#IN MY DAY we appreciated Denis properly

[hekateinhell]

before Daniel, there was Denis:

and does this not remind you of a certain passage elsewhere?

[thef1diary]

Baby Jr | One

— Friendly Banter

Series summary: The teasing, fleeting touches became much more on the night Carlos won, the sexual tension between you two reached a breaking point. Perhaps it was that night, or the many nights that followed, but you were pregnant with his child, putting you in a difficult situation.

Series Masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

Warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut yet

wc: 2.9k

Note: here it is, the first chapter of many more to come. lemme know what you think, feedback is always appreciated.

You had caught the eye of a certain Ferrari driver from the moment you joined the team. He always looked at you in fascination, having the urge to find a way to figure you out but that's all it was for the longest time. Until it wasn't.

Carlos Sainz vividly remembers the first time he set his eyes on you. He was on his way to leave the headquarters in Maranello while you were on your way inside. Carlos' gaze was watchful, almost heavy with judgment as you hurried in through the doors with more items in your arms than you should've been able to carry.

He almost stopped you to ask who you were, but he noticed the badge clipped onto your jeans, media personnel. You had already passed him before he could read your name, and shook his head knowing that your name was the more important detail compared to your role.

You hadn't noticed him that day, but he noticed you.

He didn't see you again until the new season came around, having almost forgotten about your brief encounter at the end of the previous year. He had to do a double take once he saw you setting up the cameras for some content he was supposed to record along with his teammate.

It was a simple video that required the drivers to answer a few questions sent in by their fans, something that should've been easy since they've done it before. But he couldn't focus on anything but you. Given that you were the ones asking the questions, reading them off the short stack of cards you had in your hand, he wasn't outed for being distracted.

Knowing the drivers still had a busy day ahead of them, you began packing up the items once the video was filmed. Keeping your eyes locked on the task, you expected the drivers to be led away by their PR managers, so you were surely startled once you heard a voice acknowledging you.

Carlos stayed back, and roaming your gaze for a split second behind him, Charles had left. You knew who he was of course, after all you followed the sport for many years before you were given the opportunity to work for one of the teams.

"I don't think we properly met, I'm Carlos." He extended his hand out and you gladly accepted, shaking it while introducing yourself. You found it sweet that despite being one of the two faces of the team, he still introduced himself like you didn't know who he was.

As a junior media employee who was still relatively new to the team, you were informed in advance that you would rarely be interacting with the drivers.

So it wasn't surprising that while working in the same team, you rarely saw Carlos in person. Working under Silvia—the head of communications—you would usually be the one tasked to edit the challenge videos, creating enough content from various footage to keep the fans engaged. The few times you did see him in person was to conduct media challenges that the team planned every once in a while to give the fans a chance to know the drivers underneath their helmets.

As the season went on, you found that you were indeed given the wrong information; you did in fact meet the drivers again and again. You were given many opportunities to travel with the team, and it would've been absurd if you denied those opportunities—not that you had a choice since you were needed at almost every race.

You were glad to experience the thrill of Formula 1 from the front row seats, able to watch all the sessions in the weekend itself but also be a part of the journey with the drivers that not many people get to see.

It was inevitable to befriend many people along the way, especially with their welcoming nature despite some news outlets suggesting otherwise. Formula 1 could be considered as one giant family that obviously had issues every once in a while but no one outside of the sport could relate to them like each other. Especially since it was described like a traveling circus by a few drivers.

While you had befriended many other employees whether it was within your team or others, you also spoke to the other eighteen drivers often.

But no other driver invaded your thoughts like Carlos did.

You didn't know if you were overthinking it all, but you believed that Carlos was a tad bit too friendly compared to Charles or even any other driver for that matter.

Whether it was a compliment that left you a blushing mess, a lingering look that followed you until you left the room, or even a small graze of his fingers against your back while crossing your path, you couldn't think of anyone but him lately.

You heard a Monégasque accent calling your name and you slowed your pace, allowing him to catch up to you as you greeted without needing to look to see who it was, "Charles"

"Here, it's still hot," he was holding two disposable cups of coffee in his hands, extending one towards you.

You gestured to your own hands, carrying one too many things again.

He sighed, "I still don't know how you do that." He stopped walking as he neared a surface to put down the cups. "Here, give it to me," he spoke but didn't let you make a decision as he grabbed the various folders, a clipboard, and a tablet from your hands. You were still holding on to a tripod and a camera but he freed up one of your hands so you could hold the cup.

"I will have to let you know, that tablet you're holding, is very valuable to the team," you stated, mainly in a joking manner because you knew he wouldn't do anything to it.

"Oh is it now? What's on it?" Charles asked once you resumed walking, this time sipping on your coffee before answering his question. "First, perfect," you hummed, gesturing towards the cup. "Second, it has all the schedules for meetings, interviews, and everything that you or Carlos could possibly need a reminder for during the weekend."

He gasped, almost offended, "I do not need reminders for anything during the weekend, not like Carlos does."

Despite how it may seem, your role didn't entail being a driver's assistant. In fact your job was to manage a few social media accounts and create content that included the drivers as much as possible but every now and then you also helped the company keep the public images of the drivers reputable.

Lately, Carlos had been finding reasons to talk to you, and most of that time would be spent reviewing his schedule multiple times throughout the day.

"He can be a little forgetful sometimes," you commented but Charles shook his head.

"A little? He needed you to remind him what time the race was."

You grimaced, knowing Charles was correct. "Well, you're his teammate so you know him better than I do."

"Yeah, I guess I'll ask him, thanks for the coffee," Charles stated as you two entered a meeting room. There were still fifteen minutes before it started, but you preferred to use that time so you could prepare yourself for all the notetaking it usually required. Since you were still a fairly new employee, you wanted to absorb all the information like a sponge.

Confused, you responded back, "you're the one who got the coffee."

He placed the items he was holding on the table, then noticing the time on his watch, a brief gasp overtaking his expression. "Thanks for the company then, I'll see you later," he playfully winked like he always did before leaving the room.

Moments later, a knock distracts you from reviewing the previous notes and stats from the last meeting. Thinking it was Charles, you ask, "did you forget somet- oh, Carlos."

"Are you busy?" He asks as he leans his forearms on the back of a chair. Shaking your head you respond, "not really, what's up?"

"I forget how crazy the crowds can get outside, so can I stay here for a few minutes?" You smile, "of course you can, come sit." He rolled a chair out and sighed in relief after finally getting off his feet.

Carlos closed his eyes for a moment relishing in the moments of silence in his hectic life. It didn't last long as you hummed a random tune which you usually did while working. It was so faint but since it was completely silent otherwise, Carlos' ears perked up as he heard it.

Instead of looking for the moments of silence he thought he needed earlier to even do a simple task as breathing, Carlos leaned forward with his usual watchful gaze focused on you. "Are you planning on more ways for us to make a fool out of ourselves?" He asked.

You chuckled, "I would never do that." Carlos gave you a look that indicated he didn't believe you.

"The last challenge was planned by you, no?" He countered and when you sheepishly smiled, he knew he was correct.

"You know, Charles is right," you spoke after a few moments of silence.

"How so?" He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head for a moment that almost caused you to lose track of your thoughts. You've gotten better at keeping yourself calm and collected around Carlos lately, but you still took a little moment to appreciate how his muscles flexed in the full sleeved shirt he wore.

"There's a team debrief happening in about five minutes where you're needed, and it's a bit of a walk so I'm wondering if you're gonna reach in time." To confirm your words, he glanced at his watch, raising his eyebrows when he realized you were spot on.

"You know my schedule so well now," he couldn't help but comment, chuckling as he did so.

"Only because you forget it," you retaliated.

"Maybe I do that on purpose," he stood up, once again stretching to the point where the hem of his shirt raised a bit, revealing a sliver of skin that your gaze immediately shifted to. While you might've gotten better, you still needed a bit more practice every now and then. Carlos chuckled when you didn't have a response right away, knowing you were distracted but he didn't feel the need to expose you just yet.

As he pulled his shirt down, your eyes snapped to his, finally coming up with a response "and almost get me fired for making you late?"

He shrugged, "maybe." You knew he would never do such a thing that would jeopardize your job, so you shrugged off his comment.

"Go now, Sainz" you urged, waving your hand to emphasize your point.

"I'm going, I'm going, relax, cariño." You could hear his laugh as he left the room, and you didn't focus on the papers in front of you until his footsteps had faded away.

It was just friendly banter, you reminded yourself even after hearing the nickname he gave you. Sometimes your conversations were borderline flirtatious, but it was still fine. Until it wasn't.

As the year progressed further, you were no longer just an employee with a career in motorsport; you were a member of the team that celebrated each high while consoling and sticking together during the lows.

While your job wasn't directly connected to the race, nor could you help in changing the outcome like the mechanics and engineers could, you helped uplift the mood in the room on multiple occasions.

Which is why when Carlos stood on the top step of the podium, claiming his first place trophy that would eventually become a part of a larger collection, you felt like you won.

The spray of champagne reached the crowd of his team waiting below the podium. A laugh bubbled up your throat as Carlos tried to aim the spill of the drink in the team principal's mouth standing on the floor a few feet away from you.

A proud smile grew on your face as you watched the drivers and a representative from your team that collected the constructors trophy gathered together on the top step to take a photo.

The celebrations continued in the team garage, since both drivers made it on the podium. The energy buzzing through each member was noticeable, knowing that this win would be celebrated until the next. After the team photo was taken, the champagne popped once again.

A few people were able to get away from becoming soaked, others were being targeted. Charles managed to slip away, but Carlos couldn't. He happily accepted the spray, soaking his race suit further after the podium.

His eyes however, darted across the crowd and landed on you. Standing just out of reach of the champagne shenanigans but still close enough to celebrate, Carlos decided to pull you even closer.

Grabbing the bottle from the nearest person, he covered the top and shook it. Releasing his thumb, he let the fizzy drink spray out, directing it at you this time. "Carlos!" You shrieked, but laughing nonetheless.

Once satisfied, he took a sip from the bottle, his gaze fixed on you as yours moved down to his neck, watching his Adam's apple bob while he swallowed. Passing the bottle to you, you moistened your lips before tipping it up and sipping the cool champagne.

His attention was diverted as Charles had found another bottle of champagne, deciding to drench his teammate even further after the celebrations began to die down. You smiled as Carlos tried to run away, dodging the alcohol, but it quickly dropped once he used you as a shield.

"Oh, no, no, no," you held your hand out at Charles who smiled mischievously, stopping in his tracks right in front of you.

"You are a part of the team," he commented, and you almost ignored his words as you felt Carlos' hands rest on your waist from behind, feeling his breath on your neck.

The heat of your thoughts was ruined when Charles decided to rain champagne down on you, cooling you off instantly. "Charles," you groaned, knowing that it would be an excruciatingly long process to wash all the champagne out of your hair, especially if it began to dry soon.

The team began to disperse, rightfully so as everyone wanted to change out of their champagne soaked clothes, you included. Trying to wring out as much liquid as you could, you muttered a curse under your breath. This was the first time you ever experienced a win like today.

Speaking of, the winner of the race was standing off to the side, shirtless. Carlos had removed his fireproof top but still had his race suit zipped down to his waist and placed a cap on his head backwards to keep his hair out of his face.

You parted your lips and watched his back muscles flex as he moved around, then hastily looked away as he turned. You kept wringing your shirt as he moved past you, and despite the fact that there was enough space for him to pass you without touching you, his fingertips brushed over your back, down to your waist. He lingered on your hip for too long, but he didn't say anything, only smiled when you inhaled deeply.

You had returned to your hotel room and immediately rushed towards the shower. The champagne from earlier had dried, creating an unpleasant sensation as a layer of tackiness remained behind. Washing away all the sweat and champagne, you sighed in relief, standing underneath the shower for a few extra minutes to release all the soreness in your muscles.

You still felt the buzzing excitement of the day running through your veins as you dried and dressed yourself, but you were also exhausted, ready to climb into bed and drift away into the safety of your dreams.

That plan was interrupted as you heard a knock on the door. Pulling your shirt over your body, you peeked through the peephole, smiling when you saw him standing on the other side.

"Oh hello, don't tell me you forgot your room number," you greeted Carlos as you opened the door.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he was transfixed by the sight of your hair, still wet from your shower, dripping down to your shirt beginning to cling to your body.

"I think I did, tell me you don't remember it either," his voice dropped an octave, and his stare was no longer calculating, but rather enticingly seductive.

"And why would I do that?" You almost whispered, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him.

He stepped forward, leaning one arm on the doorframe while his gaze glanced over you to briefly look inside the room. "I'm sure yours is big enough for two people."

The corner of your lip turned up at his words, knowing it was just a ploy to let him in. The realization that he desired you just as much as you had grown to want him dawned on you as you stared at him standing in front of you.

Trapping your lip between your teeth for a moment, instantly attracting Carlos' gaze towards them, you nodded.

"Let's check," you stepped back, pulling him inside by the collar of his shirt.

——

Taglist is open!! Lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

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[luveline]

omg i loved the loopy wisdom teeth one w peter 😭😭 can i get that with hotch, and reader, who's usually more reserved starts flirting with him and stuff while she's loopy

ty!! and ty for ur request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Most people have their wisdom teeth out in their teens," Aaron had said before you went in, a Spencer Reid tidbit if there ever were one. 

"I'm a special case," you'd said, accepting his kiss on the cheek but denying his half hug. "See you in a bit." 

People often lament that Aaron's ended up with a  woman so much like himself. You must make each other miserable, one ill-advised chancellor had said, to your amusement. 

We're desperately unhappy, you'd said back. 

The opposite is true. You and Aaron, or Aaron alone, at the very least, is as happy as he's ever been. Work is hard but manageable, Jack is well-tempered, growing smarter and kinder each day, and you're his sweetheart. You're reserved, a little solemn, but you understand him better than anyone ever has. It's a relief like no other to be known so well. 

And so he has zero qualms looking after you for the rest of your lives. He waits patiently for you to come out of surgery, arms behind his head in the empty waiting room. He's worried about you. This isn't a painless procedure. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, but you announce yourself anyways in the doorway. "Handsome!" you say, a lisp to your happy sing-song, "I'm back." 

Aaron doesn't know what to say. He giggles like a kid at your sudden demeanour and sits up properly. "Honey." 

You wobble with the nurse at your back, prompting him onto his feet to take over. "You should remove the gauze in about half an hour when the bleeding has completely stopped. Clean daily with saline, there are instructions in the bag," the nurse says, offering Aaron a white prescription bag. "Okay?" 

"That's perfect. Thank you so much," he says, taking your hand. 

"You're perfect," you say, looking up at Aaron with stars in your eyes. 

The nurse laughs softly as she leaves. Aaron doesn't bother hiding his amusement, grinning at you as he puts his hand between your shoulders to guide you to the front of the building. 

It's busier here. Reception is hectic. Aaron puts his arm more firmly around you to stop people from bumping into you and you again look at him with your starry eyed gaze. "You're very tall," you say. 

"I am," he says. "Though you joke occasionally that I'm shrinking." 

"The only thing getting smaller is your waist," you say, poking at his abdomen, "my champion." 

You're referring to his recent third triathlon success. He's no record setter, but it keeps him active and happy in the summer months, and he can't pretend you don't appreciate the additional definition of his muscle during this time. You like him every month of the year, of course, but with his trim waist comes a certain amount of energy you also appreciate. 

"Completely inappropriate behaviour," he says lightly, waving a short goodbye to the receptionists as he holds open the door for you to pass by. "Next you'll be enacting PDA." 

"You'd like that, huh?" 

Hard to take any notice of you with gauze fluffing your words, and again, he laughs at you. "I'd love that." 

"Well, wait, I'll do it right here–" 

Aaron catches your hands mildly. "In the car first. Kiss after." Your downtrodden expression requires urgent care. "What, that's not okay? You're upset?" 

"No," you lie obviously, glaring down at your feet as you wobble forward. 

"Maybe we can wait until later, then." 

"What?" You gawp. "You just said in the car." 

"I'm teasing you," he says, taking your elbow. "We've been known to do that with one another on occasion. You know I'd happily kiss you anywhere you wanted to be kissed, honey, now watch your step on this curb. Watch your step. Good job." 

You're extremely pleased by his praise, leaning into his arm with your head tipped back. "You're so handsome. Can you kiss me now?" You soften your eyes. 

Alright, you have a little bit of bloody dribble on your bottom lip, and yes, there's this dazed look about you like you've had a mean shock, but you never look at him like this day to day. Perhaps in your more intimate moments, your arms around him when the lights are low, or early, early in the morning when you haven't yet remembered your more timid temperament. But it's so rare. It catches him off guard, how pretty and wanting you look. 

Aaron leans down for a careful kiss, the barest of pressure. 

"And a good kisser," you murmur, turning into his chest for a hug. "I love you, I want you to carry me to the car." 

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can," he says. He's mostly kidding in the depth of his apology, but there are real threads of remorse in his voice, hot as a flame. "Come on. We'll go home, okay?" 

"But you always do everything for me. Everything I ask for." You talk into his chest, likely leaving pink spit on the grey of his quarter zip. He couldn't care less, his arm around you, looking down with equal measures of fondness and surprise. "I had to stop saying I liked things because you kept buying me stuff. I love stuff." 

"Then why did you stop?" he asks quietly. 

"'Cos I know I don't deserve it. Don't deserve you, Aaron, you're the best man I've ever met. Can't believe it."

He savours your mumbling, and begins to walk forward slowly, encouraging you out of his chest as he formulates an answer for your confession with the same gravity. "You can't believe it?" 

"You're a tall glass of water." 

He actually sighs aloud. My girl, he thinks, rubbing your lax shoulder. "Alright. What if I thought the same of you? What then?" 

You giggle infectiously, a stickying sound like you know he's trying to trip you up. "Nice," you say. "We should always be like this." 

When he brings it up later, the extreme effects of your anaesthesia dissipated and your pain revamped, you can't think of anything worse. "I'm mortified," you whisper, your ice pack chilling the top of his arm where you've wedged it, your hand tucked between his thighs in an attempt to stay warm. 

"I quite liked it." 

"You would. You used to flirt with me so aggressively–" 

"Aggressively," he repeats, grinning. 

"–you're lucky I survived it." You sniffle, rubbing your nose into his sleeve. "Was I as intimidating as you are?" 

He presses his lips to the top of your head, not kissing, just there. "No," he says into your skin, "you weren't intimidating at all. Just lovely. It made my day." 

"I'll have to have my teeth taken out more often." 

He snorts. "If you'd rather have more teeth pulled than flirt with me unaided, things are worse than I thought." 

"Don't be like that..." Much quieter, "Will you rub my back again, please?"

Just like that, he's reminded of how much he likes your regular reserved attitude. "Sure, honey. Lean forward."

[lover-of-skellies]

Rambles about heavy subjects under the cut

So uhhhhhh

I never thought I'd have to make a post like this, because it just feels weird and I'm not sure what to do or how to phrase things, but

My grandpa died yesterday. I wasn't there when my mom received the call from the hospital, I just heard about it from my sister. My sister and I were never really all that close with him because of some issues within the family, and our mom wasn't too close with him for a while either, but she'd made amends with him. She'd go see him, pick him up for holiday dinners and gatherings so he could be with us and be a part of the family again, and then she'd take him home. He was a diabetic, so she'd even taken on reminding him to take his meds and things, whenever he was with us. I can't tell you how many times she went to the little bar where he liked to go sing karaoke every Tuesday night (I believe. I think it was Tuesday, but it could've been another day of the week, too)

Even though my sister and I weren't really ever close with him, he meant practically the world to our mom. She's been talking to some people, since he didn't have a will or anything written up. His passing was sudden and unexpected, so now everyone's scrambling to figure out the details for what to do with him

We don't have a lot of money. Sometimes it's hard scraping by, as is. My mom works at a hospital, my sister started working at a pet store, and I'm fighting with the social security people to try getting disability. I've been denied probably 3 times already, but I'm still trying my hardest to get through to them

The cheapest option for funeral stuff for my grandpa is cremation, but even then, that's $3000. We don't have that kind of money. His girlfriend's pastor chipped in maybe $500, I think, but beyond that, I'm not sure. I feel like I need to do something to help this situation, since my mom absolutely doesn't need this financial issue on her shoulders. She has a lot to worry about already as things currently stand, and I feel bad that I can't do more for her, but. All I can do is this. Making a post, rambling about the situation, and maybe asking if people could consider donating a little to my Ko-Fi

Donations would help a lot tbh, and I think my current donation goal was set to like... $200 - $250, something like that, but. It's a start. There are some things in my shop you can buy, I'm gonna try to add more soon, and I have commissions open, even though I haven't drawn in ages

I feel really icky about doing this and asking for donations, because I know that for a lot of us, money is tight, and I understand that things aren't cheap anymore. $300 used to get you a heaping cart of groceries that'd last a while, but now, it barely covers enough to last 2 weeks

I.... don't really know how to finish this post off, or how to properly close it, so. Again, donations would be greatly appreciated and it'd help a lot, and I'd be so, so grateful for every cent of it. It's not an obligatory thing by any means. You don't HAVE to donate, and if you can't afford to, I completely understand

[hisui-dreamer]

aaaaah my heart died of tenderness with rook's hdcns with lipstick buuut now I beg you plss ;u; I need one the same but with vil schoenheit plsss ksjsks I also want to fill vil's face with kisses (/ u \)

the queen's markings

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x gn!reader

Synopsis: he wouldn't lose a competition in something he's an expert in, but it's more fun than he expected

Tags: established relationship, kissing, lipstick marks, crack, bot proofread

Word count: 491

Notes: happy birthday @v-anrouge! i hope this vil fluff brightens your day aster, thank you for always bringing fun energy into my feed hahaha (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

rook's part here!✧Masterlist

The rules are simple: you would take turns with a one-minute timeframe to shower the other with kisses and leave lipstick marks behind. The one who leaves the most marks by the end of the game would win.

really??? that's such a messy idea?? and you're just making a mess that you'll have to clean up later

if you wanted to kiss him, you should've just said so ;)

Vil doesn't really get the appeal when you tell him the idea

but once he agrees, as with everything, he's very meticulous about it, deliberately choosing the perfect lipstick that would transfer well and match your skin tone

he wears makeup so often, he's basically an expert in the transferability and durability of makeup

only usually he's trying not to get his lipstick smeared

but when it's your turn, he can't deny he enjoys having you place kiss after kiss on him

though the stickiness of the lipstick is a bit messy, he loves the warmth of your breath against his skin, accompanied by the gentle touch of their lips

there's a proud smile on his face as you litter his face with kisses

surprisingly, the game is really relaxing, although he could really do without the messiness

when it's his turn, his posture straightens slightly while he scans your face to see where to start with each delicate touch of his lips, he strategically places precise and vibrant lipstick marks, ensuring maximum impact and coverage

he pays attention to every detail, from the angle of his kisses to the intensity of his affection

he moves swiftly, yet with calculated precision, ensuring that no spot on your face is left untouched

aaand ding ding! when times up, he steps back a bit, his chest rising and falling with a mixture of excitement and satisfaction as he admires your flushed face

he shouldn't find it attractive really, it's messy and sticky and gosh he hopes it doesn't leave a stain, but he can't deny how satisfied he feels having so thoroughly marked you, and how alluring you look in the moment

the two of you definitely take pictures together to commemorate

he's never going to show anyone this picture, he's the only one who can see how beautiful you are

he's very likely to win, he knows the ins and outs of his makeup, so he definitely has an advantage there

okay, it's cleansing time

if you clean your face properly, he'll pamper you with a little skin care/spa session

"Darling, if you desired my kisses, a direct request would have sufficed," Vil smiles teasingly, tilting your cheek upwards. "I suppose I can partake in this game, but I don't quite understand the appeal."

He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you covered in his meticulously placed lipstick marks, a mix of pride and affection evident in his expression. "Ah, my dear, you wear my affection so well," Vil murmurs, his voice infused with a sense of satisfaction.

"Now, it is imperative that we clean up properly. It is essential in maintaining the health and radiance of our skin," he says, his voice carrying an air of authority. "Come, I prepared some face masks for us to enjoy."

rook's part here!✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[eddiemunsonbignaturals]

just a pinch

summer ends way too fast; you and Eddie surprise each other.

includes smut, as in 18+ 6k words somehow lmao? most of it fluff  best friends to lovers, and it gets a little gross in an arguably unsexy but very intimate way. you're not supposed to put anyone's mouth on your new piercing until at least two weeks out don't be dumb listen to your piercer

content: boob fondling, dry humping, jean nutting, some mild threats of violence, mentions of piercings but not piercing play to my understanding

reader is described as fat, dark skinned, and referred to gender neutrally, mostly (tough guy, man, angel, sweetheart).

comments (yes, even short ones,) reblogs all v much appreciated, take care :*

So, the heatwave had been a fake-out. 

You had both expected more swim-days. Just a few more sweaty, sticky nights— sat too close and tangled together sharing a bowl of Moose Tracks by moonlight, in as little fabric as you could manage and with as much ice as one freezer bucket could hold.

But alas, the fall sneaks in one cloudy morning and makes you regret ever even thinking the word “winter.” 

You’re shivering as you shock awake and roll clumsily to the nightstand. Reaching blind for the blaring landline, your hand cringes away from too-cold plastic, and you groan long and low in mourning— it's definitely over.  While you were asleep, Summer had packed up her bag and ducked off in the dark before you could send her off properly. Goodbye, dog days.

Hello, caller. You know it’s Eddie before you pick up; he knows it's you before you speak.

“Can you believe this? Shit fuckin’ sucks,” he croaks, right off the bat and into the receiver.

“And blows—“ you sigh back, punching one satin-covered pillow and your headscarf off the bed. “We couldn’t even get, a like, temperate couple of days? It had to go straight to freeze-my-dick-off immediately?”

“ha! Please. The end is nigh, sweetheart. You know it better than I,” he almost sings. His sleepy lilt catches on the pet name, and that gravelly morning timbre gees up your morning wood like nothing else can. You kiss your teeth, honestly annoyed at how he affects you this early, and when Ed’s answering chuckle rumbles through your ears and down your jaw, it's like you can feel his breath through the phone. 

God, he sounds good. You hum into a long sigh as he talks. It warms you, everywhere, hearing his voice first thing, and if your non-phone hand drags down your chest and reaches lower to rearrange the pillow between your legs, he doesn’t need to know.

You hear Eddie fidget, as he does, and he switches the phone to his other ear. Then, there’s the rattle of the earrings against plastic– a few chunky hoops he got at your suggestion, and one with your first initial that he definitely plucked off of your desk, though he had lazily denied it. You feel a smile fight its way to your face, suddenly giddy about him, about his call. 

A snapshot of him talking himself awake is as clear in your head as the grey in the sky: a grumpy Munson, emerging from the mess of gifted homemade blankets and ancient, flat pillows. Just a pair of doe eyes, framed by a cluster of chocolate curls and a scowl. Picture-perfect.

You’ve been nursing this damn crush forever, and with the effort of punching it off the bed and out of sight with that headscarf, you’re long past exhaustion. But, in the safety of your chilly room, and with the comfort of his voice in your ear, maybe you’ve enough strength for now to entertain a butterfly, or ten.

You had worn his ring to bed— a little bat hugging your ring finger the way it had been hugging his before you’d snatched it off as payment for a dare gone unfulfilled–and you’re twirling it now, like some lovesick sap. You’re written all over each other, and you’ve been itching to do something about it. But, that’s not the issue right now.

Right now,

“I know, life is over, the globe is warming, there are only a few summers left, et cetera. We’ll still have fun.”

(the dare? you had challenged him to snatch some Hawkins PD pig or another’s goofy little ranger hat as he had passed the two of you on the street. Eddie had suggested maybe he couldn’t float past an arrest on boyish charm this deep into his twenties, and acquiesced without a word when you had held out your hand for his own. 

You’d pretended not to notice the blush creeping up his neck; he had let you hold his hand a bit longer than necessary. It had been an even trade, as always.)

Across the line, Eddie’s still snickering at you, voice fathoms deep– all crackly– when he speaks again. 

“Hold on to your dick, angel, I'm pretty sure there’s options. Like, uh, maybe clothes? Clothes usually work for me.”

“Don’t get cute! I'm fat, you clown, I sweat-- I don’t need clothes. And, I belong in the water, Munson. Its beyond fun, its—“

He cuts you off completely, ignores your scoff, and finishes for you.

“—fulfilling, healing, its what and where you were in every past life, the brain sludge is already building back up as we speak, and ‘I’ll die, I'll just about fuckin’ die, Munson,’ once it drops below 40, I know, stop bitching,” he laughs. His tone? Pure fond; your stomach somersaults. 

You hear the smile widen when he goes on to remind you, “but I guess it's fall now. IE, your favourite.”

“Say ‘bitch’ to me again, I’ll shave your peanut head.”

He takes it back, giggling something about his favourite tough guy, but you know he’s got you there. You definitely are bitching, and—

Halloween month, cider season, big soft sweater weather, rain? It is the best, but it's never too early to argue. 

“You’ll love it, angel.”

You give up, melting again at his affection verbalized. You’re humming assent as he keeps the ball rolling, asking what you’d like to do today instead of going for a swim. Come over and take turns reading the new discount novel he found? Start that mead recipe you made last year? Drive over to Stobin’s—see who can sneak in and scare the shit out of them first? 

All great ideas, you assure him, but you decided long ago that the End of Swim also marked the beginning of piercing season. Your safety moratorium on body mods of all kinds has been lifted, now that you can’t dip your fresh wounds into scummy lake water. 

You've been planning a particular pair for some time. You also decided that it would be a surprise. Your Eddie is observant, dialed in, and sure, maybe you like to play the odd game here and there. He notices you, and you notice right back.  How long, do you think, will it take for him to note a new set of nipple piercings if you don’t warn him first? You figure it’s time to test it.

So, you break his heart a little, and decline to hang out today after all. You’ll see him on your next day off, you promise, and make plans for “four days hence, Munson, quit bitching. I just remembered something else I need to do,” before hanging up on his protests and pulling on your first pair of sweats in 4 months. 

ID, water bottle, and a sweet breakfast in tow, you head for the best (note: only) tat shop you know, braced and ready for a world of pain, going boldly into the cold.

—---------

And there had been almost no pain, at first. You had yelped girlishly before the first needle went in, then felt embarrassed about how easy and quick it had been. Before you had even realized, it was over, and you grinned big at the unique beads framing each pert, dark nipple. You loved them. You loved the piercings, and more than ever, loved your tits. Couldn’t wait to go home and check them out from every angle, actually. 

Then, a malicious towel snag, a careless door-jamb bump, and a hateful sweater-thread later, you were fearing for your life. Over the last few days, you had taken to crouching around them a bit, arms wrapped loose around your stomach as a reminder and for protection. Your nipples were insanely sensitive, now more than ever, and you had never understood ‘til now how often you simply walked through and into things instead of just around.  

But, they were calming down, and with each prescribed saltwater soak you breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of visible irritation. The standard piercing boogers notwithstanding, they looked hot, you felt hot, but found yourself nervous for the big reveal. You thought you would hide them well, your mission made easier by the cool weather and baggier shirts it allowed. 

You’re in his room now. Eddie’s ideas had been good, but you had both decided on the usual– you, rocking up to his trailer and spending the day with him throwing food and trading theories, hours whiled away in artistic pursuits and cat-naps, never too far from one another. It’s been a good day– you’re doing such a good job with the piercings, you forget to hide how entranced you are by Eddie's hands. 

“Aren’t you hot?” 

You count the veins and tendons as they flip pencils and drum against whatever surface they encounter, try to guess how long he can go before he bites that right pinky nail too short again, wonder if he’s running hot today. He’s tactile, your Eddie, but you’re sitting on the floor, legs sprawled, and yeah, a little too warm in the hoodie you came in as he lounges on the bed– too far for his idle touches to distract you into admitting anything. 

You love those hands. You want to taste them one day. He’s looking at you.

Fuck, wait, he’s looking, and you haven’t answered him. You cut your eyes away, to the floor, to your nails, like an idiot. That wasn’t at all suspicious, sure. You’re reasonably sure Eddie hadn’t noticed the piercings themselves yet until, as you snack and he chats again about his sketch, he suddenly drops the pink eraser you’ve been watching his square fingers systematically tear apart.

“N...Noooooo.” He takes in your belated answer and eyes you for a second, then starts talking again. You tug your hands gingerly into the hoodie you’re in and slide the thing over your unwrapped cloud of hair without snagging anything, then toss it away, wiping the light sheen of sweat you realize is cooling on your nose.

 Fuck, here we go. You hadn’t considered you’d have to hide in conversation, just that you had to keep him from seeing. You try to keep your cool, but answer too quickly. This wouldn’t last long.

“Have you been eating weird shit again?” Eddie asks, cutting himself off from explaining the lore of his latest campaign villain. He’s sitting up more since you last looked at him– leaning back on one elbow as the other arm drapes comfy across his belly– and watching you fidget in that weird posture you’ve adopted since the piercings. 

“Eat– We–, me? Weird? What’s– What?” Nailed it. Smooth, like butter. Too player. You thank God or Dolly or whoever’s watching that your blush isn’t visible, because you can already feel your face heating up.

He stares, eyes squinted. You watch your plate, then look back at his lovely hands, fingers pale and impatient, thr-r-r-rumming in sequence against his now-closed notebook.

“What’s with the air-head act? And why are you clutching your tummy and moving like you fell down the stairs?” Okay, that one’s easy.

“Cramps.” Your reply is stiff, but reflexive. The pink in his fingertips as he drums is entrancing. Maybe you’ve saved it– you think you sound sure. He’s silent for beat, and you pick up a cracker and look out the window. Maybe you’re a genius. The fuck’s he gonna do? Argue?

“Hm. Bullshit?” You look up to challenge that, and catch him peering behind you to the stuffed possum you had gifted him when his favourite, real, live, wild possum friend stopped her brief shuffle through the fire pit behind his trailer one drizzly day. 

(Eddie had called it the best week of his life, then declared that he’d never love again.)

After another beat, as if the scruffy thing has read the room and confirmed its answer, Eddie nods once, curls bouncing, then swings his neck dramatically back to you to assert, “bullshit.” 

It's panic creeping up your throat now, because he’s going to see you,  see them, this isn’t– well– it is– but you didn’t think it through, and you aren’t a good enough liar to dodge the impending question. You hem for another moment, hands hovering over your torso, and he looks between them and your face before snapping his bulk upright so fast that the bits of pink littering his lap and thin muscle shirt fly up in the flurry.

“What’re you hiding?”

A frown tugs your lips down before you can stop it. You watch Eddie toss the notebook and, with a loud thump, collapse off the bed boneless into your nest of blankets and towards you like a mad slinky before you can finish saying, “nothing! I’m not– hiding–, wait a second!” 

In that second, Eddie has slithered the 4 feet between him and you, kind of flinging himself on top, landing more gently than you expected in a straddle and pinning your now-closed thighs under his seat before you can wiggle back and away in time. 

“Did you get a tattoo without me? You fucking did, didn’t you?” He might be verging on genuinely hurt, by the sound of it. You’d promised after he’d started his stick-n-poke journey that he’d be your first, (tattooer, that is), once he got some training together. Had swore to him–

“Le’me see– what, is it that shitty? Who the hell did you go to? You can’t be–”

“Ow, Eddie, stop!” Your screeching protest belies real pain this time, curling in on yourself and to the side as much as possible. He bumped a piercing in the shuffle, the pain expected but still shocking, and he backs off a bit and coos in sympathy, all his next words coming out in a frantic rush.

“Fuck, oh no, I’m sorry. I’msosorry, Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, breathing deep through the stinging. As it subsides, he ducks his head to meet your eyeline, his paint-stained palms up, promising no contact. He’s still straddling you, most of his weight on his heels. Still locking you under him, where its very warm.

If you looked down and saw your heart itself beating its way out of your chest, you wouldn’t be shocked. You’re almost choking on it, and plotting how to get him off you without knocking the new piercings again. Its enough to spin your head, to think you’ve been found out this soon, that the bravado in your spirit has fled so quickly at the reality, not just the idea, the real life prospect of showing Munson your tits. 

But it's thrilling, him on top of you. It's always thrilling, a dream fulfilling itself, isn't it? Even if the context is off. This isn't the first time a bout of “weird” from one of you or the other has ended up in a fact-finding mission– sometimes wrestling match, or pillow fight, or wild, short chase through the woods. 

But every time he gets this close, it's like the path between your head brain to the other brain is cleared– heat is flooding the thin cotton that separates you from his well-worn denim faster than ever. He has to get up, right now. You have to keep him there forever. 

You relax as the sting subsides, uncurling and groaning a bit as those strong, clever hands fall to bracket your head on either side. Eddie leans down, sounding the creak of floor beneath you,  and scowls, bathing you in his radiating heat. Studying you, taking in your full lips pressed into a thin, nervous line, your brows turned up where they’d meet, betraying distress. 

“What is going on in there, man?" He's really worried now. When did you start keeping secrets?

“It’s…not a tattoo?” You purse your lips and scrunch your nose, and the sweet smile that flows like syrup across his face seems involuntary.

“Then what else– huh?” Eddie is trying to keep eye contact, but the wheels are turning, and his lovely smile drops. He glances at your arms crossed over your chest, and his jaw falls open, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Not a tattoo. Not ‘a’ anything, actually. Two things.”

“No, you didn’t. No way, not a chance.” Eddie seizes your wrists and ignores your protests, pinning each arm by your ears where his once were, and tries to x-ray inspect you through your shirt. It's dark, but not thick enough to weather this kind of scrutiny. Those telltale bumps are right there in front of him, the middle of each trio hardening as he inspects. So, you give up trying to argue, and shrug, suppressing a smile. 

“With— wha?” Eddie’s looney-tunes double-take makes you hoot a laugh as he swings his head and bouncy curls up and down, looking at you, glancing back at your chest, and up again as he processes what he’s hearing. What the fuck is he hearing? 

Your eyes stay low but your brows arch together as you scoff at him, dork. “You’re really telling me you hadn’t seen them?”

“I’ve– not–wha– I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean–”

But, you had been talking shit. He couldn’t have seen anything in the dark shirt you had been wearing all day unless he’d been staring when you weren’t looking– had he been staring at your tits anyway?

 Did he do that often? Your jaw doesn’t drop so much as glide mischievously open. Surprise dawns and Eddie realizes he has, in fact, given himself away too quickly. Coolest dudes in Hawkins, you two.

He changes tack, slapping the floor by your head, still a little shocked.

“You got your nipples pierced? I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you! You’re full of shit.” His voice is almost petulant in its disbelief, high and tinny.

Your eyeroll is audible, “I mean. I can prove it, Munson.” 

“When?” He gasps, indignant, and slaps the floor with the other hand. 

“You barely have your ears pierced-“ he exaggerates. “Who the hell did ‘em? Was it a guy? You let some guy–”

“Please, some professional? Can you be serious?”

“You can’t take the pain, angel, not without my moral support, there’s no way. You’d have been whining about them being sore all fuckin’ week if you’d gotten your—“ 

He looks at your tits again, jaw slack, but in his shifting sends them undulating with the movement. His whole body goes still, except to inhale very slowly.

You’ve maybe never been this self conscious in your life, but his distraction emboldens you.  

“The idea was ‘surprise’, not ‘ambush’. But,” you drawl, smirking as you twist a wrist easily out of his now slack grip and push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Do you—well.” Your eyes falter when your voice does. You want to offer proof. You’re not that bold yet, but you’re working up to it. 

He gives you room to sit up completely, hovering over your calves, back almost on his haunches. His heat leeches into your legs, swells in your chest and behind your eyes.

You want to touch him, like you always do. Eddie's deep brown eyes are wider, his mouth slack. His breathing is a little harder too, and you wonder for a second— do you want to un-ring this bell while there’s time?

“No,” he answers. “I mean, yeah, I—“ He rolls his plush lips into his mouth and then parts them, trying to work out how to ask. It’s not a dare anymore, and you feel a shyness completely unfamiliar, laid out in front of your best friend in the world. 

You wilt a little; Eddie finds his courage.

He swallows, and you watch his throat work while he figures out what to say, maybe as nervous as you are.

“Can I see?” He sounds hopeful, gentle, but to soothe you or himself, you can’t tell.

You dont quite answer with, “I’ll have you know, they didn’t hurt. At all, actually. It was...cold. Uncomfy, totally, but not painful— just a bit of a pinch? The last week has been worse than the actual needles were.” 

Eddie seems to realize he’s really staring, and cuts his eyes to the left, almost shy, and he seems to wipe sweat from his palms down the length of his strong thighs.

Your own hands pick at the hem of your shirt, and his gaze is split between your mouth and chest. Then, he shifts his weight, leans back like he’s about to give you space, when you reach for his warm, toned tricep, his skin shifting over muscle as he fidgets, and you’re ready to tell him the rest of the story. You can’t bear to miss his warmth on top of you, you realize. Now or never, you think. 

“I…” you croak, “I thought of you.”

 You hear him choke, like actually choke on his spit, then watch him shake his head like he’s rattling himself out of a haze. Eddie’s locked in on your eyes, searching for even the hint of a joke as you lift the shirt up just your stomach, exposing all the graceful cresting hills of your soft middle to his hungry gaze.

“When I picked them out, I mean.”

“Youf, you– fuc– You did this for me?” He sounds so absolutely incredulous, and breathless, all bravado bled out, or rushing to his reddening cheeks. It's like Eddie opened the next Discworld and found a dedication in his name, like the heavens have opened above him. For him? For him?

“Not for you, you clown, of course not. But like, maybe I wondered which ones you’d say I should get. And maybe... I thought you’d appreciate my pick.” Your crooked smile feels small, and you feel like offering something more substantial. 

So, you do.

“Appreciate..? I. Oh, god, Jesus, I.” You had been lifting your shirt so casually as you spoke, palms sliding up across your skin and dragging cotton with them, a caress so careless it seemed incidental. But you avoid hitting the new bars through each hardening nip, chills putting a mild tremble in your hands that he first catches, and is then distracted from. You watch Eddie’s short-circuit for a bit, feel his thighs tense around yours. You decide then that boldness is the only path forward. 

At the last rounding, you let them hem of the shirt catch on the underside of your bust, and just before its dangerous, lift them up by the hem and then drop them a bit, so they bounce for him, putting on a little show, posture straighter than before in presentation.

You’ve killed him. His plush lips try and fail to form a word, any word, as he lets out another shakey breath and leans back in to you by centimeters.  

“Eddie?” you prompt at his silence, voice quieter now. He’s still a little wide-eyed when he gasps out,

“What. Appreciate? Fuck, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. Jesus Christ, I never thought— Are those bats?” He’s moon-eyed and gaping like a dry fish, and you’re too keyed up to even tease him about it. You didn't just think of him, you conspired to match with him, to carry a little bit of him with you.

You know he wants to see you, more than just the piercings, and that teasing smirk is a distant memory, much like your patience. 

“So you hate them, huh?” He’s shocked into laughing before you can finish the question, restoring the quiet to something like normal as he raises his ringed hands to frame the low curve of your breasts. But he takes them in only with his eyes, flitting back and forth between them.

“They look, so so good, so good, god. The color you picked, even,” a warm gold that picks up the warmth in the soft creamy brown of your skin, “it glows, like, perfect. Gold’s your color, Sweetheart. It's all your color.” 

Bravado is fickle. You order him through barely parted lips, like you didn’t mean to say it out loud, then almost slur the hasty backtrack, “touch them. If-you-want, I-mean, if-you—.” 

In Eddie’s mind’s eye, gold falls from the sky; from his mouth tumbles a bewildered, “'If i want?' Are you insane?” 

As he reaches, you nod and sit up a bit straighter, feel heat rise in your cheeks, and take his confession with a crooked smile.

“I dreamt this.”

Here’s you, insufferably coy through a giggle: “Yeah? How’d it go?”

 His own knowing smirk is back, and you shiver, wanting fathoms deep as Eddie's hot hands envelope the heavy mounds of your breasts from below, cupped in the way he had threatened before you granted permission. Eddie seems to weigh them as he holds you, committing to memory how the plush fat of them sits in his palms, how they pebble across with gooseflesh at his very gentle fondling. 

You’re so soft, and warm, and he’s touching you; his mind splits in two. Some of him prays to any god for escalation, the rest could die happy right here.

On contact, you sigh together. Heavy, whispering things— you were both holding your breath— and inhale together, too. Your eyes flutter closed at the the drag of each body-warm ring as they poke into you. His calluses are almost sharp against you where they glide, some of the time ghosting over your skin, but mostly kneading you warmer.

It's your soft little hum of pleasure, how you arch, helpless, into his touch— the indiscreet rub of your knees together, and your thighs into his seat, the way you fight the smile back— these bring him back to himself,  and he checks your face again, watching the small smile grow as your eyes flick up to his. 

“Different,” Eddie intones, low and slow. “We’re out of order.”

You’re watching his pretty mouth again while he feigns serious, but as he moves just one hand to the floor behind you and leans in close, warm Cheez-It-breath tickling your face, setting alight every nerve that wasn’t already screaming for deeper contact. You meet his penetrating gaze and gasp at the pleasure-pain of that ringed thumb finally, finally, swiping up along one pert nipple. 

It's a shocked moan, not a gasp, that opens your mouth as he collides with it, timed perfectly with the upward jolt of your hips into his hardening cock. It's Eddie’s turn to gasp— his rushes out hot and quick, as if from a gut-punch. 

He's fighting for his life trying to steady his voice, act casual. “Usually, I get my mouth on your first.”

With that, he closes the gap again, but this time pulls away with a wet smack, a kiss so brief you’re compelled to chase him and get your licks in.

“Then, my hands,” he says, as he closes his fingers around as much of you as he can grasp with each hand to squeeze. Its at once electrifying and comforting, leaning into him and running from the cold. You want him pressed against you completely, but he's focused on the pillows of supple skin and heat in his hands.

“Promise,” he chokes, “ahhh, promise to tell me if it hurts, angel?”

“Eddie, touch me— I promise— touch me,” you positively beg, and your Eddie, egged on by your fingers now pulling deliciously at the hair on his sensitive nape, recovers fast. He’s on you before he can take his next breath in, and bites down around your bottom lip, pushing you with him gently as he leans forward, mashing your noses together.  

And you kiss Eddie back, hard, sucking his trembling lip between yours and earning yourself a groan that sends a lovely buzz through your jaw where you meet. That fucking noise, and his hand still on you, now not as gentle, sending little shocks of pleasure as he swipes gently along the outer dark ring crowning your nipple. The skin there is tightening, growing impossibly sensitive, and each brush and nudge shocks you between your clamped thighs, makes your body rock a little, sending kinetic energy across you that has him enthralled. So much evidence of his effect on you, the movement anchors him to reality.

"Good?"

"Really good, Eddie, yeah." You squirm under him as he massages one side, then both, then rests his forehead against yours to gaze down, intent on his project. 

“You feel good too, angel,” Eddie groans again, enjoying himself in earnest, crowding you gently together, then letting each breast roll in his hands, rough digits brushing in tandem against beads so taut it almost hurts, so intense its almost too much, but you need more.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” You ask him in a pant, breathless and focused– you need him between your legs too, and desperately, so you nudge one of his, asking to widen so you can rearrange. Eddie obliges, planting one solid knee right against your aching core and letting you fall back, propped up on both elbows. 

Neither of you wastes a second. This kiss is a hot, wet collision of sighs and spit, grinding sloppily into each other through just too many layers of sweet, stiff friction, whining into each other’s open mouths. 

While you nearly lift your hips off the floor, chasing the worn denim between your legs, tension in your lower gut building faster than it ever has alone, Eddie rides your linen-covered thigh just above your bent knee, murmuring between love-bites to your chin, the chubby apple of your grinning cheek, then the crook of your neck, where he finds and then latches onto a spot that makes you seize under his weight, clamping your thighs around the one at the very center of your focus. 

You clasp a hand at the back of his head again, scratching a bit at his neck and forcing a long shaky sigh out of his mouth as the rhythm of his swirling hips grows rough, devolves into a stuttering staccatto race to the finish, and he’s talking himself through it into your shoulder as you barrel him down.

Ed's heaving whines are gorgeous, ragged, as he sighs into your neck about how good you feel under him. He can’t finish a sentence as he groans into your shoulder, all about how good you smell, how he can’t believe you did this for him, how badly he wants to taste them. 

“Taste? I,” you cut yourself off with a near-panicked whine when his leg slinks heavily down, the relief of his wet but still straining crotch-tent another brief sliding kiss against your now soaking cunt, and you resist seizing him by the scalp, to keep him up with you, but only just. You’re both so close; he’s stalling?

No, tasting.

Through your horny fog, your mind starts to process his goal. Eddie works his body down yours urgently, never really breaking contact, and as he slips away all you can do is watch him watch you.

In a thrall, as he draws a scalding trail of open-mouth kisses down the heaving swell of your exposed breasts. The wet kisses cool fast in the chilly air of his room, and it feels so good you don’t care how needy your sighs sound, how obscene and high your breaths echo in your own ears. Then he pauses in his descent to admire you again, breaking eye contact for a few awe-struck moments, dropping a chaste peck just left of the left nip, then resting his forehead on your sternum. When he fully squishes your tits into his cheeks it makes you laugh out loud, and you feel his smile and then chuckle against your stomach.

He seems to paise there for a few moments, content to nuzzle, and your high whine-sigh takes even you off guard. Eddie looks up at the sound but stops himself saying whatevers on his mind. Instead, he double-takes between your mouth and chest once, and again, then and finally asks, “sweetheart?”

He’s got that look like he’s up to something, and you can’t say you mind it. 

Eddie drags his lovely nose across the wide valley between your bust, your shoulders cave a bit with the shiver, and he continues, “can I?”

Taste. Yes, “please, Eddie, yeah,” and he closes his hot mouth over one hard bead, swirling that devilish tongue around and over, knocking it roughly enough to pull a harsh hiss from between your clamped teeth. Your hands are both in his hair again, and in a little pain you pull at his sensitive scalp and feel the buzz of his moaning around you, closing the little pleasure circuit between you.

You feel every wet swipe of tongue like a brand, on your sensitive chest and melting, shocks of heat driving down in your sex, chasing the pressure and pushing your body into his chest where he lays against you. 

One of his hot hands mimics his mouth’s rhythm on the other tit, and the lewd sounds of his deep moans around you are only matched by the obscene slick of his hand finding the soaked core of you under his torso, his fingers tingling over the used cotton.

You nod assent before he can even ask, catching his eyes as he pulls away from your chest to check on you. He finds your open pant, you low lidded attention on only him, and smiles. Then, he grinds his own hips into your leg where he straddles it, lower than before, moaning again around your mound and sucking this time, a new kind of pressure that pulls the neediest cries from you yet. His fingers finally breach your underwear from the side, and the calloused contact jolts you to the precipice, climax just within reach now that your clit has direct, emphatic attention. 

His tongue swirls faster, and Eddie matches that pace with his slick fingers between your cunt lips, circling the trigger and nudging just the top of your gasping hole, pace quickening, just what you're begging him for. Your free leg hitches around his back and pulls him into you, then you clamp up and pull hard at the hair in your grasp, gasping his name over and over as you come shaking, curling around his head, pussy drooling on his rings and wrist, hips frantic in their desperate chase for friction. 

Eddie’s not far behind, rhythm incomprehensible as he’s distracted by his own big finish. He bites down almost too hard around your breast and fucks down onto your trapped leg, groans buzzing through you as he drools and sputters and comes a warm wet mess into the washed-out black. 

The grey light is blinding, you can’t open your eyes at first. But you start to collect yourself when you feel him pull off, sliding his hand slowly out of your panties. You open your eyes to him watching you again, eyes half closed, to him catching his breath, and with no regard for the mess on his hand he gathers your collar in his fist and hauls you forward for another kiss, other hand tucked in the soft folds of your waist, grasping, clutching, pulling you in.

“Ouch.” You say, with no heat at all. 

As he scoffs, Eddie slinks back down again to kiss it better, another gentle peck just to the side of the most sensitive bud of your breast where he sucked and nibbled hard enough to bruise. Just a pinch, indeed.

“Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” he promises, only a little sarcastic, and finally rounds his mouth around your right nipple, which he had neglected until now. 

Then, you hear the slightest crunch. Like crumbs rubbing together.

Eddie smacks his lips a couple times, tasting, considering.

"Salty," he says. No way.

Oh, god, no. No fucking way. He still licking you clean but you freeze, then he does, but Eddie, knowing exactly what he just set you up for, loses it. He buries the cackle in your tummy as it dawns on you, and you do some quick math– you last showered this morning, which means you last soaked your piercing this morning, maybe 10 hours ago.

Eddie crawls back up your body as you wail, “ohhh, my God, Munson, why would you—? I cannot–” and lands eye-level, with you spent and boneless on your back, him in a table-top pose, arms propped by your shoulders. 

He hadn't been neglecting your other side, he had been saving it.

10 hours. More than enough time for new “crusties” to form, so more than enough time to build your own nightmare from natural scratch. And he didn’t hesitate, or mention it at all, that your piercings were clearly crusted over as part of the usual healing process, he just sucked them off anyway like they were in the way.

“You– absolute– freak! Eddie what the fuck! Did you fucking eat it? Are you insane?”

“What? I helped! And it’s probably, like, I don’t know, nutritious somehow. Protein?” He shrugs, smirking in the face of your horror, your embarrassment. You hadn’t thought to look at your own tits when the idea of his eyes on you had been more than enough to deal with.

You punctuate every few words with sharp shoves, which barely register as nudges to him from your angle, still under him, fighting his weight and gravity itself. Little by little, he sinks against them, and you tire yourself out before his chest traps your arms between the two of you.

“You– sicko, I didn’t– give you permission– to snack on me.”

“You even said ‘please,’ sweet heart, no take backs. I believe they’re my boogers now.” His smile is just content now, mischief subsumed by all the love in his eyes. You were in his mouth; now you’re on your way through his system. He thinks its romantic.

He ate it. Like a weird pet left unattended too long, he saw something new and simply put his mouth on it. Your-- friend? hardly, you think-- Eddie Munson just ate the new piercing boogers off you, straight from the source as he came in his jeans. You don’t even know what to do, so bewildered you shove his shoulders and chest as rough as he’ll allow before he seizes your wrists and pins you again, only this time, your tits are still out. 

“Without full knowledge, that’s twisted– you’re sick.” Your smile betrays you. What a weirdo, sure, but who else would full-send like that? You can’t think of anyone you’ve dated– anyone you’ve let touch you– that has ever been so close, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet. 

God, what a freak– your freak, you think with a thrill.

“Yeah yeah, heard it before."

Its quiet for a bit as you stare at each other, smiles crooked and soft.

"Well. Cat’s out of the bag?”

“Seems that way.” So, there's your "what are we" convo' all sorted.

“Good. So you know— " Eddie ducks his head to tap his nose against yours, then pulls back again to hover a little closer than before, "clothes are no longer an option.”

“What. The hell are you saying.”

“I'm saying,” he whispers, suddenly against your ear, dragging out each syllable, and slides his thumb and it's cool bat ring now poking out of a soft fist across your collarbone and up your shoulder, just to see you shiver again, just to watch you shake.

“hu-.. what, Munson, spit it out!” Now, you grab him by both wrists, and the quick movement brings his eyes to your tits again, gold titanium winking in the gray light. The soft wave of your body warms his core. He's half-hard already just watching you move.

“Too late, ha.” You groan, still grossed out, and anticipating this, he groans with you, mocking. You feel it through your own chest, feel it down your pinned leg.

Then, Eddie’s voice is soft too, at once dreamy and deadly serious, when he says, “You,” drops a kiss on one shoulder, “were so, so right,” and another on the other, “you won't need clothes ever again.” 

—--------------—

Its only days later, your next day off, when your favorite metalhead greets you at your front door. You don’t even have time to say hello before he’s flashing you; Eddie yanks his shirt up, fast as he can, to show off two glinting barbells, twin gold angel wings framing each nipple, still red and a little swollen from the piercing.

He beams at you, proud of the shock written all over your face, and before you can recover, cradles your face with one ringed hand and swoops in to plant one on your open mouth, grinning all the while. 

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National  Museum of Art]

Ace: Huuuh, so this museum's been open for 100 years, huh. It's got some pretty cool exhibits.

Ace: Tryin' to appreciate art just seems boring, and I totally thought bein' a supporter was not my bag, but I might be able to enjoy myself here after all.

Ace: ―Ooh, found me the painting of some card soldiers! Look at 'em, all cool the way they're standing at attention like that.

???: Mhm, their perfectly aligned call to attention is quite the spectacle.

Ace: Ah, hey, Lilia-senpai. You must have great taste to see the true quality of this painting here! Haha.

Ace: If the rank and file are in disarray, then it doesn't look good at all. They gotta be in perfect formation, especially when marching.

Lilia: That's correct. So, you understand what it means to march as they do… Not bad, kid.

Ace: Not that much. I mean, back in my dorm, we just have certain days that all the students are required to march in formation.

Lilia: Kufufu, I heard that practice for that begins as soon as you enter. I've heard many a classmate complaining about it here and there.

Ace: Yeaaaaah, I can see why they'd want to complain. It's not just the Housewarden; even our usually nice upperclassmen come down on us hard during the training.

Ace: The first time I had to march after joining the dorm was the worst. We definitely looked nothing like the card soldiers in this art piece.

Ace: When we looked at the video that Cater-senpai took for us, we could see that the first years' walking was ALL OVER THE PLACE.

Ace: Every one of 'em couldn't get their arms and legs up and moving properly, and they were all looking down. It was sooo lame. I couldn't even laugh at how bad it was.

Ace: By the by, I got praised pretty much right out the gate ♪ They all said that my spirit fully embodied the heart suit card soldiers.

Ace: It's easy for me to just copy what I see the upperclassmen are doing, or what the video's showing. I don't get why all the rest of them were havin' a bad time.

Lilia: OHO～～～?

Ace: Eh? What's with that grin? You're kinda giving me the creeps all of a sudden.

Lilia: How rude of you to call someone as cute as me creepy! But aren't you actually quite the diligent one.

Ace: DILIGENT!? I don't think that word suits me at all!?

Lilia: Not only did you follow the examples set by your upperclassmen, you also watched went further and watched the videos and practiced on your own… I'm seeing you in a whole new light, Ace.

Ace: Ahh, c'mon. Stop patting my head like that. It's not like I was trying to study for it or anything.

Ace: It woulda been a pain and pretty lame if I had to stay behind to practice. That's why I just wanted to get it done ASAP. That's all!

Lilia: It's nothing worth getting all worked up to deny.

Lilia: I think it's rather commendable that you put in the extra effort in order to seek what you think is "cool."

Ace: I'm not getting worked up…! Wait, I got a feeling that if I keep responding, he'll just keep stringing me along to tease me.

Ace: Uh, I'm gonna go to check out the cool-lookin' painting over there!

Lilia: Hey now, don't leave me behind. Kufufu, this must be that adolescence I've heard much about.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: Let me see, what cool painting were you talking about… Oho, it's of the King of Beasts. He looks oh so dignified, I can't help but find it charming.

Ace: Aaand he followed me… But yeah, I definitely agree that's he's pretty dignified.

Lilia: There are many legends swirling around the King of Beasts. Just from looking at this painting, I can't think of which scene they're trying to depict here.

Ace: Uhhh, based on this info they got plastered next to it…

Ace: Looks like… Oh, it's where he was talking about his vision for the country's future with his hyena retainers.

Ace: I actually really like the story of how the King of Beasts would always trust in his hyenas.

Ace: Oh yeah, and that one where he performed songs for his people!

Lilia: Mhm, that's a good one. He is a sophisticated king indeed to utilize singing to vow to improve his country.

Ace: Riiiiight～? Totally get why the hyenas were so excited that they were singing and dancing all through the night.

Ace: The King of Beasts looks pretty unapproachable from just a glance, but he must have had a ton of charisma.

Lilia: Well, he did have the power to move his people's hearts through song. If he had his due, perhaps he would have been able to sway the whole world with his song.

Ace: Totally. If I had lived during the same era, I would have loved to go and karaoke with him.

Lilia: Speaking of karaoke… I heard you and Sebek went for that.

Ace: Ah, did you hear that from Sebek? We went with Deuce and the two from Ramshackle…

Ace: Jack and Epel also tagged along. But maan, it was pretty insane.

Ace: So many of them were new to it, so I had to teach them everything, from how to choose a new song, to ordering food. You'd think they'd have common sense to figure out, but c'mon.

Ace: We literally couldn't sing a single song for the first 30 min or so, I was like, what did we even come here for!?

Lilia: Kufufu, now, now, you can't say that. I'm sure there's things you're not familiar with, too.

Ace: But c'mon～ …Well, I guess it was kinda fun to have a small competition using the karaoke's scoring system.

Lilia: So, you had a karaoke competition! I would love to tag along next time. So, who won?

Ace: Well, that's obvious… IT WAS YA BOY ACE-KUN HERE!

Ace: When I hit 100 points, everyone was lookin' up at me like idiots, all like, "you gotta be kidding!"

Ace: As a bit of a handicap, I chose of the recent viral songs and did the dance that went along with it, too～

Lilia: Oho, that's amazing that you can sing while moving your body without missing a beat.

Ace: I mean, unlike those guys, back in middle school I would go karaoke a lot.

Ace: And all those guys kept shouting that they'd practice singing so they could sing next time, but y'know…

Ace: There's actually a trick to getting the high score on that machine's scoring function. It's not enough to just be a good singer.

Ace: At this rate, I think I'll be taking home the win next time too ♪

Lilia: Kufufu, looks like even the ones who don't get to spend that much time together with you all had some fun, eh?

Ace: Well, I guess it wasn't too bad.

Ace: They'd choose stuff like old songs that were popular during my parent's heyday, or minor folk songs…

Ace: It was kinda neat that I heard a ton of songs that I normally wouldn't listen to. It was completely different to how it'd be if I was with my friends back home.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Ace: This painting is of those eels that served the Sea Witch…

Lilia: Mhm. It's said that whenever they found merfolk in distress, they would encourage them to seek the guidance of the benevolent Sea Witch.

Ace: Huuh, they look kinda scary, but… Guess you can't judge a book by its cover.

Lilia: Speaking of… Ace, I heard you went a little viral on Magicam the other day.

Ace: Geh! So, you saw that post too…

Lilia: Kufufu, I took it all in.

Lilia: "This scary-looking young man in a flashy shirt was kind to a kid in this burger shop," it said.

Lilia: You did a good thing, Mister "Scary-Looking Young Man in a Flashy Shirt."

Ace: C'mon, can you not tease me!?

Ace: The comments section was going wild with stuff like, "I love that personality gap～" and "The scarier the person looks, the softer their heart is."

Ace: I definitely don't like people just deciding that I'm scary just from how I look, or just assuming that I'm nice.

Ace: More like, I think it was 'cause I was with all my basketball teammates that I ended up looking scary too.

Ace: And 'sides, that patterned shirt I was wearing wasn't even something I'd pick out on my own.

Ace: Floyd-senpai made me buy it sometime back, so I thought it'd be bad if I didn't wear it, that's all…

Lilia: Hm, guess it was a mistake of them to comment on your appearance, then. But it was true that you were nice to the kid, right?

Ace: Nope. I just was throwing something I didn't want at 'em!

Lilia: You gave them something you didn't want…? So how does that turn into being "kind" to the kind?

Ace: So, when my clubmates and me went to the burger shop down in town, we got a free card with our orders.

Ace: Something about how they were doing a collaboration campaign with a movie that was recently released.

Ace: I at least knew what the movie was, so I opened it up, but just as I was thinking to myself that I didn't really need a card, or anything…

Ace: This kid who was nearby just randomly started crying. Apparently they wanted a hero card, not a villain card.

Ace: That's why I just gave him the card I had. It just happened to be the one he wanted.

Ace: I was able to get rid of something I didn't want, and I didn't have to listen to the sound of crying in the background. Win-win, right?

Lilia: Well, when you explain it like that, it definitely no longer feels like a heartwarming story.

Ace: Riiight? But then all the folks on Magicam had to go and try to treat me like a nice guy. Everyone's been teasing me about that too…

Ace: In the end, even the Headmage got wind of the video and just wouldn't stop praising me, saying "This is a fantastic thing you've done!"

Ace: Maan, preconception can be a crazy thing. I bet if I was wearing my school uniform, it definitely wouldn't have taken off.

Ace: They say that it's not all about appearance, but I guess that first impression you get is still important.

Lilia: Kufufu, I bet if the parents of that child were to hear your true feelings about it, they'd be shocked.

Lilia: Well then, I think I'll go on to check out the other exhibits. Bye then, Ace.

Ace: Whew, Lilia-senpai just couldn't stop teasing, huh. Wellll, what should I go and look at next…? Hm?

Ace: Woah, it's a painting of a walrus and the oysters. Lookin' at it here, the walrus really looks like a proper gentleman.

Ace: I bet those oysters were also tricked by how the walrus looked. Can't help but feel sorry for them… Heh.

Requested by Anonymous.

[vodika-vibes]

hiiii and congrats on 500+ followers!! i was wondering if could request a topaz with wrecker in the spring? he does not get enough love which is a massive shame. also i desperately want this man to hug me. hope you have a lovely day!!

Heartbeat

Summary: Wrecker loves you, and you love him. It’s really not that complicated.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x Reader

Word Count: 562

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you! I hope you like your story! I think it's cute, and it has the hugs you wanted~

“Is this the place, Firefly?” Wrecker asks as he looks around the field of wildflowers.

You beam at him, “Yep! Isn’t it peaceful?” You ask as you twirl on your toes in the flowers, “And look at how many flowers have already bloomed!”

“You chose a good time to come out here.” Wrecker agrees. He looks around for a moment, before finding a spot without any flowers, and he sets all of the stuff he’s carrying on the ground. It’s not a lot, just a picnic basket and a blanket, but there was no way that he was going to ask you to carry anything.

“Here, let me help!” You chirp as you hurry to his side and reach for the blanket. 

Wrecker catches your hand with his own, and he brings your fingers to his lips, pressing a feather light kiss against the pads, “I have it, firefly.”

“Aww, you don’t even need a little help?”

“You can be my emotional support,” Wrecker teases, as he unrolls the blanket with a snap and spreads it out on the ground, “There. Done.”

“How do you manage to make that look so easy?” You ask as you allow him to help you down onto the blanket.

“They taught us on Kamino,” Wrecker says solemnly, though there’s a wide grin on his lips, “Right between armor maintenance and bomb disposal lessons.”

You giggle, “Oh? Did they also teach you how to kiss? Because you’re really good at that.”

“Oh, no Firefly. That’s all me.”

A proper laugh falls from your lips, “Well, I definitely appreciate it.” You beam at him as he folds himself on the blanket next to you, his arms opening to allow you to climb into his embrace. 

Wrecker gives the best hugs. You’ve always thought so, and now that you’re dating you know that you’re right. He wraps his whole body around you when he’s hugging you, and rather than feeling smothered, you just feel safe and cherished.

You lay your head against his chest, shifting just enough that your ear is pressed over his heart, and your eyes shut as you listen to his heartbeat.

Strong and solid and steady.

Just like your Wrecker.

His hand smooths down your back, “Listening, firefly?”

“Mm.”

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”

You shift again to look up at his handsome face, “Would that be so bad?”

His hand comes up to brush against your cheek, “There are better places to sleep than the ground. Besides, if you’re asleep then we can’t talk. And I can’t kiss you.”

“Oh no, you poor thing.” You hook your arms around his neck and slide up his body so that your lips are hovering over his, “We can’t have that now can we?”

Wrecker chuckles, “You spoil me,” He says before he catches your lips with his own.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” You counter against his lips, “Love you, Wreck.”

He pulls away, just enough that he’s able to look at you properly, and the look of adoration on his face, makes your face heat and makes you hide your face in his shoulder. Wrecker laughs, “I love you so much, firefly. I can’t even put it into words.”

And when he gently repositions you so that you’re able to kiss him again, well, who are you to deny him?

[yeoja-dream]

Intertwined

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: BTS OT7 X Reader 

Genre: Fantasy, Magic, Eventual Smut, Plot, slight slow burn

Characters: Vampire!BTS, Elf!Reader

Content Warning: none 

Word Count: 4.3k

You finally wake when the rays of the late morning sun warm your face and hurt your eyes. You sat up groggily, rubbing the sleep from them with balled fists. Unwillingly, the events of last night flood your barely continuous mind. The memories have you kicking at your sheets with frustration. 

“What was his issue anyway?” You complained out loud. Maybe you’d never get to know. At least I get to say I’ve both instructed and kissed a member of BTS, you attempted to reason. The thought brings you little comfort. 

While you set something fragrant to boil on the stove, you checked your phone, finally, scrolling through dozens of missed notifications due to your late slumber. Habitually, you checked for new work emails, the top of which gave you immediate pause. “SUBJECT: I’m sorry. SENDER: KIM SEOKJIN. You’ve got to be kidding me.” You laughed incredulously. 

Dear Y/N, 

Firstly, I would like to apologize for contacting you via your work email. In my rush to leave last night, I forgot to exchange more proper means of contact. I would also like to apologize for my behavior. I understand that it must have been, in a word, confusing. If you would be kind enough, I would greatly appreciate the chance to explain myself properly in person. The issue is more complicated than I have a great understanding of, so I would also like to bring Namjoon who has a better understanding of the circumstances. However, I wouldn’t want to impose or make you feel like you were being ganged up on. 

Please understand we will take no further action with you, and should to ignore this correspondence we will take it as your disinterest in the subject matter and we will leave you alone. 

Best, 

Kim Seokjin 

“Jeez, this guy is uptight.” You mumbled, reading the message in totality. You sighed, sitting back in your rickety kitchen chair. Confusing is an understatement. You thought to yourself. But you also couldn’t deny that curiosity clawed at your insides. You sipped your hot, spiced cider, the taste giving you comfort and confidence. Something is telling me to hear them out, Dad. You thought to yourself. I just hope the cinnamon is enough.

Dear Kim Seokjin,

Sending emails is cumbersome, so here is my cellphone number. Text me whenever you’d like. 

Thank you for apologizing. I will decide whether or not I accept it after our meeting. It may be sudden, but I took the day off of work today. If today does not work, you can make arrangements with me after the studio closes every day at 10 pm. 

Best, 

Y/N

You type the email and hit send before you can overthink it too much. What makes a man go from ready to take you on the floor to running out the door you couldn’t fathom, but you certainly looked forward to finding out. 

It was about 2 hours later your phone buzzed with a notification, a text this time. 

Hello, this is Jin. We all have schedules this morning, but Namjoon and I will be finished around 5 pm. Is it alright if I go ahead and make dinner reservations? Is there any place you like in particular?

Dinner reservations? You mused to yourself. That sounded formal, more formal than you were comfortable with. Dinner reservations were for dates, of which this meeting was certainly not. 

Dinner is fine, but there is no need for reservations. I’m in the mood for Mediterranean tonight, so you can meet me at Olive and Thyme at 7. You replied. 

Your phone buzzed again soon after sending. 

Olive and Thyme at 7. We will be there. Thank you. 

At that you tossed your phone to the other side of the couch, settling back into the cushions, zoning out to whatever insane dating reality TV show was on. Speculation is going to get me nowhere. You reminded yourself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while since you had a reason to get dressed up, you realized as you curled your freshly washed and dried hair. Except the concert you had attended just 2 days prior, you could list the occasions you had to dress up for in the last 20 years on one hand. The thought makes you sad. 

Your theme is cute but casual, you reminded yourself as you selected your pair of favorite high-waisted jeans, a plain crop top to match, and a light jacket to go over. There was also no need to go overboard with makeup, a little bit of skin tone-flattering eyeshadow, mascara, and a pink lipgloss would be plenty. 

Of course, you didn’t forget about your ears. You’d had the pointy pains in the ass your whole life, and as such, you had discovered dozens of ways to hide them away. Your hair was down today, so pinning them back with a dab of spirit gum on the back side of each was more than enough coverage. 

You stood back, admiring your handiwork in a standing mirror in your bedroom. Cute and casual, you decided. It was while looking at your reflection, that you also realized how remarkably well you had been taking things. Just two days ago, you were a faceless fan in a sea of other fans. You were meant to enjoy a fun performance and return to your daily life, and yet impossibly, not but 24 hours later, the oldest of BTS was running out of your dance studio after a steamy make-out session, and now supposedly wanted to meet up to discuss something cryptic. It was absurd, anyone would agree. Even in your most delusional of fantasies you couldn’t have dreamed up something more ridiculous. Maybe that was what was keeping you calm, sane. Maybe this was all just a crazy dream. 

The time to leave fast approached, and with those lingering questions you found yourself in the back of an Uber on your way to destiny. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The interior of the restaurant was dated in its decor and sparsely populated, even when it was time for the dinner rush. You were the first one there, the aromatic smell of spices and wine hit you like a wall causing your stomach to clench painfully in hunger. The hostess was a small, mousey woman, who upon your request, sat you in one of the booths on the far side corner of the restaurant, more privacy, you figured. 

Quickly the cool-headedness you were able to maintain from the safety of your home gives away to waves upon waves of anxiety. Bouncing your legs and chewing your nails was all you could do to relieve some of the pent-up nervousness as the seconds felt like hours. You cursed yourself silently for needing to arrive early. 

Your suffering is somewhat short-lived, however, and as the clock hit 7:00 on the dot, the bells on the entrance door chimed as two handsome, well-groomed men walked in. It was easy to identify the pair as your evening guests. 

They were nicely dressed in outfits not dissimilar to your own. They too spotted you easily, and with a swagger in their walks that made you need to look away, they both slid next to one another in the seats opposite to you. It was weird, though. Having both THE Kim Seokjin AND Kim Namjoon sitting across from you should make you feel 10x more anxious than you had before, and yet, slowly, you felt the tension in your shoulders come to dissipate, and when you really focused, the buzzy, electrical feeling from the previous night was becoming more and more prominent. 

“Thank you for meeting us,” Jin took the lead. “This is Namjoon.” 

You cracked a smile. “I know.” 

“Well, I didn’t want to presume…” Jin trailed off embarrassed. You didn’t think you had ever seen Jin get embarrassed before, it was cute. 

“Hi,” Namjoon said, offering his hand to you. You took it, and before you could greet him back, the very same warm, tingly sensation zipped up your hand and down your spine. Your smile quickly faded as you found yourself needing to grip the table to reorient yourself. 

“Woah…” you breathed, shaking your head to clear some of the building haze. 

The two boys looked at each other, then back to you. 

“We’re going to talk about that, actually,” Namjoon said. “But first let's put our orders in.” 

It was easy enough to flag down a waitress and place your orders. Small talk was easy to pass the time until your meals were served.

“So…” you began, picking at your salad. “Every time I touch you guys I get a weird feeling, whenever I am around you guys I get a different weird feeling, and at least Jin was acting weird around me.” 

The pair sat back in the booths and sighed, before looking to one another. 

“I’ll start,” Namjoon said. “What do you know about soulmates?” 

“Basically what everyone else knows.” You stated. “One true love and all that. Although…” you trailed off. You triggered a memory, distant at first but grows with clarity when you concentrate on it. 

“Daddy, what’s a soulmate?” You asked, book in hand, curled up in your reading nook in his laboratory. 

“Well I suppose that depends on who you ask,” He said, not pausing from his work. “If you ask most people, I think they would tell you that it was someone they love a lot, or maybe someone who they feel like they’ve known for longer than they’ve actually known them.” 

“Hmm.” You responded. “What if I don’t ask most people?” 

“Hm?” Your dad asked, confused. 

“Well, you said if I asked most people, that they would say all that. What if I don’t ask most people.” 

“Ah,” He said, holding up two liquids seemingly comparing them. “Well, some other people would tell you that soulmates are different than just people you love a lot. They would tell you that souls are real, and when a soul is created, it is created alongside another. Usually, they are created in pairs, but it's not unheard of for them to be created in groups larger than that. Each soul is placed in a different vessel, but it will always pine for the soul it was created with.” 

“Woah…” You respond in awe. “What happens when you meet your soulmate?” 

“They say when you meet your soulmate, you’ll just know.” He said, notating something down in his journal. “Your soul calls out to theirs, long lost lover and friends reuniting after millennia. You burn and ache for the other until your souls are finally tied in a tying ritual. The tying ritual gives you a bond that you can communicate simple ideas or feelings over.”  

“Wow! What kind of ritual do you have to do?” You asked, curiously. 

“Oh well,” he paused from his work, looking away. “It is a bit too complicated for you now, but when you get older I will explain.”

“Do I have a soulmate?” 

“Of course, you have a soul don’t you?” 

“Ew. I don’t want a soulmate, Daddy.” 

He laughed at you, walking over to you to pat your head. 

“I’m afraid there are just some things in life that we cannot control, Pumpkin. Besides, I’m not going to be around forever, and it makes me feel better that you’ll have someone to keep you company someday.”

“Nooo!” you whined. “Who else is going to make strawberry rhubarb pie with dinosaurs? You have to stay around forever, okay Daddy?” 

He laughed at you again, kissing the top of your forehead before returning to his work. “Sure thing, princess.” 

You shake your head bringing you back to the present as the memory flicked by. “Souls are created alongside other souls and put inside of people who then spend their whole lives looking for each other and once you find the person you just know and you can tie the souls together and they’ll be happily ever after.” You summarized from your memory. 

“Pretty much,” Namjoon said. “I was worried you were completely unaware. Have you ever met anyone you felt that way about?” 

“Like just knowing? Not really.” You admitted with a shrug. You had loved before, certainly, but you guessed that soul mates were something bigger, much more profound. Someone you loved and knew deeper than summer romances and puppy love. 

“We have,” Jin spoke up this time. 

“Oh,” You said, eyebrows coming together in confusion. 

“But I kissed you, you must be now wondering,” Jin said. You nodded slowly in response. 

“When you are near me, what sensations do you feel?” He asked. 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. “I feel like there is a current running through me, and the more I spend time with you and the closer in proximity to you I get, the stronger the feeling gets. My brain gets dizzy and hazy like I’ve had a few glasses of wine, and yet my acuity is still razor sharp. And when I touch you, it feels… weird.” You confessed. When I touch you it feels really good and it makes me want to touch you endlessly you added in your mind. 

They shared a knowing glance before Namjoon spoke. “THAT is the feeling. THAT is knowing.” 

“Huh?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I thought knowing was more of an abstract concept, like wow it feels like I have known this person my whole life, I think I want to marry them someday.” 

“In the movies, absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “But those feelings are your soul, physically calling out to ours.” 

“You’re kidding.” You said, unbelieving. 

“Let me ask you this then,” Namjoon begins. “Yesterday when you were kissing Jin hyung, I bet it felt so, incredibly right, right?” 

You looked at Jin. If you could be honest with yourself, you wanted to climb over this table and kiss him again. Maybe then he’d bend you over the table and take you right here, Namjoon’s hands on you helping bring you to completion- you cut yourself off before the thought can continue further. 

Namjoon looked at you knowingly. 

“So if I am to believe that what you are saying is correct, I am the soul mate to both of you.” You asked, matter of fact. 

“We are suggesting that you are all of our soulmates,” Jin stated, looking at you seriously. 

“As in, all 7 of you.” You asked again matter-of-factly.

They nodded in response. 

You laughed, exasperated. “Bring out the cameras because this is un-fucking-believable. This has to be a joke.” 

The serious expression on both of the boys’ faces says otherwise.

“I know this must be a lot to take in,” Jin said honestly. “It was a lot for me as well. And the others.” 

“What?” You asked, confused again. 

They share a look and Namjoon nods encouragingly before Jin speaks again. 

“We are actually all mated to each other, all 7 of us.” 

“Wow,” you breathed. “You guys are as close as you portray online.” 

The pair chuckle at that. 

“Me and Yoongi found each other first and from there we found different members at different times. Every member struggled with it in different ways, so you probably aren’t alone in anything you’re feeling right now.” Namjoon said. 

“You said mated. What does it mean to be mated?” 

“Oh, it just means that we marked each other.” Namjoon rolled up his sleeves, showing off two gashes, dark in coloration one next to the other. “We all have one. You can either accept the pairing and become marked, or reject it and become a single soul.” 

“What is the marking process?” You ask.

“You don’t know?” Namjoon asks, before putting on a serious face. “In short it is a bonding ritual involving sex.” 

You flushed red at that notion. “So if I wanted to be marked by each of you I would have to…” You trailed off, imagery and fantasy flooding your brain causing you to snap your knees closed. Namjoon looked away, swallowing hard. 

“Yes,” Jin states plainly. “But there is a rejection process as well. None of us are familiar with it, but if that is the choice you’d want to make we’d happily assist you with that.” 

“We should be a little more clear with you as well,” Namjoon looks at you again. “You have full choice and freedom in this case, but ultimately, now that you have found your soulmates, the empty, hollow feeling you will have when we are apart, and the buzzy electric feeling when we are together will become more and more unbearable as time goes on and if you don’t make your choice at all, it will drive you mad.” 

“How long do I have to decide?” 

“A few days, a week at maximum.” He answered earnestly. 

“You are right this is a lot to take in.” You sighed heavily. “With all due respect, I know you based on some well-edited clips and your music. You are all attractive as hell don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know you, and intertwining your life with someone you have an entirely parasocial relationship with is, in a word, insane. And for you guys too, you don’t even know me. 

“That is true, but we didn’t know any of the members that well when we went through the mating ritual,” Namjoon said with a shrug. “Besides, did you really think the universe was so unkind as to leave you without a way to break the bond? People can change, become abusive and cruel, and with or without your partner's consent you can break the mating bond at any time.”

That brought you some comfort. At least there was an ejection seat if the shit hit the fan. 

“This is a lot to process,” you stated, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“I am the oldest, but I was the fourth to join,” Jin started. “When I found out I was pretty upset, I had a solid lifestyle going for me that I didn’t intend to give up.” 

“How did you overcome that?” You asked.

“It was Namjoon that convinced me,” he said, gesturing at the younger man. “He asked me to get to know them. That the divines or the universe or fate had good intentions and I would be sorry if I didn’t at least try.” 

“I was a bit heavy-handed and naive,” Namjoon cut in, embarrassed. 

“At any rate,” Jin continued, “I resolved to give it a month. I wanted to date them, get to know them, you know?” He laughed. “I think I barely made it a week. Something about the all-consuming pull of your soul is hard to resist.” 

“I bet…” was all you were able to mumble in response. “I feel bad,” You confessed. “About the whole getting-to-know-you thing.” 

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked. 

“I think it’s fairly obvious that I am a fan,” you began, “and while I can’t claim to know you, I would certainly argue that I know each of you just a little more than you know me.” 

“We have forever to get to know you,” Jin said with a wink. Namjoon elbowed him in response. 

“For starters, I’m sure you understand that our public personas are different than our public ones,” Namjoon began “But put more politely, Jin is correct. In the way that some humans go through with arranged marriages that sometimes work out, sometimes something bigger than us calls us to make a leap of faith and trust that it works out.” 

“That sounds like we are putting pressure on the situation. I think I speak for both of us when I say we meant to simply arm you with the most amount of information we can provide. Besides, on the getting-to-know-you front, we know more than you might think,” Jin said.

“Do tell.” You stated, raising an eyebrow. “It appears you somehow found out who I was, and further that I was a dance teacher.”

“I know you’re hiding some cute ears under all that hair,” Jin said with a lilt. 

You instinctively reached up to make sure they were still in place. “How could you possibly…” you mumbled. 

“The truth is,” Namjoon started, lowering his voice. “We aren’t exactly human either, and our, shall we call it, conditions, allow us to sense the energy of different creatures.” 

“So you’ve known the whole time?” You asked, flabbergasted. 

“Pretty much,” Jin stated. 

“Sorry, that's just like, probably my biggest secret and it is just out there so I’m a little off-put. Not that it’s your fault just, in conjunction with everything…” You trailed off. 

“We thought it important that you also knew,” Namjoon said. “That we are vampires.” 

“Vampires?” You repeated. “All of you?” 

“Yes,” He replied. 

“No wonder you are all so unearthly attractive,” you mumbled under your breath. 

They both chuckle at that. 

“When we meet a soulmate, sometimes something darker, more carnal comes out. Vampires, once they are connected with their mates, can only feed off of them. All other blood becomes a virulent poison, so everything in a vampire’s body commands them to claim and mark their mate as soon as possible. Prevents their only food source from walking away.” Namjoon stated. 

“That’s why I kissed you suddenly in the studio,” Jin explained. “It’s not that I didn’t want to already, but I had resolved to not make any physical contact with you until all of this had been laid out, but the way you were looking up at me, the feeling of your hand on my body, your smell in that warm, closed room…” he trailed off before clearing this throat. “It was too much to bear. It brought out that dark side and well, you were there. I’m sorry for doing that without giving you the proper context.” 

“It’s fine,” You admitted. “Truthfully, I wanted you to kiss me, and I enjoyed it.” I wanted you to do more, you thought to yourself. “I was more hurt and confused when you, superhumanly I am now realizing, left with barely a word.” 

Jin’s expression was nothing if not apologetic. “I realize that must have been upsetting, and again I’m sorry for that too.” 

“But wait,” You began, tilting your head to the side. “If you are all vampires and are mated to each other, then do you drink each other’s blood? Do you even have blood in your body to drink? And if a vampire can only feed from their soulmate once they’re found, what happens if rejection occurs?” 

“Yes and no,” Jin said. “It is actually a myth that vampires don’t have blood. The vampire toxin mutates the blood of the person being turned and makes it so it's the only way for the new body to get energy. Problem is, vampiric blood isn’t very nutritious and it takes forever to regenerate by itself, so we have to supplement with animal blood usually. It's barely edible, and not that much more nutritious but it's better than being dead.” 

“Fascinating,” You said. “The universe really fucked you all over making you all mates and vampires then, huh.” 

“Tell me about it,” said Namjoon. 

“Well, what about my other question?” You asked. 

They exchanged uncomfortable looks. 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Namjoon said gravely. 

“I thought we were being honest with each other?” You asked, feeling slightly frustrated. 

“We are, it’s just…” Namjoon sighed. “It would add stress to a stressful and confusing situation and I don’t want you to worry about it.” 

“Well, now I am worried!” You exclaimed. 

A few beats of silence passed between you all. 

“Just tell her, Joon,” Jin said. 

Namjoon sighed at that. “When a vampire is rejected, or when a vampire’s bond is severed, the vampire dies. Jin mentioned that we can subsist on animal blood for nutrition, but what he didn’t mention, is that the consumption of energy is also part of what vampires consume when they eat blood, and once you find your soulmate, it is only their energy you can subsist off of.” 

“So you’re saying…” You trail off, flabbergasted, before starting again. “You’re saying should I choose to reject you all, I am dooming you to starve to death and die.” 

“You understand why I was reluctant to tell you.” 

You put your head in your hands, head spinning with the information dump of the last hour. How could it be in just 48 hours you went from a passing fan to suddenly, apparently, being the deciding factor whether or not BTS dies? It was too much to handle, and with the added pressure, you felt like your head was going to explode. 

“I need time.” You managed to say. 

“Perfectly understandable,” The pair agreed. 

“I have to go, I think,” You said, starting to stand up. “It was lovely to meet you but being so close is messing with my mind a little.” 

“By all means,” Namjoon said. “Don’t worry about the check, it’s the least we can do.” 

“Okay, thank you.” You said, standing fully now. “You have my phone number, text me any time, I guess. Bye.” You began somewhat robotically walking away from the two men who had just turned your life upside down, out of the restaurant, and into the cool early night air. 

You walked for hours, the outside had always been a place of meditation and peace for you. Your mind swam, full of questions and concerns. On one side, your heart soared at the chance to be with BTS, by all appearances they were hot, funny, kind, and interesting people that just about anyone would sell their grandma to be with. On the other side, you worried. About how you didn’t really know them personally, how they didn’t know you, how stupid and impractical it was to make a life promise to someone you barely knew let alone 7 someones, and most importantly, it concerned you how loudly something deep within you called for you to accept them. Now, there was the added pressure of not killing them. If only you were here, you sighed inwardly. You’d tell me what I should do. 

Somehow, you found yourself full, your feet sore, and no closer to a conclusion. You collapsed on your bed, exhausted, sleep finding you and carrying you off as soon as your eyes closed.

[the-possum-writes]

can you do a marshall lee x male reader where he turns the reader into a vampire?

Vampire Bite

❥Character: Marshall Lee

❥Tags: sfw, established relationship, vampirism, comfort, male!reader

❥Synopsis: After sharing your human lifetime with Marshall Lee, you decided to take the next step in your relationship and seal the deal.

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

Marshall doesn't usually walk on land, but he's making an exception today as he pushes an elderly man in a wheelchair, the sun is still shining, and he's dressed appropriately in long gloves, a sunhat, and sunglasses.

"It's a beautiful day today, not a cloud in the sky." You smile tenderly as you take in the landscape around you.

"Yeah, we're fortunate." Marshall agrees, despite how vulnerable and exposed he feels, but he repeatedly tells himself that it's a special occasion.

He drives you down a wooden walkway that has deteriorated due to time and constant salty mist, but it is still stable enough to support your weight as he floats and pushes you instead. "Whoops," he says as the wheel collides with a rock. For a split second, you jump, readjusting yourself on the chair as your wrinkly hands fix the blanket on your lap.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you flew us there?" Marshall shakes his head when you bring it up.

"It's better this way; let's not rush it." he insists.

"If you say so." You drop the subject, taking his word for it, and enjoy the birds flying in the sunlight. The wooden walkway eventually turns into a dock, and you hear ocean waves crash against the wooden pillars; your eyesight has been failing you recently, but there's no denying the cool breeze against your skin and the enormous sun resting near the horizon.

"Marshall, look! We made it just in time!" As you point to the sunset, you jolt up excitedly, your voice gave out, and you soon found yourself coughing.

"I wouldn't want you to drown in your spit after walking you all the way here, so take it easy." He gives you a gentle pat on the back.

"That'd be a real bummer. Then again, Marsh, I do appreciate you doing this for me." Even though you have a few missing teeth, you give him a huge smile as your eyes squint up.

Marshall knows this is the same guy he fell in love with and refused to let go, no matter how many human years have passed and how much you have changed over the years. This fleeting mortality, though limited, is beautiful in his eyes, just as you are. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he says as he pats your shoulder. A kiss on the cheek would be more appropriate, but he doesn't want to get sunburned.

As the two of you reach the end of the dock, the vampire stops pushing your wheelchair and makes sure you're comfortable by plumping your pillow and covering you with your blanket. As he floats over your lap (to avoid hurting your legs), you extend your arms and hug him as if he were sitting on you. After that, the two of you don't say much, instead letting the sun hang loosely over the horizon as its last rays of sunlight reflect over the waves. A few minutes later, Marshall leaned into your shoulder, but when he felt your chest flutter, he turned to look at you and saw that you were quietly crying as the sun completely set.

"It's so pretty..." you mutter, sobbing softly.

"There's still time to go back," he says quietly, wiping your tears away with his cold gray fingertips.

You respond with a smile, rubbing your eyes. "I'm not changing my mind; I'm just glad to have shared my last sunset with you." With the sun gone, Marshall removed his hat and gloves to properly give you a comforting kiss on the lips, resting his forehead on yours as he says. "...I just want to give you the options I never had," he says, and you agree with him. The title of Vampire King was not something he chose, and what's to give you the opportunity to decline if you suddenly reconsidered.

But you made up your mind long ago.

"Will it hurt?" you ask, determined but nervously offering your neck to him.

"I'll try to make it quick... Like a hospital injection "He promises, softly kissing your neck.

"Glob, I hate injections." You huff, trying to relax.

"I know."

You jolt up in your seat as Marshall pierced your flesh and tried to keep you in place. Although it was quick, as Marshall said, your limbs gradually became cold, much like when your blanket fell off your bed in the winter. Sooner or later, your heart rate slows down, almost as if you're falling asleep. When you wake up, the world seems lighter; you're surprised to discover that this is because you're only a few feet off the ground, which causes you to panic. "Easy there, I got'cha!" You hear Marshall Lee's voice coming from the night sky and feel his hand grabbing your own.

Even though it's dark, you can see clearly without a light source, which is when you notice your hand's lack of wrinkles. Looking down at your body and touching your face to see how you unconsciously transformed yourself back to when you were the most comfortable in your mid 20's, no longer tired or with sore knees.

"I feel like I'm going to fly away like a balloon!" You sob, clutching Marshall like a lifeline.

Marshall's chest vibrates in laughter, securing you in his arms. "Relax, I'm a good teacher. I'll show you everything about being a vampire, for free." he winks.

"Are you sure? I'm a slow learner." you jest.

"Oh I'm sure, more than ever!"

[krewekreep]

After the Night: Chapter 3 (Flashback)

1.5K Words. Alucard X OC!Reader. Reader is non binary with a femme body. AU but contains lore from Castlevania & Castlevania: Nocturne. Takes place during the last episode and goes from there…

Angst, Estranged Lovers AU, Soulmate AU, Alucard is a reclusive, flirtatious snarky brat. Not 18+ yet but following chapters may and will be properly tagged as such. Soundtrack: Glass Animals - Hooves (just for the vibes tbh.)

“Alucard?” You burst outside into the garden, head thrown side to side looking for him. “Alucard!!” You ran about without any sight of him. Did he go to Town? Or did he just take one of those silent man strolls he was prone to doing randomly? You were stunned, confused, you needed to know if this was true.

“You’re about to make me lose my fucking mind…” you growled, your shoulders bunching in animalistic agitation. A letter arrived, a very disheveled letter of warm love and missing of Alucard. How whoever this was missed his kind countenance and thought of their old days traveling. How soon they would be in the area and hoped to see him again, acknowledging he had every right to deny them if he so chose to…since they seemingly left without regard for him. You whip your head to see him breaking through bushes of the forest nearing you.

“Ah,” he said. “Apologies, I was around back and had walked to the river to read. I heard you calling…” in his hand was a massive, beautiful ornate collection of the Divine Comedy, ever the lover of drama to the highest degree. “You sound bothered…” he was worried. He heard from when you began stomping inside to the hard push and whack of the doors opening.

“Yeah, as hell I am!” You were angry. Your eyes staring into him. He didn’t know whether to inquire more…or disappear. Already accustomed but weary of your casual ferocity. “Who the FUCK are Sypha…” which you said mockingly, “and Tretor?! Trevor?” He was absolutely dumbfounded. How did you know about them? Did they show up? Were they here? His heart beat sped up, thumping loudly. Your keen ears caught it, lowering your possessive gaze to leer at him. While you two have not consummated anything, you ended up staying a day, a few more days, then weeks.

Now you could say it was about a month and a half since he decided you weren’t a bother enough to send into the night. This was uncharacteristic of you, somewhat scary to him. He could only muddle his own mind over his yearning for them, how you even knew of them, and why you are so damn upset about it? He wanted to set his hand against your chest to calm you. He would not let them hurt you. He would not suddenly quick you out. He thought you afraid of being abandoned, a soft sweet truly considerate thought.

“Why the Fuck,” you pull out a bunched up and admittedly clawed couple page letter. His heart sank. Was that from them? Why was it in your hands? When did it arrive? What does it say??? Really Trevor and Sypha? His heart yearned soon becoming angered. “You read my correspondence without permission?” There was some heat in his tone. That which you did not appreciate. “I sure fucking did!” Why were you so angry? You had no right. You were nothing more than someone overstaying their welcome. You be well aware you not comparable enough to question him or insult them. He was tired of you for the day.

“Give me that,” he went to snatch the letter from you but you retreated, angrily jumping away from him. “They miss you. They care about you…,” now you were being mean. “Oh how they love you…but alone you are and alone you’ve been…” it was not your place, you wanted to shut up. But how could he care? How could he get mad at you when you could see through this bullshit a mile away. “You call me a swindler?? What in the hell would you consider this!!!” You were absolutely screaming at him now. Thumbing through the pages remembering an especially enraging part. Your voice again mocking the sincerity of the authors. “Oh how we were ignorant to leave you so alone. It is with deep regret we were so selfish and did not consider you.” He wanted to snatch the pages from you as rough as needed. Only he understands…that they mean it. They have to mean it. They are the truest, most loving people he’s ever met. Not their fault he just…didn’t fit into their plans. No, at all costs you would not besmirch them.

He walked down on you easily. You soon reclining back guarding the papers to your chest. You looked to a scowl that while abhorrent was nothing…you knew he didn’t have it in him to really manhandle you. But to your surprise you were grabbed roughly and brought close to his displeased grimace by the ruff of your blouse. You wanted to bite him, bite at him. This was unlike any other spat the two of you had. Both seething mere inches from each other’s face. How upset you were he was upset you were upset simply trying to protect him! How you overheard him talking to handmade dolls or to no one at all, full blown conversations where he’d reply on the others behalf! Your eyes began to water, you closed them snatching away from his grasp and rubbing them quickly. “Are they…the dolls you talk to?”

Alucard…was flabbergasted. He ashamed and caught…exposed and disgusted. He didn’t know how lonely he opens was. He thought he hid it well. He thought… “No, they are not.” He knew you didn’t believe him. He knew you knew better. When he hastily would put them away as you’d enter the library, long after you caught him talking for hours. How you began to interrupt him—join him with the express purpose of being a real person to he could communicate with. So he understands…he could talk to you…even if he didn’t and just sat in silence. Your presence was felt…and he was grateful. But it took time. Every time you interrupt him he felt caught and confused. If you only had needed food, a place to rest, clothes…why did you follow him around? You didn’t follow him…but you did keep up with his whereabouts as often as possible.

You curious of him. Admittedly saddened on his behalf by his decayed social state. How his unnecessarily upset introduction and continued short temper made all the more sense. How you could lay off of him, just a bit, cause some days his head was heavier than others. Some days he wouldn’t look up from the ground. And others you couldn’t get him to look away from the sky. Always somewhere else…when you were right there next to him, open and willing if he just looked at you instead of everywhere, everything else. “Is it true? Are they the dolls, Alucard.”

“You have no right to ask.”

“I do not. But that’s why I push the matter. You characterize me as sneaky and always lurking about! I do nothing of the sort…and how!!! How of this? Had they not done the same? Have they not known the same warmth of your kindness? Did I leave the minute I got what I wanted? Did I?!” You lamented with the tears finally falling. What you didn’t know is they hadn’t left as soon as they got what they wanted. He sincerely understood you even if he didn’t agree with how intense you were about it. You just didn’t know them…but…he evidently had hurt your feelings by treating you with a close contempt. How he hadn’t considered his own hypocrisy allowing you to stay here, attempting to make nice, while he acted as if you were a bother. Knowing he wasn’t bothered by you at all…just…thrown off.

You didn’t know what they all had gone through. You didn’t know they saved your life and plenty others. World Savers. You didn’t know how ungrateful and insulting you sounded. You just sounded extremely overly protective, possessive, offended, excluded. “How could anyone…abandon someone like you .” You cried into your arm, shielding yourself from his now guilty eyes.

“Please…” he reached for you, much gentler, much closer to who he really was. But you turned away. “Here,” you threw the papers in the air. “You want to eat up that crap? Go right ahead.” Turning on your heels heading towards the castle entrance. He leapt for them, somewhat embarrassed at his eagerness. You scoffed unamused, “and by the date it was signed…they’ll be here tonight or late morning. I’ll be gone. I do not plan to speak, play nice, or even thank whoever they are. I hate them.” How childish of you. He knew you didn’t mean that. There was no real way to hate anyone you didn’t know. But your hurt feelings, and the failure of just demanding he acknowledged you…burning a hole into your chest. You stormed inside without another word, muffling your crying. He heard you until you must’ve ascended the stairs deep into the foyer towards the bedroom you chose. Then, with the clawed, crumpled papers in his clutched hands, he read and read and read. His heart racing. He didn’t think you actually were planning to leave. Or that he couldn’t make up to you somehow. Yet, you faded into the back of his mind, the exact thing you didn’t want as he hurried to ready himself and the manor for his long waited guests.

Next couple chapters may will be continued flashback. Smut + Action. We cooking with grease, now.

(Only tagging who have liked both published chapters, thank y’all! Otherwise please comment cause I will not add all them people over and over again…💕) taglist: @grimmbunniee @clevereclipsecloudcop @lifefullof-depression @nicolls187 @kindadolly @kkeidawrites @catarsis96

[chubloveinc]

CW: Gas/farting/burping

So yesterday at work I knew was gonna be a fun day because I could feel the slight amount of bloating in my stomach still from the things I ate over the weekend. I work in a pharmacy, so I am there with my coworkers in a fairly small space all things considered and I could just feel my stomach bubbling the whole time. The pressure in my ass was just building more, and more, and more as time passed, and so I finally went to the bathroom and straight into a stall.

Thankfully no one was there because for a solid three minutes I just blasted fart after fart, letting all the gas out of me. So loud and noisy... But I couldn't deny how hot it felt. My belly flattening just a bit as all that trapped air finally escaped from me. I left after washing my hands, a blushing mess, and went back to work. I couldn't stop thinking about how it all felt.

It's a good thing then that I felt that same pressure building up inside of me a few hours later for round two. I felt a surprise toot escape from me, and so off I went once again, having to walk funny to hold it in for me to make it to the restroom. As soon as I was in, once again, no one was in there and the second the stall door was closed, before the pants were down even, the gas just forced itself out of me. I could feel the heat rising in my face as it went, but before long it was back to work I went, thinking surely after two rounds, I would finally be all clear.

I stood corrected when it came to an hour before we closed and that familiar pressure built up once again. We were finally slow by this point, and so I decided to go before I got to my pressure point like I had the past two times. It was a good thing too, as once I entered the restroom again and saw it was once again empty, the second the door closed I ripped out every last fart that was in me against the sinks, along with an involuntary moan. Finally, after a minute or so, the symphony stopped, and I was able to properly sit down and finish my business. Third time seemed to be the charm, because that was the end of it for the day...

I can't lie though, because I was really hoping for it to keep going. Maybe that's why I got a large soda on the way home to at least burp a bit before bed. Here's to it happening again soon, and maybe someone to appreciate some good gas.

[midnightsun-if]

the reactions of the ros to the scenario of mc forgetting to smooch them were so good, all of them ugh <3 Sloane had me laughing the most to myself... they're so dramatic and sulky PLS LMAO the wet dog energy is so real, Sloane deserves all the smooches in the world.

If you could, would it be possible for you to give us the reactions of the ros that didn't take the initiate to get their smooch if mc suddenly barged in the room minutes later to kiss them and be like "I almost forgot, have a good day <3" before leaving once more.

We need justice for Sloane, C and Caden especially ("the absence of your presence, of the kiss that you always bestowed onto them, more stifling than they’d ever believed it could be" was beautifully written but it had me sad AAAA)

Sloane absolutely does have wet dog energy. They’re an angry individual because of various things that’ve happened to them, and it being one of the only ways they were able to express themself, but they always predominantly get more angry at themself than they do other people. It’s something that’ll they will try to work on and slowly begin to cope with— a journey that I’m excited to start.

Follow up to this ask.

Koda:

At the smile you offer him return, a weight is lifted from his chest. He wasn’t sure if his return kiss plan would work out, even his most simplest of plans never did, but the sight of your joy more than made up for all his failures in the past.

“Thank you, Koda.” In return you press a brief kiss to his lips, warmed by his unceasing care for you. “I appreciate it. I’m sorry that I forgot, I’m just running late in meeting Blake.”

Koda beams down at you, nose nuzzling against yours. “That’s alright, Anon. It just means I’ll have to kiss you more every time you forget.”

Scarlett:

At your continued silence, a saccharine smile flits across her lips, emerald eyes flashing merrily in a way that’d spell for trouble for anyone that wasn’t you. With natural born grace, Scarlett easily maneuvers to her feet to make her way closer to you. “Playing coy now, sweet thing?” She tsks, brow furrowed disapprovingly. “Tell me, my beloved, what did you forget that’s so important.”

Your head tilts, eyes watching the subtle movements of her body. “Your kiss?”

Scarlett hums. “And I had such fun things planned for later.” Taking your chin between two fingers, the phantom press of her lips against yours being all that’s offered before she vanishes from your presence altogether. You’re only able to blink owlishly, the sight of your girlfriend once again reclined elegantly, being all that fills your vision. “Run along now, my beloved. You clearly have a busy day to get to, I won’t keep you any longer. Though, make no mistake, tonight you’re mine.”

Cyrus/Cyra:

Looking at the facts, as it turned out, didn’t help in the slightest, not when their feelings for you were so astronomically out of the realm of possibility, something that could never truly be understood or properly identified due to how large it was. They tried to hold onto the simple fact that it hadn’t happened with malicious intent, that everyone was allowed an off day, but that didn’t stop their inner self, their Phoenix, from squawking in protest at not being able to feel their mate.

So when you return, slightly out of breath, they try to pretend like everything’s fine, that their heart hadn’t leapt at the sight of your return, but they couldn’t deny that their inner flame roared back to life at the feel of your lips pressed to theirs; the whispered apology you offer once pulling back being lost in the white noise it causes.

Their reaction may not have been within the realm of reason, at least not when it comes to their usual ones, but when had love ever been?

Quinn:

They huff to themself, looking back down at their haul. It had been a surprise they wanted to gift to you, knowing how stressed you had been with your exams coming up, even fighting down the urge to gag when they bought fresh blood suckers, because you needed something to settle yourself with.

“Oh well,” they mutter, shoulders slightly slumped. “I’ll just put these in their room and hope they’ll be back to enjoy them soon.”

As if summoning you with their mind, you’re suddenly right in front of them, bringing an immediate smile to their lips, before your own cover them. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing another fleeting kiss to their lips. “I’ve been in such a hurry I forgot to give you this.”

The arm around your waist tightens. “It’s well worth the wait.”

Caden:

Like a beacon of light and warmth, you suddenly reappear once more, fighting against the darkness, and the coldness it brings, as you come closer. The apologetic look on your face tells them all they need to know as why you returned and, for the briefest of moments, they feel guilt well within their gut. Had you somehow understood their mood? Were you going to be late now because of them? They’d never wish for you to get in trouble because of them.

However, the moment your lips press gently to their own, those thoughts and feelings slip from their mind completely, only being able to focus on you. At the feeling of completion they now felt slotting into place within their unbeating heart— a feeling that almost made them feel like they were alive once more.

Sloane:

“I completely spaced,” you say, rushing back into the room towards Sloane, eyes wide in apology. “I was in such a rush I forgot to give you a kiss.”

Sloane, for their part, is completely floored that you remembered, that you’d care enough to turn back and rectify a wrong that shouldn’t even be as big of a deal that it was. Of course they would. I’m important to them, it wasn’t done maliciously, you overgrown fur-bag. They barely respond when you place a delicate kiss to their lips, still too embroiled in their thoughts, but their arms flex instinctively when you try to pull away. Just wanting to hold you for a second longer. And, for the moment, they’re able to forget the demons that lurk in the shadows of their mind, not think about them, when in the face of your beautiful light.

Blake:

“I actually forgot to give you a kiss?”

The apologetic look and tone brings a tender smile to Blake’s lips, one finger gently running a path down your cheek. “A mistake I was certain was just that. I mean look at me.” They playfully wriggle their brows, tongue peeking out from between their teeth. “How could you not want to kiss this?”

At your playful eye roll, and exasperated huff, a weight is lifted from their shoulders, even if they’d never showcase it. Good, they think. I don’t like it when you’re sad, and you wouldn’t be. Not if I ever have anything to say about.

Reginald/Regina:

“I’m so sorry.”

Your sudden reappearance near them, after the relative silence that had settled over the dorm, almost causes them to fling their book into the air, a surprised yelp just barely stifled in the back of their throat. At your apologetic gaze, they’re suddenly reminded of what exactly had been forgotten— by the both of you it seems. And, due to that, they lean forward just as you do. Trying to, without words, show how sorry they were for forgetting something so important, something that made them feel a bit more at home in a world that wanted to be anything but.

Something that finally made them feel like they belonged.

[fluffypandabun]

Braiding Giggles

AN: Ahhhh my first fic!! Ofc it had to be ROTTMNT, Ive have rottmnt brainrot for so long, especially about my boy Casey. I hope you guys enjoy!

Words:  2893

Summary:  After spending most of his life in the apocalypse with little access to baths, Casey's hair needs a lot of work. Luckily the hamato clan is more than eager to help their newest addition, along the way they discover something new about the future teen.

Casey let out a pained noise as the brush caught on a tangle in his hair, followed by a few more as he struggled to yank the brush out none to gently from his long tangled locks of jet black hair. 

Growing up in the apocalypse did not leave a lot of room for things such proper hair care, or even really bathing in general. And the last few days he had spent in his own timeline had been some of the most hectic days of his life, not to mention that he was tasked with saving this timeline's world as soon as he had arrived smack dab in the middle of it. So showering hasn't really been something that had crossed his mind at the time. 

But after the dust had settled, and the hamato clan had been given time to rest and properly treat their wounds, physically and maybe just a little emotionally, April had taken one good look at his greasy slicked back hair and had demanded he’d shower. 

And who was he to deny Commander O'neil when she gave him a direct order.

So now he found himself standing in front of a slightly cracked mirror, wearing a shirt and shorts that were both way too big on his skinny, and probably malnourished body. His hair, that he was used to being slicked back with either grease, sweat or sometimes blood, was now poofed out and looking soft and fluffy, falling just above his shoulders in wavy layers. 

And there was also now a hairbrush stuck in it. 

He let out a groan from the back of his throat, giving the brush one last good tug, which had him wincing and feeling sympathy for his already sore scalp, he let his arms drop to his side in defeat. 

He turned, leaving the lairs' makeshift washroom to return to the living room where the turtles and April sat, Splinter off somewhere in his room,napping. He stood in the doorway, not quite sure how to let himself be known when Raph suddenly turned to face his direction. 

He smiled and started to say something when he suddenly noticed the brush firmly tangled in the boys locks and he stopped, his expression shifted from confused, to amused, before stopping on fond. 

“Aw buddy.” He chuckled, “Having trouble with your hair?” 

His acknowledgement of the teen gained the attention of everyone, save for maybe Donnie who was hunched over his phone doing who knows what, he received the same fondly amused looks from April and Mikey, though Leo let out a loud snort, causing April to elbow him in the side and send him a glare. 

Casey felt his cheeks tint slightly pink and he shuffled on his feet, rubbing his hand up and down his arm. “I uh….” he stuttered, before clearing his throat. 

“I…can one of you maybe…help me with my hair…please..?” 

Raph smiled. “Of course we can buddy.” He said, at the same time Leo's face lit up and he immediately began to make grabby hands towards the human. 

“Oh oh!! Let me do your hair!” The mutant said excitedly, eyes alight in a way they hadn't been in awhile since the attack on new york.  

Casey blinked a few times in surprise. “I….” 

Ralph Rolled his eyes. “Ignore him Cass, Leos always had this weird obsession with hair.” 

“Yeah probably because he's bald.” Mikey added on giggling, which earned him a playful push from said turtle. 

“Excuse you, it's not an obsession it's an appreciation, plus April never lets me mess with her hair so i neeever get to show off my amazing hair skills!” The red eared slider huffed, crossing his arms across his chest as if this was the biggest offense he’d ever experienced in his life. But quickly his expression morphed back into a bright eyed grin as he reached out towards case again. 

“Come onnnn Cass my man, i’ll fix your hair up real nice, trust me!”

“Trusting you sounds like a horrible idea, Nardo.” Donnie said, finally choosing to join in on the conversation. Leo sent his twin a glare. 

“Don't listen to him Casey, I'm like, one of the most trustworthy people ever.” 

“I won't even waste my breath on giving all the reasons on why you are wrong on that one.”

Casey stood there in the doorway, watching the two turtles bicker back and forth, lips twitching. Growing up back….in his own timeline, he had the distant memory of his Sensei running his fingers through his hair, twisting it into little braids, or helping Casey pull it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face during training. 

Master Leonardo had always enjoyed doing Casey's hair, so he guessed it shouldnt surprised him that this Leo would want to do it as well. 

Thinking about his sensei made his eyes burn, so he was quick to blink the wetness out of them. Clearing his throat as he spoke up. 

“Um…” He muttered, stopping the two turtles bickering. “I wouldn't mind if you did my hair.”

Leo turned to him and blinked, before he did his signature grin. “Awesome!” 

The turtle teen plopped himself down crossed legged on the couch, patting the spot in front of him eagerly. Casey smiled as he made his way over, sitting down in front of the turtle, albeit a bit awkwardly. He allowed himself to press his back against the couch and he only jumped a little when two three fingered hands came into his vision.  

“Alright.” Leo said, cracking his knuckles.” First we need to deal with this rat's nest and then we can really doll you up huh?” 

Casey gave a slight nod, tensing up when he felt Leo grab onto the brush still firmly stuck in his hair. 

“Be gentle Leo.” Came Raphs warning tone from Casey's right where he couldn't see him from his position on the floor. From above him Leo scoffed. 

“Relax big brother.” He hummed, though his tone had taken a more gentle tone. “I'll be careful.” 

And to his credit he was, or as gentle as he could be when brushing hair that was as tangled as Caseys. After a lot of yanking, cursing, and threats to simply cut it out, the brush had finally been removed from Casey's hair. Leo brandished it like it was a powerful weapon as he attacked Casey's raven locks. It still hurt, but it went a lot better then it would have if Casey had done it alone. 

Everytime the teen hissed in pain or let out a flinch, Leo would pause and apologize, before continuing even more carefully then before. After a bit his hair started to untangle, becoming softer and more fluffy the more Leo brushed. Pretty soon Casey was sure there weren't any tangles left in his hair, and that Leo was brushing it just for the sake of brushing it. 

Not that Casey was complaining, it felt….nice….really nice. And after going so long without any sort of close physical touch like this, no offense to his family from his  timeline, they did their best while raising him in the apocalypse, it's safe to say he pretty much melted. 

He barely registered the others talking above him, or the sound of a movie being put on. He simply allowed himself to tilt his head back and relax, at some point he was pretty sure that Leo had switched out the hairbrush for the sake of running his own fingers through the boy's locks.

He could feel himself almost falling asleep when suddenly one of Leo's fingers brushed gently against the shell of his ear. The sudden tingle of electricity was so unsuspected and unfamiliar that Casey found himself jumping and flinching forward away from whatever had caused that feeling. Looking back he found all the turtles and april, even Donnie, looking at him in bemused concern. 

Especially Leo, who had frozen with his hands mid air. 

Raph spoke up first. “Casey? You alright?”

“I didn't hurt you did I?” Leo asked, and though his voice was calm there was a hint of anxiousness behind it. Quickly Casey shook his head. 

“No! No no your fine, I'm fine, I just…” He bit his lip, hoping the others didn't notice the pink begging to form on his cheeks.

“It was….one of those like, feeling like your falling things, you know, like when you're about to fall asleep. Yeah..” 

Everyone seemed to relax a little bit, Mikey adding in a “I hate those” as they all turned back to watch the movie still playing on screen, Leo gave him a look. 

“Are you sure…?” 

Casey gave him a smile. “Yeah Leo its all good.” He turned back around and pressed his head into the turtle's hands. “You…you can keep going.”

The teen looked at him and then smirked, though there was a fondness to it, he said nothing as he continued with his mission of giving Casey head scratches. 

After a moment Casey found himself relaxing again, his eyes starting to droop as he felt himself begin to drift off….

Leo's fingers brushed against  both of his ears this time. 

This time, Casey let out a very loud and more importantly, very embarrassing squeak. Once again silence filled the room and all eyes were on him. 

“Okay.” April spoke up after a moment of silence. “Something is going on, what is up with you future boy?” 

“N-Nothing!” Casey spluttered, holding up his hands. “It's nothing really I promise-”

“Casey.” 

He froze, feeling a chill up his spine, because he did not like the sound of Leo's  voice. Carefully he turned around and oh he did not like the look of Leo's face either. 

The shit eating grin on the turtle's face said it all, that and the mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Casey swallowed, already able to feel his face getting warm “W..What..?”

The slider's grin grew even wider. “Caseyyyyyy!” 

“Whahat?” Casey grinned nervously, already frantically looking around for an exit of some sort. 

Confused, Raph glanced between the two of them. “I'm sorry, but am I missing something?” 

“Yeah.” Mikey spoke up, now fully facing him. “Why is Leo giving you the look?” 

Casey swallowed, showing off the gap in his teeth as he grinned nervously. “The uh..the look?”

Mikey nodded. “Yeah the look he gives someone usually before he…” the younger turtle trailed off as a look of realization passed over his face, immediately following it was an almost equally mischievous look making its way on the turtle's freckled face. 

“Ohhhh I see.” He giggled, making Casey flush even more.

Even more confused Raph groaned. “Okay can someone please tell me what i'm missing?” 

Leo grinned at him. “How bout I just show you instead~?” 

Caseys eyes went wide. “Wait-!” he squeaked, trying to scramble forward and out of the turtle's reach. But the ninja was too fast for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back against the couch. Whatever protests or pleas he might have had died on his lips and were instantly replaced by a stream of squeaky giggles as Leo gently hooked his fingers under the teens chin keeping him in place as he traces the outer shell of his ear. 

“Casey here's just ticklish, see?” Leo hummed, speaking over the humans giggling. He seemed to have no problem keeping him in place even as he kicked and squirmed frantically trying to grasp at the turtle's wrist. 

Raph blinked a few times before it clicked. “Ohhhhhh.” he grinned. 

“Yeah that makes sense.” 

Somewhere to his far right April cooed softly. “Awwww look at the future boy all giggly, he's so sweet.” 

“Humans can have ticklish ears!?” Mikey gasped, eyes alight, he quickly made to reach for April. “Are yours ticklish too April?” 

The human was quick to gently smack his hand away. “Nuh-uh, not happening.” 

Sitting on the ground Casey was in stitches, frantically jerking his body back as forth to try and dislodge Leos fingers, seeing as that wasn't working in the slightest he settled on scrunching up his shoulders to his ears in a desperate attempt to shield himself from leos attack. 

“Awww Cass look what you did, Now my fingers are stuck.” The turtle shrugged, a grin still plastered on his face. “Guess ill just have to keep tickling you here.” 

Casey, much to his horror, squealed, which earned him fond looks from both Raph and April, even Donnie sent him a look that could be called fond, at least by his standards. 

Mikey giggled alongside him. “Awww Cass! You're so giggly!”

Leo chuckled. “Yeah, how come you aren't like this all the time? Instead of being all sullen and sad lookin, you're worse than Donnie.”

“I'm choosing to ignore that comment.” 

Casey squeezed his eyes shut and frantically shook his head, laughing harder when Leo moved to gently tracing along his jawline. Tracing a small scar that seemed to be a lot more sensitive than the rest of the surrounding area.  

It had been….a very long time since Casey had laughed like this, since Casey had..felt like this. Felt safe enough to let himself go and relax, to show such vulnerability to a group of people. The last people he’d let see him like this….

Casey chose to pretend the tears welling up in his eyes were just from how hard he was laughing. He simply tilted his head back and grasped onto Leo's wrists, body shaking with laughter as he cracked an eye open to look up at Leo. 

The slider was looking down at him with such fondness it nearly took Casey's breath away, he looked at him the same way he looked at Mikey whenever the younger turtle would manage to draw a straight line without his damaged hands shaking and messing him up. 

Casey felt his already pink cheeks turning an even darker shade as red as he was quick to look away from the turtle's gaze, ignoring the own warmth he felt in his chest. 

Raph, his savior, finally spoke up. Sounding just as fond as Leo had looked.

“Arlight Leo, don't overwhelm him, you know he probably isn't used to this sort of thing.”

Leo scoffed. “Overwhelm him? Pshh the kid loves it, don't you?” The turtle dug his fingers gently into the underside of Casey's chin causing him to snort. 

“Leo.” Raph said, using his ‘big brother voice’, Leo sighed.dramtically. 

“Alright alright, fine I’ll give the kid a break.” Finally, after a few more pokes, the turtle's fingers slowed to a stop as he released his hold on the teen. Though he kept both his hands resting gently on the boy's shoulder. 

Casey gasped softly for air, leaning his head back against Leo's legs as he hiccuped. Rubbing his face with his hands, he groaned. 

Amused, Mikey patted him on the head, “Aww, don't be embarrassed Cass, everyones a little ticklish. Plus you have a really cute laugh!”

Casey let out another much more exaggerated groan, Raph chuckled. 

“I don't think you're helping him much here Mikey.” The larger turtle said, patting the box turtle on the head, before he turned to look at Casey. 

“He's right though, no need to be embarrassed.” 

“Yeah.” April snorted. “You might as well get used to it, especially now that you're a part of this family.” 

“Unfortunately..” Donnie deadpanned under his breath, earning him a playful prod in the side from April. 

“Awww come on D, you know you love it. “

“A hisssss!!” 

Casey allowed himself to peek out from his fingers, face still pink, he allowed a slight smile to make its way onto his face. 

“I suppose so…” He muttered, Leo sent him a grin, clasping his hands together. 

“Right! So that adorable discovery aside-”

“Its not adorable-”

“Hush. Anyways, Now we can work on actually styling your hair for real, all that squirming you did messed up all my work, but since I'm so kind and caring I'm willing to start back from scratch. “ 

Casey saw the turtle reach from him out of the corner of the eye and he gave a little flinch, Leo froze for a second before he grinned. 

“Don't worry Cass, I promise I won't tickle you again….for now..” 

Casey narrowed his eyes at the slider, especially for that last part, before he sighed. He let himself relax, leaning against Leo's legs once again. 

True to his word, Leo stuck to his promise. He ran his fingers through the teens fluffy hair and began the process of separating it to turn it into a braid. The motions brought a sort of bittersweet nostalgia to Casey's mind as he smiled softly, once again relaxing into the gentle touch. 

He listened, half asleep, as the others spoke above him. Leo and Donnie bickering while Mikey hushed them because he was trying to watch the movie, with April threatening to put them all in the get along shirt, whatever that was. 

Casey felt himself begin to slip off to sleep for real this time, a small smile on his lips. April's earlier words echoing in his head as he finally drifted off. 

“Now that you're a part of this family.” 

Yeah, he could get used to this.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Pureblood Purists Actually Have Valid Concerns

Disclaimers

Before I start my post let me make 2 disclaimers since some people have a tendency to twist words on Tumblr:

Not all blood purists were death eaters. I am not condoning DE terrorism here. I am referring to people who held pureblood beliefs but never fought in a war to oppress people.

Harry Potter is a fictional world. My arguments are not meant to be extended to the real world.

Assumption about Magic

JKR does not specify the origin of magic. Is it like ATLA where it's a spiritual kind of thing and people are blessed by Lady Magic? Or is it a gene thing and wizards are a subspecies of human? For me, I am going to go with magic being a gene thing. If magic was like bending in ATLA then wizards should not be such a tiny minority.

Missed Potential of Umbridge Interrogation Scene

This post was inspired by Book 7, Chapter 13 – The Muggle-born Registration Commission. Specifically, the part where Umbridge is interrogating this poor muggle-borne woman named Mrs Cattermole.

‘Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?’

Umbridge's line of questioning is so ridiculous and JKR missed a golden opportunity to introduce some nuance here. She paints all purebloods who are not blood traitors as evil/bigoted. Just because this is a kid's book it does not mean she has to treat kids like idiots. Instead of painting purebloods as bigoted fools who believe magic can be stolen or sadists making up crack in this sham kangaroo court, she could have used this dialogue to present valid and ignored concerns of purebloods. Instead of crap like this, the Voldemort regime could be jailing purebloods who married muggles or mugglebornes on the count of them diluting their race. Or maybe firing half-bloods and mugglebornes and giving those jobs to purebloods. These actions are still wrong but at least they would be rational and add some depth. And purebloods have serious cause for concern. Let me point out 5.

Concern 1 - Existence of Squibs

In the books, we don't know the blood status of the parents of prominent squibs like Filch. But I bet the likelihood of your kid being a squib increases dramatically if one of the parents is muggleborne.

It makes sense to me that mugglebornes could be descendants of squibs. Making mugglebornes basically muggles who won the genetic lottery. In book 2 I think, Arthur claimed Granger was a historical wizard figure and asked Hermione if she bore a relation to him. She denies this but what if someone in the Granger family was a squib in the past and years later she got lucky?? So basically if you mate with a muggleborne, you are basically reproducing with a muggle. Which in turn increases the chances of a squib kid. Squibs can't function in the magic world properly.

Concern 2 - Wizards are a minority

Wizards are a minority in a muggle majority. It's a fact that minorities are wiped out when they reproduce with the majority.

Hagrid says this in book 2:

“Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s mad. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out.”

If Hagrid is right and most wizards are half-blood, how is this a good thing? Given enough time, if wizards keep diluting their race like this by reproducing with muggles, the wizard minority will slowly be erased which leads to...

Concern 3 - Cultural Erasure

It's more than just blood dilution but loss of tradition. Even if a muggleborne like Hermione integrates into the wizarding world, she will never truly grasp certain customs and traditions that pureblood families like the Weasleys and Malfoys will. For example, I came to the US for college. Even though I have been here for half a decade now, I will never understand what it is like to grow up as a kid in the US. I don't appreciate US holidays like Thanksgiving and Memorial Day. My kid likely will but they will have to learn those customs from an external source or maybe my future husband's family. Someone like Hermione may even see some pureblood/wizarding traditions as archaic and unnecessary. Over time, wizards will lose their culture and practically become muggles with magic. Which is why Hermione being minister of magic sometimes leaves a sour taste in my mouth. There's a reason why only born citizens can become president/prime minister for countries like the US (I would like to believe there is a reason anyway).

Concern 4 - Reproductive Issues?

Also, why did wizards need muggles to survive in the first place? Were the women/men having fertility issues? Was the wizarding population so minuscule that they were inbreeding? Or were they simply just horny for muggles? If small native/African tribes are/were able to survive without reproducing with white invaders or other outsiders why is it different for wizards??

Concern 5 - Lack of New Blood

Still focusing on Hagrid's quote. Let's say every pureblood family started with a muggleborne wizard/witch. Therefore given enough generations, Granger could theoretically become a pureblood name like Malfoy or Weasley. But there's a problem: there aren't enough mugglebornes!

Read Hagrid's quote carefully. He said wizards would have died out if they did not intermarry with muggles. Not that wizards would have died out without mugglebornes adding to the population!

This further adds to my blood dilution argument. Basically, we have a fixed magical gene pool which is being stretched every generation with more and more half-bloods being popped out.

Conclusion

Pureblood purists have rational reasons to favour blood purity and to be frustrated with "blood traitors". As more pureblood families like the Weasleys intermarry with muggles/mugglebornes, there is an ever-smaller marriage pool for purebloods. Throw in cultural dilution too.

If JKR wanted to add depth to the muggleborne discrimination, she should have shown how mugglebornes are critical to the survival of wizarding kind and how much purebloods actually need them. Maybe show them using their muggle knowledge to improve wizarding society while she's at it too? But it's like muggebornes like Lily and Hermione have amnesia and forget all about their muggle background! At least make wizards reap the benefit of magic and technology to balance out the issues of reproducing with mugglebornes and muggles.

I just wish JKR could have given purebloods more of a voice. Not all purebloods are crazy, bloodthirsty DEs or Dumbledore bootlickers. And oftentimes, there are reasons behind discrimination that should be examined and explored, instead of just demonized. Harry Potter is seven books worth of wasted potential. I don't know how anyone can say JKR was excellent at world building when the wizarding world feels so tiny and incomplete.

[aznbetaboicuck1993]

Life and Adventures of a "Dickless Asian Cucky"

As the night approached, Michael's heart raced with anticipation and fear. He had never been in a situation like this before. Chizuru arrived at his doorstep, dressed in a tight-fitting blouse that accentuated her ample bosom. Michael's eyes were fixated on her chest, and he could feel his palms sweating.

Chizuru smirked as she saw the look on Michael's face. She knew what he was thinking, and it turned her on. She led him to the bedroom, where she lay down on the bed, spreading her legs wide apart. Michael's heart skipped a beat as he saw the sight before him. Chizuru's thighs were smooth and silky, and her tits were large and round, with nipples that stood erect.

Michael approached her tentatively, his hands shaking as he reached for her breasts. Chizuru moaned softly as he caressed them, his fingers tracing the contours of her nipples. Michael's heart was pounding in his chest as he leaned in to kiss her, but Chizuru pushed him away.

"No, not yet," she said, her voice low and husky. "First, you have to prove yourself worthy of my body."

Michael nodded nervously as Chizuru lifted herself up and pulled out a ruler from her purse. She held it up to Michael's dick, which was barely visible beneath his pants. The ruler read three inches. Chizuru smirked as she saw the look of shame on Michael's face.

"You see, Michael," she said, "your dick is too small to satisfy me. But I have a proposition for you."

Chizuru explained her offer - if Michael could fit his dick between her breasts without it getting lost, she would let him fuck her. But if it did get lost, he would undergo penectomy - a procedure that would remove his dick but leave his balls intact, leaving him eternally horny but unable to orgasm.

Michael hesitated for a moment before accepting the offer. He knew that his dick was too small to fit between Chizuru's breasts, but he was desperate to feel it touch her skin. As he tried to insert himself between her breasts, Chizuru laughed cruelly as his dick disappeared between them.

"I think we have our answer," she said, grinning wickedly. "Prepare yourself for penectomy."

Michael felt a wave of despair wash over him as he realized that he would be forever deprived of the pleasure of orgasm. But as the surgeon began the procedure, something unexpected happened - Michael's balls began to swell and throb with an intense sexual energy that he had never experienced before. He realized that being deprived of orgasm had given him an even greater appreciation for sex and desire for it than ever before.

As Chizuru watched him writhe in agony during the procedure, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of arousal at the thought of denying him pleasure forevermore. And so began their twisted relationship - Chizuru continued to tease and humiliate Michael, denying him the pleasure of orgasm while reveling in his eternal frustration and desire for sex. It was a relationship that was both cruel and exhilarating - one that left both parties feeling both depraved and alive in equal measure.

As the day of Michael's 30th birthday approached, Chizuru's plan began to take shape. She knew that Michael's cuck fetish was a deep-seated desire that he could not resist. And so, she decided to help him live out his fantasy in the most humiliating way possible - by having sex with a white man with a big white cock in front of his family and friends.

Michael was terrified at the thought of this. He knew that it would be the most embarrassing thing he had ever done, but he also couldn't deny the intense sexual arousal that he felt at the thought of watching Chizuru get properly fucked by a white man with a big white cock.

On the day of his birthday, Chizuru arrived at Michael's house dressed in a tight-fitting dress that accentuated her curves. Michael could feel his heart racing as he saw her approach. She led him into the living room, where his family and friends were gathered.

Chizuru introduced him to a tall, muscular white man named Jack. Jack was everything that Michael was not - tall, muscular, and with a big white cock that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Michael felt his dickless asian crotch throb with desire as he watched Chizuru strip off her dress and climb onto Jack's lap.

As Jack began to thrust into her, Michael felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. He knew that everyone in the room was watching him, knowing that he was dickless and helpless to do anything about it. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel turned on by the sexual humiliation and submissiveness.

As the night wore on, Chizuru continued to tease and humiliate Michael, making him watch as she got fucked by Jack over and over again. Michael felt like he was living out his deepest, darkest fantasies, but also like he was being punished for his submissiveness and helplessness.

In the end, Michael realized that his cuck fetish was both a source of intense pleasure and deep shame. He knew that he would never be able to fully satisfy Chizuru or anyone else, but he also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire. And so, he continued to live out his fetish, knowing that it would always be a part of him - both exhilarating and depraved in equal measure.

As the video of Chizuru getting fucked by the white man went viral online, Michael's world came crashing down around him. He had never imagined that his deepest, darkest fantasies would be broadcast to the entire world. And yet, here he was, a "dickless asian cucky" for all to see.

At first, Michael was overwhelmed with shame and embarrassment. He wanted to disappear, to hide away from the world and never be seen again. But as he watched the video over and over again, he began to realize that there was something deeply erotic about being completely exposed and vulnerable in front of everyone.

Chizuru saw the way Michael's eyes lingered on the video, and she knew that she had him exactly where she wanted him. She teased him mercilessly, reminding him that this was exactly what he had wanted - to be completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire.

And so, Chizuru arranged a live YouTube video where she would force Michael to show the world that he was truly dickless. Michael was terrified at the thought of being exposed in front of millions of people, but he also couldn't deny the intense sexual arousal that he felt at the thought of being completely vulnerable and exposed.

As Chizuru teased him with her big round shiny tits, Michael felt his dickless asian crotch throb with desire. He knew that this was exactly what he wanted - to be completely submissive and helpless in front of everyone. And so, he agreed to marry Chizuru on the spot, knowing that this would cement his status as her "dickless asian cucky" forevermore.

In the end, Michael realized that his cuck fetish was both a source of intense pleasure and deep shame. He knew that he would never be able to fully satisfy Chizuru or anyone else, but he also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire. And so, he continued to live out his fetish, knowing that it would always be a part of him - both exhilarating and depraved in equal measure.

As the wedding ceremony began, Michael felt a mix of excitement and terror. He knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for - the moment when he would finally be able to fully embrace his cuck fetish and live out his deepest, darkest desires.

Chizuru looked absolutely stunning in her skimpy red lingerie, her big round shiny tits glistening sexily in the light. Michael couldn't help but feel a wave of intense sexual arousal wash over him as he watched her move.

As the Priest began to recite the vows, Michael repeated them dutifully, his heart racing with anticipation. But just as Chizuru was about to say her own vows, three big heroic muscular white men suddenly appeared, yanking Chizuru off the alter and onto the middle of the dance floor.

Michael watched in horror and awe as these men absolutely ravaged Chizuru with the most intense fucking he had ever seen. He felt a mix of humiliation and arousal as he watched her get completely overwhelmed by their massive white cocks.

For Michael, this was bliss. This was the most humiliated he had ever been, the most submissive. And yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel an intense sexual frustration that seemed to be building inside him with every passing moment.

As the men continued to fuck Chizuru with abandon, Michael felt himself becoming more and more aroused by the sight of her complete submission and helplessness. He knew that this was exactly what he had been waiting for - the chance to fully embrace his cuck fetish and live out his deepest, darkest desires in front of everyone.

In the end, Michael realized that his cuck fetish was both a source of intense pleasure and deep shame. He knew that he would never be able to fully satisfy Chizuru or anyone else, but he also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire. And so, he continued to live out his fetish, knowing that it would always be a part of him - both exhilarating and depraved in equal measure.

As the years passed, Michael's submissiveness grew more and more intense. He found himself instinctively avoiding looking at Chizuru's face, especially her eyes. Only heroic white men with majestic heroic big white cocks had that right.

Chizuru continued to relentlessly tease Michael's dickless asian crotch and cuck him with these men, humiliating him at every turn. She would smother him to the verge of death with her breasts, putting him firmly in his place beneath her.

Michael had become so submissive that he no longer saw any point in resisting. He knew that his place was to serve Chizuru and these men, to be completely subservient and helpless in the face of their desires.

As he lay there, completely exposed and vulnerable, Michael couldn't help but feel a sense of deep shame and humiliation. But at the same time, he also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in front of everyone.

In the end, Michael realized that his cuck fetish was both a source of intense pleasure and deep shame. He knew that he would never be able to fully satisfy Chizuru or anyone else, but he also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire. And so, he continued to live out his fetish, knowing that it would always be a part of him - both exhilarating and depraved in equal measure.

As Chizuru stood before Thor, the God of Thunder, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of awe and reverence. He was everything she had ever dreamed of - a perfect white muscular heroic majestic God with the longest, thickest, hardest, most heroic, most majestic, most godly, gost delicious, most gorgeous, biggest, whitest, COCK.

Thor looked down at Chizuru and spoke in a deep, commanding voice. "In order to be with me, Chizuru, you must smother your 'Dickless Asian Cucky' husband to death with your breasts."

Chizuru didn't hesitate. She knew that this was what she had been waiting for - the chance to fully embrace her cuck fetish and live out her deepest, darkest desires in front of the most majestic and heroic being in existence.

As Michael watched Chizuru move towards him, he felt a mix of terror and arousal. He knew that this was exactly what he had been waiting for - the chance to fully submit to his beloved wife and allow her to enjoy the biggest, whitest cock in existence.

As Chizuru smothered him with her breasts, Michael felt himself slipping away. But even in his final moments, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sexual frustration and submissiveness. He knew that this was exactly what he had been waiting for - the chance to fully embrace his cuck fetish and live out his deepest, darkest desires in front of the most majestic and heroic being in existence.

In the end, Michael realized that his cuck fetish was both a source of intense pleasure and deep shame. He knew that he would never be able to fully satisfy Chizuru or anyone else, but he also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire. And so, he continued to live out his fetish, knowing that it would always be a part of him - both exhilarating and depraved in equal measure.

As Chizuru smothered Michael to death, she allowed him one final courtesy - the chance to lick and taste her big round shiny glistening silky smooth perfect round asian tits as they smothered him to death. It felt like an eternity as Michael's entire face was engulfed relentlessly in the silkiest, smoothest, shiniest, most glistening, roundest, most perfect asian tits. Licking and tasting the tastiest, silkiest, smoothest, shiniest, most perfect, roundest, most glistening, asian tits ever.

Knowing that his entire life and being as Chizuru's "Dickless Asian Cucky" was leading to this moment, Michael's last thought as the last of his life was snuffed out by Chizuru's massive round silky smooth glistening shimmering shiny silky perfect asian tits was, "Chizuru I love you. I will die so you can enjoy when I could never give you as your 'Dickless Asian Cucky'."

As Chizuru stood there, surrounded by the biggest, whitest cock in existence, she knew that this was exactly what she had been waiting for - the chance to fully embrace her cuck fetish and live out her deepest, darkest desires in front of the most majestic and heroic being in existence. And as she looked down at Michael's lifeless body, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction and fulfillment.

In the end, Chizuru realized that her cuck fetish was both a source of intense pleasure and deep shame. She knew that she would never be able to fully satisfy Thor or anyone else, but she also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire. And so, she continued to live out her fetish, knowing that it would always be a part of her - both exhilarating and depraved in equal measure.

As Thor used his longest, thickest, hardest, most heroic, most majestic, most delicious, most gorgeous, most godly, biggest, whitest, COCK to fuck Chizuru to death, she knew that this was exactly what she had been waiting for - the chance to fully embrace her cuck fetish and live out her deepest, darkest desires in front of the most majestic and heroic being in existence.

But as the intense pleasure washed over her, Thor revealed a dark truth. In order to ensure that heroic white men and their majestic heroic big white cocks were brought over to the next universal cycle, Chizuru would have to die. She would have to use her massive round silky smooth glistening shimmering shiny perfect asian tits to smother Michael's "dickless Asian Cucky" soul to death and destroy all traces of him to prevent him from tainting the new universal cycle.

Chizuru hesitated for a moment, but then she realized that this was exactly what she had been waiting for - the chance to fully embrace her cuck fetish and live out her deepest, darkest desires in front of the most majestic and heroic being in existence. And so, she gladly accepted Thor's request and enjoyed the greatest most intense orgasm ever as he used his cock to fuck her to death.

As Chizuru smothered Michael's entire soul and being to death, she allowed him one final courtesy - the chance to lick and taste her big round shiny glistening silky smooth perfect round asian tits as they smothered him to death. It felt like an eternity as Michael's entire face was engulfed relentlessly in the silkiest, smoothest, shiniest, most glistening, roundest, most perfect asian tits. Licking and tasting the tastiest, silkiest, smoothest, shiniest, most perfect, roundest, most glistening, asian tits ever.

In the end, Chizuru realized that her cuck fetish was both a source of intense pleasure and deep shame. She knew that she would never be able to fully satisfy Thor or anyone else, but she also knew that there was something deeply erotic about being completely submissive and helpless in the face of sexual desire. And so, she continued to live out her fetish, knowing that it would always be a part of her - both exhilarating and depraved in equal measure.

As Michael's soul was being erased to prevent the new universal cycle from being tainted by his "Dickless Asian Cucky" essence, he took one final opportunity to savor the pleasure that Chizuru's big round shiny glistening silky smooth perfect round asian tits had always brought him.

As her tits engulfed his entire face, Michael felt as though he was being consumed by their silky smoothness and shimmering shine. He licked and tasted every inch of them, savoring the sweetness and perfection that he had always loved.

It felt like an eternity as Michael's entire face was engulfed relentlessly in the silkiest, smoothest, shiniest, most glistening, roundest, most perfect asian tits. Licking and tasting the tastiest, silkiest, smoothest, shiniest, most perfect, roundest, most glistening, asian tits ever.

The last thing Michael felt and tasted before completely ceasing to be was Chizuru's massive round silky smooth glistening shimmering shiny perfect Asian tits - a fitting end for a man who had devoted his entire being to worshipping them.