#and I’m dreaming of him goating it up at literally any club that’s not them blue mfs

[maiteo]

Do I wanna hear this horrendous mash up accent idk 🫣 if he carries on playing like he’s been doing then pep will ship him back home anyways 😭

maybe this is all apart of his big plan….think about it. he’s already got a couple of trophies with those bums and I’m sure the ucl made him feel real accomplished…

also NÃO it’s not cute to me he doesn’t sound like himself😭 I don’t think I rb’d it, it was too much for me but I’m sure it’s in his tag under the videos part

[pa-panda-heroes]

blue hour.

demon!au!dabi x reader nsfw; find the sequel here

Inspired (sorta) by this post. This was initially a 400 followers celebration fic but took so long I got to 500, plus it’s Halloween!! 🎃🎃🎃

i listened to Mothica’s song Blue Hour while i wrote this and honestly fell in love with it. hence the name! please go give her a listen!

Minors, go away. This content is not for you.

Warnings: brief description of kidnapping, tiny mentions of religion (nonspecified tho!) and human sacrifice, injury + blood mention, foul language, brief cremation, Dabi being horny (hehe), Dabi absolutely 100% not using magic on you nope, thigh fucking, orgasm denial, biting, dirty talk, degradation?, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification if you squint?

Words: 14k+

Summary: Kidnapped and held as an offering to an ominous demon, you thought your death was near. Soon enough you find your captor dead and the demon you were offered to becomes your savior. Dabi clearly has plans for you, but what are they? Or was everything just a dream?

Your heartbeat thrummed within your ears, sweat sweltering and becoming a thick layer on your skin all over, making the fabric of your clothes cling to it ever-so-uncomfortably. It felt like you were being smothered from head to toe in fabric. The cooled blood that began just above your temple and trickled all the way down your face and neck had dried by now, acting as a crusty reminder of the reason behind the throbbing in your head. Trees swayed in the chilly winds that passed, making the cool air even colder - yet here you were, sweating like there was no tomorrow. You were bound by the wrists and ankles to a musty wooden pole in a forest you’d never seen before, the sky dark yet bright for the blue moon. The stars looked so free, so beautiful, so serene tonight. Yet you didn’t feel it.

Your breathing was quick, panicked, and hurried to the extent that you’d take in more oxygen by breathing less. Your poor, puffy lip was numb from having been chewed on so much, to the point where you couldn’t remember whether you were a chronic lip biter or not; but you sure were, now. That is, until he gagged you by tying an old handkerchief around your face. You struggled against your scratchy, dry restraints so much, they began to dig into your skin and bleed, sending a trail of blood down your arms and a jolt of burning, throbbing, stinging pain through your nerves.

You were far from alone.  

The only other human body you knew of was the one who put you in the position you currently find yourself in after a night of dancing, booze, and sweat. The inebriation from the alcohol made you an easy target, you guessed. God damn it all.

The night began with your celebrating a friend’s birthday at a club, drinking, dancing, and making merry. You had regretted agreeing to go at first after having a long, agonizingly tiring day at work, which gave you the burning desire to wrap up after a bath and lay in bed until the next day when you’d have to get up again. But as the night progressed, you were glad you tagged along; after all, it was an unexpectedly nice release after a bad day.  

Now you were regretting it again.

If only you hadn’t gone to the club.  

If only hadn’t agreed even if begrudgingly to go.

If only you hadn’t left your apartment.  

You made the mistake of trying to find a bathroom on your own and ended up in an alleyway. The last thing you saw was a filthy dumpster before it all went black, and upon waking you found yourself bound in this horrifying forest.

Around you was a circular dirt clearing bordered with a solid line and filled with various marks made upon it, ones that you’d never seen before. They looked to be of a lost, long-dead language - the language your masked captor was evidently speaking as he sat on his knees with his hands in the air before a makeshift altar of a sort. There was some distance between him and the altar, probably about two meters, that being the same distance he sat from you as you watched in horror.  

He was going to kill you, but not before torturing you - or other things. For some hideous purposes that looked a lot to do with a demon or something. All because you were a virgin that just so happened to cross his path.

You tried making noises, tried screaming, but it made no difference. He wouldn’t stop his hideous chanting and no one could hear you anyway. The thick forest swallowed your every scream and the gag held back your every cry. More tears run down your cheeks at your predicament, your struggling against your binds only digging into and stinging your skin as piping hot blood continued to trail down your tender wrists and ankles. It felt like frostbite was setting in. Was it actually, or was it your nerves? 

A pillar of black smoke began to rise from the ground in front of your masked captor, who then bowed with his forehead to the ground. Your own heart was beating in your ears so quickly you thought it would explode any minute. If only it would - you wouldn’t have to endure this any longer. 

“What... the hell do you want?” you hear a voice boom, distorted in such a way that made it sound like it echoed a thousand times. “Filthy human.” 

“Your favor, my lord. I offer you this virgin.”

You try screaming again, your throat beginning to feel scratchy and dry. It almost felt like it was bleeding. Could it be bleeding? Your mind was almost a haze, now. 

You can see a form emerge from the ground where the black smoke stands, and you’re stunned and scared into total silence as you see the silhouette of two large wings and a pointed tail. Other than that, the silhouette appears mostly human. But it’s not.

“My favor, eh?” you hear the voice again. The silhouette swings his arm and with it vanishes the smoke, and the reality that this... thing isn’t human finally settles in your heart. His hair is black and spiky, there are pieces of what look to be burnt flesh under his minty eyes and the lower half of his face, bound to the unblemished skin by silvery staples that seemed to spit steam. Three dotted piercings adorned his nose, and plenty more his ears. His wings reminded you of a bird’s with feathers and all, and they were a flat charcoal in colour, albeit they seemed a little worse for wear and severely burnt. The demon’s horns poked out from each side of his forehead and curled around like that of a ram’s. He wore a dark, simple cloak.  

You almost wondered if he had goat hooves for feet.

He looks down on the human who summoned him, literally and figuratively, it seemed. His eyes narrow viciously at the man, before jolting to you - and you, honest to all that exists, feel what you can only think of as a bolt of lightning course through every nerve - no, cell - of your body before it feels like your heart stops beating. You can feel the blood coursing in your veins, and it’s ice-cold, all of this forcing you to tense every muscle you’re able. He looks away and you’re instantly back to normal, slouching in your restraints.  

“Is this asshole bothering you, little one?” the voice of what’s clearly a demon rings.

“I-I beg your pardon, m’lord Dabi?” 

“Shut your trap, moron.” Clusters of the brightest, bluest flames you’d ever seen erupt above each of the demon’s eyes and he leans downward to grab the man by his neck, before easily lifting him in the air as the human choked. “Y’know, back in the day, sacrifices in some cultures were an honor. It was seen as a gift, a way to serve ancient -  nonexistent, mind you -  gods. People vied to become a sacrificial lamb. I’m ancient, too, you know that.”

The human man stammers and stutters, trying to say something coherent but failing out of fear.  

Dabi lets the man rest his feet on the ground as he jerks your captor to look at you, and you want to just shrink into yourself. “What the fuck is that, huh? Do you see the fear in her eyes? The bruises covering her body? The blood seeping down her arms as she fights against that rope? Does that look like a willing sacrifice to you? Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think she is willing at all.”

You blink. What? How? Why?

“You piss me off.”

Dabi throws the masked man to the ground away from him, then raising his palm into the air and summoning flames to filter out of the ground. They swallow him hole, and whilst he’s screaming in agony and burning alive, the demon turns on his heel and saunters your way. “Well, this is quite a mess, eh, dear?” His eyebrows are pointed upward, almost as if the gentle tone behind his words is sincere, yet almost as if there is deviance behind them.

You can’t help but gulp at the look in his eyes. Smile and arch his brows as he might, he was still clearly a demon unfitting of your trust. Right? He was going to hurt you. Surely.

His hands reach up for your face and you shut your eyes tight and turn away.

Much to your surprise, fingers work away at the handkerchief splitting open your poor, stretched, and saliva-coated lips, and you nearly gasp at the relief of pressure on them, the ache in your cheeks quite apparent and downright agonizing. Not only that, but the corners of your mouth were rubbed raw, and you weren’t sure if there was saliva mixing with more saliva, or blood mixing with saliva at the site. Dabi drags a finger from the corner of your mouth up to your cheek to wipe away the tears staining your skin, and you have no strength to fight the shiver that runs up your spine as your eyes fall half-lidded.

“Fuck me, you’re lookin’ a bit worse for wear, little one,” you hear him coo. “Easy, babe. You’re alright. That ugly, scary man’s all gone.” He seems to chuckle at the irony, before a toothy smirk splits his lips. His teeth are sharp, certainly enough to puncture skin without much effort, and you shiver again.

You’re quickly relieved of your bounds, but with the little strength you have left, you’re not able to stand on your own and collapse into his chest, spent and sore. He’s warm. It’s... nice. Fuzzy. Cloudy. Soft. Where are you, again? What’s going on? Why is everything spinning?

Everything fades to black.

:·•·:

You groan and turn over in your bed, pulling the fluffy covers up closer to your head as your body ached. You were warm and settled in, nothing could make you leave the comforts of your bed, yet you knew you needed to. To explain the achy joints, you tried reminiscing the night before. You remembered that night. Parts of it, anyway. When you tried to remember the feeling of being bound or the blood trickling down your wrists, nothing came up. When you tried remembering the chanting of your captor - nothing. It seemed that any parts which could be deemed... unsavory were gone from your memory. You brought your wrists up and felt around them and-

Also gone were any wounds.

It was odd. You could remember it all happening, but at the same time, you couldn’t. Must’ve been some whacked out dream induced by the alcohol.

You had no want to, but you sat up in bed and reached over to your nightstand to switch he clock around so you could see it. It read about half an hour after midday, and you sighed. How long were you asleep? You picked up your phone from the nightstand and switched it on, your heart leaping into your throat at the amount of notifications. Texts, emails, calls, there were dozens upon dozens of them.

“How long was I asleep?!” you shriek.

“Enough to nearly get evicted.”

Your head jolts up so quickly you hear your neck crack, and you see the demon leaning against the wall in front of your bed. You can’t help but gasp and scoot away, your back banging against the headboard of your bed. It wasn’t a dream.

He waves his hand lazily. “But don’t worry, I got it covered. Congrats, you have free rent for life, now.” His wings, horns, and tail are all gone, and he almost looks human, save for the staples and scars. You guess he can’t change his appearance much. Perhaps he doesn’t want to.

The teeth showing off from his smirk look just as sharp as before, however.

Your eyes are drawn to the huggies piercing the cartilage of his ears. They’re as shiny and plentiful as you remember. Your heart rate spikes, and you begin to breathe heavily.

“That soreness is probably from you bein’ out so long, sweets,” he comments, arms crossed in front of his chest, his right ankle also crossed over his left. His voice is smooth and a clear attempt at comforting you - yet there’s something behind it.

“Th-thank you. For saving me, and... the rent... I guess.” You hoped he would leave if you thanked him. Why else would he stick around?

He only shrugs, though. “Sorry, little one, but you’re not special. That sacrifice wasn’t done right in the first place.”

‘Ouch!’

Ah, you remembered that, now. But you couldn’t remember his name.

“What’s your name?” you ask hesitantly. He’s obviously not going to kill you by now. Why would he stick around?

“Dabi.”

“That’s it?” You tilt your head. You were surprised at how... nonchalant you were beginning to feel about this. The longer he stood there, the more it felt normal.

“That’s it, dollface.”

:·•·:

He ended up not having goat hooves for feet.

You knew there was a catch to being saved by that demonic bastard.

Aside from the fact that he wouldn’t leave you alone, keeping a demon cooped up in your apartment wasn’t easy. It especially wasn’t easy when said demon was constantly on your heels, pressed right up against your back. Personal space was not in his vocabulary. Dabi was constantly up to something, and he loved to harass or scare your neighbors with his devilish form; it was just too easy. “What else have I got to do while you’re gone all day?” he’d say. “Gotta entertain myself, somehow, doll.”

Apparently, it had been a long time since someone had summoned him at all, let alone with an offering of some kind. He hadn’t seen the mortal realm in hundreds of years, and because you were offered to him, he decided to stick around you. You only agreed to it as long as he never left your apartment.

Well, technically. He wasn’t actually giving you a choice, he was going to stick around anyway. Dabi so loved giving innocent mortals the impression that they were in control when they never truly were. The demon practically got off on the idea of giving a helpless little thing like you a false sense of security.

Having him essentially stuck to your hip, you couldn’t let him cause any trouble with the human world, be it harmless pranks or downright murder; hence why you left a line of salt in front of every opening to your place one day, to keep him home. He was a curious demon, a sketchy one.

And a bit of a horny one, at that.

If the groping or peeking in on your showers wasn’t enough of a clue, the fact that he did everything else in his power to seduce you certainly was.

Demons don’t sleep. They’re immortal, they don’t need to. Yet, as you lay snuggled up in your bed at night, he always snuck in with you to poke and prod at you, the exchange usually ending with you kicking him out of bed - sometimes literally. Other times, he’d randomly lean into your ear and say the filthiest things you’d ever heard - and then some, obviously - to get a rise out of you, giving him the opportunity to tease you about unconsciously clenching your thighs, whether it was for friction or out of denial.

You were starting to think he was a damn incubus.

But no, he denied that. He looked almost insulted when you made the insinuation before explaining that incubi and succubi are one and the same, changing back and forth between male and female. First as a succubus, the demon collects... “seed,” and then transforms into an incubus to “plant” it. He could change his physical appearance if he so wished, but he never had much want or need to, save for hiding away or using his devilish form; nor could he procreate, he was so proud to tell you.

It seemed the fact that you were a virgin only spurred him on to seduce you. With Dabi being the vile and damned being that he is, you thought he wouldn’t give a damn (ha) if you consented or not at first. The thought was honestly horrifying. Yet not once had he forced you or went too far. It was “poor taste,” he once said, there being no fun in it. You wondered if his rule of consenting sacrifices played a part in his discipline.

And of course, Dabi would go on about how badly he, a demon, an unsavory being to say the least, wanted to be the one to take your virginity and “defile” you, “the pure, innocent treat that you are.”

Defile? Really?

And treat?

‘Pick better wording next time you sex-starved, pointy-tail-having, staple-wearing, horned son of a bitch,’ you thought sarcastically, shoving dishes into their proper places after having dried them. He’d left you alone for most of the day, talking to you and treating you like he was a normal human being. ‘Then, maybe I’d consider letting you get your dick wet.’

Would you, though?

Nah...

Right.

One of the plates was a little wet still, and managed to slip out of your hand and shatter on the counter in front of you. You yelped when a shard cut into your palm after you’d instinctively reached to catch the plate, failing miserably. “Dammit,” you mutter, holding your left hand up to inspect the cut. From the looks of it, no stitches were needed, but it still stung like hell.

You should’ve known better than to think he cooled his jets for the day, because in an instant he’s standing next to your left side and reaching for your wrist.

“It’s fine, just a tiny cut,” you mutter, quirking a brow as he seemingly glares at the wound. “I think I’ve got a first-aid kit somewhere... Have to keep it clean, at least.”

“Nah, don’t need it,” he mutters, before pulling your hand toward his mouth. His tongue slithers out from between his lips and drags along the cut in your palm, the wet appendage searing against your skin.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, and yet another soars when you see the hungry, predatory look in his eyes, which are fixed on your wound. You can’t help the gulp that sounds from your tight throat, or the yelp that fights out of your lips when his whole mouth latches onto the fatty part of your thumb where the cut is. Your knees begin to feel weak and your eyes fall half-lidded.

Dabi sucks on the flesh there, licking the wound occasionally as well. His eyes then flicker to yours, and they burn into you like no other ever has. You feel the heat of a blush trail up your neck and to your cheeks and ears, your heart thrumming in your chest and lips slowly falling open just a tad as he licks away at the opening in your skin.

“Ah-“

The demon pulls away with a pop from one final suck of your flesh, whilst a trail of his saliva - do demons have saliva?! - hung between your hand and his mouth. “See? Take a look.” He pushes your hand towards your view, and amidst the clear wetness on your skin, you see no wound at all.

Your mind flips back to the wounds you should have had from that night.

“Back then... did you... y’know...”

“Naah. There’s spells and the like for bigger stuff like that,” he explains nonchalantly with a shrug. He almost seems proud of himself with his next line. “Tiny paper cuts like this can be taken care of with good ol’ fashioned demon spit. It’s nice, huh?”

You deadpan at him. “No, it’s totally gross.”

Dabi chuckles at you, waving a hand as if to wave you off. “Admit it. Your virgin ass enjoyed it.” His words are crass, but you know he’s only teasing and they’re not meant to insult.

Yet it still riles you up.

That heat crawls up your neck again, and you huff at him. “Shut up!” you gripe, then turning away from him to at least try to clean up the dish shards. There was nothing wrong with being a virgin! A lot of people wait for the right person, or they just aren’t ready. People have their reasons, and there’s no shame in it! Just like there’s no shame in being the opposite. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all that matters!

“Jerk! You seem to forget whose apartment you’re squatting in!” you grumble, scooting the pieces of the plate you broke together - ever so gently - with a washcloth from the sink. “I could kick you out, y’know.” You forgot for a short moment that he managed to achieve free rent for life for you, but you told yourself it wouldn’t matter anyway. It was still your apartment, after all.

“Really, now?” The demon scoffs, then leaning against the counter and crossing his arms - clearly at you. “How would you go about that, little mouse?” His tone is unconvinced and sultry, the look on his face painted with doubt.

You avoided eye contact with him and perused the kitchen for a plastic bag before marching back to the mess of plate shards and trying to sweep them off the counter and into the bag. “I’d exorcise you,” you mutter. Finding a priest in this area would prove difficult, but you could manage to find one willing to travel. You could do it if needed.

Dabi only laughs you off, though. The sound is smooth and velvety, yet you’re left to describe it as littered with smoke and ecstasy. “C’mon, doll! That wouldn’t work,” he says finally. “Besides, we both know you don’t wanna do that. You like havin’ my sorry ass around too much, eh?”

“Ha! You’re right about you being a sorry ass,” you sass with a huff before tossing the bag into the waste-bin.

Oddly enough, while you’d never tell Dabi this and end up stroking his already massive ego, you felt safer with him around. It was hard to pinpoint why. Nothing had happened for him to be called to protect you; however, you lived in a less than savory part of town, which wasn’t entirely unbearable, but shit still happens. And you’ve already been abducted once, leading to your acquaintance with this horny (I’m more ways than one) asshole. Maybe it was because you knew part of what he can do, all that aside. Push comes to shove, he’d protect you, right?

That was a nice thought to have, if a bit naive, you thought.

He was a demon, not a guardian angel of some sort. He had no obligations to you.

Yet here he was, still living with you over a month after that awful night.

Your thoughts are completely swept away when you’re pushed by the hips against the counter with your back to it, your hands instinctively bracing the edge on each side of your hips for support. The demon’s face is immediately in front of yours, his breath easily filling your nostrils with an ashen smell. You see those horns of his again and have to fight the urge to reach up and grab one, maybe even give it a tug. He’d probably cremate you for it.

Could he hear your thoughts? Previous instances somewhat insinuated that he could, but he never admitted to it - or denied it.

Dabi was right. You don’t want to get rid of him. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that. There is an intensity in those half-lidded, fiery eyes of his that has never before been directed at you by anyone, and it leaves you wishing you could read his thoughts. Are his eyes merely looking at your own, or are they bearing into your soul, calculating and appraising it?

What you can tell is that it’s full of impatience and want. Greed. Lust. And so much of it all.

You tilt your chin down a bit and look up at him with a gulp quietly. You can’t think of anything to say, and tension builds within your chest as you search; you feel as if that silence ought to be filled, yet here you are, at a loss for words as you stare at your own reflection in his glossy eyes. On the other hand, he seems totally content letting you lie in it, letting you squirm for him as he smirks.

And so you look away, bringing your hands to your chest and holding them there bashfully. The sleeves of your sweater are soft and warm and plush - just how Dabi would describe you right now.

This maneuver of yours not being what he wanted, Dabi scowls a bit and grabs your chin to essentially force you to look at him, his thumb ghosting over the softness of your lower lip. He tilts his head at you almost curiously, perhaps evaluating your reaction as it’s been so long since he has seen or felt the mortal world. Those eyes narrow at you, though not out of ire. Dabi’s thumb pokes at the crevice between your lips, and the rest of his fingers on your jaw tug downward.

Confused, you comply anyway and part your lips for him, only for his thumb to invade your mouth and press hard on your tongue, coaxing you to gag and instinctively grasp both hands on his wrist. You attempt to pull it away, to relieve the pressure in your mouth, but he doesn’t want that.

Hell, in reality, neither do you. You just don’t feel like gagging and clouding your vision with tears.

Aw, you poor dear.

With a contemplative hum he pulls his appendage out of your mouth and holds it not far from your mouth, as if planning another venture into your wet cavern. You can’t help but stare at the string of saliva still connecting your lips and his hand as it glistens in the low lighting of your kitchenette.

“Open back up for me,” he huskily demands, but it’s not cruel and dictating, so you comply, entranced as if under a spell. But you know you’re not. This time, it’s his forefinger and middle finger that roam between your teeth, and as if he had told you to do so telepathically, you close your lips around them. With an innocent, doll-eyed look, you suck his fingers and lick at them with your tongue, earning yourself hushed praises and a searing trail of touches up your ribcage and back down. You continue to lick away, occasionally wrapping your tongue around his digits or cradling them as you suck on them, coating them in your saliva as some of it trails out one of the corners of your mouth. They feel cold, as if there was a lack of circulation, and it only spurs you on to warm them with the toasty cavern of your mouth and soft plushness of your tongue.

You’re sure you’re less than apt at this, but the praise and touch you’re receiving helps you feel less... off.

Dabi leans in for your ear, his hot breath against your cartilage sending a chill down your spine before his wet tongue laps at it, and you jump in your skin at the burning, completely unknown sensation. It’s so hot it almost stings, but it’s not painful; tingly, maybe. In the process you lean away to your left a bit, at which he seems to pause. But then you lean back as if to tell him to go on, and you can nearly hear the simper he gives just before he latches onto your ear, licking and nibbling away as you tremble and whimper around his fingers. The heat at your core throbs in tandem with your racing heartbeat, creating a melody of your arousal that you hoped only you could witness.

But you knew better than to doubt the senses of a demon.

“You’re doin’ good, doll,” he breathes into your ear, aggravating the sound of blood flushing through your ears and the thump of your heartbeat. “Such a good girl for me...”

The digits in your mouth get a little adventurous and explore your wet cavern a bit, but they’re quick to push down on your tongue again and you gag around them. Tears start to pool within your eyelids and your whimper is stuck in your throat.

The demon then unceremoniously pulls his fingers from your mouth to reach down at the hem of your sweater and yank it up over the swell of your chest, leaving your torso and bra-covered breasts bare. Dabi seems to drink up the sight of you as if it were a sweet wine he hadn’t indulged in for centuries. Both his hands then trail ghostly fingers - really, they felt like spiders - up your belly and to your sternum. You shiver and a mewl fights out of your throat unexpectedly, your back arching unintentionally toward him as you clutch onto his forearms. Dabi lets out a hot breath, just thereafter his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your bra as he grinds his pelvis against yours, the outline of his hardened cock clear as day against you. You don’t even try to fight back the moan it elicits as your head droops back at the stimulation.

Why bother, right?

The inhuman entity before you takes the opportunity to use your open mouth, his own latching into yours and tongue exploring your mouth in a battle for dominance you have absolutely no hope to win as he makes a mushy mess of you. You accidentally lacerate your tongue on the sharp point of one of Dabi’s teeth and flinch a bit, the sting on your tongue nearly coaxing you to pull away while the taste of iron floods your mouths. That tase you could certainly live without only encourages him, as Dabi growls and grips the base of your neck to hold your head in place as he quite metaphorically devours your tongue with his own, before his teeth latch onto your lower lip and you squeak in surprise as he pulls away.

“Aw, what’s’a matter, little mouse?” Dabi taunts, left palm dropping to rub against your clothed sex.

“Ah, Dabi-!” You jolt at the sudden stimulation on your clit and breathe in hard. Even if there are a couple layers keeping his bare hand from touching you, if feels damn good to have someone else touch you like this. Ripples of warmth flood through you and you feel your body temperature rocketing. Your own breath feels as though it’s on fire as it leaves your heavily salivated mouth and bloody lips in rabid succession, alongside your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Your grip on his firm arms tightens and you resist the urge to grind against him as he continues his ministrations. “Fuck...”  Your lips throbbed, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the tiny wounds he created or your blood pressure spiking.

“Hm?” The demon hums, inquisitive and high in pitch - yet maybe condescending. “‘Fuck,’ huh?” His grip on the back of your neck relaxes only slightly before his tongue pokes out of his mouth and drags along your lower lip, lapping away at the blood pooling there and drawing a slight whine from you. “What about it? You sayin’ you want me to fuck you, doll? Tell me.”

Blood rushes to your face like there was a race and your eyes wander from his bashfully, instead choosing to look at the horns cutting through his spiky black hair. He’s right, you do, you have to admit it. But admitting it out loud was embarrassing! With a gulp you elect to simply nod, but his brows furrow and he’s clearly unimpressed considering the animalistic growl that claws out of his throat.

“Hey, I’ve been locked away from you humans for so long, y’know,” he breathes, his voice dark and low. “I’m a bit behind on gestures. You have to tell me.” This time, you can tell by the almost playful tone of his voice that he’s really lying and just trying to make you admit it aloud. Dabi’s palm leaves you before moving up to the waistband of your jeans while his other hand snakes up your neck and latches onto a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, say it. Where’s all that spunk from earlier? You’re all bark and no bite, little one.”

“Y-yes, Dabi. I... I want you to fuck me.” You finally meet his eyes again, and the hunger in them from before hasn’t faded at all; it’s only deepened. What else has changed was the hunger and arousal in your own eyes.

That smirk appears again and Dabi leans into your ear. “You want me to fuck you,” he parrots, “do you? You want my demon cock to take your virginity and fill you up? You want me to fuck you against this counter until your voice gives out? You’re a slut after all, little one. Beg like one, then.”

Your thighs clench together and you gulp. This was... not how you fantasized your first time to carry out. “Demon cock” was not something you’d ever thought you would hear someone say.

But who cares? Not you.

“Yes, please. Please!” You tug at his jacket in an attempt to coax him toward you, your knuckles turning white from your grip. “Please, fuck me with your demon cock...” Your this time voice is less loud and demanding, albeit it’s more desperate and pleading. “Please.” Your voice breaks this time.

Nor was it something you thought you would ever say.

A groan rumbles from Dabi’s chest. “Good little human. Keep it up, yeah?”

You squeak as he roughly yanks your sweater over your head before working to unbutton your jeans, his lips and teeth savoring your neck all the while. Your head cranes back again, a mute gasp leaving you at the sensation of his searing tongue on your recently sweat-slicked neck as his fingers work to remove your bra before they move onto yanking your panties down. At least, you thought he yanked them down, but a quick glance to the floor revealed he ripped them off, rendering them unusable.

“I liked those!” you whine, still panting.

“Tough luck. I didn’t.” It’s not like you need to wear panties around him anyway. He’d burn every pair you owned to mere ashes if it meant getting you to waltz around your apartment with no panties. They just got in the way.

“Daabi! Why would you-

“Oh god!”

You jump and thrust against Dabi’s hand when his fingers run through the slick of your soaked cunt, your breathing ragged, while he gathers the slick abundant there and edges toward your clit. His tactic coaxes ripples of pleasure that lull a low moan out of you.

“Ha,” he scoffs in your ear, “no gods have anything to do with it, babydoll.”

Dabi’s fingers finally work their way to your clit and circle around it a few times before rubbing in a steady rhythm around it. You moan at the combination of the bliss he gives you and the pet name, and your legs instinctively open wider for him as you mewl.

“I’m really not sure you are a virgin, doll,” he starts with a chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ soaked, you know that? Like a slut begging for my dick.”

“D-Dabi!” You flinch at the sinful words he’s spitting at you, embarrassed.

The demon’s digits leave your clit and trail back through your folds, and the wet, lewd sounds that result almost surprise you more than the fact that you want to fuck a demon. You buck your hips in hopes of encouraging his fingers back to your clit, albeit his other hand distracts you with a flick to your nipple, before it rubs circles over the sensitive nub as the rest of his hand palms at your tit.

“Ah, feels so good,” you find yourself muttering.

In response his ear seems to twitch. “Speak up.” His lips are sucking and nipping at your neck, either ignoring or enjoying the layer of sweat built up on your skin as the heat coming from his body begins to overwhelm you. Not that you mind either way. He’s definitely leaving a mark here and there as he works around your neck. Not that you mind either way.

“Your fingers... ah, feel so good!” Your head cranes backward, your hands dropping to the counter against your ass for support as your legs begin to feel weak. The shockwaves of pleasure his hands send through your nerves leaves you feeling weak and mushy.

“Good. Now hold still.”

You give a confused look, eyebrows pointed upward before you feel the tip of his digit poke at your weeping hole, eliciting a loud gasp from you when his finger plunges into your pussy with no reserve. You hiss at the sudden intrusion, you walls stretching pleasurably yet painfully as he slowly moves his finger around, letting you adjust. His other hand merely plays with your breast.

Biting your lip, you lean forward and plant your sweaty, flushed forehead on his shoulder. “Hey, it kinda hurts,” you whine.

“Just relax, doll.” Dabi’s voice isn’t as crass as it was before, nor is it entirely soothing. You figure he just doesn’t have it in him to coddle you, being a demon and all that.

You whimper as Dabi ever so slowly thrusts his finger in and out, the mixture of pleasure and pain not at all what you’d expected. When his finger hits a spongy spot, you jolt and moan for him, and he takes the opportunity to take over your mouth again in a wet, hurried kiss with a groan. Dabi swallows any and all sounds that you make, and in the process you feel the hand on your tit move downward to your hip before it swings around and wraps under your thigh to lift your knee up to his hip level. The muscles of your legs tensing and the choked moan in your throat tell him the pain is starting to very slowly fade away. At the realization, he carefully dips another finger into you and you moan, higher in pitch, into his mouth before he pulls away to stare at the sight of his fingers fucking into you for only a short moment. Dabi is then quick to shove his tongue back into your salivating mouth.

The lithe digits within your wet walls pick up pace gradually, giving you time to adjust and not barreling into you. By now there is still a barely-there stretch, and all the pain has essentially faded as the assault on your nerves takes place and you near an orgasm. Your eyes lull shut and your head cranes back, your hips almost thrusting involuntarily on his fingers as his pace keeps increasing and pushing you over the edge.

“I’m- ah, I think I’m...”

Dabi hums as if requesting you repeat yourself or perhaps simply acknowledging your sputtering, but you’re too busy moaning louder and and thrusting into the palm of his hand, to do so, as the coil between your legs tightens. His fingers graze over that same spot as before and you cry out for him, for which his fingers increase their pace even more rapidly and slam into that spot over and over and over again as he groans at the lewd, wet squelching resulting.

“Shit! I’m gonna cum, Dabi, I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it. Cum for me, babydoll.” His voice is much more authoritative and huskier, and as per Dabi’s demand you cry out almost loud enough for your neighbors to hear as your orgasm slams into you like a tsunami of pleasure crashing into your nerves. Your soft, hot walls convulse around his fingers in your release as he uses them to fuck you through your first orgasm of the night, with your hips still thrusting toward him uncontrollably as you go through your high and begin to climb down, panting.

Your head feels light in the best way possible and your legs are weak, so you whine lowly as he pulls his fingers from your heat with a pleased sigh. The second your legs give out, he catches you by the ribs before grabbing your trembling hips and lifting you onto the counter, with you latching onto him and holding tight all the while, your forehead on his shoulder and arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his hips.

Dabi drags the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, sending a jolt of calming, electric waves up your spinal cord as he repeatedly kisses your hair and ear on the side accessible to him.

“Atta girl,” he mutters into your hair.

Do you... thank him? He’s giving you a compliment, after all, right? Do you nod? Do you hum? You have the energy to do all three, but what response does he expect of you?

“I didn’t... do anything,” you mutter quietly, chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“Technically. Doesn’t matter because you will, soon.” He leans into your ear like he’s so fond of doing, his lips grazing your earlobe. “We’re not done, doll.”

Your legs twitch around him unconsciously, eliciting a deep, amused chuckle from the demon.

You see pointed pearly whites bear at you before he lifts you off the countertop and plops you down in front of him. Dabi’s hand squeezes your ass cheek, said hand then spinning you around to put your back to his chest. Searing breath on the back of your ear makes it twitch. “You’re wet and all, doll, but I’m not sure you’re wet enough,” he taunts, his hands splaying out on your abdomen and gently roaming around, fingers spread wide as they adore your body.

“For what?” Dabi’s chest against your back prevents you from turning around and giving him a confused look.

“My cock. What else?” he jabs.

Your curt reply is totally cut off and forgotten when you feel a wet tongue singe the side of your neck toward the back, and you gasp shakily.

“What to do, what to do...?” you hear Dabi whisper into your now-pebbled skin, his hands ghosting down toward your thighs.

“Oh.”

Remaining silent yourself, you could feel the damn lightbulb light up in the bastard’s horned head, but you didn’t know what exactly would entail.

Before you can ask what the hell he was on about, his fingers drove between your glistening  folds and prod around, as if measuring the lewd slick settling there. They quickly pull away after a quick hum from Dabi.

“Be a good little human and bend over, yeah?”

Without a word or thought against it you comply, bending over your countertop and leaning on your elbows a little. You gulp at the thought of your leaking cunt bearing for Dabi. You weren’t sure what he could see from this position, but you were a little embarrassed, nonetheless. With a gulp you shift your weight back and forth on your feet nervously.

Hands rub and palm at your ass cheeks as thumbs rub deeply into your flesh in a symphony of soothing touch. You sigh blissfully and spread your legs for the demon without realizing, but it’s over all too quickly when he instead moves your legs back together. You crane your neck to look at him. “Wha...?”

Wasn’t he going to fuck you from behind?

Suddenly the weeping tip of his cock slips between your thighs, gliding against your dripping cunt and through your folds. There’s no piercing despite his many others, though perhaps that was why he asked you to take him to a parlor not long ago.

Dabi’s cock manages to grace your clit and your body unwillingly jolts a little, still having been sensitive from your previous orgasm. A soft gasp leaves your swollen lips and you hear Dabi growl behind you while he pulls back from your ass end only to jut forward again. Legs beginning to tire out, you unconsciously spread them, only for his hands to push them together roughly.

“Don’t fuckin’ spread ‘em,” he hissed, hips holding still. The fingers on your thighs push deep with force sure to leave bruises while you hiss quietly at the stinging pain they bring to your nerves. But that sensation is quick to fade into something warm and euphoric yet electric and sensitive, causing your head to spin even though he’s not fucking your desperate pussy. He pistons his hips into your ass, and you mewl.

“That’s your last warning, fuck!” he grunts.

You nod vigorously, content with letting him fuck your thighs so long as he keeps grazing your puffy clit like this. His pace quickens and soon enough you hear loud skin slapping against skin, his hips jutting into your ass and balls pattering against the crevice between the soft flesh of your thighs. The quick pace and silkiness of his cock against your clit is euphoric, leaving you to wonder if it would be better than this if he were inside of you. Are you drooling? Your head droops lazily as you revel in pleasure.

The wetness and heat between your legs has increased several-fold, but it’s apparently not enough for Dabi. Your poor body rocks against the counter and your eyes are clenched shut, head fixated on the sensation of his cock grinding against your cunt and between your soft, drenched thighs. You weren’t sure if it was the position or your nerves going haywire, but your legs ached with a dreadful burn.

“D-Daaabi,” you whine pitifully, “my legs... aah, hurt...!”

A hand jumps to your navel and brings you back toward him to allow room for his fingers slithering to your cunt. Before they graze over your clit, they stop. “Cum for me, then,” you hear him command, voice deep and breathy and sending a chill up your spine. “Maybe when you’re done, I’ll take you to the bed and fuck you into the mattress. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, doll?”

“Yes, b-but,” you suck in a breath when his hand envelops your tit, “‘maybe?’” You parrot the word desperately, your head going blank as you near orgasm.

“Mhm.” You can hear the smirk in it, and the sound of the hum rumbling in his chest is oddly euphoric for you to hear.

You hated having him behind you like this. All you wanted in the moment was to latch onto him and relish in his heat no matter how intense it would be for a mortal like you. You wanted to touch him, to be able to see him, and he was depriving you of it all - very likely on purpose.

Your moans and squeals get higher in pitch and Dabi evidently picks up on your cues, thrusting against your cunt faster and faster until your entire body tenses.

You cry out his name ever so quietly, yet before you can climax he pulls away and leaves you panting and weeping, a whine escaping your throat. “But you told me...!”

“Changed my mind.”

“You’re a jerk!” you half-gripe and half-whine, standing up to glare at him. “I was so... so close, you know! You better make it up to me!” You huff and puff from the intensity of almost cumming.

“You’re awful feisty when I’m not touching you,” he remarks cockily.

You’re going to regret saying what you said. At least, that’s what the look in his eyes tells you when he spins you around. It’s dark and already you shrink in front of him. The next thing you know, Dabi’s pushing you against the counter and mumbling something into you ear, that something being an incantation that sends a trickle of electricity though every nerve of your body. Suddenly you’re cumming hard as heavy waves of pleasure wrack your cunt clenching around nothing rapidly as whatever the demon used on you pushes you through your orgasm, your toes curling and lips shrieking, head falling back so fast it almost slammed into the cabinet if he hadn’t caught it. You don’t register that you had wrapped your arms around his waist until his hands grasp them as if holding you there.

“How’s that for makin’ it up to you, eh?”

With his voice pulling a moan out of you, your poor brain goes foggy and full and it spins within your skull as you pant away, your body feeling heavy. Dabi grabs hold of you and lifts you onto the countertop when it seems like your legs are going to give out. “Hey,” he mutters into your sweaty neck, “don’t tire out on me. I wanna fill that pussy up with my cum ‘til it’s dripping out.”

You feel heat rush from your heaving chest up your neck to your cheeks. “Stop... that! You pervert.”

Dabi chuckles at you. You weren’t prudish, you were inexperienced. “What? Stop what, hm?”

“Talking like... that.”

He only hums, though, and he’s not to comply with your request. “Ya know, if you weren’t a virgin, I’d take your ass, too. Or put you on your knees and shove my cock down your throat until you’re chokin’ on it. Fuck, you’d sound like an angel.” Dabi chuckles at his ironic comparison, seemingly proud of himself for it.

You shrink in front of him and shiver, the room feeling so cold. You glance at your bedroom door and he notices promptly.

“I’ll carry you, for a price.”

Your eyes flicker back to him and the simper he flashes you would’ve had you weak in the knees had you been standing.

“Like what, my soul?” It’s a slightly genuine, slightly snarky question.

“Your mouth.” Dabi waves a hand at your widened eyes. “Not tonight. Maybe next time. You won’t know up from down and I don’t feel like playing teacher more than I already am.”

The demon doesn’t wait for your snarky remark before he picks you up and lugs you to your bed. You let out a noise when he literally drops you onto the mattress, your form bouncing atop it before he pins you to the bed roughly, so quickly you get dizzy. He dips his hips between your legs and spreads them wide while his mouth delves into the crook of your sweat-coated neck to let him begin suckling and leaving stinging marks with sweet, little kisses peppered in between.

It seems he’s suddenly gone soft on you, but it won’t last, even if you don’t know it.

Your back arches against him, ready to finally feel his torrid body against yours so that you can relish in his warmth despite the fact that your body was soaked in sweat; you wanted so much more, you needed it. Your next moan is dealt without a care who can hear, and thereafter with you wrap your arms around his neck tightly. Dabi grabs your hips and squeezes the plump flesh before his hands roam down your thighs to your knees as he hikes your legs around his hips, with you far too eager not to comply.

“Dabi,” you breathe, and he hums with one of his hands still on your hip as the other supports his weight by your shoulder. “Kiss me. Please.” Your voice is desperate and needy, and you’re starting to think this is more than lust pushing you on.

Had he used another demonic spell on you?

When Dabi complies, his hips grind against you to allow his hardened cock to nudge the folds of your glistening pussy.

This time around, with his tongue prodding in your mouth at a slower, more passionate pace, you catch on and realize he has a tongue piercing. Your walls clench at the thought of what it would feel like licking stripes up and down your soaked cunt, wondering whether it would be cool to the touch or searing hot due to his body temperature.

Searing hot would be the answer, though you don’t know that as of now.

The demon grinds against you as he devours your mouth with his own, his weeping cock sliding through your your wet folds. On the other hand you’re careful not to cut your tongue on his teeth again, albeit he wouldn’t complain if you did; if anything he’d encourage it. Your hands splay on his hot back, and you wonder that if leaving them on his searing skin for too long will burn you. If it gave you the opportunity to roam your fingers over his muscles and caress the staples, goddamn would it be worth the burns. With a sigh into his mouth your hands move from his back to grab onto those horns you’d thought about, your grip gentle yet exploring as you try to focus on feeling the rough texture of them.

Dabi pulls away from you to pepper open-mouthed kisses among your jawline, growling all the while. “What’re you doing?” he brusquely asks between the wet gestures, and you croon. His voice was so rough and gravelly while the gestures were soft and... sweet. You almost dare to say it was heavenly.

“Just feelin’ ‘em, babydoll.”

You throw his pet name back at him purposefully, and the mockery elicits a dark chuckle from him. Ever so slowly, you were beginning to learn how to be more brazen. You were getting comfortable with him on this intimate level. You’d already been comfortable in some way with him living forcibly in your apartment for over a month, but not on this level, not like this.

The stapled hand on your leg disappears before it reappears in your hair and gives a pull - not a yank - to tilt your head back and further expose your neck. You expect him to ravage it with his mouth like earlier, but he stopped to admire his apparent handiwork. You can’t see the marks he’s left, albeit he’s apparently satisfied as he smirks.

“What’re you doing?” you mimic him playfully.

“Thinkin’ about how I want you, of course.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

In response, you huff at him.

“Let’s see,” he begins, moving closer to you, his breath fanning the lower half of your face as his eyes bore into your soul, “chest up against the wall, or on your hands and knees... hell, maybe just your knees...” He moves down so that his breath reaches just under your jaw, his eyes still staring intensely up at you while his hand slithers to your tit, rolling the hardened bud under his finger and you mewl. “...could always put you in a mating press and fuck you like a bitch in heat... I might even let you get on top, if you’re a good girl. Decisions, decisions, eh?”

“What,” you huff, “you mean, with all that whoring and harassing you did, you never thought this through?” You mirror his smirk with your own quirked brow while you rub the horns on his head, thoroughly enjoying their soft yet rippled texture.

“Oho, that’s the problem, doll. I’ve thought about it too much.” Dabi’s teeth put on a show for you to see from his widening smirk. Next thing you know, his fingers are pinching and tugging your nipple roughly for the first time and you keen under him from the shock before his wet mouth matches onto your other tit, tongue lulling over the bud. You mewl and flick your head back, chest heaving in your panting as you feel him suction onto your plump skin and suck away with a sopping, hot mouth, his low sigh into your skin blissful.

Your hands drop to his shoulders as a result of the distraction his mouth brings. Demonic saliva coats your tit and glistens in what little silvery moonlight filters through your blinds, all while you feel the pull of your leg over his right shoulder and prodding at your weeping heat with the tip of his cock.

“Ya know what?” he murmurs into your skin, “I wanna see these lovely tits of yours bounce.” With his other hand he guides the tip in and gives a moan at how warm and slick the entrance of your cunt is around him. And tight as hell, too. Of all the summons he could’ve answered, he answered the one that, unbeknownst to Dabi, lead to you, just on a whim. And fuck, if it wasn’t worth it.

You whine and writhe underneath him, needy as can be, as your entrance clenches around the head of his cock.

“Use your words, babydoll.”

You groan at him. “Just please hurry up and fuck me!”

“Your wish is my command...” Dabi’s voice is full of tease and mockery, which makes you want to bite his tongue.

Without any warning he sheaths his cock all the way into you as a groan escapes his throat, and you jolt at the sensation of suddenly being so goddamned full, your lustful gasp resonating off the walls of your bedroom. That one hard pump of his hips sends a wave up pleasure through your nervous system and the stretch of your tight walls leaves you wanting more. He’s much longer and thicker than his fingers, and you can’t help your cunt clenching around him like it does. The subconscious movement has Dabi groaning and panting out as you clench on his cock, and he still can’t help but relish in how fucking worth the wait you are.

That stretch of your cunt is back again, sweet and sinful as before. His cock brushes against all the right places, filling you up perfectly and having you drool for more.

Dabi holds still at least, though you can tell it won’t be for long.

“So goddamned tight,” he spits through his teeth against your neck, fighting the demanding of every cell in his body to fuck you like a rabid animal. Dabi’s hot breath fans over your neck, his teeth clenching as a result of your tightness around him.

His hips slowly start pushing and pulling to gently thrust his throbbing cock in and out of you, slowly letting you adjust before he can pick a normal pace.

...is what you thought he would do.

But nay, he begins with slow and agonizingly yet blissfully hard thrusts into your wet core, his grunts being drowned out by your wails and mewls as he slams into your sopping cunt. The lewd sounds of wet skin slapping slowly against skin and hot squelching mixes into it all, creating a melody of sin only you and Dabi share, that only the two of you can hear.

You were definitely going to hell, by now. But hey, good dick seemed worth the eternal damnation. Right?

With one particularly hard thrust, Dabi bites into the crook between your neck and shoulder, unexpectedly not breaking the skin, eliciting a cry from your parched throat and your eyes shut tight. The teeth latching onto your skin feel less sharp and more human, as he’s morphed them not to tear into your flesh and draw blood. He’d never hear the end of it for getting blood on your sheets, he knew that. Besides, if he wasn’t careful it would kill you.

He doesn’t want that happening again. Ugh. That was a godsforsaken mess - literally.

With every pounce of his hips, your tits bounce on your chest like he set out to do and he was sure to take in the sight of it all very well, having waited over a month for it. The smarting pang you felt earlier when his fingers fucked you is completely gone by now, leaving you to writhe and thrust your own hips from the overwhelming fucking of your senses.

“Dabi, Dabi!” you sob, your thoughts blending together until nothing but the demon inside of you remains in your consciousness. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, drawing a thick, black liquid in the deep crescents, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Words, babydoll,” he breathes out, emphasizing the first word with a thrust. “C’mon, you know better.” He groans above you.

A yelp and another, higher in pitch slap of skin resonates within the room amidst the wet, sloppy ones and his grunts, but it doesn’t register that he’s slapped the underside of the thigh perched on his shoulder until you feel the pulsating sting that scatters through your leg. The yelp was apparently yours.

“Faster!” Your voice is devoured by a whiny tone and squeals that fight out of you, but it’s drowned out by the rhythm of his hips against yours.

Another slap hits your senses, and you cry out, tears flooding your eyelids. All you need is a little push.

“So fuckin’ demanding... Where are your manners, little mouse?” His lips are on your ear again, almost as if threateningly. “I’d be a little more... ngh...  polite if I were you.” The covers bunch and roll under your body when it’s slid back against them from the hardest thrust he’s graced you with yet, the process bringing a shriek out of you and shock as a result of his hitting that special spot after angling his hips just right and causing your poor head to spin. With Dabi then yanking you back to where you were with the hand on your thigh above the reddening cloud of flesh, you croon underneath him as he stops fucking your dripping wet heat altogether. You’re left to stare into his fiery blue eyes directly while hot breaths flood out of you in rapid succession. His nose almost touched yours, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re at my mercy, doll. If I don’t want you to cum, you won’t.”

“Nonono, I’m sorry! Please! Please! I’m sorry!”

A cross between a hum and growl leaves his throat, and you shrink underneath him.

“‘Please,’ what?”

“Go faster, please!”

Dabi’s teeth are on your neck again when he picks up his thrusting into you, increasing in speed and fucking your sopping pussy like you had requested. With his hands on your hips, the demon mutters praises and moans into your neck and you sputter incoherent gibberish when you’re not gasping for air and squealing and bawling out from his almost inhuman, blissful pace. The leg wrapped around his waist clenches as hard as you’re physically able as he slams into you, and while your senses are being ravaged and brutalized, you hear faintly those wet squelching noises and the sounds of metal and wood creaking. You weren’t sure if the thrumming in your eardrums was your heartbeat or your headboard hitting the wall, but the thought of the latter rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Dabi angles his hips just right and smacks his cock into that oh-so-special spot within your soft cunt, and the jolt of pleasure and utter bliss that results brings you back to reality momentarily - yet still somehow throwing you out of your mind.

“Right there! Dabi! Oh, fuck!” You sob with a slur, your hands grasping and clawing at his back desperately. Incoherent garbling follows thereafter, and Dabi doesn’t even try to decipher it even if it is silk against his ears.

The fingers gripping onto your hips are so tightly embedded into your skin, Dabi’s sure they will leave round little bruises in their wake and he relishes in the idea, but the sting they bring you feels so damned good, you welcome it, too. The tension that builds within your cunt keeps building and building, your hot walls clenching around Dabi as you near carnal release. You’re close, so fucking close to the height of true bliss, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch as your back lifts off the mattress without you willing it. You feel that familiar tingle before-

It stops.

You sob at the utter emptiness and lack of release, your head spinning.

The ancient bastard denied you of your orgasm.

Chest heaving up and down in your panting, your wordless whine and protest at the emptiness you can feel is seemingly ignored by Dabi. The lack of warmth at your pulsating core is almost... cold. So cold.

“Wh-why...?” you whine.

The demon lets out a breathy groan. You can feel him dip his lips to your collarbone and smirk. “Just ‘cause.”

Quickly the demon sits back on his haunches and your arms droop off his shoulders. Dabi blinks at you with his hand holding your ankle to his shoulder, all the while staring you down with an intensity that has you feeling small, like an ant before an elephant. You’re so vulnerable and naked under his unwavering gaze, it’s nearly frightening. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It’s soft but it’s predatory. He drinks in the sight of you leisurely.

You know damn good and well blood is rushing to your face, your hot breaths leaving you in weak puffs.

“Aren’t you precious?” you hear him remark with a toothy smirk. “Just for me. Right?”

You nod.

Demonically slitted eyes narrow at you darkly. “Say it, then,” he demands.

“Just...” you pant, “for you.”

Dabi’s hand pulls your ankle off him and puts your foot flat against the bedding next to his knee as he looks down at you. The moonlight striking the vibrant color of Dabi’s eyes is breathtaking, if your breath could be knocked out of your lungs further. It almost forced you to liken the sight with tinted ice, with icy waters off Iceland or perhaps glacier-dwelling seas of the Antarctic. And yet, you knew better.

The sight before Dabi was more than he’d expected, albeit just as sinful. Seeing you splashed out in bed, sweating and panting and dripping in your own essence just for him drove him wild. You were so adamant against fucking him, about retaining your innocence and saving it for the “right” person, in the beginning. And yet now, you let him do as he pleases and he didn’t doubt it would be the first time. He knew better.

“Get on your hands and knees, love.”

That was a first. “Love?” You like it more than the several others. It was smoky and gravelly and breathy all once.

Without your knowing your eyes soften and you grin the tiniest grin at the demon, knowing he won’t return the favor and be as gentle and sweet with you. He’s quick to quirk a brow at you, but you turn on your side to maneuver your body around and comply with Dabi’s command. Your breath has evened out by now, as you prop yourself on your elbows with your ass pointing out to Dabi, weeping cunt ready to be filled. It was embarrassing being on display like this again. You glance back at him with curious eyes, only to be met with silence and what felt like a dark presence. He’d gone cold on you.

You feel a hot hand on the nape of your neck and swear on whatever god you used to believe that your skin sizzled for a bit, while another lands on your left hip as his cock presses up against your folds and slithers through between your legs a couple times, gathering the slick of your essence - as if it needed to! - before he delves into your pussy once again. You croon in front of him, and the moan that comes out of Dabi has you clenching around his cock for the countless time. He mutters something untranslatable to you and pushes down on your nape, easing you face-first into the mattress. Your bedding was so soft and warm from your own body heat. Maybe it was leakage from the demon’s body temperature, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was a mix of both, intermingling like perfectly-cut pieces of a puzzle.

With a sharp moan, Dabi bottoms out in you, your mewls being swallowed by the bedding pressing against your cheek. You sigh into plush warmth, but the soft and gooeyness you feel is quickly torn away by a harsh snap of Dabi’s hips. Your gasp is cut through by a squeak from your throat, only urging him further as you already feel that coil tightening and readying to snap. You feel him shift a little against you, and you try to glance at him as much as you can before he begins thrusting into you again. That hard but slow pace makes its appearance for a short while, and hot damn is it heavenly. You moan and whine completely unabashedly. The walls of your apartment were thin and cheap, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

It was just an effect he had on you.

So what if your neighbors knew your were getting railed by a demonic being from ages past?

He certainly wanted them to know.

Dabi’s pace picks up again and you already feel the ripples of pleasure soaring through your body from your clenching cunt, your grip on the fabric underneath you tightening as you fight back the urge to bite into it. Even the lewd slaps of his hips against your ass are louder and quicker, and fuck aren’t they wetter. Dabi himself seems proud of this.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs almost burn like the hand on the back of your neck, your keening and sobbing getting higher in pitch and filled with rushed air. His thrusts only seem to get deeper and harder, if it were possible, and your eyes close shut tightly as your body trembles. Dabi adjusts his hips and continuously hits that oh-so-sweet spot that makes your head cloud over totally, his head falling back at the way your pussy hugs him tight.

“Dabi!” you sob. “Don’t stop, please!” Your wording is heavily slurred and slightly hushed from the impact of his fucking your nerves and your cheek being pushed into the bed, but you manage, nonetheless. You can’t fight back the drool that droops out the corner of your mouth.

The demon chuckles. Dabi could hear you say his name like that for a thousand years straight and it wouldn’t be enough. “S’pose you’ve been a good girl, babydoll. Go on, I’ll let you cum.”

The hand on your neck moves to your shoulder and soon enough, your chest and face are removed from the sheets, albeit you’re still on all fours as he fucks into you. Thereafter you feel the piping heat of his chest against your back, a crude reminder of the seven layers of arson Dabi’s capable. His hand holds you still while he continues to wrack your body with thrusts into your wet heat. You feel his fingers rub and circle your clit after a torrid hand snakes around your ribs and down your navel, and the pace of Dabi’s fingers is almost in beautiful tandem with his fucking as he hits that special spot over and over and over again. You can feel your essence flowing down the insides of your thighs like you thought wasn’t even possible, pussy dripping onto your bedding.

Ah, fuck.

With a lustful shriek, your spongy walls convulse around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, your vision going white as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body rocks back and forth, legs twitching and torso shuddering. It takes almost everything Dabi has not to cum then and there, his hiss and loud growl being evidence of that. You just feel so good, why wouldn’t he want to cum now? But no, that would be a treat for you later.

Your clutch on the bedding underneath is as tight as you’re fully capable, and your knuckles turn white while you revel in your own personal bliss, courtesy of whatever the hell Dabi is. The intensity of it all has your head spinning and body pulsating. Poor body beginning to come down from the fierce high, you wondered if Dabi would stop and let you bliss out - but nay; he continues to fuck you like an animal and abuse your clit while you cry it all out. You were drenched in sweat, your cheeks flooded with tears you didn’t know were there until now.

“Too much, too much,” you squeak quietly, so quiet you’re not even sure he could hear you. But maybe it was incoherent. Maybe you were babbling and drooling like a fucked out hole at this point. Was it getting overwhelming? Yes. Did it feel ungodly good? Fuck yes.

“You’re so fuckin’... wet, though,” he pants, before slowing down slightly. “I think you’re playing innocent. You like this, ah, don’t you?” Dabi groans as you continue to flutter, sensitively, around him. “You want me to fuck you stupid, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, right?”

Dabi chuckles at your lack of response and continues to ram into your soaking heat with your cries and squeaks only urging him further. An attempt to glance at Dabi is mostly thwarted by the pace he’s taken on, or maybe it’s because everything’s spinning - or is it the tears flooding from your eyelids - you manage to meet his icy, slitted eyes once, which prompts him to poke kisses at your nape and behind your ear. You feel that familiar warmth in your entire pelvis, you cunt clenching down on his cock as the waves of pleasure intensify.

“Dabi, I- nnn, it’s too mu-much,” you whine. “Please.”

“Nah, you’re okay, babydoll,” he drawls cockily, voice gravelly and breathy enough to make you cum on command. “I think you’ve got a few more for me, don’t you? C’mon.” He makes a point to hit your g-spot harder than before after he’s done talking, and goddamn does it take the air out of your lungs. You choke on your own spit when you feel that piping hot hand patted against your asscheek repeatedly.

Your shriek and wet slopping fills the room as you cum yet again, albeit this time the pressure on your nerves feels different - smoother, warmer - and the tingle in your belly is intense as your scream feels like it claws at your throat until it bleeds. Your thighs are drenched in your juices, cunt twitching and clenching in the aftermath of your mind-splitting pleasure. You mumble and whimper as he finally slows down and gives you a sliver of mercy, both of his hands now holding you up by your hips when your torso slowly droops down like it was before. Dabi chuckles behind you quietly as he comes to a halt.

“You good, doll?”

He’s definitely not sincere.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you heave and pant, the fabric in your fingers wrinkling in their grasp.

“Oi, you can’t quit on me now,” he demands. “I haven’t cum yet and I gotta make you squirt again.”

Trying to get a whole, solid word out was a struggle as a result of your heavy breathing and the overstimulation. Your head was fuzzy and the room was spinning like a damn typhoon, and for a split moment you thought you’d fallen unconscious. What spills out is garbled nonsense.

The demon hums that inquisitive hum again, urging you to speak.

You lift your cheek off the bed slightly, as you’re able. “Will...”

You’re not sure why, but the thought of Dabi skipping off after taking your virginity so unceremoniously rang into your thoughts, giving you a sense of loneliness and anxiety. Why, though? Why now?

“Huh?” He leans in so close, his horn bobs off the side of your head when he arches over you to put an ear to your lips. “Try again, love. Go on.” He sounds quite intrigued, probably the most you’ve heard him.

“Will you... hah, leave... me?”

The grin against your neck is dark.

“Whaddya mean, little mouse?”

His voice was downright excited. You were worth the wait. How long had it been since he’d had a human so obedient, so innocent yet so easily corrupted? You were his, now - whether you liked it or not was irrelevant. But he knew you would. Dabi had grown on you far more than you’d ever admit, he knew that for a fact. You were clearly enjoying yourself now, anyway. And it didn’t take magic to do all of this, save for one here and there to coax you to enjoy yourself and to bring out subconscious feelings. Like right now. You felt these things, he just amplified them to an unbearable extent. Whoops. You poor thing.

“Don’t go.”

Eyes half-lidded and droopy, you turn your head to look back at the demon, only to be met with sharp teeth shown off in a naughty grin. You blink once and you could’ve sworn you saw an image of a black, smoky aura surrounding him.

“If you can handle me, dear.”

You nod against the bed slowly before trying to push your ass against him with what little stability you have. Even if his cock was still buried in you, without any movement you felt empty and... alone.

“I thought it was too much?” he quips, hand rubbing at your reddened ass cheek in a way you have to describe as soothing. It felt so silky and mellow. Yet you knew he was far from that. “Well? I thought you were bitchin’ out on me like the virgin you are.”

“In... insi... inside,” you sputter shyly, mental clarity not quite returning, albeit you manage enough to think of that at least. You want him to cum inside, to know what it feels like to be stuffed full of his cum, to feel his cock twitching inside after his release. “C-um.”

You never would’ve thought about that before you met him. Why would you feel this way?

“Aw, what is it?” The hum that results from his scarred throat is dark. “You want me to cum inside right now? I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet.” His voice is bastardly and maybe even a little teasing, and he sighs almost happily at your squirming. “Asking me to cum inside like that the first time you get fucked - such a whore. Have I fucked you stupid already, doll? Shame, I thought you’d hold out better than that.” Dabi clicked his tongue and shook his head, though you can’t see. “Broken so early. Guess there’s no point in me stickin’ around after all, huh?”

A noise sounds from the back of your throat in protest and nearly unbeknownst to you, drool slithers out the corner of your mouth. Dabi seems to ignore your noises as his hands adjust your hips, giving you enough friction to elicit a whine from your lips. You can’t register this at the moment, but Dabi was a victim to his own whims and could be a mix of soft and downright mean in the bedroom, and there’s no telling which will arise. Sometimes he’ll want skin against skin, tongue lashing against yours, fiery pleasure; sometimes he wants to insult you and lash his hand across your ass cheek, leaving bruises or drawing blood wherever he can.

“I was gonna make you convince me,” he breathes, slowly thrusting. “But considering you’re still conscious, I think that’s enough.” Dabi chuckles behind you. Well, you were only conscious as per his meddling. He was the one keeping your consciousness pulled to the surface, preventing you from letting go of reality and passing out. “You’re most welcome to cry and beg, though, babydoll.”

Hell, that list was half-checked off. Tears stained your cheeks and blurred your vision already, and the more he fucked into you, the more they fluttered out. Your lungs burned at this point, a searing heat cutting through your chest. Anything you try to say comes out incoherently, a sputtered and garbled mess, when it’s not a pitiful sob.

You push your hips back against him in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock while Dabi fucks your puffy cunt, drawing a condescending chuckle from him. The jolt of overstimulation beckoned you to crawl away and relieve yourself of him, but the need to have him thrusting and cumming inside you overcame it. His release and what it would feel like to have his cum mixing with your juices and dripping out of you was all you could think about, as if entranced in a spell that bound your consciousness to that one thing. The rest of your thoughts were jumbled and incoherent even to you, the drool trickling out your mouth and the rolling of your eyes into the back of your head representative of that.

As Dabi watched your pussy envelop him, he couldn’t help but envision his name carved into your asscheeks with a sharpened claw of his. Ah, the squeals and squeaks that crawl out of you would be divine in the most sinful way possible, and the threads of blood that would trickle down your skin would taste head-spinningly beautiful. Maybe next time. Dabi’s jaw clenched at the throb of his cock within your sputtering, velvety walls, the tightness in his abdomen building. Just one more...

“Fuck, little one...!”

As the demon drags sharp claws up your thigh and asscheek, it leaves red ribbons in its wake and the squeeze of your cunt and pitiful squeal tells him well that you’re enjoying it far more than you ever thought you would.

“Such a good fucking human... good fuckin’ hole,” he grunts, voice strained. His hand plants on the middle of your back and pushes hard, bowing your poor back as his other hand keeps your hips up, his cock ramming into you at a faster pace. Dabi lets out a loud groan when he sees the blissed out, tear-stained, drool-covered face of yours before his thrusting loses rhythm and he suddenly feels your pussy flutter around him hard in orgasm again, soaking him in your slick again. Finally he allows himself to find the release you’d internally begged for, fucking into you at a less than rhythmic pace as his own mind begins to become overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Ah, shit. Fuck, fuck, motherfucking-!”

Dabi soon finds his teeth embedded into your flesh and gripping it hard enough to leave a bruise or even cut into the skin as his hips move entirely on their own against you. With a strained moan he cums, thick, warm ropes of cum painting your fluttering, sensitive, and overstimulated walls as you literally cry and sob underneath him, his hips still involuntarily thrusting into you as your cunt milks him for all he’s worth.

“Fucking hell,” he bites out, body relaxing against yours as he comes down from the high, yet he doesn’t pull out. “I missed this.” His voice is breathy and littered with pants against your neck. Dabi leaves a few wet kisses to it before leaning back and slowly pulling out with a groan, leaving you empty and dripping before him. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out but is quick to gather it with his fingers and push it roughly back into your pulsating cunt.

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

Your poor head spins and you don’t know up from down, so Dabi ushers you to lay down and before he knows it, you’re passed out asleep. Eh, he’ll consider aftercare next time maybe. With a yawn that’s more out of sudden boredom than it is exhaustion, Dabi lays down next to you and props his head up with his hand, leaning against his elbow as he watches you sleep peacefully, a complete contrast to a few mere minutes ago. With a smirk he wipes the tears off your cheeks. Those cheeks...

“I oughta answer sacrifices more often.”

[shhhlikeme]

Hi love, just wanted to say that you’re so gorgeous and have a lovely smile. I’m a dark skin black girl and have often been told/read hurtful posts about us, but now I’m more confident than ever about being a dark skin girl 🥰.If it’s not too much to ask could you do any character you want with that has a date with his s/o and when he arrives she just glowing in her yellow dress. Like idk if you get the vibe I’m tryna put down but the melanin is hitting different 🤤

Thank you so much for the compliments omg ❤️❤️❤️

BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE beautiful! I know black women don’t hear that a lot and that’s why I will tell y’all everyday if I need to. Also, today is national economic blackout day for the culture, therefore I waited to post this today.

& as per your message I absolutely get the vibe!!!!! And you know I had to choose the GOAT Akaashi for this since you left it up to me👀

Here goes:

————————————-

Akaashi Keiji x Black Crush In a Beautiful Yellow Dress (Fluff)

————————————-

Akaashi was NOT ready.

You and Akaashi had been besties for 10 or so years, because your moms have been in the same book club since elementary school

Even though you recently graduated from to different high schools, you both had a good and healthy friendship

You knew that he wasn’t big on talking a lot but you spoke even less than him so it honestly worked well

He was into volleyball and you were really serious about dance

Your moms would always say you just “get” eachother

To Keiji, he was content with having the best of both worlds as best friends: Bokuto: the loud boisterous one, and You: the quiet, beautiful one

Wait did he say beautiful? He meant um... the quiet, wallflower one. sure

Nah he definitely meant beautiful too.

Tbh, Akaashi was very attracted to you via your personality because you were thoughtful, intelligent and relaxing to be around

He thinks of you as the human embodiment of a warm bath at the end of a moving day

And as for your looks.....

Bokuto put his best friends physical attraction to you into words best when he said:

“You want to have Y/N’s babies, don’t you Akaashi? Hmmmmm?”

Akaashi, deadpanning asf, would always answer

“No I do not.”

But when Bokuto would continuously catch him on your instagram page he would keep asking like the pushy friend he is.

At Bokuaka sleepovers, or when they were completely alone is the only time Akaashi would reluctantly but honestly respond to Bokuto’s question with a:

“I wouldn’t mind.”

which is basically undying admission of love by Akaashi standards

Basically, he was crushing on you hard

He admired your dark hair that you always changed into different styles because he never understood how you made them all look attractive

He admired your full lips that he always seemed to have to internally yell at himself to stop staring at when you spoke

He admired your kind and gentle spirit that always seemed to gravitate toward earth tones in attire-expression and he never seemed to understand why

He guessed that being the wallflower that you are; dark colours like black, brown, beige, grey, moss, etc. Acted as a shield as to not bring too much attention to you

He didn’t really care that you stuck to wearing earth tones because you looked beautiful no matter what you wore

But in his dreams he’d always pictured you in bright pink, blue, orange lingerie shirts

He was curious so he asked one day

totally not because he wanted to know how realistic his dreams could be

“Y/N, why do you only wear dark colours?” Asked the most beautiful guy in the world Akaashi as he turned the steering wheel making a left onto the parkway.

The two of you were going to his brother’s wedding rehearsal dinner. You had decided to wear a simple dark button down blouse tucked into a grey pencil skirt. Your curly hair was up in a messy bun and you had your glasses on. You thought you looked whatever.

Akaashi, on the other hand, thought you looked stunning. And like a hot librarian. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the road and not your exposed legs as you sat beside him in the passenger seat.

“Do I?” You looked down at yourself and sighed. You’d never really noticed before, but he was right. You just felt more comfortable in tones that didn’t make you stand out.

“Yeah. Why don’t you try wearing a bright colour sometime? I think......I think you’d look really nice.” Keiji’s eyes looked unaffected as ever but inside he was kicking himself for flirting with you, knowing how shy you are.

“Oh, okay.” Your heart fluttered at your friend’s compliment and you distracted yourself by taking your eyeglasses off and using your blouse collar to clean it where it opened on your chest.

Akaashi almost crashed because when you did that your blouse opened more exposing your glowing chocolate skin. In his mind, his imagination took over and he pulled over to ravish your beautiful skin by ripping open the blouse and kissing your gorgeous dark skin. His eyes glazed over as he imagined you telling him that you want him closer than this car allowed and so he dropped your seat down and got on top of you, kissing your delicious lips and then going back to taste your delicious skin. You were moaning in his ear which was the best sound he’s ever heard and then it was his turn to moan when you reached down to stroke his hard........

“KEIJI-SAN WATCH OUT!”

Keiji was thrust back into reality when he rapidly swerved back into his own car lane. The first thing he did was check to see if you were okay and he was able to breathe again when he saw you looking back at him laughing that angelic laugh. You placed your glasses back on your beautiful face and Akaashi apologized. He asked if you were scared and wanted him to stop driving because he was obviously a new driver. You only placed a hand on his arm and shook your head, assuring him in your quiet voice.

“It’s okay Kashi’, I know you’re a great driver. I trust you.”

“Y-you do?”

“Of course. I trust you more than anyone.” You gave him that smile that he thinks about before he goes to sleep every night and just like that he relaxed and all was well in the world again. He thought back to Bokuto’s daily question, admitting to himself that he not only wanted to have your babies, he wanted to have the pleasure of calling you his girlfriend or anything higher. He’d definitely accept wife.

“Maybe I’ll go shopping with my mom and find a colour to wear to the wedding, you know, take your advice.”

“That would be great.” He pulled into the beach wedding venue parking lot. “I’m ready to see the new Y/N.”

But Akaashi was NOT ready

He was absolutely the furthest thing from ready, 3 weeks later, when he picked you up on his brothers wedding day.

He knew you were still getting ready inside and so he decided to enjoy the weather and lean on his car hood to wait

You never took long because you were a natural beauty, but you put on a little bit of makeup today

You grabbed your clutch and touched up your edge control before spritzing yourself with some of Akaashi’s favourite perfume

You went outside and locked your door.

Turning around, you literally wanted to freeze this moment in time, because THE Keiji Akaashi—literally the most stunning boy 90% of girls have ever seen—was standing outside of his car, much to your surprise

He had his navy blue tuxedo jacket folded over his left arm and he wore a light grey dress shirt underneath held together by a black bow tie. His disheveled hair looked like he had sat in the barber chair of Jesus himself and he hadn’t noticed your arrival yet since you were still on the steps of your deck.

You took a second to compose yourself before stepping toward him as if everything was normal—as if you weren’t lawlessly crushing on this man.

Hearing your heels clack on the smoothed pavement, Akaashi lifted his head up to see you

Remember when I said he was not ready?

Allow me to show you exactly what he wasn’t ready for:

Akaashi felt as though all the air left his lungs when he saw you.

He told you to wear a bright colour but he didn’t know the yellow dress and your dark skin-combo would make him feel like crying

After seeing you in greys and blacks and dull nudes his whole life and still looking pretty, he couldn’t handle himself when you wore a colour that accurately communicated how he sees you: like his literal light

“Good God,” Akaashi gulped.

Keiji is a well-known quiet guy, but even his loudest friend Bokuto wouldn’t be able to beat how loud his emotions screamed at him from inside when he looked at you. You literally had him by the heartstrings, looking like that.

He realized that he is embarassed to admit all that he would give to see you in a yellow bra and panty set.

You smiled up and him and did a spin, so he could see the full picture of the dress. His eyes missed the dress because he couldn’t stop looking at your face.

“I saw it on a mannequin at the mall the other day and never thought my skin would go with it... but after what you said I went back to get it and—“

“Y/N. You— you look—-that colour—-your skin—-You—I—Good....God,” he repeated himself. Akaashi was only slightly disappointed that he couldn’t express to you how much your skin tone WAS MADE for this colour. You were magical.... a queen.

He didn’t want to go to his brothers wedding anymore. He wanted to stand there and stare at the way the sunlight hit your complexion and glistened. He wanted to stand there and have you spin around for him again. He wanted to have your mf-ing babies.

“You’re doing that thing again, Kashi. The thing you did in the car? Don’t we have to go pick up Bokuto, now? Let’s go!”

You gave him a ‘chop chop’ snap and climbed in the car.

When you got in you were so thankful for your dark skin because your blush wasn’t showing. The way your best friend has been looking at you was too passionate, too deep, too full of emotional and physical desire. It made you want to tell him your feelings.

outside, Keiji had still been in a trance, letting out one more “Good.....God,” before he had to literally slapped himself and hopped in the car.

Think of Bokuto Think of Bokuto Think of Bokuto, he chanted internally before pulling out of your driveway.

Speaking of the devil......

“AKAAAASHI!” Yelled his grey-headed best friend as he pulled open the back door of his car. “And, who’s that—wait—Y/N?!”

You gave your best friend’s best friend a weak smile. You were so embarassed by the way he was looking at you.

Bokuto slammed the door behind him and applauded loudly. “Now, I’ve always been jealous whenever you take my Akaashi away from me because he wants to spend time with you, but now I understand why. You’re a 10 when you aren’t hiding behind those freaking vampire colours!!!”

“Bokuto.” Akaashi reprimanded his annoying friend and Bokuto pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key.

Meanwhile, you were regretting wearing this colour. It drew the attention that you always tried hard to avoid.

Akaashi noticed your internal regret, even while driving....so he reached over to place a hand on your thigh.

“Y/N, you said you trust me right?”

You looked at him for a second before nodding.

Keiji elevated at the admission. “Then, trust me when I say you look beautiful. I’m so happy you wore that dress today.”

You smiled, that smile only reserved for him again, and he just about proposed on the spot.

“AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!! Hey, hey, hey! Maybe you two love birds should be the ones getting marr—“

Akaashi deadpanned in the rear view mirror, catching Bokuto’s eye immediately. “Bokuto.”

Frightened, Bokuto muttered a quick “Shutting up.” Before actually doing so.

Don’t get him wrong. Akaashi was happy to have his best guy friend at the wedding.

Very happy.

Because Boku was like an alarm...warning him whenever he was acting like a freak around the the girl he has a crush on

Bokuto would just nudge him and smirk whenever Akaashi was drawing attention to himself because he was looking at you in the crowd when his attention should be on his brother and his fiancé saying their vows.

When Akaashi saw you and your mom run over to dip your feet in the water on the beach, then run away because a cold wave hit up to your shins, your smile radiant and your yellow dress flying in the wind, Bokuto nudged him again because he was staring when he had to take pictures with the groom

At night, when Keiji was throwing back shots way more than Bokuto knew his best friend to even like, simply because one of his brothers groomsmen had been talking to you for the better part of the hour and he didn’t fucking like it, Bokuto not only nudged Keiji but he told the bartender to cut him off.

“Go talk to Y/N.” Bokuto grabbed the drink out of Keiji’s hand and drank it.

Akaashi shook his head. “No. S-she’s out of my league.”

Bokuto scoffed. “You do know that you’re literally the best looking person I’ve ever seen in my life right? Like seriously. You look like your face was made in a fucking lab. By chicks. By hot chicks, like Y/N, working together to come up with concoctions to Science their way to make the best looking dude—“

Keiji rolled his eyes. “Is there a point coming at the end of this?”

“Yeah. There is, impatient pants. I was going to say that I wonder if the hot chicks who made you wore bikinis the whole time while they leaned over eachother fighting over the pencil for the blueprint sketches—“

“A point about Y/N, Bokuto! Y/N. The only girl I care about. The only girl I want to talk about. Come back down to this earth. Where. Is. The. Point?”

“Oh. Yeah. Geez, take a chill pill will ya?”

“Bokuto......” He warned. Already on edge because you were now slow dancing with that guy at the wedding instead of being the wallflower you usually were. He liked it better when he was the only one who noticed you. In a way.... But then he remembered how colourful you looked when you got complimented all day and he immediately retracted the thought. Akaashi wanted nothing more than for you to reach your fullest potential, and wearing colours that expressed your beauty would be step one. He yearned to be the one who could bring you up the rest of the steps, because he’d tell you everyday how damn amazing you are. He just wished you weren’t so damn alluring to the majority of men.

Bokuto held his hands up in surrender. “Damn! Okay. Look, my point is...that it doesn’t matter how good looking you are or Y/N is, because everyone knows that even if you two were fugly you’d still have the love story of the generation because your connection is on a whole other level.”’

“What?” Keiji jeered. He didn’t like the idea of your name and ‘anything but beautiful’ being in the same sentence.

“Man, chill. Look, I won’t say anything else. I’m just going to grab Y/N from Mr. I-Didn’t-Make-It-To-The-NFL-But-I-Can-Still-Pull-A-Trophy-Wife over there. When she gets here, try not to ‘Good God’ her to death, hm? She’s gorgeous, yes, but like I said—so are you. Inside and out.”

Without listening to his denial like always, Bokuto somehow slipped in to the dance you were currently having and began dancing with Y/N

As a dancer, you loved moments when you could do it, and Akaashi was falling harder for you every time you spun around elegantly

Bokuto made some bs excuse about not being able to dance for long and waved his best friend over

Akaashi’s legs moved automatically because he has been wanting to be near you the entire night.

Like a fairytale ball sequence, Bokuto handed you off and you were now met with the waiting and hesitant arms of your best friend

Keiji asked if it was alright to touch your waist and you smiled and said yes

As you two danced, you going at the pace you knew Akaashi would be best at.....you took a second to really feel the energy

Your bodies were like magnets and you two were feeling the pull like never before

you leaned forward to rest your head against your best friends chest as you settled into a simple back and forth sway

As he held your waist closer and rubbed his thumbs soothingly in the crevice of your back dimples......

You understood that what you were now feeling was love

What you’ve been feeling for months, what you felt when you spoke to him of trust, when you watched him drive, when he put an extra blanket on you when you two watched movies, when he looked at you in your yellow dress, when you rested your head on his chest.....your mind, body and soul were all telling you one thing. They were louder than ever now. Shouting at you to tell Akaashi those 3 magic words so you two could see where the next level of your relationship would take you. It wouldn’t take much to say—

“I love you.”

Flabbergasted with yourself, you jumped back from his chest so you were looking at him. You couldn’t believe you had the audacity to say it!!!!!

Your mind now jumbled, you thought of an excuse to blame it on the 0% alcohol you had had before you realized..........that you don’t have a deep voice............nor have you opened your mouth since you rested your head on your best friend’s chest.......

“Wh-what?” You asked breathlessly.

Akaashi was looking down at you, confident that he had made you wear a dress that brought out your beauty so fiercely that it ultimately forced him to confess.

“I love you, Y/N. And if we’re always talking about trust......Then trust me when I tell you that I think I always have.”

----------------

I find I enjoy writing both nsfw and fluff equally and you guys request it basically half and half, so the next post will be much more smutty cause you know--balance. 

[jaefluenza]

Mellifluous | Mark x reader

genre: fluff/slice of life

pairing: Classmate!Mark x you

other characters: Jaemin, Renjun, Jeno, Chenle, Jaehyun, Lami (ex SMrookie)

summary: you tried to forget music after you failed your first audition with a misunderstanding. But Mark Lee, your new classmate, helps you finds your desire to love music again.

You walked into the empty classroom, feeling glad that you’re early. You put your bag onto the desk and lay your head on it. The breeze swaying some of your hair put you to a short nap. Minutes later, you’re being awakened by the noisy loud boys. You look up and glance at the clock. It’s 10 minutes away before the class starts, so you decide to get a drink from the vending machine.

You walk through the hallway, avoiding another student’s glance as you walk towards the vending machine. Well, one thing you hate about the vending machine is it was placed besides the music room, the only room you hate in the school. You ignored the piano sounds from inside, inserting the coin in. Once you get your drink, you flinched at one certain face in front of you.

“You scared me, Jaemin! Don’t do that again, please.”

Jaemin snorts, “Why are you in front of the music room?” His eyes lit up. “Are you going to be interested again in music-” You hurriedly close Jaemin’s fussy mouth as you glare at him.

“Stop it, Jaemin. I’m not doing whatever is in your mind now. Let’s just get back to class, it’s almost starting.”

You literally dragged Jaemin back to class. “You know what, y/n. There’s always another chance you know.”

You ignored him as you let go of his hand, leaving him to go to your own desk.

You stare at the window as you reminisce your bitter past with music.

You worked part time in order to obtain your own pocket money without bothering your parents. You got plenty of money from it, and you used them to apply for vocal and music courses. You were in love with music. You discovered your nice voice since junior year, when your friends forced you to sing at a birthday party. Your friends applauded and told you to join the music club at school. So, you did. And to work up your skills, you attended vocal and music courses. You also bought a guitar with your own money. Everything went great and you fell in love with music everyday.

“Why don’t you participate in an audition?” Renjun asked you who’s playing a piano across him. You stopped your finger play.

“Hm, I don’t know. My vocal skill is still average and I don’t have the confidence to compete with hundreds or maybe thousands of talented people.”

Lami chimes in, “You call that diamond voice average? Then I must be a dying goat then.”

You chuckled, “No, you’re just exaggerating that.”

“Believe me, y/n, you have a beautiful talented voice. And your music skills are superb. You deserve a chance to do an audition.”

You couldn’t believe that Renjun would say that about you. He has been a playful savage in the club, but now you could feel his sincerity.

“Yeah, I totally agree. I heard MBK is arranging an audition in our school next month. You should totally join it.”

You looked at Lami, Renjun, Chenle, and the others.

“Maybe I should do it.”

So you spent your times practicing for the upcoming audition. You were so sure that you’ll rock the audition. A day before the audition, you hurried your way to your workplace, forgetting your umbrella. You’ve watched the weather forecast and they said it’s gonna rain. You didn’t care though, all you wished was to finish your work and then prepare yourself for tomorrow.

And they were right. 10 minutes before your shift completed, heavy rain started to pour down and it was quite stormy. You sighed, regretting how you didn’t give a fuck about leaving your umbrella at class. So your day ended with you walking home literally drenched from the heavy rain.

The next day, Renjun and Jaemin were waiting for you to in front of the hallroom, where the audition was held. “Where do you think she is? She should be taking her number by now!” Jaemin panicked.

“Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not stupid, Jaemin. I am clearly as worried as you right now- there she is! Y/n!” Renjun spotted you weakly walking to the hallway.

Your pale face changed their excitement into worries. “Are you alright? Why are you so pale??”

“I forgot my umbrella yesterday so I walked home like a wet cat.” You said before you sneezed. “Geez, I don’t think I’m gonna make it. I’ll just give up and join another one someday.”

“No. An open audition like this rarely goes to our school, so you still have to take it.” Renjun convinced you.

Jaemin nodded, “Yeah, besides, you have practiced for a month long. You can do it.”

You sigh, “What if my voice cracks? To tell them I am sick doesn’t make any sense though.”

Jaemin shakes his head, “No, y/n. You can do it. Now, take your number and sit down in the applicant section.” He put his hand on your shoulder, assuring you that everything will be alright.

So you ended up sitting as an applicant. You keep hearing students around you practicing, while you only busy clearing your throat and drinking water to make sure your hoarse voice won’t crack. Jaemin, Renjun and some of your clubmates sit on the audience section, anticipating your turn.

You watched proudly as Lami finished her audition with positive reactions from the judges. You give her hearts and smiles as she smiled excitedly at you.

After an hour, you heard your number being called. You nervously walked towards the front, the stage, reminding yourself that this is an open audition and a lot of students are watching you right now. You bow as you hold the mic in your hand, smiling at the judges. You introduced yourself before they ask you to sing.

You start off with a nice tone, until you feel your voice straining a little bit at the refrain. You keep your tone stable until you have to reach the highnote in the end.

That’s where your voice cracks poorly, and you heard people cringing. You stopped singing, shocked at how your efforts for the last month becoming useless because of a freaking cold. You bowed as an apology and you looked down, waiting for what the judges will say.

“Woah, I’m sorry, student y/n, I don’t understand why you joined this open audition just to embarrass yourself.”

“I’m sorry, but you sounded like a strangled cat.”

“I don’t think we can accept you, maybe you have to practice for a few more years.”

You feel disappointed in yourself, but in the tiny deepest corner in your heart, you still wanna fight for it.

“I’m sorry, but I am having a cold. Can I have a second chance? I’ll do better-”

“Using cold as an excuse? This is intolerable. We are sorry but you don’t have another chance. Please leave. Next, number 124!”

You leave the stage while holding your tears. At the moment, you feel like the entire world crumbles upon you, you feel embarrassed and disappointed in yourself. How could you believe you can succeed an audition while having a cold? Are you Taeyeon or IU? Negative thoughts circles around your head, until someone yells your name across the hallway.

“Y/n, wait! I-” Renjun couldn’t finish his words as you snapped at him.

“I told you I couldn’t make it, Renjun! Why did you both push me into embarrassment like this? I told you my singing skills are average and now I discovered that I sing like a strangled cat.”

Jaemin feels guilty as he looked at your tears, wanting to erase them off your cheeks.

“No, y/n, I don’t mean that. Please-”

You cut him off, “Enough. I told you I’ll join another audition but no, I guess I won’t attend one anymore. And please leave me alone for awhile.”

That’s how you leave the music club, your vocal and music courses, and also your beloved guitar in your room. You packed the guitar in it’s bag and put it in the stockroom.

The teacher’s entrance cut off your flashbacks and you straighten your position. The teacher is not alone, he brings someone with him too, that you assume is a new student. The girls in the room squeals, well, it’s a boy and he’s quite charming, you thought.

“Good morning, everyone. Let me introduce a new student that will joining us in this class. He is a transfer student from Hanlim Art School. So, would you introduce yourself?” The teacher turns at the black-haired boy as he nod politely.

“Ah, yes. Hello everyone. I am Lee Minhyung but everyone calls me Mark. Mark Lee. I grew up in Canada, but I moved back to Korea to be a trainee in SM entertainment. Yeah, that’s all from me.”

You heard everyone wowed at him. Well, you found out why he looks so charming, he’s a trainee from a big and popular company.

“Okay, thank you Mark. Please have a sit there, in front of y/n. Y/n, please raise your hand.”

You lazily raise your hand and he makes an eye contact with you. You put down your hand and awkwardly look away. You feel his steps coming towards you. You look up to meet his smile back, as he take his seat in front of you. You return his smile with a small grin.

At recess, you planned to sit alone while enjoying your lunch, but that seems to wouldn’t happen because the minute you put your tray on one of the empty tables, Na Jaemin and Lee Jeno also put their trays on the same table as you. You looked at them both.

“I planned to have lunch by myself today, though.”

“That’s too much.” Jaemin pouted.

“Yeah, let us eat with you, okay.”

Jeno gives you his signature eyesmile as he put his hand on your shoulder. You shrugged and proceed to eat your lunch.

“You know, that new student, he was in Hanlim. Y/n’s dream school!” Jaemin exclaimed excitedly. You shake your head slowly, “It was my dream school, but not anymore.”

Jeno looked up from his meal, “But you used to like that school a lot. Well, why not liking it anymore?”

“I think you both knew well what was the reason.” You scoff.

“Well, Y/n. We care a lot for you as your friends, I just want to say, you can’t give up your dream like that-”

“Ah.. our dreams can change as time passes by, yeah, uhm.” Jaemin chimes in as you thank him with your eyes.

Before Jeno gets to reply, another tray was put gently on the table. The three of you looked up. It’s the new student, Mark Lee.

“Hey guys, can I sit here?” He asked with an awkward smile.

“Well, there’s no reason why you can’t sit with us.”

Jeno looked at you with an odd look. “What the hell? You weren’t like that to us awhile ago.”

Jaemin snorts, “I know right. Yeah, sit here Mark. I am Jaemin and this is Jeno.” Mark nods as he sit down next to you.

“I didn’t tell you to sit beside her though..” Jaemin scoffs.

After some minutes of awkward silence, Jeno decided to open up a conversation.

“Hey, Mark. You transferred from Hanlim. Why?” Jeno asked.

“Well we recently move to our new dorm so this school is the nearest one so yeah. This school seems pretty nice, though I have yet to tour around, can someone tour me around?”

“Yeah, sure. Y/n can tour you around.” Jaemin said calmly.

“What? W-why me?” You look up in panic. “You don’t like it?” Mark frowns.

You feel another panic, “N-no. It’s not like that. I mean... urgh okay. I’ll tour you around after lunch.” You agreed. “I’ll go first.” You stand up and bring your tray.

Mark smiles as he finished up his lunch, somehow feeling excited about touring the school around with you.

“Yo, a little advice, she might seems to act cold around people, but you only need to approach her gently, don’t bring her pressure. She’s actually very sweet and charming, you just have to know her well.” Jaemin explains to Mark.

“Thank you, guys. Well, she’s indeed charming though.”

So you ended up with Mark, walking around the halls side to side. And there you are, walking towards the room you never walk into anymore.

“This is the last room I’ll show you. The music room. The music club members practice and hang out here everyday. If you want to join this club, you can reach Na Jaemin from our class or Huang Renjun from 3-1.” You explained boringly to Mark.

“I’ll definitely join this club. Thank you for the tour, y/n. Anyway, what club do you join?”

“Uhm, I was- well, I’m joining the broadcast club.” You replied. “Let’s go back to class, shall we?”

You befriended Mark. He’s a gentle boy and he takes care of you a lot. He also got so close with the other guys from the music club. You never hang out with them since the audition accident but with Mark, he easily make you go out with them whether it’s going to the theme park or simply going to a cafe. He makes you feel comfortable without being pressured.

Today, you decided to invite Mark to your house. He said he missed home cooked meals so you asked your mom to cook for him. He visited your house often so your mom knows him, and he adores him. She loves to cook for him as he eats so well.

“Well, you’re lucky my brother is home. He just got discharged from military last week. You can play fortnite with him when I’m working on some work.”

“Really? Woah, why do I feel so nervous to meet your brother?” Mark touched his chest, signaling how his heart is beating so fast.

You laugh, “Are you in love with my brother or something? Why are you so nervous to meet him, you silly..”

“Haha, I don’t even know why.” Mark blushes. The red shades on his cheeks are so cute that you proceeded to squish them.

“Ouch! That hurts! What are you doing?” Mark asks shyly.

“You’re so cute, Mark. I can’t resist it.”

Your mom cooked a lot of delicious foods you can feel your stomach about to explode. After dinner, your brother asked Mark to play fortnite with him and Mark gladly answered yes. So you cleaned yourself and spend your time working on the broadcast material you need to finish until thursday.

Meanwhile, downstairs..

“So, have you heard?” Jaehyun looked at Mark.

“About what?”

“Y/n’s last audition. The reason why she quit music.”

Mark nodded, “Yeah, I’ve heard. The guys told me, but I’ve never brought it up in front of her. I know it’s a sensitive topic to talk about so I managed to never ask her about it.”

“You did great. But, as her brother who just got discharged, I wish you could push her into music again. She was really passionate about music and singing. She used to send me a lot of recording of her singing, or just her playing the piano, and I loved them. I know deep down she still has the desire to do music again, to sing again, but I just can’t figure how to help her yet.”

Mark frowned as he listens. “I just want to make her feel comfortable around me. I don’t know if I help her with music, she will avoid me like she tends to avoid others.”

“Man, you don’t know how much she talks about you. Don’t tell her you hear it from me, she will get mad. But I think she’s really comfortable with your presence. You should try.”

Mark’s eyes blink with embarrassment. He somehow feels nervous after hearing that you talk about him often. So, he decided to give it a try.

You finished your writing before you heard a knock on your door. It must be Mark.

“Yeah, come in.”

A second after, he entered the room with a bowl of apples in his hands.

“Your mom told me to bring it to you. Did you finish your work?” He asks gently as he put the bowl on your table.

“I just did.”

Mark nodded. He then sighed as he sit down on your fluffy carpet.

You joined him with the apples. “What’s wrong, Mark?”

He looks into your eyes, “There is something I want to bring up to you, but I’m not sure if you’ll be comfortable enough to talk about it.”

You know where this is leading to, but you shrug as you look away.

“Just spill. I know you’re gonna be curious as well, and because we’re close enough, you deserve to know.” You replied softly with a smile.

“Well, y/n. I spent half of my teenage life as a trainee. I came here as a foreigner, but luckily I was a quick learner, so I worked really hard to become the way I am now. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about failure. I failed twice on my piano lesson. I used to hate myself because everyone is good at piano, why couldn’t I? So I worked really really hard to learn the damn instrument and I made it.” He paused to look at you. You fell into a deep silence.

“The thing is, I heard about what happened to you. The guys told me, but I really want to know your side of story. I wanna hear it from you, I want to know more of you, y/n. How did you feel.. that day?”

Hearing the sincerity from his words make you broke into tears. He flinched in panic, and then holding you closer to him as he soothes you with words.

“Oh, I’m sorry y/n. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No. I-i.. I just feel so.. amused that you asked about how did I feel about it. No one has been listening to me. No one wanted to know how did I feel to be humiliated in front of so many people. To be told that you cannot sing, and you don’t have any talent. Well, it could be true but.. somehow I felt like what I worked hard for was useless. I felt useless.”

Mark nods as he continue to listens.

“I avoided everything about music, because I feel like I don’t deserve to do it. Getting cursed on stage somehow had me hypnotized that I shouldn’t do it anymore. I don’t want to go on another audition, so I don’t need to do anything involved with music anymore.”

“You don’t have to go on an audition to be involved with music, y/n. You can do it for yourself. If you want to play music, do it. You don’t have to do it for others to see. But I do believe that you have the talent for others to see. You have your own charm with music, y/n.”

“How are you so sure about it? You have never heard me sing.”

“Oh, do you think I would ignore every humming sounds behind me? Even they sound beautiful. How I wish I could hear you sing.”

“Well, your wish will be granted. I will.. try to sing again, unless you’re gonna be the one watching.”

“Good deal.”

So, the next day, you and Mark sneak into the music room. It was the day when Mark received a message from the music club groupchat that there were no meeting that day. Everyone’s busy preparing for the upcoming final exams. So after waving goodbye to Jaemin and Jeno, you both made an “eating-bingsoo” excuse to go to the music room.

While Mark open the door, you hesitate to step in. You stare around the room. Somehow you miss practicing here, playing around with the guys, harmonizing with Lami and Koeun, and playing tag with Renjun and Chenle. You sigh, looking back at Mark who waited for you to step in.

You enter the room without pressure, remembering Mark’s words to just relax as if you only come to play. You walk past Mark towards the grand piano across the room, the one you used to practice with. “It’s been so long since I touch this piano.”

“I bet you’re still great at it.” Mark reassures you.

You looked at Mark before finally sit down to play. “I-i..”

Mark nods, “Go on, I’m listening.”

You play the intro of your favorite song, “Baby Baby” by 4MEN.

“I don't know the reason why I changed..

I've been thinking for a long time

After you and I met

It seems like I changed

Quite a lot

Can you hear this song?”

Mark stares at the way you sing. He’s very mesmerized by the way your fingers dancing on the piano. He’s also very stunned by your voice.

“Oh, thank you so much.. oh baby..

You are so pretty

I can't take my eyes off of you

My eyes only see you

I only want to keep looking at you..”

You closed your eyes and sigh, you finally sing again. You glance at Mark with teary eyes. He clapped proudly before walking to give you a hug. You gladly wrap your arms around his body, letting out a satisfied sigh while he pat your head.

“That was beautiful.” Mark whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you Mark. Thanks for helping me find my hope.”

Months after finding your passion in music with the help of Mark, you grow to be a lot happier. You open yourself to your friends, and they gladly welcome your old self back. They decided to respect your choice no matter what happens, as long as you’re happy. Of course you didn’t join the music club back, you told everyone that you’re gonna enjoy music to yourself, to have fun.

While Mark is nearing his debut, you sometimes help him relieve his stress by helping him with his music. You help him write his rap or sometimes you make guitar samples for him.

And now, here you are on the prom day, wearing a beautiful white short dress, waiting for your date in front of the hallroom. After greeting some of your friends with their date, you finally see him coming.

Mark walks towards you with a bucket of flowers in his hands, smiling charmingly. “Hey, you look beautiful tonight. I- I mean, you always look beautiful everyday, but tonight you look.. uhm, different. Urgh, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Mark rumbles.

You receive the bucket and smell it, “Thank you Mark, you look handsome too, you know.” You smiled.

Mark reaches for your hand, and offers you to go with him. “Shall we?”

You nod and take his hand in yours.

“Sooooo! Tonight is a special day! And we also have our dinner and now our stomach is really full of good food! But the special thing is not here yet! So, now we will proceed to see a performance from our dear friend from the music club, he will be performing a song with a secret featuring. Mark Lee, y’all!!!” Donghyuck screamed into the mic as he nods at Mark who’s ready with his mic.

Meanwhile, you stand behind Mark, hands shaking from nervousness, as you grip your mic tightly. Mark notices your nervousness. He put both of his hands on your shoulder as he looks directly into your eyes. “Are you alright?”

“M-mark, I don’t think I can do it.”

“Listen, y/n. Just pretend that the kids aren’t there. Just see it as if we’re only having fun, serenading each other. You know we love to sing together, right? It’s gonna be okay, I’m here with you.”

You look into Mark’s eyes to search for any sincerity and reassurance from his eyes, and that’s it. You find them. You quickly gain your confidence as you nod frequently.

He holds his guitar in his left hand and uses the other one to hold your hand, leading you to the stage. Everyone screamed in surprise, not believing that you are gonna sing at the stage again.

Renjun sends a look to Jaemin and Jeno, “Did they told you about this???”

Jaemin shakes his head, “No! I’m literally shook right now!”

You ignored all the hollers and looked at Mark with a smile, before closing your eyes to focus.

Mark started his intro, focusing in his fingers as he plays delicately. He started his first verse,

“She is the sweetest thing that I know..

You should see the way she holds me when the lights go low

Shakes my soul like a pot hole, every time

Took my heart upon a one way trip

Guess she went wandering off with it

Unlike most women I know

This one will bring it back whole.

Daisies, daisies perched upon your forehead

Oh my baby, lately I know..”

He smiled at you, reassuring you for the last time that it’s gonna be alright.

You look at him dearly as you start to sing,

“That every night I'll kiss you you'll say in my ear

Oh we're in love aren't we?

Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs baby

I feel safe when you're holding me near

Love the way that you conquer your fear

You know hearts don't break around here..”

That’s when Mark keeping the eyecontact with you, as you both start singing the last part together, harmonizing beautifully.

“yeah yeah yeah,

yeah yeah yeah yeah..

Yeah yeah yeah yeah.”

Mark put down his guitar as the audience clapping and screaming for both of you.

He takes your hand as you both proceed to bow for the audience. You looked at your friends cheering loudly for both of you, and you waved at them before going back with Mark to the backstage.

You scream into Mark’s shoulder as he laughs with you. “I did it! We did it, Mark! We both did so well!”

He caresses your shoulder gently, “I know right. You did so well, y/n. I’m so proud of you!”

You let go, and smile at him dearly. “I could never thank you enough Mark.”

“You can, right now.”

“What? How?”

“By being my girlfriend. Will you be one?” Mark asks, it becomes his turn to be nervous.

You blink, “I- of course.. Mark, I.. will.”

He shows you his big happy grin as he pulls you into a big hug.

Indeed, that night is a night for you both to remember.

[dargeereads]

COCKY HERO CLUB

Release Date: May 17, 2020

Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward are excited to bring you the Cocky Hero Club: original works from various authors inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling Cocky Bastard series.

COCKY DUKE

BY ANNABELLE ANDERS

Mrs. Ambrosia Bloomington, now a widow, is ready to start a new life amongst Mayfair elites without the overarching reach of her late husband, Mr. Harrison Bloomington.  With her trunks loaded safely onto her own private carriage, she’s ready to face the world as an independent woman in Regency London.

She does not, however, bargain for cocksure Frenchman, Mr. Charles Cochran Bateman coming along and turning her very ordinary journey into the adventure of a lifetime.

She does not bargain for his laughter, his enthusiasm, nor his Joie de vie.

And blast and fiddlesticks, she certainly is not expecting to experience the sparks that charge the air between them.

And, it seems, apparently, neither is he…

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MOTHER CLUCKER

BY CAT JOHNSON

They say opposites attract, but in this case, they might just combust . . .

HEATHER

Hermosa Beach seems to be the place for throwing together unlikely opposites.

My rooster Rowdy and his new crush, Pixy the goat.

Me and the obnoxiously cocky cowboy from Texas . . .

But unlike Rowdy and Pixy, there’s no way I’m going to fall for David Strickland.

Nope. Not gonna happen. I could never be with a man so completely opposed to everything I believe . . . no matter how hot he is.

DAVID

There couldn’t be two people more different than the beautiful little tree hugger and rooster rescuer Heather and me.

We can’t agree on anything, except that we disagree on everything—some times more heatedly than other times. And believe me, things are starting to heat up between us, in more ways than one.

She's the last thing I expected to find at an animal shelter in California. But now I found her, I have no intention of letting her go.

I just have to get her on board with that plan.

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SECRET KEEPER BY CHRISTOPHER HARLAN

She was the fruit of a forbidden tree, but nothing in this world was going to stop me from tasting her.

My name is Dylan Murphy, and I work for the rich and powerful of an exclusive Manhattan building. Graham Morgan was my first boss, but soon after I was working with some of the most famous entrepreneurs, business moguls, and movie stars in the city. They trusted me because I always followed the cardinal rules:

Never betray secrets. And never, under any circumstance, get personally involved.

I’d never dreamed of violating my professional mantra.

Not until she walked past me.

The look we exchanged that night set my body on fire, and I knew right then and there that no matter the consequences, she was going to be mine. But she was one of them—off limits and out of my league, but she was the kind of woman who I was willing to risk everything for.

I keep other people’s secrets for a living, but the biggest secret of all might be my own.

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COCKY CAPTAIN

BY ELLIE MASTERS

Ex-fighter pilot, Logan Reid, is exactly the kind of man I despise. He’s a cocky jet jock, a former Navy Blue Angel, and full of all the arrogance that comes with being the best of the best.

I’m an ex-Zoomie, an Air Force tanker pilot. The rivalry between our sister services is nothing compared to that between fighter jocks and tanker pilots. We’re bitter rivals and I’m low-man (woman) on the totem pole

The last thing I need is to spend six hours at thirty-five thousand feet locked in a cockpit with the cocky captain. But I have no choice. I’m his co-pilot, and we’re taking the CEO of Montague Enterprises, and his family, on a mini-vacation to the Grand Caymans.

We have three days on the ground before we fly back.

Three long days in paradise and he wants to spend them all with me.

I have a thing for fighter pilots.

It isn’t animosity, exactly, but rather a deep-seated dislike. They get all the glory while the rest of us sit at the butt end of their jokes and wither beneath their ridicule.

I hate fighter pilots. There, I said it. I hate the arrogant pricks with a passion.

But after one look into those magnetic eyes, and the devastating wink which follows, I’m thinking of throwing caution to the wind. What harm can come from some innocent flirting? Besides, it’s not as if my job is at risk.

I’m not prepared for the air to sizzle when he’s close.

I’m not ready for our explosive chemistry when he touches my skin.

I’m not equipped for the fallout when our three days come to an end.

And I never expected to fall in love.

But all good things come to an end.

I wasn’t prepared when I walked away.

And I wasn’t ready for what came next.

He’s arrogant.

He’s cocky.

He’s determined to get what he wants.

And he’s refuses  to let this end.

He’s fighting for a forever…with me.

But, I’m not ready for our beginning.

He’s arrogant enough to prove me wrong.

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SEXY SUIT

BY J.H. CROIX

When I met Ryan, I might’ve been trying to break into his basement.

It was for a good cause. I swear. Also, my dog broke in first.

Ryan Blake is jaw-dropping handsome, wealthy & cocky. Not quite my type. By some miracle, he doesn’t call the police on me when he catches me trying to rescue my dog. He even fetches a doctor for me. Don’t ask why.

I don’t figure I’ll see him again. Then, I do. Then, he kisses me. Once. Twice. Is three times the charm? To be honest, I swooned at the first kiss.

All swooning aside, we are seriously opposites. I wear cowboy boots and skirts. He wears suits and ties. He’s all New York City. I’m a Southern girl looking for a new start. We even talk at different speeds.

The list of things I don’t expect from Ryan is long. I don’t expect him to think twice about me. I don’t expect him to nearly bring me to my knees with a look. I don’t expect him to be so much more than I ever imagined.

I absolutely don’t expect to fall for him. So hard I’m skidding sideways just to catch my balance.

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WICKED BEDMATE BY JENIKA SNOW

Getting fired and humiliated in front of everyone at my newly acquired secretarial job at Morgan Financial Holdings wasn’t how I’d seen my day going.

And then chaos—or maybe luck—ensured.

I was set up on a blind date, shocked that my former boss was giving me a month’s severance, and had the perfect interview lined up.

Maybe things were looking up for me after all.

And although finding a man should have been on the bottom of my to-to list, I couldn’t get Jason—the uber sexy blind date—out of my head. Sexy and confident—or maybe arrogant—he had me yearning for more with just a smoldering look and a smirk of his lips.

But when a night of drinking leads to getting in bed with him and having the wildest, most intense night of my life, I didn’t know if I should ask to see him again, or do the good old walk of shame.

And it’s when I walk into my interview the next day and come face-to-face with my prospective employer that the reality of my situation sinks in.

Because there, sitting across from me with that devilish smile on his face, that knowing expression of what we’d done the night before, is the one and only Jason, my supposedly one-night stand.

Looked like my humiliation wasn’t over just yet.

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LUCKY BASTARD BY KAYLEE RYAN

Emma

When my best friend Aubrey asked me to tag along to an event with her, I never could have imagined that it would be the day that my life changed forever.

He’s arrogant and demanding and doesn’t take a hint. Landon Barker, the quarterback for the Hermosa Beach Trojans, is a player on and off of the field. He’s got his sights set on me as his next play, but I see right through him. Aubrey says I’m overreacting, that I should give him a chance. What she doesn’t realize is men like Landon don’t fall for the girl next door. That’s not reality. She got her fairytale, although it was a long road. Not all of us are that lucky.

Landon

She’s a friend of our new kicking coach’s wife. When I ask Chance for her number, he tells me I have to find a way to get it myself.

Nothing when it comes to Emma has been easy. She’s the first woman ever to turn me down, and that won’t do. However, as time passes, it’s about more than that. It’s about her smile, her laugh, and just spending time with her. She thinks I’m a player, and she’s right. What she doesn’t know is that I play to win, and her heart is the ultimate trophy.

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COCKSURE ACE BY K WEBSTER

I’m a fighter.

At least that’s what my daddy always told me.

It’s in our blood.

Hard work, hustle, and a little Hennessey is the Reid motto.

He taught me to fight for everything I wanted in life.

Take down those who threaten the dream.

My dream is to marry the perfect man.

That man is my father’s best friend and I won’t stop until I have him.

And at Daddy’s wedding in Costa Rica, I plan to make that dream finally come true.

Then, my life will be smooth sailing.

Until a chance flight with an arrogant pilot throws me off course. 

Literally. 

Camilo’s decisions affect my future, and I can’t allow anything—not even a cocksure, ridiculously hot idiot—to stand in my way.

Problem is, he fights back.

Every battle I’ve won in life, he shoots down and exposes me for the fraud I am.

Trapped in paradise with my devilishly handsome nemesis seems like one of the seven circles of Hell…and, boy, is it getting hot around here. 

He’ll strip me of my armor.

Remind me of my past.

Force me to rethink my future.

And help me live in the moment.

Will he steal my heart too?

One thing’s for sure.

This girl won’t give up without a fight.

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CLUTCH PLAYER BY NIKKI ASH

Harper

I fell in love when I was sixteen. Landon was my entire world and I thought he would be my forever. But I was young and dumb, and with one error in judgement, I destroyed any chance of a future we could’ve had together, along with our hearts.

Twelve years later and I’m going through the motions of life, but not actually living. Which is why I let my friends, Bridget and Simon, set me up on a blind date. Turns out, it’s not so blind after all. Because the man sitting in front of me is the same man who’s held onto my heart all these years.

Landon

They call me a Clutch Player because I’m good under pressure and quick on my feet. I was also quick to fall in love. The first time it was with baseball, the second was with Harper. And for a short time I had them both.

Until I lost Harper and all I had left was baseball.

For years, I focused on my career. I had accepted that baseball was my one true love.

Until I saw her again. I never imagined we’d ever get a second chance, but now that she’s sitting right across from me, I know there’s no way in hell I’m going to let her go again.

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SEXY SCOUNDREL BY RAISA GREYWOOD

Carlina Perez is in way over her head. Unexpectedly jobless and fostering an exotic pet with an insatiable appetite, this pastry chef needs a new gig faster than she can whip up a batch of scones.  But when she’s tapped to serve as the personal chef to a haughty tabloid regular, she only considers the job out of sheer desperation. After all, Giorgio Acardi may be filthy rich and intoxicatingly handsome, but he’s also a first class scoundrel.

Giorgio Acardi has it all:  money, fame, an endless string of beautiful companions, and the respect of his colleagues and rivals. From the outside looking in, his life is perfect. So perfect, in fact, that he’s even got his eye on a new personal chef. She’s talented and gorgeous, and it shouldn’t make a difference whether she hates him or not as long as she does the job. But there’s something about Carlina that Giorgio just can’t resist, and he hasn’t enjoyed success by backing down from a challenge.

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[thefigureinthecorner]

tbs art playlist dump

i want to share my playlists but a) don’t feel like making covers for all of them just yet and b) don’t wanna inundate my blog with playlist posts, but they are relevant to my art cause they help with Drawing Emotions n stuff so i’m still posting them on this blog

i’ll stick the links under the cut so i can keep adding to them, since i make them as i find more songs that fit and clicking a read more conveniently always links back to the original post, so 👌 

also there are some notes bc thought processes are fun

am archives stuff

this playlist is p much just all the music that gets me in the Sad AM Archives Mood for drawing anything in like. the latter half-ish of the episodes. lyrically there isn’t a whole lot of relevance it just gets me in the right headspace for drawing The Emotions (edit: a lot of these songs have become lyrically relevant since i made this post. i’m crying all the time over every song i listen to. goddammit.)

also there is one song (not on this playlist anymore) that i put on loop for drawing specifically Helen and that’s The Mind Electric-- again, more mood relevance than lyrical relevance, though the title is. oddly accurate

honorable mention: black pear tree by the mountain goats and kaki king cause it’s not on spotify but hot damn

joan/owen

it’s just a lot of sad, pine-y love songs. honestly it’s mostly from owen’s perspective cause there’s been a lot of that lately, and as far as i can tell owen’s where most of the love was coming from in this relationship anyway

share your address- ben platt: frankly, almost all of ben platt’s music gives me strong owen vibes, with a few exceptions. this one’s just owen being super in love. that’s the whole thing.

flaws- bastille: there’s a lot about this song that’s perfect for these two but two sections in particular: “When all of your flaws and all of my flaws/Are laid out one by one/The wonderful part of the mess that we made/We pick ourselves undone” and “All of your flaws and all of my flaws/When they have been exhumed/We'll see that we need them to be who we are/Without them we'd be doomed”

the first bit because of everything with Mark, and the second bit because of the last few episodes and the whole “maybe making the mistakes we have makes us uniquely suited to do better in the future” thing

quiet light- the national: owen, post-breakup, probably. the whole thing is good, but “Between you and me/I still fall apart at the thought of your voice” is the part that convinced me to put it here.

title and registration- death cab for cutie: i had this one stuck in my head while drawing owen at one point i think, and then it kinda just. hit me how well it worked. “There's no blame for how our love did slowly fade/And now that it's gone, it's like it wasn't there at all/And here I rest where disappointment and regret collide/Lying awake at night”

better- ben platt: yeah it’s ben platt again and i can’t even point to specific lyrics it’s just the whole song. this one’s on owen’s main playlist too but it had to be here

you can do better than me- death cab for cutie: not sure about the first verse, but the rest of the song?? fuck

tompkins square park- mumford and sons: also a song that’s on owen’s main playlist, but it’s on this playlist because after am archives 15 it’s destroying me.

i don’t wanna love somebody else- a great big world: gonna let the lyrics speak for themselves: Oh, we left it all unspoken/Oh, we buried it alive/And now it's screaming in my head/Oh, I shouldn't go on hoping/Oh, that you will change your mind/And one day we could start again/Well I don't care if loneliness kills me/I don't wanna love somebody else

like. excuse me.

this whole song just straight up is his conversation with Sam in am archives 13 huh

owen

i know i’ve linked to this one before on my blog (the notes are here if you want them) but i’m sticking it in the masterpost anyway

this one exists cause a) i draw him a lot and b) there wasn’t a playlist for owen, which is a decision i respect, but also the one song we do have for him kind of. doesn’t help me draw him. i feel like it makes it harder for me to draw him? the song suits him, lyrics-wise, and i understand why it’s his song, but also there’s a lot tone-wise that just takes me out of drawing him a bit. idk why. anyway here’s a playlist

mark

i made this one cause the official mark playlist was Happy Mark Songs, which is great and i’m glad he gets happy songs, but also i very rarely draw him happy (sorry mark i swear ily) and i needed a playlist of Sad Mark Songs. side note: i probably could have added like half the radical face discography to this playlist

paint’s peeling- rilo kiley: there’s a lot about this song that fits, but one line specifically that put this song on the playlist: And, oh, I'm not going back to the assholes that made me

i hate u, i love u- gnash (ft. olivia brian): see damien’s notes on this song, i wrote those before i wrote mark’s and it’s on both playlists for the same reasons

hard of hearing- radical face: holy shit

dead ends- radical face: also holy shit

personal giants (alternate reality version)- radical face: stop me if you’ve heard this before, but: holy shit. also this is totally a mark and joan song. maybe mark and sam also. just mark looking up to all the people who have ever loved him in any way

something good can work- two door cinema club: took this one from his official playlist; i love two door cinema club so i felt like i had to

a better son/daughter- rilo kiley: added this one after episode 14 of the am archives cause i re-discovered rilo kiley like right before that episode came out and aaaaaaaaa

older- ben platt: it’s sad in a Mark Way. idk how else to describe it.

mistakes we knew we were making- straylight run: i know i say this a lot but like......... it’s the whole song. look at the lyrics and try to tell me this isn’t a mark song.

stage 4 fear of trying- frank iero: “and i found some scars in places i have never shown to anyone/i don't know why it took so long to get back home/"if you could hear the dreams i've had my dear..."/yeah i know you've heard that line before/but if i had the chance to scream all the things i've underlined”

still feel- half alive: yeah ok so this is a more upbeat one but it needed to be here. again, a lot about this song works, but like. “Trying to recognize myself when I feel I've been replaced” is the line that got it here

ok ok- half alive: the lyrics kinda work, but honestly, it just Felt Like A Mark Song to me.

damien

it’s either this playlist or, just, The Entire Bastille Discography, cause for some reason their music really suits him imo. this one and the owen one are the ones i consider closest to being complete.

bloody shirt- to kill a king: idk where to even start with this song tbh like i think the lyrics are just his entire post-safehouse arc so it’s definitely something i’ve listened to a lot while drawing him

blame- bastille: another post-safehouse one but this one very specifically links back to the Get The Hell Out conversation him and mark have; fall upon your knees, saying, "this is my body and soul here"/fall and begging, pleading, "you've got the power and control"/don't pin it all on me

reaper man- mother mother: this one’s from the Official Playlist™ and it’s here for p much the same reasons it’s on the official one, with the addition of it helps me draw him. it’s also the only one that i think does from that playlist? which isn’t me bad-mouthing the playlist, i feel like the songs definitely suit him, but again: suiting him and helping me draw him are two very different things

gold- imagine dragons: yeah again it’s just the whole damn song

look what you made me do- our last night (cover): i think lauren shippen posted about this being a damien song on either her blog or the bright sessions blog at one point? and shortly after that this cover showed up in my recommended videos so that’s how that happened

birthright- celldweller: i don’t even remember how i thought of this song while i was making the playlist given it’d been literal years since i listened to celldweller but it worked and it’s here

the hearse- matt maeson: the stripped version of this song is on owen’s playlist because it sounded kind of sad/apologetic; this one doesn’t. this one is still kinda sad but it’s angrier. it’s leaning more towards mark/damien territory; i stuck a couple of those songs on this playlist because a) i don’t draw mark/damien much and b) in the rare cases i do, the official playlist works for me

i hate u, i love u- gnash (ft. olivia brian)- another mark/damien one and also another official playlist song cause i heard it the first time and went oh shit so it’s here now

current works in progress

no links, but i have a lot of songs in mind for these ones that i just haven’t put together into playlists yet:

sam

sam/mark

joan

joan and mark

[lokilickedme]

Part 2 of Read By Loki Laufeyson - High Rise

By request

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own in 2016 (no longer available there) 

Rating:  Mature

Archive Warning:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  F/M

Fandom:  Loki - Fandom, High-Rise (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom

Relationship:  Loki/His Book

Character:  Loki (narrator), Robert Laing, Richard Wilder

Additional Tags:  Explicit Language, Loki Has Issues, Spoilers, Loki Does What He Wants, stick to the damn book Loki, lewd passages quoted from the book, references to bestiality and incest (thanks a lot for that, Ballard. You’re a dick)

Series:  Part 2 of Read by Loki Laufeyson

Stats:  Published: 2016-02-21   Words: 1220 (original version)

Part One: Loki Reads Chapter 9 of The Night Manager

  High Rise, Read by Loki Laufeyson 

by lokilickedme 

Summary:  Loki narrates another audiobook.  Apologies to JG Ballard, though not very sincere ones.  In fact I take it back, I’m mad that I ever had to read this.

Notes:  See the end of the work for notes 

  Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog... 

Well shit, lets just not waste any time at all getting to the good stuff, shall we?  When a book has the unmitigated balls to start off with a barbequed canine for the first course, you know you're in for an entertaining evening chock full of questionable culinary choices written in dirty grey prose, which we all know is just a gateway to every sort of perversion familiar to man and a handful or two heretofore known only to the Aesir - and I’ll tell you right now they get up to some kinky shit that’d make you want to tie your ballsack to a goat.  That’s not a metaphor, they’re known for literally tying their ballsacks to goats.  Okay, one of them is known for it.  Okay, I’m known for it.  It was me.  So once one has committed to snacking on the family pets, what comes after the appetizer, sex with a budgie?  What sort of sauce is the fellow using?  Did he sautee the dog or is that fucker deep fried?  Or am I missing a particularly rude innuendo here and he's actually giving the beast a blow job?  If that's the case then this might end up being a worthwhile read after all, and I can’t think of a much more romantic place than the balcony if you’re actually going to commit to pleasuring the wife’s poodle.

 ...Dr. Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.  Now that everything had returned to normal - 

Hold up.  NOW everything's returned to normal?  You're eating a fucking dog, sir, either that or you're fellating it.  In what twisted realm is either of those scenarios considered normal?  We’re not counting Asgard, by the way.  And I'd rather like to know which part of the beast we're talking about here, I mean if it's the drumstick or the tenderloin then I hope you basted it with some herbs and a bit of olive oil before you slapped it on the hibachi.  If you're committing cunnilingus, then I'm presuming you know which part you're dealing with and I'll leave you to it, though the olive oil could serve dual purpose here.  But it does beg the question - is the beast male or female?  Not making a judgement, just getting the visual.

While we're pondering that, I'm going to do us all a colossal favor and skip ahead a bit.  This book really is difficult, and by difficult I mean I've had torture sessions on asteroids that were less annoying.  The story itself is good, heaven knows I enjoy chaos and mayhem and bestiality as much as the next power mad despot, but word for word this tale reads a bit like Lewis Carroll and Roald Dahl having the slowest orgasm in history during a mutual masturbation session while smoking Edgar Allen Poe’s gym shorts.  I actually think I might be having the slowest orgasm in history.

 'Come whenever you want to.'  Laing put his arm around her shoulders, steadying her in case she lost her balance.  In the past he had always felt physically distanced from Alice by her close resemblance to their mother, but for reasons not entirely sexual this resemblance now aroused him.  He wanted to touch her hips, place his hand over her breast.  As if aware of this, she leaned passively against him. 

And there it is my friends.  All good stories need an element of the forbidden, and it looks like sister-diddling wins the perversion jackpot for this evening.  This Laing fellow has the whoo hoos for big sis.  And you people give me shit over my "alleged" deviant relationship with my brother?  Last I recall adopted siblings were free to black hole it all they want, yet here we have a pair working out a tag-up without the benefit of notarized adoption papers.  Since we seem to be condoning this, lets all remember our hypocrisy the next time I'm catching grief for banging Thor, shall we?  And while we're at it, are we all just ignoring the Oedipus train wreck this man just owned up to driving straight into the wall?  'Big sis you look like mummy, here let me drug you and keep you as a sex slave while this whole place goes to hell around us.'  I may or may not be skipping ahead but I'll save you a little time and drudgery - it goes there, people.

 He pulled the drawers on to the floor, heaved the mattresses off the beds, and urinated into the bath. 

Ah, Wilder.  I do love a good silly mustache-twirling villain with self aggrandizing dreams of conquering worlds several floors above his own social status.  Because in the end we all want more than what we’ve got, don’t we?  Thrones, love, respect, use of the penthouse, a herd of stoned females.  At least he didn't piss on the mattress.  Nobody likes a bedwetter, even in hell.

 His burly figure, trousers open to expose his heavy genitalia, glared at him from the mirrors in the bedroom.  He was about to break the glass, but the sight of his penis calmed him, a white club hanging in the darkness. 

Yes my good man, welcome to the fellowship of the knob, our universal handshake is to sit on the sofa with one hand down the front of our pants.  Our penises calm us all.

 He would have liked to dress it in some way, perhaps with a hair-ribbon tied in a floral bow. 

Huh.  Just when I rather think I like this Wilder fellow and his obvious off kilter mental status, he shows us his wiener.  Which was more than enough in itself, thanks so very much for that.  Elegant move there, dipshit - whip it out and slap a bow on it, for times when you really want to class things up.  I for one can't think of anything more entertaining or intellectually fulfilling on a Friday night than tying a pretty ribbon on my schlong and running about with it hanging out of my trousers while I harass and terrorize feral women in derelict apartment buildings.  Sometimes I like to really mix things up by borrowing a pair of mother's clip-on earrings and dangling them from my testicles.  It makes me feel so fucking manly.  You know, for those times when you really want to bang your sister who looks like your mom and you know you stand a better chance of scoring if you really put in some effort with the self decor.  Or you could go all out impressing the masses by tying your ballsack to a goat, but granted, it’s not for everyone.

 This ultimate role had helped him on one occasion, when a marauding band of women led by Mrs Wilder had entered the apartment.  Seeing Laing being abused, and assuming him to be Eleanor's and Alice's prisoner, they had left.  On the other hand, perhaps they understood all too well what was really taking place. 

Yes, what was really taking place was this fellow Laing got himself a couple of kinky babes who were willing to tie him to a chair and beat him with the hind leg of an Alsatian.  I mean, who doesn't get off on that?  I tip my cap to you, Sir.  Never go fifty shades with one woman when you can go full-on Marquis de Sade with two.  And seeing as this merry band of female visigoths was led by that Wilder chap's wife, one can only assume he pilfered her pretty hair bows one time too many and the poor woman felt compelled to start tucking the ginsu’s into her gingham apron and go on raiding parties with her Wednesday night book club group.  Or perhaps it was the 'heavy genitalia' on display out of the front of his pants that drove her over the edge.  I understand leaving one's trousers open while traversing rapidly declining self-contained bastions of reverse civilization is valid grounds for divorce in some states.

 First she would try to kill him, but failing that give him food and her body, breast-feed him back to a state of childishness and even, perhaps feel affection for him.  Then, the moment he was asleep, cut his throat.  The synopsis of the ideal marriage. 

What - all marriages aren't like that? 

I’m going to stop right here so we can all go take a break, order in some Alsation, chase our sisters and next door neighbors around the room with gardening implements and figure out where we hid our morphine stash - which sounds disconcertingly like a typical Saturday evening in Valhalla to me, quite honestly - and summarize the rest of the book, which goes a little something like this:  Madness, mayhem, perversion, murder, violence, death, and why the fuck don’t these people just walk out of the damn building?  Yes I know, it’s an allegory on class warfare and societal prejudices and the shitty tendency humanity has to turn on each other and finally itself when faced with a breakdown in the decency and polite behavior that tentatively holds people at arm’s length until the shit hits the fan and everyone starts coming at each other with golf clubs.  Humans have a disturbing desire to go all Lord of The Flies the moment order breaks down, and this book casts a bloodshot eye on the fucked up results.  I’m telling you though, it’s nothing a good tug’o war match with a goat couldn’t have fixed.

All in all I would say this book is a challenging read, but worth it in the end if for nothing other than the visual of that guy with the bow on his schnitzel.  Best read while mainlining household cleaners directly into your lungs blindfolded and waterboarding yourself while listening to Raul Julia sing the Ave Maria on 45 rpms.  Trust me, you'll understand once you get to the part where the old ladies in cocktail gowns are brawling over use of the elevator. 

 End Notes 

Passages in italics are the property of J.G. Ballard from the novel HIGH RISE, copyright 1975.  I don’t own them, I didn’t write them, and dear god please don’t ask me about the dog.

[dramioneasks]

Ellooooo! So My semester is going like shît and I’m feeling down. 1) Is there any fics (oneshots) that are fluffy. You know the feel good kind. 2) any fics where it’s smut where Draco is possessive and jealous and just loves Hermione? I already checked the tags. Thank you and love be Lisa’s gifs! 👌

Hello! I have quite a list for you to read. They run the gamut from fluff to smut with a Possessive or Jealous Draco.

Just a reminder for next time, please send in two separate asks if you have more than one request. That way we can tag it better.

In, Out byUnseenLibrarian- Explicit, one shot

“Embrace your lover. Hold her close. Feel her warmth,her love, her trust.” - 487 word drabble - My Round One entry for HumpMadness 2012.

Startling Familiar byUnseenLibrarian- T+, one shot

Some wizards and witches think working in the Beast Divisionis a plush job. Hermione would say that they are absolutely right.

Taking Notice byUnseenLibrarian- T+, one shot

Draco is annoyed by Hermione’s hat. He proceeds to tell herjust what he thinks of it.

Once Upon a Dream byUnseenLibrarian- Explicit, one shot

Hermione is exhausted and desperate for a good night’ssleep. A slightly tipsy Draco Malfoy and a long line at the apothecary are onlythe start of her evening’s adventures.

In Private by acroacro- M, one shot

A short story about a Pureblood boy who falls in love with aMuggleborn girl, then throws over family traditions to woo the witch of hisdreams. Sounds familiar, yes? Thow in some oblivious best friends and thepossibility of a fainting goat, and we’re bound for happily ever after, right?

Tessella bydormensia- T+, one shot

Draco stumbles onto an unusual bookshop tucked away in acorner of Diagon Alley.

Tesseract bydormensia- T+, one shot

It should have been a typical day of volunteering at herfavourite bookshop in Diagon Alley.

Sawdust and Silver byStarwhalefamily- Explicit, one shot

“Heads up!”. Before she could jump back a largebeam was falling towards her. As she braced for the impact an arm reached outto stop it before it hit her. “Sorry about that”, cried the nearbyworker who had knocked it over. “Good save Draco”. It took a momentfor Hermione’s brain to catch up. “Wait, what?

Honey and Gold byStarwhalefamily- Explicit, one shot

Set a year after Sawdust and Silver. A sunny autumn day anda honey glaze makes Draco reflect on their relationship.

A Small Present byMusyc- GA, one shot

Hermione gets everything she wants for Christmas.

Ardent Bonds byMusyc- Explicit, one shot

Maybe it was wrong to think about this, maybe it washorrible to even consider, but if Draco Malfoy liked to dominate, she couldn’tstop herself from picturing it. Picturing him.

Artic Bonds by Musyc-Explicit, one shot

He claims wrapping her in snowy ropes is a gift to himselfthis Christmas, but Hermione knows that it’s a gift for her as well.

Coda to Ardent Bonds.

Clever Girl by Musyc-Explicit, one shot

In the vendor’s hall at a kinky convention, Draco talksHermione into talking.

All In Good Time byMusyc- Explicit, one shot

Twenty-five years after the war, Hogwarts librarian HermioneGranger (formerly Weasley) strikes up a relationship with Draco Malfoy, widowerof one year. Taking their time, moving slow, and letting things develop as theymay, the couple finds happiness all around themselves and in each other.

The Thing About Biscuitsby eilonwy- M, one shot

Hermione and Draco discover that the road to the heart canbegin with something as ordinary as biscuits.

Written for the 2013 D/Hr Advent Calendar. My prompt, notsurprisingly, was biscuits.

The Thing AboutBiscuits: Epilogue by eilonwy- GA, one shot

Hermione and Draco discover that the road to the heart canbegin with something as ordinary as biscuits.

This mini-fic is the epilogue of a story I wrote for the2013 D/Hr Advent Calendar fest entitled “The Thing About Biscuits.”

If you’ve arrived here first, let me direct you back to theearlier part of the story:

The Thing About Biscuits

The Hidden Heart byeilonwy- Explicit, one shot

A fairy tale retold…

Which Witch by Mr.Benzedrine89- T+, one shot

Synopsis: School lets out in one month, and Draco stillhasn’t told Hermione he’s fallen for her. When she offers to help him win overthe ‘mystery woman’ he’s pining over, what is a Slytherin to do but say yes?

Prompt: Really, Malfoy? Chocolates? Can it get anymorecliché? If you want to win over that mystery woman of yours, you’re going tohave to do better than that,“ Hermione says, rolling her eyes at him.

Written for Strictly Dramione’s 2017 Spring Fest

Irksome Thoughts byGlalie773- T, one shot

Now, Hermione understood the ‘goody-two-shoes’ role she hadplayed for the better part of almost seven years. Hermione couldn’t deny it anylonger: she thought that the Slytherins were more fun. D/Hr, DracoxHermione.One-shot.

Ice Cream Scoops byGlalie773, one shot

Draco Malfoy never believed in soulmates. Thoughdesperately, secretly, hopelessly… he wanted them to be real. Just so he’dknow that he would have Hermione Granger forever.

Take my Second Chanceby Glalie773, one shot

Severus lost his first chance. He’s giving his second one toDraco. "Essentially, another Potter would win another Lily Evans fromanother Severus Snape.” That. Could. Not. Happen. D/HG, one-shot!Snape-centric

Nobody Has To KnowDraco by Glalie773- T, one shot

… that you can’t produce a Patronus. Unless, of course,you’re instructed to show the class it. “At least I CAN produce one,genius,” Blaise snapped. D/Hr one-shot!

Unmasked by RZZMG- M,one shot

Divorcee-single dad Draco Malfoy goes to the Yule CharityMasquerade and sees the woman of his dreams, but will Hermione Granger stillwant him when he’s finally unmasked? One-shot. Post-Hogwarts EWE.Dramione/Draco x Hermione. Romance/Drama/Hot Shag. Story won 2ndPlace-“BEST DRACO” at the 2010 Winter Round of the HP Fanfic Fan PollAwards-see profile for details. COMPLETE!

The Gift by RZZMG- M,one shot

After imbibing too much on Christmas Eve, Draco Malfoydecides to give himself a gift: Hermione Granger, his war prize slave. Can hergift of love tame the darkness in his heart? One-shot. Dramione/dark Draco xHermione. A/U,Post-Hogwarts,EWE. COMPLETE!

Because You’re Mineby RZZMG- M, one shot

“No emotional entanglements. That had been theagreement at the beginning of this, and if I want to keep seeing her, I have tomake her think I’m living up to that end of the bargain…” Draco Malfoyand Hermione Granger-Weasley meet at a married swinger’s club & becomeinvolved. Post-Hogwarts ( 10 years). Dramione. Romance/Angst/Drama. 2015Dramione-Duet entry. One-shot. COMPLETE!

Hydrotherapy byeilonwy- Explicit, two shot

Draco finds a trip to the showers after playing Quidditch…enlightening.

Sighs and Sacrificeby UnseenLibrarian- Explicit, two shot

Mix a sly Slytherin, a rule-loving Gryffindor, an unspokenmutual attraction, and a wizarding romance novel; suddenly Draco Malfoy andHermione Granger are trapped by the written word. Will they find their ownhappy ending?

The Malaria Visionsby galfoy- M, 3 chapters complete

Hermione has a series of vivid dreams about Draco Malfoyafter taking anti-malarial medication. Can she reconcile the real Draco withthe one she sees when she sleeps?

Opaleye: A Dragon’sLove by RZZMG- M, 3 chapters, complete

A rare Opaleye dragon has set-up a lair in the ruins ofMalfoy Manor. Hermione Granger is dispatched to check it out. Not all is as itseems though. A dragon’s love is forever. Post-Hogwarts.Drama/Romance/Mystery/HOT SHAGGING. Draco x Hermione. Story won 1st Place for“BEST STORY TWIST” at the 2010 Winter Round of the HP Fanfic Fan PollAwards-see profile for details. COMPLETE

Vivaldi by dormensia-GA, 4 chapters complete

In response to DHLane’s challenge: to write a story thatinvolved Draco seeing Hermione from a distance and at the same time everyday.What were his thoughts, his reaction to seeing her? What was the outcome ofthis strange meeting?

The Magician’s Taleby eilonwy- Explicit, 5 chapters, complete

A chance encounter in an exotic locale brings Draco andHermione together after more than a decade to solve a complex and potentiallydangerous mystery.

The Mirror Series:Forbidden Desire by RZZMG- M, 5 chapters, complete

Booking an appointment with the famous sex practitioner,Draco Malfoy, was not the sanest idea Hermione Granger ever had, but maybe nowshe’ll finally get the answers she’s waited 10 years for. Mystery/Romance/Hotshagging-DMxHG. FIC CHALLENGE! COMPLETE!

Bond by Mr.Benzedrin89-Explicit, 5 chapters, complete

What happens at Bond stays at Bond -Hermione Granger isasked out for drinks at Bond, an exclusive club that offers anything fromdancing to so much more. When she, quite literally, falls into Draco Malfoy’slap, will she give in to her more primal urges? Rated M for a reason! Will be 4parts. **WINNER: BEST SMUT 2017 Dramione Awards**

Drinking Buddies byMr. Benzedrine89- Mature, 8 chapters, complete

Hermione’s relationship with Ron is falling apart -and, bychance, she takes up drinking with Draco Malfoy. Lemons and plot to follow.Rated M for smutty lemons and mature themes.

Jilted by cleotheo-M, 10 chapters, complete

Dumped on her wedding day, Hermione decides to head off onhoneymoon to escape the inevitable gossip that she knows will come. While onholiday she encounters Draco and the pair embark on a passion filled affair. Istheir romance just a holiday fling or will it continue once they have to returnto their normal lives?

The Hunger byeilonwy- Explicit, 10 chapters, complete

Written for the Dramione Couples Remix fest on LJ, which hasjust concluded. My chosen couple were Little Red Riding Hood and the Big BadWolf.

Future Adventures bycleotheo- M, 11 chapters, complete

During a joint Potions/Charms lesson, Draco is accidentallygiven an overdose of a potion that will allow him to experience time in thefuture. During his time in the future he sees plenty of unexpected things, butwill he like how his life is going to turn out?

Original Sin byRZZMG- M, 11 chapters, complete

M.L.E. Officer Hermione Granger receives a note to come toMalfoy Manor to prevent her charge, Draco Malfoy, from breaking the terms ofhis probation. The note claims Draco is an unregistered Animagus & he’strapped himself in animal form, unable to reverse the spell. He needs her help!2013 HP-Porninthesun entry. Dramione. Romance/Drama/Hot Shag. Fest Winner-Mod’sChoice! COMPLETE

La Cerise: TheSweetest Cherry by RZZMG- M, 16 chapters, complete

Draco Malfoy visits a Masked Gentlemen’s Club and meets anew courtesan making her debut - a beauty known only as The Princess. She’s upfor auction to the highest bidder, and Draco’s determined to win her! RegencyEra A/U. Draco x Hermione/Dramione. Story nominated and multiple wins at the HPFanfic Fan Poll Awards-see profile for details. COMPLETE.

- Wynken

[229greenkill]

On Saturday, February 15 at 8 PM, please join host Marc Delgado  for  his highly praised music performance series The Song(writer). This month he his guests will be Chris Maxwell,  Holly Miranda and Ambrosia Parsley. BYOB. Ozubar offers unique soft drinks and snacks at unbelievably low prices. Seating 45. Tickets are $10 dollars and may be purchased at the door or reserved on this page.

About Marc Delgado

Marc Delgado has just enough time

left to do what he wants to do.

There is, after all, limited time…

He lives in Woodstock, NY

with his wife

Artist Melanie Delgado

& their daughter

Mary Scout

& the ghost of their dog

Spike.

About Chris Maxwell

Chris Maxwell wrote, recorded, and mixed [his new record “New Store No. 2] with the help of drummer/producer Jeff Lipstein in his studio, Goat House, which sits next to his red house in the Catskill woods of New York, where he has lived for almost twenty years now. It’s close to a wide stream, which looks a little deep-southern if you happen to see it at dusk. He writes and records music for TV in the studio, and makes other people’s records there. For New Store No. 2 , he knew how to round up the talent, which is a talent all its own. On here he’s got Cindy Cashdollar, Rachel Yamagata, Marco Benevento, Amy Helm, Zack Djanikian, Conor Kennedy, David Baron, Mark Sedgwick, Jay Collins, Aaron Johnston, Jesse Murphy, Cheme Gastelum, and Larry Grenadier, among others, along with longtime collaborator Ambrosia Parsley

Maxwell titled the record New Store No. 2 after a song written about his maternal grandfather, K.J. Jamell, who came from Beirut, Lebanon, and settled in a small town in Arkansas and opened a store there. It’s a sort of fractured fairy tale of the melting-pot American dream and the disappearance thereof. “He was like an alien,” Maxwell says about his grandfather. “Nobody could understand him.” I like the way he uses the word “alien” and for a second actually picture a cartoonish alien figure—someone from a faraway galaxy—and then later wonder if Maxwell himself sometimes feels that way. I certainly do. And maybe that’s why I connected so strongly to his first record and now to his second one. I’ve found a fellow friendly alien. Someone who lets you feel a little less ashamed of the squirrel skeletons out in the family garage.

So take your time with this record. Listen a lot before you try to fit things together. Take joy in the bursts and swells. Bask in the parts that hurt. Embrace it all.

About Holly Miranda

There are ways to look back without getting stuck in the past, and to use what is behind as fuel to move forward. Ambrosia Parsley knows this balance well. “I’m certainly guilty of magical thinking,” says Parsley. “Sometimes I wonder things like… Hmmm, if I hold my breath for five minutes, will the universe reward me with the perfect line to finish this song? I may also be superstitious about certain fatalistic tendencies. I think they allow me to walk away from things, to recognize them for what they are, and at some point forge on. So I keep them close. It gives me a bit of a dark wrap, but I do really enjoy the light–I only wish that it came to me as easily.” The New York singer-songwriter is no stranger to conjuring success, selling a half-million records over the last 15 years with her band, Shivaree, having music in the films of Quentin Tarantino and David O Russell while working with the best and brightest, from Laurie Anderson to Chuck D to Hal Wilner to Dave Sitek. In 2006, though, Parsley gave us the slip, ending her band to raise her son in the Catskill countryside. Songs occasionally crept out—as did Parsley herself, sometimes appearing onstage at small clubs or backing friends—but her promised full-length solo debut repeatedly hit snags. Rather than retreat or show regret, the Parsley carried on, finally releasing Weeping Cherry in France in 2013. And now, 18 months later, the album is finally set to be released Stateside this April through Brooklyn’s Barbès Records, and boosted by a new bonus track (“The Answer”). “I’m walking through life with Gomer Pyle’s mojo,” laughs Parsley. “I’ve lost records to record companies, to miles of red-tape silliness, you name it. In one way it’s been good, because I’ve had so many babies hit on the head with frying pans that I don’t take any of them as seriously as I used to. That’s somewhat liberating.” Despite the dark, mysterious and ghostly qualities of her music and persona, Parsley has never been much of a gloom-and-doom girl. Learning to look beyond the expectations that often come with achievement, her songwriting continues to evolve and find new wings. When speaking about her career she may use terms like “fairy dust” and “silver linings,” but at its core, Weeping Cherry is a work of reflective therapy, an opportunity for its maker to speak to loved ones lost, and to treat the past as prologue. In quick succession, in the span of a single year, Parsley endured the deaths of a series of friends, bandmates, and relatives. The songs of Weeping Cherry are, in her words, “basically conversations with dead people—with the exception of one or two, which feature my tried and true: sin, punishment and redemption. I hadn’t written a solid collection in a really long time, but this one was more exorcism than exercise. And even though it’s such a dark one, I never had so much fun making a record.” Working with longtime collaborators Chris Maxwell and Phil Hernandez (aka The Elegant Too), as well as contributors Danny McGough, Joan Wasser, AA Bondy, Benjamin Biolay, and those dearly departed, Parsley recorded the album piecemeal over many months. The first song captured was “Rubble,” a slow, sexy crawl of a tune that features the singer’s stirring vocal climbing the swelling acoustic tide to a quiet cacophony. “It’s about being afraid of getting dragged down under the bed…into hell,” she says. “Sitting there thinking about all the bad things you’ve ever done, and being pulled under, metaphorically and literally.” Remarkably, the song happened in an instant, without preparation—a rare occurrence for Parsley. “Chris and Phil started playing it and I started singing it and it just happened like that, all at once. It’s the one time it’s ever happened, when I didn’t have anything prepared, some little nugget of an idea to start from. But it was as if the soul of the record just strolled into the room and then everything else got built around it.” Another song, “Catalina,” deals with the passing of a close friend and early collaborator. “A year after we scattered his ashes off Catalina, there was a terrible fire on the island,” she says. “He was such a hell-raiser. I was actually sort of surprised it took him that long to set that place on fire.” As a guitar strums over keyboard chords and soft, steady drums, Parsley’s voice echoes out poignant and emotive, yet confident and full—it’s a cathartic experience just listening to her sing the words, “These prayers are meant to bring you back/Dancing through the fires of the dead.” “I can get let myself get weepy every day,” says Parsley. “But as time goes on, and people really close to you start going, the world becomes a collection of ghosts; they’re still very much with you.” As is her nature, Parsley refused to let the process of creating Weeping Cherry be anything short of a celebration of–and conversation with–the past. “I don’t feel like the record sounds really sad because we weren’t really sad when we were making it,” she says. “I usually can’t write about anything while I’m sad. I can only write about it once it’s funny, which can take a really long time, after its been in the bottle a while. We tried, in between a few nightmares, to sound pretty and joyous. I don’t want to be the designated bummer–I like to laugh and dance too much for that.” And as for that seemingly tearful album title? “It’s named after a big cherry tree at the bottom of my road,” she says. “But, also, did you know that kamikaze pilots often painted cherry blossoms on their planes? So, in honor of my friends who were kamikaze pilots, it felt right.”

About Ambrosia Parsley

There are ways to look back without getting stuck in the past, and to use what is behind as fuel to move forward. Ambrosia Parsley knows this balance well. “I’m certainly guilty of magical thinking,” says Parsley. “Sometimes I wonder things like… Hmmm, if I hold my breath for five minutes, will the universe reward me with the perfect line to finish this song? I may also be superstitious about certain fatalistic tendencies. I think they allow me to walk away from things, to recognize them for what they are, and at some point forge on. So I keep them close. It gives me a bit of a dark wrap, but I do really enjoy the light–I only wish that it came to me as easily.” The New York singer-songwriter is no stranger to conjuring success, selling a half-million records over the last 15 years with her band, Shivaree, having music in the films of Quentin Tarantino and David O Russell while working with the best and brightest, from Laurie Anderson to Chuck D to Hal Wilner to Dave Sitek. In 2006, though, Parsley gave us the slip, ending her band to raise her son in the Catskill countryside. Songs occasionally crept out—as did Parsley herself, sometimes appearing onstage at small clubs or backing friends—but her promised full-length solo debut repeatedly hit snags. Rather than retreat or show regret, the Parsley carried on, finally releasing Weeping Cherry in France in 2013. And now, 18 months later, the album is finally set to be released Stateside this April through Brooklyn’s Barbès Records, and boosted by a new bonus track (“The Answer”). “I’m walking through life with Gomer Pyle’s mojo,” laughs Parsley. “I’ve lost records to record companies, to miles of red-tape silliness, you name it. In one way it’s been good, because I’ve had so many babies hit on the head with frying pans that I don’t take any of them as seriously as I used to. That’s somewhat liberating.”

Despite the dark, mysterious and ghostly qualities of her music and persona, Parsley has never been much of a gloom-and-doom girl. Learning to look beyond the expectations that often come with achievement, her songwriting continues to evolve and find new wings. When speaking about her career she may use terms like “fairy dust” and “silver linings,” but at its core, Weeping Cherry is a work of reflective therapy, an opportunity for its maker to speak to loved ones lost, and to treat the past as prologue.

In quick succession, in the span of a single year, Parsley endured the deaths of a series of friends, bandmates, and relatives. The songs of Weeping Cherry are, in her words, “basically conversations with dead people—with the exception of one or two, which feature my tried and true: sin, punishment and redemption. I hadn’t written a solid collection in a really long time, but this one was more exorcism than exercise. And even though it’s such a dark one, I never had so much fun making a record.” Working with longtime collaborators Chris Maxwell and Phil Hernandez (aka The Elegant Too), as well as contributors Danny McGough, Joan Wasser, AA Bondy, Benjamin Biolay, and those dearly departed, Parsley recorded the album piecemeal over many months. The first song captured was “Rubble,” a slow, sexy crawl of a tune that features the singer’s stirring vocal climbing the swelling acoustic tide to a quiet cacophony. “It’s about being afraid of getting dragged down under the bed…into hell,” she says. “Sitting there thinking about all the bad things you’ve ever done, and being pulled under, metaphorically and literally.” Remarkably, the song happened in an instant, without preparation—a rare occurrence for Parsley. “Chris and Phil started playing it and I started singing it and it just happened like that, all at once. It’s the one time it’s ever happened, when I didn’t have anything prepared, some little nugget of an idea to start from. But it was as if the soul of the record just strolled into the room and then everything else got built around it.” Another song, “Catalina,” deals with the passing of a close friend and early collaborator. “A year after we scattered his ashes off Catalina, there was a terrible fire on the island,” she says. “He was such a hell-raiser. I was actually sort of surprised it took him that long to set that place on fire.” As a guitar strums over keyboard chords and soft, steady drums, Parsley’s voice echoes out poignant and emotive, yet confident and full—it’s a cathartic experience just listening to her sing the words, “These prayers are meant to bring you back/Dancing through the fires of the dead.” “I can get let myself get weepy every day,” says Parsley. “But as time goes on, and people really close to you start going, the world becomes a collection of ghosts; they’re still very much with you.” As is her nature, Parsley refused to let the process of creating Weeping Cherry be anything short of a celebration of–and conversation with–the past. “I don’t feel like the record sounds really sad because we weren’t really sad when we were making it,” she says. “I usually can’t write about anything while I’m sad. I can only write about it once it’s funny, which can take a really long time, after its been in the bottle a while. We tried, in between a few nightmares, to sound pretty and joyous. I don’t want to be the designated bummer–I like to laugh and dance too much for that.” And as for that seemingly tearful album title? “It’s named after a big cherry tree at the bottom of my road,” she says. “But, also, did you know that kamikaze pilots often painted cherry blossoms on their planes? So, in honor of my friends who were kamikaze pilots, it felt right.”

About Green Kill

Green Kill is a multi-use performance space dedicated to a diverse and growing creative community. Green Kill’s mission is to create artistic opportunities through peer to peer organization of talented and dedicated visual, performing and literary artists.

Find out how you can support green kill here: https://greenkill.org/2019/07/12/please-support-green-kill/

Green Kill is a handicapped accessible exhibition performance Space located at 229 Greenkill Avenue, Kingston, New York, 12401, 229greenkill@greenkill.org, open Tuesday to Saturday from 3  pm to 9 pm, with a selection of events on Sundays. Green Kill is closed on national holidays. The phone number is 1(347)689-2323. For the event schedule please visit http://greenkill.org/events. Exhibition viewing hours are Tuesday-Saturday, 3-5 PM or you may make a special appointment by contacting 229greenkill@greenkill.org or phoning 347-689-2323.

The Song(writer), March 21 On Saturday, February 15 at 8 PM, please join host Marc Delgado  for  his highly praised music performance series 

[littlenomo]

Camping Kings

Firstly let me say; camping really lived up to the hype.

I’m pretty sure it all began with Alex and I inviting ourselves on Jen and Dan’s romantic and secluded camping holiday, but however it happened, Jen, Alex, Naomi and Dan (or J.A.N.D. as we’re sometimes known) set off on a camping adventure to Alencon and Saumur in France. We had planned on visiting one other spot by the beach during the week, but after putting the tent up in the dark on the first night after around 18 hours of travelling, we decided that erecting and dismantling the tent twice in one week would be more than enough. As already mentioned, the journey to France was less than ideal, filled with traffic jams, delays and lots and lots of rain, but I could already tell we were on to a winner with this trip with the hilarious, occasionally boarding on offensive, car games. The French Toast Game was a real brain strainer, and the number plate game always lead to profanity, but I think my favourite was “Three, two, one; it’s not brick!”… not sure what its actual title is, but ask me about it some time.

Anyway, we made it! And the sun came out too.

The first camp site was really well-equipped with a lovely pool (in which I made the best ball-catch of my life – a perfect cleavage shot!), really nice facilities and plenty of activities going on including some sort of astronomy club, boules tournaments (you really had to watch where you were walking in case you interrupted a game!) and roasted pigs on offer. It was also situated in a really picturesque little village called Fresnay-Sur-Sarthe with a gorgeous river running through it and wooden shuttered houses with ivy growing on them. I felt like I was in Beauty and the Beast. We did also visit “the most beautiful village in France”, but we all agreed that Fresnay could give it a run for its money. In the other village we visited a lovely church and a tiny little chapel (with paper men cut outs hanging from the ceiling for some reason) and I absolutely loved the black metal sculptures in the church of the journey of Christ to the cross. While Alex and I were waiting for Dan and Jen to pull the car around, we actually stumbled across the sculptor’s studio, by a very pretty little bridge. We popped in for a nosy and there he was, sitting quietly in the corner with his apron on. I wish I had been able to afford a souvenir to remember his work, or that I at least could remember his name, but as usual my memory is hopeless!

All in all a fabulous first stop, and we loved just enjoying the space on the campsite too - chilling out by the river. It was a bit less relaxing when the boys decided to venture out into the river to sit on a big log and take lots of photos, but boys will be boys.

On route to our second camping spot we had probably our most memorable stop at Chateau Chenonceau. It was literally a fairy-tale castle, inside and out! It had history, grandeur, far-spanning gardens and the building itself arched over a large river on which we took a hot but wonderful boat ride. There was amazing artwork throughout the chateau and in nearly every room there was some form of stunning floral arrangement. As we enjoyed our delicious sorbets on the way out of the grounds, we discovered the flower and vegetable garden (although ‘garden’ doesn’t really do it justice - it was immense!), next to which was the old farmyard. Nestled in the centre of the farmyard was a beautiful old barn yard building where all through the year a handful of florists work on those floral arrangements in the chateau, using the flowers from that incredible garden. Now if you want to talk about dream jobs that’s got to be pretty up there! I’m sat here now in my flat in Manchester thinking about that chateau and it seems like a dream. What a great day.

We were instantly happy with our decision not to go to the beach as we pulled up at camp site number two. The drive to the site, especially at sunset, was breath-taking; following along the Loire river and seemingly leaving civilisation behind. The second site couldn’t have been more different from the first. Just a patch of land really with a showers and sinks building and a tiny little reception come drinks stand which I think only opened 4 hours a day.

We were in wine land, so we mostly made the most of that fact, but we did also enjoy incredible crepes and cheese (Alex and I had a platter of cheeses which were made of only goat’s and sheep’s milk!) and again really enjoyed cooking and chilling at the campsite. On our first full day at Camping Belle Rive we had a really rather brilliant BBQ, if I do say so myself. It had meat and veggie skewers, prawns, corn on the cob, huge chicken thighs and pineapple rings – a BBQ of kings you might say - and all on one disposable BBQ (with a bit of help from the hob). However, it wasn’t all smooth sailing… While putting up the wind breaker for the BBQ Dan managed to smash his hand (repeatedly) with our newly acquired mallet (we’d managed to completely disintegrate the one we brought with us on the rock solid ground on which we set up camp on day one). A small, but alarmingly bulging lump quickly appeared on his hand and I think he’s still suffering with it now! Also, after the BBQ was devoured, Alex decided to try and keep a fire going in the little tray, but Jen had to come to the rescue with the water bottle in the end as the flames started catching on the grass and I think Alex had visions of our tent going up in flames. “There’s a fine line between a hero and a villain”, as it turns out. We did still manage to roast some marshmallows over our gas cooker though to end the night – I’m not usually a fan of “fake” marshmallows but these toasted perfectly!!

We did two wine tasting sessions before I had to leave the group. Both were recommendations of the very lovely lady at the tourist office who I’m pretty sure everyone in the group had a crush on. The first was in a cellar and walking distance from our campsite, and the second in a vineyard. We think that it was because we were English, but at the cellar we were given the little silver tasting dishes and just left to our own devices in a big cave full of 22 different wines!! We were slightly disappointed with the reds, but there was a white that tasted like marshmallows which stands out in my mind. We all gave a score out of ten for each wine and re-tried any we particularly liked, seeing as no one was keeping tabs. We got a pretty interesting little tour on the second tasting, seeing the machines they use to press the grapes and learning that some sparkling wines become sparkling naturally, rather than having anything added. Then we tried some really lovely wines there, I think my favourite was the “friends wine”, named thus because you should drink it socially rather than with a meal. The woman running our tasting then recommended a wine tasting festival that was in Saumur that evening (where we just so happened to be heading!), which was just €5 per head for a wine glass and as much wine as you could manage! We stopped by the festival for a beer before dinner and we could already tell it was going to be a really fun place to spend some time later that night. In the meantime however, we had a stonkingly good tapas meal, with snails, pig’s feet and of course more wine a little further into Saumur. The chef came out to speak to us personally and check we were happy with our food and when we asked him how he managed in such a minute kitchen he said he’d been in since 7am as he had to prepare one dish at a time! The festival was ace and a really really fun way to end my bit of the holiday. They had live music (of which Alex bought a CD), lots and lots of people and even more wine! We had to wait for Jen to sober up enough to drive the car back as we were struggling to figure out taxi’s, so we finished up the night with another crepe and a cocktail simply called ‘Crazy’. It wasn’t great, but it certainly didn’t take away from the day overall. It couldn’t have been better.

Although it was horrible having to leave this wonderful holiday early, especially because I had to go on to something so sad and disconnected from the trip, it’s lovely to think back through what an amazing week it was and try to recapture a bit of the relaxation I felt while we were there. Star gazing, beautiful scenery, sunshine and lots and lots of laughs with brilliant friends; it’s exactly the kind of thing you need every once in a while.

[soitendslikethis1606]

Travel journal 2017

I wrote this once on my phone just before we lost our passports and the panic attacked and I forgot to save it so here am I writing this again. I am in the airport, about to fly back to Singapore. We have ended our first long trip together. We have never stopped moving for the past 3 weeks. We walked everyday for at least 6-7 km, taking any walk that google map suggests as below 30mins. In the last unexpected days in Paris, it went up to a lot of 1hour walks because we were just fed up with the crowded and fifthy metros, as well as the nerve cracking mentility we had every time we get on it, worrying that some pickpocketing might happen again- although we had had almost nothing left to be stolen. The walking is partially because we don't drive but also because we see so much more when we walk. Plus, I just enjoyed walking with Anh, we never ran out of things to talk about. One day we walked up to 20km, hiking up to a waterfall in a small town on the other side of the lake from Annecy. Next day, we cycled another 20km around that lake. The craziest hike was from Odda to Trolltunga, up to 1100m attitude, 11km up, 12km down on the next day. 1km extra because I hurt my knee and couldn't take the stiff slope down. We came ill prepared. Not enough warm clothes and water proof materials for our backpacks. It was raining on and off all day on the day we went up. Everything was wet as soon as we reached the iconic 'touge'. Anh fell down several times, some were funny to watch, some just made my heart literally skip a beat. I saw snow for the first time but it's just too cold for me to be excited about it. Cold, slippery, exhausted. We camped overnight on the top. It's scary... but the view was just so breaktaking that we almost forgot how scary it was to hike under the rain in clothes that are suitable for just a lovely sunny day. The most surreal moment was when the fog gradually went away and the sun shone on the rocky side of the mountain. It's lit up, shimmering.. I told Anh it made me almost believe in God. Next day we went down it was the most beautiful sunny day I've ever had. Never before have I so yearn for the sun. I took a fall on the way down, hurt my butt and bruise my arm badly. I think the bruise is just making me look tougher, or making people look at Anh subspiously, thinking there is some kind of domestic abuse going on between us. We talked to Howard- an ex military man and Maika- a professional trainer for outdoor activities and outdoor living - they are two guides leading us up and down the mountain. They are just super human to us. When asked what the highest mountain she has ever climbed, Maika said it's not the highest one that is the toughest, it's the longest one. Hers was a 15day hike continuously, carrying her own clothes and food supplies for the whole journey (for this tour, they carried food, tents and sleeping bags up for us, we only carried our clothes and essentials yet at the 4th or 5th kilometer, and already it felt like rock on my back). People in Norway also speak fluently several languages. Even the girl serves at our hostel restaurant speak fluently 5 languages and is learning another 2. When she spoke to Lucille- a French friend we made staying in the same hostel room in Odda, Lucille said she has perfect french. How amazing is that? We came to realise how physically weak we are compared to people from else where in the world and there are so much more, so many things for us to learn in this life. It motivates me to learn Chinese now as I'm back.. I'm just not sure how long the motivation would last until I need another trip for motivation :P Being on top of Trollunga is one of the proudest things I've ever done and I'm sure Anh feels the same. Definitely best moment of this year and most of all I've got to share it with Anh. ----- I had a mix feeling toward Paris. I'm not going to defense Paris from Anh anymore about how filthy, messy and choastic it is and how rude people are in Paris. Sorry French friends, there always are nice people and rude people anywhere I know that for a fact, but we tried our best talking to people as much as we want to get to know the place and its people. We just didn't get much friendly response, not to mention the increasing crimes in the city. The police just gets used to thef and pickpocketing reports. One policewoman even talked to us as if putting my wallet inside my backpack and had it stolen is entirely and obviously my fault. However, Paris is still charming to me in a way, put aside all those bad experiences. We didn't have anyone else apart from each other to talk to when we were there- maybe that's one of the reason why Paris is less exciting. But we found our way to entertain ourselves. I went to a jazz club and danced it off with Anh for the first time. Believe it or not, 6 years together and I've never been to a club with Anh before. Yet suddenly with jazz, the modern, trendy dance moves became irrelevant. They played in the basement built with bricks walls, low ceiling and not every spacious. The lead saxophone stopped at the end of each song to introduce the name of the next sone with a short description. I like the way he did that- reminds me of the scene in La la land where Seb told Mia that people don't understand jazz because they never really listen to it. Jazz always just music in the background in restaurants or some gatherings. So the way the lead saxophone introduced each song made me feel like each song is beautiful and they mean it everytime they play it, that people actually care, that they were there for the music itself- not something jazzy in the background. We danced to two or three songs, crazy moves. We were the worst dancers.. but who cares haha. The rest of the time we watched people dance. Night fell and we walked a little bit to North Dame, sat in front for a while then went home. It was Anh's birthday that night. It was a successful birthday: we had good Pho, listened to live jazz and walked the city of Paris with endless talking. I was deeply thankful to whoever has the power to arrange for people to meet each other because I met Anh and we stay together, and tomorrow wouldn't be boring even though I had no idea what we were going to do the next day. I knew with Anh we would have fun.. Paris is all about art- that's what people say. Of course we had our own art experience too. We went by the Lourve and saw people ridiculously queued up for, I guess, a kilometer long under the sun just to come in and see the tiny Mona Lisa. I wonder how many of them actually understand those artworks in there. We came back here later after we lost our passports and stuck in Paris. The queue was better and Anh asked if I wanted to come inside for once, since we were already there. But I looked it up online and their paintings are from the renaissaince period- which I'm not very much interested in.. so we didn't come in. Instead, Musee de Orsay just made my dream come true. Monet. Van Gogh. Manet. Renoid. Camille. Gauguin. Bonnard. Even Picasso before he drew abstract and cubism. All of them in one place. I remember finding their paintings when I was a kid looking through dad's magazine cutouts; when I was in school daydreaming on tumblr during school lessons; when I was in my darkest days. And they were just real in front of my eyes. I could see the strokes that they made, how big the paintings are (poor Van Gogh he got the smallest paintings which made my heart sank), how different it is to look closely and look from distance. I could smell the oil paint in the rooms which I think just another trick the museum does to stimulate experience; yet it really got me. I discovered new artists I never heard of before but I love their paintings in there. Anh hadn't really been into art.. but he accompanied me to these place anyway. I love it when he said he loved Monet's the Water lily bond and the House of Parliment London; love that he cared about what I like. Nexy day we went to the Centre Pompiduo. This was where it channelled Anh's inner 9gag boy. We debated for a good hour on whether modern art is really art or just people's way of bullshiting their socalled arts. It was a good talk yet I still couldn't turn him around- at least we shared. We were just hanging around in the campus and watching this performance artist sweeping yellow paddy rice. His exagerating movements made it feel like he was dancing. The way I saw it is that he was making those stroke on the black floor using his random movements and create quiet interesting texture on the floor. After awhile there was another girl came in to continue doing that for him. Anh just hated it, he said they are pretendious and exagerating shit to make it look artistic but it has no meaning. We had another good talk over that until we were hungry and left. That's the only reason he could convince me out of some place I got hooked to. I regreted not coming into the exhibitions. Maybe some good, thought-provoking, meaningful masterpieces in there could convince Anh for me without saying a word. ----- Castellane is soooo lovely. Perfect weather. Sunny but not so burning. We were staying at a BnB not far from the town centre with Leo and Petra. They are the loveliest couple I've ever met hands down. We had long chats with them every morning during our breakfast about so many things- like me and Petra trying to convince Anh to believe in real modern art. One morning Petra rushed to our room calling our names, asking if we want to see a troop of thousand sheeps, donkeys and mountain goats on their journey up to the mountain. We ran to the road, stood by, waiting for them. There were literally thousand of them! 1060 to be exact. They each had a bell on their necks and the whole troop make an oschetra when they walk. It's just amazing.. I've never seen so many sheeps before, nor the way farmers do their work. Petra let us know that they travel up to the higher alpes in the summer for greener grass when it gets too hot and grass on flat land turns brown. We tried to talk to some of the farmers and felt so heartwarming that although their english is really limited, as much as our french, they tried to tell us about their journey. (See Parisians.. they are just farmers and they speak english to us). Up until we met there, they have walked 12km in 10 days. We walked with them for a while then left for out water trekking trip. The water trekking trip almost scared the shit out of us. Gorge de Verdon is so beautiful, so so beautiful, even better seeing from below, just above the water. The water was so fast and strong, it's scary at the same time. We were floating, letting our bodies go with the water flow. There are times I thought my head would hit a big rock. The route also includes some jumping off a high rock onto the water. And I think I would never forget the feeling I had in the moment after I just throw myself in the air and before my body touches water. It's indescriptable. Next morning we felt like seeing the animals again so we went for a hike up, tracing after their poops- yes they poop a lot along the way. But then we lost track, couldn't find them and end up at the lake. I made Anh do some kayaking. While stopping for our lunch, still on the boat, a spider appeared and Anh freaked out- no suprise for me. After we managed to turn away from the burst, the spider out of sight, he said he really wanted to jump down into the water. Apparently he couldn't. He was halfway finishing his bread with pate filling, couldn't risk wasting the food. Yep, that's my boyfriend. Not until were we in Castellane that we had a full course real french dinner. The first dinner was delicious! Just like the restaurant's name: Ô Delicion.. we were the first to be there. The French usually have late dinner, around 8 I guess. We usually get hungry around 6 and always need to wait until 7 when the shops are open. I had terrine for appetiter, Anh had artichoke soup. The soup was really nice and I kept thinking about how beautifully shaped the artichoke is before it's cooked- just a random thought. My main course was devine, tenderly cooked port chop with a kind of mushroom that I had never had before. It went with 2 sides: fish egg and some kind of baked egg with vegetable. Anh was jealous of my main dish because he only had average fish with the same sides for himself. The French are really great at cooking. Even the Vietnamese food is better in French than in anywhere else we've been to. I told Anh to stop comparing them to the British because it's such an insult- do the British really cook anything good? ---- Almost 2 weeks since I'm back. Finally got my sound sleep back last night. I've always been exhausted. So many things to catch up and so many plans to be done. Tonight Ellen didn't take the train home with me, chi G didn't join me for dinner. I have the evening for myself. I feel sad about not having Anh beside me. I remember feeling we were so strong and we could be anything when we were together. Now we are apart- he couldn't fix my computer and I couldn't attend his graduation. Maybe I just miss anh. I think of the good time we had when we were on the trip. Reading the news about Dear Vincent movie remind me of Annecy- a lovely town down south France. I regret we had time but didn't try to ask around if the movie was being screened there because I knew its premier screen had just ended a week before we arrived. Now I need to wait until they screen it in Singapore which would take forever... not many people interested in such movie I suppose. When we were in Annecy it were the sunniest days of the trip. We fell right in love with the airbnb we stayed in as soon as we arrived. Cecile- our host showed us around with phone in her hand, a translate apps open ready. The house is isolated from the touristy madness outside in the market. There is a lovely garden leading to an openning where you can go down to the river running across the town. We spent afternoons sitting there, seeing people above the bridge, waiting for the ducks and swans to swim by and feed them. Anh totally loved that activity, best with an ice cream in hand (ice cream is for him not the ducks).

[brio-burton-blog]

Get To Know Me Tag

So I attempted to make a YouTube video doing this but it turns out that, as I predicted, I am much more confident behind the camera. I don’t tend to enjoy showing my face all that much. I thought that a pretty cool alternative was to write instead. So here we go I guess. 

1. What is your middle name? 

I happen to be a deprived child as I do not have a middle name. But I do get what seems to be a pretty complicated first name but I’m not sure that that’s much of a luxury. It makes things difficult in Starbuck’s haha. 

2. What is your favourite colour? 

My favourite colour is like a dark emerald/forest green. If I have fellow nerds reading this, then you will probably understand me when I say the best way for me to describe the colour is to call it ‘Slytherin green’. (FYI, I’m not a Slytherin, I just love that sort of dark green.) 

3. Who was your first best friend? 

Her name was Rachel. We went to the same childminder and when we were very very young we used to argue a lot. We grew out of that stage and we were best friends for many years. Unfortunately, I’m not in contact with her anymore.

4. How tall are you?

I literally just went to measure myself for this question. I’m exactly 5′4″. To be honest, I’m pretty proud of that as my family are all either short or average height, so to fall under average is a privilege with my genetics. 

5. Cats or dogs? 

Cats. 100%. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs. They are pretty energetic though and cats are pretty chill and therefore much more on my wavelength. Not as much as tortoises are though. Those guys are awesome. 

6. Funniest moment throughout school? 

Okay so I presume this excludes College which is a shame because I’ve got some really awesome moments from College. So if we are talking high school and primary school, I’m kind of at a loss. I didn’t have a particularly happy childhood, but that’s a whole other story. If I had to pick, I’d probably go with my maths lessons. I was in set 1 so people assumed that our classes were boring and hard work, but actually, in year 9, we had the most awesome teacher. We’d basically spend the entire lesson gossiping and the teacher would tell us some funny stories about herself. The one I remember best was about her irrational fear of rice. (I don’t even know aha.) Also, when I got diagnosed with severe depression, she was super supportive. Turns out that she struggled with it herself, so she completely understood. What a legend, I hope she’s doing well. 

7. How many countries have you visited? 

Okay so I’ll have to count. I live in England and I’ve visited Wales, Ireland, France, Spain, Ibiza, Minorca, Majorca, Lanzarote, Fuerteventura, Zante, Crete, Italy, Germany, Japan and Switzerland. I think that’s it, although I have visited some of these places multiple times. So I think that’s 15 altogether. 

8. Are you in/have you been to College? 

Well I’m using the English definition of College which is generally further education for 16-18 y/olds. But this can differ depending on your educational background. So I’m starting College in September. I’ve just finished school which is an odd and kind of sad thing. But I’m doing a course in TV and Film production which is very exciting! 

9. What was your favourite/worst subject in high school?

This is a fun question. My favourite(s) were always Physics, Maths, Art, Music and Drama. I hated the acting part of drama but coming up with ideas for productions was always super fun and interesting for me. My worst subject(s) were always English and P.E. Thank the lord above that I don’t have to do those subjects anymore. I love writing and I love reading but I hate being told what to write/read. And I think if someone ever asks me to analyse text again I’ll run away to the north pole and live as an eskimo. We won’t even get on to the subject of P.E. I don’t want that pain to be brought to the surface. 

10. What is your favourite drink? 

Coffee. Yes! I love it more than I love myself. Soy lattes. Honestly so amazing. But I do like the odd smoothie, tea, and sparkling water. 

11. What is your favourite animal? 

Essentially all of them. But if I had to pick I’d probably go with Pigs. But I do love Cows, Goats, Degus, Bearded Dragons, Tortoises, and Cats. Ooh also Gorillas. I really want to hug a Gorilla. Probably one of my life goals. I clearly have high expectations of my life. 

12. What is your favourite perfume? 

I do love the Strawberry scented one from The Body Shop. And Si by Giorgio Armani smells lovely and reminds me of my mum which is nice. Also Eccentric from Victoria Secret smells heavenly. 

13. Tea or Coffee? 

Coffee would be my first choice most of the time but tea never fails to cheer me up when I’m down. So I want to say both. But I think I’d find it harder to live without coffee than tea. 

14. What would you name your children? 

I haven’t really thought about it. I’d maybe say Alistar, Belle, Luna, or Tom? I’m sure I’ll find more names that I like though in the future. 

15. What sports do you/have you played? 

I’m not a massive fan of sports to be honest but I enjoy swimming, diving, biking and badminton occasionally. I went through a very sporty stage where I was in the Basketball, Football, Netball and Badminton team. Ah the days when I had energy and was productive. How far ago they feel. I also LOVE dancing but I mainly do it when I’m home alone as I’m possibly the least coordinated person on Earth. I can’t even run without it looking like I’m on some form of recreational drug. 

16. What is your favourite book? 

Reasons To Stay Alive by Matt Haig. Matt is a brilliant writer and a lovely guy. I met him a few weeks back. It was a privilege. There are very few people that I feel comfortable around from the get go, but he was one of them. In this book he talks about mental heath. It’s incredibly moving and always makes me feel incredibly lucky to be alive, even though I don’t always feel that way. If you don’t know him, check his work out, follow him on twitter etc etc. (@matthaig1) He also writes novels and I’m currently reading his latest, ‘How to Stop Time’ It’s shaping up to be extraordinary. (Have I sold him enough yet?)      

17. Who are some of your favourite YouTubers? 

I have many, many, many of those. I shall reel off a list. Amy Ordman, The Bakeey, Chris Klemens, Alexis G. Zall, Rose Ellen Dix, TheRoxetera, WiseHufflepuff, Hannah Witton, emmablackery, BriaAndChrissy, Cammie Scott, LukeIsNotSexy, UnsolicitedProject, JaackMaate, Ash Hardell, Banana Warrior Princess, James Aspey, nowthisisliving, The Vegan Activist, doddleoddle, Stef Sanjati, TheRealAlexBertie, MissFenderr, MilesChronicles, Ally Hills, Kristina Schiano, Vegan Geezer, Evan Edinger, Tessa Netting, Rob Chapman, Mayin Bialik, MyHarto, Lucy Moon, Savannah Brown, Jake Edwards and Alien in a Box. 

Note: I am also subscribed to various BuzzFeed channels, various band accounts, Watch Mojo, TheEllenShow, The Graham Norton Show, Pottermore and other YouTubers that I’m not a fan of as such, their channels and topics just interest me. 

18. What is your favourite movie? 

Ahh. How am I supposed to choose?! I am such a movie nerd. Okay. My top 5 are Girl Interrupted, Fight Club, Sweeny Todd (the one with Johnny Depp), Pitch Perfect 2 and the live action Beauty and The Beast. (I would feel mean picking one and not all of the Harry Potter Movies.) I’m going to have to choose the live action Beauty and The Beast simply because it’s fun, uplifting and so beautifully made. (Also the soundtrack is heaven.)   

19. Are you single or taken? 

Single. 

20. What’s your idea of an ideal first date? 

Maybe coffee and a posh night out in London. Like a jazz bar and maybe a theatre performance. Honestly, I doubt that would ever happen, but I suppose a girl can dream. If I get to choose who the date is with could I opt for Anna Kendrick? Kind regards. 

21. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? 

Excluding my primary school boyfriend, 4. There was someone I met in hospital, someone I met at school, someone I met online through a mutual friend, someone that lives round the corner from me. 

22. Favourite memory from childhood? 

Erm... I’m sure there’s something... Well I do always miss being young and innocent and waking up early and walking to school with my parents. The birds would tweet and the sun would shine and I’d have lovely chats with the teachers and my childminder. And my dad would pick me up and we’d bike home and I would watch 64 Zoo Lane and eat Ice Cream. Ah the good old days. Ooh and Christmases and trips to Cornwall. Not gonna lie I still enjoy all of this stuff. I guess childhood wasn’t too bad. Well, for the first 7 years at least.

23. Do you speak any other languages and how well? 

I don’t. I can do the odd phrase in Spanish, Italian, Greek, French, German and Japanese at a push. I won and award for my French around 5 years back. But I’ve slept a lot since then so I don’t remember all that much. Also I had a terrible French teacher a few years back who put me off the subject for life. Let’s just say she wasn’t my biggest fan. 

24. Do you have any siblings? 

I have a step sister. But that’s all. She’s pretty amazing though so. Also she’s currently living in Japan which means I get cool stuff because it turns out that Japan are way ahead the UK in creating top notch backpacks. 

25. How would you describe your fashion sense? 

Band merch/Harry Potter tees, jeans and hoodies, pretty much. I also own the odd flannel. Doc Martens, Converse and Vans are the footwear of choice. Beanies are pretty cool too. For colder days denim jackets and ‘leather’ jackets are my jam. So basically the casual lesbian look is my style. Way to fit the stereotype, Bri. 

26. What is your favourite restaurant? 

Okay, I have three. YoSushi, Handmade Burger Company and Bella Italia. All three have amazing vegan options. Also they all hold really happy memories for me. 

27. What are some of your favourite TV shows? 

Ooh, I like quite a few. My number one would have to be The Big Bang Theory. I also love Sherlock, Orange is The New Black, Miranda, 13 Reasons Why and Stranger Things. 

28. PC or Mac? 

Mac all the way. I have nothing against PC but I recently invested in a mac and it is my life. I find it easier to use and I much prefer the layout. 

29. What phone do you have? 

I have an Iphone 6S in rose gold. (With a really cute cat case, just saying.) 

30. What is one of your bad habits? 

Biting my nails. I’ve done it for my whole life and I can’t, nor do I have any intention to stop. 

That’s all for today, thanks so much for reading! I’m definitely going to try and post much more often from now on. 

Lots of love, Briony.

[thedateranalyst]

Maybae There’s More

I’m a sell out and I’m sorry. The more avid NSNC fans amongst you may have already noticed that the blog posts have been dwindling in regularity over the past few months. There are two reasons for this. Firstly, despite kicking off 2017 with high hopes, the truth is: there are only so many disastrous dates a girl can go on before she becomes disheartened. Through the cold winter months the lure of warm fires, pyjamas and reruns of Mock the Week proved too tempting when compared with expensive drinks, uninspiring small talk and excessive aftershave inhalation.

I therefore applied the same approach I take to New Year’s gym memberships to my love life, who could possibly have the motivation to do anything in January? Surely, once the days got warmer and the evenings got longer, I would feel much more proactively inclined. I therefore resigned myself to selflessly upholding the ‘No Sex’ part of this blog’s name. I am rather embarrassed to announce, however, that the ‘No City’ part of the title has proven harder to maintain. Herein lies my second apology: in what can only be described as the corporate equivalent of a whirl-wind romance, I have found myself moving to London. As disappointed as I am in myself, the thought of how smug Lawyer Bae would be if he knew makes me feel even worse.

My initial thought was: ‘Think of the number of people in London! Think of the number of men! This’ll be the end of the blog, I’ll find Bae in five minutes flat!’. I was the small town girl, I had been living in a lonely world. I boarded my train, albeit not at midnight, and headed off to start my new life, certain that my future husband would be waiting on the platform at Euston station. As I sit on said train, watching Cumbria’s rolling hills gradually evolve into urban sprawl, I’m feeling rather reflective so have decided to look back  through the highs and multiple lows of NSNC.

Before the birth of No Sex, No City I had always treated Tinder as a game. Over the past nine months I have compiled a wealth of highly unreliable research. Through various watertight sources such as wine-fuelled friends, those really nice drunk girls you meet in club loos and Glamour articles,  I have learnt that I was not alone in my opinions. Rather than searching for my soul mate I was busy trying to work out my own level of attractiveness by measuring it against that of my matches.

Tom may have a nice photo as best man at his brother’s wedding, enjoy hiking and have his own house, but these attributes aren’t exciting, they’re safe. I know that Craig, a Men’s Health model who thoughtfully drinks coffee in monochrome and has included his snapchat username in his bio will in all likelihood turn out to be vain, vacuous and riddled with venereal diseases. He is  also bloody beautiful. I don’t swipe right on Craig to solve global famine, or even with the intention of talking to him. I swipe right to see if he has swiped right for me. If he has, we must be equally chiselled and smouldering, even if my bedroom mirror doesn’t say so. I used dating apps to boost my ego rather than find my spouse.

It was therefore partially with a sense of self-righteous open-mindedness, and partially with an inkling that there was some quite good blog fodder to be found, that I resolutely decided to swipe right to both the Toms and the Craigs of this world. Whilst I was busily setting up dates with this eclectic Cumbrian cross section I made my second discovery.

Actual statistics now state that one in three relationships start online. Despite this, although diligently swiping, and even occasionally chatting, I found a huge disparity between the number of my friends who use dating apps and the number of them that actually go on dates. Now, some, maybe even many, people would argue that my personal experience does not do a great deal to encourage others to put their money where their cyber-mouth is. My amorous exploits have undeniably not proven successful but I would argue, neither have they been total failures. The dates may not have been great they were better than the ‘what ifs’ I would have been faced with had I not gone. I am also much more knowledgeable on goat farming, cement laying, mobile phone contracts and aerodynamics than I was nine months ago. As much as I hate to admit it, Lawyer Bae’s unwelcome advice may even prove quite useful when I’m flat hunting with the man of my dreams who must currently be on the tube to meet me at Euston. 

.....It has now been three weeks since I wrote the above. Three weeks into my new metropolitan life and I’ve realised there was a vital flaw in my well thought out plan: a higher density of men does not equate to a higher ratio of honeys. More people means more weirdos. I can see now that my work is not yet done and neither is this blog. If anything, my task has got harder: there are now quite literally millions more frogs to kiss before I hold any chance of finding Prince Charming.  So whilst the title may have to change slightly, it doesn’t look like this blog is going anywhere anytime soon….