#something just. so tasty. about these fics untouched by that.

[quietwingsinthesky]

something magical about fics written while a story is still in progress. i love u fics written during hiatuses. fix-it fics set after a season finale before the next one is announced. codas for episodes right after they air. fics with the knowledge of one book but none of the future ones that got released. fics continuing the story where it left off that either got it so wrong or surprisingly close to what happens in canon when it starts up again. mwah.

[another-lost-mc]

OMG THE ZEE FIC!! There's just something about yandere demon ocs that make me feral 🤭

Oh no, handsome demons being obsessed with you~

If the demon brothers and side characters can be a little sketchy, so can the OCs.

cw: yandere-ish themes and behaviours including stalking, implied violence and non-con magic/drugging to influence mc.

Karasu shares Levi's brand of obsessive jealousy and desire, easily concealed by his impressive connections and his naturally shy, passive demeanor. Being a social introvert has its advantages, after all. The amount of information as his disposal through the technology he created makes it easy for him to observe MC safely from a distance while gathering information about anyone else who attempts to get close to them.

Zee would be similar to Lucifer or Barbatos I think. Smart enough to know how much he can get away with, and he has enough restraint not to draw attention to himself in the process. Plus, like the other two demons, Zee has his own little tricks and conspirators that naturally help him avoid detection while keeping tabs on MC.

Azra and Belial are infatuation-at-first-sight types, where Azra is more jealous and Belial is more possessive when it comes to their love interests. Unfortunately, they both have poor impulse control and rely on their trusted associates (Zee for Azra, Shaitan for Belial) to keep things from getting out of hand and help them clean up any messes along the way. They're a weird combination of Mammon, Satan, and Asmo when it comes to their very boisterous affections for MC (and barely-restrained anger at anyone who gets in their way).

Tenebris has Solomon's magical tricks and Diavolo's nearly untouchable privilege. He's less inclined to use magic on MC, instead choosing to use whatever means necessary to quietly chase away or dispose of his competition. There's probably no surprise that he feels confident about escaping any real repercussions should his actions be discovered - his brother's not going to punish him the way he might any other demon (and if Diavolo is secretly taking part in the scheme, who could blame him, it's a fair compromise they both benefit from).

Simeon and the angel OCs have their sweet faces, pleasant personalities and natural charisma to help lure MC into their grasp. They're the wolves in sheep's clothing that stalk the tasty morsels in the flock. And what's even better - or worse, depending who you ask - is that many of the angels are willing to cooperate.

Metatron and Asmo will seem similar with their bubbly cheerfulness and how touchy-feely they are in MC's personal space.

Seraphiel, Gabriel and Uriel will seem similar to Lucifer or Satan with their calm, methodical approach to dealing with obstacles (and the incensed frustrations they hide behind sweet smiles, resolved later with sharp blades and split knuckles behind closed doors).

Habuhiah has Solomon's brilliance and Beel's warm, protective demeanor. She is calm and reliable, using her knowledge of magic and herbs to create to sweeten MC's affections for her and no one else. She spends most of her time working alone and far away from the Celestial Halls, and when MC visits, it's the perfect excuse to spend time together where the other angels are less likely to interfere.

[fizzyxcustard]

As You Are.

Masterlist of all fics are here

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader, Thorin Oakenshield x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: Angst, insecurity of weight and appearance, self hatred, dieting, fluff

Summary: Thorin becomes extremely concerned when he notices that you aren’t eating as much at meal times. He asks about this, only to find that you have been trying to diet as you are ashamed of your weight and think that Thorin would prefer you slimmer. 

Comments:  If you would like to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know. I’m beginning a new tag list due to the fact that I’ve been inactive recently. Just a quick piece to stretch my writing muscles again. Enjoy!

“My love, you have barely eaten anything,” Thorin said, growing concerned as he looked upon all the various foods covering the table, of which you had only ate a few bits. Normally your appetite could have easily outshone his. In fact, Thorin had always enjoyed watching you have your fill. After all, when you had been on the quest together to re-claim Erebor, food had been scarce through parts of the journey. Being the queen meant that she lived a very luxurious lifestyle now, and that included delighting in many delicacies. 

You raised your head and your gaze lifted from where it had been in your lap for the last five minutes as you mentally felt disgusted with yourself. The rolls. The stretch marks. It all made you hate yourself. Back in your world and most men would have made you feel inferior for your larger build and compared your appetite to that of a farmyard animal who lived out in the dirt. 

“I’m just not that hungry,” you replied softly, feeling your chest tighten. 

“Is there something wrong?” Thorin asked, his brows furrowed. “This is not like you at all.” 

“What? To eat like a stuffed pig?” you barked back, fighting tears. 

Thorin was aghast at your outburst and placed his silver cup down with a dull thump upon the table. “And this outburst is most certainly not like you!” Thorin’s voice was firm, and it instantly made you recoil back in guilt and shame. 

One of the serving women came out from the kitchens and saw what was happening between you and Thorin, so she immediately disappeared back to where she came from. 

“Lets take this back to our chambers,” Thorin said, a sharp edge now apparent in his tone. 

The walk back to your royal chambers was quiet. Only the tapping of Thorin’s boots against the stone could be heard as you ascended flights of steps and traced hallways to the royal wing. The atmosphere between you both was tense and fragile. 

Thorin tossed his robe over the end of your bed and then looked at you, his blue eyes shining bright with question and frustration. “What was that downstairs? And tonight is not the first time that I have noticed you eating less and skipping meals.” 

That was true. Most mornings and your breakfast was left untouched, and on those days when Thorin was required in council early, you had requested no food to be sent up to you at all. Whenever Thorin tucked into a tasty dessert after his main dinner, you could feel yourself salivating. That only made you hate yourself more. 

“I’m disgusting, Thorin,” you said, your voice breaking. With that, you fell down on the bed. You placed your head in your hands and wept. 

Thorin was puzzled, but also grief-stricken at the sight of his One in such anguish. “My love?” he whispered, sitting beside you and taking your hand. “Where has this come from? Who has made you feel such a way? I know that it is not me. However could you say you are disgusting? You are beautiful. Every inch of you.” 

Tears blurred your vision as you looked upon your husband. “Back in my world and being overweight is seen as something that makes you less desirable.” 

Thorin scoffed. “Are men in your world really so blind? Your body shape shows that you are healthy. Less desirable?” Thorin chuckled in disbelief. “They cannot be serious. I adore you just as you are. And you have no idea how that body of yours makes me feel.” 

That response made you giggle. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“Would I ever lie to you?” Thorin asked, raising his hand to your cheek where he brushed away your tears with his palm. 

“I just thought you’d want me slimmer....”

Thorin cut you off. “Shhh.” He curled his hand around your head, his fingers lacing in your locks. Then he placed his forehead against yours and kissed it softly. “You are utter perfection.” 

[kth1]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Pi-quant / adjective: having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavor.

⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, sub!jungkook/whiny lil thing, vamp!jk, oral (M&F), fingering, blood/blood play, biting, period blood, noona kink, adult content, bondage(M), unprotected sex, language, semi overstimulation, semi cock-warming, creampie, squirting, roommates to ?, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 12k ⟶ Summary: Jungkook is your awesome roommate who also happens to be a vampire. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, even with the playful tactics he does to fluster you. Until you realize those quipping taunts meant more than he led on. ⟶ Teaser: “He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.” ⟶ Author’s note: Hello everyone, this story is a precious gift to @jkeuphoriadreamland​ – as Yoly fully enjoys a bit of a whiny brat version of Jungkook. And NOONA KINKS. I tried my best to write him as a sub, and I truly hope you enjoy this fic. Nervous as all hell because you are a wonderful, glorious writer; and gifting you a fic of my own makes me kasdjhf. Anyways, this is unedited bc reasons - I had fun being your Peach Peep and writing this for you! (I didn’t mean to make it as long as it did… oops. xoxo)

“You smell pretty tasty.”

“Well, I’m not!” You retorted.

“Let me have a quick taste? That’s all I’m asking for.” Jungkook requested.

“Koo, no! You have plenty of bottles of blood in the fridge – just heat some up.”

Jungkook snorted with disgust, “Tch, that blood is synthetic. It’s not as good as straight from the source.” His finger trailed up the inside of your wrist, his body taking a step closer to yours.

You snatched your wrist back to yourself quickly, glaring up at your pest of a roommate. “Oh no no no – Jeon! You stop that!” Jungkook took another step, a grin present on his sculpted face. You respond with a pointed finger, raising your eyebrows in question. He wanted to play this game again.

“But Noona, please!” He whined with a pout. The vowels drawing out with the sentence with a childish tone, but his eyes shared something deep and dark. Thirst.

“I am not your bloodbag Jeon Jungkook!” your accusatory finger now prodding his chest.

“True, you’re not. But you are my friend.” He smiled, cupping your hands in his, “friends help another out.” He let out a little giggle when he saw your flustered face.

You scoffed, laughing as your roommate continued to plea. “You don’t need help! You have blood in the kitchen! B negative to be exact. It’s a fresh stock!” You shooed him, ushering him to turn around and pushing him towards the opening of the kitchen.

“Noona!” he droned again.

Oddly enough, Jungkook adored using this nickname towards you. Even though he is a hundred and something years older than you, his ripened age of vampire is in his early twenties – when he was changed into one, he found it humorous to call you Noona because your human years have surpassed his frozen age. Thus resulting, in his mind, you being ‘older’ than him. That, and the fact you get flustered up over the nickname.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your pesky little vampire friend could overpower you at any second if he really wanted to, but there was a firm alliance between the two of you. He has control over his hunger after all, he’s not a savage. Just because Jungkook is a vampire doesn’t mean he was a monster. For years vampires have lived among the human race, they aren’t out to rule the world or anything. Just trying to survive like every other creature.

Still, he and you were good friends. Actually, when you first met him you developed one of the biggest crushes on the mysterious vampire – but that feeling subsided drastically when you realized more about his lifestyle.

The two of you met through friends of friends. Trustworthy, as you had his back and he had yours. And now, you two shared an apartment in the busy city of Seoul, making ends meet as he works at the local vamp lounge, being a bartender. You wallow yourself forever in an office desk job providing customer service over a phone and through your computer.

“I swear to god if you ask me one more time, I’m going to throw my silver jewelry at you!” you threatened. “And stop calling me Noona!”

He scrunched his nose, annoyed at your rejection. “Ahh, you’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, turning away and departing towards the kitchen.

“It’s my blood! My property!” you yelled to the back of his dark ruffled hair, watching it sway with each of his steps before it vanished behind the wall.

“Then stop bleeding around me! Don’t get another paper cut and I wouldn’t ask!” he shouted from the other room.

The shuffling noises from the fridge to the microwave was audible enough to hear. A hint that he’s reheating a bottle of blood. Luckily for him, you were nice enough to stop by the convenience store on your way back home to pick him up a fresh batch of blood. Picking up his favorite flavor for his special acquired taste.

You looked down at the coffee table that was littered with a pile of mail, some ripped open and some still untouched. Your eyes darted at the piece of envelope that was sharp enough to break through your skin and cause a nasty little cut. You mentally scolded the piece for causing a stinging pain in your index finger. The irony of the rent notice cutting into your wallet was the act paper that cut into your flesh.

With your hand still close by, you examined the cracked cut that adorned a leaky line of red with a bead of blood threatening to drip off. “Wouldn’t ask.” You mocked Jungkook, speaking to yourself. “Oh please – you’re such a begger.” You sucked on your finger, attempting to take the small sting away and ridding your blood while you continued to reorganized the mail on the table.

The audible footsteps of Jungkook resonated as he approached back in the living room, bottle attached to his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to see what was up with his lingering, and he answered your gaze with narrowed cut, stink-eyes. Sipping bitterly hard on his warm thick fluid drink, he rolled his eyes and continued down towards his bedroom.

He heard what you said.

Jungkook was gone, a scheduled vacation to meet up with some old friends for the weekend. You have the whole apartment to yourself for once, and during this time you had an untimely visit from your aunt flow. It tainted your mood, unwanted pains and cramps forcing you out of whack. Your weekend consisted of kissing your lips to Ben & Jerry’s selection of ice cream flavors, watching movies and downing your own dosage of Advil and other pain killers.

The apartment wafted with your heady scent. Something you couldn’t pick up with human smell alone but to a vampire like Jungkook, he could pick it up instantly. Like a shark in a water, he can catch whiff of all kinds of scents with those advanced heightened senses.

You were fast asleep in dreamland, a heating pad atop your stomach that lulled your cramps at an ease. Curse the world that during this period, your cramps were ungodly painful, and you felt like complete and utter shit.

What you didn’t know was that your roommate had decided to cut his group hang out short – coming back home in the middle of the night. Not like he couldn’t come and go as he pleased – it was his house too. But tonight, it was slightly… different.

He stepped up the stairwell in the apartment complex, fidgeting with the ring of keys in hand. A strange smell entered his nose, something foreign yet so similar to him. It forced him to halt his actions, standing still while looking down the corridor. It was coming from this floor – his floor.

Jungkook reached level 3, turning his way down to his apartment with the scent leading him all the way to the front door. A succulent aroma enticing him, ticking his hunger. He soon realized that sweet pungent smell that he zoned into was your scent – your blood was lingering in the airway in a heavy dosage.

“Oh fuck!” he unlocked the apartment door in a rush, speedily running in as fast as the bulk of your musk entered his sinuses. Immediately Jungkook thought the worst, thinking something happened to you; you were hurt and bleeding out. Were you okay? Why are you bleeding?

His feet brought him to your bedroom door, “Y/n! Y/n!?” he’s frantic. The moment Jungkook busted your bedroom door open almost off its hinges, he was relieved to see you intact and unharmed – seeing your body sprawled out across your mattress fast asleep.

But the sudden commotion jolted you up out of your slumber, the booming sound of your door flinging open and Jungkook’s voice calling out your name startled you.

“Kook?” You whipped your head towards him, a groggy voice to match your terrible bedhead you sported.

“Shit, sorry! Fuck, I didn’t mean to wake you! I just – I,” his thoughts were cut off, that rambling of his mouth seized when you shifted yourself on the bed, rolling the comforter around. The blanket that sealed the majority of your scent now accidentally releasing in a wave, the sweet tangy smell hitting Jungkook face first.

His hand latched to his nose, plugging his ability to smell you any further. Internally he was fighting his natural urge to go for it, to have a taste of this juicy aroma that was causing his mouth to water and fangs to sharpen. This impulse was worse than any other time, like when you got papercuts or accidentally nicked yourself with a knife. You always had a peculiar smell, something that made him curious, and now he’s invested.

He knows he needs to leave the area, go get himself a bottle of blood or find a unfortunate prey on the street, quickly. He can’t touch you; he shouldn’t touch you – but god do you smell so good and your scent was incredibly inviting.

His backpack slunk off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, the intoxicating smell was so deadly that it was forcing a haze of thirst run over him. “I thought you were hurt.” He confessed.

You rubbed your eyes to remove any forming crusts, “Hurt? What? I’m not hurt. That’s why you woke me up?”

Jungkook shook his head, staring over at your confused and puzzled face. “N – no Y/n, you’re bleeding. Like a lot.”

It took moments for you to register what he was implying. Widening your eyes when you finally came to realization. “Oh no… shit. Sorry Koo. I’m fine I swear.”

You scurried, flipping the covers over you to witness a decently large stain that had accumulated through your night shorts. You bled through your bottoms, something you haven’t done in years, yet mother nature is always good at being unpredictable. You sighed, face palming yourself to how you practically ruined the fabrics and it will take a miracle to clean them completely.

Jungkook froze, all instincts fighting to break free the moment his sensory eyes laid on the darkened patch that decorated between your legs. His fist tightened; his body completely stiff with blown out eyes. “Run Jungkook, fucking run.” He ordered himself internally.

You carefully moved your body around, attempting not to get any more blood on your sheets. Thankfully you didn’t have any cramps right now. Typically, you were very cautious around your roommate during times like these. Plugging yourself up with tampons from beginning to end of your cycle, refusing to stay around him or the apartment for too long, even he would take time away to give you your space. It was out of respect for another, established as a primary rule before you two signed your contract to the apartment.

As you hobbled closer towards the door in which Jungkook stood, you couldn’t understand why he refused to move out of your way.

“Kook, I have to go to the bathroom.” You seek to brush pass him but Jungkook’s hand snatched your arm – grip strong.

In a slow raspy voice, he breathed, “Noona.”

You blinked up at him, watching a flicker of red flash over his darkened orbs. You felt caught, trapped by his intense stare. His build was larger than yours, almost menacing when his body hardened to block the frame of the doorway.

“Jungkook… relax…” You felt the temperature of your body shift. Should you be worried? Scared? Embarrassed?

“I can’t.” his other hand held onto your free arm, slowly backing you away from the door with trembling steps. His eyes frantically searched your face, pupils wide while the chocolate brown of his eyes shaded to a vibrant red.  

His eyes were demanding, a scare or warning that there was no going back from this. You’ve witnessed this look before when you visited the bar he worked at, when his eyes catch onto a delicious treat in the crowd. It won’t be easy to escape this situation. Jungkook was invested in getting what he wanted, what he was craving…

“This – this would be weird. It’s – Jungkook listen to me for a second.” The back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. “Jungkook!”

He hummed, glossing his eyes over you once more. His tone beckoning you to continue.

“This is period blood!”

He shrugged, rubbing his hands along the expanse of your arms, not allowing you to sit down just yet. He can feel the warmth of your body, how you are much warmer than usual. “It’ll just taste a little off. It’s not like I haven’t had it before.”

“Ew, Kook! No that’s gross! Like, do vampires actually enjoy? This?” You tried wiggling yourself out of his grasp. But he stepped closer – closing whatever distance there was between the two of you. You swallowed thickly, feeling quite intimidated and small under his presence. But you took note, his tight chest now flexed in front of you and hands held firm to your arms as if he was holding onto dear life.

“Y/n.” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your head. His phantom breath tickled the shell of your ear, “Please let me have a taste. Can I please…?”

It sounded so sensual coming from him. A shiver running down the base of your spine from the odd request. His hands now ghosted your hips, fingers etching a tingly sensation into your exposed skin. He carefully played with the waist band of your shorts – dipping a finger under it in a teasingly way.

Jungkook was controlling himself to all extremes. He knows he can’t attack you the way his nature wants him to, you’re his friend after all. He shouldn’t be stalking towards you like this. He cannot ruin you the way you’re ruining him right now. But he’s surely thinking about it.

You felt shy, nervous but oddly turned on by your roommate’s intimidation. All his persistence, his pleading whines slowly getting to you. You should feel disgusted – right? The idea of blood, your blood, your period blood, being taste tested by your friendly vampire. Which makes you question yourself even more when you tell Jungkook, “Okay…”

You’re shocked and so was Jungkook. Your confirmation is all he needed to hear, so he didn’t need to stop his action of snaking his hand down your shorts, slowly trailing his fingers towards your core.

A small gasp escaped him the moment the freshly soaked patch on your undies came in contact with the pad of his index finger. The urgency of pushing his finger down onto the cloth to collect whatever residue he could overwhelmed him.

It was an odd feeling – your roommate exploring his wondering hand down your shorts. What you didn’t expect was how it still felt somewhat good. The sudden contact of your lady bits now getting attention not by your own hand, but of someone else’s. Causing your body to jump with a sexual alert and now you’re the one holding onto Jungkook’s arms as if you were going to buck under him.

Jungkook brought his fingers back up to meet his face as he inspected the redden stain that now coated the tips of his digits. A strange manner – something no human in their right mind would do – Jungkook sniffed at your remainder. Naturally this would be so revolting for a human. But Jungkook is a blood-sucking vampire. Any form of human blood wired him up and he lived off of it, literally.

You watched him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and exhaled a very audible groan thought his nose.

“Fuuuuck, Noona…” his tongue dragged between his fingers, then lips to savor the flavor. Suddenly his hand disappeared back to the waistband of your shorts, this time less hesitantly now. “You tasted like this all along?” He speculated while advising you to sit down, tugging harshly at your bottoms.

You nervously fumbled trying to catch his hands before he could hoist your bottoms off. He was fast, desperate for more. “Kook! You said a taste!” you squealed.

“I’m not finished tasting!” he growled. A more aggressive side taking over his demeanor. In his swift act of removing your bottoms you heard the ripping of seams. Fabrics pulling apart. Then your used panties and shorts were discarded off to the side – there was no saving them now.

Jungkook held your hands, staring down at your now pinched thighs that hid his juicy treat. He can sense your uncertainty, your nervousness – so he tried to look as apologetically pleading as possible while kneeling down in front of you. “Noona – please!” The pitch of voice didn’t match the way of his eyes that stared you down. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise. Just let me show you!”

He shoved his face between your knees, attempting to pry your legs apart, that strong scent now mere inches away from his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t control his hunger any longer, not when there was free blood just asking to be eaten.

It was almost pathetic at how desperate Jungkook was being, wiggling his head further into you. His eyes glowing pure red as they fixated at the crack between your thighs. He dragged his lips across your skin, planting reckless open mouth kisses. The sight of your roommate on his knees for you sparked a deep desire within your core.

“Kook! Let’s talk about this!” You flushed as you pinched your thighs as tight as possible. Jungkook’s hands firmly held yours still. He grunted at your resounded rebuttal, pleading more with a high pitch – needy whine.

He wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear you as his hunger took over his senses. His throat felt dry though his mouth watered for your flavor. Heat embedded into your cheeks, rocking a wave down to your bundle of nerves. You squeaked at the shifting movements of Jungkook wedging his face even more. “Kook is this even right?!”

Complete turmoil ran through your mind – you’re sharing yourself with your friend. Someone you had a crush on, and now that attraction crept back up. An act that you two have never experienced before. This wasn’t your average ‘oh here take some blood from my wrist’ situation. Jungkook was aiming for more than just a snack and it didn’t seem like the vampire didn’t mind what-so-ever.

“I’m okay with it Noona – are you?” He nipped your leg lightly, slowly dragging his now sharpened fangs on the soft skin. His lips formed a pout as he looked up at you with reddened puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t bite you.”

Everything about this situation seemed so wrong, but Jungkook was making it sound so right. You never realized how the excitement of the situation was causing your chest to rise erratically, an ache in your core now persistently present and you swore the puddle down below wasn’t just blood now.

You were nervous and body slightly shaking. It’s late, it’s wrong, this whole circumstance entirely dangerous. But that didn’t stop your body acting on its own accord by widening your legs just enough for Jungkook’s head to slip in. A spark lit bright in Jungkook’s eyes when he laid them upon your dirty flower, the sight looking as appetizing as ever.  

“Yeah.” You breathed. “It’s okay with me. Don’t bite me or so help me god –“

“I won’t.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to slide himself in – licking up the blotches of blood that escaped onto your inner thighs. The sensual feeling of his tongue tracing patterns around your pussy.

Lewd noises came from Jungkook, devouring your juice as if it was the best meal on Earth. Satisfaction releasing through his nose that moment the flat of his wet muscle licked up between your lips, flicking at the tip of your clit.

He released your hands as he felt you ease into him, moving them to your upper thighs to kneed lovely circles into them.

“Oh!” you moaned. Your fingers carded though his hair – head nestled deep between your legs. “Koo-!”

He grinned against your sex. A slight giggle escaped his lips, “Yes, Noona?”

Jungkook looked up at you through his eyelashes and with a cock of his eyebrow, mouth entrapping your cunt. He flicked his tongue up you once more just to see your reaction.

You shuttered – back landing onto your mattress. You openly sighed with a ridged breath. The dangerous mouth of Jungkook eating you up like it was his job. “Fuck, Kook.” You giggled at your shameless moans. The feeling of bashfulness creeping up on you from enjoying the sensation, those disgusting thoughts fading away against the immense pleasure. Stimulation being particularly focused on your small bundle of nerves, especially when Jungkook sucked on it.

The mess that dressed your cunt was most definitely already cleaned up by now. But Jungkook continued to pleasure you in return – after all he did say he’d make it feel good.

He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.

“Let me thank you, Y/n…” he purred.

Snaking his fingers under you, he teased the pads of his digits around your entrance. Prodding slowly along with the rhythm that his tongue set. Your cunt clenched around the insertion of two of his fingers that eased in effortlessly.

You allowed him to have a taste and now he wanted to repay you back by giving you a treat you won’t forget. You gasped for air the moment Jungkook’s fingers curled up into the thicket of your inner walls, pressing long drawled out strokes against it.

Your hips bucked, jerking up into the wild tongue of Jeon Jungkook. It was sinful the way he ate you out, and even at the right angle you felt the sharp of his fangs that threatened to dip into you. His word was true, he wasn’t going to bite you, just clean you up.

With the constant thrusts of his vicious digits, he was also swiping out any hording residue of your unfortunate mishap that got you two in this situation in the first place. Of course, this luscious taste is distinct, but Jungkook can also relish in the flavor of your natural essence that extracted from your cunt. And the mix of these two delectable tangs together soon made their way to the top of Jungkook’s palate.

Your body tightened, the sudden rush of your climax rushing through you as goosebumps rise across your skin. The fist you steadily held in his hair, tightened. Your back arched off the mattress, Jungkook’s hand holding your hips securely down.

Vibrations ran through your body while you moaned Jungkook’s name, creaming all over his face. He groaned in return, lapping up every inch of you.

He leaned back, removing his mouth and fingers. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jungkook peered up at you with constraint. You remained laying, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely washed out. That just happened? You had one of the best orgasms of your entire life all because Jungkook was thirsty?

“You good, Y/n?” A mousy voice drew your attention out of your thoughts, back down at the man who hesitantly stood up. His hands moved your legs back together, and he assisted you to sitting back up right on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, reserving your thoughts for another time as you looked up to Jungkook. His eyes were no longer blood-lust red but instead his wide doe-eyed nuisance you’re oh-so used to seeing. They wouldn’t be so annoying if they didn’t work on you, but they did. Every. Damn. Time.

“I’m good, Kook! Uh – thank you.” Your expression of gratitude stammered out of your mouth faster than you could think.

Jungkook murmured under his breathe, but it was loud enough to hear the “Yeah, of course.”

Oh boy. You can feel it – the awkwardness setting in.

Before there were any more unsettling silences between the both of you, you spoke up. “I should really get myself cleaned up, if you can excuse me, I should really go to the bathroom.”

With that announcement you scurried, more like dashed yourself to the bathroom that was adjacent to your room. Leaving Jungkook to stand in your bedroom bewildered. He glanced down over at your discarded ripped bottoms that lay lifeless on the floor, still stained with your pungent aroma. He faltered battling with his inner thoughts when his lips quivered ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He seethed the profanity through his teeth while palming over his groin.

It’s been a week since the misadventure that happened between your roommate and you. Determined, you choose to take the path of act-like-everything-is-fine. Nothing was wrong, no of course not. Right?

You had a full week to dwell on these thoughts, by yourself. No interests in opening your mouth about it to your best friends, or any random stranger at a bar or even the same clerk you run into at the convenience store every now and then.

So what – you let Jungkook have a taste of your blood? You’re an adult, and it was perfectly fine! He needs blood to live anyways – if anything you were doing him a favor! So, you told yourself…

But strangely enough after that night, after the mind-blowing orgasm that left your core fluttering for days even at the thought of that night, Jungkook distanced himself from you. No matter how many times you addressed him to partake in a casual event that the two of you normally participated in like enjoying a movie on the couch, having drinks together, running to the store or even playing one of his blasted videogames – Jungkook declined more than often. It was always.

Jungkook was hardly to be seen, stating he picked up more shifts at the lounge or hanging out with others. Meanwhile his nights remained occupied, and your days were busy with your office job – it caused more of a space between the two of you. When his actions persisted, you couldn’t help but think there was something wrong.

By day four of post orgasm those flooded doubts came running in. What you two did wasn’t right, you fucking knew it. Jungkook must have known it too. “This totally fucked up everything didn’t it?” It’s the only excuse you could devise with the series of events.

Now day seven you sat there in the middle of the couch; legs crossed over another as your foot impatiently tapped in the air. It’s been exactly a week from that treacherous night, and the more you thought about the risky behavior you both endured, the more it couldn’t escape your mind. You’re putting too much effort into something that shouldn’t be minded.

At least, that’s what Jungkook was doing – right? Not minding the incident…

With a glass of wine in hand, you sipped with resent as your flickered through the list of movies to preoccupy yourself with. Something needed to stand out, something to distract you from your irritated mindset. Maybe a comedy, maybe some horror with a bit of action?

You settled for something, clicking play and started up towards the kitchen. Swallowing the remains of your glass in honor of filling it right back up to the brim. In the course of your tipping the wine bottle into your cup, watching the dark liquid pour out of the nozzle so fluidly, you heard the entrance of your apartment open up.

That can only be one person – Jungkook.

Placing the bottle of wine back down on the counter, you turn with a full glass in hand. You walked out of the kitchen to be met with the emptying of the living room once again. Jungkook must have bee-lined it straight to his room.

A sudden rage rose up within you, not particularly enjoying this cold-shoulder act Jungkook insisted on giving. You want to confront him; you’re getting tired of this odd behavior and if there was an elephant in the room that refuses to leave then you will kick it out with all your might.

“Jungkook!” You hollered, feet stepping down the narrow hallway towards his room that was hidden in the very far end. “Kook!” Your voice belted his name a few more octaves higher.

Your knuckles contacted his bedroom door, tapping against the wood. “Can you open up?”

Through the wood you can hear the rummaging of Jungkook throughout the room. He was ransacking his drawers, the sound of his chair wheeling back and forth as his steps moved to and fro. “I’m busy right now.”

A stern huff escaped your lips. To calm yourself you took a long swig of your wine, hoping it cooled you down – or even give you more of a liquid courage to speak up.

“It will only take a minute!” You barked.

He didn’t reply back to you, but instead he continued to rustle around his room for god only knows what. With this indication, you felt peeved and your hand was fast to the doorknob. Twisting the handle fast enough to fling the door open so you can face him.

Jungkook was in the midst of tucking in his black fitted button up shirt, belt still hanging loose through the loops. Matching with his black sleek trousers and set of tuxedo shoes that went along with the monochromatic attire for work. For a brief moment, your mind zoned in on how Jungkook would look… when not just dressing, but undressing. That thought bubble was popped abruptly when he whipped his head in your direction and yelled at you.

“I said I was busy!” he repeated, tone fully capturing the blunt of his attitude.

“Jungkook, come on you’ve been avoiding me all week.” You inclined.

Jungkook ruffled out the last bits of his shirt, tapering it into the band of his pants. He fastened his belt security along his waist with the clinks and clacks. “I’m late Y/n. I don’t have time for this.” Jungkook breezes past you towards the bathroom with his stationary bag lugged over his shoulder. He eyes himself in the mirror, tidying up his hair and quickly rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

Your feet pattered to the bathroom door, now leaning your body against the frame of the entrance. You can notice the harsh side-eye you receive from Jungkook, but you pay no attention in giving a reaction to it. “Kook, what did I do for you to avoid me? Was it because of what happened?”

There was sadness laced inside your voice, but it was taken over by puzzlement. You were just concerned, what happened to the dynamic between the two of you? Why can’t Jungkook even look you in the eyes half the time and run away to steer clear of you?

He spit his mouthwash into the skin, checking his teeth in the mirror for any imperfections. He shimmied the other string of his bag on to his other shoulder and turned to leave the bathroom, seeing that you now stood in his way he gave you an uneasy glare. “Move.”

“What the? No! –“ you protested. Your finger jotted out towards him, “Stop avoiding me!”

He can tell by the flare of your nostrils that you were fuming, and your tone of voice rising with each word you spoke only added to the obvious fact that you were indeed pissed. If it wasn’t for the clear sight that you’re holding up a cup full of alcohol, he’d most definitely would have smelt it lingering off of your breath. Jungkook attempted to grab the glass of wine out of your hand, assuring you that “you probably drank too much already.”

“Hey! – No, give me that!” You argued, holding tight with your fingers circling around the base. He’s shuffling around, pulling at your wrist to let go of the damn thing, but it was when his hand latched over yours that covered the base an unexpected shatter echoed in the apartment.

Wine spilled between the two of you, decorating the bathroom floor and your feet with the murky dark liquid. Pieces of bladed glass scattered around, and you winced when you felt the sudden jab of a shard that dug itself into your palm.

You yelped, jumping back in surprise and pain. You held your hand out, outstretching your fingers to see the blossoming of red liquid leaking from the shard. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Shit! Y/n, I’m sor –“ Jungkook cut himself mid-sentence after reaching out towards you. The blood oozing out from that blade of glass was spilling out your sweet tasteful scent, and it wired Jungkook. His inner thirst now aroused.

Pain was plastered over your face as you ripped the piece out from your palm. You pressed firmly against the open wound, looking at the mess that is now below you. Glass everywhere and wine seeping into the cracks of the tiles.

Your eyes met up with Jungkook’s just as he was pushing pass you, down the hall and out the front door. Astonished at Jungkook’s utter rude mannerisms, you held your mouth wide open. He just up and left you in the middle of a mess that was caused by him. That you now have to clean up after taking care of this fresh cut inside the palm of your hand.

And he still didn’t answer your questions.

Another week went by with your poor attempts of consulting Jungkook and him avoiding you like the plague. And with the last ‘real’ incidence where the two of you spoke more than a few syllables, you ended up with a fresh cut to your hand and having to mop and sweep up glass shards and your favorite flavored wine off of the floor. And at this point, you felt like you were avoiding him just as much.

The animosity in the air between the two of you went down a gruesome hill. Tumbling down into smithereens where neither one of you can easily look at another. Jungkook still remained busy as ever, staying out of the house only until you leave for work. The only things that made you know he was still alive was the empty blood bottles left in the sink, the shower curtain being tossed every-which-way, and the half-hazard filing through your piled up mail when he picked out his belongings and left yours disorganized.

Needlessly to say, Jungkook stressed you the fuck out. You were bending to his routines, you were seeking shelter away from him, and all casual activity between the two of you completely vanished. Your confusion turned into spiteful hatred, wanting to smack your roommate upside the head.

Now you’re on week three of roommate-distancing. Your room became your safe haven. The living room was a crossfire full of casualties. The kitchen is a death wish. And the bathroom became your secret chamber when you needed to relax with a steamy relaxing shower and your bubbly loofah.

All this time, your mind already grew curious about Jungkook. There was no way you can repress your emotions when it came to him completely shutting you out. But you did stop remembering that night that turned the sequence of things between the two of you. You wanted to forget; you don’t want to think about it – ever.

You spent weeks dwelling over this roommate dilemma, and it tainted your mood entirely. Your job lacked enthusiasm, your tv didn’t please you enough after watching the same junk over and over. Tonight, you felt appropriate to go out for the night, treat yourself. Because you out of all people know you deserve some fun after the bullshit you are handling.

Fuck it – you’re going to the bar.

Pleather jeans hugged your legs, a blouse that you had tucked in lays low on the neckline flaunting your clavicles and upper chest. You jeweled yourself with a silver body chain that connected at your neck and dipped down between your breasts underneath your shirt. To top of your rocking outfit, you selected your best pair of open-toed red high heels lacing up the front and pinning up half of your now curled hair.

After finishing off the last touches of your make-up you gave yourself a quick look over in your standing mirror. Amused with your selection of attire you gave yourself one last twirl before grabbing your purse and heading out your front door.

You just needed time out, grab yourself a few drinks. There’s no shame of going to the bar alone, plus you enjoyed becoming acquainted with the bartenders here and there. It always gave you a sense of comfort knowing, even though it’s apart of their job, you can vent to them about your worries.

The Snake Pit, a clever yet sinister name for a bar tended to be one of your favorite hot spots to visit. Not only it had a dancefloor and an elongated bar that stretched to the full extent of a wall, electro pop music, and it had its own special feng shui to it.

Heel’s clacking against the hard-wooden floor beneath you, you strutted yourself over to an available seat by the bar. You smiled sweetly at the oncoming bartender who was headed your way, “Hey there! It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?”

You handed over your card to the young chipper male who gleamed down at you, “Open a tab for me please. I’ll start with a mojito, Jin.”

“One Mo-Jin-To coming right up!” he smiled, whipping around to grab the appropriate glasses and mixtures. You bobbed your head to the music waves as you checked out the crowds around you. It was packed here tonight, and you’re happy to see people enjoying a great time.

“How’s it been?” Jin questioned after placing the glass on a coaster in front of you. He leaned in resting his elbow against the bar. Jin was a notorious little flirt, but with good intentions. He just wanted to make his customers as happy as possible – or maybe just enjoyed swooning the ladies to give him better tips.

“It’s… alright. Been better. Just needed to blow off some steam. And of course, I came to visit my favorite bartender. Can’t ever forget a face like yours.” You laughed along with Jin, taking a quick sip of your drink. “Oh? You made it a strong one.” You gave him a thumbs up, “yup, definitely my favorite bartender.”

Jin responded with a playful wink before leaning back up to assist other customers who beckoned for his attention. “Let me know when you need round two!”

And round two came sooner than later. Possibly drink three being concocted as you continued to sip down your mojitos like they were juice. When you grabbed your freshly made glass, you made your way to the dance floor to find some fun.

Within the course of an hour the beat of the music picked up drastically. Bodies swayed left and right in formations, lights flickering and buzzing around your sights. You were so into the rhythm that your hips moved naturally to the tunes.

Until a hand grabbed at your waist, turning you slightly towards them. A man slightly taller than you and maybe just as tipsy as you decided to take his chance on dancing with a pretty lady. “Hey!” he slurred over the loud music. “Let’s dance?”

His invitation wasn’t much of an invite, considering that he was already dancing along with you. But you accepted with a wide smile, urging him to come closed so you could relax your arm around his shoulder as you continued to drink. “Might as well, it is a dancefloor.” You giggled.

The bar felt like you were playing musical chairs with suitor on suitor. Eventually your drink vanished completely, and you were on your third dance with another random, but handsome, stranger.

“You smell just as pretty as you look.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, rocking his pelvis into your backside. His hands found a home on the curve of your hips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his confession.

“That’s got to be one of the better pickup lines.” You hummed. “I’ve heard worse” you teased as you whipped yourself around in place, now placing your hands through the man’s hair. It was thick and hardened with some sort of product. You glanced around at the bar, noticing your favorite bartender flirting along with an innocent girl that sat right in front of him. A couple having a heavy make-out session just a few feet away from their interaction.

But you found a spare seat that was left empty, a motivation for you to go back for another drink? Or just relax from dancing since you felt like you needed a break.

“That’s not very nice,” the man prodded. Nudging your head aside so he could place a tender kiss against your neck.

With reflex you jerked your body away, avoiding the man and pushing him away. “No thank you.”

As you were turning on your heel, the male stepped close to you once more. Arm linking around your body, “Where do you think you’re going? Thought we were dancing?” He grinned eerily, an odd ominous vibe now shining from him.

Your hands came up to shove him away, but there was a movement in a blink of an eye that you didn’t catch. Maybe your vision was impaired, but you could have sworn you were just in the clutches of this man, and now he stands five feet away from you with a bewildered look.

“Back off.” A low grumble resounded next to you, a face popping into your perception. Jungkook?!

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth against another as the muscles flexed on the sides of his jaws. His arm was now linked around your waist, holding you close to him.

“What the fuck man?”

“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Jungkook challenged the man, stepping in front of you now to face the male. From here you can see his back tensed up under his dark t-shirt. You couldn’t comprehend the duel going on between the two, or maybe you couldn’t hear over the voluminous blaring of techno beats.

When the male fled the dancefloor, Jungkook turned to look at you. “What the fuck Kook!” You blurted. He was taken aback for a second, confused why you’re all of a sudden yelling at him. “Excuse me? Shouldn’t you be thanking me!?”

“Not that. I don’t care. But what the actual fuck?!”

All your pent up and inner rage towards your roommate from the past few weeks was making you hostile. Even seeing his face stirred you up to the point you wanted to hit him for being so idiotic.

“Y/n, seriously. Not right now. I just need to get you out of here. Please.” He grabbed your elbow, leading you a few feet before you tugged back on your arm.

“No!” Your hand gripped around his wrist, trying your damn near hardest to pull him off of you. “You need to explain right the fuck now!” You stomped your feet, throwing a small tantrum.

Jungkook’s patience was very thin, especially when it came to drunk you. He stepped closer, tugging your body next to his. “Fucking listen to me for a second, dammit. I need to get you out of here. I’ll talk to you when we’re outside.” He spat back at you.

“Why?” You rebutted, glaring up at his face.

“Cause you’re fucking bleeding, Y/n! And if it wasn’t for me that sleazy vampire would have had you for dinner!” He bit back. Both him and you were bickering back and forth, drawing attention from surrounding bystanders.

“What’ do you mean I’m ‘bleeding’” you air quoted with your fingers. You belted out an obnoxious laugh. Your unpleasant emotions were getting the better of you – resulting in making an ass out of yourself when all your roommate was trying to do was help you out. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that we’re friends too, right?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his brows raised as high as they can reach. You were acting quite absurd and he didn’t understand what had gotten into you. “Y/n, I can fucking smell you.” He seethed out the words through his teeth. That’s when you noticed his fangs were now elongated and sharp. Jungkook wasn’t joking around.

A moment of realization kicked in and your eyes widened. “Wait, really?” You trembled.

“Yes. Now let’s get you out of here.” Jungkook escorted you through the crowd, hand now holding yours. The two of you quickly grabbed your tab from your helpful bartender while Jungkook looked out for any wondering eyes. If both he and that strange vampire could smell you, he was sure others can too.

Jungkook followed close behind you, being extra protective while scanning the areas outside on the way back to your apartment. When the two of you made it about four blocks down in complete silence, besides the sound of your heels hitting the concrete below, you decided to chirp up. ��You said we’ll talk outside. So, talk.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Your feet came to a halt, twisting your neck to look at Jungkook who walked a few paces behind you. “Seriously? You can’t imagine anything, not one thing, as to what I want to talk about?”

Jungkook ignored your stare, dismissing the obvious topic of interest by responding with. “Well, it’s easy for a vampire to tell another vampire apart. For one, they don’t have a heartbeat. So, when I saw him up on you, I grew curious.” A smug little grin pulled up on Jungkook’s face.

You balled your hands into fists, frustration pulling on every nerve in your body. “Don’t play coy with me! Stop. Fucking. Ignoring. Me. Jungkook.” You marched yourself right up to where he stood, invading his personal space. “I’m tired of it. Just talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “It was me, not you.”

You snorted; the classic phrase used in so many cliché break up scenes. But this time, it’s not a break up. It’s literally two friends who have a weird misunderstanding with another. “Oh? So that’s it? It’s you and so you avoid me?”

“Keep walking, we’re only a few blocks away.”

You shook your head in defeat, crossing your arms and held tight to your body. The faster you get home, the faster you get to clean yourself up and the faster you can close off Jungkook. Little did you know that your furious speedy walk gave your butt just enough jiggle in those pleather jeans you decided to wear. Giving Jungkook something to admire from a far as his senses were being laced with your aroma.

“I’m sorry Y/n…”

“No, I’m sorry I have a shitty friend like you.”

Jungkook kept up with your pace, walking step by step along with your strides. He knows you don’t truly mean the words coming out of your mouth. It was his fault, and he was trying to admit blame for it all.

As the two of you made it up the stairwell in your apartment complex, Jungkook tried speaking up to you once more. “Y/n, look I know what I was doing wasn’t –“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You slotted the key into your door, twisting it open and walked yourself into the darkness of your living room. Your night out became a terrible mess, rounding back to the initial problem that you’ve been trying to avoid. Once you kicked off your heels, tossing them aimlessly across the floor mat, you did the same to your purse and keys.

“Y/n.” Jungkook’s voice broke through. He reached for your arm, tugging you to face him. “Look I’ll talk all right?”

“Oh? So, I go weeks with being ignored by you, but you can’t last a night when the tables are turned?” You mocked Jungkook, looking at your roommate straight into the eyes.

“I had to, Y/n!” Jungkook pleaded for reason. “Please, I needed time okay?”

By now you were sobering up, any remains of your alcohol intake must have been sweated out during dancing and on your walk home. Jungkook was sporting his infamous doe-eyes while he looked desperately back into yours.

“Time? Time?!” you rose your voice. “Time to be an asshole? Needed time to ignore me when we could have discussed the problem? You literally circumvented yourself away from me for weeks? Was eating me out that terrible?!” Your fingers found their way to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Whoah! Y/n, Y/n whoah whoah. No!” Jungkook grabbed at your shoulders and leveled his head with yours. Surprise took over his body, clearly the both of you were having polar opposite battles going on with your minds. “No that’s not the – that isn’t. Gah… Fuckin’ hell. Eating you out was great! I enjoyed it.” Jungkook eased his hands over your shoulders, “Wholeheartedly, even when I don’t have much of a heart to comment by, I promise you. I think… it was too good actually. But, that wasn’t the problem at all!”

Your face froze in place with your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. Only a few times you closed it, just to open it up and speak. “Wait… I’m confused. What’s the problem then?”

Jungkook exhaled a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “Y/n. Your – uh your blood is a problem for me.”

“Well now I’m slightly offended, Jeon! You said I smelt good!” You wacked his chest with your palm. During which, a brief flicker of red cut through his irises and it made you pull your hand right back from him. It was at that moment, even when Jungkook’s gazed turned to a scowl, you knew he meant something else.

“You should really get yourself cleaned up.” His voice didn’t sound like a sincere worry, but more of a threat.

You snapped back at him, “You should really learn how to control your hunger.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, licking his lips with a fixed gaze. He leaned forward suppressing the enigmatic smile he wanted to show you. “May I remind you, Noona, you’re bleeding right now.”

There it is again, that pet name that he enjoys cooing you with. The name that slightly makes you shy because you yourself don’t know how to react. Or maybe it riled you up, it was his way to flirt around with you shamelessly.

Your heady scent wasn’t as strong as the last time, no not at all. It was as dull as usual when you covered it up with tampons, only a faint aroma wafting from you. Not a pile of blood decorating your skimpy nighties in the middle of the night.

But it was the fact that Jungkook has already had a taste of your blood, he knows what it tastes like. He knows how good that succulent flavor drips so freely from you. Jungkook refuses to let any other vampire pry on you, like that bastard back at the bar. This blood was favorable, and god dammit he’ll protect it at all costs.

You crossed your arms over your body, staring down Jungkook who was quickly turning into the Jungkook from a few weeks ago. “And if I am bleeding, you sir, aren’t getting any of it.”

Jungkook held back his tongue, prodding it against the inside of his cheek instead. Your scent secretly became a dangerous drug for Jungkook. Almost addictive in a sense. He was lucky to have been walking the streets near The Snake Pit, smelling your custom flavor in the air. But he was so completely unlucky when he skipped out searching for a quick drink that he was left thirsty.

And the agonizing walk from the bar back home to make sure you remained safe, getting a nice view of your ass swaying with each step in those tight pants, only tantalized him further because all he could do was sniff you out. You invading his vicinity only teased him worse.

He let out a breathy sigh again, “What can I do?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“I haven’t eaten tonight, and I know there isn’t any more bottles because you stopped buying them… what can I do to get some of your blood right now?”

You quizzed Jungkook, “I don’t know, what can you do?”

Jungkook reached for your hand, unfolding your arms from your front. He raised it to his face, where he placed your palm flat across his cheek. His hunger was forming an empty pit in his stomach, he physically could feel his abdomen churn inwards at the thought of your blood touching his tongue. His voice came out as a soft whisper, “I’m so sorry for mistreating you recently.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubbed along your inner wrist, stepping closer to your body. He can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, the warmth of your hand against his face grew clammier the longer he stared at you. “I – I would really love some, if you let me. I was good to you last time, right Noona?”

His words were sweet, his eyes were sweeter with the pleading look he emitted even when the color of his orbs turned to that deadly crimson. Fuck. You don’t know what it was about Jungkook that triggered you in the most sinful of ways.

Was it the way his smile looked so dashingly sexy even when he’s being a childish punk. The effortless good looks no matter what style of clothes he was wearing? His entire aspect, the living (well actually dead) embodiment of Jeon Jungkook was everything you actually craved.

You breathed, “Yeah… You were very good to me.” All of those memories of that night flooded back. The feelings. The satisfactions. How hot and heavy Jungkook’s tongue felt against your swollen sex.

“Let me be good to you again.” Jungkook advised, kissing your inner wrist now.

“Only on one condition.” You stated as your grab both of Jungkook’s wrists in your hands. You guided Jungkook down the apartment hallway, ignoring the poorly lit areas and towards his room. After pushing open his door with a foot, you pointed to his bed.

“My bed is the condition?” He grinned amused at the option in front of him. Thinking that this condition was nothing serious, but easier for him. He complied to sit down facing you with a questionable look. “What now, Noona? You have me.”

Your hands reached behind your neck, unclasping the body chain you decided to wear out tonight. “This. This is my condition.” You held the long piece of jewelry up. “It’s pure silver. I’m sure you understand.”

Now you drew Jungkook’s curiosity even further, what did you have in mind with that chain? He never knew his roommate was so kinky before. You peaked his interests with entertainment.

“Wrists. Now.”

“But how am I going to be good for you if you cuff me?”

“Do you want my blood or no? Because I’m certain just about a minute ago you said –“

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” He shook his head while displaying his wrists out to you.

The burn of the chain sizzled against his skin as you twisted it around another, tying his wrists together. It was painful for a vampire, not only does it burn but it also paralyzes the affected, so they cannot pull the material off of the area so easily.

Jungkook’s face had irritation written all over it. The pain biting him with annoyance. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that whatever he may do will give him the blood he desired.

“This is for you ignoring me for weeks.” You raised his arms above him, pushing him back onto his bed and securing his wrists to one of the posts with the assistance of a sturdy belt.

Jungkook groaned out, “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Apology is not accepted.” You smiled.

He watched you carefully, eyeing your bar outfit, your face, the excitement behind your eyes sparking at the actions you chose to partake in. “So, this is my punishment?” He winked.

You shrugged, making your way over to the other side of his bed to sit down next to him. “I’m pretty sure this is a reward for you, since you want my blood.” You reminded him waving your wrist in front of his face.

There was struggle, Jungkook’s eager bloodshot eyes now zoning in on the span of your wrist. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. He was thirsty.

When his eyes glanced back over to yours, he had desperation screaming from them. His breath turned jagged, inhaling your lingering scent some more. “Noona – please. What do you want?”

You leaned back laying down and used Jungkook’s abdomen as your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His innocent pleas sounded mesmerizing to you. You wanted to hear him talk, to confess.

“Besides my blood what do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leered down at you. With this angle he can see the expanse of your neck on show, stretched long and elevated on his waist. He can only dream about sinking his fangs into that supple skin, slurping up whatever poured out of you.

“I want to put my mouth on you.” He declared.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “I said besides my blood.” Indicating that he would want to repeat the same process as last time.

“Not down there. Not right now at least.” His eyes conveyed a secret promise.

A blush snuck up to your cheeks, raising the color of your skin to a warmer shade.

“Would you like that, Noona? Will you let me put my mouth on you?” He said with excitement. The strain of his wrists tugged at the post, Jungkook eyeing you through heavy lids. “Please, let me do something. I’ve been smelling you all night.”

On a whim you perched yourself up over Jungkook, straddling above his waist. “No.” You smiled wryly once you grabbed at the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook parted his lips, licking over his set of teeth. The two of you exchanged a brief heated look, a challenging gaze. Then the sudden tear of his shirt ripped in two as you tore the seam apart with all your might. You exposed his flexed stomach all the way to the top of his chest. “And that’s for my shorts and underwear.”

Jungkook whined, not at the lose of his shirt, but at the bold movement of your actions. It was hot. Your initiative was something he’s never seen before coming from you. And the image of you hovering your dirty flower right above his pelvis is forever going to be ingrained into his memory.

His chiseled upper body was on full display for your eyes now, disregarding the shreds of his shirt still linked around his arms. Fuck, Jungkook was sexy. The entire idea of this sculpted creature under your demand was turning you on second by second and you decided to take advantage of your leverage.

“Noona, just a taste please?” Jungkook begged with a reedy voice. He thrusted his hips up into you, wiggling his eyebrows. He was under your control, completely wrapped around your finger and it didn’t stop him from begging.

You fingered at his nipples, running your thumbs around the softened skin to cause them to perk up. You traced patterns with the tips, running up and down along his abs. “Where do you want to put your mouth?” You inquired. Tapping your digits around his cool skin. “Here?” you prodded, pointing at his upper chest right under his clavicle. “Hm, what about here?” you ran your finger over the prominent vein that bulged out of the side of his neck from constraint.

You watched the way Jungkook’s eager looks turned into anguish, the agony of not having what he craved was tormenting. Your teasing wasn’t helping, you were testing him.

“Anywhere.” He stuttered. “Everywhere.”

Jungkook gasped when you pushed down your weight onto his hips, his growing bulge now receiving attention instead. You smirked; you knew Jungkook was turned on by this. “Jeon? What do we have here?”

He swallowed thickly. Trying to straighten out his mind to respond to you properly but nothing but natural instincts were getting in the way. “I’m hard. I’m horny. And you’re extremely hot right now. As much as I am hungry, I’m thinking many other things about you right now.”

“Enlighten me, Koo.”

Jungkook dropped his head back onto the pillow under him with a whimper. He was parched, he was sexually aroused, and infuriated that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.

“Noona please!” He cried. “Do whatever you want, please. Just help me out.” Jungkook drawled on and on. His wrists continued to strain against the custom-made handcuffs that burned into his skin, rendering him from movements.

Jungkook pointed with his chin towards the junction of your bodies, “Help me.”

It dawned on you, how sleeping with your roommate right now probably wouldn’t be the wises of ideas. And those uncertainties were calculating on your face. Jungkook notices this, jumping at his opportunity to speak. “Y/n. Hey – Look at me. I’m okay with this.” His voice came out soft, still whimpering under you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck yes! You have no idea how much I need you to touch me right now.”

You hesitantly unbuckled his belt and unlooped the button to his jeans. His dick was prominently swollen, being constricted against the layers of materials. With a swift tug at his bottoms just below the curve of his ass, you released the beauty of his hardened thick cock, red at the tip with a spruce of precum glossing over the head.

Jungkook exhaled a shuttered breath, his cock aching to be touched. His member twitches cutely at the ghost of your hand hovering above it, and another whine resonated through his nose. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his dick, the vein that ran over the underside of it. How soft his frenulum looked to the touch.

“Is this what you want Kook?” you firmly grasped at the base of his dick, right above the well-groomed hairs. His hips jolted up at your touch, flexing his muscles and pulling his arms from the restraints.

“Y – Yes!” he choked out. “Help me Noona. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t doubt his promised plea. Last time he promised you something he surely delivered it.

You smothered his leaky precum over the head and through the slit. Fisting his shaft nicely just to watch Jungkook thrust his head back further into the bed. The angel of his jaw tilted back that showed up his thick neck was a delicious sight to witness.

To surprise him, you dipped your head down. Kissing your lips to the tip of his dick and running your tongue along the area. You hummed in satisfaction when Jungkook’s thighs started to shake underneath you. Who knew you’d have this power and demand over your friend.

Your mouth sank down, taking him in an inch and he choked out vowels. He tasted of a sweet salt, miraculously this part of his vampire body remained animated. “Noona!” His teeth remained clenched together, fangs threatening to bite into his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

The wetness of your mouth coated along the rest of his cock, submerging him as far as you can go and wrapping your hand around whatever portion you couldn’t reach. His tip touched the back of your throat when you took him in. Subconsciously you made sure to suck hard as you pulled away.

A string of saliva linked between your mouth and his dick, thinning out right before it snapped. Jungkook groaned out at the sight. He was painfully hard, and his stomach constantly reminded him he needed to drink before he depleted himself.

He whimpered as you abandoned his member, letting it relax against his stomach. He huffed out with a buck of his hips, “I was good to you last time!” he reminded.

“That you were.” You sat at the edge of the bed, untucking your blouse from the band of your pants. “So good.” You blushed.

“What are you doing?” His kicked you softly with the side of his foot. Your fingers found their way to the zipper of your bottoms, undoing them and shimmying them off. The blouse and bra you wore was soon tossed to the side. “I’m going to ride you if you let me.” You peered over your shoulder, baring your backside to him.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, beaming the red hues that decorated them. “Yes, please. My god – please ride me.”

You straddled yourself over Jungkook’s waist, making sure not to fully sit down on top of him just yet. You wanted to tease him of the sight from a few weeks ago. Your lovely lady-bits wafting his favorite flavors together. “I guess I was bleeding a little bit huh?” You laughed to yourself.

His mouth watered; lips parted. Your smell lingers into his nose and filled his lungs. Jungkook was thankful you tied him up otherwise he was sure to have attacked you to get this treat.

“Rub yourself on me, please. I want you to coat my dick.”

He caught you by surprise, this lewd sentence spilling out of his mouth. But you conceded, sitting yourself back on his throbbing member, just to run yourself up and down on it. Your wetness caused an embarrassing and loud squelching noise, your taint painted on Jungkook’s cock like a canvas.

He met the swing of your hips with his own, grinding up into your slick sex. His pressure was forceful up into your folds as if his dick was asking for permission to enter you. “Is this what you want?” you teased again.

He nods vigorously, controlling his impulse to thrust up into you. His hunger remained dominant, but the lust for you became top priority.  

You locked eyes with him the second the tip of his dick threatened to push past your hole. He was yearning to break through and glide his dick against your velvety sleek walls. His lips are pink and bitten while he continued to let out those cute pleading noises you enjoy hearing so much. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed in a tormented bliss.

He was ultimately at your mercy, within your clutches and you could break him at any moment. Leave him hot and heavy to get back at him if you really wanted to. You didn’t speak, just waiting for a sign that he was close to his breaking point.

Jungkook whines again brokenly, “Please, please Noona. I want to be inside you. Can I please?”

So needy. So deprived of his wants and wishes. You feel for him, you really do. Feeling him shake like a leaf from the anticipation of plunging his cock so far up into you. And you allow it.

You leaned down further, allowing just the head to sink in. He groans out your name the moment you slipped him back out, just to repeat the process once again now easing yourself all the way down on him. You stiffed a moan yourself, humming along with the series of loud whiny noises escaping his mouth.

“No more ignoring me, Koo.” You rolled your hips up. “If we have a problem, we should address it. Right?” You circled, bobbing yourself on his cock. “Right?” Your hands found perch on his chest, pinching his nipples enough to harden them and forcing an animalistic growl out from Jungkook.

He gasps, choking out breaths, “Right!” his eyes skewed shut. Jungkook’s wrists were bleeding, pinned together tightly. His lust fogged mind wished to get his hands on you, to guide the movements of your hips or even flip you over just to pound himself inside your cunt.

His eyes opened just enough to stare at the way your body moved on top of him, a small raspy groan leaving him. God you look like a delicious treat – he’s even questioning himself how he lasted this long without taking you before.

The pants that hugged his thighs were preventing him from widening his legs. The fabric softening the blow of your ass landing down on him. The stinging burn of pain mixed with the immense pleasure of your pussy clenching around his smooth cock has got him spinning down in spirals.

“I – I’m, Noona. So close.”

“No.” You asserted, slowing down your pace to a halt. “Not yet.”

Jungkook kicked his feet out, eyes blown wide. “What, Why!?” His cock twitched inside of you the same way his hips jerked up.

“Bite me first.” Your wrist made its way in front of Jungkook’s mouth. His tongue swiped out licking your delicate skin. His mouth latches onto you with no hesitation, the sharpness of his fangs burying themselves inside forcing you to hiss at the sudden infliction.

It was like biting into a peach, liquid spilling all over her mouth. Jungkook sucked with fervor, drinking down your delectable juicy liquid while his hips jutted up into you. He wanted you to continue, keep moving before his orgasm gets denied. He muffled a cry against your bleeding wrist when you swivel your hips at a certain angle.

You were panting in the open air, picking up your speed to meet his urgency. Face gorgeously flustered, unshed tears sparkling from Jungkook’s eyes. Your blood pushed Jungkook over the edge, freefalling down into a pit of pure bliss. He chases his orgasm, using a sharp uncoordinated sloppy thrust to bury his cock deep inside your cunt as he came. Cum jetting out of him in streams like a fountain.

His fangs retracted from your wrist, being replaced with light butterfly kisses over the wounded area. Jungkook flops back to the pillow, short of breath. Portions of your blood smeared around his lips and also his dick.

“Holy shit – “ his words faltered.

You gave him his moment, allowing him to take it all in before you moved off of him. Lifting your body off of Jungkook he cuts your action with a sharp tone, “Where are you going?” His eyes dawdled on your exposed body, forcing you to freeze mid pull-out.

“I? I was going to clean up?”

He shook his head frantically, “Don’t get off me just yet. Ah. You didn’t cum – I want to make you cum.” Jungkook edged his hips up with a spasm of overstimulation, his member hiding back inside of you. “Sit back down on me please.”

He was softening inside of you; you can feel it slowly shrink and the idea of cock-warming to get you off wasn’t something that sounded promising.

“Kook, it’s really okay. I don’t need to.”

“I want you to. Get me out of these chains.”

You sighed, leaning forward enough to hold Jungkook’s cock inside of your super slippery walls. Giving Jungkook the opportunity to place hot open-mouth kisses to your breasts that dangled down in front of him. The make-shift bondage was released, pulling the chains off of his ruined wrists. They’ll heal back shortly anyways.

His hands latched to your waist in a blink of an eye, digging his nails into your skin. There was a pool of mixed liquids between the two of you, glistening in the light. He didn’t bother to yank his pants off, he wanted to focus on you instead. He guided you to run your hips a certain way, tilting them down so your clit can run against his pelvis.

“Hold me inside you, can you do that for me Noona? I’ll get hard again just by watching you use me.”

His voice was filthy whispering those sentences in the air. Involuntarily causing you to clutch around his dick.

“Ah – just like that,’ he cooed. “Play with me, do what you want.”

He continued to pilot your lower half on him, running your drenched pussy into him. Your breath turned labored; clit throbbing with sensitivity from the build up of stimulation. Your hands ran the expanse of his chest, his biceps, around his collarbones and up. Finger’s interlacing with the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He was bringing you close to your release just as his cock started stiffening back up. Your breath caught in your throat, a brief squirm of your body reacting to his dick prodding into your sweet spot.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure taking over your face. “Right there?” Jungkook taunted. “You like my dick against that spot?” You nodded like a bobble-head. He moved you again, repeating the action.

You never noticed how your hips were moving on their own accord now, how greedy you were being as you used your roommate as a pleasure toy. A very hot, sexy, vampiric sex toy indeed.

The moans escaping you were coming out as a song, heighten with each second your lower stomach started tingling. It was happening. You were at the brink of your orgasm, railing your clit into Jungkook. “Fu – fuck. Kook!” Your eyes clamped shut and your bottom lip was bruising from your demanding teeth. “I’m so – gasps – im so close.”

You practically hiccuped the moment his fingers pinched your bundle of nerves, tweaking it between the two digits. Forcing your body to thrust forward with a maddened cry. Orgasm after orgasm erupted through you, vibrations shooting through your body the same way you squirted all around Jungkook.

Jungkook caught you before you could collapse on top of him, sitting his body up so he could hold you in his arms. He petted your hair as you rested your head in the crook of his neck trying to calm down from the aftershocks of your numbing body.

“Hey, it’s alright, I gotcha.”

The warmth of your body captivated him. Your smell of arousal and blood dampening his body and sheets are sure to stir some problems in the future if he didn’t get it cleaned up quickly.

“Thanks…” you murmured under your breath, inhaling his manly scent.

“Clean I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded, circling your arms a and latching your legs around him. Exhaustion was whipping over you and you swore you started to see stars in your peripherals. What was it about Jungkook that caused the best orgasms you’ve ever received?

He chuckled, “Noona, I’m still inside you right now. If I’m gonna clean you up, I need to be able to move. You’ve made a mess everywhere.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to get a better view of your blush fucked-out face.

“I feel a little weak.” You embarrassingly whispered.

“Of course you do – I fed on your blood. And you came about 3 times in a row.” He held you tighter, shifting himself to swing his legs to the edge of the bed. Everywhere was soaked. Leaking fluids colliding with anything it touched. It was then he decided sleeping in your clean bed will be easier for the both of you. “I’ll get you something filled with vitamins to help you replenish.” He gave a quick peck to your temple, examining the way you dozed off.

© All rights reserved under @kimtaehyunq​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

[twi-liight]

Headcanons for Riddle with an s/o (they/them) that likes doting on him? Let him have nice things!!!

Since this is my first post ever for Twisted Wonderland, I decided to make it into a short fic instead. Hope that’s okay!

❥❥ 

❥❥

“Seriously,” Ace grumbles, leaning forward to rest his chin on the top of his folded arms, “I get he’s your boyfriend and all, but you need to stop spoiling him.”

Ace has been at this for about an hour. They almost want to quip that this ‘break’ the two of them agreed upon feels more like a scolding than what it should be. So far, the jasmine tea and the assortment of treats (leftovers from Trey-senpai’s mini luncheon with the Hearts students yesterday, which Ace, Deuce and [F/N] missed because Mr.Trein caught them sleeping in class) have been untouched. Every time they try to take a small nibble of the sugared beignet, Ace opens his big fat mouth to complain about Riddle. In the back of their mind, they are aware that their next class is in about half an hour, and time flies with Ace.

They point a finger at him, as if to physically counteract his claim. This makes Ace scowl at the appendage, and the Prefect of the Ramshackle dorm merely smiles in amusement. “Spoiling him insinuates I buy him a lot of materialistic goods. Which I don’t-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Ace sits up to point his finger at them now, irritation written all over his scrunched up expression. “Clover-senpai has fawned over Riddle-senpai enough and now you’re in it too? I heard from Deuce that you bought him an expensive, limited edition tea set just out of the blue. What the hell is that?”

“It’s cute!”

“It’s annoying! Every time I look at the strawberries painted on the china, I get pissed off!”

They pout at him. Their fingers reach towards the beignet again when he’s silenced.

“... Look.”

Damn it.

Ace sighs in resignation and leans back against his chair, aptly crossing his arms. “I’m not saying you can’t buy stuff for him or whatever. I just think you should lay off on the overindulging with him... Riddle-senpai has made a lot of progress after he over-blotted, and change takes progress to really settle in...”

Well, that much is true, they think. Riddle has progressed forward. His downward spiral into madness was hard to watch. The tyrannical grip he held on his subjects was out of displacement, and what he went through was nothing to bat an eye at, so Ace is right. His life was about his choices being taken from him, now he can live the rest of it making choices for himself. That includes self-growth. But still...

“I know tough love is your thing, Acey,” they say, as they twirl their index finger around before poking him on the nose, “and you’re doing it because you care about him-”

“-Ha! As if-”

“-but I just think he deserves to have nice things, you know?”

Something gives in Ace’s red eyes. They can tell he’s trying to be stubborn about it, but like them, he knows. Riddle’s childhood wasn’t his, not really. Love was mistaken for obedience. Is it so bad that they want to give him happiness in any way that they can?

Ace relaxes, huffs, and nods once.

“I’m not gonna go that easy on him,” Ace says, after a moment. He leans his cheek in his palm and gazes out towards the garden. Calmness settles over his expression. “Geez. What I’d give to have a girlfriend or boyfriend who would buy me random things. You know, I saw these limited edition mooncakes they were selling at Riddle-senpai’s favorite bakery? I really wanted them, but they were sold out when I came back…”

[F/N] smiles, content, and nods simply as if they were listening. Their hand reaches over towards the beignet. Oh, this was going to be delicious… Trey-senpai said it has chocolate cardamom filling and it’s especially tasty if one dips it in vanilla. Where’s the vanilla? Oh, there it is--

“Dorm Leader Rosehearts?!”

Damn it.

Their hand hovers over the sauciere, faltering at Ace’s exclamation. Following his gaze, there they see Riddle striding towards the two of them. He’s in his whites and reds, out of the typical Night Raven College uniform. In his expression, he seems to be scrutinizing over the fact that they and Ace are lounging about near the garden with an assortment of untouched goods.

As he draws near, they hear Ace curse under his breath. Completely opposite of the spectrum, they giggle and smile at Riddle.

He stands before them for a moment. Riddle’s gray eyes trail over their goods, before he huffs and crosses his arms. “Law of the Queen of Hearts, no. 271: One should eat lunch and leave their seat within fifteen minutes. You two should be in class right now.”

“Give me a break,” Ace groans, leaning back. “Who the heck is in class twenty minutes early?”

Riddle fixes Ace with an icy stare. Ace shuts up.

“Besides, we were waiting for you,” they chime in with a smile. Ace passes them a look that says, We were?! They promptly ignore it as Riddle’s eyes widen in slight surprise. “I wanted to give you something.”

“Bribing me, are you?” There’s wryness in his tone as Riddle smiles, obviously pleased. He pulls out the extra chair and takes a seat. “Very well.”

Ace’s entire existence has been blocked out from Riddle. They know he tries not to play favorites too much; everyone under his rule is to be treated equally, and he cannot have biases. But he’s in love with [F/N]... And like almost every law of sciences, aren’t there always exceptions to every rule? There are three exceptions to the law of demand. He’s allowed one, isn’t he?

Riddle’s body language leans towards them, ever so curious when they pull out a small white box. It’s tied sweetly with a red ribbon, the bow perfect and cute. His brows raise and Riddle looks at them.

“What’s this?” He asks, gingerly taking the box in his hands as Ace groans in the back.

“You were saying you were craving something new, since you didn’t want your palette to be tired of strawberries,” they explain as Riddle unties the bow. “I thought, what a predicament.”

“I can sense your sarcasm, you menace,” says Riddle with a smile.

“Hey, I mean it from the bottom of my heart! I felt for you! I can’t imagine what it would be like if I ever got tired of strawberries. I might break down and weep, or something.”

“Very funny. You are the epitome of comedy.”

They giggle again, and then they nod at him, signifying he should open it. Riddle smiles warmly and pops the box open…

“Oh,” Riddle gasps. “How ornate… It’s beautiful. These are-” His gray eyes widen further, recognition filling them. Riddle stares at [F/N] for a moment, mouth slightly agape. “How on earth did you get your hands on these?”

“Oh, I dunno. I sweet talk the baker. Do you like them?”

“When I saw these mooncakes, I knew I wanted to give them a try. I hear these are gifts you give to your loved ones during a full moon, which.. There will be one tonight, [F/N], I… Thank you. This is lovely. Shall we share them later tonight? I hear they are good with tea.”

They smile adoringly at him, sighing in content at the fond expression in his eyes. They lean their cheek on their palm and think, I could watch my boyfriend look like this forever…

Their eyes flit to Ace’s exasperated expression.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Ace shouts, breaking their sweet moment.

Riddle turns and narrows his eyes at him. “What have I told you about your sudden exclamations? Be quiet. Don’t you dare sully this present my precious [F/N] has given me.”

“Yeah, Ace,” they frown. “Riddle’s ears are sensitive.”

“I-- WHAT-- YOU’RE BOTH UNBELIEVABLE! YOU WERE THE ONE WHO TOOK THE LAST MOONCAKES? AT LEAST SHARE!”

[nightcoremoon]

advertising is bullshit. not just for the carbon emissions, not just because they don't work, not just because they gather information on individual users, not just because unbridled capitalism is fundamentally broken without consistent regulations and control, not just because businesses are putting ad revenue ahead of human life.

here's the thing

you ever heard of acorn?

no not the video streaming service

there's an app called acorn that enables short form investment capital. you put in pennies to businesses to financially support them and if/when those businesses are successful then the amount of money you invested gets to be a lil bit more. so it's basically the stock market. you cannot eat the rich if you don't know what they eat. anyway it's a way to make supplementary income that's as far as I know untouchable by the IRS. but that doesn't matter. the thing is that this thing exists.

I can guarantee that 9 out of 10 people reading this has no idea that this app existed. and it's probably because you don't ever see ads for it. they don't really advertise. it seems to be some sort of communal hub for mass mutual financial growth among corporations and investors since that's how stimulating economics works. you don't hear about it on tv, radio, internet, video games, magazines, whatever. so clearly they have a tiny if not nonexistent budget for ads.

gambling ads are fucking everywhere. you got casinos, you got fantasy football leagues, you got horse racing, you got private pools for F1 and nascar, you got lottery scratch off tickets, you got fortnite overwatch battlefieldfront etc lootboxes, you got so much shit shoveled out every orifice of society, media, social media, radio tv websites and magazines. everywhere. they have a huge budget for ads because they are traps designed to steal money from gullible idiots privileged enough to have extra cash. and they take maybe 10% of that and sell out adspace to attract more gullible idiots. it's a predatory business model and it WORKS and it works because people are stupid and they're still clicking on ads and buying lootboxes and scratching scratchoffs and betting on football.

gambling doesn't serve society. it's a for profit model that the privileged elite use to suck up extra cash from sad pathetic losers who chase that high from a squirt of serotonin from hitting three lemons or a solid gold ak47 skin or a jpeg. so they can afford to throw cash away on ads.

but sheena, I hear you ask, what about all of the businesses that DO provide valid services to society?

spotify makes enough money from ad revenue to shill out Premium™ to people who happily vomit up $5/monthly en masse. even though there's plenty of ways to listen to music that a) directly benefit the creator or b) are 100% free.

places that serve food make so much extra money from sales that they can afford to fuck over they're employees by paying them dirt and shill out for ad spaces even though nobody's gonna watch a commercial for red lobster on tv and think OOOHHH I WANT JUMBO SHRIMP and you know why? because people who are rich enough to eat ad red lobster on a whim all have enough income they probably have dvr or Premium™ streaming and don't see ads in the first place. they're gonna spur of the moment think mmm cheddar bay biscuits (because when the fuck has red lobster shilled their delicious biscuits??? NEVER, THEY SHILL THEIR SCAMPI LINGUINI AND L O B S T E R.

(red lobster did not finance this post and you can easily find imitation recipes anywhere on google but damn what tasty cheesy bread).

United States Military spends $100 MILLION dollars on shilling ads to join the army on poor people's tv to boost enlistment for their blood machine instead of the government taking that money and using it to finance our schools. we can literally cut our military budget from $780 BILLION dollars to $779 billion- that's B as in billion- remove all military ads from our TVs and buy new textbooks for every single school in the entire country. I don't know why learning institutions hide knowledge behind class gates and why historical mathematical scientific and artistic groups don't just fucking give copies of one textbook about the subject to everyone, or why the publishing companies want so much goddamn MONEY from FUCKING SCHOOLS for LITERAL CHILDREN to LEARN but whatever I'm just someone who succeeded in high school in spite of its hundreds of open glaring flaws but whatever. anyway the point is the military could give money to groups that want to end wars but no they want poor people with nowhere else to go to oil the gears with their entrails so we can continue bombing the shit out of the middle east to steal their petroleum. and ads is how they do it.

charities who claim to want to help kids with cancer or endangered animals will gladly take vast portions of the money well meaning idiots send in, pocket 1/4 of it, put another 1/4 in the tv commercials, give 1/4 to some female adult contemporary singer who isn't famous anymore to sing a sad song over the sadness porn and then give the remaining 1/4 to people who are constantly failing to cure cancer, save animals, and just give up and join the nonprofit orgs that actually accomplish things instead. if a charity can afford to spend millions of dollars on fuckin ADVERTISING, they're a bunch of bloated and corrupt bastards who shouldn't be trusted with a goddamn penny. their members should be promoting shit FOR FREE if they actually care. not buying ad space on the cw tnt cbs & nbc. unless the businesses DONATE ad space. but they don't do that because all CEOs are evil. lol

what does wikipedia do when it needs cash? it POLITELY ASKS FOR MONEY IN A BANNER IN THE CORNER OF THE WEBSITE. ao3 does it too. and if dumb motherfuckers wanna shit on wikipedia for being the most accurate and communally moderated source of information on the entire internet "inaccurate"[citation needed] or ao3 for being the last bastion of independent fiction against federal censorship whores and virtue signaling white-knight moral guardians who don't actually care about victims of rape and csa "having incest fics", and yet say absolutely nothing to greedy conglomerates who destroy the planet, commit genocide and enslave coastal & island nation child residents, spread eugenics & other evil pseudoscientific propaganda, sexualize infantilize and fetishize women, and let millions die from cancer every day? then they're just as culpable.

fuck advertisements.

unless you're an independent content creator or something in which case that's not ads it's marketing and publicity which is different.

[maruzzewrites]

Every breath you take. - 1

You can find this fic on AO3 too.

The isolated, intimidating house where you were sent to just this morning was just outside the city. Not away enough to be a bother to reach with your car, but far away enough that the closest neighbor wouldn’t be disturbed if you screamed inside the rooms. The thought wasn’t really comforting in your circumstances and with the knowledge of your employers’ jobs, but you were assured the owners of this house weren’t inside in that moment.

You were grateful for that considering you were hired by the mafia itself. Your friend allowed you to be contacted by them, in a way or another, and you accepted the job because it paid well enough and you had to do it sparsely. Precisely, you had to clean, occasionally, the house of one of the gangs. The one right in front of you. You weren’t told what this specific group was assigned to, but you were supposed to go only at times when they residents were all out for missions and that would be every week or every few weeks. Luckily for you, you had other little jobs you could use to occupy your days with until your fiance was out of university and taking a serious, stable job that would allow you to settle down and either stay at home or find something less dangerous.

You didn’t really care for the reason this job was so sparse. You presumed the men living in this house were particularly dangerous or unstable, but you learnt a long time ago that you would be better off keeping your mouth shut when it came to organized crime. You would clean, take the money and forget even wanting to see the faces of these people.

Entering the place with the spare keys provided to you, you were hit almost instantly by the distinct smell of stuffy, closed rooms. Looking around, the house looked composed enough, but in a superficial way. The kind of clean that you’d expect when someone is too lazy to actually clean and just sweeps the dust under the carpet or straightens the blankets over the bed. You were familiar with this kind of modus operandi; Neapolitan men weren’t known to be the best househusbands and you can only imagine the amount of general machismo that gangsters would possess: you met countless men being unable to operate the most basic of washing machines or understand the order of business to clean a floor.

You sighed, but at least the residence didn’t look disgustingly filthy, just a bit neglected. You set down your stuff and got to work, hoping the tenants wouldn’t come around while you were working. You opened the windows wide, letting clean and fresh air in the rooms. In a matter of hours, the floors were clean and washed, the kitchen and the bathroom were ready to face the horrors of the number of men around the house and all it remained was the upper floor. There you were faced with the bedrooms, another bathroom and a single office. The latter seemed clean enough, you just dusted it a bit and closed the door behind you. The bathroom was less presentable than the one downstairs, but you rolled up your sleeves and finished before you could even blink.

All you had to do was polishing the bedrooms and then get out. You soon discovered that the three rooms were big enough to accommodate three beds each (a pair of which appeared to be pushed together) and separated into three different parts by various means – room dividers, drapes or fake walls. Each part was decorated in a different way, allowing to give a feeling or personality of the occupant. You were marveled that the residents were civil enough not to murder each other just for sharing such close quarters, but the thought soon left your mind when you checked the time. You were instructed to finish before six p.m., but the tip was to end as soon as possible just to be safe. It was only four p.m., but you wanted to do an excellent job just so whoever lived here wouldn’t complain and you were allowed to keep working.

As you were making the beds and vacuuming the floors, you allowed yourself to get to indirectly know the single living spaces. You felt like you could learn quite a bit from the way their personal belongings were put away and with how much care they would hide various possessions – some of which you would rather have not seen. But soon enough you were done (the bedrooms were way cleaner than the rest of the house) and you just headed down the stairs to check one last time if you did a good job. You retraced your steps and adjusted some neglected corners. Just to cover all your bases, you looked in places you overlooked before to be sure and just so happened to check the fridge if anything was expired or moldy.

You were faced with a mostly empty container, save for some bottles of water and booze. Your frowned and sighed at how coddled these men must have been by their mothers when they were children, to the point of forgetting to stock their fridge. You made a quick mental note of that, just to be sure, then checked the clock. You panicked for a second and just gathered your things, closed the door of the house behind you and jumped in your car. With a last glance at the building, you started the engine and drove off to your own home, forgetting about that one job until you were called again.

You came back exactly a week after. To your surprise, the house was mostly left untouched from last time if you didn’t could the bathrooms and the living room. The residents must have noticed the work you put in and decided not to mess it up too much in case it was a one-time thing. You just shrugged it off and brought the bag you had with you in the kitchen, opening the fridge again. It was still mostly bare, but there was a box of obvious take away resting on one of the top shelves along with the water. You picked it up, smelled it and decided it was better to spare these people of food poisoning as you threw it out. You stocked the fridge with the food you decided to buy for them, taking pity of their helpless negligence, and then continued with the job you were assigned.

This time around you finished much earlier, surprised that it was only three in the afternoon. Debating if you needed to go a bit deeper with the cleaning, you glanced at the kitchen. A quick thought settled in your mind: if they were so loose with buying fresh ingredients, maybe they weren’t that good at cooking to begin with. You let that concept stew in your mind, worried about wasting precious food in the eventuality they wouldn’t even check the contents of the fridge. You looked around once more and decided to cook what you brought there, making something quick, easy and tasty. You left it on the table and swiftly cleaned up what you used to prepare the dishes. You made a quick note and left it near one of the plates, warning them that there was still some food in the fridge you couldn’t use and that they should decide what to do with it.

Too nervous to stay in that house after that, you bolted out the house and hurriedly checked if you closed the door. The drive towards the city was less serene that day, with the nagging feeling that your gesture would come back to bite you when you least except it. You tried hard to forget about what you did until the evening you were called to go back, one week after, and you had to keep yourself from refusing. You knew better than to say no to the mafia and you were sure they residents of that house didn’t mind your action too much if they didn’t say anything to your employer.

With a great deal of chamomile, the shooting presence of your fiance to keep your company during the night and a cold shower in the morning, you drove towards the house and just did your job. You did check the kitchen, but the food you left seemed to be less and you assumed they treasured your words considering the pile of dishes in the sink. You sighed with relief and just went on with your day, cleaning and forgetting about this little job once you were out of the door.

The following weeks went by with no problem and you stocked the fridge once or twice without too much thought, cooking even with you had enough time and being bold enough to check the bedrooms a bit more thoroughly. You didn’t know these men faces or names, but it was a fun little game trying to guess how they were and how well you’d get along with them based on the little details you could get from what they left behind. You didn’t dare to put your hands too deep into their belongings, just making the rooms presentable, but your eyes would catch some snippets of the people behind the objects thanks to books, clothes or notes they’d leave behind.

One week was particularly interesting: you were called three times, every other day, as it seemed these men had much to do in so little time. You soon found yourself with very little to do considering they would apparently come home late and have no time to mess up the place. To occupy the time, you decided to think ahead and prepare more than one meal for these overworked people. The third day you even lost track of time in your intentions to make something more elaborate and wait with a book in your hands. You were brought back to the real world just when your heard soft steps and the voice of a man, bewilderingly calling out to you.

You jumped out of your seat, letting the book in your hands fall to the ground, and just stared at the person there with you. He was blonde, dressed in an elegant suit that was not soiled with what looked like blood, mud and concrete. You noticed he was distinctly handsome, but the fear that gripped you was too great to do anything with the information. You stayed silent and just looked at him, his serious face fixated on you and pinning you where you were standing.

“And you are?” He asked sternly, something cold in voice that made you shiver out of sheer fear. You didn’t know who he was, but you could only assume he was one of the men living in this house. You knew that you weren’t supposed to meet these people, not face-to-face, but the fact you were in front of one of them made you worry. There was a reason if you weren’t supposed to talk to them, you were sure, but now that you were in this situation you had to think about something before you would be shot on the spot.

“I’m the cleaner.” Your answer was simple enough, delivered with a strangely even voice if the uneasiness you were feeling was anything to go by. His eyebrows just shot up and he seemed to notice the pot on the stove behind you. Your words seemed to let him consider the option presented to him and he just nodded at you, looking you up and down. You weren’t exactly a sight in that moment: you didn’t feel like dressing up for this job and so you opted to wear simple sweatpants and shirts, comfortable shoes to walk with and your hair were kept out of the way. Your bare face was probably visibly tired, with dark circles and uneven coloration. You surely weren’t the type of person mobsters would surround themselves with and you were never more grateful of being an average individual.

“Thank you for the consideration,” he raised his hand to point at your general direction and you presumed he was referring to you cooking them dinner these past few weeks. You just quickly nodded and smiled a bit forcefully, hoping he would just leave you alone to finish what you were doing and for him to clean up his outfit. The sight of dark red was really unnerving knowing who he was involved with. “We really appreciated it.”

You smiled again, this time a bit more genuine, and just let him know it was no big deal. You bent down to pick up your book and went to turn off the stove, all the while feeling the eyes of the men bore into the back of your head with insistence. When you faced the door of the kitchen, he was still there with his eyes on you and his hands in the pockets of his pants. You had no idea what to do about the obstinacy of his stare, but you really felt like you had to go now. This guy didn’t sound or feel too bad, but you couldn’t shake off the sensation that you really should keep your distance from these people.

“Do you smoke?” Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice how the man fished a pack of cigarettes from the inner pockets of his jacket and let one of them rest against his parted lips, unlit. He was offering you the pack with his extended arm, but you simply declined. You really didn’t need an excuse to stay and you just informed that you should get going anyway, that you were done with your job and that you could give him some pointers about the food you were preparing since he was here before his colleagues. He just frowned at your words.

He motioned for you to follow him and you did as you were said. You really didn’t need to anger someone belonging to the mafia, especially someone so ostensibly serious. He walked around the rooms, checking every inch and corner, with you at his heels. You just didn’t understand, it didn’t seem like he had a specific complaint to offer you, but he was still escorting you around looking over your work as if he wanted to find a mistake, a fault somewhere. You were silent the whole time, but you really wished you could muster the courage to ask him if you could go now.

In your little tour around the house, you ended up in the direction of the bedrooms. He stopped in front of the middle door, opening it and looking inside. He then made you come in and closed the door behind the two of you. You didn’t like that, but stayed still just a few steps away from the door and felt him walk past you towards one of the beds, the one on the far right and right under one of the windows. You suspected from the moment you saw him that that part of the room belonged to him by the somber and precise elegance surrounding the few pieces of furniture they were authorized to keep.

He seemed to contemplate something for a second, then sat down on the edge of the bed and looked you over again. His cigarette was still unlit and hanging from his lips, but he quickly grabbed a lighter from his pocket. He opened the window just slightly, leaning on the windowsill while looking at you and lighting up the end of the cigarette. He inhaled slightly and then let out the smoke outside before speaking again after minutes of silence.

“You never clean up our clothes,” he said simply, and the statement confused you. Despite their seemingly inability to keep up with most chores, they never seemed to have a problem with laundry as you never saw dirty clothes in the bathrooms or the bedrooms. You would see some shirts and pants thrown around on beds, chairs or desks, but they seemed clean and just the doing of a disorganized individual who loved his own mess. You really wouldn’t dare putting your nose in other people’s wardrobes without their express permission. “I need a little help with my socks, if you don’t mind.”

You stared at him, but nodded in the end. You asked where you could find these items and he just pointed at the nightstand near his bed. You thanked him and approached the bed, sitting with your back turned to him and as near to the nightstand as you could without bumping your knees into it. You opened the drawers and were faced with the absolute mess that was inside. Socks crumpled and tossed around without care; you were already feeling the headache it would be to clean up all of this. You pulled on the drawer until it was out of the nightstand and rested in on the bed, just as you took some of the socks in there and looked for the matching ones.

Luckily for you, there were all black with the occasional blue ones. He seemed to be wearing garters too as you found some buried under the mountain of legwear in that drawer. While you were busy with place the socks back in the box, you felt the bed dip at your side. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man shifted position and threw his legs on the other side of the bed. As you were seated near the pillow, he was now at the edge on the same side as you. The cigarette was still in his hand, the smoke getting out of its extremity and his nostrils, as it rapidly burned. You continued your job at a quicker pace, his eyes locked on your face as you worked.

Soon enough you were done with your task and you picked up the drawer, lining it up with hole left in the nightstand. You pushed, but the gears that helped the box move didn’t click and you were left with half the drawer hanging crooked. Cursing under your breath, you pulled it out again and tried one more time, panic setting in your head as the anxiety made this mundane activity more difficult than needed. You, however, weren’t so far gone that you didn’t feel the mattress under you move again and the soft steps of elegant shoes approach.

“Let me help you.” He didn’t wait for you to accept or thank him, he dipped down onto his knees and took the drawer into his own hand, without letting you go of it by grabbing with both. You were forced to hold the box with him as he tried to set up the gears in place. You were so focused on keeping your side up that you noticed too late the slide of his hand towards yours, the one closest to him. This let him stay in an awkward position, but he didn’t seem to care. You just moved your hand away and saw a suggestion of frown on his face.

When the drawer was in its place, you quickly got up and didn’t even let him open his mouth to ask something else from you. You just thanked him and walked out of the room, down the stairs and into the hallway towards your bag. You looked back just to see him calmly coming down the stairs.

You forced a smile, saying your goodbyes without thinking twice before bolting out of the door. You set your bag on the passenger seat and jumped in without hesitance. You started the engine, but gave a last look at the entrance door. He was standing there, staring in your general direction, but you couldn’t make out what he was looking at in particular. He then mouthed something, just before raising his hand to wave at you with a lazy smile and stepping back inside.

You stayed still for a moment, with a feeling of doom over your head. You shook your head, looked right ahead of you and pressed on the clutch. You drove away with the worry still in your stomach, a sensation that didn’t leave you until you were in your own bed and drifting to sleep that night.

[musicaltheatrewannabe]

christmas cookies - a seblos oneshot <3

because it’s almost christmas and i love seblos, here’s a fic of seb helping disaster carlos make cookies and then them establishing their relationship!

Carlos gave a quick wave to the librarian as he walked past her desk towards the tables at the back of the room. He made a beeline for the empty corner seat and sat down, swinging his bag onto the table. Feigning academic productivity, he took out his history notebook but then immediately got out his phone. He wanted to bake something for the cast party that Sunday after their last performance, and he needed to find the easiest possible Christmas-themed recipe if he was going to have any chance at avoiding disaster. It would not have been an exaggeration to say that Carlos was terrible at baking; somehow, despite following the recipe, something always went wrong. He started scrolling through holiday Tasty videos until he landed on a sugar cookie recipe that didn’t look too difficult.

Carlos narrowed his eyes, studying the video with the same level of intensity he usually reserved for dance, so he didn’t notice the figure approaching him from behind. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped in his seat, ripping his headphones out of his ears and dropping his phone onto the table. He was irritated that he had been interrupted but the feeling vanished when he turned to see Seb leaning over his chair, goofy grin and all. “Oh my God, Seb, don’t scare me like that!” Carlos laughed, unable to stop a smile from forming on his face.

Seb chuckled sheepishly, “Sorry! I just wanted to come say hi, cause Mr. Mazzara let us out of physics early and I knew you had study hall so… hi?”

“Hi,” Carlos replied, smiling at the fact that Seb knew his schedule.

After a brief pause, Seb looked around and muttered, “well, sorry for disturbing you I guess…” He trailed off and started to walk away before Carlos grabbed his hand and blushed.

“Wait! No, you weren’t disturbing me, I mean, I wasn’t getting much homework done anyways- sit down!” Carlos rambled, “only if you want, of course…” Seb laughed and pulled out the chair next to Carlos, dropping his bag on the ground and plopping himself down.

Seb glanced knowingly back and forth between Carlos and his untouched history notebook. “So, what’s up, if you’re not doing work?” he asked, nudging Carlos with his shoulder.

Carlos bit his lip, hesitating. “Well, I wanted it to be a surprise,” he confessed, “but I’m gonna try to make Christmas cookies for the cast party- the key word here being try, because I have never successfully baked anything in my life.” Carlos laughed, “I was looking for an easy recipe to follow.” He picked up his phone again and showed Seb the video.

“Do you want some help? I’m sure you’ll be fine, I mean, but if you want…? It’s pretty much an expectation in my family for someone to be making baked goods at any given moment,” Seb chuckled.

Carlos felt his heart flutter at the thought of making cookies with Seb. “Yes, definitely! I seriously need you…” he blushed and inwardly cringed at how that sounded. “I would greatly appreciate your baking expertise, I mean,” Carlos corrected with a giggle.

“Well, I don’t know about expertise…” Seb trailed off. “But ok great, I’ll be there. When are you gonna make them?”

“I was thinking Saturday morning, if that works for you? At like 11:00?” Carlos suggested.

“Yep, sounds good!” Seb grinned. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

Carlos thought for a moment. “Actually yeah, I have a few cookie sheets but not any cookie cutters-“

“Say no more,” Seb cut him off. “I’ve got three different sets of Christmas cookie cutters and I will bring them all,” he deadpanned.

“Amazing, thank you,” Carlos laughed, and opened his history notebook, sighing. “I guess I should probably at least try to get some of my homework done for the last twenty minutes that we’re here.”

Seb got out and opened his math textbook. “Look at me, being a good influence on you!” he joked, earning a soft smile from Carlos, who groaned at the prospect of schoolwork.

.

At 10:45 on Saturday morning, Carlos was waiting in his kitchen, pacing back and forth. He had gotten out all of the ingredients and measuring equipment and had arranged them into a display of sorts in anticipation. He was excited to see Seb of course, but he was nervous about it too. They hadn’t properly talked about what they were yet, even though they had both clearly indicated that they liked each other. They had been in this limbo for almost a month, and now that they were nearing winter break and wouldn’t have a reason to see each other for a few weeks, Carlos knew he should bring it up. But he would have to get through the baking first. Luckily Carlos’ mom had gone to a friend’s house for coffee, so he didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of introducing Seb as a… friend?

A few minutes before 11:00, because of course he was punctual, Seb rang the doorbell. In fact, he had already been there hesitating on Carlos’ front porch for five minutes, debating whether or not he was too early. Carlos took a deep breath, opened the door and, unable to conceal his excitement, said “hey!” Seb stood there in a red flannel shirt with his glasses on, and Carlos thought he might combust just from looking at him for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Hello!” Seb nodded to and held up two bags of baking supplies, “I come bearing gifts!”

Carlos stepped back to let Seb in and walked him to the kitchen. “Thanks so much for helping, I really appreciate it!”

“It’s no problem, I love to bake! Maybe I should be playing Zeke…” he laughed. “Besides, I also love spending time with you.”

“I do appreciate your well-roundedness, but you’re incredible as Sharpay,” Carlos asserted, hoping his blush wasn’t too obvious. “And same here, I love spending time with you- believe it or not, I’m not just using you for your talents.”

Seb gave Carlos a small smile and put his bags down on the kitchen counter. “Well, I brought the cookie cutters, as requested, and I thought I’d throw these in in case things got messy…” he chuckled, pulling out two aprons. He started putting on the one that said ’Tis the Season’ and tossed the ‘Merry Christmas’ one to Carlos.

“Ok, these are adorable,” Carlos said, looping the apron over his neck.

“Here, I got it,” Seb grabbed Carlos’ apron strings and tied them together in a loose bow at his back. Carlos’ breath was stopped short by the sensation for the fleeting moment before Seb spun him back around and said, “there we go!”

Carlos struck a pose and laughed, turning the oven on. “Let’s get started,” he said with a clap and Seb rubbed his hands together.

They mixed the butter, sugar and eggs with no problems, Seb instructing Carlos, who pretended to know what he was doing. Seb reached for the bag of flour and tried - unsuccessfully - to rip it open. “Here, I’ve got it,” Carlos held out his hand expectantly.

Seb raised his eyebrows with a smile, “if you say so.” He passed Carlos the flour and watched in amusement as the other boy struggled as well.

Finally Carlos managed to rip the bag open, but with a bit too much force, spilling flour out onto the counter and up into his own face. Seb pursed his lips but couldn’t contain his laughter as Carlos rolled his eyes. “Of course this happens,” he started to gather up some of the thin layer of flour that had fallen on the counter. Once he had gathered enough into his hands, he turned to Seb and blew it onto his face, earning a gasp from the blonde boy who had thought he was just cleaning.

“Hey! That’s unfair,” Seb patted his hand into the flour covering the counter and reached out toward Carlos’ hair. Carlos realized what Seb was doing and let out a shriek, running around the kitchen table with the other boy chasing him. He quickly found himself cornered behind the table and reluctantly let Seb’s floury hand ruffle his hair. “Gotcha!” Seb exclaimed, and his goofy grin was enough to make Carlos feel bold.

“I forgive you for messing up my hair, but only because you’re so cute,” Carlos admitted, making Seb blush, even through the flour.

Seb looked like he wanted to say something, but instead took both of Carlos’ hands and walked backwards toward the counter, pulling the other boy with him. “Let’s finish making this dough so we can get the first batch in the oven,” he said, dumping some flour into the bowl.

“You didn’t even measure that out!” Carlos laughed, leaning on the counter.

“As Miss Jenn always says, trust the process,” Seb smirked and started mixing the dough, getting it quickly to the perfect consistency.

Once they had rolled out the dough and cut out a bunch of Christmas trees, Santa hats and snowmen, they put the first batch in the oven and set the timer for ten minutes. Carlos pulled out a stool from the table to sit down and Seb followed suit. Registering the silence, Carlos knew that this was when he should say something, but he couldn’t think of how to bring it up. He was about to speak when Seb said, “so I wanted to talk about something.”

“Um, yeah, me too,” Carlos nodded, his eyes darting up to meet the blonde boy’s. “But go ahead,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“Ok, well, you know how we went to homecoming together and have been hanging out a lot in rehearsals?” Seb’s smile had disappeared and his face showed how anxious he was. Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat but could still only manage a nod. Seb took an audible breath, “I guess I was just wondering if we were only spending time together because of the musical or if, maybe, you wanted this to be something… else?” Seb broke eye contact for the first time and glanced down at his fidgeting hands.

Carlos exhaled and said, “yes,” but when Seb met his eyes he had a look of confusion on his face. “Oh wait, I’m so dumb, you asked an ‘or’ question,” Carlos laughed nervously. “The second one - I meant that I do want this to be something else - something more - but only if that’s what you want of course.”

Seb’s eyes lit up again. “You do?” he asked, in genuine disbelief that Carlos cared about him beyond the drama department. Carlos nodded earnestly, waiting for Seb’s response. “Because, yes, I do! I mean, I want us to be more than friends,” Seb added, his face beet red.

Carlos grinned uncontrollably and his heart was pounding wildly in his chest. “Ok, so, do you want me to be your... boyfriend?” he ventured, tentatively reaching out his hand toward Seb’s.

Seb just nodded and squeezed Carlos’ hand, surging forward to close the distance between them. When their lips met Carlos felt like time had frozen in the space between two of his heartbeats, the sensation was so surreal. After taking a moment to respond, his eyes squeezed shut and his free hand instinctively reached up to cup Seb’s cheek as he kissed back. Carlos could feel Seb smiling into the kiss, which made him smile too until they both just started giggling.

“Boyfriends,” Seb stated, testing out the word and grinning, “it sounds good, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed, still in shock at what had just happened. He rested his chin on his hand, looked at Seb and said, “you seriously are so cute, I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Stoop,” Seb giggled and blushed even more when suddenly the timer rang, jarring the boys out of their giddy daze.

Carlos jumped up from his stool and walked over to the oven to get the cookies - which looked perfect - out and put in the next batch. Seb got up too and started punching out more cookies. Carlos set down the hot cookie sheet and turned to help, rolling his eyes but unable to keep from smiling when he saw what Seb had done. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

Using the butter knife on the counter, Seb had carved out three new cookie shapes: an S, a C and a heart. He placed them proudly on the cookie sheet and smiled at Carlos, saying, “ta da!”

Carlos planted his hands on the counter on either side of Seb and pushed his body against the other boy’s. They lingered for a few moments with their faces inches apart, both of their eyes flickering back and forth between the other’s lips and eyes, before Carlos kissed him. Seb’s arms wrapped around Carlos’ neck, one hand running through his still floury hair. Carlos pulled away and placed a soft kiss on Seb’s nose, inciting a giggle in response. “I’m really glad you offered to help me bake…” Carlos said quietly, grabbing Seb’s hand.

“I’m really glad Mr. Mazzara let us out of physics early,” Seb adjusted Carlos’ crooked glasses and grinned before they finished up with the cookies. Carlos had gained some questionable baking skills, flour in his hair and a boyfriend - it had been a successful morning indeed.

[thebeautifulspinster]

so. i wrote some porn. mostly inspired by the fact that quentin being fingered is never too far from my mind and also by @chaoticbisexualalien (hope that’s not weird).

it is not proofread. it is not revised. i am a dumb bitch with terrible taste. i will never change. that is a promise.

anyway- fic below the cut.

“How about that time we robbed a fucking bank?” Eliot asked, pouring Quentin another glass of his homemade plum wine. After much trial and error, this one was actually drinkable, if not particularly tasty.

It was post-dinner. They were sitting next to each at a makeshift table in their small cottage, lit by dim candlelight, reminiscing about their past exploits. This was something they did often in the first couple of years at the Mosaic, before the memories became too painful and distant to mention.

Of course, Quentin remembered the bank heist. How could he forget?

“Um, not necessarily one of my… favorite memories, actually.”

“Really? Again, we robbed a fucking bank.”

“I—um—well, I—” Quentin stammered, a slight blush creeping its way up his neck.

Eliot smiled, lifting his brow in amusement. “What is it, Q?”

Quentin groaned, scrubbed his hands over his face, and then mumbled something too low for Eliot to hear. Now he was definitely red.

“Come again? We have a lot of time here together. You know I’ll get it out of you, one way or another.” Gently, he pulled Quentin’s hands away from his face, keeping them in his. “Hey, look at me.”

Quentin sighed, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Remember how I had to steal that finger to get past security?”

Recognition began to creep across Eliot’s face, and then, he was laughing. Uncontrollably.

Quentin jerked his hands away, frowning with an eye roll.

“I’m sorry, Q,” he wheezed, tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe I somehow forgot that. That’s too good.”

“Penny made fun of me for months! Also, it—it was during the time that I was still sharing my body with Alice’s niffin.” He gulped. “She kept… giving me directions and pointers.”

“Oh, I know for a fact that you like being given directions,” Eliot said. He grinned mischievously and reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Quentin’s ear.

Quentin shivered. His blush was back (did it ever leave?), but he couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Then, the smile was gone, and he was staring into Eliot’s eyes. “That’s not the real reason I hate that memory.”

Eliot gestured for him to continue without breaking eye contact.

“You died, El.”

That was clearly not what Eliot was expecting to hear. He shook his head. “That wasn’t me. It was a golem. Clay.”

“But it was you! You were in control of it. It had your face and eyes. And it died protecting me.”

“Oh, Q.” Eliot grabbed his hands, tugging slightly. “Come here.”

He stood up, walked the few steps between them, and then Eliot was holding him, crushing the still-standing Quentin against himself.

“My sweet Q.” He pulled back, head tilted, looking up. Quentin’s eyes were closed. Eliot reached for his face with his long arm and ran his fingers across his jaw. Quentin leaned into the touch. “I’m sorry for even bringing it up.”

After a moment, he added nonchalantly, “You know, we could make some new memories.”

Quentin’s eyes snapped open, and he looked down. “Uh… what did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he said, lascivious look on his face, “I was thinking we could start by giving you the proper and thorough fingering you deserve and go from there.”

“Eliot,” Quentin whispered, softly.

“Go. Sit on the bed.” He gave him a playful shove, shaking Quentin out of his thoughts.

Quentin obeyed, perching tentatively on the edge of their bed.

“Take off your clothes.”

Eliot’s eyes were on him as he scrambled to follow orders. He struggled with his shirt, which Eliot found endlessly endearing, but the rest of his clothes came off swiftly. He glanced sheepishly at Eliot, awaiting what was next.

“On your hands and knees.”

Slowly, Quentin did as he was told, pulling himself up, facing the headboard. His breathing was already affected, his chest heaving. Sparks of anticipation danced up and down his spine, as his cock twitched. He was completely exposed and vulnerable, and he loved it. He loved this. He loved how Eliot knew exactly what he needed and gave it to him, freely.

“Such a good boy.” Quentin actually whimpered at that, and Eliot laughed. He stood, then, and walked over to the bed. He ran a hand down Quentin’s back, and he bowed to the touch. “Such a good boy.”

Eliot, still fully clothed, moved to sit where he could face Quentin. He ran a gentle hand through the strands of hair framing his face. Then, suddenly, he roughly yanked Quentin’s hair free from its ponytail, earning a sharp gasp. “I’ve changed my mind. Get on your back. I wanna see you.”

Quentin wasted no time, flipping himself over eagerly. Eliot grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his hips. Without being told, he slowly opened up for Eliot, spreading his legs and holding them in place. Eliot settled there, looking up at Quentin with wide, worshipful eyes.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Q, you know that?”

He started to protest, but Eliot cut him off with a searing kiss, devouring his negativity. He ran his hands over Quentin’s stomach, his sides, his chest, finally settling on tangling them in his hair. Quentin was just trying to hang onto something, grasping at Eliot’s back, clutching his shirt. They broke apart for air, panting into each other’s mouths.

Eliot sat back, retaking his spot between Quentin’s legs. Softly, he said, “Sometimes I wish we could switch places. So you could see what I see when I look at you.”

Quentin turned his head away into the feather mattress, overwhelmed by the praise, still panting. “El...”

“I’m going to take care of you now, okay?”

Eliot traced an invisible sigil onto Quentin’s stomach and ducked his head down to briefly kiss that spot, activating the spell. Quentin felt a rush of heat as he was filled with lubrication. “Ah… aaaahhhh, Eliot.”

“I know, I know,” he responded, running a finger up and down the cleft of his ass, applying a bit of pressure where Quentin needed it. Eliot ghosted his other hand over Quentin’s cock, hard and leaking against his stomach. “Do you want me to touch you here?”

Quentin fervently shook his head in the affirmative.

“Hmmm,” he pretended to consider. He moved his hand away. “I don’t think I will. I think you could come just like--” he pushed a finger into Quentin, “--this.”

Quentin nearly jumped off the bed. “Fuck. Eliot.”

Eliot began working his finger back and forth, pulling a litany of beautiful little noises from Quentin. He added another finger, and began curling his long, elegant fingers, searching for—

“FUCK. ELIOT.”

Eliot smiled, placed a brief kiss to Quentin’s thigh, and began redoubling his efforts. Soon, he added even another finger. Quentin’s hands, for a lack of anything to grab onto, grasped desperately at the sheets. The sting, the pressure, the heat, the overwhelming sensation spreading out from his core to his limbs. Eliot was relentless, hitting his sweet spot over and over and over, making Quentin cry out.

“That’s it. Just like that. Fuck, Q. Gorgeous.”

Quentin responded unintelligibly, his eye rolling back into his head. Then, with a wicked look, Eliot ducked his head down, adding his tongue where his fingers were, lapping at his stretched hole, still working his fingers methodically.

It was too much for Quentin. He tensed, back arching off the bed, screaming as he came, dick untouched, onto his stomach. He was flooded with an intense, unnamable emotion. Finally, he collapsed, able to catch his breath. He looked toward Eliot as he pulled out of him, smug and almost reverent.

“You did so well for me. Always do so well for me.” Eliot leaned forward and placed a kiss to Quentin’s damp forehead. Quentin was too out of it to respond beyond a tiny moan. Then Eliot kissed him properly.

As he pulled away, Eliot said, “I’m going to give you a minute to come back online. After that, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name,” punctuating himself with a chaste kiss to the corner of Quentin’s mouth.

He shook in Eliot’s arms, and really looked at him. It seemed impossible that he could affect Eliot this way, and yet, the proof was in front of him, from the way Eliot looked at him like he wanted to swallow him whole to the way his hard cock was clearly visible through the linen of his new Fillorian pants. He would take anything Eliot was willing to give him. These were the moments he wanted to commit to memory. What he never wanted to forget.

“Okay,” Quentin said, smiling, and he reached up to pull Eliot down for another kiss.

[banshee-cheekbones]

loving you (is a piece of cake).

In which Andrew and Steven bake a cake for Adam's birthday and make out.

No, really. That’s the fic.

featuring a good dose of domestic fluff and love bites. 

~2.4k, rated T. read the whole thing under the cut or on ao3 here.

Ever since he started working on Tasty videos in earnest, Andrew has had to deal with some absolute kitchen disasters. He’s spent literal hours scrubbing solidified globs of melted cheese off the counters and sweeping flour out of every nook and cranny in the kitchen, has gone home to find bits of egg stuck in his hair and cinnamon down his shirt.

But despite all of those experiences, he’s pretty sure that the absolute mess blanketing almost every square inch of Steven’s kitchen takes the cake.

(Literally.)

Truth be told, he’s not exactly sure how it even happened, because it’s not like they’re making anything super fancy; it’s nothing more extravagant than a chocolate mocha cake for Adam’s birthday. Sure, they started from scratch, rather than from a box, but still, that can’t be the only reason why there’s cocoa power dusting the front of the fridge and wet clumps of instant coffee powder attached to the cupboards, why there’s buttermilk staining his jeans in half a dozen spots and egg shells crunching underneath his feet as he leans over to slide the cake into the oven.

He can’t be totally sure, but he suspects that Steven’s mere presence may have had something to do with it.

Amazingly, considering the absolute chaos surrounding him, Steven is remarkably clean, aside from a light coating of sugar dusting the front of his shirt. He’s cautiously prodding their gigantic bowl of coffee icing with a spatula, like he’s expecting it to come to life and bite him in the ass.

“I don’t think this is right,” he says with a frown, pulling the spatula out and watching the icing gloop back into the bowl. “It seems too thick.”

“It probably just needs to be stirred some more,” Andrew answers, setting a timer on his phone for thirty-five minutes before he rests it on top of the fridge, which seems to be the only space in the room that isn’t covered by some kind of food product. Steven nods and sticks his tongue out to lick the spatula clean, but before his tongue can quite make contact, Andrew gently pokes the handle of the spatula and knocks it slightly astray. A smear of icing ends up decorating Steven’s cheek like a patch of too-dark blush, and Steven groans even as a grin splits his mouth.

“What was that for?”

“We still have to use that, and I don’t think Adam would appreciate knowing that your spit was involved in the production of his birthday cake.” On a whim, he takes the spatula from Steven’s loose grip and pokes him on the end of his nose, leaving behind a near-perfect circle of icing, before he returns the spatula to its rightful place in the bowl.

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell him that.” Steven drags a thumb through the icing on his cheek and pops it into his mouth. After a moment, he groans happily, and his eyes flutter shut, and even though Andrew has seen the sight countless times, both on and off location, a rush of warmth automatically floods his cheeks in response. “That tastes amazing. I think Adam’s really going to like it.”

“Hmm.” Andrew’s not about to stick his fingers in the icing to find out, but thankfully, the smear on the tip of Steven’s nose is untouched, so he leans forward and kisses it. Once he’s licked it off his lips and savored the rich taste for a few moments, he nods. “That is really good. Might be my best work yet.”

“Our best work, you mean,” Steven retorts, rolling his eyes expansively as he leans back against the counter, sending a tiny puff of cocoa powder into the air, which is probably composed more of various cake ingredients than oxygen at this point. “You know, you don’t have to use the ‘there’s food on you’ excuse anymore. You can just kiss me because you want to.”

Andrew grins as he steps in closer and settles his hands on the counter on either side of Steven’s narrow hips. His fingers skate over loose particles of sugar and flour, and he doesn’t miss the way Steven draws in a breath when he leans in almost close enough for their foreheads to touch.

“But it worked so well that first time.” It’d been cake icing that time too, six months ago, although it’d been of the cream cheese variety rather than coffee flavored, and Andrew had been considerably less than sober when he’d leaned in and kissed it off the corner of Steven’s mouth.

He still thanks the powers that be every day for the liquid courage that allowed him to finally make a move after literally years of wanting to.

Steven shakes his head fondly and drags his thumb back across the smear of icing on his cheek before he traces Andrew’s bottom lip with it.

“Fine,” he says with a shrug. “We can do it your way then.” Steven wraps both of his hands tightly into the front of Andrew’s shirt and tugs him in, until their hips are pressing together, and leans in for a kiss. When his tongue flicks against the seam of Andrew’s mouth, Andrew groans and parts his lips, tips his head to the side so they can slot together a bit deeper and wraps his arms around Steven’s back. Steven sighs into the kiss and grazes his teeth against Andrew’s bottom lip, not hard enough to really be a bite, but hard enough to hint in that direction.

If that’s the game he wants to play, Andrew is more than capable of playing along.

He waits until Steven has pulled away to breathe before he makes his move. Before Steven can lean back in, Andrew gently grips Steven’s chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Can I?” he asks, glancing down at the long line of Steven’s neck before he looks up into his eyes. Steven nods enthusiastically and twists his head to the side, until his temple is resting back against the cupboard.

“Yeah,” he swallows, hands smoothing down Andrew’s chest to settle on his waist. His long fingers duck under the hem of Andrew’s shirt and brush over Andrew’s hips so softly that, for a moment, Andrew almost forgets what he was planning on doing.

Moments later, Steven’s throat bobs as he swallows, and that brings it all back.

He wastes no further time in ducking his head and brushing his mouth along the line of Steven’s jaw, from the point of his chin all the way to the slight dip below his ear. When Steven lets out a shuddering gasp, Andrew feels it reverberate in his own chest, and he remains still for a moment, simply savoring the close proximity. Sure, they’re close most of the time when they’re filming, but while Andrew still enjoys every moment of that, every moment of Steven’s knee bumping against his own or every brush of their shoulders, that closeness is mostly out of necessity.

But this isn’t for the camera. It’s just the two of them, and Andrew could, well and truly, stay like this all day, pressed together in two dozen different spots, content to listen to the muted thud of Steven’s heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breath.

Before he can fall too far down that particular rabbit hole of thought, Steven whines and drags his blunt nails along Andrew’s hipbone.

“I don’t have all day,” he says, although the sheer breathlessness of the statement takes away any bite that he may have tried to put into it. Technically, aside from finishing up the cake, they do have all day (or night, rather), but Andrew doesn’t think Steven is particularly interested in technicalities at this exact moment.

Which is fair, because neither is he.

“I was just admiring the view,” he replies, mouth catching on the jut of Steven’s jaw before he moves a little lower and presses a kiss to the taut skin over Steven’s pulse point. From there, he moves even lower, to where the soft collar of Steven’s sweater meets the base of his neck, and starts working on sucking a mark there. Steven groans and arches away from the lip of the counter to press his hips into Andrew’s. One of his hands slides out from underneath Andrew’s shirt and twists tightly into his hair, just to keep him in place.

In response, Andrew presses his teeth in a little firmer. When he eventually pulls away, he leaves behind a gorgeous cotton-candy pink mark, glistening and dotted with the outline of his own teeth. He presses a gentle kiss to soothe it before he migrates back towards Steven’s pulse point and starts working on another one. This time, Steven moans and starts shifting restlessly in the grip of Andrew’s arms. At first, Andrew thinks he’s trying to move away, that he’s misinterpreted the sound and he was sucking too hard, but before he can pull back to apologize, he realizes that Steven is trying to squirm his way up onto the edge of the counter. Andrew drops his arms momentarily, just long for Steven to succeed, and more flour and cocoa powder puffs into the air as he slides back to lean against the cupboard.

“Want me to keep going?” Andrew asks, unable to stop himself from teasing just a little. He gently presses his thumb into the first mark he created, and Steven bites down on his bottom lip.

“Please.” He hooks his heels around the backs of Andrew’s thighs and digs in a little, impatient. There’s still frosting faintly smeared on his cheek, and Andrew presses a quick kiss to it before he drops his palms to Steven’s thighs and returns to what he was doing.

Namely, marking Steven’s gorgeous neck up the best that he can.

By the time he finishes the fourth mark, his mouth is starting to get a little bit sore, and he’s so hard that it hurts, keeps finding himself pressing up against the edge of the counter for some kind of friction. Steven is panting for breath, and his restless fingers have tugged Andrew’s hair completely to hell. He slows things down a little, just to give his mouth a break, goes back to pressing soft kisses along the slope of Steven’s neck, tugs aside the loose collar of his shirt so he can trace the jut of his collarbone as well. Steven moans quietly and flexes his fingers in Andrew’s hair, tugs just hard enough for it to feel good. He wriggles his other hand between them and splays it on Andrew’s stomach, just above his belt buckle, and Andrew swallows hard, tenses a little in anticipation of where Steven’s hand might go next.

But, just as one of Steven’s fingers brushes against the waistband of Andrew’s jeans, a horribly obnoxious tune starts drifting from the top of the fridge. For a moment, Steven’s face crinkles in confusion, but then he groans loudly and drops his forehead to Andrew’s shoulder.

“I forgot about the cake,” he says, dropping his legs away from Andrew’s.

“Me too,” Andrew answers truthfully. He’s reluctant to move away from Steven, but they can’t fuck up the cake; it’s too late in the night to make another one, and Adam deserves better than store-bought (although Andrew’s sure that, if it really came down to, he could call Rie and she’d whip together a masterpiece before work tomorrow). He settles for pressing one last kiss to the corner of Steven’s mouth before he steps away to grab his phone, while Steven pulls oven mitts on.

“How long does the cake have to cool for?” he asks, pulling the oven door open, carefully taking the pan out, and setting it on the counter.

“Ten minutes,” Andrew answers, double-checking the recipe on his phone just to be sure. When he glances up, Steven is in the process of carelessly tossing the oven mitts aside. One of them nearly lands in the bowl of icing.

“Is it bad if it cools for longer than that before we ice it?” He switches all the dials on the oven off with faint clicks, eyes firmly fixed on Andrew. The marks on his neck are the color of strawberries now, and Andrew almost resents the fact that they’ll have to cover them up tomorrow before they go to work.

“I don’t think so.” Andrew sets his phone back on top of the fridge, where it’s safe, for the time being. Steven’s face scrunches up again, like he’s deep in thought. “Why?”

“Because I think we might need a little longer than ten minutes to finish up what we started.”

“You do, do you?” Andrew teases as Steven crosses the room and grabs his hand. “Want me to set another timer, just in case?”

“What I want you to do is kiss me some more,” Steven replies, leading the way out of the room. There’s flour and sugar all down the back of his pants, and Andrew can’t help but laugh a little, up until Steven abruptly turns around. He looks nothing less than utterly gorgeous, hair disheveled and neck marked up, eyes wide and lips parted, and Andrew almost decides to forgo the rest of the journey to the bedroom in favor of simply pressing Steven up against the wall and kissing him until there’s no air left in his lungs.

But then they would end up with sugar and flour and God only knows what else all over the wall, and Andrew’s fairly certain that it’s easier to wash that kind of thing out of the sheets rather than scrub it off the wall.

“Alright,” he answers, leaning in for a quick kiss before he bumps his nose against Steven’s. “I can do that.”

In the end, an hour passes before they get back to the cake. The consistency of the icing remains a little off no matter how long they stir for, and it isn’t exactly a pretty cake by the time all is said and done, but when Andrew sends a picture to Annie, she sends back a declaration that Adam is going to love it.

So between that and the series of blotchy pink marks staining Steven’s neck (and chest and inner thighs), Andrew declares the night to be an official success.

[sour--strawberries]

Dumb genius

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Tony starts to hate his additional pounds which leads to starving and self hatred and feeling unworthy of dating a person like Steve. Luckily, Steve knows better

length: 1 243 words

warnings: body acceptance fic with chubby!Tony, mentions of alcoholism

a/n: filling in more prompts! this fic is a bit on the sad side, but has a happy ending. hope you like it!

———

Dumb genius

Tony groaned, doing his best to suck his stomach in. Almost, almost there... Done! He managed to pull the zipper up and even button the black slacks. He looked in the mirror, turning around. Not bad. He just couldn't breathe. That was a minor discomfort. He also noticed that the material clung around his hips and butt. Nothing a long jacket wouldn't fix. If only the jacket would fit too, that was…

Giving up, Tony groaned louder, sliding a hand down his face. When did it happen that he stopped fitting in his own pants? He noticed that he had gained a bit of weight, but didn't realize that it was that bad. Damn sweatpants with elastic. They mislead him as the material was stretching with his growing waist, and he didn't think that it was so bad.

"Babe, are you ready?!"

"Just a sec!" Tony called back. They were almost late for the gala. He took his jacket and walked out of the bedroom, praying that his pants won't rip.

Steve beamed a smile, seeing his boyfriend. "Handsome as ever," he complimented Tony, kissing his cheek delicately. Tony gave a weak smile as an answer. Of course, Steve loved him no matter what. At least, that was what Tony liked to think.

"Oh, by the way, did you like the roast I made today? Used a new mix of herbs," Steve asked with a smile, meaning the lunch, he had brought to the workshop earlier. Tony tried to keep a stone face, his thought traveling to the roast with potatoes and gravy, perfect and juicy and delicious, that was left untouched and joined the launches from the whole week in the trash can. Tony felt bad about wasting food, but he couldn't let himself gain even another pound and it was sooo easy to do that, as Steve's religion was adding butter to everything.

"Yeah, it was great," Tony tried to make his smile a bit more real, even if his stomach painfully clenched at the lie. He ordered it to shut up and burn all the fat he already had on him.

"Hope you have some room for the food at the gala," Steve smiled, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's waist. Of course, Tony had plenty of room. He would have to fill himself with water to not eat anything.

***

It turned out harder than he expected. All kinds of cooked meats, tasty sandwiches, and bite sized desserts oozing with cream and chocolate. And here he was, sipping water with lemon and mint leaves. He won't make it. He won't. Just one bite, just one smoked plum wrapped in caramelized bacon... And then his hand instead of the plum brushed a bottle with scotch.

That would do too.

***

It wasn't the first time, Steve had to escort a drunk Tony. There was just something odd about this particular situation. It took only two glasses of scotch on the rocks, to practically knock the brunet down. Steve knew that Tony had a stronger head than this.

"Okay, back home," Steve hummed quietly, laying his boyfriend across the bed. He reached his hands to undo Tony's pants, but his hand was slapped away.

"Don't," Tony hiccuped out and Steve looked up, seeing his boyfriend's determined face, not understanding what caused it.

Maybe it was the alcohol or tiredness or something else, but Tony's face from determined changed into an almost crying one. "I don't want you to see me like this..." he said quietly, throwing arms over his face.

Steve didn't understand. Like what? He didn't have to ask, as Tony curled on his side and muttered something about being disgusting.

"Hey now," Steve put his hand over Tony's cheek, trying to get his attention. "What are you talking about? You are not disgusting," he assured.  

Tony zipped his mouth, shying away from the touch. The silent stream of drunk self loathing continued and with time Steve caught that the word 'fat' was appearing a lot, followed by 'disgusting' and 'tried to diet'.

"Diet?" Steve asked. What diet? He would know if Tony was dieting, he was the one preparing all of his meals --- oh. Steve bit his bottom lip. When he thought more about it, the plates he collected from the lab were always perfectly clear. Even too perfectly, as Tony usually left some bits behind, like some chopped parsley, or potatoes he didn't manage to fit in. Suddenly, Steve became afraid to look into the trash can under brunet's desk.

"Stupid…" Tony muttered, this time not meaning himself, but the trouser, painfully digging into his skin. Steve understood why Tony wiggled his hips and didn't wait for a 'no', undoing the top button and zipper, pulling the pants down. He saw a red, painful strip from the place the material pinned into the skin.

"Dammit, Tony," he gasped quietly, imagining the pain the brunet had to endure the whole evening. Tony didn't say a word, looking everywhere but not on his soldier. Steve had to feel disgusted by him.

"You are so stupid," Steve shook his head, quietly chiding, "so, so stupid," he continued, undressing him, until there was only underwear left. Surprisingly, Tony didn't even protest or tried to move away, too drunk and sad to even think about doing any of those things.

"I wish you could see yourself how I see you," Steve whispered, taking Tony's weak hand and pressing it to his cheek. "Smart, beautiful and sexy. You are a whole package," he said with love, meaning every word. He loved every part of him. Starting from the small feet, a bit rough on the edges from walking barefoot whenever he could, through the soft, pudgy tummy, the scarred chest from the arc reactor and ending on the top of his head, where brown hair were curling funnily, whenever they had a chance to grow slightly longer.

Tony huffed, his eyes sad, contrasting with Steve's love filled one. "You only say that because you love me," he complained.

At first, Tony didn't understand why Steve smiled like that. It was an honest, loving smile. The kind of smile that can't be taught or schooled, one that comes naturally and can't be hidden when encountering something breathtakingly beautiful. Steve gave the other man all the time he needed to figure it out on his own.

Tony blinked, when it all finally clicked in his head. All this time, he was worried that Steve would leave him and find someone slimmer and he starved to be sexy again. For Steve, he was sexy the whole time.

"Oh," tumbled out of his mouth, and Steve laughed at the adorably confused face.

"I love you so much," the soldier smiled, sinking down and laying behind Tony's back, cuddling with him, hands splayed against the soft stomach. "My dumb genius," he whispered softly and kissed his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Mmm," Tony hummed, the alcohol leaving his head and his heart filling up with hope and love. He was loved. No matter what. Sometimes it was still hard for him to believe it.  "I love you too," he whispered softly, groaning in delight when strong fingers massaged his belly, easing the pain from the red mark, "now I love you even more."

Steve laughed into his boyfriend's shoulder and pulled the covers over them, already planning a filling, nutritious breakfast for starters, to make up for all the lost meals.