in the world, not even to Toby is talking about just outside in the room across the hall. All that matters is you have three people who seem to accept you. Even if you are some bloodlust ridden creature.

[lemon-berri]

Imagine Gojo Satoru with a partner who loves to bake...

Everyone knows this man has an abominable sweet tooth. He quite literally doesn't stop, sometimes you swear he has a bottomless pit where his stomach should be. How does he eat that much sugar and still look that good anyway?

But he's also a busy man. Oftentimes he works into the early hours of the morning, he doesn't sleep much, and what little free time he has he prefers to spend with you.

Satoru thinks he's the luckiest man alive. Not only is his sweet partner the most gorgeous person he's ever witnessed, not only do you take amazing care of him, but you also bake.

It's a common occurrence for him to wake up on the mornings to the smell of something sweet enticing him towards the kitchen. He finds you there. Usually you wake up bright and early so by the time he saunters out of bed you're already washing up. He always stops you. After all, you've been up putting your efforts into baking - it's only fair that he does the washing.

He loves to try the new recipes you attempt. Macaroons? He's inhaling those. Strawberry pie? Gone in one sitting. Once you made a Bruce cake, Satoru still swears that was the best day of his life.

He's definitely the type of partner who'd take interest in your hobbies. Seeing you happy makes him happy- why wouldn't he want to be a part of your joy? So sometimes you bake together. Albeit, to varying degrees of success.

Satoru tries his best, he really does. But he can't help the fact he's quite messy in the kitchen. Folding batter turns into a splashing mess of ingredients around the kitchen. His face is white with flour. How did he get icing on the ceiling?

But there are also the times it goes well. When he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and watches with interest how you decorate cupcakes with floral frosting. Or when you stir things together, your slow and steady pace mixed with his strength.

You kiss batter off his fingers to taste test your creations. While he leaves sweet kisses on your cheek where flour has somehow stained your beautiful skin. You both choose your favourite flavours and toppings together, and come up with all sorts of ideas on what to make. Whether chaotic or sweet, baking together is always more fun.

His heart melts when he finds the little treats you like to pack him with his lunch. A triple chocolate muffin, perhaps some cookies. Sometimes he finds cake pops decorated like various characters in there. And you leave him sweet notes to go along with it, ones that get him through any hard day.

The house always smells like sugar and the sweetest of fruits, the fridge is full to the brim with treats, and that sweet smile of yours is enough to give anyone a sugar rush. Ever since you came into his life, everything's been sweeter. And he wouldn't trade your dynamic for the world.

Dropping this and running away.

Once again this isn't proof read if you find any spelling errors please do hesitate to tell me.

Thank you for reading 🩵 ily all

[thecaptainofcosmichorrors]

I see another cookie run writer hehe!!

Im Not Sure If you're okay with poly or not...If not just do them separately! Buttt Smc and Pure Vanilla relationship headcanons pretty pleaseee :P

[Am I okay with Poly?! You have no idea dear Anonymous, I can not get enough of these silly cookies together! Thank you for entertaining my wildest of whims (this actually cracked me up because I just put in one of my newest posts that I’m totally cool with it). I hail you by your new name, “writer ✍️ anonymous”!]

Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk x Reader headcanons!

You absolutely started dating Pure Vanilla before being Shadow Milk Cookie, I can’t imagine it the other way around just because of his personality; not the biggest fan of sharing, but more specifically? Once you’re in a relationship with him, you’re his for life. Pure Vanilla is a lot more prone to being open to that.

Speaking of open, the two of you definitely had a conversation when the topic arrives. It’s crucial to Pure Vanilla the two of you are on the same page, and only when the two of you are does he acts on any feelings of his.

Depending on what you are definitely would change the dynamic of your strange trio; while they’re totally capable of dating a mortal cookie, it would also be more interesting to be immortal—especially when you get into the nitty-gritty of how this is possible.

If you’re one of the original pre-corrupted beast that somehow resisted corruption, it’s going to be messy on Shadow Milk’s side; there’s a bit of resentment mixed with a yearning to reconnect, because you so intrinsically understand what it was like to deal with such corruption—it was madness. Pure Vanilla would admire your resilience and appreciate your help with the other Ancients, if you did decide to reveal your true origins.

Getting back on track, the start of your relationship with Pure Vanilla is a little overwhelming? He’s so caught up that it can be a bit overbearing in its own way, especially with his almost instinctual need to please and care for you; if you’re not careful and don’t nip it in the butt early, he’ll end up love-bombing you more more than not.

He doesn’t mean any ill-will, he just really doesn’t want anything to happen to you and wants you to know that he loves you a lot. His lack of experience causes him to act on what he thinks you need, which can sometimes be incorrect. Once he calms down and you talk, you’ll see him be a lot more honest with his feelings; his ways of showing affection are a lot more down to earth and genuine.

Enough of talking about Pure Vanilla cookie, Shadow Milk cookie’s initially pretty antagonistic; him and Pure Vanilla’s history runs deep, that doesn’t even begin to go into his less than stellar feelings on you too—regardless of your status of knowing him.

He thinks that you’re probably just as idiotic as Pure Vanilla, soft and easily pleased; so he resigns himself to just watching the two of you, for his own enjoyment of course! Though the longer he watches he learns quite a bit about you—you’re kind, but beneath that tooth-achingly sweet façade of you is something almost fun? You are much spunkier than he initially anticipated, and are not easily swayed by his simple illusions—a good challenge. While his little games initially come off as antagonistic, the two of you start to have fun in them, and they become more light-hearted by consequence, the physical evidence of his true feelings.

Y’all being together is common, if not, then to be expected. Shadow Milk is always hovering around one of you at any given time; it’s very seldom he isn’t with you an/or Vanilla.

In a relationship, how they treat each other is complicated; they do love each other, but dating your soulmate means that they know everything about you—everything. They know each other like the back of their hand, and are super connected both in the literal sense; but more in a metaphorical sense… this also means they annoy the crap out of each other because of how much they know.

So you might be a bit surprised when I say this based on my other writings, but I actually don’t believe Pure Vanilla is all that physically affectionate; I think he can be, but he’s not clingy. He’s much more verbally affectionate than anything, now Shadow Milk? beyond clingy, needs to be touching you the entire time.

Because of the corruption, I imagine that he’s actually super cold; so anybody that runs hot would be thriving, though Vanilla definitely runs warmer—so you’ll have to get used to the conflicting temperatures. With cuddling, you’ll initially start with just hugging Shadow Milk; but by the end of night, you’ll get sandwiched.

In terms of bonding, you essentially have the entire kingdom to wander and spend time with your lovely cookies. Shadow Milk Cookies takes up writing his own scripts, while Pure Vanilla reads a lot—which means that there’s quite a few times where the three of you working on your respective things in the same room, occasionally getting each other’s feedback and thoughts. Pure Vanilla is pretty contented as long as the two of you are happy, so you’ll have to be pretty vigilant as to not let him let his wants fade into the background in favor of pleasing you two. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, he just wants y’all to be happy.

Pranks are also common, as Shadow Milk cookie is the beast of deceit and lies, but if you show disinterest/dislike in actually getting pranked? he will not prank you and he even let you join in—Pure Vanilla commonly being the victim of them. The degree of danger depends on his mood; nothing that would kill a cookie, he’s changed—besides, he doesn’t wanna sleep on the couch again. If you’re just as into causing mischief as him… you two are an absolutely terrifying duo.

[honeyhaeya]

🎮03 | No Feelings Involved🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, strong language (profanity), explicit language, petty arguments, mention of alcohol consumption, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, suggestive content, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, jealousy, mature themes (alcohol, party scenes), angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. smut warnings: masturbation (both f and m), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex, degradation (really slight. f being called "slut" once), overstimulation, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom) wc: 11,087 ♪ playlist ♪ : one of the girls (the weekend, lily rose depp, jennie), love me harder (ariana grande, the weekend), toxic (britney spears), kiss it better (rihanna), don't blame me (taylor swift).

03

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a vivid, merciless replay of every single humiliating detail from the night before. It wasn't just a hangover—it was the full-course regret special. You'd tried so hard to push the memory of last night into the furthest corner of your mind, but it refused to budge. Instead, it danced right in front of you, mocking you with every cringe-worthy second. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkk.

Groaning, you splashed cold water onto your face, scrubbing with an almost aggressive force as though that would somehow erase your mistakes. This is why alcohol is the devil.

You'd made this promise to yourself before—swearing off drinking after every disastrous night out—but this time, you meant it. Probably. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your thoughts racing. You couldn't let this ruin you. Vulnerability was dangerous. It was messy. It made everything worse. No, you couldn't afford that—not with Jeonghan, especially not with Jeonghan. You straightened your back, glaring at your reflection as if it could fight you back. Be your fucking self, you dumb idiot. But no matter how much you mentally pep-talked yourself, there was no escaping the glaring, undeniable fact: you tried to kiss your boss last night.

What the hell was wrong with you? Even worse, you'd been so drunk that your stupid, impulsive actions had no logic behind them. You didn't even know why you did it. And now you were paying the price. When you arrived at work, Jeonghan was... off. It wasn't his usual self—the playful, teasing boss who would occasionally poke fun at you for being "too serious" or "too good" at your job. No, today he was colder. Detached. His voice was clipped, his instructions sharp and curt. "Get my coffee," he'd said that morning, handing you a slip of paper with the name of some café that you realized, to your horror, was an hour's drive away.

"Wait—this is in another city." "I know." He didn't even look up from his desk. "Be quick about it." You wanted to scream. Was this some kind of punishment? Clearly, yes. But like the professional you prided yourself on being (even though you were currently drowning in humiliation), you'd complied. You got in your car and drove, cursing yourself—and Jeonghan—the entire time. By the time you got back, it was already afternoon. You placed the coffee on his desk, glaring at it because, of course, it had long since gone cold. He didn't even glance at it. "Is there anything else you need?" you asked, keeping your tone as even as possible, though your patience was fraying like a worn thread. "No." He didn't even look at you. "Okay." You turned on your heel, jaw clenched, heart pounding with a mixture of frustration and guilt. This coldness of his—this distance—was suffocating. You wanted to apologize, but how could you when he wouldn't even give you a chance? A text wouldn't cut it. That would be way too insincere. Apologies needed to be face-to-face, with your pride laid bare. But Jeonghan wasn't letting you anywhere near his walls. The day dragged on. The tension between you two was thick enough to slice through, and every interaction felt like walking on shards of glass. You were used to his teasing, his sly remarks, even his annoying requests—but this cold, indifferent Jeonghan was something you weren't prepared for. You only had yourself to blame. By the time the clock struck 6 PM, you were ready to collapse. Still, you lingered by your desk, scrolling mindlessly through emails, hoping he'd say something—maybe even address the elephant in the room. But he never did. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This is hell. Finally, you mustered the courage to approach his office door, knocking lightly. "Jeonghan?" "Come in," came his voice, detached as ever. You pushed the door open, stepping inside. He was seated at his desk, looking over some paperwork, his expression unreadable. "I..." you started, but your throat tightened, and the words caught. His gaze flicked up to you, sharp and expectant, and suddenly, every ounce of bravery you'd scraped together began to crumble. You swallowed hard, your palms sweating. "About last night... I—" "Don't." His voice cut through the air like a knife. Your breath hitched. "I just want to—" "Forget about it." His tone was final, the authority in his voice leaving no room for argument. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something unspoken, something unreadable—that gave you pause. You clenched your fists, nodding stiffly. "Fine." And with that, you turned and left his office, your chest tight and your mind spinning. If he wanted to play this cold war game, then fine. Two could play at that. But deep down, you knew this was far from over.

By the time you finally got home, you wanted nothing more than to curl up under a blanket and forget the entire day. But the universe had other plans. Your phone buzzed with a message from your mom:

Mom: I sent the caretaker home early today, so I'm alone. Could you visit, dear?

You didn't hesitate. Dropping your bag by the door, you grabbed your jacket and started toward the garage. But when you saw your car keys, you frowned.

The bus schedule was unreliable at this hour, and taking the car felt like a hassle. Your gaze drifted to the motorcycle in the corner—a sleek, black machine that hadn't been touched in months. Your chest tightened. The sight of it brought back memories you weren't ready to unpack. Nights spent speeding down empty streets, trying to outrun emotions you didn't want to face. Moments of reckless abandon that had cost you more than you wanted to admit. But tonight, practicality outweighed sentiment. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your helmet and swung a leg over the bike. The engine roared to life, the sound reverberating through the quiet garage.

When you arrived at your mom's house, the familiar warmth of the porch light greeted you. It was comforting, in a way that made your chest ache. But just as you were about to head inside, your phone buzzed with another notification. Mingyu had posted something on X—formerly Twitter—and tagged you. Against your better judgment, you opened the app. There it was: a group photo from last night's event. Mingyu had captioned it, "Last night was one for the books. Kitsunya, you killed it." Killed it? You wanted to scream. If by "killed it," he meant your dignity, then sure. Perfect phrasing. As if that wasn't enough, Seungkwan had chimed in with a reply: @/pledis_boos: Killed it?? She was on another planet with all that alcohol, LMAO. Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Of course, the chaos didn't end there. Your Discord server was in shambles with nonstop teasing:

[#general] min9yu: Streaming hangover queennn ho5hi_kwon: Who's taking bets she skips streaming again?? pledis_boos: After that karaoke performance? definitely. kitsunya: i hope you all die a miserable death

You clenched your teeth, heat flooding your face. Slamming your phone shut, you muted the server before they could fire back. You were already frustrated beyond belief, and their antics weren't helping. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into your pocket and turned your attention to the house. You were here for your mom, not for these idiots.

Stepping inside, the familiar scent of lavender and warm spices immediately wrapped around you. It was as though time had stopped in this house. The same photos lined the walls, the same throw blanket draped over the couch. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lifted. "Sweetie?" your mom called from the kitchen. "Yeah, it's me!" you replied, slipping off your shoes and making your way toward her. She was seated at the kitchen table, a teapot in front of her and her usual serene smile on her face. "You didn't have to come all this way." "Of course I did," you said, leaning down to hug her. "How are you feeling?" "Better, now that you're here." Her words were simple, but they hit you hard. No matter how chaotic your life felt, being here always reminded you of what mattered most. For the first time all day, you allowed yourself to breathe. You sat down beside her, letting the conversation flow easily, her calm presence grounding you. Maybe the rest of the world could wait. For now, you were just her child, sitting at the kitchen table, finding solace in the only place that had always felt like home.

The hum of the studio buzzed around you as you took a long sip of your coffee, letting the warm bitterness steady your nerves after dealing with the overly flirtatious model. His incessant chatter had been more of a hindrance than a distraction, dragging out a task that should've taken half the time.

You needed a moment to breathe, so you leaned against the far counter, watching the set come to life as photographers, assistants, and models swarmed like bees.

Your brief peace was interrupted by the chime of your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart sank as you saw it was from X. Another tag. Another random mention. You opened it, eyebrows knitting together as you read the tweet. @/kitsunya is lowkey hacking, I've watched her gameplay on her streams. Your lips pressed into a thin line, and you hesitated before clicking the attached video. It was a screen recording of someone playing League of Legends, supposedly you. The movements in the video were eerily familiar to your own, down to the champion choices and gameplay style. But something felt... off. The clip showed a flawless streak of kills and maneuvers you didn't recognize. At one point, the screen glitched, a strange overlay flashing briefly—something that screamed "hacking" to anyone who didn't know better. "That's not me," you muttered, the words a mix of disbelief and annoyance. Your fingers swiped down to the comments, and your heart sank further at the sea of responses.

- "She's so fake. always knew she was too good to be true" - "Imagine trying this hard to be relevant. Cringe." - "cancel her, wtf."

You bit the inside of your cheek, scrolling further to find a glimmer of reason among the mob.

- This doesn't even look like her gameplay. I've watched all her streams—this never happened. - "Bro, this is so edited. Look at the glitching when has she ever used a cheat?" - "She's bad at LOL sometimes, lol"

A small, bitter laugh escaped you at the last comment. The defender wasn't wrong. If anything, your League skills were average at best. Shutting your phone, you exhaled slowly. This wasn't the first time someone had tried to drag your name into some petty drama, but this? Accusations of hacking? That was new—and exhausting.

Calm. Professional. Handle it later, you told yourself. Your hands tightened around your coffee cup, knuckles whitening.

The scandal didn't disappear as quickly as you'd hoped. By the time you wrapped up at the studio, your socials were flooded. Notifications pinged relentlessly, and your Discord server wasn't any quieter. Mingyu and Seungkwan, of course, had chimed in.

[#general] min9yu: Saw the scandal. Want me to 'accidentally' leak your bad League stats? Clear your name instantly. pledis_boos: Fr tho, why would they say hacking when you literally suck at dodging skill shots kitsunya: shut up

You slammed your phone into your bag, groaning as you walked toward your parked motorcycle. Their teasing was harmless, but the noise around the whole situation was eating at you.

You didn't even realize how tense you were until your phone buzzed again—this time, a DM from Wonwoo.

everyone_woo: Saw the video. Want me to handle it?

You blinked at the message, unsure how to feel. Wonwoo wasn't exactly warm—his jokes often toed the line of annoyance—but he wasn't a liar either.

kitsunya: handle it how? everyone_woo: Show proof it's fake. Or just flame them in the server. Your pick.

You rolled your eyes. The image of Wonwoo in your server flaming trolls was ridiculous—and oddly tempting.

kitsunya: thanks, but ive got this everyone_woo: Sure. Just try not to cry about it on stream later.

You glared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard as your blood boiled.

kitsunya: fuck you, jeon.

The typing bubble popped up immediately.

everyone_woo: You wish.

You groaned, shoving your phone back into your bag as you straddled your motorcycle. The engine roared to life, drowning out your spiraling thoughts for a moment.

Focus on fixing this later, you told yourself again. But as you sped through the streets, the frustration churned in your chest, mixing with a spark of determination.

Whoever thought they could drag you down with a cheap, fake video clearly underestimated you. And if Wonwoo and the others had their way, they'd probably make sure the trolls regretted it too.

You didn't know what the next stream would bring, but one thing was clear—you weren't going to let this slide.

As the hours dragged on, the noise surrounding the scandal only grew louder. You had tried ignoring it, but your notifications were relentless. Your phone buzzed with messages from fans, haters, and even a few friends teasing you. After scrolling through the endless comments, you decided enough was enough.

Opening X, you navigated to the original post causing the uproar. The video was still playing, and the comments section was an absolute battlefield. Some were trashing you, while others valiantly defended your honor. You smirked to yourself.

With a deep breath, you typed your response. Calm, composed, with a pinch of playful sass—your signature style.

@/kitsunya: Wow, I didn't realize I got a skill boost overnight. Wish I had this kind of gameplay in real life. But hey, next time you edit, try not to glitch the screen, it's giving 'rookie hacker.' 🥰 Stay safe, everyone! 💕

You hit post and shut your phone off with a smirk. That should shut them up for now.

Later that evening, you fired up your stream. The usual intro music played, and the chat instantly exploded.

Chat: - "OMG, she's here!!! 🔥" - "HANDLE THEM!" - "say the word and we'll roast them for you!" - "So you're a 'hacker' now, huh? XD"

You leaned back in your chair, your trademark fox ears headband perched snugly on your head. "Alright, alright," you began, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Let's address the elephant in the room—or, in this case, the poorly edited League of Legends gameplay."

The chat erupted with laughter emojis.

"First of all," you continued, "if you're going to accuse someone of hacking, at least make the footage look convincing. I mean, come on! That glitch was so bad, even my grandma would've caught it. And she doesn't even know what a mouse is, okay?"

Your playful tone had the chat spamming "LOL" and "QUEEN ENERGY."—You've never really liked being called that (queen), it was a bit cringe but if that's what your fans would call you, you'll gladly let them be. Besides, they just knew how you hated it, too.

You quickly pulled up the clip in question, dissecting it for your viewers. "Look at this," you said, pointing out the glaring inconsistencies. "That's not even my interface. I use a custom overlay, so nice try, but not quite. And these moves? Yeah, I wish I was that good, but y'all know I play like a bronze-tier gremlin on most days."

- "NOT THE GREMLIN LMAOO" - "She's roasting herself and the haters at the same time 💀" - "Petition to make 'bronze-tier gremlin' a merch line."

You shrugged, smirking at the chaos you'd stirred. "Anyway, to the person who made this... next time, put some actual effort into your smear campaign. This was embarrassing—for you, not me." You ended the segment with a wink before transitioning to your usual gameplay.

Throughout the stream, you maintained your signature IDGAF attitude, brushing off the drama like dust on your shoulder. As the games went on, the chat buzzed with renewed energy, rallying behind you with jokes and support.

By the time you ended the stream, you felt lighter. The haters had nothing on you, and your fans? They reminded you why you kept doing this in the first place.

As you signed off, you left one final remark. "To anyone still doubting me, feel free to stick around. You might just learn what real gameplay looks like. And to my fans—love you guys. Kitsunya out."

With that, you clicked the end-stream button, a triumphant grin spreading across your face. Let the haters try again. They'd never win against you.

The aftermath of the "hacker" scandal didn't deter you—it only made you sharper. Your streams saw a spike in viewers, curious to witness the alleged "cheater" in action. Meanwhile, your usual gaming circle hadn't changed much, except for one small, persistent annoyance: Wonwoo.

It started innocently enough during a group stream with Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Wonwoo. You were all queued for a round of Valorant, and as the match loaded, Seungkwan's voice filled the mic.

"Alright, team, let's get this W. Kitsunya, you got my back, right?"

"Always, Boo," you replied smoothly, earning a groan from Mingyu.

"Can you two not flirt on comms?" Mingyu teased.

"Jealous, Mingyu?" you shot back. "Don't worry, you can watch and learn how it's done."

But before Mingyu could retort, Wonwoo's dry voice cut in. "Can we focus on the game instead of this middle school banter? Some of us actually want to win."

"Relax, Jeon," you quipped. "You'll still bottom frag no matter how focused you are."

The chat exploded with laughing emojis and "OOF" comments as Seungkwan cackled. "Oh my god, she really said that!"

"Funny," Wonwoo replied evenly, his tone calm but with a hint of sharpness. "At least I don't need an entire fanbase hyping me up to stay relevant."

The mood shifted slightly. Mingyu let out a low whistle, and Seungkwan muttered, "Yikes, is it getting warm in here, or is that just me?"

Your grip on your mouse tightened. "Oh, I'm sorry," you said, feigning sweetness. "Is my relevance bothering you, Jeon? Don't worry, I'm sure someone out there appreciates your minimalist personality."

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Big words for someone who spent the last week crying over an edited gameplay clip."

"Okay, timeout!" Mingyu cut in. "Can we save the passive-aggressive flirting for later? We've got a match to lose."

"I'm not flirting," you and Wonwoo said simultaneously, which only made Seungkwan laugh harder.

Chat: - "WHY DOES THIS FEEL LIKE A KDRAMA?" - "Enemies to lovers speedrun when???" - "Wonwoo is spicy tonight, ngl"

As the matches continued, the banter between you and Wonwoo escalated. When you missed a critical shot, he chimed in, "Nice aim. Were you aiming at the sky for inspiration?"

"Bold of you to assume you'd know anything about aim," you shot back after watching him miss an easy shot of his own.

Seungkwan and Mingyu had a field day moderating the chaos.

"Guys, if you kill each other, can I have your streaming setups?" Mingyu joked, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Not unless you learn how to aim first," you and Wonwoo snapped in unison, which made everyone lose it.

Chat: - "They're SO ANNOYING TO EACH OTHER I LOVE IT." - "Can someone clip this toxic energy? I'm obsessed." - "seungkwan is the only one holding this team together lol."

After the stream ended, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Fighting with Wonwoo was mentally exhausting, but you had to admit—your streams were a hit whenever he was around. The audience loved the dynamic, and a small part of you found it... entertaining, in a frustrating way.

Still, you were determined not to lose to him, whether it was in gameplay or banter. If Wonwoo wanted a war, you were more than ready to bring it.

Little did you know, Wonwoo was thinking the exact same thing.

Absolutely, the unresolved tension between Jeonghan and MC is still lingering in the background, simmering beneath all the chaos of gaming streams and playful (or not-so-playful) fights with Wonwoo. Here's how that thread can weave into the story while keeping it naturally integrated:

The banter between you and Wonwoo was in full swing during a round of Valorant. Jeonghan, ever the observer, stayed quiet for most of the game, only chiming in occasionally with sarcastic one-liners that set the group laughing.

However, every so often, you caught him cutting in with comments that felt pointed, though they were disguised under his usual casual tone.

For instance, when you accidentally botched a round by peeking too early, Jeonghan couldn't resist.

"You're usually so composed, Kitsunya," he remarked, voice smooth. "Guess all this stress is getting to you."

Your throat tightened for a moment, but you didn't let it show. "Or maybe it's because I'm carrying half of this team. Can't relate, though—I wouldn't know what it's like to sit back and let everyone else do the work."

Mingyu wheezed into the mic. "Oh my god, she went there."

Jeonghan only chuckled. "I must have touched a nerve. Relax, it's just a game, sweetheart."

The word hung heavy in the air, and the chat exploded.

Chat: - "sweetheart? HELLO???" - "Did anyone else feel that dagger???" - "Kitsunya is DONE WITH HIM LMAO."

You stayed professional, though your grip on your mouse tightened. "Relax? I'm so relaxed," you shot back. "It's not like I'm the one stalking people's streams to stir the pot."

The silence that followed was loud. Wonwoo laughed softly. "Alright, that was savage."

Jeonghan let out an amused hum but didn't respond directly. His lack of a comeback only added fuel to the tension.

You ended the stream with your usual closing remarks, ignoring the way your heart still raced from Jeonghan's presence. The moment you were offline, you leaned back in your chair, letting out a groan of frustration.

Why was he still getting under your skin? Why couldn't you just forget what happened? It wasn't like he'd even acknowledged it outside of these subtle, cutting moments.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. A message from Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: You've been sharper lately. Don't let it ruin your aim.

You stared at the text, unsure whether to laugh, scream, or throw your phone out the window. Instead, you settled on typing a curt reply:

You: thanks for the unsolicited advice, boss. ill try not to let your words haunt me.

You hesitated before hitting send. Was that too much? Too little? The overthinking was exhausting.

No reply came. Typical.

Jeonghan continued to act as if nothing had ever happened. He still handed you ridiculous tasks—like picking up coffee from the other side of the city—but now, there was an added layer of... something. Whether it was tension or amusement, you couldn't tell. At one point, while delivering a report to him, you accidentally brushed past his desk. The proximity made your pulse quicken. Jeonghan looked up, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Careful," he said smoothly. "You're spilling your coffee." You glanced down, realizing you'd almost tipped the cup in your hand. "Right. My bad." His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. "You're distracted. Anything on your mind?" You shot him a glare, but it lacked your usual fire. "Nope. Just trying to make sure you get your perfectly brewed coffee without having to lift a finger." Jeonghan hummed. "Good. Keep up the hard work, sweetheart." There it was again—that word. It set your teeth on edge, but you refused to let him see how it affected you. Instead, you plastered on your best fake smile and left his office without another word.

Jeonghan reclined in his sleek office chair, the dim glow of his second monitor lighting his face as he watched the stream playing out in front of him.

Seungcheol was supposed to be live, but the man was nowhere to be seen, and instead, Jeonghan found himself once again on your stream. He didn't know how or why he ended up there, but he wasn't about to click away now—not when you were in the middle of what seemed to be an increasingly fiery exchange with Wonwoo. "You call that a headshot, Kitsunya?" Wonwoo's voice cut through the audio, calm and sharp as always. "Maybe you should stick to being a cheerleader for the team." Your scoff came out quick and biting. "And maybe you should stick to solo play since clearly you don't know what teamwork means. What are you, allergic to assists?" The chat exploded with laughter and emotes, and Jeonghan couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. You were quick, sharper than most, and he hated how entertaining it was to watch you put Wonwoo in his place. Wonwoo's response was dry, but there was a hint of amusement. "Big words for someone whose accuracy is about as consistent as Mingyu's cooking skills." "Oh, that's rich coming from the guy who got sniped by a bronze player last week," you shot back effortlessly, the grin evident in your tone. Jeonghan's jaw tightened. He should have closed the stream. He should have focused on his work. But instead, he found himself gripping the edge of his desk, irritation bubbling under the surface. Since when had you and Wonwoo gotten so... close? "Sweetheart, don't you think you're taking this roasting thing a little far?" Wonwoo said casually, the pet name clearly meant to get a rise out of you. You didn't skip a beat. "Don't call me sweetheart. I'm not your sidekick." Jeonghan's smirk vanished. He'd been calling you that for weeks now—using it as a way to get under your skin—but hearing it from Wonwoo suddenly made it feel... wrong. Why did it bother him so much?

Jeonghan sat in his office, staring blankly at the report in front of him. The words blurred together, meaningless against the din of his own thoughts. He clenched his jaw, shoving the papers aside as his mind betrayed him yet again, wandering back to the stream last night. To you and Wonwoo, bickering with that effortless chemistry that felt so... natural. Too natural.

The knock at the door startled him. He straightened, a carefully neutral expression slipping into place.

"Come in."

You entered, your movements brisk as you carried a stack of documents. "Here's the draft you asked for," you said, your tone cool.

Jeonghan's eyes lingered on you for a fraction longer than he intended. "Morning, sweetheart," he said, the words coming out smoother than he felt.

You froze for a split second before shooting him a glare. "Don't call me that."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. "Why not? You didn't seem to mind when Wonwoo called you that last night."

You blinked, confusion flickering in your expression before it hardened into annoyance. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he replied, his tone calm but biting.

"Jeonghan," you snapped, crossing your arms as you stared him down. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" He tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. "I don't have one. Just an observation. You looked... comfortable with him."

The tension in the room thickened, but you didn't back down. "So what if I was? Are you keeping tabs on me now?"

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of something darker, something raw. "I don't need to keep tabs. It's obvious."

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. "Obvious?"

"You're distracted," he said, his voice softer now but no less cutting. "Is it him?"

Something inside you snapped. "If you have something to say, Jeonghan, say it. Stop with the mind games."

His expression flickered—anger, frustration, guilt?—before it settled into something unreadable. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he looked at you with a rare vulnerability. "You've changed," he murmured, almost to himself. "You're different around him."

You inhaled sharply, his words hitting deeper than you wanted to admit. "Don't act like you care," you said, your voice shaking with suppressed emotion.

His eyes darkened. "And what if I do?"

The silence that followed was deafening. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss. Finally, you turned on your heel, your heart pounding as you headed for the door.

"You kissed me," his voice stopped you cold, low and quiet but filled with an edge that cut through the air. "And then... you act like it meant nothing."

You froze, your hand hovering over the doorknob. When you turned back to him, your eyes were blazing. "You think I don't know that? You've been shutting me out ever since, Jeonghan. So don't you dare act like I'm the one who walked away first."

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, taut and trembling.

Jeonghan stared at you, his carefully crafted mask crumbling. "Maybe I thought it would be easier," he admitted, his voice rough. "If I pushed you away. If I let you go."

Your throat tightened, but you refused to let him see you falter. "Well, congratulations. It worked."

Before he could respond, you turned and walked out, slamming the door behind you.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his head tipping back as he stared at the ceiling. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts a mess of regret and longing.

What the hell am I doing?

He was the one crossing that barrier, when he has been pushing you away on the past few weeks. Over and over again.  

The week had been chaotic, as usual. Between balancing work, streams, and trying to ignore the mess of emotions that had been haunting you since that damn drunken kiss incident with Jeonghan, you barely had time to breathe. Friday rolled around, and you were finally looking forward to a weekend of peace—just you, your PC, and maybe a new game to dive into.

That was the plan, at least, until Seungcheol called you earlier that week.

Monday

"Hey," his voice was casual, but you could hear the grin behind it. "I'm throwing a party this weekend. Just a small thing, you know, close friends and streamers. You in?" You hesitated, already knowing what your answer would be. "Thanks for the invite, Seungcheol, but I've got plans this weekend. Sorry." "Come on," he replied smoothly. "It's been a while since we all hung out. You could use a little break, don't you think?" "No can do," you said firmly, giving a polite laugh to soften the rejection. "But have fun." He didn't push further, just chuckled and left it at that. You thought that would be the end of it. You thought wrong.

That should've been the end of it.

It wasn't.

By the time Wednesday came around, Seungkwan and Hoshi had picked up the torch where Seungcheol had left off.

Wednesday  

The VC comms were alive with chatter as you queued up for another Overwatch match.

"Okay, but seriously," Seungkwan's voice broke through the din, incredulous and a little too loud in your headset. "Why aren't you coming to the party?"

"Yeah," Hoshi chimed in, just as exasperated. "What's so important that you're ditching us?"

You groaned, adjusting your mic as you loaded into the game. "I told you. I have plans."

"Plans to do what? Sit at home?" Seungkwan asked, disbelief coloring every word.

"And what's wrong with that?" you shot back, your tone clipped as you lined up a headshot on an enemy.

"It's antisocial, that's what," Hoshi said, as though he'd just diagnosed you with some grave illness.

"You're turning into Wonwoo," Seungkwan added, laughing.

"Leave me out of this," Wonwoo's voice cut in dryly, though you could hear the faintest hint of amusement.

"Listen," you interrupted, your patience thinning. "I've already said no, like, a million times. Can we drop it?"

But they didn't drop it. Of course, they didn't.

Thursday

By the next evening, their campaign of peer pressure had reached ridiculous heights.

You were halfway through a stream, your chat buzzing with energy, when Seungkwan's voice came through the VC again.

"Alright, hear me out," he began, his tone taking on that wheedling edge that set your teeth on edge. "What if we make a deal?"

"No," you said flatly, sniping an enemy with practiced precision.

"You didn't even hear the deal!" Hoshi whined, sounding genuinely offended.

"I don't need to," you retorted, eyes locked on the game. "The answer's still no."

"Okay, fine," Seungkwan said dramatically, as though he were deeply wounded. "Then I guess we'll just spend the whole party talking about how lame you are for not showing up."

"Seriously?" you muttered, incredulous.

"And maybe," Hoshi chimed in, "we'll tell everyone about that time you ulted yourself into a wall."

"Will you shut the fuck up?" you snapped, finally losing your cool.

"Fine," Seungkwan relented eventually, though the grin in his tone was unmistakable. "But we're not done with you yet."

In the middle of your stream that evening, as you queued for an Overwatch match, their voices rang out over the VC comms. "Okay, but like, seriously, why aren't you coming to the party?" Seungkwan started, his tone incredulous. "Yeah, what's so important that you're ditching us?" Hoshi chimed in, sounding equally offended. You groaned, adjusting your headset as you focused on loading into the game. "I told you, I have plans." "Plans to do what? Sit at home and stream?" Seungkwan pressed. "And what's wrong with that?" you shot back, your tone clipped. "It's antisocial, that's what," Hoshi said. "You're turning into Wonwoo." "Hey, leave me out of this," Wonwoo's voice cut in from the other side of the comms, calm but with a hint of annoyance. "Listen," you interrupted, trying to steer the conversation away. "I've already said no, like, a million times. Can we drop it?" But they wouldn't let up.

Thursday Night By the next night, their persistence had reached new heights. As you streamed another late-night session of Overwatch, the VC comms lit up once again with Seungkwan and Hoshi's relentless chatter. "Okay, hear me out," Seungkwan started, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. "What if we make a deal?" "Absolutely not," you replied instantly, sniping an enemy on-screen with precision. "You didn't even hear the deal," Hoshi whined. "Don't need to," you said, eyes locked on the game. "The answer's still no." "Fine," Seungkwan said dramatically. "Then I guess we'll just spend the whole party talking about how lame you are for not showing up." "Seriously?" you muttered, your tone dripping with disbelief. "And maybe we'll tell everyone about that one time you accidentally ulted yourself into a wall," Hoshi added with a snicker. "Will you two *shut the fuck up*?" you snapped, your patience wearing thin. "It's been three fucking days of this. Take a hint." The chat lit up with laughter and emotes as your viewers enjoyed the chaos.

Chat Highlights: - "LMAOOO THEY'RE SO RELENTLESS 💀" - "Poor Kitsunya can't catch a break." - "I stan the peer pressure."

"Fine, fine," Seungkwan said finally, though his tone suggested he wasn't done. But for the rest of the night, they managed to keep the nagging to a minimum—at least, until the match ended.

Friday Morning

You woke up to your phone vibrating on your nightstand.

[#general] - 8:13 AM pledis_boos: [image attached of your Overwatch avatar] Look at this, Hoshi. Doesn't this remind you of someone? ho5hi_kwon: Yeah, someone who doesn't know how to have fun. pledis_boos: Right??? ho5hi_kwon: Definitely not naming names though.

You groaned, burying your face in your pillow before tossing your phone aside.

DM from [fuckass bitch dickhead] - 8:30 AM  Wonwoo: You're coming to the party, right?

You blinked at the screen, caught completely off guard. Wonwoo never texted first unless it was something gaming-related or directly relevant to a stream.

You: why do you care?

It took him a full minute to reply, which in Wonwoo time meant he was probably rolling his eyes at your response

Wonwoo: I don't. Just figured someone should ask before Seungkwan harasses you into blocking him. You: hes not that bad Wonwoo:  Don't lie to yourself. I heard him last night practically begging you to show up. It was embarrassing. For you. You: why are you bringing this up anyway? didnt peg you as the party type. Wonwoo: I'm not

You waited, watching the three dots pop up, disappear, and then pop up again before his next message finally came through.

Wonwoo: I just think it'd be funny watching you try to survive a party without gamer brain kicking in. Bet you'd get the itch to stream mid-conversation and ditch. You: are you serious right now? Wonwoo: Completely. You: wonwoo i swear to god  Wonwoo: What? Did I hit a nerve? Can't handle the idea of touching grass for once? You: if this is your idea of convincing me its not working fucker Wonwoo: Good, because I don't care if you go or not. You: THEN WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION???" Wonwoo: Because it's fun annoying you. Isn't that what friends are for? You: i fucking hate you you should just die Wonwoo: No, you don't

You glared at your screen, scrolling through your options for a witty comeback.

Wonwoo: Look, if it's about him, don't let it stop you. Your fingers froze mid-type. You: what are you talking about Wonwoo: Don't play dumb. You: im not Wonwoo: Sure. Anyway, just saying—if you're scared of seeing Jeonghan, you should just suck it up. You can always leave early if it gets awkward.

Your stomach churned at the mention of his name. So Wonwoo noticed? He's always been perceptive.

You: youre insufferable Wonwoo: I try. So, see you at the party? You: still not going :p Wonwoo: Liar.

And just like that, he went offline, leaving you with nothing but your reflection in the black mirror of your phone screen and the uncomfortable knot tightening in your chest.

By noon, after hours of fighting with yourself—and your growing suspicion that Wonwoo might actually have a point—you gave in.

DM to Seungcheol - 12:47 PM You: fine. ill stop by for a bit Seungcheol: Knew you'd come around. See you there.

You sighed, already dreading what you'd gotten yourself into.  

The Party - 8:30 PM

You weren't sure why you let yourself be talked into this. The thrum of music greeted you as soon as you stepped into the lavish apartment Seungcheol had rented for the evening. It reeked of overpriced cologne, faint perfume, and an energy you couldn't immediately name but recognized as too much.

Seungkwan was the first to spot you.

"YOU CAME!" he shouted, practically launching himself at you. He'd always been the overly enthusiastic type, but tonight, his excitement seemed to border on hysteria. "I knew you'd show up! You look so cute—who are you trying to impress?"

"No one," you muttered, brushing him off with a half-smile. "I'm here because I promised Seungcheol. Don't get weird about it."

"Sure, sure," Seungkwan replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He glanced over your shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. "By the way, guess who's already here."

You kept your expression neutral. "Who?"

"Jeonghan," he whispered, his voice practically dripping with scandal. "And some girl."

Of course.

You scanned the room, your eyes immediately landing on him. Jeonghan stood near the bar, drink in hand, with a girl perched close, leaning into his space like she belonged there. He looked effortlessly put together in a dark button-up, his signature smirk in place as he responded to something she said.

"Why do you even care?" Seungkwan teased, following your gaze. "Wait. Don't tell me—"

"I don't," you cut him off, turning away sharply. "I need a drink."

Seungkwan giggled, but he let you go. You made your way to the kitchen. The faint sound of laughter and conversations faded as you poured yourself a drink and leaned against the counter, hoping no one would bother you.

"Called it."

The voice came from behind you.

You didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Wonwoo," you sighed, turning just enough to glare at him. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark hoodie and jeans making him look out of place among the more dressed-up crowd.

"What?" he asked, sipping his drink. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Against my better judgment," you muttered.

Wonwoo raised a brow. "And yet, here you are, pretending you're not dying to check if anyone's noticed you."

Your cheeks heated. "I wasn't—"

"Save it," he interrupted, smirking. "You're bad at lying."

You rolled your eyes, taking a long sip of your drink. "Why are you even here? Didn't think parties were your thing."

"They're not," he said, shrugging. "But someone's gotta keep you from self-destructing."

"Gee, thanks," you deadpanned.

"You're welcome."

Later That Night

You thought you were doing a decent job of avoiding Jeonghan until he appeared out of nowhere, stepping into your path as you tried to slip away from the main room.

"Leaving already?" His voice was smooth, a little too casual, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something sharper.

You froze. "Jeonghan."

He tilted his head, studying you. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"Didn't think you'd care."

"Touché." His lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy."

"Busy avoiding me?"

You glared at him. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Maybe." He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the drink in your hand before returning to your face. "Someone thinks you're trying to prove a point by showing up tonight."

"Let them think whatever they want," you said, your tone colder than you intended.

Jeonghan smirked. "So it's not about her?"

"Not everything is about her," you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. "And if you're just here to play games, don't bother. I'm not in the mood."

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned in, his voice dropping low.

"You think you know the game we're playing," he murmured, "but you don't. Not yet."

Before you could respond, he stepped back, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

From across the room, you caught Wonwoo watching, his expression unreadable.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you turned your head, it felt like someone's gaze lingered a second too long—whether it was Jeonghan's cryptic smirks or Wonwoo's occasional glances, like he was trying to piece something together.

But you didn't have time for either of them. Not tonight.

Not until Wonwoo found you again.

"Drinking alone?" he teased, appearing in the hallway where you'd gone to catch your breath.

You scowled at him. "Are you stalking me now?"

"No," he said easily, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. "Just thought I'd find you sulking somewhere. You're predictable."

"And you're annoying," you shot back.

"Funny. Didn't stop you from talking to me."

You opened your mouth to retort, but he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost teasing tone. "Let me guess. He said something to piss you off."

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb," he said, tilting his head toward the party behind you. "Jeonghan. You've been dodging him all night, but I saw the way you tensed up earlier."

You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of how close he was. "It's none of your business."

"I know," he said, his gaze sharp, searching. "But it's entertaining. Watching you flinch every time he's near."

"Go to hell, Wonwoo," you muttered, turning away.

You barely made it two steps before his hand caught your wrist.

"Let go," you hissed, yanking your arm, but he didn't budge.

"Why do you let him get to you like this?" Wonwoo asked, his voice calm but cutting.

"He doesn't," you snapped, though even you didn't believe it.

Wonwoo's grip loosened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smirked. "You're such a bad liar."

Something about the way he said it—like he knew exactly which buttons to push—made you snap.

You shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble back a step. "Why do you care, huh? You don't even like me."

"You're right," he said, recovering quickly, his smirk widening. "I don't. But that doesn't mean I can't have fun messing with you."

"Oh, screw you—"

Before you could finish, he closed the gap between you, his hand cupping your jaw as he kissed you.

It wasn't gentle.

It was heated, rough, and full of the frustration you both seemed to carry whenever you were around each other.

You didn't even realize you'd kissed him back until your back hit the wall, his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair.

The kiss was deep, his tongue licking at your bottom lip, seeking for entrance to your mouth. Without even thinking to process things, your mouth responded almost too immediately while his tongue explored yours to a rhythm.

He kissed you good, and you can't even deny it right now. Your heart was beating fast—faster than you'd ever imagine. 

Make-out sessions like this was never a problem to you, but why are you feeling something different now? 

This damned man. 

And just like that, you were out of breath. With Wonwoo leaning his face closer as if he doesn't want you to get away just yet, you didn't mind. You were too into the kiss that you weren't even trying to pull away.

The kiss was messy, electric, and entirely unexpected.

"Wonwoo," you managed to gasp when he pulled back just enough to let you breathe. Your lips glossed with both of your salivas. 

"What?" he murmured, his voice low, his lips brushing yours. His eyes locked to yours then dropped to your swollen, plumped lips. He looked at you differently—at least now.

"This—" You shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. "This doesn't mean anything."

"Obviously," he said, smirking again. "But that didn't stop you, did it?"

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, silencing whatever protest you might've had.

Wonwoo pulled you into a nearby room—thank god it was even vacant. The whole time, he didn't even lean away from the kiss. He kissed you as if he was trying to swallow you whole. But then again, it was hot as hell.

"So fucking sweet," Wonwoo thought to himself as he carries you on the hips and places you on the nearby table. He stood in between your legs.

Screw it, you can't even think right now—not when his hands keep roaming around your hips. It sent a shiver to your spine. It's like his hands were touching you through your dress. Is that even possible?

The way your tongues swirled, entangling to each other was felt incredibly good. 

"So soft," he murmured in between the kiss. And he's doing it again. His head kept pushing towards you when you're not even trying to move away. 

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, while your legs found itself encircling his waist. You swore you can feel Wonwoo's smirk that always made you want to punch him in the guts for. But now, you find it attractive for once.

Feeling his bulge like this, you're soaked. Fuck, you're so wet it felt like you were pissing through your underwear. It's been like this since he placed you on the damned table.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo pulled away for you to catch your breath—partly to catch his breath. He stared at you, his eyes moving to your already swollen lips glistened with his saliva while you panted crazily.

"You're wet." Shit. He noticed? Yeah. He noticed

You couldn't reply. It's like the words got stuck in your throat. You wanted to retort. But it'll all be useless.

"...Fuck you." Really? That's the best you can say? You earned a smug scoff from Wonwoo that's for sure.

He just stared at you with a somehow teasing look on his face. But you were too embarrassed to even speak again. So why the fuck did you speak again. 

"H- help me..." You mumbled, eyes turning away and cheeks heating up.

Wonwoo's smirk widened, but he raised a brow, looking at you with innocence as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Help you with what, exactly?" He knew exactly where to push your buttons.

"Such a fucking tease," you muttered under your breath. He knew that. 

"I can't help you if I don't know what it is."

"F- Fuck me.. Wonwoo." Your words came out in a stumble. You went from fuck you to fuck me, that's a revolution.

Wonwoo chuckled, but then his gaze darkened. You couldn't quite point what is. A look of lust? Or is he teasing the fuck out of you again? "Come again?" 

"Wonwoo, please.." You sighed, head dropping to his shoulder with frustration. You're so wet you want to start touching yourself. It's like your pussy is on damn fire. 

But Wonwoo won't budge until you state exactly what you're asking for.

The heat of your body radiates his when his lips found your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin that sent electric waves through your body. That was your final test. 

Your hand moved under your dress and you started rubbing your wet clit through your underwear. 

Wonwoo leaned back just a little, looking down at you with a smirk on his lips. You swore you'd kick his balls after this.

Your fingers moved under your underwear and that's when you insert one finger in. You held back the moan, biting your lower lip.

"Shameless slut. That's hot," he says kneeling down as he looked up at you with the same gaze he had earlier. "Need help?"

"P-please..." You replied, tears rolling down your cheeks. You were so frustrated you can punch his damn handsome face right now. 

"You're really ruined." He unzips your dress from the back and removed it. Fuck he found your bra really cute. He spread your thighs open before he starts working on it, his lean fingers entering your slippery, glossed pussy. "What the fuck? It swallowed right in, babe." You couldn't tell if the pet name was to annoy you or what. Doesn't matter, cause your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The same fingers he used for typing on his keyboard were inside you right now. 

This shit feels too good to be true. 

"So wet for me, huh?" he started moving his fingers deeper. You were so wet that his finger slipped in your pussy almost too easily. 

Wonwoo reached that one spongy texture. "Fuckk.....!" You moaned out, panting crazily.

His fingers fucked your pussy so well with his thumb running circles on your clit, you squirted. He's moving his fingers in and out of you so fast that you almost reached the depths of heaven. 

You came. His hand soaked with your fluids. He pulled out his fingers and licked it. "So pretty seeing you like this. You're sweet, Kitsunya."

Before you can even get back from pleasure, his head was in between your thighs, already licking your pussy clean. And he received a harmonious moans out of you. He loved the sounds you made. He can listen to it all day.

Then his tongue entered your pussy. 

"Wonnie... S- so good.. Don't stop." You panted, the sudden nickname making him throbbing hard below. While your fingers entangling through his soft locks, pulling his head so he could reach deeper. And then you came again, on his face, moaning like crazy.

He licked all your fluids before pulling away, licking his lips as he stood up again to look down at you.

"You taste so fucking sweet." He held your chin—making you look up at him as he captures your lips again, tasting yourself. 

Wonwoo was devouring you at this point. His tongue working in your mouth. While his hand went to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, and the other already unclipping your bra.

Then he carried you onto the bed, dropping you on the mattress without pulling away. He started taking his hoodie off while you messily unzips his pants. He helped you pull it down. 

He was fucking huge. You knew it already when you felt his bulge earlier, but didn't imagine a length like this.

He pulled away, his cock throbbing with pre-cum. You stared at him, panting, cheeks fucking red.

"Safe word?" He asked, his hands massaging your breasts. You forgot to think for a moment.

"Fox." You replied and he smirked. 

With that settled, he spread your legs open—leaning in between your things. His fingers prepping your pussy.

Once wide enough, his tip was placed on the entrance of your pussy, rubbing your clit. he was leaking already.

"F- fuck me rough, Wonwoo." You said, begging like you never usually do. 

And that was his last straw. He slammed his cock but entered you slowly, your moans filling the room. "So fucking tight, the hell?" 

"Y- you're too fucking big," you muffled, tears of pleasure running down at the stretch.

He pulled his cock and slammed it in you again, this time, it felt good it already reached your g-spot. He was huge.

After a few slow thrusts, Wonwoo felt you adjusting to the stretch, and that's when he started roughly fucking your pussy. You held onto him for your dear life, moaning loudly this time. 

"Your pussy is swallowing me so fucking well." He muttered, grunting when he felt your walls clenching around his cock. "Don't fucking cum until I say so."

He took it out before you can even come. You cried. 

Then just like that, he slammed his cock in you again—hardly that the sounds of your skin slapping to each other filled the room. 

He thrusted in and out so fast you were begging to cum with tears running down your cheeks at the frustration. 

"Wonwoo, please..!" You moaned out, head going back as your fingers dug onto the flesh of his shoulder. 

Wonwoo didn't stop entering you fastly, his hips moving crazily fast, his cock reaching your g-spot. "Don't fucking.." he grunted out. "..cum yet."

You squirted. You were sobbing, not because it hurt, but because it felt too good yet frustrating at the same time.

But the way he's ramming into your pussy was enough to cloud all the frustrations away. 

He shut you up when he captured your lips—tongue kissing you too well. He felt your walls clenching around him again. "Cum all over me, baby." 

"I'm cumming!" White fluids almost pushing his dick off. And not long after, he took out his cock and his hot load went all over your stomach. You were panting crazily, covering your face with your hands.

Wonwoo patted your head. He didn't call you names anymore either.

Being called "slut" never made sense to you. He didn't repeat it either.

You went in the shower first, your vagina and legs were so  sore you felt numb. And when you finally went out—the room smelled like sex and his faint cologne. You didn't look at him until he threw your dress to your face.

You glared at him, covering your body with the towel you were holding as Wonwoo enters the bathroom next.

In the bathroom, Wonwoo was still hard. He just couldn't help it. When you came out of the shower smelling good as fuck, shit... You were even prettier without make-up on. Thinking of it makes him want to fuck you again.

But now, he just had to settle back. This was nothing. And yet he's fucking his hand at the thought of you.

When Wonwoo emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he looked entirely different. The stark simplicity of his black t-shirt and sweatpants did nothing to diminish how effortlessly good he looked. 

His glasses caught the faint light of the room as he fixed them, his expression unreadable as he walked toward the bed and sat at its edge, towel slung lazily over his shoulder.

"Jerk," you muttered under your breath—though not quite loud enough for it to sound like a challenge.

He arched an eyebrow at you, but said nothing. The silence stretched, the air between you heavy.

He looks hot. 

The thought crept in uninvited, but you shoved it down quickly, pretending to fiddle with the zipper at the back of your dress.

It wasn't cooperating.

Wonwoo noticed. He stood silently, his presence looming behind you. Without a word, he reached for the zipper, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled it up smoothly. 

You caught his reflection in the mirror—the sharp lines of his face, the faint furrow of his brows, and the way his eyes lingered, just for a moment, before he let go.

"You didn't have to," you mumbled, your gaze dropping to the floor.

"I know," he replied simply, stepping back. His tone was devoid of sarcasm, yet it felt loaded with unspoken meaning.

He handed you an oversized jacket without waiting for you to ask. "Here."

You took it wordlessly, slipping one arm in, then the other, the fabric engulfing you like a shield. As you turned back to the mirror, fixing your makeup and on  attempting to dry your hair as quick as you can, you felt his eyes on you.

Your gaze flickered up to the mirror, catching him already staring.

He didn't look away.

Your cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, and you quickly broke eye contact, muttering something incoherent as you turned toward the door.

"Wait," Wonwoo said, his voice low, stopping you in your tracks.

You barely had time to react before he closed the distance between you, his hands bracing lightly on either side of the doorframe, trapping you.

"What?" you asked, your voice wavering more than you'd like.

He didn't answer right away. His gaze flickered over your face—your swollen lips, the faint color in your cheeks, the way your breath hitched as he leaned closer.

"Nothing," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Just wanted to see if you'd leave without saying goodbye."

"I should've," you shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice betrayed you.

"Maybe."

And then he kissed you again.

This time, it was slower, deliberate, as though he was testing just how far he could push you. His hands slid to your waist, tugging you closer, and you melted against him despite every voice in your head screaming at you to stop.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, lips tangled, the world outside fading into irrelevance. 

The kiss involved your tongues again, your head hitting the door behind you—while Wonwoo was pushing his head closer to you again. 

But eventually, reality crept back in.

"I—" you started, putting hands on his chest to push him slightly away just enough to catch your breath.

"Yeah," Wonwoo said, his voice equally quiet, though his smirk lingered.

You didn't bother finishing your sentence. Instead, you slipped out of the room, your heart pounding and your mind racing. 

The oversized jacket he'd given you hung loosely over your dress, a silent reminder of whatever had just happened.

The noise of the party hit you like a wall, jolting you back to your surroundings. You avoided eye contact with anyone as you wove through the crowd, heading for the kitchen in search of water—or an excuse to keep yourself busy.

But then you felt it.

A pair of eyes.

When you glanced up, there he was.

Jeonghan.

He stood near the bar, leaning casually against the counter, a drink in hand. His expression was unreadable, but the slight tilt of his head and the glint in his eyes told you he'd noticed something was different.

Your lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked in the opposite direction, your pulse racing.

Wonwoo stayed behind, leaning lazily against the doorframe. His hair was still damp, his smirk a little too self-satisfied.

He watched the closed door for a moment longer before turning back toward the bed, dropping the towel onto the chair in the corner.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he checked the time.

A message popped up from Seungkwan in his DM.

Seungkwan: Bro, where tf are you? Jeonghan keeps asking about Kitsunya. Says she's acting weird. Did y'all fight or smth?

Wonwoo stared at the message, his smirk fading into something more contemplative.

"No," he murmured to himself, tossing his phone onto the same bed you two had sex on. "We didn't fight."

The party could wait. For now, he needed a moment to think—or to figure out why he'd let himself care.

You had barely taken a sip of water when a voice interrupted your solitude.

"Long night?"

You froze, clutching the glass tighter. Turning slowly, you met Jeonghan's gaze. He stood a few feet away, his usual confident demeanor wrapped around him like a second skin.

"What do you want?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He stepped closer, his expression soft but his eyes sharp. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"I don't follow."

Jeonghan tilted his head, studying you. "You're wearing someone else's jacket."

Your stomach dropped. "So?"

"So," he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile, "it's not like you to borrow things. Especially not from... whoever it is you've been sneaking around with tonight."

Your cheeks burned. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Jeonghan's tone was light, teasing, but his gaze pinned you in place. "You've been avoiding me all night. And now you're practically running from the room. It's not hard to connect the dots."

"Drop it, Jeonghan," you snapped, your voice low.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, stepping closer, he leaned down slightly so his face was level with yours.

"I will," he said softly, "when you stop looking like you've just been caught."

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he straightened and walked away, leaving you alone with the weight of his words.

Back in the room, Wonwoo debated rejoining the party. The chaos didn't appeal to him, but the lingering hum of your presence in the space did.

He'd kissed you twice.

Three times, if he counted the one that had blurred into more than just kissing.

And now, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

When he finally pushed himself off the bed and headed back into the main area, the atmosphere was heavier than before.

The music was loud, but the tension in the room was louder.

He spotted you almost immediately, standing near the kitchen entrance talking with Woozi. Jeonghan was a few feet away, talking to someone else, but his attention kept flicking to you.

Wonwoo's jaw tightened.

Woozi excused himself by patting you on the head. "I'll be over there with Hoshi if you ever need me."

And you hummed, nodding as he walked away.

"Having fun?"

Your eyes snapped to his, wide with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a party," he said dryly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What do you think?"

You glared at him, but before you could retort, Jeonghan appeared.

"Wonwoo," Jeonghan said smoothly, his smile as sharp as ever. "Didn't expect to see you hanging around here."

Wonwoo shrugged, his gaze steady. "Didn't expect to see you keeping tabs."

Jeonghan's smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Just looking out for my friends."

The unspoken implication hung in the air, and you felt yourself shrinking under the weight of it.

"Sure you are," Wonwoo said, his tone light but his posture tense.

You couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to get some air," you muttered, brushing past them before either could stop you.

The cool night air hit you like a slap, cutting through the heat that had built up inside.

You leaned against the railing, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Running away again?"

You turned to find Wonwoo behind you, his hands in his pockets and his expression unreadable.

He's been around you since the night had started.

"Don't you have better things to do?" you asked, your voice sharp.

"Probably," he said, stepping closer. "But this seemed more interesting."

You sighed, turning back to the view. "What do you want, Wonwoo?"

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. "You tell me."

You frowned, glancing at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, his voice soft but firm, "you've been acting like I'm the problem when you're the one running circles around yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, stepping closer. "You're mad at Jeonghan, mad at me, and probably mad at yourself. But you're not doing anything about it. You're just... stuck."

His words hit a little too close to home, and you hated how right he sounded.

"So what?" you snapped. "What do you want me to do? Forget everything and pretend like it doesn't matter?"

"Maybe," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Or maybe just stop pretending you don't want something different." 

Your breath caught as he closed the distance between you.

How can he see right through you? it was unfair.

"Wonwoo—"

He kissed you again, cutting off whatever you were about to say. This kiss wasn't rough or teasing—it was deliberate, almost careful, like he was testing a boundary he wasn't sure he was allowed to cross.

You didn't even try to pull away. Allowing him like you both were a couple or something. 

This wasn't even anything to begin with. And that's exactly the problem.

His hand went to the back of your head, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with delicate kisses. 

You were kissing him back, deepening the kiss.

He tilted your head a little to the side to get a better angle of the kiss, while your hands hesitated if you should wrap it around him or not. 

Screw that, you did anyways. Something felt different. The same feeling hit you like a truck.

Maybe it's because you were in the public, making out with the same man for the past few hours. It was electric—the way he kissed you.

When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours.

"You can keep running," he said quietly. "But I'm not going to chase you."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone under the stars.

He kept saying that, then why is he always around you? You sighed. 

This was an unknown feeling you never had when you were around him or his circle

When you returned to the party, Jeonghan was waiting.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze too sharp to be casual.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

He stepped closer, his smile softening. "You know, if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks," you said quietly, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice.

But as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, you couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen more than he was letting on.

And if he had, what would he do about it?

a/n: writing 10,000+ words every other day is not as easy as i thought. i feel stupid for even thinking that. balancing school, work, and life is exhausting tbh. BUT i hope i can make it up by updating a chapter ! might take me a while to write a new one but i swear i wont leave this work unfinished. (its exam week so yeah i've been really busy)

i will be posting (if i can by this week) the req actor jeonghan x actor reader i swear it'll be worth it. im battling writers block and due homeworks with my sucked up job.

if you want to be added to the taglist, reblog / comment on this post / teaser / part-time lover masterlist and you'll automatically be tagged on every chapter.

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere (thankyou for reblogging !)

[quirekey]

Hi can I request for B-127 and femme s/o who have a same vibes of Jessica and Roger Rabbit.

This is a cute one, especially with the vibes!!

[ BUMBLEBEE ] x [ FEM!READER ]

[ bumblebee x cybertronian!female!reader ]

[ based on TFONE after Megatron leaves ]

- The dynamic is almost immediate you can point out when you look at the two of you. You are a tall, muscular looking femme. You definitely look fit for a mech more than a femme. Then you got Bumblebee, a somewhat chubby looking mech that is purely round. It looked like a girlboss x twink type of dynamic!

- Bumblebee definitely loves being touched, cuddled and carried by you! You are one hella strong femme and he adores that so much. He makes it obvious that he wants you to give him so much love. He always brings his arms up and opens and closes his hand, indicating that he wants what he calls ‘uppies’.

- Bumblebee is capable of being independent, like, very. He is a part of the government so of course he can be independent, he just likes being helpless! Acting like he always needs to be saved by you when something happens. It may get annoying but it is definitely cute.

- You are the type of person to wax and wash very often. You love your looks, how deceivingly good you looked compared to others femmes. You weren’t the type of person to be complimenting yourself but you do enjoy your self-appreciation, Bumblebee only helps more. He showers you with compliments and speeches on how cool you are. He’s always affirming your actions and is always by your side, even if it is your fault.

- Bumblebee can be pretty whiny when you don’t give him what you want. You usually tend to spoil him quite a bit, but it does get tiring at times. Sometimes you may go out too much and recharge for too long and Bumblebee will start crying and whining, wanting you to pay attention. It’s adorable so you just have to give in.

- When you do give in, he becomes extremely lovesick and flustered when you start hugging and complimenting him. You do adore him and Bumblebee can’t help but love you; worship you with his spark.

- You prefer to give him many small kisses all over his face-plate, thank Primus you cybertronians don’t wear lipstick or it would be messy! Bumblebee gets extremely flustered and would giggle, but mostly also be embarrassed.

- PDA? YES! Bumblebee really loves to show you off like you are the matrix of leadership. He would go around, force you to carry him bridal style and go around Cybertron. He’d stick his tongue out because they don’t get to have you, bragging all about how cool you really are. You are definitely hesitant but oblige.

- When you guys go on dates, Bumblebee is usually the one to set it up. He would try his hardest to make the date look fancy, romantic and special just for the both of you. The date usually ends up turning into a fun time to rant to each other, listening to fun music and playing around. You both never took dates or romance too seriously, it was just the thought and time you guys gave each other that really mattered between the two of you.

- You are definitely a slow romantic and Bumblebee is a fast romantic! You wanna take things slow, experience everything and realise that every single action and word you guys say to each other goes down so deep that it plants just a small piece of affection and love in both of your sparks. Bumblebee just wants to take things fast and go immediately to the fun and lovey dovey stuff! Though you both have different opinions, you both are somehow able to adjust, you guys are so silly :3

[bluebnny]

Can u make a luffy x reader smut friend with benefits?

monkey d luffy x reader

contents: luffy fucking you in the storage room at your work :) – reader has a vagina, but gender is not specified

warnings: smut, P in V sex, maybe slight voyeurism?, MDNI

a/n: yes, anon, yes i can :) thank you for the request! I didn’t make reader a pirate, as i always find that dynamic to be a little more interesting. Also, sorry if you wanted me to get more into the "friends with benefits" aspect of it. This is more focused on the smut than their specific relationship. Anyway, hope you like it! <3

(Dividers made by me)

word count: 1.020

Luffy is the same in every area of his life: messy, spontaneous, and carefree. But he is also the most enthusiastic person you know, burning with an intense passion that shines through in everything he does.

Even if that “thing” is you.

“Ahh- fuck. Luffy, more, please…” Here you are, in the storage room of the bar you work at, with your face pressed up against the wall. You’re doing your very best to keep your moans under control, trying to end the night with both your job and dignity intact. But he is not making it easy.

“Sure you can handle more?” Even when he’s breathless and panting, he somehow manages to joke around, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning.

Luffy snaps his hips roughly into yours, mesmerized by the way your ass and thighs shake with every harsh thrust. He’s impossibly deep now, using so much force that his hips still for half a second before pulling back again. You feel him pressing himself all the way inside, and the way it hurts so deliciously has your eyes rolling back in your head.

He goes on for what feels like forever and at the same time not long enough to your dizzy mind. All you know for sure is the pleasure building inside you, making you let out a string of whines and whimpers at the intensity of it.

He’s ramming himself into you from behind, keeping a steady pace. One hand is on the back of your head, the other on your hip to keep you from squirming away, his feet firmly planted on the ground.

You’re a whole different story. Hair messy and mouth half open, you’re barely able to contain your whimpers of pleasure. You have a hand on the wall, trying – and failing – to steady yourself, as your shaky legs are not helping much at the moment. Your other hand is placed on Luffy’s abs, whether to make him slow down from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, or to ask for more, you couldn’t even say yourself. All you know is that you’ve been craving this ever since you heard this morning that the straw hats had docked at your town again.

You and Luffy had met not too long ago but quickly considered yourselves friends. However, it didn’t stay like that for very long, as your friendship had swiftly evolved into something a little… more.

It had happened on a drunken night a few months back. Luffy and the straw hats had visited your island for a quick stop to restock and have some fun on land, going to your bar for a few drinks to catch up with you. You had joined them, seeing as you were off work that night. One thing had led to another, and you had found yourself under him on his ship, just about coherent enough to pant and moan out as the breath was repeatedly being knocked out of you by none other than the captain himself.

Ever since that night, you were addicted.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tightly.” He groans into the back of your head, bending over a little from the delicious feeling.

You honestly couldn’t tell anymore from how blissed out you are, no longer in control of your body. Retaining just enough sense to be aware that your boss is tending the bar on the other side of the door, and remembering that you were trying not to be too loud.

But Luffy gives a particularly hard thrust that has you gasping out despite your best efforts. You’re beyond grateful for the deafening music playing throughout the establishment. Without it, you’re sure everyone would hear exactly what you two are up to.

“Careful, or everyone out there will hear you.” He teases.

“I- I can’t.” You breathe out. How the hell are you supposed to keep any sense of control when he’s making you feel this good? But the mortifying thought of someone catching you like this sends a shiver down your spine and you clench down harder around him.

“Fuck, you like that?” He’s chuckling, but it’s coming out a little choppy from his rapid movements.

“Luffy… I’m close. Ah!” You let out another squeak when his hand moves from your head down to your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles that have you breaking on the spot.

Your mind is reeling from the orgasm crashing through you, your entire body shaking and convulsing from the intensity. Both your hands are now planted against the wall from the effort of holding yourself up.

Your pussy is helplessly spasming around his thick cock, which Luffy is still slamming into you. But you can tell he must be close from how desperate his thrusts are getting. It doesn’t take much before he’s cumming too. With a groan, he releases into you in thick spurts, his pace slowing down for the first time.

You both start to come down from the intense sensation, and you feel like you might actually fall now. Your legs start shaking even more violently as the tension leaves your body. But just as you’re about to collapse, you feel Luffy’s steadying grip around your middle, and he helps you sit on a spare chair in the corner of the room.

“You alright?” He asks you after a moment, his mind clearly still reeling from everything.

“Yeah. Just got to regain my breath.” How the hell was he already so energetic again? You feel like you’ve just run a marathon. At least your legs do.

“Yeah… fuck that was hot!” Is all he says, and when you look up to se his characteristic smile back on his face, you can’t help but mirror it.

“It was. Alright I’m good now I think.” You search for your pants which are somewhere on the floor of the storage, meanwhile hoping that your hair doesn’t look too much of a mess as you don’t have a mirror to check. But judging by how Luffy looks, your hopes are not too high.

Thanks for reading! And thank you so much for the request! Also uhhh this one doesn't have a title. It's midnight here and i am in no state to think of a good one lol.

(This is my fic, don't repost or use in any AI training programmes! Reblogs are always appreciated <3) Here are my rules, and my masterlist.

[sewinrat]

What if the reader is Randal's twin sister that is always calm and quiet but yet more intimidating than the rest of the ivory household and is always abusing or scaring Sebastian?

It's just something I made up in my head! 😭

Only if you have the chance to do so, of course!

Hey I know I disappeared but I'm going to break my own rule to give you all content

*Reader implied to be female. Also this will not be a fic, just those headcanons thingy

Being Randal's More Intimidating Twin Sister;

Goodness, Randal would never have a boring day if he decides to watch your torture sessions daily

He definitely doesn't like how quiet you are but Nyen and Nyon are the same and he doesn't have a not-fun day watching them so he lets it be. But he's definitely forcing you everywhere with him. You are his twin after all and two is better than one as the humans say!

Clothing wise I'd say a Japanese school girl outfit with blazer and wearing gloves to match Randal's outfit. Honestly it doesn't matter what you want to wear as long as the colour is inverted of Randal's. White outfit and black gloves. You wear glasses but most often contact lenses. The feeling of them intrigued you but glasses are also usually a hindrance in your day to day activities.

The day when Luther gifted the both of you a human pet, you are ecstatic. Your face doesn't show but Randal knows and he's ecstatic as electric as well. Both of you have the dynamic of Maud and Pinkie that's why he can tell. The day after that is the day Sebastian the human pet learns true fear.

You are unnerving and rightfully so. Especially when you keep chasing after him with those garden shears. If Randal has scissors, you have bigger scissors. You like to snip snip Sebastian's body parts. Hair, legs, hand, you get the point. You won't necessarily kill him on purpose, only by accident but Luther will stop you when Sebastian's at the brink of death. Which he wished for more than escaping after weeks upon weeks of torture. Too bad Randal is enjoying this too much which encourages your behaviour.

More often than not, Luther had to tell you to clean up your mess after you finish your fun activity. He doesn't encourage it but he doesn't stop you as well because in his words, who is he to stop his little sister discovering her hobbies and enjoying them.

Two peas in a pod the both of you. It doesn't matter how different you both are, you're still twins. If anyone knows anything about twins, is that somehow they have a deeper bond than with anyone else around them. If you mess with one of them, you have to deal with the other or together if you wanna get messy.

Nyen won't say it out loud obviously but he much prefers you over Randal if we're talking about violence and perfect fit to be the next heir if it ever comes to that. I mean obviously because we're speaking the American cat here. If he's 'lucky', you might spar him one on one. Nyon on the other hand definitely avoids you like the plague. Not a fighter and definitely does not want to be your next experiment but too bad for him, you're still above him in ranks.

Satoru won't favour you more than Randal but he'll definitely ask for your help to make him 'real' to which you happily complied. Remember that spider girl in Vol.2 and Avalona Mercury? Yeah they're your besties. Don't ask how but they just naturally are. Unless you're someone who seeks to pursue a relationship with one of them which I guess go off. No one really cares.

Known as well as the ratmen's worst nightmare. They wish to never come across you ever or else they're better off as a taxidermy head on top of a fireplace. Even if there's a slight chance they'll be let off uninjured, there's a high chance they'll end up getting owned or dead.

Wednesday Addams kinnie I just realised but hey maybe that's what you wanted.

Randal would definitely dragged you into his own mess by making you dress up as him and take the blame. Sometimes you let him do whatever he wants, other times he ends up bloodied.

Ranfren Characters thoughts on You(ooc);

Randal: "You've met my twin?! Oo! Oo! How are they?! Did you have fun with her?! She's really fun to play with especially with those shears of hers!" Excited to rant about his twin. Get comfortable or not because he can go on and on and on.

Luther: "Ah yes. She's quite a delight isn't she? I just wish she wouldn't leave such a bloody mess everywhere and anywhere she wants but oh well~ I can't stop her from enjoying what she loves doing." Dismissive yet acknowledged. Just don't get blood on the new carpet or curtains and you're good like you're avoiding angering your mother too much but brother instead.

Nyen: "Would love to fight against once. With her next in line, everything will definitely turn for the worst but it'll be very fun." Nothing else to say except he gives more respects to you than to Randal but won't admit it.

Nyon: Like I said, avoids you like the plague. It got to the point where he can't come up with an opinion on you because his mind goes automatically to 'avoid her alert'. That's not to say he hates you, he could never hate his master's family, he just rather not be under your torture sessions.

Sebastian: "Please don't tell me she's behind me." Shivering scared little thing. He likes his limbs to be intact 24/7 of course so even by the mention of you have his thoughts rapidly flashed the flight or fight instinct. But it's only flight no fight. He's not that bold.

Bonus! Tsukada Satoru: "Randal's twin is nice. She helps me when I needed her most especially when it comes to hurting. Glad to see her interacting well with those two." He's too much focused on Randal to care but since you're Randal's other half, his literal twin, he has to care enough about you.

[friendlylifecherry]

One of my favorite universes to make up is a mild crossover between League canon and Arcane canon where Jayce and Viktor are cousins with their League counterparts, with the League versions being older.

Not only because the Arcane and League versions are very different and it's really fun to make different stories and dynamics with them all, but because of 2 things

1) Making comparisons and contrasts with the Jayces and Viktors, like how they relate with the family dynamics (like how cousins with the same name absolutely need different nicknames to be told apart or how they look somehow completely different but the same man in different fonts)

2) How Vikjayce somehow ends up being less catastrophically messy by comparison to Jayvik, despite the much worse starting point as the only people who can stand the other's ego

[imaginariumwanderer]

I'm probably biased in my negative view but....People who arrived for the ship after ep 7 just seem to be really allergic to the messy and 'unpleasant' (to them) parts of the ship, to the point where implementing the canonical unhealthy parts of the relationship makes the audience raise eyebrows and wonder where it came from (FROM CANON !!! IT CAME FROM CANON, WHAT DO YOU MEAN-). Unless you follow specific people who still remember the intricacies of the ship + how many layers this dynamic has, sdvn became an amalgamation of many popular mlm ships that are just people wishing to project what they like onto them; a sad sight

Ughhhhhhhhh I rlly don't want to complain since at the end of the day it's just fans having fun n doing what fandom is for, expanding on canon while adding their own flair into it. BUT buttt it get to a point..... Nowadays whenever I *do* look, I can barely find content that touched on half the complexity that make this ship so good in the first place. Don't get me wrong I love wholesome content of my ship as much as the next guy, I love fluff as much as angst!

About what you say about fans being allergic to the messy parts of the ship, I've seen some/ have talked to oomfies who complains about fans babying smilk n making vani more aggressive than he should be, up until the point where all their character traits have been switched. The majority are jokes like "haha what if pv is a mean fucker?" "what if smilk is a pathetic weak widdle baby?" but it has gotten so widespread that peps actually are treating it as their canon personalities. I'm guessing this is due to an attempt to make the ship "healthier"? It doesn't work for me, it just goes full circle but with the roles reversed. Till this day the majority of the fandom still believe truthless recluse is "evil" vanilla, even though he's just understandably withdraw n depressed after what he went through. I used to yell about this a lot in DMs and now I'll say this in public too RECLUSE IS A VICTIM trying to make him "equal" to smilk somehow is ignoring a large part of his character and I'll stand by that. #justiceforrecluse

"Sdvn became an amalgamation of many popular mlm ships that are just people wishing to project what they like onto them" yeahhh yeah, yup, again I know people are just having fun, I will never stop anyone from enjoying themselves. As someone who have shipped them since ep 2 I'm quite passionate about shadowvanilla you see... Both shadow milk+pure vanilla are such amazingly written characters, their dynamic is so important to me. I'm not pointing fingers but with the way some shippers treat these two... I wonder if they only like the shell of the characters and the content inside doesn't matter.

[ladyshinga]

Some people enjoy shipping characters because they seek to somehow "elevate" another type of relationship to something romantic, in a sense of them seeing it as "better", like advancing up a ladder.

But not me, buddy. I aggressively romantically and sexually ship characters NOT to elevate romance conceptually but to drag it back down to the earth with the rest of human connection where it should be. I want to equalize romance, explore sex, see the varying different ways it can look and feel much like how every enemy dynamic is different, every friend dynamic is different.

I think romance and sex being AUTOMATICALLY elevated on a social level has us separating it by habit from EVERY other type of human connection and nah, not me. I want romance to be just as messy and confusing and muddy and nuanced as everything else gets to be. No "one true love" bullshit, soulmates should (romantic or platonic) be a thing that can be MADE and not just automatic from birth or by some cosmic or even religious design, I don't want purity being fussed over from the second two people kiss, folks get SO INCREDIBLY upset over doing romance "right" while being way more comfortable exploring family dynamics, friendship, even enemies... meanwhile I just want two people who already have a nuanced fun dynamic (or the potential of one) and throw in romantic feelings and/or sex like I'm flavoring an already delicious stew. I'm here for two or more people and how THEY connect and interact and make each other better and/or worse in a variety of ways and if they do that through bonin' down then BY GOD I'm into it

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Omega Spider

Yep. It is actually about Peter Parker Spider-Man. He was mutated by a a spider bite one thing I noticed about every version of the spider I have seen is that it always depicted with really round abdomen and no pedipalps. In other words a female spider.

So imagine Peter from a world that is not omegaverse and the spider bite mutation turns him into an omega. He has no idea he is an omega until he is sent to another universe where the dynamics are commonplace.

So for the omegaverse instincts and things. I don’t like the ones where they loose all sense of self control in heat and it wouldn’t work for Peter anyway. I think it really shouldn’t be worse then a period with a bit of a low fever. Though with him being part spider he has a slight urge to eat a mate but is able to brush it off as an intrusive thought.

As for his age when thrown into this other universe he is Still a teen. My favorite version of him is from the 2003 cartoon series Spectacular Spider-Man. That series ended while he was still 15. Basically have him young enough to be adoption bait. The portal is a one way trip and just to be more dramatic he will be devastated that he finds out he can't return.

Teen teams don’t get enough attention. So we will have him end up with the team titans. I riled some dice and here is what dynamic each titan got. Robin is an alpha. Starfire is an alien whose species doesn’t have dynamics and will be as confused as Peter. Cyborgs was an alpha but sort of lost his dynamic when most of his body was turned mechanical. Raven is a beta, and I swear the dice were rigged cause somehow Beast Boy is an alpha too. (Funny thing to add in. Beast boy absolutely would know how female and in Peter’s case omega spiders eat their mates. We can have him make a point to never turn into a spider around Peter.) as for dynamic social aspects I think we have it so that omegas are a bit more coddled but not outright oppressed in society. That way we have an internal conflict for Peter to get frustration with cause he would arguably be the heaviest or second heaviest hitter on the team. Something the team takes a few episodes/chapters/parts to work out and move past. Then later they have all gotten used to Spidey being tough and independent but the public criticizes the team for when someone finds out and blabs on TV.

Now then for team relationships. I still am a Robin Starfire shipper, and Raven x Beast boy I don’t get but am ok with. Terra is a dumpster fire that can be addressed way later. Cyborg I think is fine just being the reliable friend but a tumblr friend liked him shipped with Jinx. Though I think he has science nerd out fun with Peter. Though cyborg is more computer and machines nerd and Peter is more chemistry and biology nerd.

What about Peter taking the role of team medic? Since biology and chemistry are his strengths. Every team needs a healer (and I get to use the exasperated medic trope I love.) goodness because of the way he was raised and close to his aunt May Peter may end up being the designated “mom” friend. Since I can see him not letting things get too messy and he would miss the home cooked meals so much he would probably teach himself to cook. And he had the most stable childhood hood and probably the most sensible advice. Also he made his suit so it is cannon he can sew very well.

Would Peter have a ship? Cause there are a couple other teen heroes or villains. …. Wait! You know the theory that Dick was Red X the first time but that suit was stolen and it isn’t said who but a lot of fans think it was Jason…. What if we make Red X more of a recurring character, but in this AU Jason didn’t get adopted by Bruce and is more of a neutral rogue as Red X.

Anyway now that the world building basics are out of the way, Let’s start the story. We shall drop Spidey in right at the start of the titans cartoon when they all kind of meet because of Starfire’s escape pod landing on earth. And I mean literally drop him in. The portal opened up like 300 feet in the air above the city.

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] With Every Nerve Alive

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4623 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, brief appearance by Matthew, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, detailed sexual fantasies, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, questionable lube choices, within a fantasy don't worry, no one's really getting fingered with engine grease, sugar daddy-sugar baby fantasies, glass sex toys

Notes: Prequel/bookend to Customer Service. I realized that Hot Mechanic Hob needed Dream's pov to get the full effect, so this happened. Also fills my @dreamlingbingo square C1, 'Sugar Baby', a couple thousand words in. Title taken from Turbo Lover by Judas Priest

Summary: Dream Atelíotes is merely seeking car repairs from a reputable shop; he was not expecting to get punched in the libido by the most beautiful mechanic he could have imagined.

On AO3

~ "Alright, and what're we lookin' at her for?"

"The clutch. Is not operating as expected; I fear I may have damaged it. Somehow."

Dream is grateful that the stout American behind the counter at Matthew's Motor Repairs does not pass any obvious judgement on this damning statement.

"Well, that definitely needs checking, then," he says instead, punching in notes on his computer terminal. "Hob'll be runnin' things for the next couple of weeks, lemme see when he can fit your girl in." He turns toward the half-open door that leads to the garage and yells.

"Hey Hob!"

"Yeah! Just a tic—"

"He'll definitely be able to find the problem and fix you up," the American is saying, but Dream pays him little mind, thinking ahead to schedules and obligations; the Porsche is not his primary means of transportation regardless. It had been a gift from Alex that he'd kept after the breakup, primarily out of spite. He will say, when asked, that he drives it for fun, but truthfully the manual transmission does not come easily to him and the car suffers for it. He is considering selling it, perhaps once the satisfaction of knowing how Alex seethes to see him with it has worn down—

"What's up?"

Dream spares a glance for the man who's just entered through the doorway to the garage, and promptly loses his breath.

—Exquisite—

The man is beautiful, average height and slim sturdy build, dressed in grimy coveralls that are split just enough at the zip to glimpse the collar of a plain white tee beneath. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead and when he wipes at it, still with a wrench in hand, he leaves a faint smudge of black grease behind. His hair is dark, longish, tied up in a messy bun on the back of his head with wisps straying loose about his face attractively. His eyes and his smile are warm, strong nose and chin, a few days' worth of beard growth giving him a wonderfully soft-rugged cast that sets Dream's mouth to watering.

The coverall sleeves are rolled and twisted up to his elbows; the forearms exposed are liberally covered with dark hair, skin a warm sunkissed golden brown beneath, shapely and corded with the strength that comes of manual labor, of hefting tires and torquing wrenches. Dream considers, quite despite himself, how those hands might fit around his waist, his hips; how easily this man might lift or manhandle him about in bed, and the heat that has risen in his loins stirs approvingly.

"Mr. Atelíotes here's got clutch troubles with his Porsche," the American is saying. "Think you'll have time to check it out?"

"Not right away, I'm afraid. How soon would you be needing her back?" the mechanic asks, directly to Dream, and oh, the full focus of that gaze is divine.

"I am in no hurry," he manages to reply, voice only marginally dipping down toward sultry. He is here to see about car repairs, not to flirt with the hot mechanic in front of an audience. He is an adult. He is well-versed in exercising all manner of self control.

The mechanic smiles, like a ray of sunshine, and Dream's self-control is tested.

"Okay then, I can probably get you looked at and fixed up toward the end of next week, if that works for you? Thursday or Friday, let's say." He slips the wrench that he's still holding into a pocket on his coveralls, drawing Dream's attention to the lower half of his body, how the zipper on the coveralls goes all the way down underneath, and he firmly corrals and muzzles the thoughts that arise. Later. Let him finish his business here before he embarrasses himself.

"Next week is just fine," he agrees.

"Excellent," the mechanic says, beaming brightly, and Dream's mouth goes dry.

He is so unfairly beautiful.

The mechanic is talking now to the American who is entering Dream's work order and Dream drinks in the sight of him greedily, committing every detail to memory—the brush of silver at his temples, the crows' feet blooming at the corners of his eyes with every smile, the dimple in his chin just visible as a darkening of the scruff that adorns his jaw so beautifully. His arm flexes prettily as he points to the screen with a black-stained fingertip and his voice is strong yet soft and warm like honey; Dream sneaks a glance at his backside when he turns to the printer and finds the suggestion of shapeliness beneath the loose fit of the coveralls. Dream imagines, helplessly, buttocks and strong thighs covered in hair to match those exposed forearms, and barely stifles a whimper.

This man is absolutely exquisite, and Dream wants him.

Badly.

"Alright, Mr. Atelíotes, let me get your signature here," the mechanic says cheerfully, oblivious to the tempest he has stirred within Dream as he hands him the printed work order and a pen.

Dream makes certain that their fingers brush as he takes it, noting the smudge of fingerprints left on the paper by the other.

He glances at the mechanic's name on the form as he signs. Hob Gadling. He tucks the name safely into the vault of his mind, hoarding it for later use.

"Give me a call on Thursday next week, we'll see where we're at," Hob Gadling is saying, handing him a business card and leaving another grey-black thumbprint on the corner of the white cardstock. Dream immediately thinks of such fingerprints against the pristine paleness of his own skin and swallows thickly.

"Thursday," he repeats. "I will call then, thank you." It is Monday, currently; a week and a half is quite reasonable for routine car repairs in a reputable shop, he is given to understand, and Matthew's Motor Repairs is consistently rated with four and five stars online. He is confident that he has chosen well, especially when Hob Gadling smiles brightly while bidding him good day.

It is a good day indeed, for having met such a stunningly beautiful man.

~

He takes a cab home to Kensington, trying very hard to put his thoughts in order and focus on the week ahead, on his business meetings and the client proposal he's expecting on Friday. But his mind is full of brown eyes and warm smiles, hairy forearms and grease-stained hands, and his entire body finds these thoughts far more appealing than those of his day-to-day mundanities.

Hob Gadling lingers in his mind persistently, a siren call warming his blood and distracting him at the slightest provocation. Late afternoon finds him abandoning his office and retreating to his rooms, surrendering to the thoughts that have plagued him since his visit to Matthew's Motor Repairs this morning.

Hob Gadling—

He imagines how the smell of the shop might cling to the man, oils and gasoline and the sweat of his labor, intoxicating and inviting should Dream nuzzle in close. He imagines those hands with their black-stained fingertips, their work-roughened texture, sliding over his body. How might they feel against his skin, his chest, his thighs? On his tongue? He imagines the hungry light that might fill Hob Gadling's eyes, if Dream were to take those skilled fingers into his mouth and hold his gaze while sucking on them, tonguing lovingly at every crack and callous. He imagines those fingers dark all over with a thick layer of fresh grease, the mechanic holding them up with a smirk like a promise, turning Dream to lay on the bonnet of his car—or perhaps bending him over a stack of tires there in the garage, yes—and pushing those fingers inside him, deep and insistent and perfect while his other hand holds Dream down at the small of his back. Automotive lubricant is perhaps not sanitary or otherwise suitable for sexual use, but the heat-of-the-moment urgency of the idea appeals all the same.

He groans aloud at the thought of being fingered with the thick warm grease, the slide and drag and the way Hob Gadling's fingers would curve and press exactly right until Dream was shaking apart with pleasure, scrabbling at the rubber tread of the tires he's bent over. He imagines Hob Gadling murmuring complimentary filth above him—"You look so pretty with my fingers up your arse; bet you'd look even prettier speared on my prick"—as he comes and comes and comes.

Of course he wishes to have the mechanic's cock as well. He is certain it is full and glorious, a beautiful specimen that would fill him perfectly, touch every sweet spot within him and set him alight. He wants it in his hands, in his mouth, in his arse; he wants it any way he can have it.

He desperately wants to get fucked by Hob Gadling in his garage amongst his work, by Hob Gadling strong and sweaty and dirty in his element, vigorous and virile.

The car would perhaps be most comfortable for lying on his back, the better to see Hob Gadling's gorgeous face while taking his cock. He himself would be stark naked and the mechanic still in his coveralls, unzipped all the way to let his prick out. Dream imagines him naked beneath the grimy clothing; Dream envisions chest hair to match what was seen on his gorgeous arms. Dream imagines those arms sliding up along the bonnet beside him, bringing his legs with them until Dream is nearly folded double and breathless with the sweet pressure of the mechanic's dick inside him, pistoning deep and perfect.

Would Hob Gadling pick him up, like so much inventory to be moved about the shop? Would Hob Gadling fuck him standing upright, holding him as if he weighed nothing? He fantasizes about the strength in those forearms and biceps, of the way they would flex and hold, Dream's knees hooked in his elbows and those broad hands gripping his hips as the mechanic would bounce Dream up and down on his prick, Dream clinging around his neck and jack-knifed beautifully in his powerful arms.

He comes at the thought, face down on his knees in his bed with a toy vibrating steadily against his prostate as he strokes himself over the edge, and the orgasm is so intense that he loses all sense of space and time for a moment. The toy is still buzzing merrily when he comes back to himself and he fumbles for the remote beside him, turning it off without yet removing it. He rolls over, brings his messy hand to his face and licks. He wonders what difference he might taste between Hob Gadling and himself, imagines that he is licking Hob Gadling's spend from his hand instead of his own, imagines how those dark eyes and that lovely mouth would smile to see him do so, slow and lascivious.

He turns the toy back on.

His fantasies continue as the days progress. He imagines taking Hob Gadling into his mouth, tasting the sweat and the musk of him after working all day in the garage; he imagines lavishing his tongue all over the length of him, sucking and swallowing and milking him dry. He imagines Hob Gadling's work-roughened hands in his hair, combing through it, clenching tight as he spends into Dream's eager mouth.

He imagines Hob Gadling on his back on the low wheeled board that mechanics use for sliding beneath cars—he does not know its proper name, but he imagines opening Hob Gadling's coveralls while he is laid out on this board and riding him like a prize stallion there on the shop floor with the scent of his work and his sweat all around. He imagines the blackened smears Hob Gadling's hands might leave on him, on his hips, his waist, his arse.

He imagines Hob Gadling bending him over the bonnet of his Porsche, fucking him hard and fast and absolutely without mercy until he is screaming his pleasure, until he is so loud that the mechanic will cover his mouth to muffle the noise and simply fuck him harder still. He wants it, aches for it, imagines Hob Gadling's hands planted firm on his arse, squeezing, spreading him open for his pounding cock, leaving dirty smudges on both cheeks as they careen into orgasm together—

Dream comes under the warm cascade of his own rainfall shower, one hand braced against the sleek tiles while the other grips his pulsing cock tightly. He draws great gasping breaths of the humid air, mind barreling on even as his climax peaks and begins to subside. His mechanic in the shower with him after all of that, sudsy and slippery-wet beneath the spray, shedding the grease and grime of his workplace; his mechanic, pulling him in for a kiss, smelling now of soap more than sweat. The idea appeals, on more than one level, and will not be dislodged even as he dries and dresses for bed. He falls asleep at last to the thought of a scrubbed-clean Hob Gadling on his knees beneath the gently-pouring water, freshly-shampooed hair swept sleek and dripping back from his face and his smiling mouth wrapped around Dream's cock.

He wakes to the sun streaming in his window and lies alone in his spacious bed with drowsy thoughts of being kissed awake, of Hob Gadling's stubbled face and warm lips nuzzling against his cheek, of calloused hands with black-stained nailbeds petting down his sides and grasping his hips. Of Hob Gadling's strong shapely arms pulling him close, Hob Gadling's chest hair tickling his nose, Hob Gadling's heartbeat strong and steady beneath his ear.

He thinks of Hob Gadling following him about the kitchen as he fixes breakfast, imagines his mechanic in a borrowed robe that hits him mid-thigh and doesn't quite close over his chest. He does not currently own such a robe, but that does not matter to the fantasy. He imagines Hob Gadling draped warmly over his back in this too-small robe while he cooks, nuzzling kisses into the nape of his neck, purring about how he wants Dream for breakfast while dragging his calloused fingertips up the insides of Dream's bare thighs. Because of course Dream has merely thrown on a long shirt to cook for his lover, and of course his mechanic cannot keep his hands to himself, and of course Dream would like to be fucked over the kitchen worktop before breakfast.

It is a daring fantasy, this stranger in his home, infusing sex and affection into his daily routines, and Dream wants it with an intensity that is frightening.

He spins himself broader fantasies as the days become a week, of showing up to his mother's summer gala with Hob Gadling on his arm, a mere mechanic brought to an Atelíotes event. He dreams of engaging in increasingly indecent public displays with him where all the high society patrons would see, embarassing Mummy Dearest and igniting gossip that would haunt her for years. He would reward Hob Gadling handsomely for his part in the scandal, sexually, financially, both if he should like. Or perhaps he might offer Hob Gadling gifts and incentives without petty family business mixed in, lavish rewards simply for his affections and sexual attentions. The term 'sugar baby' is very much in line with his thoughts, if not entirely accurate; he is only forty himself and his mechanic had appeared to be in his mid-thirties at least. But that feeds into his story; Hob Gadling is well into adulthood and working in trade labor. Perhaps he never had the chance to go to university; perhaps he had grown up poor. Perhaps he might like to undertake a course of study now, if Dream were to offer to pay for such a thing, in thanks for how well-fucked his mechanic would keep him?

Perhaps he might gift Hob Gadling a luxury car like his Porsche, in return for the sexual services he should like to be provided. Perhaps he might buy him tailored suits, expensive clothes in the latest fashions. He is undeniably drawn to the grimy working-class vision that had been branded on his memory when dropping off his car, sweaty and grease-smeared and glowing with life, but he also imagines how stunning his mechanic might look cleaned up and dressed to the nines. Dream would like to wine and dine him at the finest restaurants in London, put him into a limousine after, open his perfectly-tailored trousers and sample his cock on the drive home. To Dream's home, of course, where he would take Hob Gadling to bed and offer up his body for his mechanic's use—which would be delightfully merciless, given how Dream had primed and teased and denied him with his mouth in the car.

Perhaps he might take Hob Gadling away with him on holiday, show him all manner of foreign destinations he would never have seen on his own; at each of them Hob Gadling would fuck him, in sumptuous hotel beds or private beach cabanas or the gleaming toilet stalls of michelin-starred restaurants, with every bit of skill and enthusiasm at his disposal—delighted to be Dream's kept man and eager to show his gratitude for all that Dream could provide.

Dream groans, dragging one hand down across his mouth and arched throat while the other works swiftly over his cock, writhing on his bed with his shirt undone and his trousers open. He is achingly hard, leaking steadily into every rapid stroke; he hasn't even bothered undressing, so caught up in the feverish fantasies of the money and favors he might lavish on this man who consumes his thoughts, of how thoroughly he could expect to be railed and ravished and seen to in return—

Orgasm overtakes him quite suddenly, leaves him gasping and breathless and wrecked, and still he craves more. His fantasies are delectable, but his appetite is insatiable.

He desperately wants the real thing.

~

It is Thursday of the next week at last and Dream, fueled by his fading ability to recall the precise brown of Hob Gadling's eyes or the way his cheeks crease up when he smiles, does not call Matthew's Motor Repairs to check on the status of his Porsche as instructed. Instead, he drives out, excusing the trip to himself by visiting a local bookseller first and picking up several selections to add to his personal library. He does not linger overlong among the shelves, however; today he is consumed with much more pressing distractions.

He must see Hob Gadling again, if only for a moment.

When he enters the shop, there is no one at the counter up front and the door to the garage is ajar, raucous music drifting faintly through. "Hello?" he calls, but receives no reply.

It is a warm day outside and quite warm inside as well; Dream imagines how sweaty Hob Gadling must be, to be performing physical labor under these conditions. Such thoughts do nothing to calm or cool him.

After only a moment's hesitation, he rounds the counter and passes through the doorway, at which point he can hear Hob Gadling's voice singing along—"You don't have a clue/If you did you'd find yourself/Doin' the same thing too!"—beneath the music, passably on-key no less.

Yet another appealing feature to this man; it is simply unfair. Dream draws himself up, heart beating harder, and ventures around the large sink and cleanup station until he can see his Porsche, up on ramps, and—

And legs sticking out from beneath the side of it on one of those rolling boards, Hob Gadling's legs no doubt, spread wide like an invitation.

Dream stops abruptly, heat pouring into his belly; he takes a deep breath of the warm stuffy air, the machine-and-metal smell of the garage doing nothing to calm his libido. He stares, helplessly, at the work boots and coveralls, at where they stretch across Hob Gadling's crotch, affording frustratingly little suggestion of what lies beneath. And just above that, he can see that the coveralls are unzipped, not quite far enough to expose underwear but enough that Dream is treated to a glimpse of warm golden-brown belly and the dip of his navel, the dark sweep of hair above and below it.

—Mouthwatering—

It is with tremendous effort that Dream corrals his thoughts, steps forward again, closes the space between them and clears his throat to announce his presence. He nudges one booted foot with his own, not entirely meaning to do so but somehow unable to resist.

"Bloody—" The mechanic scoots out from beneath the car and Dream's knees go weak; he is grateful they do not give out altogether.

Hob Gadling is indeed shirtless beneath his open coveralls, displaying a chest far more gloriously hairy than Dream had imagined, a pelt thick and dark and alluring. He wants to touch, to comb his fingers through and rub his face against it, to lick the trail of hair that leads down to where the parted zipper comes back together. There is a visible sheen of sweat on his skin and Dream would lick that off as well; Hob is smudged with grease in various smears across his torso and forearms and Dream can hardly think for the rushing of blood in his ears, the swelling of want in the pit of his stomach. He drags his eyes back up to Hob's face, trying to school the ravenous hunger from his own gaze; he does not think he is overly successful in that regard but there is discernible heat in the warm brown eyes that meet him, and it is difficult to care about dignity, propriety, with reality unfolding so near to the fantasies that have carried him through the last ten days.

He stutters through some explanation for his presence, barely aware of his own words, barely registering the rundown he is given in return, watching hungrily as Hob climbs to his feet. His car will be finished tomorrow. He will have reason to see Hob again tomorrow. But right now he is unraveling, his self control a tenuous and threadbare thing barely within his grasp. He is watching Hob's mouth as he speaks, captivated, obsessed with the warm color of it flashing among the dark scruff of Hob's beard, and Dream wants to taste. His mouth, his skin, his cock, which is surely as magnificent as the rest of him—Dream cannot bear the thought of leaving without confirming his certainties, but it is one thing to revel in fantasy alone in his bed and quite another to actually act on it when faced with the man before him—

"Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Atelíotes?"

Hob Gadling is looking at him, hip cocked and coveralls alluringly open, smile just this side of invitational; there is the strong suggestion of interest and an implied offer in that warm tone and Dream's resolve, such as it is, crumbles.

He reaches. He touches. He speaks his want and follows with a flirtatious tease to mitigate his intensity, is met by teasing agreement in return, but when his mechanic mentions cleaning up first he absolutely cannot agree.

"No. As you are now, please." He steps closer, directly into Hob's space, a week and a half of fantasies clamoring in his mind as the scent of the man wafts into his nose—oil and grease, warm metal, sweat and a faint trace of citrus and a hint of some pleasantly masculine deodorant; Dream's mouth waters, and his prick throbs.

His mechanic hesitates. "I'm kind of filthy though?"

There is a tinge of shame beneath the words, and Dream. Will not have it.

"I am aware, yes," he purrs, seizing the open lapels of the grimy coveralls, and kisses Hob Gadling with ten days' worth of anticipation and want.

~

Dream is coasting on an adrenaline and endorphin high as he drives home, afterwards. He acted. He spoke directly of what he wanted. And he got it. He had spent ten days nursing fantasy and now he has experienced a delightful sliver of the reality of Hob Gadling.

And tomorrow, he will experience more.

Sleep does not come easily that night, keyed up and aroused as he is, but he manages at last. He wakes later than usual the next morning; he eats a light brunch, the excitement in his stomach counterproductive to the task, and makes sure to drink more water than usual. Thoughts of Hob fill his mind, arousing, distracting, enticing; he recalls with a sharp thrill the taste of Hob's pleasure on his tongue, and he is eager to be on his way to their appointment.

But there are things he must do to prepare, first.

He takes an enema, then shaves and showers, lathering everywhere with his sweetest-smelling soap, determined to be the polar opposite of what he lusts for in Hob. He strives for the cleanest prettiest and freshest he can get, the better to be taken and sullied and dirtied by his mechanic; Hob had seemed quite pleased with that dynamic yesterday and Dream is eager to repeat it with Hob's cock in his arse this time.

To that end, he employs a favorite dildo once he is clean and dry, lubing himself carefully and working himself open on the toy, mind blazing with thoughts of Hob all the while. He knows, now, the size and the shape (and the taste!) of Hob's prick, and he is giddy with the anticipation of having it inside him. He is salivating over how Hob compares to the dildo, how Hob will fill him just that much better, what filthy things Hob might say while taking his time over long slow thrusts, how good it will feel when Hob finally rails him without mercy—

He must force himself to stop, hard and panting as he withdraws the toy from his body. He sorts through his glass plugs quickly, finding the one he wants and fitting it carefully inside himself. It's broad enough to stretch him just a little more, perfectly flared to fit just right inside and out, short enough that he can bend and sit without discomfort. It's a beautiful tease, as a matter of fact, keeping him keyed up and aroused as he dresses himself, making him squirm just a little with every step as he gathers his condoms and his pocket-sized bottle of lube and his phone wallet and water, and leaves the house.

He composes himself over the two blocks he walks to the busier streets where he can hail a cab, steeling himself to normalcy in both movement and appearance while pleasure sings in his veins with every subtle shift of the toy within him. He is half-hard, hidden well enough by the loose cut of his slacks, and works to keep his thoughts from heating any further until he has reached his destination.

The cab drops him outside of Matthew's Motor Repairs and he pays, distracted and breathless with anticipation. Hob is there, inside, and Dream is certain that Hob is just as eager as he is for their rendezvous.

He hopes that Hob is just as eager.

Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances, reads the hand-written sign taped to the glass of the shop door. Ring if you have an appointment.

Dream's heart plummets for half a second, until he remembers their parting conversation yesterday about appointments and showing up and fitting in. This sign is for him, surely, a blatant invitation.

He takes a breath to calm the excited pounding of his heart, squirms surreptitiously on the toy inside him, and rings the bell.

= Started: 5/15/24 Drafted: 7/27/24 Posted: 7/29/24

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Shadowblumendrei Rec List

This week, we're going with wizard polycules! Here are nine fics that feature Caleb/Essek/Astrid/Eadwulf in some form - some a little cute, a lot that are at least a little angsty, and a good amount of hotness besides. Check them out beneath the cut, and comment and kudos if you like them!

amongst the things left unforgiven by nonwal (63958, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Discussions of suicide; panic attacks

Astrid and Eadwulf keep showing up on Essek's doorstep. Complicated wizard flirting ensues.

Reccer says: The character voices are magnificent and I love the way the relationships are developed. All of them keep trying to out-twisty each other and it's good.

in the light of long-dead things by Anonymous (3426, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Panic Attack

Astrid needs to stop gasping. If she doesn’t, they will be caught, and it will be Wulf who will be beaten instead of her. Wulf who will spend the week alone in the tower, half-frozen with cold. “What – what are you talking about? Who is Caleb?”

Reccer says: Astrid rarely gets comfort in fic, but this was soft and heartbreaking and a great look at what lies beneath the surface

fledgling pledges by Anonymous (3100, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

an attempt is made to court the former Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty

Reccer says: great fun bits of cultural misunderstanding!

the best of you (belongs to me) by quothhh (2525, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Werewolf sex/knotting

ssek returns home smelling of someone else. Astrid and Eadwulf fix it. Set in an au where the scourgers are werewolves and Bren never broke.

Reccer says: Extremely hot werewolf smut. Enjoy!

The Four of Us Are Dying by Defiler_Wyrm (6892, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent

After dinner and too many drinks, Wulf and Astrid invite Caleb and Essek to their bed. They quickly come to regret it

Reccer says: The turn in feelings and vibe part way through is amazing! All the messy feelings are so well portrayed

of the animal saving me by quanshi (burningdarkfire) (2727, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb gets a new cat. It took Wulf a full two weeks longer to catch on than he wanted to admit.

Reccer says: Great fun and fluffy

tell me about despair by hanap (10411, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

In which the new Archmage of Civil Influence, her sole annex, the former Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty, and a weary transmutation professor at Soltryce Academy knit themselves back together, hand in unlovable hand.

Reccer says: This is what I love about the ship- all these damaged people tearing at each other then learning to love again? Yes plz

i'll meet judgement by the hounds by necromanticomedy (yelenavasilyevna) (6553, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

A casual dinner party somehow turns into an 'insane psychosexual foursome'

Reccer says: I think the 'sex that is astrid holding essek at knifepoint and they're both fully dressed' and 'eadwulf being submissive the way a guard dog is submissive' tags sum up why I love this fic so much. They're all a bit fucked up in the best kind of ways

fill me up (don't break my heart) by SandSunSiliceousOoze (7974, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek asks Caleb about fisting. Caleb is more than happy to demonstrate, with Astrid and Wulf as teachers

Reccer says: I love the teacher roleplay with Caleb as the enthusiastic demonstration subject, as well as the amazing dynamic between all of them

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with Hallmark/Romcom Vibes!

[mrabubu]

Hi, I had a question about Temi and Leo's father-daughter dynamic. She's part of both of your AUs, Krangified and Never Part Again. In each one, due to the events, Leo has a somewhat different personality. How did that change his connection with Temi? Would the way he shows affection for Temi change? I have the same question with Ana. How does the dynamic (as a couple and as parents) that she has with Leo change in each AU, or does it stay similar? Your illustrations are incredible; it makes me happy to see them. I hope you're well.

Sorry I haven't replied earlier!

Yes, both Leo's are different, though, in the core they have same feelings towards Temi, and those are being able to create something good despite the circumstances and what they've done/been through.

Leo in krangified au is basically classic Leo. After the events with loosing the key and letting the Kraang invade Earth, he had the thoughts about how he wants to make something right or something good, and that good was Temi.

This Leo learns to be a good father, trying to spend as much time with his daughter as possible and give her as much love and fun as he can in this cruel world.

Never part again Leo been through hell, and at some point he stopped believing and loving himself, not thinking anyone could accept him in any way. But Temi changed that with her innocent and pure love towards her father.

To this Leo, Temi is something very valuable. She's warm, she's loving, she's innocent and she gives him a a sense of home. If someone as pure as her could love him, maybe he does deserve this and can learn to love himself again.

Ana makes Leo feel safe, Temi makes him feel loved in a way only a child can.

With Ana it's a bit more easier, and she's basically the same in both AUs by the time Temi comes into the picture. In krangified au she's more of passive in this relationship while Leo takes the main role and most responsibility, and in never part again au it's vice versa. In krangified au she's the one who's broken, and Leo takes care of her, and in never part again Leo is the one who's broken and Ana takes care of him.

I'm sorry if it's somehow messy, I hope I was able to answer your questions - 🙇🏻‍♀️

[accio-sriracha]

No because what even are the Marauders? Like the dynamics are just so absolutely wild with these four characters.

Okay so we have Remus: Literally a werewolf, stone cold sarcasm, could kill a man with one look, sharp mind and sharper tounge, like 6'4 and could 100% tower over you, in general just does not give a shit.

But we also have Remus: Soft Boi, tall and lanky, incredibly socially awkward, just wants naps and chocolate all the time, blushes furiously, way too stressed out about absolutely everything, can't go twenty minutes without complaining that he's cold.

We have Sirius: Punk Rock Badass tm, drives an illegal flying motorcycle, has the coolest animagus form to date, scary dog best friend privileges, the most Noble and Ancient House of Black reject, could kill you without hesitation if you look at his friends wrong, could tower over you even though he's shorter??, his voice is somehow even more threatening when it's quiet.

But then we have Sirius: Perpetual gay panic, will willingly fling himself off a bridge if any of the marauders told him to, terrified of Lily Evans (who's the shortest of all of them), sings along to Dancing Queen every time it plays, needs affection or he'll die, will break down crying because he cant get his eyeliner right, absolute hot mess.

We have James: Over protective, strong enough to manhandle someone easily, also incredibly tall, doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, popular jock, secret charms genius and could come up with a spell to haunt you forever, known for being a Prank God, is best friends with the House of Black reject and a literal werewolf, the untouchable quidditch captain, could probably down eight firewhiskeys and still shoot a quaffle perfectly through a hoop, his angry glare could melt fucking steel.

Then we have James: chased after the same person for seven years, crooked glasses and always messy hair, big doe eyes, literally and figuratively deer in headlights, won't stop whining about everything, takes an hour long shower because he needs to find the right playlist, refuses to eat sandwiches with the crusts on, wears mismatched socks, such a mama's boy, wears croptops for fun, likes being choked.

Well... and then there's just Peter: Not a mean bone in this kid's body, he will bring the snacks to the study group and there is nothing you can do about it, likes cheese, always down for a road trip, desperately needs validation, pins photos of all his best friends to his wall, likes cheese, can make you cry just by pouting at you, literally just a big tedy bear, needs at least three hugs a day, LIKES CHEESE.