#i even have a tattoo of his gem on my shoulder

[sugarsweetvirgo]

Deoxys--The DNA Pokemon

A warm up sketch with sharpies and a random pen I found at Dollar General.

[zvdvdlvr]

from the club

Derek’s wolf whistle made you roll your eyes and try to slip into your seat without drawing too much attention. “Damn, mama,” he sang teasingly, eyeing you up and down.

“Derek Morgan! I ought to-“

“Whoa!”

You glared at Spencer, trying to ifnore the way his eyes trailed over your cleavage. “It’s like you guys have never even been in the presence of a female before,” you snark sarcastically. Secretly, though, you feel complimented that such aesthetically pleasing people thought you looked good.

Emily, Jennifer, Penelope, and Rossi were later than Hotch surprisingly. Aaron strode in next, laying a stack of files on the table. He sat down at his regular spot and turned to make conversation until the other arrived when he turned and saw you. His lips drew thinly over his face as he watched you reach over the table to grab a file. He swallowed and averted his eyes from you when you sat back in your seat. Hotch felt like a pervert and averted his mind to the more pressing matter. Dead bodies, knives, murder, he repeated to himself- trying to draw blood away from his crotch.

J.J., Penelope, and Emily arrived next. “Coffee for you all, my precious gems!” Penny sang, placing the team’s favorite brews in front of them. After she placed yours down her eyes gleamed and she raised her eyebrows. “Did you call-“

“Penelope!” You hollered, turning away from the red-head with a laugh. 

She just giggled and wiggled her eyebrows. As Emily took her place beside you, she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’m no better than the men here, y/n. You look hot.” 

You swatted her away and waited for J.J. to start the briefing. Emily snickered beside you.

There was really nothing professional about being called into work wearing low-rise jeans and a lacey tank top. But it wasn’t your fault- some of your college friends had stopped in the city and wanted to go to the club and wouldn’t take no as an answer.

Rossi showed up right before Hotch said his favorite phrase (read: “wheels up in 30”). You collected your file and started out of the room.

“Good lo- y/n!”

You whipped around to see Penelope rushinf towards you. “Wh-What?”

“You’ve surprised me more times today than I thought possible, darling girl. Turn around! I didn’t know you had ink!” 

You breathed out a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the feeling of her cold fingers tracing over the black ink just above your jeans. “I have some on the mid back too,” you said quietly.

“Impressive,” Rossi- of all people- hummed. “One of my ex wives roped me into getting a matching tattoo with her. The pain was somethinf else and the aftercare was hell. Rookie, here has a high pain tolerance.” He patted your practically bare shoulder and walked by without another word.

Emily purred lowly as she walked by, laughing at the way you flipped her off in return.

“You know, Jeffery Dahmer didn’t consume people that had tattoos… He said that the ‘tattoos made the meat taste like… shit’,” Reid spouted.

The way Spencer paused before saying shit was endearing. Maybe it was your attraction to nerds, but you felt particularly flattered at the weight of his gaze on you. “That’s interesting, Spencer,” you replied quietly. “Did you know the oldest recorded tattoo ink recipe required insect eggs?”

Spencer just hummed.

“I- uh,” Aaron cleared his throat. You stepped back from Penelope’s hands. “I imagine you have more professional attire?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yes, Hotch. I’m really sorry, my friends convinced me to go out with them, you know, and I-“

Hotch chuckled and held his hands up. “It’s okay, y/n. What you do on your own time is your business,” he said.

You wrung your hands. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“No problem, y/n.” Hotch started to walk away and you felt Derek’s arm wrap around your shoulder. “Nice ink,” he called back to you. 

“I’ll see you on the plane, y/n,” Spencer told you with a wave. You smiled back at him and watched him run a hand through his hair as he walked away.

“Lover boy’s gotta thing for you, y/n,” Derek told you, a shit eating grin on his face. “And Hotch too, if I took a guess. I think you made the old man pop a bo-“

“Derek Morgan!”

You shoved him off of you and tried to ignore his gleeful laughter.

[drak3n]

TATTOO ARTIST/PIERCER!CHOSO

CONTENT WARNINGS: unestablished relationship, smut, public sex, mentions of body modifications, cunnilingus, implied blowjob at the end, choso has a prince albert-, tongue- and a vertical eyebrow piercing

sena’s note: i know there’s a lot of tattoo artist choso already but i folded — anywaysss up next is my man gojo 🖤

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who was very well-known for his talent despite being so young; who was always pretty gifted with his hands and used peoples’ skin like a canvas, gracing it with the prettiest designs, simple and small, or detailed and large

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who shared a studio with a few fellow tattoo artists and piercers, but had a goal of having his own studio someday

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who had just finished a 5h back piece on his last client and walked towards the front desk to retrieve his cigarettes and take a break, just for his hooded, brown eyes to set on you

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who saw you standing next to your friend and encouraging her to hand in her data sheet for her tattoo, and who watched as your friend was immediately guided into one of the rooms by a tattoo artist, just to leave you all by yourself

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who came back from smoking minutes later to see you sitting on one of the leather seats, flipping through pages of the shop’s magazine that showed many different designs of tattoos, and also piercings

“you want to get anything done?”

nearly flinching at the cold voice sounding a couple of feet away from you, your eyes met choso’s, who was leaning against the wall, revealing fully tattooed forearms through his loose-fitted t-shirt. he looked very… unique, to say the least.

“oh, no, i’m just waiting for a friend,” you smiled kindly, “she’s getting tattooed right now. think it’ll take some time.” you felt guilty that you stared at the man like he was some kind of alien. his features were just really captivating, the plethora of tattoos peeking out from his short sleeves and from the collar leaving little to the imagination that they continued even beneath that shirt.

his eyebrow tattoo shone under the light, but when he opened his mouth, your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of a tongue piercing.

you suddenly remembered what they said about guys with tongue piercings, and felt deeply ashamed about getting such thoughts about a hot stranger.

“come,” he invited you towards the room he usually worked in, “you’ll get bored here. you’ll get a piercing on the house.” he didn’t know why he offered that. maybe, just maybe it was because he didn’t want the other piercers and tattoo artists to charm you first.

at the end of the day, you left the studio with your freshly tattooed friend and a pierced nose.

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who hoped you’d walk in again, and whose shoulders nearly slumped in disappointment upon seeing your friend coming in by herself a few days later to get her tattoo checked, without your company

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who — totally on accident — saw that the studio had been tagged in multiple stories on instagram, one of which being yours, a spontaneous picture taken of your side profile that showcased the gem he had pierced into your cute nose

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who absolutely didn’t follow you after that, just to see mere minutes later that you did, and before he could stop himself, he followed you back

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who really wasn’t the best texter, which left you wondering if you should even try and talk to him at all; whose eyes went wide in surprise when you waltzed into the studio to get your thigh tattooed weeks later

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who showed you that same day how it felt to get eaten out by someone with a tongue piercing

“c—choso… fuck— what if someone—”

your hand clamped in front of your mouth to stifle a moan threatening to force itself out when the ball of metal on choso’s wet muscle bumped against your bundle of nerves. you were seated on the couch he’d previously tatted on, both of your bare legs thrown over his shoulders as he feasted on your delicious pussy.

“let them,” he spoke gruffly into your cunt as his tattooed hands dug into the underside of your thighs. he didn’t hide the smirk displaying on his lips at the way you drooled from the sensation of his piercing coolly gliding against your wet pussy lips.

“c’mon. use your words. i’ll let you cum if you do.”

“pleasepleaseplease let me cum… please choso.”

“cute. you want to feel what the piercing on my dick feels like?”

➩ TATTOO ARTIST!CHOSO who totally did make you beg on his thick dick adorned with a shiny prince albert piercing, and who couldn’t even be mad at you when you flashed him a tongue piercing you had gotten at another studio to surprise and make him see stars just like he’d done for you

[celestialholz]

The Anatomy of an Outfit (aka 'holy fucking Continuum THE LOOK™)

Y'all know I haven't seen a single STP episode since 2.9. I would rather gargle with acid than go near this show ever again frankly, but, well...

... Good sweet sanctuary what the fucking hell is THIS. :O (@tennant, clearly a fellow appreciator of all things ancient god, must be thanked profusely for these glorious few shots I'm about to show off. <3)

I called this lovely, lovely man returning about ten minutes after he 'died', but I don't think any of us were expecting his outfit to slay THIS HARD when he did. And not only is it the sexiest thing my fortunate eyes have ever had the pleasure to absorb, but it also happens to be very, er... well let's be real here, it's ridiculously Qcard-coded.

Let's break it down, shall we?

We'll start with the obvious: it's maroon and black. This look appears to be a mad fusion of his Encounter at Farpoint judge robes (which is fair, we end as we begin), and his husband of forty years' captain's uniform. That piped shoulder's hugely reminding me of this, in fact:

It's the inverse! You know, the same look, flipped? Because they have perfectly distinct personalities but are also mega gay???? Costume department allies fr.

The delightfully dramatic sash Q's rocking is also interesting - it places maroon at the centre of the outfit, and is its grandest statement, which makes it an excellent example of the importance of the colour to its wearer. This is the clothing equivalent of him having mon capitaine tattooed across his essence, which... well yeah, valid. Canonical facts. It's worn across virtually his whole chest, too, because nothing says 'that's my husband' more than having him literally held against your heart.

It's a different era of captain, across two shoulders - the old teasing, and the new love.

Also, this fucking brooch.

Now, whilst I doubt they've given even John de Lancie a piece made of actual rubies for a fifteen-second scene, the stones here are very clearly meant to evoke them. And rubies are interesting for several reasons:

They're Picard's birthstone, his birthday being July 13th;

They're symbolic of power and protection. What follows is some of the interesting info I've picked up from internet gemology on rubies:

... Huh. Resolve disputes. 'Dispel anger,' when we've seen a darker Q in this series. And 'protective powers'... mm, how many times has Q saved Picard's life again? What did we get up to, six?

... 'Romantic love.' 'Devotion.' Uh-huh.

This brooch is also evocative of the Navaratna, or this thing:

The brooch itself is clearly stylised, but it features eight gems orbiting a central larger ruby (which is meant to be the sun by the way, as though this motherfucker wasn't already evocative ENOUGH of the sun here or here), and is an important cultural and religious symbol in Hinduism. What's it symbolic of, exactly?

... Oh, nothing much. Just... just this.

... Like I said, nothing much, just the whole concept of Qcard in fucking jewellery form.

The brooch's also, as the wife @porgthespacepenguin pointed out, an eight-pointed star.

... Have I mentioned yet that I fucking detest this show? Because I really fucking detest this show.

There's nine rubies on it, as well. Picard's in his nineties.

So, let's recap:

Nine of Picard's birthstone for his ninety years

Sun symbolism, AGAIN

Celestial relationships

Beyond space and time

Romance

Prosperity

Protection

Resolution

So, all that, from a brooch worn over an outfit that looks suspiciously like Picard's, which has a sash across it in Picard's colour.

... And I'm supposed to believe that Qcard isn't endgame? You're really going to gaslight me to this degree right in front of my salad, you absolute bastards????

Guys, when you inevitably wipe this shitshow of a Star Trek from your collective minds like I'm about to do, just... take this with you. Take the fact that everything about this outfit and this SHOW has said all along that Qcard is endgame, until they couldn't be arsed. Until they lost their balls for the pathetic few who might have naysayed it.

Patrick, and certainly John, deserved so much better. I'm glad that at least someone on this set understands that. (I see you, costumers. I see you, and I love you.)

Just going to... just going to stare at the absolute fine-aged wine of a man that is John de Lancie for a moment, before I lose my whole shit. He calms my soul, you see.

HIT THE SLAY KING JOHN <3

[yongislong]

little person.

genre: yuta x reader (but you can imagine anyone in his place of it brings you comfort) angst, sad, domestic, fluff, suggestive ish, sad hours boink, self indulgent

cw/note: mentions of reader wearing makeup but gn, angsty, talks of depression, anxiety, isolation, money issues, college, heavy topics, love can't cure mental illness at all, but it's nice to be comforted yknow? inspired by pull by christian leave and little person by matt maltese, please give them a listen, not proofread...

overwhelmed is an understatement.

with college payment deadlines, chapters due, essays, campus life and being a full time server, it's not surprising how yuta noticed your burn out so quickly.

he would always nag you for working so hard, especially when you downplayed yourself so much. you were clearly burning the wick at both ends yet constantly referred to yourself in reference to being lazy and lacking. he never understood why.

you were clearly working yourself to the bone. even mark noticed when he came over to paint his nails with yuta one night, you busting through the front door with a tired smile and a promise of seeing him next time when you're not so sleepy and smell like stale bread. always waving them off like nothings wrong, while limping to the shared bathroom inside your room on the other side of the hallway. eyes sunken and face pale. makeup smeared. alongside a throwaway comment about how awful a customer had been to you.

but you really didn't think anything was wrong. i mean, you're doing what you're supposed to do. people are going through much worse than you and working a lot harder. sometimes it didn't seem fair that you thought to put yourself first.

yuta made it his mission to make you feel better.

you woke up after him. patting the empty space next to you. opening your eyes and shutting them almost as fast as the light from the blinds ajar burned the edges of your pupils, causing you to wipe along your lash line.

oh my god.

thrashing awake with heavy breaths and shaky palms you slam your hands down on your nightstand in an effort to reach your phone.

12:47. OH MY GOD?!

"oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, no, no, no, this is not happening, fuck..." you muttered, trying to gather your things and running to the bathroom to wash your face and grab your uniform for the night. rushing into the kitchen you see yuta, shirtless, back facing you as he seems busy with a pan in hand. swaying to the music playing from his earbuds. sweatpants low on his hips, tattoo on full display. pink gem belly ring sparkling.

"why didn't you wake me up babe?!? yuta!!!!! uhghhhg!!" you stomped over to him, pulling your hair up in a banana clip while making your way over, tapping his shoulder once you reached him. he seemed equally as confused as you are once he spun around, especially now that you're desperatly tugging your his shirt over your head to change. with a frantic look in your eyes.

"huh? babe, babe, hey.... not that i mind... but chill out, you have a free day today" he smiles softly, letting his hand travel from where he moved his headphones to grip your hips, lightly pulling you forward and pecking your cheekbone.

"what are you on about?? i have lecture today, and i'm already late, can you drive me. please? oh my god im so sorry i woke up late, oh fuck i hope i turned in my lit review last night... was it due... fuck i have to do my quiz today too, i'll get off work too late though..." you muttered under your breath in between gasps and cringes as you go back to trying to slip on your socks and shoes.

"relax, h-hey, y/n, darling, stop... i called your professors and boss last night, you need to rest. and you're going to. i'll help you do something if it's due tonight but the next two days will be spent here... with me!" he coos, a contrast from the smirk falling on his lips as you slow down your movements from where you were perched on the hardwood floor. yuta towering over your figure.

he sinks down on the ground with you, letting the wire from his headphones rest on his neck, the buds clinking subtly, as he moves to smooth his hand over your bare thigh in an effort to ground you.

"yu, what are you talking about, i- i can't, i cant. no! i-" you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. you were freaking out. mostly because you felt bad. and you were fine, right? i mean doesn't everybody feel this tired? you couldn't have had yuta so worried that he took it upon himself to halt you in your tracks... right? you don't even work that hard...

reaching for your wrists, he pries away your hands from your puffy face "yes. yes you are y/n. you're so clearly burnt-out! im proud that you're working hard but you're disappearing in front of me babe... you just seem... so sad..." he frowns, dipping his head low to meet where your eyes stayed glued to the floor, "i can't fathom how you don't think you work hard. you do. and you do so much. i hate it when you say its what you have to do. that you're just doing what everyone else does and that you feel you don't have a right to feel drained. you could've given up a long time ago but you haven't. why are you so hard on yourself? hmph? please don't treat me like a stranger, i want you to be able to be transparent with me. i don't judge and you know that, especially not when it comes to you. so please just forget about everything for a while. i know it's only two days but i want you to relax yes," he ends his monologue with a breathy chuckle. " and ugh, yes, maybe i'm selfish and i do want to be able to wake up next to you again," he says with an eye roll and a smile. you snicker, throwing your head back slightly. he watches you in awe.

"there's that pretty laugh" he whispers, catching your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, as you lower your head back down and uses them to angle you head to look up at him from where he pulled you onto his lap on the floor. you hadn't even noticed how close you both had gotten during his confession. but you didn't mind.

he catches your lips with his as you part them, the beginnings of a response to his words are swallowed up by his mouth as he kisses you like he hasn't seen you in months. you pull away softly, he chases your mouth, leaving two or three more soft pecks on your cupids bow before burying his face in the sliver of you neck revealed from how the collar of his old, worn, shirt lays against your shoulders.

he knows you're thankful by the way he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. the hands still holding your wrists can feel the way your pulse changed when he kissed you, and how it never slowed down, even after he stopped. he doesn't need to hear you say it.

the butter that was once melting on the stove was now long forgotten, the crackles from the gas stove and the rattling of you tiny cat's collar bell created background noise.

yuta lifted his head up from the junction in your neck, smiling drowsily, as if he had drank two bottle of soju. his long hair made purchase over his eyes he laughed giddily though his nostrils.

he stood up pulling you with him. turning off the stove and dragging you back towards your shared room. the mess you had left on the kitchen floor remained untouched. stack of pancakes yuta had made were left sitting on a hello kitty plate situated on the kitchen counter. your shared black kitten followed behind your guys' feet. stretching along the edge of the bed yuta sits you on to remove the shoes you so desperately were trying to shove on. kneeled down in front of you, he kisses your shin, grinning up at you. locking his hands around your ankles, he shifts your legs to lay under the dark velvet comforter he bought.

a comfortable silence filled the room as he shuffles next to you, pressing his face up against your chest and inhaling. pulling his face up with both of your palms on his cheeks, you look at him with a soft smile and eyes glossed over.

"i love you, thank you, you have no idea, you're kind of a genius... very sneaky, it was kinda freaky," you say lowly as you both stifle laugher over the small joke you released.

"i know, i know... i love you most"

i didn't take long after this exchange for you to lull back into slumber. even in your sleep he felt your hands instinctively wrap themselves around his neck, raking lightly through the long hairs near the base of his spine. the legs he'd slung against your hips are used to pull you impossibly closer to his front. he takes his as an opportunity to crane his neck to look up at you. hair sprawled all over the satin pillowcases. a the look of comfort and peace he hasn't seen in ages.

oh yeah, he's a genius.

closing note: omg some of the stuff i wrote reminds me of my other fic :") so apologies if it seems similar LOL also??? no one writes for yuta its insane. anyways i hope this brings somone comfort or enjoyment even if it wasnt requested! i usually dont do closing notes but the top of the post was getting so cluttered TT

[moonchildstyles]

thinking about aster giving angel a piercing 😔 maybe she already has her ears done but she saw a really pretty picture on Pinterest of someone who had a little nose ring or stud and she just wants one 😔 she shows him and is all "look how pretty! isn't it so cute :(" and he agrees, looking over her shoulder at her phone and saying how he likes the stone 😔 then he glances over at her nose and says "i could do that for you, if you wanted" and she's looking up like "what? really? you do that?" and he nods, he says "it's not my main specialty, but I'm good at it" and he's a little smirky as always 😔 and she's a little surprised but definitely thinking about it, but he takes her silence as not liking the idea so he's quickly saying "or if you don't want me to, of course one of the other boys could do it so i could hold your hand" just being so sweet 😔and she says "no, if I got one I would only want you to do it, no one else" and he knows that's the same thing she said about her tattoo but he's still so 🥹 hearing her say that 😔 then she's really thinking about it, she's looking at different jewelery colors and gems really thinking about what she wants 😔 then one day after work she goes to the shop like usual and Harry's just finishing cleaning and getting locked up, he stops to give her a quick kiss then says "I'll be right with you, I just have to grab one thing from the back okay?" and he goes off to get whatever he needed, she's sooo nervous because she knows what she's about to ask for so she's trying to occupy herself by looking at the pictures on the walls 😔 he comes back with a few papers and gets them filed at the main desk then he's heading towards her saying "ready to go?" and she nods absently, not really listening, and ofc he notices she's a little off right away so he says "what's the matter sweet girl?" coming up to stand behind her and look at the pictures she's staring at 😔 (1)

she takes a deep breath and says all in a rush "will you pierce my nose for me?" and she's so nervous she's basically holding her breath waiting for his answer 😔 he puts his hands on her shoulders and turns her around slowly to look at her, he ducks down to meet her eyes and says "of course I will, told you I'd give you whatever you want didn't i?" and she nods, finally feeling brave she looks up at him and says "i want it tonight, please?" and he can tell she's so nervous but he's so proud of her for telling him what she wants even though it's scary 😔 he says "of course, let's go back to a room, hm?" and leads her down the hall 😔he helps her get settled on the chair and says "do you know which one you want? I know you were looking through some ideas, did you pick one out or not yet?" and she nods, pulling up a picture of what she wants😔 he's smiling saying "you're so prepared, you've been ready for this for a while haven't you?" and she nods, blushing a little, but he just says "I like that, it makes my job easier" trying to joke with her because he can tell she's a little bit scared 😔 but he goes to get the stud that matches the most closely to the picture she has, and ofc it's a little one with gold metal and a baby pink stone 😔 he's smiling because that's just soooo her and he comes back in the room saying "like this?" showing it to her and her eyes light up 😔 she says "yes, exactly like that!" and she's so excited 😔 (2)

he's smiling too and he says "okay, why don't you get comfortable for me and I'll get ready on my end?" so she does, and as he's washing his hands he calls over "if you want you can play some music, a lot of people like to do that" so she's going through her phone for a playlist that will be calming 😔 when she picks one and is all settled in, he comes back over and sits on the stool by her 😔 he's talking her through the whole process letting her know everything that's gonna happen so she feels less anxious 😔 he's putting the gloves on and he can tell she looks nervous so he says "we don't have to do this if you're not ready baby, we can do it a different day?" and she shakes her head saying "I'm ready, I want it I'm just scared" and he smiles gently saying "I know, and I think you're very brave" and that finally gets a little smile out of her 😔 then she says "okay I'm ready, can you just do it before I get too scared?" and he laughs again saying of course 😔 he has her lean her head against the chair, then makes the little dot with the marker and holds up a mirror for her to look 😔 she says it looks good, so he gets everything ready and ofc he hides the needle until the last second so she doesn't see it 😔he tells her to look at his face and not his hands, just telling her to focus on his eyes 😔he asks "want me to count?" and she thinks for a second before shaking her head saying "just do it, i don't want to know just do it" so he nods and says "keep looking at my eyes, I promise it'll be so so quick, just a little pinch okay?" and before she can do it she says "wait wait, let me-" and she puts her hand on his knee😔 she says "i know I can't hold your hand but is this okay?" and he says of course it is 😔 (3)

then he says "okay, i want you to keep looking at my eyes and wiggle your toes" and he'll never ever tell her but that's what he tells younger kids when he occasionally does ear piercings 😔 and she does what he says and then he goes for it 😔 she lets out a little whimpered gasp and he feels so bad, he's saying "i know, I know, I'm almost done, just keep wiggling your toes for me" and before she can even take another breath it's done and the needle is out 😔 her eyes are watering so much and she's kind of embarrassed saying "I'm not crying, it doesn't hurt too much my eyes are just-" and he cuts her off saying "that's totally normal, happens almost every time I do one of these" and that makes her feel better 😔 he gets the needle disposed of then says "ready to look?" and she's so excited, he holds up the mirror and he can see how much she loves it right away 😔she's tilting her head all different ways just so in awe of how pretty it looks 😔 she reaches up to touch it but he catches her wrist gently, pulling it away from her face and kissing the back of her hand saying "can't touch yet, we have to clean it off first" and she's a little embarrassed but he says "that's okay, I'd do the same if it were me, it looks so pretty" and she nods, still looking in the mirror 😔 (4)

when he's cleaning it off he sees her wince and he says "I know, promise this is the worst part" but it's over before she knows it and then they're all done 😔 he's so proud of her he can't help but give her a kiss and tell her how much he loves her 😔 the whole way home he keeps glancing over and smiling, when she says "what?" he just grins and says "you were already pretty, but this just- i don't know, it really... it's gorgeous on you" and she's blushing 😔 they home and he helps her clean it before bed, giving her so many kisses and telling her over and over how proud he is 😔 she can't stop looking in the mirror and she gets a little blushy when he notices but he just hugs her from behind and looks over her shoulder, giving her a little kiss on the ear and saying "it's perfect... you're perfect" 😔😔😔🤕 (last part istg this better go thru 😤😤)

wait:((((( while I don't think shed ever get her nose pierced or anything like that this really is so sweet:( like hes just so gentle w her and like asking her to wiggle her toes for him and he'd never ever tell her thats what he has younger kids do when they come in for ears or something:( and stopping her from touching it but its okay bc he thinks it looks sooooo pretty too:(((((((( AND HIM:((( JUST LOOKING AT HER WHILE HES DRIVING HOME;(((( AND SHES ALL SHY AND WHAT:( AND SHE WAS ALREADY SO PRETTY BUT.....SHE JUST....ITS SO GORGEOUS SO PERFECT FOR HER:((((((( im sooooo :( over how sweet he is him literally so sick 🤕 bestie you are....in the hall of fame:(

[gust-jar-simulator]

Okay this was completely self-indulgent and mostly a challenge to myself. Is it good? Debatably. Was it fun? Yes. Written with the intent of being a masc reader, but honestly you could improvise with any pronouns you please.

My basic premise was “the Chain tried charming their way past a guard and he let Four win because it was funny”. Lightly suggestive, but nothing much happens.

This is my first time writing an x reader so I’m just. Flinging this into the void and running. Enjoy.

•⛰️❄️🐉❄️⛰️•

You weren’t expecting him to follow through.

You’re well aware of how to play along with a good joke, and it was funny watching them try to bribe and connive and flirt their way past you. Even funnier had been the Hero of the Four Sword’s double entendre- all serious eyes and matter-of-fact head tilt, I’d… appreciate your discretion with a hand running just so down his scabbard. The one with the ponytail had wolf-whistled, another snapping it’s not like that obviously.

It was even funnier to nod and stand aside and watch the others get offended about it. Still, it was a bit of fun. You really weren’t there to be a real problem.

But that was then and this was now, and the little hero was leaning next to your barstool with the low lights catching oddly in his eyes.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You raised a brow slightly, considering him and the pretty cut of his hair, the rough callouses on his hands. “What kind of drink?”

“Whatever you like.” He tipped a glance at your empty mug, feather earring catching with fey iridescence in the grimy tavern fugue, tunic a little too rich but boots rougher than yours. He was almost half your size, with a voice twice as low, and you caught yourself angling to hear him better. “Sorry my friends gave you a rough time on the road.”

Ah, that’s what it was. You shrugged. “It was funny. If I’d been off the clock I would have flirted back, no harm done.”

He flagged down the barkeep anyway, asking for another of whatever you’d ordered and a glass of the local red, passing over the gems for it with something almost challenging in his eye, daring you to argue.

I wonder how much effort it would take to pin him.

You paused, looked the thought in the eye, and quietly set it aside. The fact that the Hero reportedly had the strength of four men was a fun fact, nothing more.

He looked at you like he was seeing the next twelve moves ahead and he was just ordering a drink, there was no need to complicate things. You cleared your throat a little, fidgeted with the handle of your mug, and he watched you do it.

“You… really don’t need to apologize.” The mug was fascinating to look at. You’d faced bears and hinox and worse, but looking at him right now was a little much. “I-“

“I understand,” he interrupted smoothly, “but I’m not.”

“Oh?”

He grinned back, just the edge of a smirk as the barkeep brought the drinks over, tilting his chin up in a way that made his teeth flash as he passed your drink closer. “Take it as gratitude, if you want. I did say I’d appreciate your discretion.”

“Is that what you’re appreciating right now?” You took the drink, let your own sword-calloused fingers brush past his and watched the clockwork tick of his mind register how much taller you really were. Not Gerudo-tall, but definitely something. The tattoos around your neck ached with the force of folding you in, keeping you safe to handle, but the hero did a double-take when he caught your eyes and leaned in like a moth to flame. You grinned, let the lamplight catch on fangs, and checked him out right back. “My discretion?”

“I. Maybe.” Watching him get distracted was really, really cute actually, particularly because he didn’t look nervous. He looked at you, broad-shouldered and tattooed with binding runes, fanged and scarred, and you quite literally felt the climbing enchantment on his ring flare briefly.

You grinned, and settled in to lean against the bar while his eyes got stuck on your lips. “You can sit down, you know. Or do you need an invitation?” You let your voice dip on it, a touch of suggestion, and watched him very nearly scramble up onto the barstool like someone snapping out of hypnosis. You managed to rein the laughter in to a small huff, but it was hard with him blushing that brightly, taking a drink from his wineglass less for pleasure and more to cover his fluster. Did he not get flirted with, much?

He tucked his hair behind an ear, sharp and functional and slightly pink, head tilting with a flash of pale throat. “I don’t believe we caught your name? My friends call me Four.”

You tipped your mug at him in a half-toast, and gave him yours, letting him stare as you took a drink of your own with a satisfied hum. Glancing back at him at the tail end of a long swallow showed his eyes blown black, mouth a little open as he stared, and it took a very gratifying moment for him to hide it again as you thunked your empty mug to the bar, waving off a refill.

“You…” He took a flustered swallow of his own, fingers twitching against the bar, and had a couple of false starts before finally finding words. “Do you come here often?”

You were tempted to return fire, ask if he came here often when you knew he didn’t, but it wouldn’t get either of you anywhere. So you raised a brow at him instead, let your voice rumble in your chest like dragons’ smoke. “Is that really what you want to ask me, Four?”

“…no. No, it isn’t.” He took half a moment, thinking, something in the set of his shoulders and the lay of his hands becoming more settled, looking into the middle distance. There was a very subtle sigh, and a nod, before he turned back to you with eyes like gleaming emerald. “Are you staying here?”

“At the inn? No.” You didn’t do this kind of thing often, but you had a suspicion that inviting him back to your place might not be the right move. Not with a group of friends like that. So you eyed the door a moment, and then the short hero in the barstool next to you. “But if you are, I can cover the room.”

He licked his lip briefly like someone parched for water, and nodded. “I am. It’d be a shame to pay for a room you don’t sleep in, though.”

That got a laugh out of you, low and rolling like storm clouds, and when you slid out of the bar stool you watched him map out exactly how tall you are again, boots to bracers to the sharp want in your eyes. “With someone as handsome as you inviting me up, I’ve never been more awake in my life.” A teasing smirk, and he answered with an expression like a man starved, a little overwhelmed but not complaining either. Twelve moves ahead, ticking like clockwork behind jewel-bright eyes. “I guess you’ll have to find a way to tire me out.”

He tried to speak. It came out more like an inarticulate noise, and you turned to track down the innkeeper with a quiet grin.

[trev0rc0re]

141 Boys Piercings HC's

Because I got my navel pierced today and lemme tell you I was thinking about posting this all day,, no longer a post virgin officially HEY TUMBLR

warnings: swearing, mentions of a d!ck piercing

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Definitely has his ears pierced from the same day that he got his tattoos. when Si was blowing all his hard earned money on his sleeves, he made a snap-decision in the middle of the skeevy, foul odoured tattoo and piercing parlour. An "ah, fuck it" kinda thing. Adrenaline-drunk and feeling as if his entire arm was engulfed in flames from the fresh ink scratched across his skin, his stupid, juvenile self couldn't help but ask how much the tiny, black studs in the jewelry display case were. The front desk could have cared less that Simon had just gotten a tattoo and was already in pain higher than his tolerance (although, hiding it very well), after all, he had already slammed £40 on the desk. Soon enough, Simon stumbled out of the shop with not only a tattoo wrapped in second skin, but a hole punched into each of his ears as well. He never once regretted it— he never shows his face or head at work so it has never been an issue, and to this day nobody on TF141 has any idea that the Simon 'Ghost' Riley has earrings. He would get another piercing, but nowhere else besides on his ears.

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

Soap is definitely the type to have small and hidden piercings, while also being a little bit more wild and unexpected. He only has one of his lobes pierced, but two or three tiny silver helix rings wind around each of his ears, catching the flashes of gunfire and glow of explosions during missions. He got his lobe done simply because he thought a single piercing would look badass, but also to match with his teen sister, who had finally been allowed by their heavily Catholic parents to get her ears pierced for her birthday. Soap drove her to the parlour and paid for the entire process, then surprised her by paying for himself as well, getting a matching light blue stud. "So I can always remember what I'm fighting for when I'm out there," he had smiled warmly at her, squeezing her shoulder. Over the years one ear piercing would turn into multiple helix piercings, which somehow turned into him winding up with his boxers down on an examining table, white-hot pain from a piercing needle forcing its way through the backside of his tip ripping through his lower body. He swears that the frenum piercing was worse than any kind of gunshot, RPG or flame that he had ever fought his way through, but now, it's his favourite story for shocking the women he drunkenly takes interest to at the bar. Every girl he crosses paths with wants a taste of the cool, metallic buds on their tongue, and practically falls at his feet begging to take a peek at the oddly placed piercing.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

Dude, Gaz is a cool ass guy. Definitely pierced his nose himself in high school with the help of his friends, although they really weren't needed. In the dead of night during a sleepover, using the crudest of tools possible — one of his grandmother's sewing pins heated up with a lighter, rubbing alcohol and a piercing meant for an ear — he somehow had such precision and confidence in his work that the needle punctured cleanly through his nostril without even a snag or drop of blood. He calmly slid the needle out of his nose and giggled as his friends doubled over and gagged at disbelief. Promptly securing the piercing in place and dabbing it with a cotton pad soaked in cold rubbing alcohol, Gaz beamed. "S'pose I should drop the army and do this as a job after year 13, eh?" he stuck out his tongue, mood so elevated that he couldn't even feel a twinge of pain as he twirled the gem in his face. In the mirror the diamond face looked huge and awkward, obvious that it wasn't meant for a nose, and his furious parents ripped his ass to shreds once the sun came up the next day, yet Gaz couldn't find it in him to care about any of it. He had done the piercing perfectly, 100% by himself, something he would never be able to shut up about for years after, even after the hole had closed and healed over. He would love to get his nostril re-pierced, as well as getting studs after seeing the one that Soap parades around with, but he knows its too late for him — the healing process would interfere with his gritty, hands on job. For now, Gaz just admires the piercings of others from afar, and of course, has no shame in sharing his own story from his teens.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

Back when Price was in school, it was unusual for boys his age to even think about getting piercings, unless of course you had been disowned by your estranged family and were going through an identity crisis. So of course growing up in a strict family in the English countryside, Price had never tasted the saline solution associated with aftercare; had never been acquainted with any needles or body jewelry anywhere near him, ever. After joining the army at 16, he had bigger things to worry about than altering his appearance, like moving up in the ranks and staying alive. Only when 141 was formed was when Price realized how many younger men actually had body piercings — he would catch Soap twirling the rings in his ears while going over mission plans in an unbreakable focused state; would silently glimpse at the studs In Ghost's ears as he passed him in the halls (Price had been the only member of the force who Ghost had actually let see his studs.) During the lighter moments of duo sniper missions with Gaz, crawling through the muck of bloody grass and foliage, he would glance at the slight crater in the younger man's nostril, feeling a tiny smile tug across his lips.

"Gaz?"

"Captain?" He mocked Price's tone, smiling as he adjusted his rifle's zoom.

"Care to tell me how you ended up with that hole in your nose, again?"

And of course, Gaz would tell him every little detail for the hundredth time, and Price — filled to the brim with respect and care for his men — was damn content with listening.

I fucking started this at 1 am and finished at 1:45 holy shit. Banged it tf out, so I'm sorry if there's any typos!

~Gemma

[pix4japan]

Sacred Waterfall to Cleanse Mind & Body

Location: Shiokawa River, Aikawa, Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan Timestamp: 17:29 on July 18, 2023 Elevation: 169.3 m

Nestled in the mountains west of Aikawa Town, Kanagawa Prefecture, lies Shiokawa Falls—a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. Accessing the site through public transportation proves challenging due to its remote location, making a car or motorbike the more viable option.

Upon arriving at the waterfall, I found an elderly man meditating under the cascading waters, dressed in a traditional Japanese loincloth called fundoshi. To avoid disturbing or surprising him with my bulky DSLR, tripod, and border collie, I promptly changed direction and explored other picturesque spots downstream of the falls.

After the elder's departure, a younger man in his late 20s or early 30s, adorned with Japanese tattoos (irezumi), made his way to the falls. Undressing, he immersed himself in the cold water for his own meditative prayer. Once again, I chose to retreat downstream.

Unexpectedly, a teenager emerged next, equipped with a change of clothes and a towel. Once he departed, I ventured upstream for the fourth time to capture a series of shots just before dusk settled in.

I later discovered that Shiokawa Falls holds historical significance as the location where a high priest from Nara's Todai-ji Temple enshrined a female deity (Seiryo Gongen) during the Jinki Era (724 to 729). Since then, these falls have been revered as a sacred site as well as a training ground for practitioners of waterfall training (takigyo) and more specifically, Hasuge Shugendo—a spiritual way of life that emerged during the seventh century, blending beliefs, philosophies, and rituals from local folk practices, Shinto mountain worship, and Buddhism into a harmonious spiritual journey.

Takigyo, the practice of standing under a cold waterfall as the cascading water beats down upon your neck and shoulders while meditating or praying. This ancient ritual is believed to cleanse not only your body but also your mind and spirit. With unwavering dedication, it is even said to pave the path to enlightenment.

Visit my blog, where I’ve curated Google Maps links for accessing this location and have provided source references: https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20230718-shiokawa

Pentax K-1 II + DFA 28-105mm F3.5-5.6 28 mm ISO 100 for 1.6 sec. at ƒ/8.0

[mommalosthermind]

16 & 18? :)

@exhuastedpigeon Hi Han!!

16- Do you have any tattoos? If not, would you like to?

Currently I have four: blue rose on one calf, anklet on the opposite side, a tiger lily with dog tags on a shoulder blade, and a kinda mandala-esque piece on the other shoulder with a crescent moon, lotus, and some gems I let my kids pick out. I day dream about plenty more, getting an animal/forest sleeve has been on my When I Rob The Rich list for ages lol

18- Do you like reading? If yes what’s your favorite book?

Oooooh this one is difficult. I love reading. I was the kid reading a book inside the textbook and getting in trouble for nicking books from the school library because I’d gone over limit. I have read So Many books. Aaaand then I found fanfic as a teen. So on the one hand I probably read even more now, but on the other it’s almost never traditional books, whoops. Push come to shove though, for actual books, I’d have to say Tamora Pierce’s Immortals Quartet is what I obsessed about the most. Hilariously, I discovered it because I was given the second book as a gift, purely because it’s called wolf speaker and I was a well known Wolf Child. My first real attempt at a fleshed out OC was in that universe. I can probably recite them tbh, and I delighted in reading them aloud to my own kids.

Found family, teen girl coming of age, learning things that are actually interesting, the ability to speak to animals, becoming a mom to an orphaned dragon, falling in love with a terrifyingly powerful ridiculously intelligent person who is also an adorable idiot, and setting an entire empire on fire and then telling several gods they’re dumb to their faces? Daine is *chefs kiss* fantastic character.

[riverstardis]

reap the whirlwind part one:

it's so weird to think that i was about to do my GCSEs when this aired like that was so long ago wtf??? i also have never rewatched it since

ellissons in the previously... 😡

the strike's getting set up. elle's like "let's hope things don't get too ugly" .... mental smash cut to lily being run over and cal being stabbed😭

cal's working on his sign in the staff room and ethan looks at it and tells him not to give up his day job SJSJFHJ

i'm just gonna try not to think about how cal will be dead by the end of the day and ethan's whole life will be changed forever😢

ethan tries to convince lily to join the strike but she says she wants the same as them she just think it's best to work with sam rather than against him and ethan reminds her how overworked they'll be if the cuts go ahead but she still doesn't agree

ellissons🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 roy and scott making monkey noises at a black guy

if they could just leave roy to die outside the pub that would be great

alicia's still upset about the photos :(

sam says he's got everything under control but connie thinks he hasn't done enough to prepare for the strike

iain recognises roy from last time and tries to get jez to drive instead go in the back with him without letting on but jez thinks he doesn't trust him or something... wellll he'll find out soon enough

oop the locum calls in sick so sam's really screwed now

jez tries to look at roy's shoulder and uncovers his swastika tattoo

"i guess you didn't count on having saggy moobs when you had that one done!" HAHAHAHSH GET HIM roy grabs him and asks if he's queer and jez just smiles and says he's the poster boy for everything roy hates while mickey looks like he wants to melt into the chair

iain tells jacob that it's roy and jacob tells david he's all his and to keep him away from him. idk i think they should just let jacob at him tbh, i mean if it weren't for him jacob wouldn't have been shot

omg cal convinced the locum to pull a sickie. kinda feels like he's setting up his own death at this point.....

"that's the sweet smell of impending victory" :(

sam's called everyone to the staff room to beg someone to cover the locum because he's still refusing to divert

cal: "so you think we're just gonna cave in, is that it?" ethan: "we're not gonna let you sacrifice patient care" love to see them working as a team!! also ethan's getting to look up to his big brother one. last. time.😢 as even though he was the one who took the biggest issue with what sam was doing right from the start, he never would've taken action like this if it weren't for cal's lead🥺

sam goes "with respect, dr hardy, what do you think you're doing by striking? this place doesn't run itself." bro that's literally the point!! if you can't handle being a doctor down because of the strike how are you gonna handle being a doctor down because you fired one??? not to mention that losing a consultant will also impact the junior doctors' training so it's more than just being a doctor down!

sam says he'll just do it himself, cal says he's not ed trained, and sam says he did 3 years in a us emergency room and it's like learning to ride a bike😬 oop then he publicly thanks lily for not striking which she doesn't look too happy about, because she doesn't actually agree with him ofc

now cal's having a go at lily for ruining it for them while ethan tries to hold him back :/

cal going "you won't win this" to sam… unfortunately neither will you :(

cal arriving a bit late to the strike to see ethan and alicia laughing with each other instead of chanting sjsjjf yeahh he doesn't like that poor mickey honestly

iain discovering that it was gem who edited those photos of alicia😬

lmaoo now ethan and alicia aren't even holding their signs they're just standing by the refreshments talking and cal is NOT happy with them saying they trust connie to divert. and then robyn shows up and they rush over to see charlotte and ethan asks to hold her🥺 but cal's like "we're supposed to be protesting! 'can i hold her' this is not a day out!" and ethan just asks why he's being so angry sjsdjdjf

awww ethan and babies >> it's such a shame that covid meant that they hardly ever got a real baby to play bodhi bc imagine what we could've had😩

aw mickey explaining to jez how he's not like his family and he's dead if they find out he's gay :(

"dr chao is worth her weight in gold" SO TRUE

i guess jez is trying to help mickey by going "you're not the first person to come out to their parents! you think my dad was happy? no! but in the end you have to, it's your life!" but like… mate… this guy is an actual neo-nazi, he grabbed you and called you a slur while you were treating his injuries, consider that mickey might genuinely not be safe

iain and lily confronting gem about the photos and her excuse is "ever since i got here she's just been a cow to me!" they do not believe that for a second lmao "alicia?" "yeah! making me look stupid in the shop checking her change, making me look like a fool." "that's it?" "then she got her claws into sam. she's a slapper. can't believe he fell for that stupid airhead." "wait you're jealous? you're jealous of alicia sleeping with sam so you go and do something like that?!" my thoughts exactly iain. kinda ironic for someone who can barely read and write to call a literal doctor a "stupid airhead". someone has some internalised misogyny to work through😬

yikes sam wants to move lily's patient to a corridor while she waits to go up to keller which lily isn't happy about but eventually gives in and now even duffy's questioning her going along with sam instead of striking "where does it stop, lily?"

yikes x2 roy telling mickey "you never take anyone's side against the family, understood? you've got a good heart but it makes you weak." "i know what you are. i know what you do. i know everything about you. i've always known since you were a kid. i spent my life trying to protect you from yourself." "i don't need protecting" "don't push me! you're my son, and i forgive you, because you've got this weakness, and we've gotta work on making you strong." "i'm not weak, dad, i'm gay" GO ON MICKEY!!!

roy grabs him and tells him to stay away then and "there's no place in this family for filth!" poor mickey

imagine being so pathetically homophobic you re-dislocate your shoulder and make your arm go numb lol deserved

lily finds robyn hiding from cal in a store room because he was trying to make her spy on sam and now she's had to with both cal AND sam and moves her patient back to her cubicle and tells sam she's leaving and sam tells her not to get on the wrong side of him and she goes "it's true, you really will stop at nothing." go lily!!

gem driving round a car park like a maniac… well we know how this ends

lily passes the strike to go find gem and cal tries to have a go at her again but she calls him out for making the strike all about him and "is this really about patient safety or are you just trying to teach sam a lesson?"

lmaoo cal goes "she is being ridiculous" and ethan and alicia immediately look anywhere but at him sjsfjf

"look you have to admit-" "maybe it's all getting a bit too personal now" "yeah" "too personal?! that is rich coming from you two!" "meaning what?" "i know what you did behind my back. i found your cufflink, ethan, i know you slept with her. she was seeing me, and you went behind my back. so you can say i'm being selfish or egotistical or making this personal, but you two are the last people who get to call me out!" and so it finally comes out😬😬😬

NOOO LILY!!

she actually just looks like she's having a nice little nap on the floor there😭😭

welp now i won't be watching part two for obvious reasons so isn't it great how lily's fine and then nothing :) else :) bad :) happens :) and they all live happily ever after!

now i'm skipping to rash's first ep/lily's last ep

[tteokdoroki]

MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS. | S.GOJO + R.SUKUNA.

ʚ♡ɞ SYNOPSIS: babysitting ryomen sukuna’s son, yuuji, has its perks— money comes easy and he lets you do whatever the hell you want...including fucking your boyfriend on duty. that’s only, of course, if you let him join in.

ʚ♡ɞ PAIRING: satoru gojo, ryomen sukuna x fem!reader.

ʚ♡ɞ WC: 3.2K.

ʚ♡ɞ RATED:   mature, 18+, mdni.

ʚ♡ɞ GENRE: college!au, babysitter!au, smut.

ʚ♡ɞ CW: please read ! heavy smut, ( characters aged to twenties ), age gap, sukuna is in his fourties, reader and gojo are twenty-one,  dom!sukuna, dom!gojo, heavy!degredation, daddy!kink, slight!cucking,  dub-con, threesomes, oral sex ( female recieving ), impact play, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, double penetration ( kinda ), unprotected sex, creampie.

ʚ♡ɞ A/N: happy friday my lovelies!! i’m back with another wonderful commission from @pan-cakez who has allowed me to post!! this is my first time writing a full fic for JJK and it was super fun, so i hope you all enjoy!!

ʚ♡ɞ masterlist | requests | kofi

babysitting yuuji itadori was easy money.

he was a good kid, well behaved and full of energy—it had taken you years to nail a solid bedtime routine for him, although with him starting highschool...you had little need for silly cartoons and a warm glass of turmeric milk before bed. so babysitting him was easy money especially for a college student— all you had to do was keep him fed and make sure he’d done his homework.

the kid was practically old enough to take care of himself but you already knew why his father, ryomen sukuna, had kept you around for this long. 

sukuna was a dilf by all possible standards, a silver fox with a charming personality and cheeky quips that would have filled your tummy with butterflies if you weren’t already dating someone. you knew that whenever yuuji was dropped off at school, all parents stood a little straighter and smiled a little brighter to get sukuna’s attention.

not only was he built to the level of gods, bulking out any t-shirts he wore with a jawline that could cut gems rarer than diamonds— ryomen sukuna was the best boss you could ever ask for. he paid well, more than a sitter should probably earn, left money for food and sometimes booze if yuuji had an early bedtime. sukuna let you have whoever you wanted over, never a need to ask permission.

he worked late nights at his tattoo shop, black ink spiralled across his arms and his chest in all sorts of shapes, some even peeking out from between stray strands of strawberry pink hair. the times you interacted with him were pleasant, even when he looked down your top and stared at the curve of your tits mid-conversation.

not that you minded, sukuna was hot, you were hot and it meant that fresh hot cash was flowing into your bank account every week. 

you both were taking advantage of one another, you with the ridiculous money you made and sakuna with the stacks of mental porn he had from the sweet little college girl who babysat his kid.

it was a two way street. 

so you tried not to feel guilty for using this man, especially when you were filthy rich and getting fucked on his living room couch. 

“y’sure—fuck baby— you’re so fucking tight, ‘m not fuckin’ you ‘nough, am i?” your boyfriend, satoru gojo asks in a pant, as he pushes his dick, swollen and red through your honeyed folds and prods at your welcoming entrance. “y’so busy with this stupid kid these days—shit,” you straddle his lap, your arousal stained thighs pulled apart due to him spreading on the couch. you’re barely dressed—cotton panties pushed to the side and your shirt pulled up just enough so that your breasts spill against gojo’s chest. he’s hardly in a neater state than you, sweats and boxers hanging low and tucked under the base of his cock— his shirt thrown into the depths of the room, nowhere to be found. “y’sure we should be doing this?” 

satoru’s breath is warm, almost wet against your bare skin as his head drops to your shoulder to hide the rose blooms on his cheeks, silver hair ticking your chin. your hands, which had not been occupied before, walk their way up the plains of his milky and unblemished skin— aside from a beauty mark here or there. you pinch his flesh until it’s red, sighing in content when his hips jerk and nudge his cockhead into your sensitive walls, a strained whimper laying on the sheen of his lips.

he had always been a pain slut. 

smiling to yourself, your hands wander upwards, lazy circles among other shapes drawn onto the back of gojo’s neck, experimentally squeezing your cunt, running like a tap, down on your boyfriend. your hands resume their dance along to the white hairs that curl against the cusp of his neck, tugging on them. “sukuna won’t be back for hours, yuuji, so cute yet so dumb is sound asleep and you and i,” your breathless chuckle ends in a sweet moan when gojo bottoms out inside of you— his hips flush against yours and pelvis pushed  against your sticky clit. “are alone.” your pussy’s grip on him locks like a vice, lubing gojo up with what drips from your stretched hole. 

“oh yeah, you liked that, didn’t you baby? naughty, naughty, bitch,” satoru teases in a whisper, his sapphire eyes darting up to the side of your face, licking up sweat along your jawline as your body flashes with heat. his hips move slowly beneath yours, building up a rhythm planned meticulously to make you ache just for him, your cunt wet and spasming down on him again. “what about the old man? what if we get caught?” 

you’re light headed already, barely having worked for your pleasure as gojo’s girth pushes against the resistance of your drooling slit, eventually accommodating for his length like it always does—you manage to nod, lips parted in a shaky mewl. “love it toru, you know that, keep goin’,” you breathe, feeling like a rabbid college freshman as he picks up the pace, fucking into you until slow claps of skin on skin echoe throughout the dark living room. “you feel so good like that... if we get caught, let the old man watch he’s a dirty bastard ‘n he’d fucking like it— fuck satoru!” 

your boyfriend kneads your meaty ass, digging into the flesh as he drags you back and forth in his lap, the sheer length of his cock pressing against your cervix—pulsing needily against your walls. “moan my name, a little louder baby, you know i like to hear it,” a grin spreads against gojo’s pink lips, watching your face scrunch up and your head shake, your body collapsing like a temple under your arousal. “talk so dirty for someone with a mouth so pretty, bet the old man would love to stuff it,” 

satoru’s hands drop to your hips, holding you high as his own buck up to fill you with everything he’s got, giving you no room to breathe— you’re a rag doll in his lap, letting him fuck you until your pussy’s raw and all you can feel is gojo’s heavy balls against your bottom. 

“too bad, ain’t it baby? i don’t like to share,” 

responding is the last thing on your mind, especially when gojo pistons himself inside you like this— you can only take what he gives you, let his presence overwhelm you and drag you down into a dark abyss swirling with heated love.

lips drag across your collar bones, berry shades left in the wake of gojo’s poison kiss— love marks and proof in court that you are his and he is yours. you hug his head, burying your own soft lips in silver hair— closer isn’t close enough even with him, even with your bodies pressed against one another, your hips grinding in a passionate dance until your lower back hurts and you can feel the core of your boyfriend’s tummy moving with your own.

“satoru, toru, toru!” you cry, teeth clenched as he teases your bruised cervix, balls against your ass and sexes connected by milky strings of your arousal. 

he grips your cheeks between large hands, squishing them together until your eyes water and you’re gasping for air. “shut up, shuddap, shuddap—shit,” satoru groans, maybe even whimpers when you clamp down on his cock from harsh words. “you’re loud, nasty girl, you gotta be quiet…be quiet f’me okay? do you wanna get in trouble or do you wanna cum?” 

“cum,” you drawl, raunchy and breathless, letting your boyfriend take control of how you bounce on top of him— breasts brushing against his bare chest, mouth drooling as much as your abused slit and not a thought in your pretty little head. “wanna cum, toru!” 

gojo grins, arm snaking around your waist to smack your cunt from behind. “gonna make you cum, ruin the old man’s couch with your naughty lil pussy, yeah?” his skin is licked with perspiration, the will to pound you and push you over the edge driving the very force of his body as he fucks you.

you’re almost there, tasting the wisps of your impending orgasm like euphoria on your tongue. 

that is, until, keys jingle and the front door opens.

“you’re going to do what, with my couch?” sukuna speaks first, making yourself and gojo freeze on the couch itself. the father of one fills the room with an unimpressed aura, exuded from his disheveled form.

your boyfriend’s quick to move, throwing you off of his lap onto the couch and shielding your half naked body from the eager eyes of yuuji’s father as you try to calm your racing heartbeat. “the fuck old man? haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” he curses, pulling you close to him.

“satoru, wait—” 

“knocking in my own home? you’re a funny one, brat.” sukuna laughs, kicking the door shut behind him as he shrugs off his outwear— making himself comfortable at home. “haven’t you ever heard of respect?” 

your boyfriend’s body shakes annoyedly, yours still trembling with your ruined orgasm. you’re humiliated that you were even caught like this, fumbling around for anything to bring back your dignity. “s-sukuna! what are you doing back so soon?” you cringe at the high pitch your voice takes, heavy with embarrassment. 

“pizza.” the single father says bluntly, putting away his belongings, gaze locked onto your barely dressed frame. sukuna’s eyes never leave you, even as he sits on his other couch — instantly man spreading across it. you should feel gross for the way he looks at you, like you’re a piece of meat waiting to be devoured...but your tummy rumbles with desire instead. “thought we could order in, since you stayed so late, but i realise now, you had other plans…” 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper quickly, blood rushing through your ears. “we were just leaving,”

sukuna clicks his tongue as you gesture to your boyfriend to hurry up, making a noise in mock disappointment. “no, stay. after all, you do need to make it up to me.” he keeps his voice level, hiding his pleasure when you freeze.

“w-what?”

“put on a little show with your brat boyfriend here, yanno, for ruining my couch…”  your boss trails off, letting his lewd words echo throughout the quiet living room while you stop mid-search for your belongings. “or, you could let me take a crack at making you feel good,” everything sukuna says has you hot at the collar, thighs pressing together while your cunt oozes— it shoots straight to your core, making desire pool in your lower belly. you shouldn’t want this, feel turned on by what yuuji’s dad says to you— but after having your orgasm torn away from you before, you can’t help it.

you’re brought back to reality when gojo scoffs from somewhere beside you—warm hand encasing your shoulder. “old man, ‘m warning you,” the silver haired man growls, bright diamond eyes fading into dark.

sukuna ignores the warning from your boyfriend, eyes falling back on you, testing you. “i know you want me, little girl,” he goads you, calling out for you like a siren in murky waters. “i see the way you look at me, how you pretend not to notice when i touch you a little lower than i should...how you ignore me when i look up your skirts,” he groans, adjusting himself on the couch and you watch ryomen’s cock twitch from under his pants. “you want me, this dirty—nasty— old man, don’t you?” 

you feel hot underneath your collar, whimpering helplessly as your neediness to orgasm increases— you should feel shameful, especially when gojo’s right beside you. 

but you can't, not when everything sukuna had said was true.

satoru snarls possessively, shielding you as if to cover you from the eyes of the devil. “i’m taking you home,” 

“so fast, brat?” comes sukuna’s malicious chuckle as he spreads himself further, palming his hard on to the delight of your watering mouth. “are you mad because your little girlfriend acts like a whore or because you’re afraid i could fuck her better?” 

that flips the switch.

satoru chuckles darkly— sending another wave of heat down to your fluttering core. “y’know what, baby? let’s give the old man a little treat. only god knows the next time he’ll get laid,” your boyfriend decides, amusement sticking out at the end of his words. “i trust you, go on,” he whispers to you, sending you a warm look that turns your insides to mush.

“excellent,” sukuna hums, grin returning before he pats his lap. “come now pet, come sit on my cock. crawl to me.” 

your move before you can stop yourself, gravitated and crawling towards sukuna— until he manhandles you into his lap, tugging down his pants. he positions you like gojo once had, only this time, your back hits ryomen’s firm chest— giving him full access to your body. hands laced with jet black ink, then settle firmly on your hips, tearing off your panties so sukuna can grind your bare cunt against his weighty girth.

you can feel every vein press along the length of your slit, making you jolt in his grip as his hands ascend on your breasts and curves alike—pinching them raw. “you’re good at this pet, filthy even,” the father of one breathes into your ear hotly, pushing his tip through your folds and letting it bump your aching clit.

“mnno, toru—” you gasp at the feeling but can’t help but call for your boyfriend, knots twisting in your stomach. “wan’ toru too…”

“that’s it, dirty girl...call out to him while your daddy fills you up,” sukuna turns to gojo next, finally pushing into your sopping pussy and filling you up to the brim, he tweaks your nipples—tugging at the hard buds to make you wiggle your hips over his. “look at that, ain’t she a perfect fit, brat?”

“you’re sick old man,” gojo can’t help but laugh, watching you—his girl— struggle to sink down on a dick that isn’t his. sukuna is thicker where gojo is longer, fat and ballsy as he stretches out your gummy walls and hooks against your ribbed walls. you can’t help your high pitched whine as your boss starts to fuck up into you, his muscled arms hooking around your thighs to keep you spread and on display. 

god, it hurts—it hurts so good to be used like this, squirming above sukuna’s cock like a desperate little thing, fucking him back until your pussy’s foaming at his base. when you tear up, satoru finally makes his way over, cooing over the obscene slaps of sukuna’s balls against your swollen clit. “baby, ease up, you can’t take him all the way if you’re tight like that,”

your cunt creams, an embarrassing amount, at this— making the two men manipulating your body, groan deeply in unison. with a hazy head, blurry vision and limp body,  you watch as gojo sinks to his knees before your wet cunt. “toru…”

“trust me baby, daddy won’t let anything happen to you,” he shushes you, sapphire eyes locked on yours, lips now on your clit and sloppily kissing the puffy bundle of nerves. electricity jolts through your veins, tingles deep inside your sex—the feeling only amplified by the slow strokes, weight behind them, sukuna gives to your abused cunt. between gojo’s tongue flicking at your leaky pussy and the heavy cock that bruises your cervix, you become overwhelmed, spasming and drenching him in your juices until even he is struggling to breathe.

“stop that, brat—fuck off,” sukuna chokes on a moan, rolling his hips up and into yours and coaxes more simpers from you. “your filthy slut’ll cum soon if you keep that up,”

gojo breathes heavy into your swollen lower lips, entertained by the way you drip down sukuna’s balls so much that your juices run down to his asshole—you milk him so much just from having your princess pussy played with, riling gojo up as he humps the floor. “the thing about my girl, old man, is that she plays favourites,” he spits onto your hole, watching your hips jump up and squeeze sukuna hard. “daddy’s her favourite, i’m her god. i’ll make her cum before you can even spell your name,”

you twitch and sukuna speeds up, forcing his shaft deeper and deeper until you’re dumb and drooling. “wanna bet?” he asks.

“don’t need to, got her right on the edge.” 

it’s an all out war from there, satoru slipping his pink tongue against your ravaged, puffy pussy as ryomen pumps himself in and out of you— both at unruly paces. you feel hot all over, sandwiched between baritone moans and syrupy precum that smears your insides, accompanied by thick trails of saliva lost within arousal that adds shine to your folds.

shakily, your fingers curl in strawberry and silver locks of hair— yanking them tight when sukuna’s oozing tip smashes against your g-spot and satoru sucks on your clit just right. “s’too much! hurts, s’too much!” you drawl, eyes crossed, spit dripping from your mouth.

you look like a dirty slut, you feel like one too.  

“does she ever shut up? got a mouth on her that runs like a whore,” ryomen grunts through gritted teeth, focused on using his dick to abuse the pleasure button deep within your cunt— determined to make you cum first. “shut the fuck up, keep your hands to yourself and take it,” 

he growls the last part, chest burning against your back with rage as he scoops up your wandering hands and squeezes your wrists together.

“why? afraid her dirty mouth’ll make you cum before she does?” gojo teases, words muffled as he tongues where yours and sukuna’s body’s meet— tasting the mess that gathers there. “leaking so much princess, so fucking messy,” 

truth is, you can’t tell, succumbing to both men while gojo smacks at your sex— toying with your clit and sliding his fingers into you alongside ryomen’s cock— massaging your walls where the other bruises them. you’re so dizzy, between their words ‘look at this mess, you’re so nasty,’ and ‘what a dirty bitch you are,’— you’re not sure if you can last anymore.

“stop, it hurts— toru! kuna! it hurts,” you blubber, overstimulated. you don’t want them to stop, but the pain of holding back your orgasm makes you feel so on edge. “stop!” 

“yeah? then you know what to do. cum angel, cum f’me,” satoru cackles, smacking your sex repeatedly as you flinch. sukuna follows his lead, slapping your breasts as they bounce, mumbling nonsense about you cumming for him instead.

then you’re hurtling over the edge, squirting as you let go and gush over fingers and dick alike. your body is wracked with trembles— forcing sukuna to breed you with his hot seed, spewing out of your hole as you gush and gush, blood rushing through your ears. the very sight makes gojo cum too, staining his pants while white pours from your cunt along with your slick.

“fuck—!” sukuna chokes out. “fuck that was good,” 

“yeah it was,” satoru laughs breathily, kissing your shaking thighs. “but who made her cum?” 

both men look down to you, passed out and oozing cum— both of their cocks twitching to life again. “i’m not too sure, let’s call it a draw.” sukuna grins evilly.

“round two then, old man?” 

“round two, brat.”

[lifesteal-headcanons]

- each person has their own way of seeing how many hearts they have, and most people try to cover it up. some can easily hide it, some can't. gonna kinda just state where the heart counter is and how they hide it :D

also everyone's heart counter is in a different place because why not (also causes chaos when people don't know where their heart counter is 😭)

: ro has a heart collar that always displays his heart count, it cannot break unless he is at 0 hearts. they hide it with their jumper.

: branzy has a tattoo on his left palm below his middle finger. he usually covers it up with a glove so people can't see it.

: parrot has the counter on his cheek, he tends to just put a bandaid or something over it.

: clown's counter is on his forehead, which is why he barely ever takes off his mask (poor dude has to get a mirror whenever he wants to see it).

: mapicc's is on the back of his neck, which is why he kinda just grows out his hair (so you can't see it that well).

: subz's counter is on his chest, which is the easiest to hide in his opinion.

: leo's is displayed next to his name (which is on the very bottom of his face), leo hasn't found a way to hide it. also unrelated but i headcanon leo to have a microwave for his head and no i will not explain why (the 'leowook' on his head is just below the screen that allows you to see inside the microwave)

: vitalasy's is under his chin, which he cant hide that well. usually people don't see it though since it's in an awkward spot.

: zam's is on a gem at the front of his crown (which is a part of his body. guess he's just that much of a prince that his crown is literally a part of him). zam doesn't hide his, not because he doesn't know how (which he doesn't), but because he doesn't want to hide his crown.

: woogie's is just above his right eyebrow, which is why he grew his hair in a way that almost covers his eye.

: rek has his counter on his elbow. it's quite easy to hide since he always wears a jacket or honestly any clothing that covers it.

: reddoons, in my opinion, has the most interesting place where his heart counter is. his heart counter replaces the iris on his right eye, and the actual counter is his pupil. he cannot see out of his right eye because of this. he covers it with his glasses.

: ash's is also quite interesting to me, as it constantly changes locations since ash is nothing but a result of a virus from a piece of malware (i dont ever choose favourites but this is genuinely my favourite headcanon i have about any lifesteal member). he has no easy way to cover it since it's always moving, and it annoys him a lot.

: spoke's is in the middle of his back. he hates it a lot, and he sees it as 'inconvenient' since it's there and difficult to see. he envies ash and rek since theirs are usually easy to see.

: pangi's counter is on his eyelid. he saw how reddoon's covered his and began also using sunglasses to cover his own counter as well.

: spepticle has his counter on the back of his ear. he probably doesn't even know it's there bc he always wears his headphones 😭

: clutch's is on his shoulder. he doesn't really care about covering it, but he still does.

: cube's is on one of the puzzle pieces on his face (he's like one of those eraser puzzle cube thingys if u know what i mean). he didn't know about it until around 2 months into being on the smp, and most other people also don't know where it is because he can move it.

: vortex's counter is on his collarbone. it's usually kept hidden with his jumper/hoodie (i literally dont know what it's called).

mystic has her counter on the knuckles of her left glove. because of this, she can no longer take off her glove as it has become a part of her (similar to how zam's crown is now a part of him). she doesn't bother hiding it.

: terrain's is on the lower back of his right leg. he wishes it was in a different location that was easier to see.

: poafa's is on his thigh. he found out by accidentally cutting his trouser leg with his sword, which made the counter visible.

: don's is on the side of his neck. he didn't know about it until the area around it started to hurt a lot (guess that's how well hidden it is)

: planet's counter is on one of the many stars that can appear around them (meaning that, similar to ash's, it's constantly moving)

hshsh thats about it for those ones,, also i have a few more if u want me to send those in another ask- -👁

holy shittttttttttttttttttt /vpos

[ink-and-dagger]

Drink With Me: favourite moment countdown✨

Chapter 9🥃

This one was always going to be an impossible choice to make. I've been really strict with favourite moments in the previous chapters because I knew I wouldn't be able to help myself on this one 🫣🤭

In terms of favourite moments, this chapter has so many gems... so I've picked five *Hides face in shame*

I'll stipulate my reasoning before each one.

They always say that fanfic writers should write primarily for themselves. And to be honest that’s exactly what this chapter is. It’s extremely self indulgent. I wanted to get drunk with the Eye of Zaun. And therefore I did. Vicariously. Through Astrid.

Honourable mentions go out to:

"Do you fancy a Slow Screw?" / "It sounds a touch too sweet for me, Darling. I tend to prefer something a little harder."

Truth or Dare

Rose Hip Bone Tattoos🌹

Silco paying Astrid a genuine compliment, and the ✨soft moment✨ that follows

Astrid's word vomit about how much Silco means to her, and the sexual tension that follows😈

This first moment I chose purely because it makes me laugh every time I read it (Yeah that's right, I think I'm hilarious)

“Go Fish.”

“That's not— We’re not playing Go Fish.”

You frown at the cards in your hand, “We’re not?"

Silco shakes his head – swaying the loose strands of dark hair that refuse to stay back, no matter how many times he brushes his fingers through them. In fact, the repeated, clumsy movements are probably making it worse.

“Huh. S’no wonder I’m losing so bad,” you slur, giving your cards an accusatory glare.

“You’re losing,” Silco says slowly, around the smouldering cigar in his mouth, “Because you have the worst poker face I have ever seen.”

He punctuates the statement by laying down a fan of cards whose designs are all blurry and same-y looking to you.

You make an indignant noise, and select two eights from your hand, throwing them down triumphantly onto the sofa between you.

“Bingo.”

“That’s not even a card game.”

“Wait, what’re we playing again?”

“Poker.”

“Ohh,” you shake your head despondently, “Silco, I dunno how to play poker.”

“Yes you do. You were playing just fine before.”

“I think the rules fell out of my head.”

“I think you’re just sick of losing.”

“Pfft, ‘at’s pish-posh.”

“Show me your hand.”

You shake your head childishly and clutch your cards to your chest.

“Show me your hand,” Silco repeats, pointing a finger at you. He’s clearly trying to be menacing, but it’s kinda hard to be scared of someone who can’t quite hold their finger still.

You hold up your right hand and he snickers. He leans forwards and grabs hold of your left wrist, forcing it down so he can see your cards.

“I win again,” he announces unnecessarily, eyeing the useless jumble of black and red in your hand, “Drink.”

This second moment has become a DWM classic, and it would have been downright crimbinal of me to exclude.

You continue to rake your gaze over him as he frowns at you. Gods he’s so thin. And yet still perfectly formed for his frame. You’ve always enjoyed the way his vest accentuates just how slim his waist is, elegantly tapered beneath a broader chest. And you can tell that his legs are strong and wiry thanks to the way those trousers cling. Everything about his body is just so… what’s the word? Svelte.

“Pardon?”

“Hm?” You hum, raising your eyebrows high enough that they also drag your gaze up from his thighs; like a puppet on a string.

“You said ‘Svelte’.”

“You know, it’s rude to listen in on other people’s conversations,” your shoulder bumps off the back of the sofa as you sway into it, and you scowl at the plush leather as though it were someone who'd knocked into you on the street, and not an inanimate piece of furniture.

“What’s going on in that funny little head of yours?” Silco muses, leaning towards you with a curious little smirk.

“Okay okay,” your hold up your palms in defeat, “ya got me. I was thinking a thought, that—” you cut yourself off with a giggle, “No no I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart,” his voice lilts playfully as he scoots himself closer and attempts to prise away the hands that cover your face.

“Nooo I’m shy.”

“That certainly isn’t true.”

He pulls your wrists down and you giggle again when you come face-to-face with his impish expression. It’s inadvertently adorable for the way it pronounces his precious little overbite. His eyes scan over your face, lingering for a second on the lip that you’ve pulled bashfully between your teeth.

“I was thinking,” you bobble your head playfully, as though nuzzling at the thin air with your nose, “that out of all the crimes you commit, the baddest one is that you’re crimimanlly handsome,” you pause, and frown, “Is that— is that the word? Crininally? Crimbin—”

“Criminally?”

“Yes. That’s the one. You, Silco, are crinimably handsome.”

If we hadn't already established that Astrid is a chaotic, gutsy Queen - then stumbling like a drunken baby gazelle around Silco's bedroom whilst he's literally standing right there would have done the trick.

There’s a dresser against the wall beside the bathroom door which seems to house an assortment of items upon its surface. A small box of cufflinks and tie pins, a makeup compact, a few combs and some hair pomade to name just a few. You spot a fancy looking bottle and wonder whether it’s the cologne he wears all the time.

You throw a conspicuous look over your shoulder just to be safe, before pursing your lips and reaching for it. You give it a little sniff. Oh yeah – that’s the stuff. You spritz a bit on your wrist without thinking and then immediately panic. You flap your arm around in the air, like shaking it is gonna get it off you. If anything, it just wafts the smell around even more.

You scrub your skin on your trouser leg, and thrust the bottle hurriedly back onto his dresser. But in your haste you knock over several more items. Your face contorts in panic as you scramble to right them all, but only succeed in making a bigger mess.

There’s a suspicious call of your name from the office.

“Coming,” you sing, holding up your palms at the inanimate objects on the dresser to signal them to stay put.

You’re about to leave, but a flash of gold catches your attention, and Silco’s warning leaves your mind entirely as you realise what it is you’re seeing, tucked away towards the back of the dresser. Quick, clipped footsteps approach the bedroom in response to your loud, delighted gasp, and the door opens behind you.

You spin around; a manic grin plastered to your face.

Silco’s irritation is tinted red by the round sunglasses you’re now wearing.

“I told you not to touch anything.”

“I didn’t touch nothin’.”

“That’s a double negative, dear.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it Silco?” You titter, venturing deeper into his room.

“What are you doing?”

“Esplorin’”

“There’s nothing to explore in here.”

“Oh-ho, I beg to differ.”

“Come on. Out.”

You sway over to his armoire, “How many skeletons are in here I wonder?”

You fling open the doors and recoil with a short, sharp scream, then pout in disappointment, “Not even one? I’m surprised.”

You run your fingers along the neatly hanging garments. All of them sophisticated, soft to the touch, and expertly tailored in blacks, golds, reds and dark purples.

Silco strides across the room and makes a grab at you. But you flop back onto his bed, safely out of his reach, and giggle as you roll clumsily across the sheets to the other side, where you wobble back to your feet again.

“I didn’t expect to be baby-sitting a toddler tonight,” Silco grumbles.

You pick up a book from his night stand and open it up to a random page, “History? Bleh,” you chuck it back down again.

Silco appears at your back, attempting to herd you out of the bedroom and into the office. You somehow manage to slip nimbly beneath his outstretched arm and totter your way back over to his dresser. You reach to open the top drawer—

“Don’t even think about it.”

You hold your hands up in surrender as Silco stalks towards you again, crowding you back against the dresser so you can’t get away. He looms over you; a towering shadow of vexation.

“You’re incredibly tall. Has anyone ever told you how tall you—wheeeeee,” you squeal with delight as he scoops you up, one arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back, and physically carries you out of his bedroom and back into the office.

“So strong,” you swoon.

The corner of his mouth quirks.

“So strong and handsome,” you smile dopily up at him and smooth down the collar of his shirt, “My Silco.”

He slows to a standstill beside the coffee table; adjusting his stance when he wobbles on his feet slightly due to the alcohol. He looks down at you, limp and fawning in his arms, and his brows pinch together, just for a second.

And then he dumps you unceremoniously onto the sofa. You squawk your displeasure as you bounce slightly on the cushions and almost roll right off it. He pushes your boots out of his way and sits back down, angling himself towards you and fixing you with a stern look.

A quick, soft interlude. I love this tiny interaction. It's one of my favourites and very important to me as the author. I think it's an incredibly pivotal moment for Silco to admit such a thing.

Your voice is quiet.

“Silco?”

“Hm?”

“Jinx told me that you’re lonely… is it true?”

He doesn’t answer for several long moments. Then, tentatively, he wraps his other arm around you and draws you close against him.

“No,” he murmurs softly.

“Is it because you have me?”

Another long pause, before, “Yes.”

Finally, I have Silco say a lot of horny things in this fic. But I think this one is a contender for the hottest line of dialogue. (not the first line obvs lol. You know which one I mean.)

“There’s a bin right here. If you throw up on my rug I’ll have you skinned alive.”

“Would you do it yourself?”

“Yes.”

“That might’nt be so bad then,” you mumble sleepily, nestling down a little further into the sofa cushions.

He only hums, and adjusts the fabric that’s covering you.

You giggle, “Issa scary, big bad Eye of Zaun tucking me up in bed?”

He only rolls his eyes and makes to leave, but you grab his sleeve, forcing him to pause. You smile sleepily up at him.

“Do I get a bedtime story?”

“No.”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?”

And simple as that, you’re back on secure ground. The flirtatious teasing that had once begun as its own dangerous game, now seems to act as a safety net between you – protecting you both from the real peril at play.

The corners of his mouth pull upwards into a small, dangerous smile, and he leans down towards you. But his lips bypass yours entirely, going directly to your ear, where his words curl against your skin.

“You’ve been extremely naughty tonight, sweetheart, and I’m afraid I only kiss good girls.”

Your chuckle is husky and low, and you turn your head, whispering back in his ear, “I don’t believe that even for a second.”

He neither confirms nor denies – simply pulls away and smirks down at you.

“Go to sleep,” he says pointedly.

“How comes you always smell so yummy?”

“Go to sleep.”

[muffindaddystyles]

prompt 1 with older brothers best friends!harry 👀

1. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

8. “I said stop staring at me.”

23. “I have a name and it’s not sweetheart.”

Third wheeling could never be fun. Not when you’re basically not even a wheel but an invisible person on a vacation watching couples kiss and yada yada.

“For fuck's sake.” Y/N grumbles changing a side snatching the blanket that got stuck under her and sandwiches her face into a pillow when she hears the steel roof atop her creak furiously accompanied by high pitched obnoxious moans.

Y/N's brother brought her along to their Italy trip, his wife’s bestfriend and his own bestfriend tagged along too leaving only Y/N to grump about their wild sex rendezvous.

She’s sleepless, homesick and probably about to get a stomach bug for living in yacht for four days atleast!

What’s so fun about jiggling in your sleep? None perhaps and the waves crashing at night that threatens you to swallow you down to the pit of ocean --- my pal, nothing is entertaining about it. Atleast for Y/N. She’s more of a hill station going person with her pup Frankenstein that oogles out from his small globe like window, comfy in his lil bag that Y/N moves around on her shoulders everywhere.

When the fracas of whatever’s taking place up doesn’t comes to halt, Y/N had enough, she isn’t very versed in coping with such situations since her dorm-mate is very nice.

So, she’s throwing the lid away to pop her head through the square like space and spreads her elbows up the roof, “Aish.” She immediately covers her eyes upon the sight of his brother and his wife doing it.

Their expressions comically panicked as they embarrassingly scrambles to clutch the flimsy sheets over them.

“Who does it all naked under an open sky?” She squeaks out, feeling her pulse tick and she peeks out towards the darkness from the slight gap of her fingers which are barely helping her avoid the scene that’d haunt her for life.

“Them bunnies and monkeys, ‘n many of our kind, Sweetheart.” She rolls her eyes at the familiarity of deep slow rumble that’s a bit slurred, probably from the Tequila they took with them. The voice never fails to froth bubbles in Y/N's tummy and it always involuntarily makes her nails dig into her palms.

Harry and Tina’s bestfriend went out to roam around Italy, or they told so and Albeit Y/N very well knows their intentions were more to exploring the city she didn’t butt in.

“I’ve a name and it’s not, Sweetheart.” She dismisses him with a grumble and his smirk shines through the shadow aggravating Y/N to an extreme she slips down shutting the door (like lid) at the them.

Harry Styles. Y/N's brother’s bestfriend. He’s everything Y/N loathes about. Bright green eyes, silken features and that dopey pearlish smile that makes everyone fall in love with him in nano-seconds.

To Y/N. He is an incubus. A witch that allures people without even knowing.

He’s a narcissistic asshole and Y/N's bad boy dream, unfortunately.

She hates herself for having a puppy crush on him for years now.

That friggin, Asshole.

He’s with everyone but her. It seems as if he’s getting stung by bees upon the mere closeness between them. A lamb ready to bite her down his stomach if she steps a foot near him.

At the moment when she’s sitting with her knees pressed to her chest, swollen eyes and puffy lips from not getting sleep last night.

She’s really hating that Harry looks so hot from the swim he just took as he dries himself sitting opposite to her. The droplets twinkling on his tanned thick body, his trunks wrinkled and bunched up into his thighs baring the tiger tattoo on front, his hair wet and oh so fucking tug-able – Y/N feels like Rachel from friends thinking all of that.

“Stop staring,” She mutters out loud when he wouldn’t stop licking the saltiness from his pink bottom lip keeping his intense gaze on her.

“What did y'say?” He pretends that we too engulfed in something else.

“I said stop staring at me.” Y/N grits. It’s annoying because it’s making her belly feel funny and loopy.

“The hills behind y'are just s'admirable.” He elevates his shoulders a bit panicked from inside and Y/N forced herself to not to twitch her eye when his chest muscles flexes due to his action.

Bamboozled she takes a glance from her shoulder to where he diverted his sight once she caught him. Her nose scrunched up and chin butted in disgust at the scenery, “That’s literally a heap of dead fishes!”

“Better than starin’ into a dead soul.” His lips down turned into a careless grimace and Y/N gasps out loud pushing the strands of her hair sticking to all of her face because of the breeze gush, “Why would you say that!?”

“’Cos you’re so mauve, that’s why?” He just wants to take a piss out of her. Nobody’s around and he’s finally getting time to talk to her even if it just to sit cross legged on her nerves and sip tea.

He’s actually lying. He thinks she’s more than mauve. She’s all those colours that usually macarons have, all those hues that butterflies wings have and all those tinctures that one find in gems then keep them safe.

She’s the colour he misses in his life.

“And you’re so fucking blue!” She grumbles and that slithered a deep wicked smile on Harry’s lips, “Like this deep ocean yer afraid of?” Her eyes widens at that and she almost lunges on her knees.

How did he know? Ofcourse, he'd. He’s everywhere. In every damn picture of wherever they went for recreation.

“I’m not.” She scoffs, her tone inconvenient and hazy as she shrinks into herself.

“Then take a dip,” She wishes that she could wipe that beautiful stupid smirk off his gorgeous stupidly lame face.

“Kiss my ass.” She spat out throwing a cushion towards him that lands on his lap, “I’d love to.” He barks out a laugh that rings through the waves.

“You’re such a stinky asshole.” She hits him with another that dumps against his chest, “Ow!” He feigns hurt with ridiculous comical expressions and throws the cushion back towards her which she successfully dodges, but, it falls behind her into the water.

“Shit.” She complains ducking around the edge of the yacht and stretches her arm to the plausible extent to grab the floating cushion.

Though when the tips of her toes leaves the seat she was on and she’s bending too much for her own sake Harry’s standing upright, “Hey stop —-" But. It’s too late as with a high pitched squeaky shriek Y/N's rolling first and falling into the water leaving Harry frozen for a second.

Panic chokes her throat and she moves her limbs around everywhere splashing water vigorously. Mouth gasping for oxygen but all that comes is salty water filling her mouth and lungs too, maybe as she sinks deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, Y/N!!” He shouts out jumping to save her immediately knowing she doesn’t know how to swim and he’s wrapping his palm around her neck and pulling her from her waist to himself under the water as she watches him with frightened fading eyes.

He comes back to surface quickly and presses her to his chest. She too clings to him for dear life feeling herself drift into a state of unconsciousness and hard to breath while he grabs the deck and lifts her with himself to it.

He doesn’t risk a chance and lays her limp body down and clasps his hands together pushing them against where her heat beats feebly, winces when she spurts out water painfully.

“Baby...fuck.” He pats her soaked pale cheek anxiously when she still remains unresponsive to him, breathing wearily so he does what has to be done.

He grabbed her chin, squished her cheeks making her lips pucker out and wrapped his mouth around hers sucking the water out and spat it out once his mouth was full.

His eyes slip shuts and he slumps with relief when Y/N coughs out loudly into his chest and he brings her into him murmuring assurance into her wet hair.

“You’re okay darling,” His whisper wavers from the trembling of his lips and his fingers divots into her softest of skin when he hugs her tightly, “’M sorry ‘s me fault, Sweets.” He rubs the bridge of his nose to take the sniff of her scent to calm him down and she shakes her head unable to talk, hands bunched up against his tummy.

“You should rest, yeah?” His gaze soft with care and it’s baffling for Y/N that he ever had this side too. Before, she could be on her feet he slipped his strong arms under her and hoists her up and into him without any trouble.

If Y/N wouldn’t be feeling very droopy and breathless she sure would have fought with him, maybe blushed and hid her face into his neck but she’s already knocking out in his arms from the stingy feeling in her eyes that made her super duper sleepy.

..

Clouds. Y/N's merged into them and they cover every inch of Y/N, wait where am I? She feels real nice comforted around with such warm bedding and she sure knows it’s not hers. The blurry sight infront of her is enough to aware her and a perfectly calloused hand comes rubbing her shoulder when she tries to sit up.

“Not heaven, o'summat.” He chuckles airily. His smile small and a tad awkward, he’s changed into another pair of trunks that are yellow and his upper half now sadly is covered from a blue tee.

“How you feelin'?” Y/N let his question fly over her head and stutters out loudly, “Why you being s'nice to me now?” It etches a frown on his face but soon it vanishes into an expression that Y/N couldn’t pick point.

“You’ve always been such a meanie...” She murmurs glumly. White sheets tangling around her torso as she moves infront of him – their knees touching.

“I umm –-...like you, I guess?” He has never been this nervous and jumblish with words.

“You guess?” She asks and scared that he missed up he rushes out to hold her and to make her believe that his feelings are true.

“No, no! I’m sure. I like you very much.” That puts Y/N into silence where she stares the gleaming jewels onto his fingers and ponders over what he said.

Harry Styles. Her first kiss. Her very first candy love crush and her dream of bad boy actually likes her back.

She tries to ignore the party poppers going inside her body and the drums of happiness rolling around her heart.

“But ... Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” She doesn’t meet his eyes smoothing out the crinkles of sheets and her palm halts immediately when Harry hooks his thumb under her chin and raises it gaze lovingly into her eyes with sincerity, “Just ‘cos I stole yer first kiss?”

He laughs out sweetly when she bobs her head vigorously, “C’mon we were just sixteen! I’d have made sure to tell y'to keep it safe fo’ your precious person if I knew back then.” His pupils gleaming with hope and a tinge of eagerness.

The next thing she said with a slight bubbly pout caught Harry off-guard and in awe that how to process what she said with so much liability and vulnerability.

“But you’re my precious person!!”

“Yeah, baby?” He grins with a dimple tutting in and grabs her small cold hands to pull her closer to him.

The sweet name shies Y/N away and Harry thinks she couldn’t be more endearing as he takes her soft looking puffy face in the warm embrace of his hands and bops their noses together.

“Then g’na make sure ‘m your last.” He murmurs feathering his lips to the corner of her mouth that flutters her eyelids like butterflies and she pants out for more with a sweet whine, “Shit. You’re still very candy like since I last kissed ye'.” He giggles stroking his thumb up her cheek and takes a lick of her jutted bottom lip.

“Harry....” She complains tugging his weary shirt, “Yes me baby?” He quips out with those fake surprised eyes he makes with raised brows and puppy gaze.

“Kiss me alre –—,” He's swallowing her words down with the tender smush of his lips against hers in a kiss that’s slow and comforting at first, hearing onto the noises that she creates from tasting him and it deepens into something ardent and red when Harry pulls her over his thighs and guides her arms around his neck.

Their foreheads comes touching. Their hearts in sync and beside eachother. Their tongues loving on eachother.

“Dunno if I could ever stop.” He whispers breaking the knot of spit that connects their mouths with the stroke of his thumb against her shinning lip and pecks that spot twice.

“Then don’t.” Y/N looses her brain cells and only butterflies to whoosh into her skull as she grabs his jaw never letting him go and kisses him harder and rougher this time.

She’s gonna be in oh so much love with this bad boy that’s such a softie for her and she knows that there’s no going back.

[inkedtae]

a brew of wings ⇾ myg. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ dragon!yoongi x witch!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  daechwita inspired, fantasy, magic realism, smut, fluff, angst-ish, hybrid au, shifter au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  your tiny tea shop is the perfect front for harbouring hybrid fugitives

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 10.3k 

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of captivity, mentions of death, hard dom!yoongi, lip piercing!yoongi, big dicc!yoongi, tattooed!yoongi, sub!reader, tea shop owner!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, a lil dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, oral (m. receiving), multiple orgasms, begging, teasing, spanking, a lil choking, spit play, breath play

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ happy halloween!! speical thanks to selene (@jksangelic​) for helping me out a bit with logisitics!!! enjoy :)

♕ This is dedicated to @kkulmoon​. My bestest soulmate!!!

♕ banner/border by ⇾ @suqakoo (jiji is wonderful and deserves all the love and this is a beautiful banner)

♕ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk (a hundred kisses and thanks to this gems for always being there for me~~)

♕ le playlist 

In the humble village of Daegu, sandwiched between a blacksmith and mechanic, a tiny tea shop lives - exactly where Namjoon said it would be. But, not at all like his mother had described all those years ago. Technology has bled into every corner of her once little world. Yoongi wonders if she would still recognize it as he watches customers filter in and out from under his wickered hat.  The tea shop seems all too busy to resemble anything close to a hybrid asylum, but Namjoon was specific. Perhaps Yoongi shouldn’t trust knights of the king. Most have a reputation for hybrid mistreatment. However, there isn’t much logic in letting Yoongi run so far only to be captured in an obscure tea shop. And besides, Namjoon is a friend. Perhaps the closest he’d encountered in a long while.

“She’s going to scold you.”

“Nix loves me too much to scold me.”

Nix. The familiar name redirects Yoongi’s attention to the two men walking by him. The taller one, with features so symmetrical they almost seem unreal, rests a fishing pole over his shoulder. The shorter one, with the sharper tongue, carries a bag that clatters with glass. They enter the shop causally tossing curses at each other. Yoongi reaches into his pocket, unfolding the little piece of parchment Namjoon ripped to scribble on. 

utopia, nix, huckleberry lemon on ice.

One glance up at the flickering neon sign above the storefront attempts to spell Teatopia, but the first strokes of light seem to be dead. Instead, it glows atopia. Tremors of the midnight train suddenly resonate around the evening market. All lights flicker and dishes clatter, though the villagers' conversations carry on. Their affairs remain uninterrupted, eyes focused only on each other. Yoongi clenches his fists and digs his feet into the ground to steady himself until the train finally passes. When he glances back up at the neon sign, parts of the first ‘a’ flicker out to read utopia. 

Rolling his shoulders back, Yoongi bears his fangs behind sealed lips, as a precaution, then pushes the door open. A bell chimes. Patrons sit around velvet draped tables. They engage in  lively conversations, breaking steamed buns together and sipping on all sorts of tea. But, it’s the steady crackles of the fireplace that pique Yoongi’s interest. The amber embers beneath the flames soothe the heaviness upon his chest. One breathful of floral smoke, and he sinks into comfort.

That is until a black cat purrs down by his feet. Yoongi snaps his gaze down to find it circling between his legs then prancing off behind the counter. The two men bickering outside sit at the bar in front of a woman looking more unimpressed the longer they speak. Yoongi retracts his fangs, eyes fixated on the way your brows dance with annoyance. And that dress. He doesn’t care much for fashion but you seem to wear it differently, simply. Most people, much like him, travel with layers. Only a black dress clothes you, sleeves flourishing at your wrists and laces around your cleavage. Though, he really shouldn’t let his eyes wander.

Yoongi ignores the heat rushing to his cheeks as he approaches the counter. The black cat sits by the one-eyed register. Its tail swirls and emerald eyes remain on him. He tentatively takes a seat by a sleeping old man, a couple seats away from the arguing men. 

“Nixy,” the shorter one smirks. “You wouldn’t scold me, right.”

You, Nix it would seem, cross your arms under your chest. You hold a blank expression until the taller one sighs and grumbles, “He stopped for a pack of stray dogs.”

“Jin! You promis- He purposely mislead us to fish for a couple of hours!” 

Jin gasps then nudges his friend. “Guk, I swear I’ll kill you.” 

Guk scoffs, returning the shove. He stands from his seat and attempts to tower over Jin, only to get a hand slice to the neck. A quick exchange of smacking hands breaks out between the two, the sleeping old man beside Yoongi suddenly wide awake. 

“Land one in the gut!” He shouts.

Yoongi winces at the volume. He mutters a curse under his breath before his annoyed gaze meets yours. You watch him for a beat, two, three, then blink your attention back to Jin and Guk. A wave of your hand separates them with a slide back. Frustration still rages in their gazes. Yoongi holds his breath, diverting his gaze to the floor. Recognizing rage in others often triggers his hybridity. The dragon tickles in his palms as thick, black talons replace his nails. Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes shifty, breath heavy. 

You bite your lip. Jin and Guk fall silent, their words cinching in their throats. “I don’t want to have to send Apolla to babysit you,” you sigh. The black cat purrs in hiccups, as if laughing. You let a smirk grace your lips, continuing, “This next batch needs to be delivered on time.” 

With a twirl of your finger, glass vials, now filled to the brim with multi-coloured herbs, float back into Guk’s bag. You, then, beckon the pouty men closer. They shuffle towards the counter. You tug two tiny crystal pendants from your charm bracelet and pin one on each of their sleeves. “These should help you stick to your path,” you mutter. “Soak them in saltwater once all the orders are complete.” 

Though they roll their eyes, both men nod in understanding. Guk offers an innocent smile, Jin a playful one, before turning to the door. Whatever spell you had over their voices seems to wear off by the time they exit. “Little punk,” are Jin’s final words. 

Yoongi’s hands clam with sweat as his talons retract under the cover of his pockets. He sighs heavily. Gaze shaking behind his short hair, he shifts in his seat. The old man’s snoring returns sinking in with the crackling fireplace seamlessly. Yoongi wishes he had this man’s freedom. The ability to fall in and out of sleep in a public place without fearing for his safety. Is it his identity or the shop that makes him feel this secure? 

“What can I get you?” 

He flinches. Meeting your curious gaze, he mutters, “Huckleberry lemon.” 

“Infused or blended?” 

Momentary panic flashes in his eyes. If you notice, you don’t make it known. “On ice.” 

The action is quiet, subtle, but Yoongi hears it clearly. Your breath hitches. You swallow thickly, looking him over once, twice, then ask, “On or in?”

“On.”

You wave a hand. The lights of the shop flicker out, candles taking their place. Yoongi shoots to his feet, talons and fangs returning. His temples suddenly ache where his horns should be. Oh yes, Yoongi remembers, Horns surface in defense too. Setting his jaw, he ignores whatever sentiment scratches at his throat and whips his gaze around the store, searching for the first attack. However, he merely finds the patrons preparing to leave. They seem all too familiar with the switch between electric to flame. A few of them even mutter curses under their breath. 

The old man stretches by Yoongi, to which he flinches. “Another rogue broomstick?” He asks you. 

“A mop,” you correct before tugging on your ear. A loud clattering boom sounds from the closest by the end of the counter. Yoongi jumps back, looking to you for an answer. You avoid his gaze. 

The customers bid you a goodnight. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. They swim with panic instead. Yoongi perks his ears towards you, instantly picking up the quick beat of your heart. It’s hammering, blood sprinting around its cycle within your veins. He glances down at your hands. Your nails have scratched their way to the edge of the wooden counter, knuckles tense as you grip onto it.

Once all the customers have left, you circle around the counter and ask, “Is Namjoon okay? What happened?”

Yoongi stumbles back, eager to create distance amongst you. “Yeah, he’s fine. He told me you’ll find me a place to stay.” 

“Where is he?”

“Seoul.”

You pause. Not a single breath dares escape you as you assess his word. Yoongi raises a brow. What exactly is your connection to Namjoon, he wonders. You went out of your way to find out as quickly as possible if anything was wrong. He licks his lips when realization finally colours your features. A bitter curse slips past your maroon lips. Without another word, you rush back around the counter and begin scribbling onto a loose piece of parchment. You roll it up once you’re done. “Apolla,” you call. The black cat leaps from counter top to top, landing by you effortlessly. You slip the note into her collar and whisper, “Make sure they read it and seriously consider it before leaving to the next, okay?” 

Apolla meows, rubs her head in your hand then jumps off the counter. Yoongi peers over the counter to see where she’s gone, but he can’t spot her anywhere in the candle lit darkness. 

“Do you have the note he gave you?” 

Yoongi snaps his attention back to you. Your back faces him again. He digs into his pocket and pulls out the tiny piece of parchment. You pluck it right out of his hand and roll it up with your own note then whistle a high melody. Distant hoots grow louder behind him. He looks to the door as it opens on its own accord. A black owl swoops into the shop. You tie the message to its left leg, offer the owl what looks like a rat tail, then send it off. The door shuts the moment it's gone, locks clicking. 

Finally turning to Yoongi, you tip your finger up and his hat falls to his back. Yoongi glares. Your sporadic writings and dismissals might have been interesting at first, but now he’s looking for answers. How is this witch supposed to help him? Namjoon promised he’d be safe here and, though the shop feels secure, you do not. 

“Agust Dragon,” you whisper.

Yoongi furrows his brows. His gaze shifts to the draped windows and locked doors. Who told you of his arrival? Perhaps this was a trap. Was it to see how far he could get, to have this entire little town witness his defeat? The cruelty of the king does not know restraint. If anyone was to lead him back to his mother’s village to further humiliate him, it would be the king. Yoongi rolls his shoulder back, inhaling deeply as his talons surface once more. Taking a step back, he asks, “How do you know that? He didn’t write that in the note.”

Your eyes glow with concern. Had Yoongi not been fixating on every change, he wouldn’t have caught the underlying tone of your gaze. It’s almost as if you’re questioning just how much he knows. You wave a hand at the radio. Through the speakers, a robotic voice informs, We interrupt your scheduled programming to alert a hybrid breach in Seoul. Agust Dragon has escaped royal captivity. All-

With another wave, it switches back off. “It goes on for a while about your scar too,” you add. 

Tremors of the taser used to detain him flash within his veins. The glint of that pearl sword blinds him with the haunting pain. Between those stone walls, he fully transformed. Had he known it would be the last time, he would’ve spread his wings wide, tipped his head to the sky and bellowed a cloud of fire. Within the smug, he’d inhale deeply and do it all over again. Perhaps he would’ve escaped then. Perhaps he would’ve endured more scars. At least, Yoongi thinks, I would still be a dragon.  

The clatter of dishes pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks his attention back to where you stood, only to find you mixing something in a black caludon. Jars of various contents hover around you, some peaking at the mixture over your shoulder. Yoongi watches you move further in the kitchen behind the counter like you’re floating yourself. Movements so swift, sharp, susintically enchanting, he can’t take his eyes off you no matter how hard he tries. Your power is an outlaw to nature yet looks so natural. Is it a charm of who you are or who you’ve become?

“I’m not sure what’s nourishing for a dragon,” you say over your shoulder. “I try to adjust the glamour to the hybrid. There isn’t much about dragons.”

“Yet.”

The speed of your gaze to his soul makes him shiver. You don’t regard him with hostility, but something much worse: curiosity. The very bane of his existence. Only, hints of concern cushion the blow of this realization. Yoongi can sense your intentions in the way you calculate your words. You explained what you’re working on without prompting. You ensure he knows you’re here to help by mentioning nutrients rather than sedatives. Yoogni may not know you, but he knows Namjoon well enough to know that if he trusts you enough with this information, then you might not be as big a threat as your curiosity is. 

You return to the counter with a red and gold patterned teapot. The colours swirl around a white base in slithering motions. Yoongi assumes it’s a simple meld of lines until he makes out the bold eyes of a dragon. Shooting you a glare, he asks, “Is this a joke?” 

The smirk on your face does not comfort his annoyance. Whether or not you recognize this, is hard for Yoongi to tell. There’s something painfully unreadable in your eyes. You never regard him with pity, even if he knows his face is bruised, clothes dirty and hair smells all too strong to ignore. Something else laces your looks that soothes and riles him all at once. 

“It’s charmed to reflect your greatest desire,” you explain. 

Yoongi pauses, looking down at the teapot again. The wings of the dragon flap then spread wide, like gliding over the winds. He blinks back his frustrations, reverting his attention to the flower painted cup in your hands. Regret pricks his heart, his conscious scolding his tongue for lashing out all too quickly. Just because he can’t completely trust you, doesn’t particularly mean you don’t have pure intentions regardless. 

He clears his throat and mutters, “Sorry.”

After pouring dark violet tea into the cup, Yoongi watches as you squeeze a bit of honey in. You shrug his apology off while giving the tea a good stir. Sliding the cup towards him, you tentatively search his gaze and ask, “So, what did you see?”

Yoongi ignores the question. He keeps his attention focused on the tea, bracing himself before that first, initial sip. The moment the spice soaked chia touches his lips, he is thrown into a euphoric tranquility. Notes of cinnamon, ginger, anise stars and peppercorn evade his senses. His body voluntarily melts into the warm comfort spreading within. And that little bit of honey you added, offers just the right amount of sweetness, and that’s not something Yoongi particularly cares for. 

It takes pulling the cup away from his mouth for him to realize he’d drank it all. Face warm, he glances up at you. He’d never really met a witch before, merely seen them around. He doesn’t remember his mother mentioning any in Daegu when she resided here. They seemed to flock around Ilsan, near the wooded mountains. It’s rather common knowledge that the closer they are to nature, the stronger they become. Their strength usually also manifests greaty in covens. So, why is this one alone? 

Wiping his mouth, Yoongi holds the cup out. He may not completely understand your motives, but that tea is too warm to turn down. You smile and refill it. He takes another sip, removing the cup from his face so as to not to chug it all at again. You pick up on his actions and quietly giggle to yourself. Yoongi bites back a smile. Maybe it’s the tea, but he finds something about your laugh that’s all too pleasing. It feels familiar, a little sentimental, and profoundly personal. 

“What’s your name?”

He raises a brow. Was Agust not enough for you? Or do you know that it isn’t who he really is? “How did you-”

“You look like the cautionary type,” you interrupt. “The type to bear his fangs and talons on the slight chance that danger is just around the corner. So, I would assume you didn’t tell whoever caught you your real name.” 

And he thought he hid that so well. You’re smarter than he expected you to be. Or perhaps, more accurately, you’re more perceptive than expected. The longer he remains in your presence, the more he realizes he has completely underestimated you. Originally, you were just some middle maiden, redirecting lost hybrids upon a knight’s command. Now, Yoongi is starting to wonder if perhaps you’re the one in command. However, if you can sway knights of the king, why wouldn’t you use that power for something greater than relocating refuge hybrids? Why not destroy the system all together? 

Either way, your potential summons a ghost of smirk to his lips. “And why should I tell you?” His tone is almost teasing, but simply because Yoongi is curious now. How much attention are you offering?

You rest elbows on the counter and lean on your chin in your hands while trying to hide a smile. “I’m (Y/N).”

In a reactive loop, he mentally repeats your name until it’s seared into his brain. His dragon hums in approval, like it was expecting it, expecting you. Yoongi presses on. “What’s the point of Nix then?”

“A coven name burns into your soul,” you whisper. “Much like a dragon does when born.”

“I thought you said you don’t know much about dragons.”

You smile, rolling your eyes like he’s the one being tested. Sitting up, you turn back to the kitchen and ask, “Have you eaten?”

Yoongi barely parts his lips before you cut in again and call over your shoulder, “Or would you rather get washed up first? Hmm, that might be best. Finish your tea and I’ll show you to the bath.”

A snap of your fingers and the kitchen comes alive. You shut the curtains into the back, but Yoongi makes out the charmed sponges and dishes being cleaned. The closest that clattered not to long ago, opens just enough for a broom and mop to waddle out. They rush to the back, the mop bumping into the broom. For a moment, the two nudge each other back and forth, until your echoing steps scare them into continuing on their path to the kitchen. They slip between the curtains. 

In near silence, Yoongi sits alone in the shop. The distant spray of the sink only just breaks the hearth’s crackling concentration. Every sip of tea settles the fuming dragon. It’s something about the spicy kick and earthy tones of mint - at least he thinks it’s mint. He wonders what gives it this violet colour. Is it the magic? Is it you?

It’s rather odd, now that he thinks about it. Three days of travel, of near survival only to find solstice in a cup of tea. Perhaps that’s the true magic you offer. A sense of peace is a sip away? Or maybe it’s the lack of concrete walls and iron chains. His mother would enjoy this tea. His father would look forward to the food. But Yoongi craves the steam of a bath, the warmth of a pillow. And the dragon within yearns for your presence. If Yoongi wasn’t so sunk in tranquility, he’d search for a reason. Alas, he cannot be bothered. 

“You ready?” 

The chime of your voice snaps his gaze away from the teapot. Yoongi glances down at his cup to find it empty again. Why can’t he every savour the taste? 

With a nod, he hops off the stool. “How far is it?”

You toss him a confused look. Nodding towards the right, you reply with a chuckle, “Just a couple of steps.”

The teapot and cup hop off the counter and into the kitchen as Yoongi watches you disappear down a hallway. You return with a half-smile, regarding him as if he’s the strange one, enchanting dishes and speaking in half-truths. 

“Well, come on!”

A sharp retort sits on the tip of his tongue. Yoongi swallows it before it can cause more damage than necessary. Orders don’t resonate too well with the dragon. It burns his throat with disobedience. There is a better way to do things: his way. He doesn’t particularly like being forced into another. Still, he follows in silence. 

You lead him to the tiny office that looks more disorganized than anything else. Layers of loose parchment and letters bury a mahogany desk. Dried wax, leaked from overused candles, splatters over every surface. Blankets atop a sapphire and opal patterned carpet lay in disarray. You bend over in front of him, his face reddening and eyes shooting to the ceiling, to find cobwebs and burned lights tangled around the beams. With a grunt, you flip up the carpet and a little hatch appears. A stomp, two, three and it clicks open. A dark staircase makes itself known. 

“After you,” you smile. 

Yoongi furrows his brows. Are you insane or simply numb to your own oddities? He’s having a hard time deciding when you flash him such an innocent smile. Glancing back at the dark staircase, even his dragon begins to question your sanity. “You want me to enter this basement first? The hidden, dark basement?”

It takes a moment but his point finally dawns on you. Brows shooting up, you let out a nervous giggle and decide to enter first. “It’s not a basement,” is all you offer as a means of comfort. Or at least that’s what he thinks you say. You’re about halfway down before saying anything at all, voice distant and echoing. 

Where else can he go, he wonders. It would be hard to find a hidden place after being spotted in the town. He doesn’t even know the terrain that well and there isn’t just some tree he can climb or cave to scurry into. You’re unfortunately his last hope for safety. Perhaps you just have a skewed version of it. Yoongi just hopes it's not as skewed as the king’s. 

Against his cautionary judgement, he descends. Each step beckons him closer to warmth, a reality he wasn’t expecting. An orange hue dances against the stone walls as he reaches the last few steps of the spiral staircase. 

You’re right. Again. It’s not at all a basement, but a home. Yoongi inherits the serenity, familiarity and security the moment he arrives. Book shelves galore, candles a plenty and belevenance at every glance. You move around the living room with a pillow and a stack of blankets. Dropping by the foot of the emerald couch, your attention falls back to Yoongi. In his dirty clothes and unwashed hair, he feels so out of place from the purity your home radiates. 

“The bathroom is just down that hall,” you say, pointing to one of five hallways on the right side. 

You’re odd. Yoongi didn’t think that would be something he’d respond to. He nods as a thanks, ignoring the way your generosity strokes his heart. Perhaps, he wonders while shuffling down the hall, humans are wretched. And witches, the so-called horrors of horror, are benignant. Or, it could just be that you are. Either way, Yoongi has witnessed something tonight that he hadn’t in a long time. Acceptance. 

He spares you one last glance, hand hovering over the brass doorknob. You’re holding a wand and attempting to transform the couch into a bed. The dragon reminds him that you don’t know him, where he comes from, how long he’d traveled, or what he’d done to be chained. All you know is a friend sent him here and his hybridity makes him undesirable. Such a luxury, the dragon whispers, to trust and be trusted. 

Agust doesn’t like to talk about himself. You learned this quickly. After the first night, you tried to pry again. Who else escaped? How long had he known Namjoon? Any chance he’ll be offering that name now? But, he won’t budge. Sometimes, when he’s tired of all your questions, he’d walk away. The excuse is usually that he’s looking for a book, but you haven’t seen him pick up anything besides an anthology of flight. You decided to give up all together, not daring to ask the real question on your mind, like how he got that scar. 

Other times, however, he’ll turn the questions onto you. Maintaining eye contact, he’d listen to each answer and engage in a little conversation about each point. Three weeks have elapsed, and you still have yet to decide if this is part of his diverting tactic or if he’s genuinely interested. In both cases, it’s good to know that he’s willing to have a conversation about something. 

It’s also reassuring to find that he’s adapted to your routine seamlessly. He mentioned something about wanting to help out around the shop his third morning in Daegu. The look on his face was too precious to deny. Curious, unsure, tentative, he muttered the question like it meant everything and nothing to him all at once. You were wondering if he knew that Apolla still hadn’t returned with news then, but now you’re sure. He glances at her food bowl every morning, as if looking for signs of her presence. 

Three weeks is the longest she’d ever looked for a safehouse. You expected that not many people would want to harbour a known fugitive, but hoped that someone would. Most hosts recognize the danger of associating with a hybrid. The consequences are the same - execution. Perhaps risks run higher when a face is attached to a name and continuously circling the news. 

Your greatest regret, however, is how relieved you are that he won’t be leaving. Sure, Agust is stand-offish and too blunt at times, but there’s just something about him that reels you in. The rasp of his voice, the indifferent wonder in his eyes, how he walks like he rather be flying is endearing. He almost floats with determined desolation, like he digs the very hole he’s in to get out. The deeper he is, the stronger he becomes. You’re not sure if you find that admirable, but it’s something merely Agust-esque. 

He leans on the counter now, reading that same anthology again. You’re sure this is his fourth time through it. He still soaks in every word and takes his time with each page. A customer approaches the counter with a bright smile. You stop cleaning one of the tables to watch Agust deliberately ignore him. Being a dragon, he can sense when someone is near and how they might be feeling.You know this from the stories your coven would trade. Dragons, being a rarity, are something like gods to witches; you haven’t really met one before Agust. 

“Good evening,” the customer greets. He hops onto one of the stools as Agust ignores him. His smile wavers. “S-sir?”

“Shh.”

The customer blinks. He looks around as if wondering if he’d really just been shushed. “I would-”

“Shh.” 

You sigh, muttering a quiet plea to the gods under your breath. Then, you catch it, the smirk plaything on Agust’s lips. It’s so tiny, hidden behind an annoyed persona, that if you hadn't been paying such close attention you would’ve missed it. He’s not ignoring the customer to gain a reaction out of them, but out of you. And for some odd reason, that makes your heart skip a beat. 

Agust flips the page then finally acknowledges the customer. An amused look holds his features as the customer stutters their order. “Orange basil?” He questions, hints of disgust drenched in his tone. Before the man can part his lips to reply, Agust sighs and shrugs. He looks at you, and raises a brow. It’s rather teasing, silently asking why you’re staring. 

After wiping your hands, you carry the tray of teacups and little teapots back to the counter. The magic takes over once you stand by Agust. He follows your every movement, eyes lingering on the sway of your hips for a few seconds too long. 

“Jimin,” you greet, ignoring Agust like he had done to the customer. 

He picks up on your actions quickly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Suck up,” he whispers. 

“Is he supposed to be behind the counter?” Jimin asks. He avoids Agust’s gaze, knowing his question would earn him a glare. 

“Not with an attitude,” you reply with a bright smile. 

Agust rolls his eyes, prepared to chuckle until he hears Jimin laugh. He sighs as if the daily customer is intruding. Within seconds, his interest in the conversation falls. That cursed anthology consumes his attention all over again. 

You mask your disappointment with business, turning to the kitchen. The caldron already heard the order and began it’s brew just as you have enchanted it to do. Agust knows this. He’s watched you recharm the pots every morning. And every time you run back here, you know he notices. Sometimes you can feel his eyes following you when you walk away from him. There’s a faint pull in his gaze, like he’s pleading for your return to his side. At times, you find yourself longing after him too when he’s in such close but distant proximity. 

A quiet hoot shatters all your thoughts. You rush back to the counter in time to find the door burst open and Grako swoon in. Agust already had his gaze locked on the glass, his inner dragon probably having picked up the thumping flaps of feather in the wind. 

Some customers gasp and duck agains their tables. You ignore their confused stares, knowing they’ll chalk this up to one of your strange quirks. Grako lands on the counter, scaring Jimin enough to make him jump out of his seat. Agust enjoys the sight a little too much. 

“Can you get the seeds by the sink for me?” You ask Agust, hoping to grant Jimin a moment without ridicule. Without a word, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

You fight every instinct to follow after his frame and focus on the owl. Searching for Namjoon’s reply, your heart sinks when you don’t find parchment on the left leg. Your message looks untouched on the right. Untying the string holding it together, you unroll the parchment to find the unchanged message. 

Agust sets the sealed bag of seeds on the counter. Grako turns to face him. You do your best to suppress a shaky sigh, but Agust hears it anyways. He ignores the owl eyeballing him and shifts closer to you. The action surprises you enough to distract from your worries. Agust never cared for less distance. Yet, he stands close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He mutters.

Though you want to tell him, you know now is not at all the right time. One too many pairs of eyes lock on you, various ears perking in your direction. You force a smile and shake your head. “Nothing at all,” you reply in the steadiest voice you can muster. 

He nods. He doesn’t believe it, but nods. “How often do your charms work?” 

You raise a brow. “Often.”

“So are the sponges supposed to wring sink water all over the floor?”

Agust is clever. You never doubted this. He’s perspicacious, calculating and above all downright angelic. However, you try not to let that last detail overtake you too much. It’s just that pierced lip and dark tattoo peeking from under his tunic stun you from time to time. The messy hair, undercut and dark, and that scar that lure you more than they should. It’s all too pure to be so rough, much like his personality. 

No, wait, you’ve gotten ahead of yourself again. Agust is clever - yes. He knows just how to get his way with you every time. Anything he wants, you usually offer. His reference of rogue cleaning supplies is just one example of his advantageous perception. Tugging on your ear, you sent the sponges acraze around the kitchen. A cacophony of broken dishes and spilled cauldrons echo throughout the shop. You wonder if you tugged too hard or perhaps used a stronger spell than intended. Did you even recharm the sponges or the entire kitchen? 

All conversation halts to the loud mess transpiring behind the curtain. Agust nudges your elbow, reminding you of the switch to flames when enchantments “malfunction.” You mutter a quiet, oh then wave a trembling hand to the ceiling. The lights flicker a few times before the half-hearted spell finally works. 

“But-” Jimin tries to say only to have Agust hush him again with a finger upon his lips. Jimin sighs, following the rest of the customers out. 

Agust waits for the doors to lock before fully facing you. “So?”

You’re not sure what Agust’s relationship was with Namjoon. You always assumed it was closer enough to trust, but how close is that for Agust? Did Namjoon know his real name? The last thing you want to do is sadden him with your assumptions about your best friend’s silence. However, as you part your lips to lie, you find you are simply incapable of the action when it comes to Agust. It’s not just that he will automatically catch on, but that the act itself dries your mouth. It would feel awkward to lie, perhaps even disgusting. 

“He didn’t reply.”

“It’s been gone for a month.”

“I know.”

He searches your eyes. Fingertips hovering near yours, he inhales half a breath. “Maybe he went back to Ilsan?”

Namjoon told him about Ilsan? Your heart festers with jealousy, regrettably towards Namjoon. If Agust knows of Ilsan, then Namjoon must know his real name. The fact that you didn't mention a name at all in your note might have tipped him against replying. You know Namjoon well enough to know he would take the safest option. Is that where Agust picked up his cautionary habit? No, you mustn’t entertain this petty frustration. So what if Namjoon is closer to Agust than you are? They probably spent more time together too. Another wave of annoyance attacks your chest. That possibility seems to irk you more than soothe you as it was meant to.

Sliding the piece of parchment and a pen towards him, you mutter, “Write your name. The one he’d know.” 

Agust pauses. You don’t spare him a second glance. It’s childish, you know, but you can't help but be a bit peeved with him. Your mind is actively reminding you that Agust and Namjoon are their own people and do not need to have a smaller relationship than you and Agust do. Your heart can’t shut up about it though. It invades your thoughts with questions that attack your insecurities. Have you been too nice? Too mean? Too lazy with your magic or too powerful? Is he intimidated or simply more comfortable around men than he is around women? Feeding Grako from the seeds in your palm, you clench your jaw and attempt to purge these thoughts from your mind. 

Doubt is poisonous. You wish you had an anecdote for this sort of suffering. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, he doesn’t believe you’re really here,” you all but snap. “So either scribble the stupid name or let him die.” 

Your drama makes you cringe. Being too aware of your stupidity in the moment might just be the very worse detail about this cursed conversation. 

Agust scoffs. Inching closer, he towers over you. Jaw set, eyes dark with amber rage, he whispers, “You’ll refrain from using such a tone with me if you know what’s good for you.” His calloused fingers trace the outline of your face, as he continues, “I don’t want to warn you again.”

You shudder against his frame. Gulping, you muster whatever courage you have left and mutter, “You’ll refrain from using such threats with me.” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently, letting your magic tickle his bloodstream. He shivers as those black talons reappear. You feel their impression against your wrist. “If you know what’s good for you,” you finish. 

Agust waits, watches. Adam’s apple bobbing, he nods once. His attention returns to the parchment. He scratches his name, blows it dry, then rolls it up like you had weeks ago. You tie the note to the right leg again. You hope your assumption is correct as you secure the knot. After tossing Grako a rat tail, to which he effortlessly catches, you send him off again. This time he is Ilsan bound. 

“Who is Namjoon to you?” Agust asks once the doors lock shut again. 

You wave a hand to the kitchen to fix whatever disarray you accidentally set it to then answer the question with one of your own. “Who are you to him?”

“A friend.” 

You weren’t really expecting an answer. He usually sulks when you toss a question back at him. So, you begin to wonder, why did he answer this one? What is so important about your answer this time? 

“A best friend,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes. “Does getting on my nerves fascinate you?” 

You shrug. “Usually.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I did.”

He sighs and you mock it, earning a pointed look. “Did you meet in Ilsan?”

“Yeah. We grew up together,” you answer. Though you love to tease him, you can never keep it up for too long. You always end up giving into him at some point. “We were neighbours. The coven didn’t really like him lurking around me though.” 

“Was this his idea?”

You raise a brow. “I thought you were friends?”

“You’re enchanting,” he suddenly blurts. 

When your face falls in shock, his cheeks heat up. His words seem as though they are registering for the first time. How enchanting are you exactly?

“What I mean is,” he tries again. “You have the tendency to get your way from anyone you’d like. Jin and Guk have made all glamour deliveries on time, Namjoon rounds up hybrids for you to relocate all over the kingdom, and you recruit every animal you find.” 

“Not every animal,” you playfully pout. “Just the useful ones.”

Agust rolls his eyes. Accepting defeat, he shuts his book and tucks it under his arm. For a second, you think he’s about to say something. But, he merely licks his lips and avoids your gaze. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s upset with you. 

Later, during dinner, you start to believe your assumptions. Agust seems to focus on everything but you. The beef stew, garlic buns, kimchi, ginseng tea, even pulling out that stupid book again. Never has he opened those pages at the table, always offering you at least sliver of attention. Maybe you have no right for feeling this way, but his disregard for you twinges your pride. 

“Is there a reason you’re staring?”

And that tone. You’ve grown rather sick of it, frankly. He sulks around the house, around the shop and grumbles half-hearted insults. Though you know they’re usually playful, you can’t ignore the festing frustration in your chest.

His eyes gleam with the dragon within. “We both know I can sense your anger.” 

“Shut the book.”

“No.”

You raise a brow, silently suggesting a possible source to your anger.  Agust shuts the book. 

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” you sarcastically smile. 

He stares for a moment then shakes his head. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry,” he says while picking up his plate. 

You charm it right out of his hands as he stands from his seat. He glares. You return it. When he reaches for his cup, you wave a hand at it as well. Both dishes hover to the sink. The game carries on until all the dishes float back to the kitchen. You toss a mocking smirk and ask, “Enough flying for you?”

“What do you have against flying?” 

It has your attention. “Nothing.” 

“You’re a terrible liar. How you’ve gotten away with all this hybrid hiding all these ears is beyond me.”

You quirk your head to the side. So he knows this operation has been years in the making. Then what was all that questioning about? 

“If you have something to say, then say it,” he baits after taking his seat. He almost sounds like he doesn’t think you will. He should know you better by now. 

You stand up and circle the table. Leaning against the edge, towering over him, you cross your arms under your chest and disregard all filters. “How did you escape?” 

He scoffs. “Namjoon helped me.”

“Yes, but how?”

A certain darkness falls over his features. He gulps before letting out a shaky sigh. “He was guarding my quarters. We spoke often.” Then he falls silent, eyes reverting to the floor. A moment elapses, two, three, by the fifth he takes another deep breath. “My last night was hard. He told me that he was working on permanent relaction in Ilsan. Something about how the mountains are safest. But after that night, I don’t think he was willing to wait for the right moment anymore.” 

So, that’s how he knew of Ilsan. Shame settles over you in heavy waves. You avoid his eye in regret. Even after that, you know you shouldn’t pry. But you continue to ask anyways. “What happened?”

He glances at the anthology. “They took my horns,” he mutters so indifferently you think it’s a joke. Still, you don’t dare laugh. Not when his face is riddled with embarrassment and disgrace. 

“Then, I was forced into a full transformation,” he continues. “And clipped.”

You gasp. He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Don’t be so dramatic, (Y/N).”

How can he be so lighthearted? No- you mustn’t question his ways of coping. Regret engulfs you as you look to the stupid book again. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so pushy about it. You’ve heard rumors in the coven, about clipped dragons. You just didn’t think anyone would ever succumb to such cruelty. 

“I won’t tell you things if you’re just gonna cry about it,” he grumbles. 

You’re crying? Rubbing your hands against your cheeks, you’re surprised to find them wet. “Sorry,” you chuckle. “I just can’t believe they really-” 

“So this wasn’t your idea then?”

Shifting closer to him, you wipe away all your tears and shake your head. “Namjoon found me the day I opened. I told him in a letter that I’ve borrowed a home under the shop. A couple of hobbits told me about it on the train from Ilsan.” 

His hand slips into yours, stunting your explanation for a moment. You gaze down at them, finding the warmth all too welcoming to vocalize any curiosities. His thumb brushes against your knuckles, as if attempting to soothe your worries. 

“Is that how you relocate us? Through tunnels?” 

You nod. “He’s a knight of the people. Just like he vowed to be.” 

Agust sighs. He stops the smoothing touches and redirects his eyes to the floor. “I’m Yoongi,” he whispers, then quickly changes the subject before you’re able to comment on it. “My mother is from Daegu. I thought I’d find her here even though I know where she’s buried.” 

Yoongi. How precious. You repeat the name over and over again until it seers into your brain. A sudden tug to get close gnaws at your heart. A part of you wants to sit in his lap, but another is trying desperately to convince you how bad of an idea that is. The fact of the matter is, though you appreciate the honesty, you can’t help but wonder why he’s telling you all this. After a little over a month of half-sentences and playful teasing at most, he’s suddenly willing to spill all this out to you? It doesn’t make much sense to you, but you’re too afraid to ask. The last thing you’d want to do is downplay his honesty for something material. 

Alas, it seems like you don’t have to ask though. Yoongi already knows. 

“I want to tell you I don’t know. But, I think you might be the first person in a very long time to not care.” When you furrow your brows in confusion, he lightly chuckles and clarifies, “You are clever enough to know my name is not dragon, despite popular belief, and couldn’t care less that I am one. I’m just Yoongi to you, even if you didn’t know it.” 

You cannot deny the allure of him anymore. Hearing him speak of you like this, like you’re the only thing that matters, does more to you than you’re willing to admit. You press your thighs together before slipping into his lap. He wraps an arm around your waist like he’d been expecting this. Yours dangle off his shoulders like you’d been made for this. 

He looks so painfully holy up close, like a fallen god. The scar through his eye crushes your guts with anger. He’d seen so many horrors, perhaps even endured most of it. You know it is not because of the dragon. The determination in his gaze, the desire to survive roots further down than any mythical side of him can touch. Yoongi made it this far because he wanted to. And what do all his efforts leave him with… clipped wings and horns? You can’t sit back and watch him pour himself into this anthology another second. It’s clear he misses his wings, even his horns. 

“Yoongi,” you start, mind sifting through memories of dragon lore. “I think I can bring your wings back.”

He falls silent. A breath doesn’t even dare escape him. “You keep telling me you don’t know much about dragons.”

“I don’t have any physical books about them or dragon hybrids for that matter, but most covens revere dragons. The greatest stories among us are about how magical you are. A piece of you in any potion heightens the effects tenfold,” you explain. 

“So what? You just so happen to have a spell to sprout wings?” 

He’s mocking as a defense. You know this though it still doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes. “Not exactly. Reproduction spells are tricky. They don’t require the typical notions of a dragon that any other spell might. They tend to be a bit more…” you trail off, eyes dancing all around the room just to stay off him. Shifting on his lap, you suddenly find it all too awkward to be seated here. 

“More..?” 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have brought this up. “Intimate.”

You expected to hear him retch in disgust, or maybe even cringe. At the very least, you expected his face to fall. Never did you think it would light up, no matter how badly you hoped it would. 

“Intimate?” He repeats. “How exactly does that work?” You’re about to answer when he adds, “Show me.” 

Heart fluttering, you swallow thickly. Your guts churns with desire, core drenched in desperation as he continues to regard you with cocky indifference. Is he joking? Testing you? You pray to any god listening that he’s serious. 

“We should probably fire the caldron first,” you whisper. “The base needs to brew for a while.” 

Yoongi nods. “I’ll make sure to give it enough time.” He attempts to hide his smile. You push yourself off his lap and try to ignore how needy you become from a few simple words. You can feel him watching. Body shaking, you’re not sure if you're bursting with excitement or simply anxious. Yoongi seems to have made you feel both throughout his stay here. 

Deep breath in, and you bring both hands up to light the fireplace. The charmed calderon fills to life. Rosewater to start; sweet thyme, cloves, wolfsbane, knotgrass and a hint of ginger to brew. Yoongi makes his way towards you, silently watching all the ingredients pour into the black pot. 

“When is it my turn?” 

Skin ablaze, you bit your lip to hold back a moan. “The witch’s essence needs to be added too,” you mutter all too quietly. 

He hears it anyways. “Even better.” 

Your nerves are all he can sense. The smirk on his face tells you that much. He’s playing because he knows he can. He knows he’ll get away with it and there isn’t much you can do about that. Unless… there is?

He did ask you to show him how the intimacy would work. You start to unlace your dress, biting back a giggle when his breath hitches. Did he think you wouldn’t do it? 

Over and off, goes your dress. In a soft thump, it lands on the wooden floors. Yoongi sighs, eyes shamelessly roaming over your naked body, fixating on every dip of your curves. His balls his hands and makes it a point to keep them by his side. The shift in power makes you giddier than it should. 

Raising a brow, you ask, “I thought you wanted to see how it’s done?”

Yoongi chuckles. He licks his lips, looking off to the side for a moment then pulls his shirt off. The symbol of Min inks in arm like a sleeve. A royal dragon. The abuse makes all too much sense now. Not that it has ever been out of place for the king to do such a thing. He thumbs your chin, gently asking to meet his gaze. 

“Do you still want to restore my wings?” He asks, like his status could ever change that. 

You decide to show him how badly you do on your knees. Hands fiddling with his zipper, you undo his pants and let his massive cock smack your face. Yoongi gasps a moan; your pussy clenches with need. How dare he make such a sound so effortlessly? You just might cum from his voice alone, if he keeps this up. And who told him it was okay to be this thick? He’s so heavy against your cheek, pointing at the soft flesh like it belongs to him. 

His eyes gleam, lips stretch into a smug smirk. Well, don’t you? He seems to be silently asking. 

Mouth open, you carve a taste. Is dragon cum as sweet as everyone says? Tongue over slit, and you can confirm that it is. Your eyes roll back and whines escape like it’s your first time. It’s just one taste but you can’t hold yourself back. Spitting over his cock, you pump him a couple of times then shove him down your throat. 

Yoongi groans. His fingers tangle in your hair. At first, they move in gentle motions. The gesture is enough to tell you not to strain yourself. But then you make the mistake of swallowing around him. Your throat tightens all too deliciously for him to merely watch. Like a switch, Yoongi unbounds himself. His nails dig into your scalp, and hips snap forward. 

You gag. And he loves it. Every wet, choked sound struggling to keep up fuels the force of his thrusts. He loses himself all too quickly to even realize that he’s suffocating you. Hands against his thighs, you have to pat him a few times before he returns to his senses. 

In an instant, his hands are by his side again as he pulls out. You let his cock rest on your tongue as you pant. Through your blurred vision, you can only just make out his concerned gaze. “Sorry, princess,” he hisses. 

As if you thought that honey-thick voice couldn’t get any raspier, he goes and calls you his princess. A loud moan leaves you all too quickly. No one has ever dwelled on you like that. Is his objective to ruin you before the spell casts? 

While brushing your hair back, he chuckles down at you. Your soul fills with the undeniable desire to please this man beyond comprehension. You want to hear him whisper how tight you are, tell you how well you’re doing. Until pride glows every inch of your heart, you will not stop choking on his giant cock. 

You take him all at once, again. Throat burning, a part of your regrets not working yourself up to committing to all of him. Back and forth, you bob your head on his dick. So big, he barely even fits. Every new thrust means squeezing himself through all over again. It beckons tears to your eyes and strains your jaw. You’re aching, but he’s twitching.

Face scrunched in pleasure, Yoongi throws his head back. “Just a little more, princess,” he hisses. Pulling in deep, he keeps your head still against his pelvis and whispers, “Hold it there. Just stay- fuck, do it again for Daddy, princess.” 

Anything for daddy, you wish you would scream. You force yourself to swallow twice more than he asked for, risking a gag too big to ignore. Through gritted teeth, he roars like a dragon in heat and unloads himself in your mouth. Most of it slides down just from how deep he’d reached, but the rest spills out from the corner of your lips. 

He doesn’t care. Pulling out, he continues to pump himself at the sight of you. Hair disheveled, cheeks stained with tears and mouth smeared with cum, are you really this big a whore? Or is it all just for him?

You’re granted a moment to catch your breath, watching him watch you with newfound wonder. Vein laced hand, inked and sticky with his own cum, Yoongi pulls you back up to your feet by your neck. He pats your hair down, wipes your lips, then presses a tender kiss upon them.

It’s now that you notice he has always smelt like charred oak, musky and smokey. Everything about him sets you aflame, And though, your lips are on fire from the taste of his, the cold edge of his piercing cools you enough to miss the heat. You moan and drape your arms around his neck like this is some innocent kiss and his erection isn’t poking at your belly. 

“Is there any particular way I gotta fuck you, princess?” He questions between sloppy kisses. 

You force yourself off him long enough to answer, “Hold me over the pot. We have to cum together for it to work.” 

He smiles, jerks his head back when you try to kiss him again. A twinge of embarrassment strikes your heart before he turns you around and softly trails kisses up and down your neck. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs into your skin, rough hands kneading your ass. “Fuck, I knew you had an ass but this is fucking insane.” 

A smack follows his praise. You cry out his name. He spanks you harder. “You know that’s not what you’re supposed to call me right now.” 

You giggle through an erotic moan. He doesn’t like the sound of that. With one hand tight on your neck and the other wrapped around your waist to hold you in place, Yoongi kicks your feet and spreads your legs. Gliding his girth between your folds, he hisses against your ear, “You’ll learn to behave yourself from now on, princess.” 

You want to tell him it was never your intention to disrespect him. However, the slow, deliberate punishment he inflicts melts you into him in silence. All you can bring yourself to whine is, “Whatever you want, daddy.” 

“Mmm, that’s right. That’s my perfect princess,” he whispers. Then, he sucks in a sharp breath with you and plunges himself in your tight cunt. You knew he wouldn’t fit probably in your mouth, but you thought that your pussy, sopping for attention oh so desperately, would easily accept him. It’s your fault for underestimating such a massive cock. His tip doesn’t even fit. Yoongi takes to bending you over for a smoother entrance. 

“So huge!” You cry only to have him chuckle behind you. Vibrations of his laugh tickle your spine.

Once he finally pushes his way through, breathless moans and groans filling the space between, he gives you some time to adjust. It;s thoughtful of him, but you both know no amount of time will ever get you used to his godly size. 

“Please just ruin me, daddy,” you beg, through a broken whine. 

“What was that, princess?”

“Please, please just fuck me!”

Tightening his grip on both your neck and waist, he rapsys a dark laugh against the shell of your ear. You shudder, thinking you might just cum now until he starts to ram you. You jerk forward each time despite his hold on you. His hips always overpower everything else. Rough smacks of skin on skin drown your voice until it’s completely gone. You cannot even bring yourself to properly breathe. He’s a beast. Huffing your name, clenching his jaw and sinking his balls into you, Min Yoongi makes it his mission to destroy you. 

“Pretty, pretty little girl,” he hisses. “My pretty princess.” Grinding his hips against your ass, cock swilling the mess he’s making of your pussy, he suddenly breathes, “I wanna make you my queen.” 

Leaning back into him, you find just enough strength to muster the first words that come to mind. “I’m gonna hold you to that, daddy.” 

He moans, softening his hold to shower your face with gentle kisses. A reflection of comfort and familiarity glow in his eyes when he pulls away. His hands slide down to your thighs. He bends a little to hosite you up against  him. With your legs spread, he holds you over the calderon and picks up that wickedly rough pace again. You place your hands over his and let him ravish in you. 

Slouching, your pussy tights with every new thrust. Doses of you are already dripping into the brew as it boils. Yoongi curses. You thought you felt him twitching a few minutes ago but now you’re sure. In fact, you can even see it. He’s so big an imprint of his cock bulges from your stomach. You watch it twitch again as he shoves his balls deeper into you. 

Just witnessing it, triggers your orgasm. You try to hold it off long enough to let him know, only to have Yoongi barks, “Fucking cum!” 

You’ve never been one to deny him anything. Convulsing, you let your orgasm run free through you. Yoongi digs his fingers into your thick thighs to keep you steady, all while continuing to ruin you. It seems as though cumming spurs him on to further plough into you. He moves with harsher force and speed than he did when he was annoyed. 

He mutters something else in your ear, but you can’t make anything out. Your ears ring, vision blurs and you tremble all over. Toes curled and pointed to the sky, you cry out his name. And, as he pulls out of you to let out leak your mixed cum into the potion, you whisper the spell under your breath thrice. 

“Kiss me,” you whine. “Quick.” 

Though lacking his title, he doesn’t argue. Lips on lips, you drip out your love and seal the spell. 

The cackles of the potion break your kiss. Yoongi sets you back down to your feet then steps away from the heat. You lean back into him, watching the calderon overflow with steam and gleam green. 

He pecks your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist. “So, there really is a potion,” he chuckles quietly to himself. 

“What do you mean? Why would I lie about something like that?”

Yoongi shrugs. You push your ass back against him, teasingly. He tightens his hold with a playful smirk. “I just thought you wanted me.” 

“I do,” you whisper without much thought. 

A relieved smile, gummy and too cute to resemble anything you just did, stretches upon his lip. You peck his chin to which he blushes. Min Yoongi blushing is not a sight you were prepared to see, erupting your heart all too easily. 

“Never speak of this,” he tries to grumble indifferently, but that smile is still playing on his lips. When you go to tease him again, he says, “Will this even work?” 

You shrug. “Only one way to find out.” Enchanting a cup, you snap your fingers to beckon towards you. You fill it to the brim with the potion then hand it to Yoongi. 

He hovers the rim against his lips. Lost in thought or deliberation, you’re not sure. All you can tell is that it seems as though time has frozen for him. 

“Yoong-”

“I don’t want wings,” he sighs. You blink back at him. He takes a breath before adding, “Not now, anyways.”

You look back to the pot, wondering if the entire thing might have been a mistake. He drops the cup into it without much care for the brew that spills and cups your face. “I don’t want wings tonight. I want you.” 

“I’m right here?”

“I remember a little about what it was like to fly. Being with you reminds me of that,” he whispers. 

Tear prick your eyes, disbelief holding your voice hostage. “Me?” You croak, in confusion. “Yoongi, I-”

He holds you closer and suddenly all your words die in your mouth. You’re not even sure what you were trying to say. Pressing his forehead against yours, he mutters your name like a prayer and whispers, “You’re all the wings I need.”

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