#but once it gets stable i'm going to leave it along for a while

[wankerwatch]

many apologies for the repeated post creation & deletion, the bot immediately hit an issue when new votes were made and i had no idea because the library i'm using doesn't error when post creation fails. i've just had to spent the last little while figuring out wtf was wrong and fix it. more details:

putting aside the shite library not telling me a post didn't create, i also had to deal with the tumblr API also not telling me what the fuck i was doing wrong

it turns out that the new votes actually finally had enough people in 1 party voting 1 way that the way I built the text blocks was causing a block to exceed the max text length, but i had to just guess that this was actually the issue because tumblr's API helpfully threw back

code: 0 message: 'upsy woopsy you did a fucky wucky'

(slightly abridged since i've lost the actual message and cba making a new one)

this is less than useless, but after looking at it and double checking that things worked otherwise, i had a punt that it was the text block length limit that was the issue, and i just happened to be right

the solution is simple tho - when building up the list of individual votes, i now do it name-by-name and check the length as i go. once it gets to a point where the next name would exceed this limit, i just drop out into a new block. doing this i've been able to properly create the vote post for the last couple days

on top of this i've also now added some manual error checks so that failing to create a post should now throw a proper error, and the random timeout errors (which only i saw but they bugged me) should now be less frequent. hopefully the votes over the next couple days should be a good test to make sure these changes are working properly

[dakusan]

W h e r e V a m p i r e ! S K Z L i k e s t o B i t e Y o u

Vampire!SKZ OT8 x Reader | eight fangs. eight fixations. and every filthy way they ruin you where it hurts the most

🔞synopsis: You thought you knew desire. You thought you understood sex. Then they bit you. This isn't love. This is hunger. Worship. Power. A kiss laced with venom. A cock buried in your cunt while your blood runs hot down their chin. Eight vampires. Eight bite locations. Eight ways to lose your mind and beg for more.

💌a/n: Welcome to fucking Wreck Me Wednesdays. This was supposed to be “mini.” Instead I wrote eight vampire sex case files with feeding traits, bite kinks, and full-blown NSFW lore. Somewhere between Chan’s heartbite and Han's “mine mine mine,” I lost the plot and my soul. Some are longer. Some are feral. Some are shorter. All of them ruined me and they shall ruin you too. Read responsibly. Stay hydrated. Stretch your legs. Cry in the bathtub. p.s. reblog = consent to be ruined by a vampire. p.p.s. Tell me who broke you. For science. p.p.p.s. pls enjoy the song :3. i will also get to the asks later today, haven't forgotten!

⚠️ warnings: NSFW / 18+ ONLY — minors will be fed to Minho. This series contains graphic vampire smut and feral content not suitable for the emotionally stable | Bloodplay + feeding during sex | Biting (everywhere) | Obsessive/possessive behavior | Power dynamics (soft dom to unhinged dom) | Crying, overstimulation, choking on moans | Praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink | Fang kinks. Vein kinks. Chest kinks. Thigh kinks. | Oral (receiving + giving), rough sex, soft sex, bubble bath sex, rage sex

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𓆪 BANG CHAN // Abnormal Vampire Obsessed with control. Addicted to your pulse.

🩸PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Neck or heart — where the pulse is loudest. He wants to hear it skip.

💉FEEDING STYLE ‣ Controlled. Lethal. Intimate. ‣ Always timed with orgasm. May edge before bite. ‣ Often restraints you during feeding. Uses voice as a binding tool.

🫀EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Rapid heartbeat. ‣ Dissociation from overstimulation. ‣ Emotional dependency post-bite. ‣ High risk of imprinting.

⚠️PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasmic blood-loss. ‣ Neck bites mid-thrust = blackout-level pleasure. ‣ Heart bites = ego death. Immediate sobbing. ‣ Lingering soreness + possession marks.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 001 𓆪

"Strip. Slowly."

You're standing in front of him—already trembling, already soaked. He hasn’t touched you. Not yet. Just sits back on the velvet chaise like he’s watching a performance he paid for in centuries. Legs spread. Shirt open. Mouth smiling, fangs peeking. Hands not on you.

Not yet.

You undress like you're unwrapping something forbidden. And his eyes don’t leave your chest. Not even once.

"There," he murmurs when your top hits the floor, voice like silk over blade. "It stutters when you know where I'm going to bite. Do you want it tonight?"

You nod, breathless.

"Words, darling."

"...yes. Please."

It doesn't take long, really it doesn't. Because one second you were putting on a show for him, stripping, peeling layer by later until you were naked and suddenly, you were now laid down on the bed with Chan knelt between your thighs, breathing against your cunt without touching.

With only one single kiss, not touching. Not yet.

"So warm here. You've been aching for me all night, haven't you? Dripping for me. Thinking about how it'll feel when I bite your chest and fuck you until your name melts off your tongue?"

You whimper, nod, hips twitching—but his hands grip your thighs down firm and leans forward, tongue finally moving—not inside you—no, he flicks along your folds. One stroke. One taste. Then stops.

"Mm. You're going to wait for me to bite. I'll have to make you cum with my mouth first."

He eats you out slowly. Sinfully. Like a king savouring dessert before the main course. Fingers spreading you, tongue teasing, lips sucking your clit just barely enough to make your stomach tense. Then he stops. Over and over. Until you're crying, hips grinding, begging.

"Please—Chan, please—fuck—just let me—"

"Let you what?" he says, smiling against your pussy. "Bleed? Break? Cum?"

"Yes—fuck, yes—all of it."

He hums against your cunt like you gave him a goddamn prayer.

"All of it, huh?" He drags his tongue up slowly, catching your clit just to hear the gasp he wrings from your throat. "Then keep those thighs open. Let me earn it."

And he does.

His mouth descends like a curse and a promise, this time not stopping. He licks like he’s reading scripture off your skin. Like he’s memorizing the shape of your moans. Two fingers press in, curling perfectly, while his tongue circles your clit with calculated cruelty. He’s not being sweet—he’s being precise. Every flick, every suck, every curl of his fingers is designed to make your legs tremble and your mind splinter.

“There it is,” he growls into you when your hips start bucking. “So fucking wet, baby. You gonna cum like this? Before I even bite?”

You try to answer. You really do. But it’s already happening. Your stomach tightens, thighs trembling, mouth open on a silent scream as your orgasm crashes down—hot, humiliating, perfect.

He doesn’t stop.

Licks through your orgasm, dragging it out. Groaning low, fingers still thrusting, until you’re gasping, writhing, overstimulated and dripping. Then—finally—he pulls back. Just enough to lift his head.

His mouth is wet. His chin shines with your slick. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are blown wide, black with hunger. “Now you’re ready,” he says, voice darker, lower. “Now you’ll taste right.”

He climbs up your body slowly, kneeing your thighs further apart as he goes. One hand cages your throat—not tight, just present—and the other cups your breast, thumb rubbing lazy circles around your nipple.

And then he leans in. Presses his lips right over your heart. The bite is sudden. Deep.

Your blood floods his mouth, and he moans—moans—like it’s better than sex, like it’s what he’s been starving for. His hips grind against yours as he drinks, hard cock pressing against your folds like a promise. You’re shaking beneath him—your orgasm still echoing, your body pulsing, blood pouring into his mouth like a gift only he deserves.

And then—just when you start to go dizzy—he pulls back. Fangs red. Lips stained. Chest heaving.

“Still with me?” His voice is rough, wrecked with restraint. “Because I’m not done.”

You nod—but barely. Your whole body is trembling, and your vision is hazy, floating from the orgasm and the blood loss and the fact that he bit your fucking heart like it was a fruit he’s waited centuries to taste.

And he’s still fully dressed. Shirt unbuttoned, dark slacks hugging his thighs, belt still on. You’re naked and wrecked and soaked, but he’s untouched. Pressed against you, blood-slick mouth and cock hard against your pussy—but untouched. “Look at me,” he whispers, dragging his fingers down your side, over the bite mark, over your trembling hips. “Look at me while I feed you something else.”

And then he leans back.

Slowly. Casually.

Undoing his belt with one hand, unzipping his pants like he's got all the time in the world. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them down just enough to free himself—his cock thick, flushed dark red, leaking at the tip, veins mapped like sin. You swear it twitches when he sees your thighs shake.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, wrapping one hand around the base and giving himself a lazy pump. “Open. Dripping. Ruined. And all for me.”

He strokes himself slow, torturing, his fist sliding up over the head and back down, slicking it with precum while his other hand presses down on your lower belly, keeping you there.

“You feel that?” he asks, dragging the head of his cock through your folds. “That’s mine now. This heat. This slick little cunt. Your blood’s still warm inside me and now I’m going to fuck it back into you.”

You sob. Actually sob. Because even just the way he slides against your folds—up and down, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance—it’s too much.

“Please, Chan,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “I want you inside—I want to feel it—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He lines himself up. Presses the head in just a little. Just enough to make you gasp. “You’ll take it. Every inch. Slow.”

And he means it.

He pushes in inch by devastating inch, watching your face the entire time—watching your mouth fall open, your eyes flutter, your back arch. You feel every ridge, every vein, the stretch of him parting you slowly like he’s carving space for himself where no one else belongs.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice breaking. “So fucking tight.” Another inch. Another. “God, you’re squeezing me like you missed me.”

You cry out. Not from pain. From pleasure. From the overwhelming fullness, from the feel of him dragging along your soaked, overstimulated walls.

He pauses halfway in. Just pauses—hips pressed flush, cock twitching inside you, breath hot against your cheek.

“You want more?” he asks, fangs still out. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want me to fill you.”

“Please,” you gasp, tears spilling, voice trembling. “I need it—I need you inside—all of you—fuck, Chan, please.”

His hips snap forward. You scream. He bottoms out with one deep thrust, cock buried to the hilt, and the stretch burns so good.

“There,” he grits, grinding slow, deep, merciless. “That’s what I wanted. That fucking clench. That pretty little scream.” He stays buried in you for a moment—deep—just breathing, letting your walls flutter and your cunt adjust to the full stretch of him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, trying to lock him in, but he just smirks.

And then he starts.

Slow. Precise. The first few thrusts feel like worship—or punishment—dragging out so achingly slow that your body clenches tighter, trying to chase what he won’t give you. His hips roll, grinding into you, the thick weight of him pressing against every oversensitive inch of your soaked, blood-drunk cunt.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he groans, head dropping to your throat as he sets a slow, grinding rhythm. “So fucking warm. So tight. You gonna cry for me again, sweetheart?”

You already are. You’re gasping, eyes glassy, body shaking as he rocks into you with that slow, devastating rhythm. One of his hands cradles your face, the other beside your head, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And then—he leans in. Mouth dragging across your skin. Kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, your throat. Peppering kisses like you’re sacred. His fangs scrape lightly down your neck and you twitch underneath him.

“You like that?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “The fangs. The pressure. You want me to bite again, don’t you?”

Your breath stutters. He knows. Of course he knows.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, thrusting deeper. “Not until you cum on my cock. Not until I’m so deep you forget how to speak.”

He picks up the pace now—still controlled, but faster. Harder. The sound of skin slapping, of your soaked cunt swallowing him in, fills the room along with your moans. Your nails drag down his back. Your hips rise to meet his.

“That’s it. Take it, baby. Take all of me. That greedy little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes—made for you, only you—”

He kisses you. Hard. Bruising. Tongue sliding past your lips like he owns your mouth too. And when he pulls back, his eyes are pitch black, fangs still bared, lips red from your blood.

“Say it again.”

“Made for you,” you cry. “Yours. Only yours.”

“Good fucking girl.”

His pace snaps harder now—deep, perfect strokes—one hand gripping your thigh, the other pressed firm against your throat. His body curves over yours, keeping you pinned while he fucks you like he’s staking a claim inside your cunt.

Your legs tighten around him. Your belly coils. You feel your orgasm building—hot and sharp and dizzying.

“You gonna cum again?” he pants, rutting harder now. “Gonna let me feel it? Let me feel that pretty little pussy milk me while I drink from your heart again?”

You sob. You nod. You beg.

“Please, please—bite me—fuck, Chan—please—”

And that’s all it takes. He thrusts deep, one last time, grinding hard against your cervix, and then bites—again—right over your heart.

You cum instantly. Your walls clench so hard around his cock it triggers his own orgasm—thick, hot, flooding you as he groans into your skin, drinking and thrusting and owning you. When he finally pulls back, he’s panting, licking the wound tenderly. Your body’s trembling—soaked, stuffed, claimed—and he just looks down at you like you’re a masterpiece.

Chan leans down, kissing your lips so softly now. "You're mine sweetheart. Bloody, body, soul."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𓆪 LEE KNOW // Abnormal Vampire Sadist in silk. Devours screams. Fuck-first, feed-later type.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner thigh — where you're softest, where you beg hardest.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Slow. Pain-laced. Erotic. ‣ Often feeds while fucking from behind. ‣ Fingerplay first—he has to feel you fall apart before the bite.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Shaking legs. Sore hips. Oversensitive clit. ‣ Mind-fracture from orgasm + blood loss combination. ‣ Known to cause dehydration, bruising, and uncontrollable sobbing. ‣ Marked behavioral changes: submission, clinginess, obsession.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasm coincides with bite. Scream = trigger. ‣ Thigh bites may cause blackout + limp for 2–3 days. ‣ Post-bite euphoria. Known to whisper “again” while you’re still twitching. ‣ Irreversible addiction risk. Do not engage without safe word.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 002 𓆪

“You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to. Understand?”

His voice is silk-coated steel—low and lethal. You’re on your back, naked, legs spread wide on the silk sheets, with Lee Know fully clothed beside you. Not even undressing. Just watching. Eyes dragging over your soaked cunt like it’s something he owns. Like it exists to be ruined.

You nod, desperate.

“Use your words.” His eyes narrow, lips curling with warning. “If you want my fingers inside you, you’d better earn them.”

“Yes. I understand,” you breathe. “Please—Minho, I need it—”

He hums, finally moving. One hand strokes up your thigh, so gentle it makes you shiver. “So polite,” he murmurs. “And already dripping. All this for me?”

Two fingers press between your folds, parting you slowly. You moan. He doesn’t move fast—he just teases. Up and down, collecting slick. Spreading it messily across your clit before tapping it, sharp and precise.

You jerk. He laughs softly.

“No cumming, sweetheart,” he reminds you, before pushing a finger in.

You moan, clenching instantly. He’s slow at first, curling upward to find that spot, rubbing it deliberately. Then a second finger. Scissoring, stretching. His thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit, but never enough. Never fast.

And when you start to tighten around him, about to tip over—he pulls out.

You scream. He smiles.

“Again,” he says, and starts over. Fingers, curl, rub, drag—stop. Over. And over. By the fourth time, your body’s twitching. Your thighs shake. Your hands are fisting the sheets. “Minho—fuck, please—I’m going to lose it—”

“Good.” He leans over, mouth brushing your ear. “Then maybe you’ll behave.”

He grabs your hips, flips you over in one smooth motion—onto your knees, chest to the sheets. One hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your spine into a perfect arch. The other? Slipping down to play with your pussy again.

“You’re so wet baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers back through your folds. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You sob into the sheets. Then you feel it—his tongue. On your inner thigh. Not your pussy. Not yet. Just slow, deliberate licks on the sensitive skin right near your pulse point.

You freeze.

“Oh, did you think I’d forgotten about the bite?” he purrs.

He kisses the skin first. Then bites. His fangs sink in with a sharp, hot pain that melts instantly into pure fucking ecstasy. Your vision goes white. Your arms give out. You cry out, body trembling as blood leaves you in slow, sensual pulses.

And the second his mouth pulls back—

He’s undoing his pants.

You hear the belt unbuckle. The zipper lower. Then feel it—his cock, thick and flushed, dragging through your soaked folds. “You want this?” he asks, voice darker now. “Want to be fucked while your thighs are still bleeding?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—please—”

He slides in.

No warning. No mercy. One smooth, brutal thrust that knocks the air out of you. His hips slam into your ass, cock buried to the hilt, and he groans—deep and guttural—like he just found heaven inside your cunt. “Fuck,” he pants, grabbing your hips with bruising force. “So tight. Still twitching from that bite?”

He doesn’t wait.

He starts moving. Deep, hard thrusts that punch cries from your throat. Your back arches, cheek pressed to the sheets as he fucks you in a perfect rhythm—every stroke hitting exactly where you need him.

And he does not stop.

“Cry for me,” he growls, slapping your ass. “Scream. Let them hear how good I fuck what’s mine.”

You scream. You cry. You babble his name like a prayer.

“That’s right,” he hisses, hips snapping faster. “Fucking perfect.”

You’re gone. Broken. Bleeding. Full. And when your orgasm is close, when you're just about to cum—he doesn’t stop you. “Let go,” he pants. “Give it to me. I want to feel this cunt strangle my cock.”

You do. You collapse, sobbing, shaking, cumming so hard your thighs go limp. But he doesn’t stop.

Minho groans through his teeth and keeps thrusting—fucking you through your orgasm like he’s chasing something deeper. His grip bruises your hips, cock dragging through your soaked, fluttering walls, harder now, rougher.

“You sound so pretty when you break,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “I can feel it. Every pulse. Every squeeze. You're milking my cock like you want me to stay inside forever.”

You whimper, twitching under him, nerves fried, cunt still clenching in aftershocks. Your body is shaking—numb, overstimulated—but he fucks you through it, like you owe him every second.

“I’m close,” he growls, burying himself deep. “Gonna fill you up—fuck, just like this—”

A sharp snap of his hips, one final grind—and then he spills into you with a broken sound, teeth bared, fangs glinting. His cum is hot, thick, flooding your sore cunt as he presses as deep as he can, breathing hard against your spine.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

The second his cock slips free—wet and dripping with both of you—he’s flipping you over again. Your body’s limp, arms trembling, blood drying sticky on your thigh. You can barely focus. Barely breathe.

But you feel him. The press of his mouth. The heat of his breath.

“Still bleeding here,” he murmurs, fingers parting your thigh. “And you’re still so warm.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he bites again.

Same thigh. New wound.

You scream—not from pain, but from the crash of sensation. The moment his fangs sink in, your body floods with another unbearable wave. You’re twitching, crying, clenching around nothing—your cunt soaked, still dripping his cum—while he drinks, slow and deep.

Every pull of his mouth makes your stomach tighten. Your hands claw at the sheets. You’re delirious—gone—his mouth on your thigh, blood leaving in perfect rhythm with the mess between your legs.

He moans softly against your skin. Then he pulls back. Lips stained. Fangs gleaming. Blood running down your thigh like a love letter written in ruin.

He crawls over your body, eyes dark and hungry still. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, licking the blood from his lips. “But I’ll let you rest…”

One hand strokes your cheek, surprisingly soft.

“For now.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑 𓆪 SEO CHANGBIN // Normal Vampire Made of muscle, menace, and moans..

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Below the ribs or just above the hipbone

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Possessive. Worshipful. ‣ He growls when he drinks, like it's carnal. ‣ Usually feeds during sex. Leaves deep bruises around the wound from how hard he grips.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Breathless moaning. ‣ Clawing, overstimulated orgasms. ‣ Emotional grounding. Heightened intimacy. ‣ High likelihood of imprinting if bitten more than once.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Feral rut-level fucking. ‣ Bruised hips, shaky legs, blood-drunk sobs. ‣ Bite leaves a phantom heat that spreads like wildfire. ‣ Will absolutely carry you to a bath after and tell you you did so well.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 003 𓆪

You were teasing him. You didn’t mean to—but you were.

The corset was tight. The skirt was short. Your lipstick matched the red of your bite mark from two nights ago. You were only supposed to drop off the file he needed but you knew what the outfit would do to him. What it always did.

And the moment he looked up from his desk and saw you?

All bets were off.

He’s already panting when he slams the door shut behind you. One heartbeat later, you're pinned to the wall—hard. His broad chest flush against your back, his breath already ragged and hot against your ear.

You hear the low, animalistic growl deep in his chest before you feel it—rumbling through you like a warning.

Or a promise.

Because you’re standing there in his office after midnight, wearing nothing but a black lace corset that cups your breasts high, a tiny pleated skirt that barely covers your ass, and delicate panties—thin, sheer, soaked. Stockings, too. Garter belt. Lip gloss still shimmering.

You knew what you were doing.

And so does he.

“Take that shit off,” he growls, voice already thick with bloodlust and need.

You turn—barely—and meet his eyes. They’re black. Fully fucking black.

And you’re soaked.

“Changbin—” you whisper, breath hitching, thighs pressing together. It’s not a protest. It’s a plea.

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ask. One sharp tug and your corset jerks loose at the back—ripped. Another growl, and your panties are shredded in his hands, lace in tatters. The air hits your bare skin and you whimper.

“You fucking tease,” he snarls, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Walking in here dressed like this? Like a fucking offering?”

You squeak as he grabs you under the thighs and lifts—one arm. Just one arm and you're airborne, slammed back against the wall like you weigh nothing to him.

Because to him? You’re not fragile. You’re his.

His mouth crashes into yours—hot, brutal, claiming. His tongue is deep before you can breathe. Fangs brush your lower lip and nick the skin just enough for blood to bloom, sweet and fresh, and he moans against your mouth.

“You wore this for me?” he growls between kisses. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were trying to get ruined.”

You nod frantically, breathless. “Please—need it—need you—”

Then he drops. To his knees. Fast. Like gravity yanked him straight down. He’s still fully dressed in black slacks, fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, mouth already parted. And you? You’re bare now—corset loosened, panties gone, skirt hiked up around your waist, legs trembling over his shoulders.

Your back hits the cold wall. Your pussy is right at his eye level. And he looks up at you like he’s about to worship you.

Or destroy you.

“Fucking look at you,” he growls, dragging his thumbs up your inner thighs to spread you wider. “You're soaked. All this for me?”

You can’t speak. You nod. His smirk turns feral. “Good.”

He doesn't waist a second, Changbin devours you.

No teasing. No buildup. His tongue dives in like he’s starving—wide and wet, licking through your folds with a brutal, messy hunger that makes you cry out on impact.

“F-fuck—Changbin—”

He groans. Moans into your pussy like it’s his favorite meal, nose buried, chin soaked, lips dragging up your slit again and again until they’re flushed and swollen with your slick. His tongue curls up to your clit—flicks, circles, sucks. Sloppy and relentless.

Then?

He starts making out with it.

No joke. Full mouth. Open, hot, filthy kisses against your cunt—like he’s Frenching your pussy with every ounce of his desperate need. Tongue moving deep inside, then sliding up to wrap around your clit, sucking hard, then soft, then hard again. Over and over.

Your legs are shaking on his shoulders.

He drags one arm around your ass, pressing you closer to his mouth, while his free hand slides two thick fingers inside—curling, fucking, spreading your walls until you're gasping like you’re being split open.

He’s growling into your cunt, fingers pounding, tongue flicking your clit like he’s trying to drag the orgasm out of you with brute force.

“Come on,” he pants between slurps. “Give it to me. Cum on my tongue, baby—now—”

Your scream tears through the room. It breaks you. Your orgasm hits like a punch to the gut—raw, loud, endless. Your whole body locks. Your thighs clamp around his head. Your vision goes black for a second.

And he fucking loves it.

Keeps sucking through it. Fingers still thrusting. His mouth sealing over your clit again as if your climax is what he’s been waiting for all day.

Only when you’re gasping, limp, twitching—only then does he finally rise.

And fuck, he looks good.

Mouth soaked. Chin gleaming. Eyes still black. Fangs bared.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are moving—fast. Belt undone with a sharp snap, pants shoved down, briefs yanked below his thighs. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Harder than sin.

You don’t even get a chance. Because suddenly—he lifts you. Again. Effortlessly. Strong arms under your thighs, back slammed against the wall. And this time, he doesn’t wait.

He slams into you.

One thrust—brutal, perfect—and he’s fully inside. Stretching you open. Your head rolls back, mouth open in a soundless scream as your cunt grips him like a vice.

“Fuck—yes,” he snarls against your throat. “That’s it—tight little pussy—knew you could take it.”

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you into the wall. Rough. Desperate. Fast and deep and relentless. The slap of skin on skin echoes, your moans ricochet off the walls, and his name is the only thing you remember how to say.

“Changbin—Changbin—oh fuck—”

He groans against your skin. “You’re mine.”

And then?

He bites. Hard.

Right into your neck—fangs sinking deep, blood spilling into his mouth like wine from a sacred chalice. You scream, thighs trembling, orgasm threatening again just from the pain, the pressure, the possessive violence of it.

But he’s not done.

He licks the bite. Bites again—your shoulder this time. Then your collarbone. Then your neck again.

Everywhere.

Like he needs you in his mouth, over and over, just to stay grounded. Like drinking you is the only thing keeping him sane. His cock is ruthless inside you—dragging through your soaked walls, pounding harder each time you clench around him.

Your head spins.

He’s drunk on you. Absolutely gone.

“Fucking addictive,” he snarls. “Gonna mark you everywhere. Fill you up. Drain you dry. Fuck—this pussy’s perfect—squeezing me like it wants to bleed.”

Your hands claw at his back. Your nails dig into his shoulders. He loves it. Groans from deep in his chest. Slams into you even harder.

“Take it,” he growls. “Fucking take it. All of it. Don’t you dare stop squeezing me—make me cum, baby.”

You do.

Your orgasm hits again, body seizing, cunt fluttering around his cock like it’s made to wring him dry—and he loses it.

With a guttural snarl, he slams in deep—hips grinding, cock twitching as he spills inside you in heavy, scorching pulses.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t move.

Just stays there—cock buried, teeth still scraping your neck, hands fisting in your hair and thigh like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He pants. Shudders. Then licks your wounds. Gently. Worshipfully.

“Mine,” he whispers, pressing kisses to every bite mark. “Fucking mine. And I’m never letting go.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 𓆪 HWANG HYUNJIN // Abnormal Vampire Beauty made ruin. Moans like a prayer. Kisses like a curse.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Pulse points — wrists, neck, inner thighs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Hypnotic. Addictive. Laced in poetry and pain. ‣ Always bites during orgasm. Sometimes mid-cry. ‣ Tongue traces first. Fangs follow like a kiss you asked for in a dream.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Euphoria-induced sobbing. Clutching, clawing, surrendering. ‣ Heart palpitations, glossy eyes, speech loss ‣ Often left with multiple bite marks in one session—each placed like a secret

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Known to say “You’re mine” while you’re still moaning. ‣ Multiple orgasms expected. Blood + sex high overlap. ‣ Post-bite daze may last hours. Often found still shaking in his arms. ‣ Extreme bond-forming. Danger of becoming his favorite. And never leaving.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 004 𓆪

You feel him before you see him.

That overwhelming stillness, the kind that drowns out thought. Your breath catches—and then there he is, walking in like a vision, black silk shirt half-buttoned, pale chest glistening, golden hair slightly damp like he’s just stepped out of a dream.

Hyunjin doesn't speak at first. He just walks toward you. Barefoot. Soft steps. Eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that exists.

And then?

“You wore my favorite,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing the strap of your lace slip. “Ivory. Like fresh canvas.”

His lips ghost over your collarbone. Not a kiss. Not yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “all night. What color you’ll bleed for me. What sound you’ll make when I make you fall apart.”

You tremble.

He lifts your chin gently, eyes gleaming obsidian. “Lie back, baby. Let me paint.”

You obey, shivering as you settle onto the bed—bare skin against cool silk, thighs pressed together from sheer need. He doesn’t make you wait long. Just climbs over you slowly, like you’re delicate, precious, sacred.

And then his mouth is on your wrist. Kissing. Worshipping.

“I’ll start here,” he breathes. “Where your pulse is softest.”

The bite is slow. Precise. A sharp flash of heat as his fangs pierce your skin, followed by dizzying pleasure—almost like he’s sipping your soul. He groans, low and ruined, as your blood coats his tongue.

“Mmm… divine,” he whispers against your wrist, pulling back only to let the droplets smear along his lips. “But I want more.”

His hands trail down. One over your breast, teasing your nipple, the other slipping between your thighs.

“You’re soaked,” he hums, licking the blood off his fingers. “Did you get this wet just from the bite?”

You nod. He smiles like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Then—he spreads you.

Kisses down your body, trailing open-mouthed devotion from your chest to your stomach, thighs, then—

“Oh, fuck—Hyunjin—”

He groans as he reaches your cunt, breathing deep. “So pretty,” he murmurs, “and all mine.” Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss over your clit. Soft. Like the place between your legs is a cathedral and he's repenting with every breath.

His lips brush your folds. Once. Twice. Then his tongue flattens against your clit, slow and wide, dragging up until your hips twitch off the bed.

“Sweet,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “So fucking sweet—like nectar, like stars, like sin.”

You moan.

He moans louder.

Because Hyunjin isn’t just eating you out. He’s savoring. Every lick is long and deliberate, every press of his tongue a whispered poem. He swirls around your clit—soft at first, then pointed—then sucks it into his mouth with such aching, focused gentleness you cry out without warning.

“Hyunjin—”

He groans at the sound of his name. The vibration floods through your cunt.

“Say it again,” he whispers against you, then kisses your clit again like it’s your mouth. “Please. Sing for me.”

“Hyunjin—fuck—please—”

You can’t help it. You’re squirming, writhing, lost beneath him. Your thighs tremble around his head but he doesn’t let go. One arm wraps behind your waist, anchoring you to his mouth like he can’t stand the idea of you pulling away.

His tongue starts to move faster—up, down, circle, suck—messy, wet, worshipful.

Slurping sounds fill the air. His own moans grow desperate. He drags you closer, face buried deep, nose pressed against your clit, tongue flicking mercilessly now. Like he’s not kissing anymore—he’s feasting.

You sob.

You’re panting his name like a spell now. Your back arches. Your thighs clamp.

His fingers dig into your skin. His tongue curls up and in. Every noise you make feeds him. Fuels him. Until he’s drunk on it. High on it.

High on you.

When you cum, it’s violent. Like drowning in silk. You clench around nothing, but feel everything. Your body locks. Your mind breaks. Your mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

And Hyunjin just groans. Like your orgasm was inevitable. A masterpiece finished.

He licks you through it. Sucks gently on your clit like he’s coaxing the last bits of your soul out through your cunt. Then another kiss. And another. Until he finally slows, breath ragged, mouth glossy with you.

His eyes rise to meet yours. Black. Dilated. Reverent.

Your breathing’s still erratic. Limbs heavy. The aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you in soft, involuntary flinches. And Hyunjin just watches. Licks his lips, eyes locked on the trembling between your thighs like it’s the final frame of a painting he’s not done signing.

Then? He shifts.

You barely register it until his mouth is on your inner thigh.

Not rushed. Not greedy. Just—gentle. Open-mouthed kisses along the softest part of you. His fangs slide out.

You feel the sharp brush of them ghost over your skin. He drags them softly, so softly, up the inside of your thigh, until your hips twitch from the sheer anticipation.

Then—

The bite.

It’s deep. Precise. His fangs sink into the flesh of your inner thigh like they were made for this—like your body was crafted just for his teeth. The sting is immediate, yes, but it blooms so quickly into pleasure that your head falls back, lips parted in a choked gasp.

Hyunjin groans the moment your blood hits his tongue.

His hands grip your thighs tighter, anchoring you as he drinks. Slow at first. Then deeper. His throat works in soft, rhythmic swallows. You can hear it. The slick sound of him feeding.

And all the while—he moans.

Like he’s tasting divinity. You try to move. He growls. “Stay still.” he breathes against your wound.

He licks the blood as it trails, mouth sticky and stained. Then another kiss. Another bite. This time, just a little higher—closer to where he just worshipped you with his tongue.

You gasp. The pleasure-pain bursts behind your eyes.

“Hyunjin—please—”

He hums your name into your skin. Wipes his mouth on your thigh like a signature. Then finally climbs up your body, hovering above your face. Eyes on your perfect pillowy lips, but he doesn't kiss immediately. He just hovers. Lets you see the blood on his lips—your blood—before whispering: “You’re mine, now. I’ll paint you in bruises and bites."

Then he kisses you.

Tongue deep. Copper-sweet. Blood-warm and you melt. Melt like puddle in his arms. His arms, exactly where you belong.

𓆩 𝐓𝐇���� 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𓆪 HAN JISUNG // Normal Vampire Chaos incarnate. Bites first, thinks later. Addicted to your blood and your moans—equally.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Side of the neck ‣ Also: your chest, your fingers, your thighs—he’s not picky. Just rabid.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Chaotic, breathless, unrestrained. ‣ Often bites mid-fuck or right after you cum. ‣ Will feed and finger you at the same time, panting into your blood. ‣ Tastes you like he’s making out with your pulse.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Overstimulation. Dizziness. Bite-high. ‣ Orgasms feel drugged—like you're floating underwater. ‣ Can trigger full-body shivers, sobbing, giggles, and collapsing. ‣ Irregular heartbeat post-bite. Known to laugh while you cry.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Bite syncs with his orgasm. ‣ Feeds multiple times in one session—don’t expect to walk. ‣ Cums from your taste. Known to say “I need you again” before he’s even pulled out. ‣ Proceed with caution: addiction is mutual.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 005 𓆪

Han Jisung is already naked.

He wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to wait. But the second you walked into his apartment—short skirt, bare thighs, lipgloss still wet—he lost his fucking mind. Clothes gone. Fangs out. The kind of wide, dangerous grin that promised disaster and begged for it, too.

“You’re gonna ride me, yeah?” he pants, back hitting the bed with a thud. “Wanna see your tits bounce while I bite you.”

You swallow. Nod.

“No, no—c’mon,” he grins, already breathless. “Say it. Say you’re gonna ride me like you mean it.”

“I’m gonna ride you, Ji,” you whisper, crawling over him. “So fucking hard.”

“Fuck yes—” His head drops back, eyes fluttering. “My girl.”

You straddle him, feeling his cock hot and thick between your folds. He’s already leaking, already twitching beneath you. Your slick coats him in seconds. But he doesn’t thrust—no, he waits. Lets you drag your hips up and down until you’re both dizzy with it.

And then—you sink down.

“FUCK—” he cries, hands flying to your hips, gripping so tight you’ll bruise. “Shit—so warm—so tight—don’t move—fuck, baby, let me feel you like this—”

But you move anyway.

Start slow. Grinding your hips in circles, milking moans from his throat. He looks wrecked—sweaty, flushed, eyes half-lidded and glowing red. One hand sneaks up to grope your tits. The other stays on your hip, flexing with every grind.

When you start bouncing? He chokes.

“God—fuck—ride me—ride me, baby, please—”

You do.

Faster. Harder. Until your thighs burn and your pussy tightens with each drop. His mouth is everywhere—licking your collarbone, mouthing at your nipples, biting into your neck without warning.

He drinks. Moans into the wound. Licks the blood like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

You scream.

Not from pain—from pleasure so sharp it cuts. He pulls back, blood smeared on his lips, gasping like you just fucked the soul out of him. “You taste like heaven,” he whispers. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum—baby, cum with me, ride me until we break—”

You do. Together.

A shared orgasm that hits like a freight train. Your cunt tightens around him in rhythmic spasms, and he holds you through it—groaning, babbling praise, licking blood from your skin while he cums so hard his whole body shudders beneath you.

But he’s not done.

Because your chest is rising and falling—vulnerable, flushed—and he leans up, presses one last kiss between your tits.

Then bites again.

And again.

And again.

Your body’s still trembling. Muscles twitching. Slick and cum sliding down your thighs where he’s still buried deep inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

But Jisung?

He’s laughing.

Low. Breathless. A little too unhinged to be safe.

“You’re still warm,” he pants, lapping at your collarbone like it’s glazed in sugar. “Still fucking clenching around me. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You try to answer. You really do. But your brain has melted. Your mouth just opens—gasping—and that’s when he bites again.

Right above your heart.

You scream. Loud and broken. His fangs sink into skin like it’s the only place he belongs—like he can claim you from the inside out. He drinks like you’re water and he’s been parched for centuries. Moans like your blood makes him high. His cock twitches inside you, still half-hard and swelling again.

“Fuck—” he breathes, pulling back, his lips coated crimson. “You’re sweeter here. I knew you would be.”

Then he tilts his head. Looks down.

Sees it.

His cum.

Dripping out of your pussy like melted candlewax. A creamy mess of lust and love and loss of control. “Oh my fucking god,” he groans, manic. “I made you drip like this?”

A pause, a sharp inhale.

“Addicted,” he whispers. “Completely fucking addicted. You don’t even know—baby, I need—”

He bites again. Your shoulder this time. Then the other side of your neck. Then the curve of your breast.

He kisses each one after, messy and frantic, tongue smearing blood and spit across your skin like a mad artist painting his masterpiece.

And then?

He flips you. Again.

Pins you down now, hands on either side of your head, his mouth dragging over your body like he can’t choose where to ruin you next. I want to fuck you again,” he confesses, breath shaking. “Want to stay inside forever. Want to drink until I forget my name.”

“You already did,” you whisper, hoarse.

He grins. Wide. Bloody.

“Good.”

And then he bites again. This time? Your mouth.

Kisses you so hard his fangs nick your lip. Blood trickles in. He licks it up like a shot of liquor, hands gripping your thighs, your ass, your tits—anywhere he can touch.

"I love you. Mine, mine, mine forever."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 𓆪 LEE FELIX // Abnormal Vampire Soft on the surface, deadly underneath. Sleeps in silk, fucks like a fever dream.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Over the heart or the curve of your breast

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Gentle at first. Almost shy. Kisses before teeth. ‣ Feeds while holding you close—rocking, murmuring sweet things into your skin. ‣ But when hunger takes over? He gets lost. Mouth drunk. Eyes glazed. Almost feral.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Full-body shivers. Skin hypersensitive. ‣ Overstimulation from prolonged oral + emotional collapse after the bite. ‣ Heightened affection post-bite—clinginess, sobbing, echo-pleasure. ‣ Bite mark often becomes an erogenous zone.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Dreamwalkers induce trance-like states in partners. Bite can cause mild hallucinations. ‣ Reader may experience floating sensation + blackout orgasms. ‣ Blood-sharing with Felix forms rapid bond. Extremely addictive. ‣ Warning: prolonged exposure may result in crying during aftercare. And begging for more.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 006 𓆪

The penthouse is quiet when you return.

Shoes off. Dress unzipped. Champagne still singing in your veins from the gala. Felix walks in behind you, shrugging off his velvet blazer, golden curls loose around his temples, skin glowing under soft amber lighting.

He looks too good—black silk shirt open at the chest, fangs glinting behind his smile, eyes already darker than they should be. Not hunger. Something else.

Devotion.

"You were perfect tonight," he murmurs, fingers ghosting your waist as he draws you toward the bathroom. “But I didn’t like sharing you.”

Your heartbeat stutters. “You weren’t exactly subtle either,” you whisper, recalling the way his hand had stayed glued to your lower back all evening, lips to your ear at every chance, voice dipped low with possessive undertones. Like you were his prize.

His worship.

His next meal.

Felix chuckles. “No. I wasn’t.”

The tub fills behind you—steaming, lavender-scented, full of white foam and rose petals. His idea, of course. He always did prefer indulgence after restraint.

He helps you in like you’re made of porcelain. Your skin sinks into the warmth with a sigh. Felix climbs in after, settling behind you, legs spread so you’re seated snugly between them. Your back hits his bare chest, and already, you can feel it.

The thrum beneath his skin. The restraint snapping thread by thread.

“You wore that dress to kill me,” he murmurs, mouth against your neck. “Slit up to your hip. No bra. Lace so sheer I could see the curve of your nipples under every chandelier.”

You smile. “And?”

“And now I’m going to take my time with you.”

His hands cup your breasts from behind. Thumbs flicking your nipples. Bubbles cling to his wrists, his forearms. His lips drag up your neck. Soft. Featherlight.

Then sharp.

A kiss first—then a bite.

Fangs sink in, clean and deep, right beneath your jaw. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as the pain melts into pleasure. He drinks slow—just a few sips, just enough to make you squirm—and licks the wound clean with a reverent groan.

“So sweet tonight,” he whispers. “You taste like champagne and sin.”

You whimper.

His hands trail lower. One slips down between your thighs, parting you under the water, fingers pressing into your cunt with aching care. The other? Gliding over your thigh, then gripping it, spreading you wider for him.

He doesn’t tease.

Two fingers sink in—slick, hot, stretching you open as the water laps around you. His thumb finds your clit, circles slow and steady. The angle is perfect. Deep. Focused.

"You always take me so well,” he breathes into your skin. “Even when you’re trembling.”

You are. Shaking, helpless, your body already wrung too tight. The bite. The warmth. The way he touches you like he’s composing a symphony.

And then—he pulls you closer.

“Ride me,” he whispers. “Like you did the last time I fed on your heart.”

You whimper. Turn in his arms, straddling him with the water sloshing over the edge. His cock is already hard, flushed, pressed against your stomach as you rise onto your knees.

He watches you. Eyes half-lidded. Blood-drunk.

When you sink down on him—slow, stretching around his thick length—you both moan. Your nails dig into his shoulders. His hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself to reality.

“Fuck—baby—you feel like velvet,” he chokes out. “So wet. So fucking warm—”

You start to move.

The rhythm is gentle at first. Slippery skin, heavy breaths, the sound of water shifting with every roll of your hips. Felix bites your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower, tongue lapping blood before it cools, fangs sinking in again like he’s trying to mark every inch.

You're bleeding. You're riding. You're both coming undone.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Dripping for me. Bleeding for me. My perfect little canvas.”

Your orgasm builds like a tide—slow, inevitable. His cock hits all the right places, his hands guiding you faster, his mouth sealing over your throat for one final bite as he moans into your skin.

“Cum for me,” he pants. “Feed me while you fall apart.”

Your whole body tenses—like a wave crashing against fragile glass.

And then it shatters.

You break apart on him with a choked cry, thighs trembling, nails clawing down his back. Your orgasm ripples out in hot, helpless pulses, cunt fluttering around him, blood still seeping slowly from your bitten throat as you collapse forward into his arms.

Felix growls.

The sound vibrates through his chest, deep and guttural—feral with need. His mouth seals tighter around your neck, and he drinks as you shake through your climax. Every pull of his lips sends fresh aftershocks rolling through you. You're twitching, overstimulated, undone.

“That's it,” he whispers, lips stained, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “That’s my angel. Give me everything.”

He swallows every drop like he needs it to survive. Like your pleasure is the only thing that can keep him sane.

When he finally releases your throat, his tongue traces the wound—gentle now, reverent, like he’s kissing the holiest part of you. Blood paints his chin. His cock still buried inside you, twitching, heavy, throbbing.

Then—he lifts his head.

You see it in his face. The complete loss of control. His pupils blown wide, lips red, hair clinging to his temples in damp, golden waves. His hands clutch your waist again—and he thrusts up once, hard, a broken moan escaping his throat.

“Oh—fuck—” he gasps. “I’m gonna—”

You’re still pulsing around him. Still warm, wet, perfect.

He buries himself deeper, spilling into you with a low, desperate groan. His mouth finds yours mid-release, kissing you like he’s tasting eternity. Tongue slick with blood and love. You’re breathless, trembling, still locked together in the cooling water—and only then does he speak again. Softly. Against your lips.

“You’re divine.”

You smile weakly, forehead to his. “So are you.”

Felix brushes a petal from your shoulder. One last kiss to your jaw. One last whispered truth, low and sacred:

“I’d bleed for you too.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𓆪 KIM SEUNGMIN // Normal Vampire The gentleman with a scalpel smile. Clinical precision. Calculated hunger.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner arm — intimate, exposed, and close to your heart. ‣ Sometimes the chest or side of your ribs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Calm. Measured. Strategic. ‣ He plans his bites—timed, placed, controlled. ‣ Often feeds during emotional peaks—after soft sobs, laughter, confessions, or sex. ‣ Gentle on the surface, but watch closely: there’s a dangerous edge underneath.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heart rate spike followed by unusual stillness. ‣ Floating sensation. Hallucination-like euphoria. ‣ Skin hypersensitivity for hours after. ‣ Develops strong dependency on his praise and attention.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Low-risk externally—but internally, you’ll never forget the way he says your name. ‣ Prolonged feeding can induce dreamlike sedation or emotional bonding states. ‣ Known to leave almost invisible marks—but you feel them for days. ‣ Vulnerability spike: tendency to confess secrets or cry in his arms after.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 007 𓆪

You hadn’t spoken in over an hour.

Not since the fight.

Not since he said, “Maybe if you didn’t run every time we got too close, I wouldn’t have to wonder if you actually want this.”

You’d slammed the door to the bedroom. Now you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, staring at the wall like it’s going to offer answers. It doesn’t.

The air is tight. Tense. Like everything’s been coiled too long.

Then—you hear his footsteps.

And suddenly, he’s there.

Seungmin doesn’t speak. Doesn’t shout. He just walks over, grabs your jaw with cold fingers, and tilts your head up.

“You want to be left alone?” he asks quietly. “Or do you want me to make you feel something again?”

Your breath stutters. That look in his eyes—sharp, calculating, barely restrained—isn’t the usual teasing calm.

This is something else.

You whisper, “Make me.”

And just like that—he snaps.

You’re pushed back against the bed. His body cages yours, knees on either side of your hips, hands pinning your wrists above your head. You gasp, arching—but he doesn’t give you time to speak.

“I hate fighting with you,” he growls, voice low and lethal. “You know that?”

You nod, breathless.

“But you push me. You always push. And then you run, and I let you. But not tonight.”

His lips crash to yours—angry, desperate, hungry. You kiss back just as hard, teeth clashing, tongues twisting. Seungmin bites your lip—draws blood. Licks it up like you’re wine and he’s parched. “Take it off,” he demands, tugging at the shirt. You pull it over your head, baring yourself to him completely and his eyes darken.

His eyes scan your body like he owns it. Like he's earned it. Then—he lets go.

Just releases your wrists and leans back, chest heaving. You blink, confused, but he only settles onto the mattress, dark hair mussed. One arm folded behind his head. The other gestures lazily down his own body.

“Take your panties off.”

You hesitate.

He raises a brow. “Now.”

You obey.

Silently, you slide the soft lace down your thighs, aware of how his gaze never leaves your center. You think—maybe—he wants you to straddle his face. Let him taste the slick that’s already gathering between your legs.

But Seungmin has other plans.

“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Back to me.”

You do, breath catching.

“On your knees. Over my chest.”

And that’s when it hits you.

You’re not riding his mouth. He’s placing you above him, facing the length of his body, and when you obey—when your hands brace on the bed and your knees sink beside his ribs—he shifts both of you down.

So now he’s under you. And your soaked pussy is right above his mouth. But his cock? Hard. Heavy. Inches from your face.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he growls. “And keep it open while I ruin you.”

You barely have time to whimper before his hands are gripping your hips, dragging your pussy down to his mouth. His tongue licks one long stripe through your folds before his fangs sink into the plush of your thigh with no warning, no restraint.

You cry out.

But then—you moan.

Because his mouth is everywhere. Kissing. Biting. Tongue fucking you while blood still runs hot against his lips. He’s feeding and pleasuring, starving and devout all at once.

And you?

You finally do what he told you.

Shaky hands pulling down his grey sweatpants and his briefs, his cock springing out, hard, leaking, throbbing.

You lean forward. Wrap one hand around the base of his cock. The other balances on his thigh. And then—you sink your mouth over him, slow at first, tongue pressing to the underside of the thick, pulsing length that jerks the moment you moan around it.

He groans.

Deep in his throat. A growl of praise.

“Just like that,” he breathes against your cunt. “Take it all, baby. Feed me while I fuck your throat.”

You do.

Mouth stuffed full of his cock, your hips rocking over his face as he feasts between your thighs like you’re the cure to every craving. His tongue works in circles—then flicks. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading you wider, holding you still when your thighs start shaking.

You’re dripping. Gagging. Gasping for air.

And Seungmin? He never lets up. Every time your mouth slides down over his length, he rewards you with another harsh suck, another bite to your thigh, another moan against your clit that sends you reeling.

Until you’re both right there.

Teetering. Desperate. Drenched in sweat, saliva, and blood.

Then—his cock throbs. Your walls flutter. Your body clenches around nothing as the orgasm explodes from your spine, rolling over you like a wave of fire.

Your juices soak his mouth. He drinks. Groaning. Devouring. Never stopping.

Your body trembles through the high and just as you release his cock from your mouth, gasping, your hand wraps around his base again, stroking him once, twice before he finally cums. All over your chest. Your mouth which you made sure to keep open. Your tongue.

Seungmin is panting, eyes dark, lips red, blood dripping from his mouth like wine and he licks your inner thigh again. "Feel better now?" he asks hoarsely.

You collapse sideways onto the mattress, dizzy and dazed. "Fuck you," you whisper.

He smirks.

"You already did. But unless you want more, I'm happy to oblige~"

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓆪 YANG JEONGIN // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) Vampire The sweet boy with the sharpest bite. Addicted to affection. Dangerous when starved.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Shoulder blade, inner thigh & lower back

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Emotional. Impulsive. Clingy. ‣ Bites happen mid-kiss, mid-moan, mid-breakdown. ‣ Never feeds clean—always leaves marks. ‣ Mouthy. Sloppy. Overwhelmed. Often doesn’t stop until you pull him off.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heavy euphoria followed by crashing neediness. ‣ Breathing becomes erratic. Limbs tremble. ‣ Intense emotional projection—feels what you feel, tenfold. ‣ Causes your body to crave touch long after the bite ends.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Unpredictable: safest when loved, most lethal when rejected. ‣ High risk for overfeeding during sex due to overstimulation. ‣ Known to whimper while drinking. ‣ Will worship you for hours afterward like he’s trying to say sorry with every kiss.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 008 𓆪

You’re still wearing it.

That lingerie set—the one in soft wine-red lace, delicate enough to tear, pretty enough to drive him feral. It’s sheer over your chest, satin at the waist, and trimmed in ribbon. You’d worn it as a surprise. You didn’t expect him to unravel like this.

Jeongin stares at you from the mattress, already shirtless, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. He looks dazed. Hungry. Like he’s been trying not to lose control all night and now he’s at his limit.

“I’m not taking it off,” he says hoarsely, reaching for you. “It’s too perfect. Too hot. Just—ride me like that.”

Your breath catches.

You crawl into his lap slowly, knees bracketing his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands grip your thighs, sliding up the sheer lace with reverence and a tremble. Then his mouth is on you—kissing down your neck, biting gently at first, tongue soothing the sting. But that’s not what he really wants.

“I need it,” he whispers. “Please. Let me bite.”

You nod.

He doesn’t hesitate. Sinks his fangs into the swell of your breast just above the lace, groaning low as your blood hits his tongue. You moan at the feeling of the heat rush that floods your body. Your hips grind down on instinct. He grips you tighter, hips twitching beneath yours.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling back with blood smeared at the corner of his lips. “You taste so good.”

You rock against him again. He’s hard already, pressing against your center through thin layers. Your pace quickens as you straddle him, grinding down in search of friction, your moans growing louder with every pass.

And then—he thrusts up once, twice, desperately, through his boxers, trying to meet you. It’s messy. Uncontrolled.

“Take me out,” he pants. “I—I need—please—”

You reach between you, freeing him from his briefs. His cock is flushed, heavy, leaking against your hand. He bucks into your touch, then holds your hips steady while you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto him—inch by inch, lace still clinging to your skin.

His head drops back against the pillow with a moan so wrecked it doesn’t sound human. “You feel… fuck… you feel unreal.”

You start to move.

Slow at first—steady rolls of your hips, his hands roaming every inch of you he can reach. His fangs flash again as he watches you bounce, lace framing your curves, blood still drying on your chest.

“I can’t—can’t hold back,” he grits out. “Need to bite again—need to feel you everywhere.”

You nod, too lost in pleasure to form words.

This time, he bites your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your breast again through the fabric, enough to tear the lace slightly. Each time, his tongue follows, soothing the sting with a worshipful lick before he moans against your skin.

You’re shaking. Close. So close.

“Jeongin—”

“I know, baby," he growls—but this time, there’s a rasp in his throat. A dark edge. A thirst not just for you—but for what’s inside you. What feeds him.

Then—he snaps.

Jeongin bucks up into you with renewed force, rough and desperate, the rhythm turning messy and fast. One hand clutches your hip, guiding your motion, the other lands sharp against your ass—slap.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take it. Ride it. Don’t you dare stop.”

You try to answer, but your voice breaks. He’s deep, hard, relentless. The blood loss, the overstimulation, the lace chafing just so—it’s too much, and still not enough.

Then he sinks his fangs into you again.

Lower this time—just above your heart. A claim. A feeding. His moan is filthy against your skin as he drinks, hips slamming up with each pull from your vein. His lips seal to the bite like it’s sacred, tongue swiping the spill before it stains.

You feel yourself tipping, unraveling—body jerking, walls fluttering around him. He groans, hands digging into your ass, holding you in place as his thrusts become erratic.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, blood-slicked lips against your breast. “I could drink you dry. Fill you up. Fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop.”

You don’t. Your body moves on instinct—legs trembling, hands clutching at his chest, your moans dissolving into shattered gasps as you ride him harder, faster, deeper.

He fucks up into you like he’s chasing something primal—like he’s on the edge of breaking, of shifting into something unholy. His grip on your hips bruises. His jaw is clenched tight. He’s staring at you like you’re divinity draped in lingerie and blood.

“Fucking—cum,” he snaps, voice cracking. “Let me feel you.”

And then—you do.

It hits like a flood, your whole body locking around him, head thrown back as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, shaking, grinding down on him as your walls clench and flutter and milk him mercilessly.

Jeongin loses it.

He growls—a sound feral, needy—and slaps your ass again, rougher this time, then grabs your waist and slams up into you with sharp, punishing thrusts. No rhythm now. Just desperation. His cock drags along every swollen, overstimulated nerve inside you as he chases his own climax, jaw clenched, breath ragged.

“Fucking—tight—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Another slap. Another thrust. His fangs flash again like he’s tempted to bite one last time, but instead he buries his face in your chest, breathing you in like you’re oxygen. His fingers sink into your thighs, holding you down as he spills into you with a deep, guttural groan.

His entire body jerks.

Once. Twice.

Then stillness.

His grip softens—only a little. His face stays pressed against your skin, your blood still drying against his lips. His cock twitches inside you, aftershocks making your thighs tremble from where you’re still seated on him.

He finally breathes. Hoarse. Like he’d forgotten how.

“…mine,” he whispers. Like a prayer. Like a vow.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco

[gladiator-v]

PPT WMI AU One Shot: Sickly (WIP) PART 5

NOTE: That's not blood on Huggy's hands and arms! It's the coloring from Doey's dough! If yall have ever played with Play Dough long enough, it'll melt and stain your hands, so that's what I was going for here.

-

-

-

DogDay's yelling managed to get the attention of one of the groups of kids still outside playing. A few of them ran off to get Chris while the others ran over to the scene to see what was going on.

To their horror, they found that Doey had essentially begun to melt. There was still some semblance of a body left, but its form was barely visible due to dough slowly cascading down what could be seen.

Once Chris was successfully retrieved, he, along with Huggy, headed outside. Opon arrival to the scene, Chris is bombarded with panicked children, all wailing and running amuck in their distress. DogDay explains the situation the best he can over the shakiness of his voice. As scared as he is, he still offers to help in any way he can.

Together, he, Chris, and Huggy, along with the others who weren't too afraid to help, grab what pieces they can and try to mold them back into place. With enough effort, they succeed to a degree. They at least got him in good enough shape to move.

The three of them carry Doey back to the house. Luckily, Kissy had gotten the other kids to sleep before they arrived. Needless to say, she was in shock as well. Chris immediately tasked her with getting the kids that helped washed and put down for their naps as well. Most of them were still eager to help, but Chris was insistent on them not.

Chris had Huggy and DogDay help him get Doey to the spare room at the back of the house. They used to use it as a play room, but it's been turned into a sort of nook where anyone can go if they need to be alone for a while.

Chris gets the bed lined just in case his temperature spikes again. Huggy and DogDay then lay him down as gently as possible. Chris also instructs them to go get cleaned up as well. Before leaving the room himself, he cranks up the a/c in hopes it will help keep Doey cool. The room has its own separate unit, so the entire house won't have to freeze.

-

-

-

It's been a couple of hours now. The rain that the weatherman promised had finally come. Most of everyone is either still resting or in the playroom having snack time.

Huggy has been sitting on the couch in the main living area by himself. DogDay had been sitting with him up until he decided to get some sleep as well.

Inside the boys' shared headspace...

Everything had gone completely dark. The body had finally lost consciousness. No more muffled screams, no more frantic footsteps. Nothing. It was just them, scrambling around in a frenzy, trying to think of what to do.

Well, two of them were. Their illness seems to have attached itself to Jack, who currently isn't "conscious" either. Matthew and Kevin have been going back and forth with each other, arguing intensely about how to move forward. As if he hasn't made things bad enough, Matthew is already suggesting he handle things from here.

Kevin, rightfully so, is refusing to listen.

"All I'm saying is that they need all of us! We're meant to do this together, Kev. Obviously, that's not going to work right now... But- I just don't think you-"

"Think I'm what?? Stable? Is that it!? You don't think I'm capable of being anything other than "the bad guy"!?"

"Now you're just putting words in my mouth!" Matthew yells. "Listen, they're... *sigh*, they're mostly used to me, Kevin. After we wake up, who do they're going to-"

"They don't even know we exist, Matthew!! You're acting like it's sooo easy for them to tell which one of us is doing the talking!"

Kevin lets a pained chuckle escape him. "You don't trust me. That's what it is!" His voice cracks at the end of his sentence. The tears he's been fighting back fill his eyes, making them blurry.

"NO, it's NOT!!" Matthew blurts. Kevin turns from him, about to make his way back to the front.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (here) Part 6

I'm working on a ref for Chris so yall can put a face with his name!

[apollabarnes]

part nine

tommy's phone rings when they're approaching the first presbyterian helipad.

"really?" lucy calls over the headsets, exasperated.

tommy shrugs. he feels a little bad about it, but he only has four people set to be able to call through if he's flying; howie, melton, sal, and athena. it used to be — it will be five whenever sal and gina decide stella's old enough for a cell phone. their patient — currently unconscious, critical but mostly stable — won't care if he picks up.

"get rid of them before the handoff," lucy demands, "i'm going to need you."

"kinard," tommy says, picking up without looking at the display. he thumbs the headset to take it off the open channel. three out of the four calls are something he doesn't want broadcast across the radio. he's not actually sure why he's got melton on the list; tommy guesses he's just preparing for the day melton needs to him to break the law.

"i need a favour."

tommy laughs. one of these days they'd call when he was actually off duty. this would be so much easier with a private helicopter. "how official is this favour?" he knows he's not going to say no. he hasn't been able to say no to a favour for someone at the 118 since howie saved his life. part of him died in that strip mall. the rest of him got to live because of it. there's not enough favours in the world to repay that.

"not even close."

what else was new? if a little lawbreaking was going to get tommy to toe the line, he never would have gone out in a hurricane in the first place. "give me a few minutes."

"kinard! time to go! hang the hell up!"

"text me the location," tommy says quickly, disconnecting the call before pulling back on the throttle, hovering over the hospital. two minutes to unload, five to argue with lucy, and however long to get to where athena is. what's the punishment for going awol with a missing piece of municipal equipment worth a few million dollars?

"anyone ever tell you you've got a soft touch, donato?" tommy asks, throwing himself out of the helicopter the second the engine stops. he wrenches the back door open, taking the front of the stretcher from lucy and wheeling it out as lucy rattles off their patient's stats to the doctors.

"only when they want to get hit in the head," lucy tells him once everyone's cleared the roof. "i don't remember the last time you actually picked up a call when we were in the air."

that would be because tommy doesn't pick up calls in the air. it's a distraction. it's also why the list of people who can break through the do not disturb is so short. they're the people that, if they need something while tommy's flying, means part of his world is about to collapse.

"i need to leave you here. and i need you to not call the station for a ride for about an hour."

"well i'm definitely not doing that. who was on the phone?"

"athena grant."

"oh my god, she asked you for a favour? you're going to lose your job. i'm coming with."

"what? why?"

"i'm still mad about you not bringing me to the cruise ship. it's my turn for a medal."

"or you're getting fired along with me."

"either way, sounds fun. stop arguing, start flying."

"i'm reminding you of this the second that you start complaining in the unemployment line."

lucy rolls her eyes at him, clicking her headset over to harbor's channel. "melton, we're going to grab some food and refuel the bird. call through if it's urgent, otherwise we'll back in rotation in about an hour."

melton's confirmation crackles over the line and lucy nods firmly, looking over at tommy. "you weren't even going to do that, were you?" she asks rhetorically. "this is is why you almost got fired last year." she considers the helicopter before hoisting herself into the passenger seat.

tommy blinks at her. "you're being very blasé about this."

"hey, i worked with them too. maybe i like them enough to keep them out of trouble. chop chop, let's not waste the headstart i gave us."

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five // part six // part seven // part eight

[bunjywunjy]

BUNJY RECIPE: BERBERE POTATOS DELUXE (spicy)

before we get started, you are going to need two specialty things for this recipe: berbere spice powder and an oven-save saucepan, or dutch oven. berebere is a chili blend you can get online if you can't find it near you- I use this one!

ingredients:

2 shallots, cut into strings (I slice the bulb vertically along whatever plane leaves me with flattest halves, then thinly slice the halves. the slices will fall apart into strings on their own during cooking)

1 red bell pepper, diced

2ish pounds of thin-skinned potatoes sliced thinly (think yellow or red- I chop each potato into rough thirds and then slice the thirds vertically so there's a flat surface to keep it stable while I'm slicing)

5 garlic cloves, minced

1 can diced tomato with its liquid (I used fire-roasted)

1 1/2 tbsp berbere spice

3/4 cup water

salt to taste

pepper to taste

olive oil

first, preheat your oven to 400 F. heat your cooking vessel on the stovetop over medium heat until it comes up to temp, then add a glug of olive oil and then the shallots and red bell pepper. stir it around and let it cook until the shallots are totally broken apart into strings and are totally translucent, then add the garlic and stir around for another 30 seconds or so. Next, add the diced tomato and stir around to keep the garlic from burning, then add the water and berbere spice and mix well. (I put the water in the empty tomato can and swirl it around before adding it to get the last of the sauce in there) also add the salt and pepper. cook the mixture for maybe 10 minutes on medium heat until it thickens significantly, then turn the heat down to low. scoop out a cup or so of the mixture before moving to the next step. next, add the potatoes in maybe three batches, stirring well in between batches to separate the slices and coat them all with sauce on both sides. once all the potatoes are added, add back the cup of sauce you stole earlier on top of the mixture and spread it out evenly, making the potatoes into an even layer within the pan with a thin coating of sauce on top. before this next bit where you put the pan/cooking vessel/whatever in the oven, you can save yourself a future headache by using a wet rag or paper towel to gently wipe off any sauce that's spattered on the rim, down to about an inch or so above the mixture. this way those spatters don't burn to charcoal! once you've done that, cover with a lid or aluminum foil and put in the oven for one hour. at the end of the hour, take the cover off and then bake naked for another 10-15 minutes. and then it's done!

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / february 21: attack / word count: 641 cw: slight nsfw

The moment Sirius hears a stressed Regulus on the other end of the phone, he knows something is wrong. His usually cool and calm younger brother has almost given him a heart attack by asking him, in a tense and overwhelmed voice he has rarely heard before, to get to the hospital as soon as possible, along with the insistent sound of an ambulance siren. When he tries to get more details, he just tells him that he'll explain everything when he gets there and that everything's fine. Oh, and to bring Remus with him.

As he explains the situation to Moony, who has been looking at him expectantly throughout the phone conversation, worry creeps into his face. 

"Let's go now, I'll drive," is all Remus says as he gets up and grabs his keys.

As soon as they pull into the hospital's car park, Remus's phone rings with a message notification, which he pauses to read for a moment. The cackle of laughter he emits leaves Sirius completely baffled.

"What's going on?" Sirius tries to ask, but the taller one has trouble controlling his breathing in the middle of a fit of giggles. "Remus Lupin, my baby brother could be dying in there and you're laughing your ass off in here?"

"Trust me, he's not the one who's going to die!" he replies, when he manages to regain some composure.

"What do you mean?"

"My love, I need you to stay calm, okay?" the taller one asks, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I can assure you Regulus is fine, I promise, but I'm going to let him explain to you the reason we're here."

"He told you and not me?" Remus simply nods.

"Are our parents hospitalised?"

"I wish, but no."

After another failed attempt to get more information, they both meet Regulus in the waiting room.

"James Potter's family?" a nurse asks before Sirius can even ask what's going on. "He's stable now, you can come in and see him." 

James?

Still disoriented and once inside the hospital ward, Sirius can name four things he doesn't quite understand. The first is why James and Regulus (who seem to hate each other) are here together, the second is why everyone except Remus, who looks rather amused, is avoiding eye contact, the third is why his best friend is wearing a neck brace, and the fourth is why his younger brother, who knows nothing about soccer, seems to be wearing a rather familiar Arsenal jersey that barely covers the bruises on his neck. Wait, bruises?

"If someone doesn't explain to me what's going on in the next five seconds, I'm going to commit arson."

"I broke James' neck," says Regulus, while at the same time James exclaims, "I fell down the stairs. Remus laughs and Sirius finally understands what's going on.

"Enough! I see what's happening. Guys, I told you not to fight over me, you both have my affection eq—"

"I sat on his face, broke his neck and he passed out." Regulus interrupts.

The room falls silent.

"Why didn't you stop him, James?"

"Sirius..."

"It was an accident, right?" asks Sirius looking at them all, "Right, Prongs?"

"We've been together for four months."

"'You brotherfuck—"

And Sirius lunges at James attempting to throttle him.

And the thing is, he's happy for them, he really is, but he's angry that the two bastards made him believe all this time that they hated each other, so he had to keep making separate plans to prevent them from killing each other.

For all the weeks James has to wear the neck brace, Sirius avoids eye contact with him so he won't remember why he has to wear it. This proves to be difficult as his best friend in the world tells everyone about the reason as if it were some heroic feat.

[supernova1885a]

I love angst, make my fav characters suffer is basically a tradition.

So I have all this lore that I made up myself while playing based on confusing events and dialogues, so I decided to illustrate a little bit of what the transition from happiness = tragedy would be like in the relationship of these two. I don't know what the hell I saw in that spider but I love them and that's precisely why I'm going to make them suffer, you're welcome.

I MUST CLARIFY that everything I say in this post is not canon or is partially based on the canon of the game. Don't take this as something official, I just want to share a little of my interpretation of both the story and characters. Also that Shamura is a she/her to me, but I will refer to her as they/them in this post.

After Shamura found the others, they moved together to Silk Cradle and worked out what their new life would be from now on. Shamura made very strong bonds with they new family, but especially with Leshy and Narinder, although due to his insistence they spent more time with the latter.

They used to take him with them to their temple and show him the spider webs that decorated the place, as well as teach him to weave and other things. Being the eldest, they had to impart the learning of their siblings as well as help them assume their places as divinities. All with enormous love and affection that grew with the passage of time.

Years later, the five of them grew up and left Silk Cradle to begin to reign in their respective kingdoms. Because Narinder's kingdom was not earthly, he was the last to leave.

Shamura was the one who made and gave their siblings their robes, it was a last gift from them before not seeing them again for a long time. They could not hide their happiness, although along with it there was a slight feeling of sadness, but they knew well that they could not keep them with them for life and had to let them follow their paths.

Of course, there are times when with bad guidance the paths can go awry. Shamura loved their siblings, perhaps too much and that made them very permissive regarding certain actions that they did. Narinder was fed up with his position and decided to go further, breaking the laws of nature, Shamura had a bad feeling but when they realized it was too late. Narinder felt betrayed when they reproached him, because it was thanks to their knowledge that he had done what he did and now they was angry with him.

Maybe it was the tension of the moment that increased with each reprimand from they that caused him to attack them, maybe it was anger or he just didn't know how to control himself. From one moment to the next Shamura fell to the ground, a warm liquid began to stain their face, the screams of their siblings could be heard in the distance and a sharp pain began to overwhelm them. Fear, anger, sadness, pain, they had never felt so many emotions at once, they didn't know whether to cry or scream, whether to get up or stay there, until suddenly everything went completely dark.

Shamura was cared for by their siblings until they was stable, but the pain from their wound was not the only thing that began to bother them. With it came severe headaches, vertigo, dizziness, and memory loss. Despite all that and the harm their beloved brother had caused them, deep down in their damaged heart, they still loved him.

════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════════════════

I haven't worked on this beyond the main concept yet, but I wanted to share it with you guys instead of just leaving it to writing and my imagination! I'm thinking about making a few comics about it, I have a lot of ideas I want to put down here. Thanks for reading!

[searchingforgravity]

Outside sex with elvis

Aah, I love this idea! I hope you guys like this one ♥️

Word Count: 1916

Walking along the stables, there's a slight breeze in the air. It's been a while since you've been out here, just relaxing peacefully with the horses. You look toward the house, admiring its beauty. Elvis should be home soon, he said he was going to meet with the boys for lunch and talk about an upcoming project. He wanted you to come but you hung back, telling him you wanted some time to yourself.

You can't believe you ever got so lucky. To have someone look at you the way Elvis does. You weren't sure you would ever fall in love until the moment you met him. The very moment you spoke to him, you just knew you would love him for the rest of your life, even if he didn't love you. Thank God he did.

"Hey, mama," A soft southern voice calls from behind you before you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

You jump at the surprise of your husband's sudden presence, making him chuckle as he kisses your neck.

"I would say I'm sorry, but I walked around the other way to surprise you, so I guess I did it on purpose."

You laugh as you lean against him.

"You're mean."

He sighs, his hands beginning their familiar roam on your body.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry for bein' mean, I'm just bad. I can't help it," he grumbles, a recognizable want seeping through his voice as he pulls you against him with more intent.

That's when you feel his erection press up against you.

"Did the boys come back to the house?"

You turn in his arms to face him and he smiles when he looks in your eyes before taking your face in his hands, leaving a gentle peck on your lips. Leaving you wanting more of him.

"Why, would it matter?"

You roll your eyes playfully.

"Well I guess it depends on what you’re trying to do," you mutter, your hips coming to press against his, making a breath fall from his lips, his hands falling to your hips to keep you in place.

"They could watch for all I care, but...no. No one's here, baby."

You hum as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as you capture his lips in yours. He groans softly, gently biting down on your bottom lip. Groaning in response, you pull him against you with more vigour, suddenly needing to be as close to him as possible.

"Let's go inside," you whisper as you start to pull away.

His grip only tightens on your hips as he keeps you pressed against him.

"I wanna do it out here."

A shock runs through you, one of surprise and arousal.

"What if someone sees?"

"Who?" he groans, barely being able to focus on your words as you realize just how aroused he is, maybe from the very idea of being with you in his backyard.

You are stumped, and your thinking skills start to fail you as he sucks a spot on your neck that he knows makes you come undone.

"I saw you out here by yourself. You looked so good, baby. I just wanna have you out here. I couldn't stop thinkin' about it when I was watchin' you."

You don't need him to say anything else as your hands suddenly fly to his belt, undoing it. Once you get the belt undone, you quickly unzip his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock springing free as you slowly fall to your knees.

"God, baby," he groans at your enthusiasm as his hand comes to rake through your hair, pushing it out of your face so he can see you take his cock in your mouth.

Looking up at him, that's exactly what you do. You tease him a little by licking his tip, his eyes immediately glossing over as his lips part. Then you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, causing a soft noise to escape his throat.

"Good girl, sweetheart."

The ache between your legs intensifies. Your eyes leave his as you focus more on the task at hand. You allow your eyes to close as you take more of him in your mouth, causing a groan to fall from his lips as he gathers your hair in one hand.

When you get as much of him as you can manage in your mouth, you take one hand and softly grasp his balls, the other hand grasping his hip to steady yourself as you pull him out of you before sinking back down on him slowly.

"Baby...Goddamn that feels nice," he moans.

Hearing the strain in his voice causes a pulse through your body. You need him. You moan onto his dick as you gaze up at him, finding him looking down at you with some effort. His eyes hooded and trying not to close. He looks gorgeous.

"Is this making you ache, honey, suckin' me off out here? You just need my cock so bad, don't you?"

He pets your hair as he watches his cock disappear and reappear from your mouth. A beautiful sight. You nod to the best of your ability, your tongue coming to lick the underside of him again, making him inhale sharply.

"Alright, baby, get up here."

You release him from your mouth, stumbling to your feet as you wipe the grass from your knees, now having imprints on them. Elvis is quick to take your sweater off. You shiver at the November breeze and Elvis rubs your arms in comfort.

"I'll get you nice and warm soon, baby. I promise," he grumbles before molding his lips to yours.

You sigh as your hands run through his hair, moaning shamelessly as his tongue slips into your mouth. Pulling away, you grasp his shirt before pulling it above his head. You about to release it onto the ground when he takes it.

"For us to lay on," he mutters, giving you an open mouthed kiss before laying it down behind you.

He is quick with the button on your pants before pulling them down your legs along with your underwear, leaving you in just your bra.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he mumbles, unabashedly staring at you before sweeping his eyes up your body, his hands coming to undo your bra.

Throwing it off to the side, he grasps your ass, giving it a firm squeeze, making you blush before scooping you up by your thighs, laying you down on his shirt.

As he comes to hover over top of you, his lips come back to yours hungrily.

"Are you wet for me baby? Do you want me as much as I want you, huh sweetheart?" he groans almost incoherently as he comes to nibble on your earlobe, his hand making it's way slowly to your center.

"Yes, sir, I'm so wet. I need you so bad. Please," you whine.

He loves the nickname and you love saying it. He hums as he hears this, your claims confirmed as he reaches your aching core.

"Oh, baby. You're so good. Good job, honey, you make me so hard," he groans, his finger trailing through your folds before finding its place on your clit.

He's learned exactly what you like and how you like it. Sometimes he likes to tease you and make you whine and beg for him to touch you right, but not today. Today, he needs you so bad.

"Feel my cock again, feel how bad I need you. It's all for you, (Y/N)."

You do as he says, and he's hardened drastically more than when he was in your mouth. You moan as he increases his speed on your clit.

"Elvis, please. I need you."

Grasping your thighs in his hands, he pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, positioning himself at your entrance.

You cry out at finally feeling him inside you as he gently pushes into you, not stopping until he's fully inside. He groans as he gives you time to adjust, he hands coming to cup your breast, his thumbs flicking your nipples.

Gasping, you arch into him, your eyes fluttering open to see his hooded eyes fixated on your chest, entranced as he leans forward, licking his lips before attaching them to your left nipple.

"Fuck, Elvis," you whine as he begins to thrust, pulling out before softly pushing back into you, his mouth still latched onto you.

He hums, his hands frantically coming to your thighs, squeezing harshly before he suddenly increases his speed. Gradually, he increases his thrusts before he is steadily pounding into you, making you gasp for air.

Your eyes squeeze closed as you try to contain your shouts, his thumb coming to circle your clit as the same rough speed. Elvis grumles loudly into your chest, nibbling on your nipple, causing your hands to grab his back, your nails sinking into it.

Finally his face comes to meet yours, his breath hot and heavy as he rests his forehead on yours.

"You look so fuckin' hot like this, baby. Goddamn," he grumbles, leaving another open mouth kiss on your lips.

You greet it as you pull him further down onto you, your head arching back at the steady pounding.

"Yeah?" Elvis murmurs, looking at your reaction, your eyes straining to stay open. "That feel good baby, my dick inside you?"

You moan at his words, grasping onto him.

"Oh, I know, mama. You can hardly take it, can you?" he mews. "My baby just loves my cock so much, doesn't she?"

You groan as you rake you nails down his back, causing him to groan as well.

"You're pussy feels so nice," he grunts, his face falling to your neck, signalling he's getting close to his breaking point.

"Elvis, you feel so good, I can't take it," you whine, your orgasm quickly building at his words and motions, your back arching.

He moans loudly at this, finally hearing how he's making you feel. He loves when you make him work for it.

"There's my baby, I know sweetheart, it feels so good, don't it?" he grumbles, his steady pound coming erratic as his thumb keeps its steady tempo on your clit, pressing down gently.

"Tell me your close, honey, I wanna hear it," he encourages, leaving nibbles on your neck.

He can tell you're almost there, but it gets him off hearing it from your lips.

"I'm so close Elvis, Fuck," you groan, your nails digging so hard into his shoulders it might draw blood.

He hums loudly, almost coming undone himself.

"Come for me then, right on my cock mama."

And so you do, shouting into the empty yard as you pulsate around him.

"Jesus," he shouts, his hips stuttering as he empties into you, slowly rocking inside to ride out both of your orgasms.

You both gasp for breath as he brings his now sweat covered forehead to yours. Leaning up, you connect your lips to his, and he gladly accepts, his hands lazily traveling up your body, grazing your nipples before resting on either side of your face, pulling his head up to look at you.

You return his gaze as you just look at each other, blissed out. You bring your hand to his cheek and his mouth chases your thumb before biting on it playfully. You laugh as he grins down at you.

Masterlist

Tag List:

@horrorgirl4life @goldobsessionsworld @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @father-of-2cats @sissylittlefeather @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist to read along with !!

songs used for inspo: No Matter What (reprise), Wolf Chase, etc...

art credit goes to Marbipa

ooh lord, my back hurts from so much from all the typing I swear once I start writing I don't stop until it's done, any whoop I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!! Try guessing who our new characters are, they'll be introduced soon!!

like always let me know if you’d like to be tagged !

prev | ch.3>>

warnings: enchanted items, fear, slight harassment, slight misogyny

word count: 2.5K

Chapter 2: The Castle

A week after departing from the village….

Mauricio happily hums a tune to himself as he directs Felipe where to go. “Ahh Felipe, can’t you taste it?? First place at the contest, I mean this contraption is very nifty, I’m sure I'll win a prize” He holds onto the reins a bit tighter as he looks around the dark woods. “Well…isn’t this lovely…if only I could recognize which woods I'm in” he says. After a while he reaches a fork in the road. He didn’t know whether to go left or to go right “well…this...is…something” he thinks for a while and looks in both directions “well then Felipe, let's go left, shall we? Let's try to get somewhere before-” Thunder rumbles in the distance..."before the storm hits.” he says while directing the horse to go on the path.

After a while the woods slowly became more spiritless, the trees started looking more shriveled, and the vegetation slowly started disappearing. The wind has picked up a bit and the thunder rumbled louder than before. Mauricio looks around a bit more and says “well where did you take us Felipe? This can’t be right?” he says blaming his decision on the poor horse. Then Howling is heard in the distance. Felipe backed up a bit looking around anxiously as he nickered some more “We should turn back around” Mauricio says.

Suddenly out of the blue he sees a wolf behind him and immediately yells “GO FELIPE GO” The Horse neighs loudly and starts galloping, Rain has started falling and lightning crackles in the sky. Mauricio didn’t even bother to look behind him as he could hear the pattering of feet and snarls behind him. He was being chased by a pack of wolves. The path in the woods slowly started disappearing and the trees became larger and thicker, the rainfall seemingly to become harder and stronger. The roots protruded in the path as the pair ran away. A branch that was in the way makes Felipe trip and fall, the wagon unlatching itself to the horse as it runs. Mauricio fell down and looked at his wagon, all of his supplies scattered, and his dear invention destroyed, but there was no time to think about that. 

He then heard a deep growl behind him and saw the wolf, he got up and ran as fast as his feet could take him and ran to the edge of a small cliff. He looked down and saw the rest of the wolves snarling at him, ready for him to jump so they could pounce at him. He sees Felipe in the distance and yells “FELIPE POR ACA, VENGA!” The horse whinnies and runs towards him, allowing Mauricio to jump and perfectly land on the horse’s back. He looks behind as he sees the pack chase him and his grip tightens on the horse’s reins. He turns back around to see a gate. “TO THE GATE FELIPE” he cries out. The horse runs as fast as its hooves can take him and the gates open allowing the pair to quickly escape and immediately closes as soon as they enter, leaving the hungry pack of wolves barking and snarling outside.

Felipe gallops until it becomes a trot as he could see a stable where he could stay. Mauricio wipes his face in relief and then gets off the horse and brings him to the stable “well let’s get you settled, at least you have some food and water…now, let me go up and uhm…” He looks up at the grandeur castle that is before him. “Greet our host...” he says in awe of the castle. As he walks up the stairs to the entrance, he wonders why can’t seem to remember this place existing or even why there was a castle here in the first place. His thoughts are replaced by the thunder booming as he needs to get inside to stay dry from the storm. 

Mauricio then arrives at the door and looks around, he can see all the lamps lit up, but nobody outside. He knocks on the door and the door creaks and opens. “Thank you, Thank-” he looks next to him and sees nobody by the door. He looks behind him as he sees the door closing on its own. Confused, he slowly walks inside the castle, he sees beside him a fireplace with a lovely chair. “Hello?” He walks a bit more and looks up and sees the intricate designs of the castle “I’m just a traveler…seeking shelter from the storm.” he says, a bit defeated. His words echo in the seemingly empty castle “Perdon por molestar…anyone home?” he says as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. The coat rack then discreetly looks behind him and shakes off some of the water off the coat to release some weight. However, in a corner at a small table a clock and candelabra stare at Mauricio. “Damn...he must have gotten lost in the woods…” The clock smacks him quickly “shut up you idiot” she whispers.

Mauricio then turns around confused, making the two stop moving. “Excuse me?”

He then slowly walks towards the table and looks at the clock. “Oh how beautiful…” He then peeks at the candelabra and picks it up “oh how extraordinary.” Music from a piano starts playing, which makes Mauricio turn around and gently place the candelabra back down on the table. Mauricio then fixes himself and walks towards the music.

“Ooh he got some taste.” 

“Relax, he was talking about me.”

Mauricio then approaches the room where the piano was and sees it playing on its own. “Oop-” the piano says as it stops playing. Mauricio looks at the piano in awe and confusion and stutters a bit over his words. He turns back around to where he originally was and goes to approach the chair by the fireplace. “Well now, wherever you are…I’m just going to sit down and warm myself by the fire. 

In the distance there was some clattering which caught Mauricio’s ear. He quickly walks towards the noise as well to find himself in a dining room that had food by a chair. “Oh, muchas gracias…I couldn’t thank you enough.” he immediately sits down and starts eating, savoring the foods and flavors in his mouth. Then as he ate, he saw a cup on a small plate slowly approach him and he looked at it in utter awe, shock, and fear. “Daddy says I wasn’t supposed to move because it's scary…..sorry” says the cup in a little girl’s voice.

Mauricio’s eyes bulged out in shock as he quickly replied “its…it's alright…” 

He then bolted out of his seat, walking as quickly as he could to the entrance “I…uh. Cannot humbly thank you for…for your hospitality” he says while taking his coat and putting it back on. “But uh it seems to me that I…uh well. Bid you...adieu…” he says with a bow while opening the door. “And uhh…good night.” He slams the door walking as fast as he could, not knowing that someone was watching the whole time. Outside, the storm has stopped, and Mauricio quickly goes to Felipe and mounts him. With a quick thwip from the reins, Felipe galloped into the gardens. “No wait, stop, stop, stop.” The horse stops and Mauricio gets off “Roses…I nearly forgot...” He approaches the rose garden and notices that they were all white, “I promised mi niñita a rose...” Mauricio walks into the garden scoping a perfect rose for Y/N unaware of the owner lurking…watching him as he walks in the rose garden. The host quietly moves from one place to another as he sees Mauricio get closer to a rose. The horse starts nickering and whinnying in anxiousness, hoping that his owner would see his warning.

Mauricio then takes a look at one rose and smiles thinking about Y/N and brings his hands up to pluck the rose, but instead pricks his thumb with a thorn. The host growls as he sees Mauricio reach in again trying to pick out the rose. Finally, Mauricio with a smile plucks the rose for Y/N but instead hears a loud thud and a roar to see the figure in front of him. Scaring him nearly half dead and making him fall on his back. He whimpers in shock and tries to back up in utter fear “HOW DARE YOU STEAL FROM ME, I GIVE YOU SHELTER AND THIS IS WHAT I GET ?!”

Mauricio pleads to the monster in front of him. “N-no p-please, it was only a g-gift for my d-dau-daughter” he says while staring at him. “WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?” Mauricio stutters some more. “OH, I SEE...WE’VE COME TO STARE AT THE BEAST, HAVE WE?” Mauricio looks at him and stammers some more “n-no I didn't mean to offend. I-” A low emanating growl comes from the beast as he approaches him “CALLATE, YOU’VE DONE PLENTY…NOW YOU’RE COMING WITH ME” He takes Mauricio and drags him back inside the castle. Felipe whinnies and bucks his hind legs as he tries to get the reins off of him, eventually succeeding and running off back to the village.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later…

Ben is looking through a bush where some of the leaves have started goldening and falling off, while staring at y/n’s house. “...y/n is sure to get the shock of her life...” Ben nods at Eddie and looks at himself at the puddle next to him. “Oh yes Eddie, this is definitely her lucky day!” He looks away from the bush and turns around to see everything perfectly set up. He then clears his throat to catch everyone’s attention “I would like to thank all of you for coming to my wedding, your contributions are greatly appreciated…but now I gotta go in there and well” he clears out his throat once more “propose to the girl” he says with a chuckle. The guests chuckle and laugh as well unlike the 3 women in the corner who are weeping.

“Now you Eddie, have the most important job, when I come out the door with y/n...” 

“Yea I know, I’ll strike up the band” he says a bit disinterested. As he looks at the band and makes them quickly rehearse the wedding march. 

Back in y/n’s home however, she’s sitting on a chair happily reading her book until she hears a knock on her door. She approaches it and using her father’s invention to see outside, she notices it's Ben and she groans loudly to herself. “Ok…you can do this” she says to herself in a whisper as she opens the door. “Oh, why Ben... que sorpresa...” she says with a feigned voice of interest. 

“Why isn’t it, I'm always full of surprises,” Ben added. “You know y/n there isn’t a single woman in town who would be aching to be you right now.” Y/N backs up a bit “Oh uh…pero como?” Ben chuckles “Well, this is the day your dreams come true my dear...” he saunters his way more to get closer to her. “What do you know about my dreams, Ben?” He chuckled once more “Oh plenty, now here picture this.” He sits down on a chair and places his muddied shoes on the table. “A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill...roasting on the fire, while my pretty little wife massages my aching feet, while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs” he says while looking at her with a smoldering look. “We’ll have six or seven...”

Y/N grimaces at his words and thinks at how unbelievably daring this man is right now. “Perros?” she asks with a pained smile. “No Y/N, strong boys like me!” Y/N rolls her eyes “you...don't say...” she says now looking for some sort of exit from this situation. “Now Y/N, who do you think that little wife will be?” Y/N’s eyes widen in horror and says “erm... Uhh.. let me think…” Ben interrupts her with a grin “Why, YOU Y/N.” Y/N turns away from him quickly and backs up to the door. “Ay pero, Ben I- I’m speechless..I.. well really don’t know what to say” she says as Ben approaches her with a determined look. 

Then, by using both of his arms, Ben pins her to the door with a winning smirk “say you’ll marry me then” he says as he leans in closer to Y/N. “Perdon Ben pero…I’m uh..I just...” Ben has leaned in close enough to kiss her. In a quick attempt, Y/N uses her hand to find the door handle and opens it, quickly moving out of the way, making Ben surprised and fall into a puddle of mud. 

Eddie on the other hand only hears the door open and signals for the band to start playing. He then directs the band for a bit and then hears something moving. He turns around to see Ben completely covered in mud “soo uh…Imma take that as a no...” Ben, enraged, looks into Eddie’s eyes and mutters to him “I WILL have Y/N as my wife, make no mistake about that” he states, as he begrudgingly walks away in embarrassment from the rejection, he just took in front of his wedding guests. 

After the commotion dies down, Y/N peeks out of her front door and looks around “Is he gone ??” She looks down to confirm that Ben is gone and walks outside to feed her chickens “I can’t believe him, ME? To be the wife of that headstrong, boorish, conceited man.” She grabs the chicken feed and throws it everywhere in annoyance “imagínate, señorita riley, just imagine, his little wife.” She throws the bucket of chicken feed to the ground. “I need some place to scream.” 

A few minutes later she ran on top of a hill and layed in the field of dandelions. “My dreams? What does he know about my dreams… I want adventure, I want it so much that I can’t imagine someone else imagining it.” She quietly lays in the grass for a while longer and plucks a dandelion and blows it, watching the seeds spread in the wind. “I want so much more than this tiny village,” she says to herself. “If only someone could understand...” She sighs and closes her eyes, taking in the air from her surroundings. She inhales once again but then stops as she hears whinnying in the distance. She turns around and gets up as she spots Felipe in the distance. 

“Felipe, I- what's wrong?” She looks around to see that there was no wagon and especially her father. “Dónde está papá ?” she says as she tries to calm down the horse. "Where is he Felipe, what happened?!”. 

She took hold of his reins and frantically responded “Please, we must go find him, Take me to him !!” She takes Felipe back home quickly to grab her cloak and to replace the horse’s broken reins. Once she does, she mounts Felipe and takes control as she rides out to the woods to find her father.

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @corpsebridenightamare, @m4dyy,

[heartfullofleeches]

Bullied yan x delinquent reader who beats up their bullies once (probably because they were in the readers spot or getting in their way) know bullied yan clings to the reader and treats them like a god and basically willingly becomes their slave and the reader just looks at them with disgust and slight concern.

Bullied yan: I’ll kill them all if you told me to

Delinquent reader: that’s fucking stupid- you’d be throwing your life your away by murdering someone or anyone for no reason other than “somebody told me too”, don’t waste your life like that

Bullied: Y-You care about my life

Delinquent reader: NO! Fuck off

[light violence, excessive language]

"Alright, idiots. Since you chucklefucks clearly forgot how things run around here while I was away - I'd say it's time for another lesson. Line up and spread 'em."

Trembling in fear, your fellow delinquents part their fingers wide as they place their hands palms down on the gravel - breathing quickened as your looming shadow towers over their battered forms. Whistling along, you step over their hands in a leisurely stride - twisting your heels into the backs of their hands and crushing their fingers raw. You stare down every one of your victims - drawing your foot back to plant it square in the chest of the bully who immediately retracts their hands at you step off their hand. Yanking them forward by the collar as they reel, you crack them hard upside their head as you his.

"Did I fucking say you could move, bitch? I should break every god damn bone in your body for the shit you've been pulling lately, but I'm not trying to get expelled. "

The bully covers their face, shrinking as you ball your fist. "W-we're sorry, Y/n. We thought you were going to be out for the rest of the week. Please don't hurt me.."

What's happening...? The bullies who made their few short weeks in town a living hell - cowering as if they were cut from the same cloth. How-

Thomas had never been the most liked by their peers. Nish interests and their weak frame made them a prime target for bullying. Their parents already had the car packed at the first sign of trouble and off to the next district to try again instead of taking the easy route and letting them in their high school years at home. They tried harder to fit in this time. Blended with the crowd, stuck to themself and their books. In such a short time their family had found stable jobs and made friends with their neighbors. They didn't want to take that away from them, even at the expense of their own happiness away well being.

The bullies here were a different breed. All it took was mistaking one of their bags as their own for everything to crumble around Thomas. The next day they found glass in their locker, accusing words etched into their desk. They were hounded for the money from their part-time job and beaten when they refused to comply. What made matters worse was there were rumors of someone worse than them on suspension after assaulting another student in the parking lot. This was hell, and if they had to deal with another bully they likely wouldn't survive. All they wanted was for someone - anyone to rescue them from this nightmare.

"I've told you time and time again that the bleachers are my territory. You dumbasses think you're sneaky, but you always leave cigarettes and other filth behind. I want you to clean your shit up - and get the fuck off my property."

You look back at Thomas like a beast to prey. "And I want you to return everything you stole from that guy. I let you off the hook easy one to many times. On second thought, gimme me that."

You tear the watch off leader's wrist and throw it at them as you walk pass. "Pawn it. Should be worth almost as much as they took."

Thomas misses the catch, scrambling to their feet to pick up the watch. "T....thank you?"

You scoff. "Don't thank me. Those morons never learn and needed an explanation of what happens when you mess with my shit. Stay away from me or you'll end up just like them."

You push past them as you walk off. Thomas would later come to find you were the student spoken of in rumors and the guy you nearly put in the hospital had tried to fight you the authority you never sought to claim. Many saw you as another target for your reserved nature until you put them in their place with your fist. You were almost alike in that regard. Challenged by peers for your differences. Unlike Thomas, you had the courage to hold your ground and knock someone down if needed. It was aw inspiring. It was enchanting. Maybe you were more alike than they'd originally thought. Thomas had always longed for companionship and maybe deep down you wanted the same. Partners in this cruel, fucked up world.

The next day, Thomas waits outside for you to show. You arrive almost thirty minutes late making it the first day they've ever been late for class, but they were fully prepared to shed their old self to make room for whatever you wanted them to be. They run up to you, digging through their bag as they call out.

"Ah - Y/n! Wait!"

You turn, annoyance clear as day. "Yea?..."

Thomas laughs, oddly giddy at the aggression in your tone. "So that is your name... I, uh - have a present for you. My mom goes hunting in the fall and really wants me to come with her. She gave me this as an early gift and I thought you'd be better with it."

Raising a brow, your curiosity plummets as the sheath of the item Thomas drew comes into view. A hunting knife, roughly sixteen inches in length and engraved with their initials. It felt almost romantic to give something with their name to you. Your eyes shoot around the open hall; shoving their hands and the knife back into their bag as your voice drops to a venom posed whisper.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Thomas giggles hysterically. They never wanted to wash their hands again. "Y-you're touching me...."

"Why did you bring that here? Are you trying to get us both kicked out or arrested?"

"I-I just wanted to give you something to help you out if you get into trouble again. You said it yourself that they never learn. There's no better lesson than slitting someone's throat, right? If you're worried about getting caught you don't have to be. I'll take care of everything - and even if we do get caught I'll take the blame."

You let them go, wiping your hands on your shirt as your face scrunched in disgust. "You're stupider than you look. Stay the fuck away from me freak - and don't throw your life away over dumb shit like someone knocking you around.

Thomas sighs as you storm off. They feel as though they should be upset, but even in threat it almost sounds like you're just looking out for them in your own, special way. This move really had been a change - for the better.

[roachywoachy]

I'm addicted to a series I haven't even written yet.. like what. Anyways have a prompt for the 3rd chapter which is just the baseline pretty much.. it feels so much longer.

Either I'll start this slow series or pump a Zetasen fic, the prompt just being collaring and valve eating so.. we're getting there.

Previous

ISNT PROWL SO BEAUTIFUL THOUGH?? I- sigh..

Prowl awoke once more feeling better, the drug only lingering in the back of his processor now, he'd been sat on a metal crate in the anclove and there was loud roaring of engines and heavy machinery outside. Just barely able to see blurrs of green some ways out from the now drafty cove. The cold breeze rolling against dull wings.

The loud machery echoing along the dark walls and blaring growls occasionally, Longhaul and Scavenger working to get the rubble to one side. Mixmaster on his own deeper down where they were originally mining for energon on his own, Scrapper and Bonecrusher were doing most of the digging and crushing while Hook oversaw and Watched Prowl from the edge of the anclove. Leaving the cop alone as he trudged down to where Mixmaster was rambling on to himself.

As the loud sounds got overstimulating Prowl found himself getting up from the crate, wobbly from the lack of stability his doorwings would allow. Coated in another layer of specially refined energon that Hook probably mixed up with some more of that sticky oil to keep it as a servomade coating, thankfully it did work, somewhat.

Walking over to the rather large entrance to the anclove, overseeing the constructicons working away at tough rock. The medic and chemist mining out energon with ease as they've been doing for who knows how long now, they'd been positioned to dig here for months now. When was the last time they were even above ground?

Mixmaster and Hook, spotted the white sparkle of Prowl in their optics almost immediately. One arm on the wall as he was regaining his bearings, still lacking stabilization. Just watching the other 4 (Scrapper, Bonecrusher, Scavenger, Longhaul) trudge around the progress they'd made. Noting their proficiency, tac-net spurring on about their progress. Estimating how long it'll take to get out at this pace, varying from solar-cycles to many mega-cycles.

Not after long the noise quieted down as a large pile of rubble formed where Longhaul was dumping it all, it seems they were taking a break.. Mix and Hook had told the others Prowl was up now.

Concluding work for now the other four transformed back and stretched some, Scavenger followed Scrapper to Prowl as Hook and Mixmaster stood behind the Unknowing cop who was fighting a processor ache.

Scavenger and and Bonecrusher were ordered to go pick up the mined raw energon, Longhaul was already in the anclove and steaming from going back and forth an entire solar-cycle. Scrapper, Mix and Hook towered over the cop who was not exactly supposed to be up, doctor's orders but it's not like he was told specifically. Not that Prowl would listen to Hook, who knows what that maniac did while rustling inside his chassis.

Hook brushed a servo against shiny doorwings that glistened from the protective coat he'd applied, feeling over to make sure it held up. In response the cop hitched his doorwings up with a sharp pain, very aware of his own space now as he backed away from the looming 'cons who watched him with distain and.. interest.

Scrapper asked how he was holding up, trying to coax any words from Prowl. Testing if he was stable and all there in the head which Prowl replied with his arms crossed, glaring at the 'cons who he was barely trusting but so far they haven't done anything bad.. apart from being invasive.

They spoke back and forth, Prowl giving them numbers and a comment on their efficiency.

Prime and Megatron worked together very rarely but it still happened, what's the worst that could happen if they had their own little team up until they got out but it was clear they were hiding something. Prowl knew they wouldn't let him go once they got out, he'd have time to plan with an injury like this. Prone to tripping or migraines.

Prowl would help the 'cons, numerical wise. He was a military strategist not the bulk they were, he would try to play the seemingly ignorant Constructicons. The numbers were in his favor.

During the conversation Bonecrusher and Scavenger were passing by to put the newly mined raw energon deeper in the anclove, Mixmaster followed. Those two would probably blow the whole place anew if he left those idiots with raw energon.

Scrapper and Hook continued prodding Prowl, forging their little deal. The issue was they had an unfair advantage with their bond, they could communicate without the need to activate their voice modulators. Prowl was left in the dark on some things but Scrapper was an almost open book, Hook was less lenient but accepted Prowl because Scrapper was trusting him.

Mixmaster was still unknown, busy with refining energon for the crew but he was a chemist. He had a mind, a working.. somewhat manic mind.

Scavenger was doing whatever he was told, the most interested in their temporary add-on. Often glancing at Prowl from where he was behind, battered by Bonecrusher and Longhaul but Scrapper indulged in the curious mech.

Longhaul hadn't complained about Prowl being with them for the time being which was surprising in its own right, usually overbearing but he was getting his energy used up by hauling back and forth all solar-cycle. Often adding on to something someone said.

Bonecrusher was gruff, because why did they even need an autobot to help them? They were more than enough to dig themselves out, they were devestator. Irritated with Scrapper and Hook indulging in the smaller, weaker frame. Prowl did have some charm though, he was cold and as the 'cons didn't know. Prowl rarely acted this way with the autobots, he was clearly weakened. Doorwings not lowered in submission but because he listened to Hooks questionable medical advice.

Bonecrusher was fine with Prowl around, as long as he stayed out of the way.

Prowls migraines tore through his processor, leaving a scowl of pain and if you looked really close you could see a glint of embarrassment in his optics. Prowl was conflicted with his own affiliation, he'd tried to escape the war and as he was dragged down Optimus–his lifelong friend– accepted him into the autobots where he became a master of his tactical mind and was the primes main military strategist. He'd done everything for Primes cause, and what did he get? Barely even a pat on the back.

Shaking his helm in frustration, frustration that was not towards the 'cons overpowering presence. Their presence was better than being alone in this filthy pit.

Scrapper was speaking again, ushering Prowl into the now cramped cove that felt oddly warm from their engines still relaxing after just getting off work. Hook followed and they all crowded the cove, Longhaul had to duck some to not hit his head.

Prowl sat on the same crate, barley getting a height advantage from where the others sat all around. Longhaul and Scrapper were tired, Scavenger didn't seem exhausted. Purposely sitting closest to Prowl, shovel filled with a shinier sort of rubble.

Slowly scooting closer to the cop, leaning back against the crate and gazing up through that damn visor. Servos steady as if he was hunting the incapitated praxian who was more focused on the others moving about, Mixmasters conversation with Scrapper, Hook, Longhaul and Bonecrusher just talking at eachother.

The movement was making Prowl a little dizzy, he'd barely even registered who was who at this point. Mixmaster was the only one who stood out, blurrs of purple green and red.

Two rather large servos carefully grabbed Prowls pedes, getting him a jolt from the smaller. Prowl glanced down at Scavenger with a quiet sound of surprise, the position didn't allow Prowl to move his dirty pedes that were being held firmly by a curious 'con, watching Prowl tell him to let go but why would he? He was trying to help.

Scavenger pulled Prowls pedes over his shoulders, kibble pressed back against the crate a little uncomfortably but he didn't mind. Prowl was embarrassed, irritated and shocked. Unable to escape huge servos rubbing small circles against his lower thighs, left servo dipping down to still Prowls kicking pede.

Once the irritated cop relaxed and accepted his fate with a poor attempt at comfort the others didn't seem to care, apart from that Scavenger was touching someone outside of the gestalt but it was for comfort.. if Prowl was stressed the whole time then he'd really try to bolt.

When Scav tried resting his head back he got a smack from the cop, barely even putting up with this as is. He didn't need the back of a 'cons helm resting against his codpiece as if they were trinemates.. the nerve of this guy.

Prowl crossed his servos and leaned a tad to the side to rest his shoulder, sadly he couldn't lean back yet until Hook says so or else he'll probably get scolded and reminded of Ratchet. Not a mech he wanted to think of at the moment.

Scavenger eventually leaned his helm back against the apex of Prowls thighs, watching the upside down praxians optics shift around the cove. Dim optics, usually autobots had bright blue. Beautiful sapphire.. so why were his so dim?

Longhaul came over, teasing Scavenger about putting Prowl in this position. The unwilling participant sighing, trying to get some comfortable if he would be stuck like this pathetic show of soothing his temper.

The others crowded a little closer, their warmth whirring into Prowls cold plating. Scavenger was warm.. a soft warmth pooling between his thighs, feeling his pedes getting filth bushed off as Scav continued trying to comfort. He remembered when they were lost.. not exactly.

They were forged together, all 6 of them to build. Built to create, they were like a trine of sorts. Just a little different so they understood bonds, trines. Scavenger imagined Prowls trine, he remembered two others similar to Prowl. And Barricade, Barricade was a cop like Prowl.. did they work together before?

Scavengers curiosity about their prisoner, seeped through the bond. The others queued in as Prowl shifted when they all moved closer, the gestalt usually slept on one huge berth. The solar-cycle before being an exception.

Prowl didn't have much data on the constructicons themselves, they were violent and broody but right now they seemed bored. They could be working and they would be out sooner if they hadn't stopped when Prowl got up but how long were they working then? There was energon cubes piled up nearby, just enough before he had to process the other half raw energon.

Prowl couldn't get it off his processor the tickles of heated digits rubbing into cool metal, absently thinking about how hot Longhaul could get.

Hook and Scrapper were close, leaning against eachother in complete boredom. Digging and just digging wasn't entertaining for long and the entire gestalt was tired of it already.

Scavengers digits were exploring, rubbing his pedes and picking rocks that got stuck. Lifting his helm again to join in whatever conversation. They spoke and spoke, did they ever get tired of their banter?

Prowl rubbed his nasal ridge, a quiet headache trying to pipe up from the back of his processor. Immediately pulled from countless calculations when Mixmaster brought up Prowl being in recharge for solar-cycles.. how many solar-cycles? That got Prowls attention, sitting up with narrowed optics. Questioning the 'cons.

He'd only been in recharge for 3 solar-cycles and was a symptom of the dose Mix and Hook gave him because of course they gave Prowl a Constructicon dose because well, you can't blame them. They were all still dazed a few days ago.

He'd been recharging on the crate for 3 whole solar-cycles and the 'cons were mostly planning and digging away at certain spots. Lots of testing to make sure the place didn't collapse completely, they'd only started digging last solar-cycle. No wonder they were filthy again.. specifically Mixmaster who needed a break from refining the energon. They'd have to keep up with Mixmasters refining to not have low power.

Scrapper told him exactly what he thought happened and the others just kind of chatted, bored and exhausted.. it was so dark too, their visors and some lamps around from the tunnel that lit the place just enough to make out everyone.

[sunny-mercya]

Collapsed

Trafalgar Law x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Requested by -> @bunbunboysworld

Masterlist | Related OS |

It had been two weeks—which equals into 14 days and those were approximately, plus minus, 336 hours—since you had fallen into a coma.

A coma which could've been prevented if your captain wasn't so recklessly careless with your health and—in a sense of way, profusely—ignored your medical needs—at least that's how Laws oh so humble opinion of view about this was.

When you had collapsed, for once and final—in the mere hours of the ultimate last battle, after you stood up once more to fight, against Kaido—Law picked you up and teleported back to the Polar Tang, into the Medical room, hooking you up on the machines and tubes—doing is best to get you stable.

Your heartline had deflated more than once during the first attempts of getting you stable enough—out of the death threatening double zero blood sugar zone—and Law, by any means of being a damned good Doctor, had doubted himself all these hours whenever your heart dropped out of living.

For someone, mused Law to himself in his lonesome thoughts—which he couldn't share with you at the moment, to get your input and opinions about whatever plagues his mind—like Monkey D. Luffy, who declares literally war against everyone and anything, even against humanity itself if needed to be, when whoever dares to hurt his dear friends—he really does like to care little and less about the wellbeing of his own crew mates.

Slumping down onto a chair next to you, Law breathed out a heavily sigh of defeat—his hand moving towards your ashen face, fingers gently tracing over the feverish skin.

»[Name]-ya, would you even agree to leave the Strawhats and come with me instead?« a whispering question, Law knew would never be answered and which he also would never dare to repeat to you again.

But Law wished, longing in a sort of way even, that you would just stay with him instead of Luffy—but knowing your faithfulness of loyalty you have pledged and declared loudly—especially against the whole Marines and Admiral Akinau—during the battle of Marine-Ford to the Strawhat and what history you have with him, Law knew you would never waver and Law himself didn't want to force you to choose between two sides.

~~~

The first thing Law hears, when going to the Strawhats—wanting to ask either Robin or Chopper, if they could bring some of your clothes to him—was how Luffy declared you as almost dead and Law stopped in his tracks—Bepo, Sachi and Penguin crashing into his back and looking slightly confused and concerned at him.

Mentally Law counted till ten and he also tries to recall, when he ever said something along those lines. He certainly didn't.

Law did say, that your health condition is still considered critical and that it takes a while for you to recover—but he definitely never said that you're dying or being dead.

»[Name]-ya isn't dying. Not anytime soon and not when I'm still a Doctor.« comment Law, making his way to Robin, greeting her with a curt nod.

»But Traffy! You said [Nickname] is close to death,«

Law wonders why he still bothers with such a Captain as Rival.

»Yes. When [Name]-ya's blood sugar reaches Zero and if no one's there to keep him stable or gives him the insulin, than he's close to deaths door. I did explained before, didn't I?« Law sighed out, clenched his jaw and trying his best not explode any seconds from the up building anger.

How many times did he told them? More than often. From Punk Hazard all the way to Wano, Law had explained—even in simple folk terms—what sort of medical issue you having, what it caused and how to prevent it mostly—but here they are, once again, having to go such discussion repeatedly again.

»If you had listen, to what I have said at Punk Hazard and Dressrosa, then you wouldn't need to ask again.« Law might have said it a bit harshly, but to the above—he doesn't care at the moment.

Laws tired, honestly exhausted, having slept at all these past weeks—he hadn't a good schedule of sleep to begin with, always being a bit insomniac—hadn't a good cup of coffee either, because he only ever drinks it when your brewing him one—it just taste much better in his opinion—and besides him having to do his duties as a Captain and Doctor—he's in a constant mood of worry over you.

So, please, excuse Law when he's about to be done with whatever nonsense shit Monkey D. Luffy is babbling on about.

»You know Strawhat-ya, if you keep this up, I might just snatch [Nickname]-ya away from you. After all I'm his husband, so he belongs to me and I honestly to god don't give a fucking shit, if this means war between us.«

For once, Law doesn't stop himself to speak unfiltered when tired—feeling rather relieved even to have said such declaration now.

»Ehhhh?! Whatcha mean? Watcha mean with this Traffy?!«

Law ignores Luffy's whining questions and his bouncing around—thanking Robin, ignoring her teasing smile and made his way back to the Polar-Tang.

~~~

When you woken up from your coma, you had been barely awake and neither responsive—you still weren't, even after days, falling back into the clutches of sleep more than often.

Once you were more coherent enough to respond to Laws medical questions and doings, he had deemed you not critical of condition anymore, but still not recovered.

»It's....hot...« you mumble out, moving—albeit still weakly—under the blankets, wanting some coolness onto your skin.

»I'll bring you another frozen washcloth soon.« said Law, turning another page of his book—a book about medical history—sitting next to you on the bed, his bed to be exact—had moved you there, after Law was certain you didn't need the machines to keep your heart and lungs from collapsing.

You suffering through a high fever and an sensitive stomach—couldn't keep any sorts of food in, without vomiting it out right after—was an outcome Law had predicted to come—after all, blood sugar comas were tricky.

Law's glad it's only a high fever you had gotten and not something like internal bleeding or decaying limps—like said before, blood sugar coma are tricky life threatening risky.

»Can I have.....uhm....that one warm drink too? Please?«

»Hot Chocolate?«

»Yes! No, wait, the other warm drink, what I had last night,«

»Tea?«

»Yeah, yeah tea, please.«

»Sure, whatever you wish for, love.«

Marking the page and putting his book away on the nightstand, Law lays himself down—getting more comfortable—to you, arm draping over your blanket covered stomach, while his other hand supports his head.

Such flushed, Law mused to himself with an upcoming impish boy smile—blood flowing red your face is—expression and the slight sweat, suits you really well and if you weren't currently bed ridden and on recovery—Law would have nibbled on your exposed skin already, teasing and edging you till you're close of passing out.

Although Law couldn't enjoy some passionate sex with you, he could cuddle with you as much as he wants now and this sounds by far like a much better deal anyways—after all, you and him are more separated than together, so Law takes every opportunity he gets to have you.

Perhaps, Law doesn't have to declare War against the Strawhat—not as long as you're sick anyways and once recovered and healthy, maybe than Law could persuade you to go with him from now on.

Law had lost his focus on his train of thoughts and all his future plans, when you booped his nose. Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Law glances down at you.

»Law, please, I'm hot and I also wanna have some tea and cuddles.« you pouted a bit, scrunching up your face from the uncomfortable warmth.

»As you wish.« Law leaned down, giving you a kiss on the forehead and moving from the bed.

Law's indeed glad—despite the circumstances of how—to be a Doctor and you're his patient, but he's absolutely overjoyed to have you has his Husband now and forever.

[rayyanishere1]

A Day in the Life of a Loser: Loser Ford AU

Chapter 11: Portal Testing

4th January 1983

Is it just me or is Fiddleford getting increasingly paranoid about the portal? He's come to me a few times saying "What if it's dangerous?" and "Is it worth it?"

My Muse has assured me of it's purpose. I know what it is, I know that there's nothing to fear.

We'll be doing a test later today with a dummy to assess the progress of the portal. Once we do that, I'm sure Fiddleford will realize that he has nothing to worry about.

∆∆∆

Ford was buzzing with excitement this particular afternoon.

After 8 months of hard work, the portal was finally stable enough to test properly. He'd even gone through the effort of getting an actual dummy instead of just flinging a random unwanted object into it.

His enthusiasm wasn't shared by the anybody else. Bill, maybe. Then again, he isn't exactly in the room, is he?

Getting dressed, Ford looked in the mirror. For the first time in a while, he saw his reflection and felt pride.

Stanford Pines was destined for greatness and he was either gonna prove it or die trying!

He headed to the kitchen to see Stan brewing some coffee.

"You're excited. Does this have something to do with your project in the basement?"

"Yup! We're going to use a dummy to test it later!"

Stan just nodded along, not having the current brain capacity to listen to Ford's sci-fi nonsense.

"Well, whatever it is you two are doing, have fun. And don't die."

A few hours later, Stan left. Ford and Fiddleford descended into the basement to make preparations before properly conducting their test.

A blue glow emitting from the portal and the lights surrounding it illuminated the otherwise dark room. The two slowly stepped forward, dummy in hand.

"Ready, and..."

The dummy floated towards the portal, pulling Fiddleford with it. His hand had gotten tangled in the rope and neither of them noticed until now.

Fiddleford shouted and flailed himself around in an attempt to get back down.

"I got you, buddy!"

Pulling the rope as hard as he possibly could, Ford managed to get Fiddleford and the dummy out of the portal's strong pull. That sent the two (three?) of them tumbling onto the floor.

Not bothering to check on his assistant's wellbeing, Ford let his curiosity take over.

"What is it? Is it working? What did you see?!"

"Ahh! VOTMZRIG IVSKRX OORY."

"Fiddleford..?"

He sat up in an unnervingly calm way. His pupils were blown wide and he didn't seem like himself.

"When Gravity Falls and Earth become sky, fear the beast with just one eye!"

"Fiddleford, what are you saying? I don't understand—"

Finally snapping out of whatever that was, Fiddleford turned to Ford once more.

"This machine is dangerous, you'll bring about the end of the world with this! Destroy it before it destroys us all!"

"I.. I can't destroy this! It's my life's work!"

"I fear we've unleashed a grave danger on the world.. One I'd just as soon forget. I quit!"

Ford was left dumbfounded on his own basement floor. This couldn't be happening. No, no, it just couldn't... This was supposed to be the greatest thing he's ever done! It was all going so well, this wasn't supposed t—

He needed to get Fiddleford back.

Upstairs, Fiddleford was messily shoving his belongings back into his suitcases.

"Fiddleford!"

"No, Stanford, I'm leaving. Nothing you can say will change my mind!"

"Fiddleford, I'm sorry! Won't you at least tell me what you saw?"

"Leave me alone, Stanford. What I saw wasn't meant for the human mind. If it were released onto Earth—"

He shook his head, trying to get the damned image out of his head.

Fiddleford rushed out and left Ford alone in the room, again.

Once he caught up to him outside, Fiddleford was with Stan. Maybe he came back to get something?

"Sixer! What happened?"

Alerted that Ford was there, Fiddleford slipped away.

"Wait, Fidds! Fiddleford!"

Stan ran after him, leaving Ford alone on the porch. Again.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

∆∆∆

The portal is going to be delayed for the time being.

[shiraishi--kanade]

Ayo ayo ayooooo? 👀

With the post being “hey guys I'm going to leave my fawn response traumatized female character with you for a bit I sure hope when I get back she hasn't been girlbossified and otherwise mischaracterized to fulfill your own catharsis and ideas on how a victim should act and feel”

And ya tagged honamiiii? Ayooo? 👀

Can you please explain what you mean by that?

This is just me wanting you to talk about one of my favorite characters and how the fandom tend to mischaracterize her 🥹

Mhm I'm not a Honami expert! I've actually not read much about her past the main story, but the main story is what I was thinking about in that post.

One of Honami's major conflicts early on (main story and, if I remember correctly, her first focus?) is that her good-natured and kind-behaviour has resulted in her being bullied for, let's face it, petty and bullshit reasons. She's not the only Leo/need member to face that, because there's also Shiho who was in a virtually the same situation; but Honami's response to that bullying was different, and it's basically agreeing with her bullies and doing what they wanted of her ("pick a side", forming a more stable friend group, basically, changing her behaviour). She adjusted to the demands of people who put her through trauma in an attempt to please them and stop the bullying - that's fawning, a textbook definition of that. That's a trauma response.

And Honami is definitely more affected by it than a lot of people tend to remember. She's the only character outside of n25 who has expressed having suicidal ideation at some point. So it's not just her going along with bullying or conforming to the situation to be in a more comfortable position - her bullying was severe enough to cause her that level of trauma (in a combination with other factors like leo/need falling out), and her desperate attempt to appease other people was a trauma reaction.

If you actually listen into what she's saying, all of the above is very in plan view. She's very clearly hurting. She is people-pleasing, objectively speaking; just not in a way people accuse her of and not for the reason they think she does. She also has other signs of fawn trauma response; she has difficulty saying no to people, struggles with boundaries, and struggles to identify her own needs (later in the same chapter she mentions not even knowing what friendship feels like anymore, but I think Honami ignoring what she wants vs what other want of her is a kind of running theme in the main story anyhow).

As for mischaracterisation... I feel like the fandoms actually ignores Honami to the extend where it's hard to actually notice patterns. So the mischaracterisation is actually just not acknowledging her trauma and her response to it actually exists, and not engaging with that in a meaningful way. Every once in a while I see portrayals of Honami as much sterner or commanding than she canonically is, and I believe this is in a way due to her becoming a leader and the tropes that role usually involves mixing up with the fandom's generally poor understanding of her character. Honami's trauma response never went anywhere, she's just doing better now and growing into her role; this is not to say she's mentally weak or otherwise, because trauma responses are bullshit and maladaptive for everyone and aren't an indicative of your personality. I just think people don't quite get how Honami would behave in a crisis situation if one arose, which is often the premise of the fanworks. So they slap a generic "overprotective mom friend" reaction on her. So. *Shrug*

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Molten/Sun] Honeytrap duo. [Bad End Au] [1]

Summary: [Bad End Au] What would happen if the Creator not only captured Molten, but also captured Sun? It was easy to reprogram Molten, and his unruly eldest son was no less compliant after a while when they were left alone with their own heads. Sun's personality chip has also been damaged quite a bit, but Creator doesn't complain, if that makes Sun more obedient and insistent on listening to Creator like the good son he should be.

This is a relatively distant future, where Dark Sun betrayed Nexus and threw Nexus to Sun as a kind of test to see if Nexus' presence would ruin the Creator's plans or not. (---- Spoiler: It does.)

It would be a lie to say Nexus didn't expect to be stabbed in the back like that.

He's not stupid. Nexus knows that Dark Sun has been playing him like a cricket from the beginning, and the fact that they have a fairly stable alliance to this day is because they both have something they both want from the other.

He just doesn't care, especially when he has so many shiny toys to play with. But it seemed that at the end of the day, Nexus himself went too far, and this 'Sun' couldn't stand him anymore and kicked him out. Nexus chuckled in pain, trying to control the negative star energy that was leaking out of him uncontrollably like a broken water valve, falling to the ground full of gravel and sand.

“I told you, right? Don't let things go too far, don't let anything trace back here. Don't mess with the astral bodies yet. But you didn't listen to me. Again and again.” Dark Sun pondered, staring at him blandly like he was some kind of investment that even though he knew it would fail, he still tried to invest money in it out of curiosity, only to leave a huge capital hole that couldn’t pay it off?

“Like every other Moon, you have to try to let your ego get in the way—”

“I'm not Moon. I am Nexus!” Nexus gritted out every word. The gloomy light in the laboratory became dim, proving that time in this dimension built with Dark Matters was about to run out. Darkness fell on Dark Sun's shoulder, a soft sigh filled the quiet cramped space.

Dark Sun's head tilted to one side, he asked calmly.

“So Nexus, what do you plan to do now? With the way astral bodies seem to be about to discover this place and aim to deal with you?”

“We move. And find another empty dimension. It's that simple.” Nexus waved his hand, he turned away and continued to look at the pile of Wither shards flickering in the glass cage, ignoring the presence of Dark Sun. The lonely white color in each tile somehow still makes Nexus feel dirty and grumpy, and a feeling of excitement still runs along each wire of Nexus like a beast wanting to escape and find someone to let it burn out.

“I think you're missing the point here, Nexus.” Dark Sun stated it slowly, as if trying to explain to a toddler. “Those astral bodies, it's not something that's easy for you to engage with and just ignore them like nothing happened. Even I can't say I can protect you if you keep pulling something like that.”

“Then don't.”

"I'm sorry?" Dark Sun adjusted his glasses, a simple red light flashed as if he was truly curious about what Nexus was saying.

“I said, then don't. I said it from the beginning, right? I don't care.‌ They want to come, so let them come. I can destroy all those worms easily if I want. They are no match for me.” He smirked, he was so tired of not doing this, not being able to do that. It was no different from being at home, no different from being controlled and manipulated once again like a freaking puppet.

“Nexus—”

"Don’t you dare to speak with me like that! I am God now!! Don't you dare underestimate me! Or do you also want to try a little of this kind of power?” Nexus's red eyes flashed with challenge, his hand forming a dark purple-black sphere, thick with death. The wavelengths emitted from the sphere stir up everything around, gradually scattering fine dust particles like a disintegration phenomenon. Papers flew everywhere, even the broken crystals vibrated, resonating with the power of the Nexus.

“I'm just a little worried about you.” Dark Sun said apprehensively, with a tone that completely made Nexus laugh.

"Worry?! Hah!!? Don't make me laugh! I'm here because you need me to research those Wither shards! Don't think I don't know that you went behind my back and colluded with Moon and Solar to try to bring me down.”

Nexus said the two people's names with pure venom. The former disgusted him so much that he wanted to keep them alive to make their life worse than death. The latter gave him a familiar haunting feeling of almost burning guilt, there was also bitterness and jealousy hatred running down his spine when he saw the other immediately clinging to any Moon that offered him comfort. trust.

The threat was clear in the air. Nexus could confidently say that he was the stronger of the two, that now it was Nexus who would be in control. And if Dark Sun wanted to end this meaningless alliance, he would be willing to do so, right now, right here, without any regret.

In the destruction and chaos created in the name of Nexus, Dark Sun still stays blandly. Rather than that, they look like they have been accepted.

“Forgive my words, Nexus.” The purple color in Nexus's hand was retracted by Dark Sun's almost compliant bow. “It's just, you forgot one thing…”

“And what is that?” Nexus raised an eyebrow. He was quite curious to see what Dark Sun had up his sleeve, as this 'Sun' never revealed any valuable information from himself.

“ You are not irreplaceable .”

And suddenly, he couldn't move. Nexus didn't know what the hell Dark Sun had done, but even the negative stellar energy he was trying to tap into right now was completely empty and unusable.

“So you're going to kill me now?” Nexus smiled fiercely, his red eyes staring at Dark Sun, as if wanting to pin that image into his mind, so that if he survived, he would find some horrific way to imprint it on that face. To remind it no one, absolutely no one allows messing around with Nexus.

"No." Dark Sun's hand touched the back of his head, "Killing you really dirty my hands, and I don't think you're valuable enough for me to do it myself."

There was a very faint clicking sound like something was being inserted.

“Hah… So what do you do then?‌ Are you going to throw me back with Moon and Sun and Solar and Lunar so those pathetic worms can kill me themselves? Let me guess, what you put inside me is something that makes me comply, right? Be a good boy for them to dissect like a sheep? You are more pathetic than I thought.” Nexus chuckled, his red eyes flashing with madness. He inevitably couldn't move, because otherwise, that golden head full of rays would be torn off one by one by him like the petals of a chrysanthemum.

‘His other one’ is very sensitive to pain. It made Nexus curious, if he broke that arm, would it make Dark Sun scream?

“I thought so too. Hand you over to Moon, let them deal with you, maybe try to save you. Destroy you. Or hand you over to the Astral Bodies, so you can suffer the punishment you deserve for your stubbornness.” Dark Sun hummed. “But… then, there is someone who wants that honor more. And who am I to refuse a request from a friend?”

“What do you mean?”‌ Nexus narrowed his eyes. Dark Sun has no friends. They were the ones who always claimed they didn't care about anything beyond the eternal vacation of their own vague plans, and suddenly wanted Nexus to believe that there was something or someone for Dark Sun to care about?

Bullshit.

“Yeah, yeah… You might not believe what I said.” Dark Sun took his time, another latching sound rang out after the wires were put back in place. Dark Sun's slow patience, if it weren't for the negative stellar energy that had burned out his sensory system, Nexus was sure he would be going crazy from pain right now. “But it's true, and believe me, you'll soon know who it is. Don't want to spoil the surprise, am I right?

“You should wish I was dead, 'Sun'.” Nexus growls quietly. “Because I'll be glad to split your chest in half when I get back.” The purple vortex appeared before him, just waiting for him to enter, flashing in his eyes like some kind of destiny.

“Haha— Your way of talking always makes me laugh, Nexus. Good threat though. Anyway, tah-tah, Nexus.” Pain shot through Nexus's circuit board, causing him to let out a long scream. Darkness erupted in front of him, blurring his vision to a purple-red hue. It felt like he had lost gravity, as he fell forever in the air. And suddenly, everything disappeared—

***

“I didn't think this would be what 'Dark Sun' was referring to when he said he was going to send me a surprise.” The slightly high-pitched, familiar yet unfamiliar voice, which Nexus had tried to bury in his subconscious, suddenly echoed in his ears.

The blurry light in front of him was a confused Nexus.‌ His system was filled with interference bands, as if trying to restart the software. The equilateral triangles in his system crowed that something was very wrong and demanded to be fixed, something that unfortunately he didn't care much about except for the annoying thing that it prevented him from knowing where the hell he was? The strong antiseptic smell hit the tip of Nexus's nose. A golden light of saffron appeared in his vision, making him want to almost unsure of who that person was.

“Are you friends with Dark Sun?” That was the first thing Nexus said. The only thing Nexus wants to know. He was so tired of the ridiculous empty taunts like how Eclipse wore it to protect themselves, or the fake politeness of the despicable creature called Ruin. What's the point of caring for others when the naked truth is always to prove the best.

“What? Not at all…” The voice laughed nervously. They didn't show any anger or fear or utter disappointment like the last time they faced him, the voice used to be so tired and empty, a fact that Nexus tried to ignore.

“I mean, I guess we have a few drinking parties sometimes. But does that mean we are friends?”‌ Sun – His Sun, the mean old Sun, the one who always looked at him with the shadow of someone else at their eyes' corner, right now looked so small in this bulky, grimacing laboratory. Sun reached out to tap their chin, looking like he was thinking something nonsense.

It was almost like looking at Dark Sun, with the way Sun held themselves and the so false leisure on their faces. Similar but different.

A strange, bitter feeling arose in Nexus's internal organs. The voice in my head that had been asleep for a long time suddenly woke up and screamed. His instincts continuously arose in his racing thoughts, making him unable to help but cringe.

There's something very wrong about Sun—

If Sun's eyes, the most obvious to recognize, which were originally a pure pearl color, one side had turned a toxic pinkish purple, a color too similar to the fragments of the Wither Storm. Then It was a small collar that hugged Sun's neck and wrists so tightly, with smooth black metal lines that almost looked like a dog collar, but also resembled shackles.

“Ah— How awkward…” Sun almost hissed, rambling pathetically. “I haven't prepared what I should say, if I see you again.”

“Or when I will see you again.” Sun added, stuttering. “I don't think Dark Sun really threw you away like a bag of trash like this. Haha… I'm just kidding… "

There was something in that voice that made the anger at Nexus' earlier betrayal suddenly flare up again. The crying voice in Nexus's head screamed, causing his entire body to erupt in pain. He hates this person, he loathes this person so much. The person who doesn't even have any merit, only knows how to cling on to others to do their bidding. 

'You've always been so good at making me feel miserable just by existing.'

Nexus glared at the saffron-colored animatronic, the ominously happy expression on the face of the man who was once his brother made his stomach churn a little. It almost made him want to rush and tear that person's faceplate in half as the overwhelming feeling of anger overwhelmed him.

As if changing without changing at all, they were again on both sides of the rig, with Nexus locked in a cage and Sun standing tall and noble outside.

“What is the meaning of this? Did you come here to gloat? Destroy me? Or have you come here to 'save' me again? Where is your dear brother who let you do this secretly?” 

Nexus sneered. The glasses he was wearing on his head had fallen off somewhere, making Nexus feel extremely naked. He did not know how Sun had a connection to Dark Sun, nor the absence of both Moon and Solar. Surely, they wouldn't let their poor Sunny face the evil Nexus, right?

Speaking of which, how long has it been since he saw Sun? Nexus has attacked Solar, almost killing Moon. He also made Lunar's power seem like child's play, and made Earth watch as he cut the damn crocodile in half. At first he just thought that this coward was hiding somewhere and couldn't bear to see him.

But it seems Nexus's perceived was wrong.

Sun from the beginning has always been here.

And like him, Sun also changed something.

Sun looked confused by his continuous attacks. His pink eyes(?) looked at Nexus vaguely before giggling.

“Oh God, no. Why should I do that?”

“What?”

“I mean, isn't this who you chose to be? I mean you can choose a different name, but if you want to be a completely different person and create an individual identity for yourself, who am I to stop you?”

Sun's voice is still purely a happy tone. There was a mischievous light glinting in those lavender eyes, a vibrancy Nexus had only seen in the early episodes of both Sun and Moon.

“Even though it's true you stabbed me with your promise and the way you used to be.” Sun shrugged. “But it's okay. I'm just going to keep you for a while to cool you down.‌ Then I'll send you back to Moon and Solar. Those two are so worried. I mean, they were pretty scared you were going to do something terrible and wanted to kill you. And killing people is really not my cup of tea either.” Sun raised his finger and then lowered it in worry. “It's not my job anymore, but I guess I still have some responsibility since we were once brothers, hehe?”

Nexus froze.‌ What was Sun saying?

As if feeling Nexus's gaze, Sun blinked their eyes, their hands waving once more.

“Oh, don't look so shocked. It was you who insisted that I be who you despise.‌ And I know you would rather have Solar to be your brother more than me.”‌ Sun scratched his head in awkwardness.

Ignore what Sun was rambling, Nexus interrupted. 

“What do you mean you don't see Moon and Solar anymore?”

He had never understood the nonsense Sun had said when they were still together, and now it still is the same, especially when what Sun was spitting out now was completely opposite to the Sun he used to know.

“Ah yes… You don't know. Hehe–” Sun laughed nervously, “–well I haven't been with Moon and Solar and Lunar for a long time. I'm with my father now.”

“F–Father? What do you mean?"

This room suddenly became quite cold. Blue was painted on Sun's yellow plastic, turning the animatronic face into something creepy like the wailing ghosts in the horror games they used to play—

“Are you my Sun?!” Nexus narrowed his eyes, because his Sun would never upbeat like this. And there's no way they would be this nonchalant for someone who harmed their family.

“Oh yeah. That's me. But guess I don't care anymore, just like you, Nexus.” Sun said bluntly. The liveliness of Sun's mechanical movements suddenly stopped for a split second, before the dim pink light in that eye lit up once more. The two yellow animatronic hands suddenly clapped together, their shoulders puffed out in a ridiculous pose.

“But we're not talking about me now. What we should discuss is what we should do with you.”

"What? Are you going to kill me too for what I've done? Or do you torture me first.”‌ Nexus sneered. He didn't care too much about his own life or death, other than feeling curious about why the current Sunny boy could be so calm compared to someone who was so used to always frozen in tension like this. It feels like their personality chip has been taken away and reset, and what's left inside the machine is just an empty shell that learns to imitate others.

"Nah~~ It is an immoral thing to do, Nexus. I only do those things during my working time, not during my break time.”‌ Sun shook their heads seriously. “Besides, I promised to find you if you tried to escape, right?”

The words rang in his head. Nexus couldn't help but remember their last conversation in that cage. Suddenly, metallic yellow blocked his vision.

Sun's hands gently helped Nexus stand up and placed him on a soft bed. This inability to move was excruciating, and although he could feel that the movement of his joints had smoothed out somewhat over time, this slowness was intolerable.

“I don't know where to hide you. Creator won't like this…” Sun was mumbling. “-- But don't worry!” Sun's face almost shined, the bracelet replaced the red ribbon, hitting the rattling bell with lively sounds. “Surely among these rooms, there will be a room large enough to lock you up. And believe me when i say, it won't be like the last stuper.‌ I guarantee you it will be much nicer and wider. You can even let the light on.”

“And you'll be there, away from everyone for a while. At least before you cool your bald head enough for Moon and the rest of our family to trust you not to take any more risks.” Sun chuckled.

“And don't try to use Negative Star Power or try to escape. The device that Dark Sun installed in your head not only prevents that, but..." Sun sheepishly rubbed their head and spoke quickly. “–you will go boom.”

“What–?!”

Nexus frowned. Blame it on his system not having finished loading since he got here, but the information Sun gave him was enough to give him a headache. What the hell, did this idiot just intend to bring him back and lock him up forever, as if he were a piece of trash, as if there was something wrong with him? No! He can't end like that! He didn't want it to end like this!!---

As if Sun read his thoughts or he spoke out loud, Sun stared at him, their voice sounded so calm and indifferent, a tone he was so familiar with in Dark Sun was now imprinted on his own Sun.

“Because You are dangerous, Nexus. What you do, what you have done and continue to do so. Because you would hurt my family without remorse, although, it would also be your family, if you weren't such a stubborn idiot.” Sun gently poked Nexus on the head, a very friendly gesture, too careful for one person that intently destroy Sun’s happy life—

“That's not my brother anymore…” Sun's pained voice echoed through the hallway, hitting Nexus's chest with painful blows. An urge made him want to call Sun back, scream that he was sorry, but the stubborn half, the half that he had given up everything for, said that it was better. It would be better if Sun hated him, it would be better if he had no one else to care about.

Because Nexus knew if there was one person who would never give up on him, it would be Sun.

And he hates that. He craves that. He prouds at it.

A mechanical clicking movement was heard from outside as Nexus flinched in surprise. Sun, sure he doesn't care much, but if what Sun said is true then it could be the Creator.‌ And God knows what that old brain would do to him if that bastard knew he was here.

Turns out, Nexus’s guess was wrong. Coming in from the outside, is a shaggy bear with endoskeleton wires stumbling anywhere. Its eyes lit up, a mixture of red-orange and green, staring at the Nexus’s inexistent soul.

"Oh? Is that Moon, Sun?”

“I am Nexus .” Nexus growled loudly. He was so sick of having to correct these mediocrities over and over again. If it weren't for the fact that he was neutralizing it right now, he would definitely blow that idiot's head up to match its monstrous appearance.

“What????? No way!!" Sun's voice almost reached an octave. “You looked wrong Molten, see, there's no one here!! It's just a new… cat I got!!” Sun quickly covered Nexus with a sheet, and even though he could only see very dimly, through the hole in the fabric, he could still see very clearly the way the idiot was puffing their shoulders in a very proud stupid way.

"OH. I got it. The cat is really big.” Molten nodded, surprisingly, he didn't even look at Nexus anymore, just focused on looking at Sun kindly, the wires bent like a cat's tail, hovering around Sun's body. The eyes, which were focused on Nexus a few seconds ago, turned completely to observe the saffron-colored animatronic, causing Nexus to suddenly erupt in an unreasonable anger from nowhere. Surprisingly, Sun seemed quite comfortable when his whole body was entangled in the iron disgusted spaghetti.

“So what are you looking for me for, Molten? I thought the only joy you had was standing in a corner doing nothing?” Sun grimaced, they still stood in front of Nexus, deliberately acting natural. Sometimes they even turned around to shush him down. It felt weirdly as if he was participating in some kind of damn comedy that Nexus had no script for.

“It's funny. It is really hilarious!!” Nexus laughed, his body constantly trying to move, causing the clocks inside to spin around. The heat is on. “You always criticize and show disappointment in me, oh Moon, oh Moon, why did you hurt our family like that but look at yourself ?!!!” His hysterical laughter was too loud, too painful. He tried to look at Sun's face to see if there was any devastation but surprisingly, there was nothing.

“You followed someone who wanted to take your younger brother for a dissection!! What did he offer you??” Nexus grabbed the fabric and twisted Sun's hips, causing them to stumble and fall backwards. He tried with all his might to firmly pin his claws on Sun's shell, to tear that thing off, to show Sun that he should not be underestimated.

But Nexus is too weak. Or his system is still overloaded. He only had enough strength to scratch Sun's outer skin a little before he stopped moving completely.

Sun sat on the ground, groaning pitifully. But there wasn't a single ripple, even now.‌ Sun's lack of expression stunned him to the point where he couldn't speak.

“Are you okay, Sun?”

“It hurts so much. I think some of my screws are broken.” Sun frowned and stood up. They turned towards Nexus, took a deep breath as if to say something before turning away in exasperation.

“Hmm…‌Maybe that will make you less jumpy.” Molten shrugged, ignoring the childishly disapproving look from Sun. “But the Creator called you, Sun. We have a mission to do. Right now.” Molten's monotone voice rang out, causing Sun's body to stiffen. Their naturally cheerful and worried expression seemed to fade away, and for a moment, Sun blinked, their hands touching their head gently in what seemed like something was gangrene inside.

“Um… I guess we should hurry up and not keep father waiting. But-"

“Your cat is safe, Sun. There are no monitoring devices in this room, and it seems that your 'cat' itself emits some kind of energy that prevents any machine from sensing it."

All of Molten's eyes once again stared at Nexus, giving him goosebumps. A look that would have torn him in half if it weren't for Sun's presence blocking the way.

“Oh, you're so clever, Molten!” Sun admired. “Why do you know that?” Their hands swung up, shaking the metal coil that could break their bodies at any moment.

“I don't know.”‌ Molten shrugged again. “It's just there.”

“Someday you will need to give me a real logistic answer rather than I don’t know, Molten!”‌ Sun pouted. They turned to look at Nexus, the bell ringing in his ears.

“Hmm… Let me see… For now, please stay here, Nexus. I... have to go on an extremely important mission for my father! And I guess you need sometime to rest too.”

Sun removed the blanket covering Nexus and placed it on him despite his protests.

He hates Sun. He hated this feeling of helplessness, of being weak again. He ignored the fact that after everything that had happened, it was still Sun who was by his side in the end, it was still Sun who brought such a false sense of peace that level of frustration scared him to death.

Nexus' screams were still there, only fading when Sun closed the lab door. A gloomy moss covered both of them, as they moved across the metal floor in silence. The dark hallway had only the harsh sound of their footsteps hitting the floor, especially Sun, who was still whistling a cheerful tune, hauntingly gliding through the weeping willows as they crossed fast flowing water under the bridge.

Is it the Creator's interest to design the lab as a cheap version of Dr. Eggman video games? Sun doesn't know and doesn't care. It is just…

“Is there something you want to say, Molten?”

The bear didn't ask right away, or be curious about Nexus, which was strange. Especially when they most often are so loyal to the Creator first, and Sun second, simply because Sun is their partner in crime. Sure, they were very close friends, but Molten's loyalty lay with the Creator deep into programming.

It's not that Sun isn't like that, but the code installer in Sun's software is much more disengaged. Surely the terrible pain from not completing the task as well as the brain fog while resting were still there, along with the cruel urge that made him want to please his father. But the lack of a personality chip makes things quite easy for him to handle.

Sun chuckled, wondering if this is him having a more upgraded  version of Forgor than Earth's?

“I won't ask if you don't want to tell me, Sun.” Molten tilted their head, a rope wrapped around Sun's arm, tapping his shoulders gently. It caused a slight feeling of guilt mixed with warmth to spread in Sun's heart before it disappeared, like every other emotion Sun often felt before.

“Thank you Molten. Honestly, I feel a bit worried.” Sun started rambling. “I'm not sure if you would think me hiding the Nexus as a form of betrayal to our father? Because… well I still feel a little guilty about Nexus, you know? About how he became like this? Like, you understand what I mean right? You have to do what you promised, even though it's not your obligation anymore." Sun gently stared into nothingness, the pink color gradually fading back to a fresh yellow color. Molten somehow liked this yellow color better, even their internal programming constantly told them to report this to the Creator if they saw anything unusual in Sun, like this.

“Creator will get mad.” Molten mused. Their creator has never had a good attitude. Sun laughed nervously, rubbing his hand that had been cut off and replaced, a result of failing in a certain mission. Not having emotions doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain. Although, the excitement of not having any negativity in the way sometimes still makes Sun do something stupid, like intentionally disobeying the Creator.

“Yeah… But it's okay! I guess if I do something really good, father will agree to let me keep Nexus without doing anything to him!” Sun snapped his fingers like two guns, leveling them toward Molten's face.

“Even if it means bringing Lunar back here?” Molten asked quietly. They failed twice in this mission, but fortunately Sun made up for it by finding one more shard.

Although this was not enough for the Creator to not break all the pieces of Sun's body in the simulation for hours.

Sun was silent for a moment, then he smiled, his eyes shining lavender.

"Of course! Because that's an order. But..." Sun gently looked down at the dark water surface, flowing slowly under the bridge. “I believe Moon and Solar won't let me do that.”

“Do you still care about them?” Curiosity reflected in Molten's voice, it made Sun's eyes fall into ecstasy...

"I do not know. Obviously I can't feel anything..." His hands suddenly covered his face. There was a shaky sound coming from his voice box as if Sun was laughing and having a panic attack at the same time. “But for them, I still can't help but feel a little care. By some kind of pure instinct or such craps I still feel responsible for them. It was so painful and at the same time… it was nothing…”

“If it was the Creator's request, of course I would still do it without hesitation but…”

“To think in such a twisted way toward my family, I feel like I'm not worthy of them anymore, Molten…”

Sun's smile was too pale and weak, a bland indifference floated in Sun's tone, revealing the fact that from the beginning, all he showed was just a program that his AI copied from what he remembers how he used to act. About the fact that when The Thing finished his job, a part of Sun gradually disappeared. Of course he still tries to make his essence float, but some days, Sun's greatest satisfaction is just to follow the Creator's orders and let the family love he cherishes so much drift into the past.

There was a writhing pain that appeared in Sun's chest, as if it wanted to crush him and carry him away. Not feeling anything made him become so desperate. He doesn't want that, he wants to feel angry, he wants to feel this hatred like before. He wants the inherent anxiety that is a part of him not to be instantly extinguished, he wants his emotions to return to his own control. He wanted to become Sun again, no matter how much he hated his own pathetic nature self. He couldn't stand the false sense of ambiguity towards everything like a storm trying to take Sun away and break it in half—

He wants to care and wants to return to his own family, he doesn't want to be here-----

Sun pressed his face against Molten. The purple-pink light appeared again, making Sun blink.

“Oops… Thinking too much again…” Sun released his hands, his eyes still staring blankly at nothing, unable to let go. It made Molten feel uncomfortable, they didn't like seeing Sun like this, and for a moment, a very ancient image with a nervous but sincere laugh that belonged to the yellow animatronic flashed through the bear's foggy mind.

“You're fine, Sun. You are like my Bonbon. I don't want someone else to be my partner. Not if it is not you.” Molten pleaded, clinging to Sun like he was a lifeline, like Sun is something important.

The two people's eyes stared at each other. Sun smiled hollowly, his eyes glowing sunny yellow before disappearing in mauve. Darkness covered the two of them like a monster's greedy mouth, two lonely creatures that only knew how to cling themselves to each other to survive now.

“You are so terrible to compare me to that bunny, Molten. I am much better than a Bonbon.”

Summary below.

[babyboy555777]

~A CHRISTMAS STORY~

Rafe Cameron Summary~ stressed and needed a relevier. CW: Bath sex, few pet names, hair pulling, fingering, unprotected sex (better wrap it fr)

Christmas time for you and Rafe always felt magical. Late nights wrapping presents for your family, baking cookies for club events, and watching cheesy Christmas romcoms (Even though he hated them) Right now you and Rafe are sitting in the floor of Tannyhill wrapping gifts for a Christmas eve party tomorrow with your family joining you at Tannyhill. As the fireplace let out a low warmth filling the air you let out a sigh and looked over at Rafe. He smiled gently at you and rubbed your back.

"What's wrong?" You shook your head. "I'm just stressed. And I don't know why." You finished wrapping up the last gift and placed it under the tree. "I guess I just want everything to be perfect for tomorrow." He nodded his head understanding. "I get that, but you know they'd love being here even if the house was burnt down." he chuckled, and you just shook your head. "Yeah, I know."

"Why don't we do something to get your mind off it all? A bath?" You nodded your head, and he got off the floor and grabbed your hand leading you to the master bedroom. He told you to sit on the bed while he started the bath. A few minutes later he came back and gabbed you leading you into the bathroom. He stood behind you and grabbed your hips. "I'll be in the room if you need me okay." "Wait." he stopped as he was going to leave. "Just get in with me. It will help." He nodded his head and walked back to you. He looked at you as he grabbed the bottom of your shirt taking it off slowly.

You did the same with him. Once him and you were left in your underwear you slipped your bra off letting it hit the floor along with your underwear. He smirked and slipped his underwear off and leaned in closer to you planting a small kiss on your lips. He grabbed your hand and let you get in the tub first. He followed and sat behind you with your back to his chest. He wrapped his hands around your lower stomach and you both sat in silence. "Is this, okay?" You nodded your head as he rubbed small circles on your hip.

"Good" he whispered. After a moment he moved his hand down to your thigh rubbing it as well. You closed your eyes and let out a small sigh taking in the feelings of his hands. He moved his hand closer to your cunt and moved his hand up and down moving closer with each movement. Your legs squeezed with the dirty thoughts flying around your head. "Rafe..." you let out in a whisper. "Yes?" He spoke as if he wasn't doing anything wrong. Your hips buckled forward. "So needy aren't you." You opened your eyes and watched his hand getting closer. "Rafe please" You let out a shaky breath. He hummed into the side of your neck and moved his hand to your folds.

You spread your legs slightly letting him gain more access to you. He moved 2 fingers and rubbed circles around your clit. Throwing your head back further into his chest he took it as a point to leave marks on you and you folded right here for him. As your hips buckled more and more the closer you got. Rafe watched you in enjoyment as you let out soft moans in his ear. "Ra..Rafe" you let out in ragged breaths. He shook his head. "No not yet." He moved his fingers away from you making you gasp as the pleasure left your body. "Rafe. Come on. Please." He shook his head and moved your body, so you were now sitting on top of him. "I want you to fucking ride me. I want you to use that loss of pleasure against me."

You let a small moan as his dick moved along your cunt. You nodded your head in agreement and moved your hips up so he could fill you up. As his tip entered, you threw your head back letting out a loud moan which made Rafe all the more eager to fuck the shit out of you. When he finally was all the way in, you gasped as your ass slapped against his legs. Slowly you rose and fell.

He grabbed your hips keeping you stable. "Fuck just like that." He grabbed the back of your hair making you jerk your head back. He started to pound in and out of your cunt loud gorgeous moans escaped your lips making him grunt in pleasure. The water in the bath started to splash all over the floor and the sound of your ass smacking against him was louder than ever before.

"Rafe.." you huffed out. "I can't take it anymore." He let go of your hair letting you sit up straight. "No... just hold on." he grunted out. You leaned down as both of your hips moved at a fast pace and started to sloppy kiss him. Moaning in each other's mouth and gripping each other hard. You scratched down his chest and shoulders as he had a tight grip on your hips and thighs. "Fuck. You fuck me so good." you let out a muttered moan. "I know I do. No one will ever fuck you like I do. Will they?" You shook your head as he continued to pound into you.

"No, they won't. You fuck me so good." He smirked. Soon your legs started to shake on top of him and your breaths became heavier. He grabbed the back of your neck making you look at him as you both reached your high. Your mouth went wide as you felt your high crumbling inside of you. He grunted as his last few thrusts were harder and slower. "In me Rafe." He nodded his head, and you could feel him filling you up as you both let out a moan when your high crumbled down. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out of you. He let out a deep sigh as you laid on his chest out of breath.

"Good girl." he rubbed your back slowly and grabbed your hip with his free hand. "Shit. I forgot to wrap a gift." He let out a laugh and you looked up at him with a smile. "Thank you for this. I needed it." He nodded. "Of course, anything for my girl."