#Iv been feeling more and more like a top and also more sadistic? is this my Pokémo evolution into being verse?
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I swear to god I need to stop ovulating NOW. Iv been thinking nonstop abt choking someone out
#need my hands wrapped around someone’s throat as they spasm and choke and thrash. who said that#Iv been feeling more and more like a top and also more sadistic? is this my Pokémo evolution into being verse?#unfortunately horny. I need to bang someone’s head on the ground.
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bros the type too.. ryomen sukuna boyfriend headcannons
okay…ik i disappeared for a few days (a month is not a few) but i’m back now, so yay!! and i’ve got sukuna headcannons cause he’s been growing on me lately, so hope you enjoy!! >.<
— bro is a menace to society and would most likely kill someone if they were to look at him for too long. but when it comes to you, sukuna can be a bit a softy. (a softy is an understatement, the curse is totally whipped).
for instance, he won’t let anyone touch him. touch him and you’ll end up with your head off of your shoulders. but when it comes to you..the literal love of his (overly long) life; you could touch him wherever and sukuna wouldn’t mind at all.
“why’d you stop?”
your gaze moved from your phone to the face that sat comfortably in between each of your thighs. you tilted your head to side and furrowed your eyebrows, “stopped what?”
sukuna looked puzzled, possibly looking for a way to explain it without sounded corny.
“the things you do with my hair.”
“oh, play with you hair?” a warm smiled appeared on your face first, then a breathless giggle. “thought you did like people touching you.”
“i don’t care with you do, woman.”
“whatever you want..”
he ended up getting his spiky pink locks played with again, and he ended up falling asleep like a new-born.
— bros the type to deny to everybody that he is head over heels for you. everyone sees it and everyone knows it..but if they were to ever mention it, sukuna would deny deny deny.
especially to his good friend, uraume. he’ll rant and rave about how good you are and how much he loves you any chance he gets with her.
“if you wanna marry her, just do it already!”
sukuna paused, “what?”
“you’ve been telling me about the girl for the past five minutes.” uraume laughed under her breath, “she really has you wrapped around her finger.”
— on top of that, bros the type to give you praise more than anything. he dosent know much about love languages, or affection in general. he’ll try when he feels it’s right, trust, he will cringe the first few times, having a hard time going anything in general. but he’ll get used to it.. (but he hates when you tease him about it)
“you say something?” you looked at the man through the mirror, he was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as his gaze laid somewhere on the floor.
you were so busy with trying to line your lips, you didn’t hear what sukuna had said..
“i said you look good. really..beautiful.” it was a sight to see someone who could murder someone with the blink of an eye act so..timid.
“awe.” you turned you head and peered over your shoulder, “you shy, ‘kuna?”
“i take it back.” he grumbled, turning to leave the bathroom. you quickly ran after him and tugged onto his arm.
“i was juuust kidding!” you smiled innocently, “thank you, sukuna.”
he didn’t say anything back, but the look on his face was enough.
— bros the type to not use pet names that often. sukuna has never seen the point of them, and sees them as pointless. he uses them rarely, and whenever he does..it catches you off guard.
“bae..!” sukuna called out, he expected a quick response and was confused when he didn’t get one.
“bae!”
no response, “y/n!”
“huh?!” you finally responded and poked your head from around the corner with concern, “why are you yelling?”
“you weren’t responding.”
you took a second then realized, “oooh! you were calling me? thought that was something else..”
— bros the type to love you in his own weird way, even though he’s a sadistic psycho.
i finally uploaded… also! mb for disappearing, school and life got in the way. but im back! promise, im not a coryxkenshin 2.0 ;-;. ive got more things coming so i hope you enjoy..and remember, you can always request something! love you, baaaiii!!! (if you saw any typos, no you didn’t)
#sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#jjk ryomen#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#ryomen x reader#jjk fluff#x reader#jujutsu ryomen
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In an empty theatre, teardrops echo like the sound of applause.
All I do is lay down a bet~ It’s out of my control if my opponent decides to lay down their life, isn’t it?
After the chaos, not much was left of Sigonia-IV, yet there were two malnourished children-- Kakavasha and his Big Sis, nearly perishing from the elements on the ruined planet.
One day, there was finally salvation in the form of a light-- a light, and a beautiful woman dressed in elegant clothing peering down at them under a wide-brimmed hat.
She told them that they would be safe, that they could trust her-- and what other option did they have? She looked so different, and seemed so kind compared to the others that have mistreated them... Big Sis had been willing to give her a chance.
And so, Kakavasha was whisked away to another world, offered clean clothes and a room of his own. He fell asleep immediately, curling up on the soft carpet of the floor.
When he awoke, his Big Sis wasn't there. But they said she would be. They told him she would be. So he wanders through the strange building against his better judgement.
It wasn't long before he heard muffled words coming from the ajar door of a bright room. He snuck over to peek into the room and he saw people dressed in simplistic black clothing, taking notes on some sort of devices and huddled around a bed.
And on the bed lay the body of his dead sister. But those people would never acknowledge her as such; to them she was only an experiment. One of the last Sigonians of the Avgin race, a miraculous discovery. And they weren't going to tell him. They were going to hide it from him.
Blinded by the emotions swirling around inside of him, Kakavasha threw himself through the doorway, grabbing the first sharp tool in sight, and ended the lives of all the professionals in that wretched room one by one.
He'd cried the whole time. He couldn't identify the emotion the tears stemmed from-- whether from sadness at the loss of his sister, or from the rage burning bright-- but as the boy stood there, he dropped his weapon, wrapping his arms around himself in horror...
He didn't feel guilty for what he'd done.
That sort of control-- the ability to watch the life of another mortal slip away between his fingers and know that he was the cause...
It was empowering.
Notes from the moderator:
~ Mod also runs the @aventurine-official rp account, so the format is her own and is not plagiarized :)
~ Art (2nd top picture and pfp) and concept credit goes to @darlix747! Their original post is here
~ This Aventurine exists in the same universe as @the-truth-of-nothingness
A famous musical artist and actor, known for masking his true self.
Roams around Penacony but travels the cosmos to perform
Is quite sadistic and will bet others on their life-- resulting in their death, because he never loses.
Longs to destroy the IPC as vengeance for the lies and betrayal from which his sister suffered
The glistening teardrop hanging around his neck allows him to mesmerize others with a glance, if he so wishes-- the glow of his eyes is interconnected
(I might add more details later, or link a headcanon post!)
Guidelines:
~ Keep the asks sfw if you please, suggestive is okay!
~ No random links in asks unless they are links to other Tumblr posts (if they are there, please specify what they are)
~ Be kind, please. Any hateful comments related but not limited to racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, ageism and transphobia will not be tolerated here and you may be blocked.
~ All ships (age-appropriate) are welcome. (I personally believe Aventurine is gay as hell, so he will have a noticeable interest in men versus women).
~ Try to avoid sending DMs to the mod unless you are another mod
~ Anons are more than welcome here! You may have a personalized tag and everything :)
List of current anon signoffs here
Key (if applicable):
" " : for dialogue
* * : for movements
( ) : ooc
Tags:
#ace of spades ♠️ : Art reblogs
#the flip of a coin 🪙 : Random thoughts and calm moments
#trump card 🃏 : Asks from anons and others
#life on the line 🎲 : Interactions with Honkai Star Rail blogs
#melancholy theatre 🎭 : Interactions with other members of the Masked Fools
#dear doctor 🍷 : Interactions with / mentions of the Veritas Ratio in his universe
Masterlist post of Honkai Star Rail-official blogs linked here
#intro post#pinned post#oc#hsr oc#honkai star rail#hsr aventurine#aventurine#aventurine honkai star rail#masked fools#hsr rp
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Speculation from the cavern part IV
Part I, Part II, Part III
Madara never needed Obito for achieving Infinite Tsukuyomi plan. I slowly came to this conclusion thanks to Lunyzare's post and Peek of eternity's reflexion.
Obito is probably the villain I empathy the least. As a consequence, he's also a character I don't really get his motive. Or should I say I get it, but I've found them shallow comparing to the scale of damages he did to the shinobi world.
If you really think about it, Originally, Madara only needs Nagato for his big plan. Only Nagato can summon the Gedo statue, bears rinnegan, and summons him back to life. All he needed to do is to brainwashed him enough into thinking he needs to be resurrect (but I don't even think he would have succeeded, Madara is a great schemer but a poor seducer contrary to Oroshimaru the exact reverse)
Obito is a superficial middleman in his project. He is mostly here because Madara craves for someone by his side. We don't know the reasons but we can guess :
Obito is his direct descendant he feels connected with him
just a clan companion that he still cares for (in the same way he cared for Sasuke by giving him "more" time and offer to collaborate with him)
or he saw his young innocent self in Obito
or he saw Izuna's character, since they share the same birthday
Even Obito himself at some point knows that there was something deeper than just a pawn. He insists so much in asking Madara : Who am I for you? - For context it just was after the grandiose Naruto's talk no jutsu.
Look ! He really seems genuinely hurt to have been rejected by Obito. In his twisted mind, holding his name and being his servant is the highest proof of trust Madara can give.
My opinion, Madara loves toxic relationship. We already saw this love/hate behaviour with Hashirama but with Obito he went even further in his delirium. He acted in both manner, very caring and very sadistic towards him.
How caring? First of all he chose him. He, as individualist and megalomaniac as he is, entrusted him with all he has left : his name and his dream. He also saved his life. Obito was half dead under this rock, it was really a desperate gesture. Do you guys remember when Tsunade spent hours studying and trying to save Lee's legs? And she was the best medical ninja at the time. Gai also even with advance technologies in Boruto is still disable. Madara isn't known to have such skills. He probably can do a decent job, after all he had a lot of free time to learn different type of jutsu in his cave, but by his own words it was a difficult task too save someone with half of his body crushed. On top of that chance of being compatible with Hashirama's cells are very low. You need a minimum of dedication to carry on while there is a lot of healthy and talented young Uchihas still alive. During the 4th war, He also physically protect Obito with his gunbai, finds excuse to justify why Obito didn't follow his plan, try to engage conversation with him many time (which Obito didn't respond at all). He only reversed his attitude when he realised that Nagato was not there anymore and Obito was definitely betraying him.
And about his sadistic side, well obviously Obito was his precious pawn in his great scheme. He careful crafted him to be his carbon copy. And in order to be a new Madara you need to have a taste of Madara's suffering. Obito too will loose everyone dear to his heart and also loose any hope in this world. He imposes on Obito his own trauma. A bit like a vampire's bite. Zetsu played with Madara's gullibility, Madara played with Obito's. If he can break this child as he had been broken in the past, it will confirm his own hopeless philosophy and artificially create a companion understanding his lonely perspective.
Toxic relationship at it's finest, I'm telling you !
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ive been scrollin through Cooler tag in hopes to find something that ISN'T a literral water cooler and found that req you did 👁️ 👁️
can you please write relationship hcs with an earthling s/o for Cooler Frieza and King Cold? (seperate)
Frieza Family x Reader Headcanons
I'm still new to the hc thing. But I like this, I hope you do too, Mx. Anonymous!
🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊
Want more from me? Check out my Masterlist!
🧊Frieza Clan🧊
Warning(s): Fluff, hints at NSFW (but not descriptive)
The Frieza Family is the strongest family in the universe, but... you make them a little weak.
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
Cooler
SFW
First of all, he was gentle with you. Sometimes, he feared his power would break you.
Like, you would have to guide him with your hands to show him, what amount of pressure is okay.
He's very sweet to you.
Although it was foreign to him, he often showed you affection.
He loves spending time with you.
He finds it adorable when you struggle with tasks he finds simple, like reaching onto the top shelf or fixing a lightbulb.
But don't worry, he'll help you, he loves helping you.
At night, he'll take you flying.
He absolutely finds it adorable when you reach for the stars.
He grows tempted to retrieve one for you.
He also secretly loves, when you hold on tight to him, so you won't fall.
It was strange to him the first time you got sick around him. But it reminded him of how fragile you could be and that he needed to take care of you.
He'll carry heavy loads for you.
Quite honestly he loves your human nature, your weakness, it gives you something to need him for.
He's never felt wanted before.
NSFW
Slow and Heavy
He loves, loves, loves to savor you. Plan. Take his time. Like you're a gourmet dish.
He'll torment you until he loses his patience, which isn't easy.
He's a quick learner and finds out what makes you tick, what you like, in no time.
Frieza
SFW
Oh, you clashed in the beginning.
Like, really, clashed.
He wasn't a...human person.
You didn't care for his polite sarcasm.
He didn't like that you didn't have a single ounce of fear
But over time...
You warmed up to each other.
You found him to be charismatic.
And he found you cute, weak, but cute.
You'll often have long talks at night about random things.
He doesn't let you touch him often.
But you get rare times when you can.
He flusters a little, and plays it off.
He brags about you, like, to no end.
And he'll spoil you.
He always makes sure you're safe.
And when you aren't he'll break.
But if you're unsafe due to another person...he'll break them.
He'll harass you to eat healthily and have healthy habits.
He'll kill anyone who looks at you funny, either in interest or questioning your presence.
Sometimes, if he feels like it, he'll let you decide their fate.
Or other times...he'll show you off.
NSFW
Sadist
Very much so.
And he has the ability to be patient when necessary.
So he can easily hold out on himself to make you suffer.
He needs complete dominance, and control.
Which makes him enjoy your humanity, it's easy to dominate you.
"Touch me, and I will not continue."
Rather than learning how you work, he'll test it when the time arises.
"Oh my, that seems to please you~"
His pacing is both aggressive, and elegant all at once.
Just like him.
He'll do many things to make you relinquish your control.
But he prefers restraint.
And one thing he loves is when you have the nerve to talk back, just to become mush.
"All your bluster, and you've been reduced to the weak little human you are."
King Cold
SFW
His elegance caught your attention.
Mainly because he was a giant.
It didn't match to you.
Like you practically have to basically do a back-bend to look into his eyes.
He's quite arrogant about his strength.
But you think it's also because he wants to impress you.
He SPOILS you.
Nice dates, space wine.
The finest delicacies in the universe.
The finest jewelry.
The finest clothes.
He'll often pet your head.
And he totally finds it cute how small you are.
He teases you for your human nature.
He'll often carry you in an arm.
Which flusters you.
But you can get him back by caressing his horns.
Sometimes he'll watch you from afar if you play in the nature, he's fond of the little moments with you despite everything.
He's completely and utterly fallen in love with you.
NSFW
All that elegance?
Still there, but less...restrained.
You know that affinity for weapons he has?
He likes to trail a pretty little custom knife down your jaw, lower, lower, lower...
He knows you have a thing for his thighs.
And his arms...
He uses that knowledge.
He plays polite, but really you know he's not...he plans to do many impolite things
#cooler#king cold#cooler x reader#King Cold x Reader#frieza#frieza x reader#dbz#dragon ball z#dbz headcanons#headcanon#anime#anime headcanons
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Yandere Amajiki W/ A Mean S/o:
This was requested a long time ago but i decided to do it now because i need new ideas and writing long fics is taking up a lot my time and killing the mood of this blog. I will still be writing long fics and series but people like my hc and ive been neglecting that part of my following. Thank you for your patience, its very appreciated!
(Amajiki is a pro hero and you're a also a pro hero who happens to be incredibly sadistic.)
MDNI
W: NSFW, Pegging, AFAB Reader, Nipple Play, Biting, Spanking, Use Buttplug, Hair Pulling
TW: Manipulation, Murder, Gaslighting, Abuse, Toxic Behavior
Tamaki hates, absolutely HATES it when you spend time with other people that aren’t himself. Yeah, you both arent dating but he feels like you're betraying him in a way.
He technically has never spoken to you, he once directed a "hmmm" in your direction but that was it. Nothing more and nothing less.
He's tried to speak to you, but you make him so nervous. You're so perfect that it scares him.
He came up to you during an agency briefing and tried to ask you out for some coffee but he was moved to the side by someone else, some guy who had more confidence to ask you out for coffee.
Tamaki didn't take that well.
He followed the two of you to the coffee shop you went to and watched how the guy miserably tried to hold your hand.
You were playing hard to get.
Was that how you liked it?
Tamaki paid closer attention to what you liked and disliked in the hopes that it would tell him what he should do to increase his chance with you.
He learned that you liked a lot of classical music. He found it odd because you usually brought rock and metal band shirts for your civilian clothes but he guessed he might have misunderstood you.
He was able to get the key to your locker and stole some of your clothes. He promised to bring them back the next day but he ended up keeping them. He uses them as sleepwear and it makes him think that you’re sleeping next to him.
He begins to write in his diary again. Most of his entries are about how you looked that day and how much he wanted to kiss you.
His dreams were another problem all on their own. He wanted to feel your warm breath next to his skin and feel your body on top of his.
The way he wants your hand to wrap around his throat as you use his as your personal pleasure toy has him jerking off early in the morning or in the middle of the night.
He decides to act boldly and brings you gifts.
A cup of warm coffee, a new band shirt, new sweaters, even books about different animals were made present on your desk and locker.
He bought you so much that it was beginning to fill up your usually empty apartment.
You knew that he was the one buying you gifts and it wasn’t surprising to know it was him.
He was obvious. The guy that “asked you out” was your friend just trying to help you get away from Tamaki and his weird staring.
You both gossiped about how lanky and weird he was. If only Tamaki could have heard all the awful things you were saying about him maybe he would have left you alone.
But you enjoyed his courting. It felt nice to be wanted by some weirdo with horrible social skills. You also had to admit that he was kinda cute, more in the vulnerable-looking way.
You craved the attention and you loved how you had him hooked so it wasn’t hard to make him completely focus on you.
You started by doing small things, making idle conversation with him even though it was all one-sided, and bringing him coffee.
You then moved into bringing him food or asking him out for lunch, nothing out there was considered dating.
You also began to flirt with him openly. His face would get all red but it was worth every second of awkward conversation with him. He was yours and his focus would only be on you.
Maybe it was sick to feel so thrilled by having a puny guy be lead when you know that he has a thing for you, but it was fun.
He was putty in your hand and you could wait to test him on how loyal and desperate he was for you.
You find someone disposable, another coworker who you knew no one would think twice about so you saw it fit to use them as your persona punching bag.
Their face was completely destroyed and they stopped breathing a long time ago.
It didn’t mean you were just going to stop.
Tamaki came across you and the body of his former coworker in an alleyway. He thought that you and the coworker were going to sneak away and do…. whatever his mind thought you were going to do.
He couldn’t imagine that he would find you covered in blood with a nasty smile on your face as you continued to deface your coworker.
“Y- Y/n?” Tamaki’s voice was faint but ever-present. You turn around and greet him with fake shock.
You beg him to not tell anyone what you’ve done, “It was self-defense. He tried to take advantage of me. Please, Tamaki, help me.”
You kneeled in front of him, grabbed onto his cloak, and began to cry into it.
His arms immediately wrap around you and wiped away the fake tears you shed.
How couldn’t he help you? You were so vulnerable and your vial coworker had just attempted to take advantage of you.
He had to protect you.
Work-life changed dramatically for the both of you. Tamaki began taking fewer days and smaller shifts so he could be by your side to console you after your shifts.
His friends were aware of how much he liked you but they weren’t aware of the obsession he held for you. If they did they would probably find it adorable since they’d assume it was innocent fun.
If they only knew he hid your victim’s body in his apartment for a few days before getting rid of it.
You liked messing with him at home too.
He would come over to your palace and do all of your home chores for you. Your home has never been so spotless thanks to him.
You would also give him what he wanted, you weren’t that mean.
Tamaki made it clear that he had a crush on you and you felt bored enough to make the first move because of his shyness.
You yanked his hair and made him face you.
“Y- Y-n? W-hat are you do- doing?” His face grew red and you could feel his heartbeat violently in his chest.
“I want to thank you for being so sweet with me.” You whisper.
You kissed him. A simple need-filled kiss that had him moaning and whimpering.
You know that taking advantage of this anxious and sweet man would lead to further problems but he was too pretty not to fuck.
Playing with his body told you all of his weaknesses.
Playing with his nipples gave you loud gasps and soft moans while sucking on them brought him to tears.
The more time he spent at your place, the more he knew he wanted you to belong to him.
You fucked him till his mind went blank. His ass was numb from all of the spankings you gave it and the constant abuse you showed his hole but he loved it all.
You made him feel like he was indestructible.
He felt loved every time you both met up.
But his favorite thing of all was when you’d bite his neck.
You claimed him, you were his and he was yours. No one would come in between the both of you.
You had him where you wanted him and it was gratifying to know that such a successful hero could be so easily manipulated.
You abused him, beat him, even gaslight him about the one time you flirted and slept with a colleague telling him that you never did it and that if you ever did it’s because he didn’t fuck you well enough.
You yelled abuse at him, mostly for minor things like forgetting to do the dishes, but he never complained. He accepted that he failed you and promised you that he would do better for you.
“Y/n? Can I ask you something?” He was sweating bullets in his suit, the noise of the other patrons not truly helping him in his current predicament.
“Sure, what do you want.” You continue to eat your steak and chuckled at how he strained himself to speak louder.
“I- I wanted to-” He struggled to muffle his moan as you turned up the level to the vibrating buttplug you got him some time ago.
“I- w-want- fuck˜ I wa-nt to ask if- if you w-ant to marry m-me?” He leaned onto the table and tried to hide his face by covering it with his arms.
You on the other hand already knew what you would say but you wanted to see how he’d react if you hesitated.
You remained silent for the rest of the night while Tamaki silently followed you around hoping that he didn’t just ruin your relationship.
You found yourself at the end of the night fucking into him while he cried out your name.
His drool slid down the sides of his mouth and his body was covered in bruises.
He felt so vulnerable yet afraid. You never answered him.
Did you love him? Did you want him like he wanted you? Were you using him?
Was there someone else he should be concerned about? Was there another body he would need to hide soon?
“I love you so much, Tamaki. Never leave me, please?” With a set of fake tears in your eyes, you swoop down and kiss him breathless.
He felt like he was on cloud nine. Was this a yes?
“Let’s be together forever.” Yes, you did say yes.
#yandere amajiki#tamaki amajiki#mha#bnha#my hero academia#amajiki x reader#tamaki x reader#tamaki x gn! reader#amajiki x you#amajiki x gn! reader#mean reader#ask#DD answers#suneater
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Hey... ehhh... me again...👀
Like, I just got a real bad sunburn because I was with my BFF in her pool for like 5h without sunprotection, and the sunburn I got because Of it is like for real straight up Painfull as shit so I thought how would the slasher react to their S/O getting a really bad sunburn and how would they help her??
So yeah sorry if I should annoy you with my requests👉👈
This is a very cute idea but also please wear sunscreen. Those UV rays are no joke bestie. If you got a green thumb, or even don’t, aloe plants are also great investments. Please stay safe luv!
-Fern
Slashers x S/O With A Sunburn
Michael Myers
Michael doesn’t get sun burnt all that often. He keeps all of his skin covered when he is outside and the rest of his time is spent indoors. Although he does remember getting sunburns when he was younger and remembers that they were not fun. So he does his best to help, but doesn’t really know how.
It’s Michael and of course he’s always curious, especially about pain. Sorry y/n, he is going to poke your sunburn to see how you’ll react.
However, he does bring you a lot of water to make sure you stay hydrated. He may not know how to treat a sunburn but he does know being in the sun that long can cause dehydration.
Michael would also be amused by how red you get if you’re pale. He is also grossed out by your skin peeling when you start to heal. You look like a shedding reptile and he is not a fan.
Bo Sinclair
Literally will not shut up about how you should know to wear sunscreen or avoid being in the sun for that long. Simultaneously calls sunscreen “bitch spray” though.
Bo is more than willing to help you rub aloe on the places you can’t reach though. We all know he’s perverted and loves to make dirty jokes so it’s perfect for him. “You know, you didn’t need an excuse for me to touch ya darlin’, you coulda just asked.”
Picks at you when the cold gel makes you hiss and flinch away. Bo would also be the one who wouldn’t use enough aloe so him touching your skin feels like hell.
Would 100% try to sneak his hands from your back further down to your ass. If he’s gonna spend time helping you he expects to be paid with a handful of ass.
Vincent Sinclair
Honestly, Vincent has probably forgotten what a sunburn feels like. He rarely ever leaves the house, or even the basement, so he hasn’t been outside long enough to get burnt.
Pities you and how miserable you look squirming around trying to keep your clothes from touching you. Would let you take the sheet off of the bed and just wrap it around you.
He’s the closest thing Ambrose has to a doctor and is the most capable of helping you. Makes sure to keep aloe on your skin and constantly reminds you to drink water.
Don’t get me wrong, Vincent really does pity you but when you hop in the shower and holler he can’t help but laugh to himself. You knew better than to just hop right in like that.
Thomas Hewitt
Wouldn’t be much help with the healing part but he does take over your chores so that you can rest and heal. A sunburn that bad definitely brings some exhaustion along with it.
Luda Mae knows plenty of home remedies and is very familiar with all sorts of ailments the Texas heat inflicts. She’ll have you feeling better in no time.
Hoyt would definitely try and smack your sunburn. Death glares from Tommy and threats from Luda Mae are the only things saving you. He knows Thomas would kill him so he does his best to not.
Thomas would feel bad that he can’t help you out much. Would also be embarrassed to find you wearing little to no clothing since clothes are very uncomfortable. He would freak out and be very flustered.
Brahms Heelshire
Watches you suffer.
If you had followed the rules and not left the house y/n, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place now would it? But no, you just had to neglect the rules AND the meticulous schedule he had so carefully crafted. How rude.
After watching you for a little bit though Brahms begins to feel bad for you. You look so sad and miserable trying so hard to get comfortable and failing. He watches you try and fail to sleep much that night and lets you rest for a little bit but that’s the most you’re going to get from him.
He definitely isn’t going to complain if you decide to not wear clothes around your room. It’s a better view for him to watch through the walls and he is definitely going to enjoy the show. And you sleep on top of the covers? Maybe he should let you get sunburnt more often.
Billy Loomis
You want him to rub aloe on your back? Oh no worries, he’ll do your whole body for you. No really y/n, he insists, please let him rub his hands all over you.
He really does feel bad for you, he just does a bad job of showing it. Billy won’t do much unless you specifically ask him to. But he does make sure you stay hydrated after being out in the sun.
He will turn the shower on for you and make sure that the water is anything but hot. Also makes sure the water pressure isn’t turned up so the water cannot attack your burned skin.
Refers to your peeling as shedding and is very grossed out by it. Don’t shed on his furniture, or his clothes, or his anything. Keep your skin to yourself please.
Stu Macher
Goes out and buys any and every aloe product he can find. He doesn’t want to see you in pain.
That being said he does seem to enjoy poking your sunburn. If you ask, he couldn’t tell you why. Maybe he just enjoys seeing you in mild pain, who knows.
Is more than okay with rubbing aloe on your back but he puts on way to much no it’s going to take forever to dry. His genius idea is for you to sit in front of a fan but then you just freeze. RIP y/n, you can’t win.
Stays by your side and fetches anything you need so that you don’t have to move after you finally found a way to sit or lay that is comfortable and doesn’t hurt.
Jesse Cromeans
He wouldn’t let you get burnt in the first place. Jesse watches you any time you’re outside and constantly reminds you to put on sunscreen. If he can’t be with you, you’ll receive constant reminders to reapply sunscreen when it’s time.
Also invests in really good sunscreen that won’t come off in the water. That way, you can swim in peace and not worry about getting burnt while in the water.
If you do happen to get burnt, don’t worry he buys top of the line aloe products and helps you apply it all over. You also won’t have to worry about the sheets rubbing and scratching you since he once again buys only the best of the best.
Makes sure you drink plenty of water as well. He can’t have you getting dehydrated and passing out on him. Not like he wouldn’t pay for one of those IV bags even if you did.
Asa Emory
It would take you getting burnt once for him to become over protective. He’ll constantly remind you to wear sunscreen but overall just tries to keep you out of the sun.
Don’t make him have to lock you in that hotel so that you can’t get sunburnt. Asa won’t hesitate to do so if he feels that it is necessary. After all, he has to keep his most prized piece of his collection in good condition.
This man is a sadist. He enjoys using your sunburn to inflict more pain upon you. Don’t think he won’t degrade you for “not knowing how to take care of yourself.”
Honestly it just furthers his belief that you need him to protect you and keep you safe. You’re pathetic, you can’t even stop yourself from getting sunburnt. What would you ever do without him to keep you safe?
#slashers#slasher x reader#slasher x you#slasher hcs#michael myers x reader#michael myers#bo sinclair x reader#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair#house of wax#thomas hewitt x reader#thomas hewitt#brahms heelshire x reader#the boy x reader#the boy 2016#billy loomis x reader#billy loomis#stu macher x reader#stu macher#ghostface x reader#ghostface#jesse cromeans x reader#jesse cromeans#chromeskull x reader#chromeskull#asa emory x reader#asa emory#the collector x reader
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Quick question, I been in the fandom for a long ass time (since the first sadist animatic since I was a fan of sadist since their Batim days) so I think I good grasp on all of the folk in the smp but uh.... I kinda realised that I have no clue why c!Niki hates c! Wilbur and even more so, why does everyone thinks she's a girlboss for it??? Did I miss an entire plotline orrrr?
(sent this to a couple of other folk, hope you don't mind)
admittedly, im not the best well versed in it either (i'd recc going to mia geoguessbur, whos tbh the expert on c!wilbur and c!niki imo) but the short of it is: he realized the anger she had previously associated with tommy (because he "ruined everything", also see her attempted murder) was wrongly placed. he didn't do anything! ....and then she shifted the blame and that anger to wilbur instead of her like... dealing with her emotions. oops!
as for the girlboss thing... i think depending from person to person WHY they do it varies.
part of it is a willful ignorance of c!niki's character and her arc and instead working to fit her to a trope, i'm sure of it. likewise (though a bit cynical), i feel like a lot of people dont follow the female characters/ccs but dont want to LOOK like they dont so they... kind of fake it til they make it kind of thing? using the girlboss method is a great and easy way to show support for a character without having to actually care nor show any amount of depth in investment in who that character actually IS or going through. Again, thats a cynical view though and absolutely not the only reason ppl "girlboss-ify" characters.
some of it is encouraging bad decisions in the same way ppl chanted for wilbur to blow up lmanberg-- yeah its not healthy, but its fun and dramatic so im gonna be positive about it! go off!
some of it also (at least for me so im counting it) is like.... its more complex than you can get into comfortably (or at least casually). theres nuance and morals and what they're doing isn't right but its not a simple choice either. so you just... say girlboss instead and move on? again its also tied to the second point where you're encouraging bad actions, but with this point as compared the other like... intent that it IS deeper than that, its more tragic. you're glossing over it for the sake of levity, if that makes sense? Its a tragedy and you like it. (admittedly tho, i've used this type of "girlbossing" the most with like... c!quackity and the prison arc bc i was too tired to debate morals FJDSKLFJ)
its important tho to keep in mind the difference in how ppl treat male vs female characters with the "girlboss-ification" no matter what though. are you treating all female characters the same and glossing over their depth or erasing their character to fit a typical "strong girl" or "boss girl" archetype? also ties back to the first point, is your support superficial to make yourself look good?
theres definitely a trend in fandom i think to ignore the depth with female characters and their actions/motives while digging in deep to the male characters. men are allowed to be a tragedy while women are ''empowered'' by their tragedy. as an example off top my head: the eggpire. ive seen multiple points talking about the underlying tragedy of members like bad or ant and how they got to that point, but most ive seen about hannah are just... "yeah shes evil now #girlboss".
this isnt to say that you SHOULDNT acknowledge the depth of those male characters, nor to try and like.. single out eggpire fans, its just the clearest example i can think of. multiple characters going thru the same/similar scenarios, but the reception to them is different
despite all the of above, i dont think "girlboss-ifying" a character is inherently a bad thing. At least when used responsibly, like the second or third option presented. it IS a fun shorthand for "thing character is being active and doing things i like", often with a unsaid message of "this character is doing BAD things that i like". i dont think it should be tossed aside or never used, just used mindfully. again: why are you treating this character like this? how much do you actually know about the situation? etc.
#dream smp#mcyt#niki#og post#(jeb bush voice) please clap#answered#anon#long post#i've. thought abt this a lot#again bc i saw ppl calling out the female girlboss behavior#and my first instinct was to defend myself bc i Enjoy using girlboss like discussed#and esp bc i apply it frequently without regards to gender (i think)#but after stepping back: they're right and have merit to their point#there IS a marked difference in how characters are treated at large based on gender. its okay to like... acknowlege that.#you have to in order to be able to change it#also i dont call out those scenarios out of malintent. i know i have done the 'support [blank] bc i want to appear good' even if i dont car#like. thats human instinct to appear good its okay. you just have to#ACKNOWLEDGE it and realize what you're doing#and make a point to like. improve or stop or just continue knowing why you;re doing it yknow#idk man i love rambling in tags FJKDLSJF
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Hakuoki Ramblings (Part 2.5?)
hello. so i wanted to do a sorta character analysis thing (it's probably gonna read out more like a 'reasons why i love X and they have a place in my brain) and so i decided to do a seperate, spe-shal post for this. and who better than mah boi okita?
from the moment he first appeared on my screen and said those infamous first lines, he took away my breath (and my sanity, and the top spot on my ultimate husbando list. but i digress). even now, my love for okita is strong as always (even iba isn't enough, like he's great and all, but i feel like i like him because of the potential he had as opposed to his actual character).
the other okita souji I've seen (who is also based on the real life figure, albeit loosely) is the Okita Sougo of Gintama. in the show (which is hard to slug through but it's pre good, i'd recommend to watch), okita is seen as a sadistic swordsman who has his insane moments and a rivalry with hijikata, the "demonic vice-commander". the reason why i note this is because there are quite a lot of similarities between the two.
the thing with hijikata-> throughout both series, okita pokes fun at hijikata. in hakuoki, this manifests in the form of banter whereas in gintama, the "poking fun" is brought up to a whole 'nother level as okita (repeatedly, and unsuccessfully) tries to kill hijikata. either way, it provides a form of entertainment and in the case of hakuoki , provides some lightheartedness to the gravity of the game (can't say for the anime, cuz i haven't watched it). favourite, memorable, moments include:
the ishida medicinal powder thing
THE HAIKUS
when okita points out that chizuru was assigned to be an attendent to hijikata and okita is told to shut it (memory is a little iffy on that part, it was chapter 1-something)
(still can't format the fooking thing, i lied, i can't do it but this is numero 2) the sadistic side. in the game, okita's sadistic side is not so much sadistic in verbal terms as it is just bloodthirsty, self-depravating (in some instances) comments. same with his killing style, i feel (note: has been a very very long while since i completed this man's route so could be inaccurate) that he's not the sorta person that would slowly torture and kill someone (unless pushed over the edge which he is pre close to, admittedly) but rather would go with one slice/stab and get high in the rush of life.
the light brown hair (apologies, i forgot most of my arguments because I'm coming back to this after weeks. was supposed to end the year with this and now its march. )
snarky comments. a lot of snarky comments.
(oh god i want to play hakuoki again, it's been too long. but life. but hot anime men. will get back to this one.) here are just some hakuoki specific ones.
abs. (ik a lot of characters have shirtless cgs. i haven't seen okita's yet so i can't say ive seen them per se but he's a hot anime warrior dude- he has some)
the fact that he based his hairstyle on kondou (KYAAAA)
this is long enough as is tbh, and my brain hurts from too much science. but hey, i am able to proclaim my love for a psychotic-warrior-dude-based-on-a-now-dead-guy which kinda weirded me out when i first thought of it this way because then the question remains, do i simp for a dead guy or a reinterpretation of him? in that case, could i say that i am truly a devotee for the mans? (at the same time, i know people simp over irl serial criminals and george michael)
in the end, i will not pull a nick gatsby and wait for a long time for what was simply attraction to ideals to be reciprocated at all. although i suppose i am less pitiful, in that i am aware that it will never happen. now please excuse me as i still continue to stare into that green light and bask in the temporary happiness it may provide me
#hakuoki ramblings#i figured why not make this a tag#hakuoki#okita souji#i started uni#i love it but god do i hate physics#why did i take physics#i need to do my lit readings#lit is fun#may update more often idk idk
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Doctor Doctor
Summary: With a bullet in his arm, Bucky seeks medical attention and a certain surgeon catches his eye.
Warnings: non-con, gun play (gun fucking), biker!Bucky, minor descriptions of blood and bullet wounds.
Word Count: 3k
AN: This was written for the incredible and lovely @the-soulofdevil and her 500 follower writing challenge. Congrats gurl, I’m so proud. My prompt was a doctor au. Also, I’ve been watching wayyyyy to much Grey’s Anatomy, pls help me.
Squares Filled: Biker!AU & Knife/Gun play
My Masterlist
Exhaustion held your body captive as you dragged your feet, your eyes fluttering shut every few steps. Your entire body was sore, your neck cricked from looking down at the body on your operating table for so long and your hands were slightly cramping. The CABG surgery had taken far longer than you had expected, and now nothing was sounding better than going home, opening a bottle of sauvignon blanc and taking a long hot bath.
You eyes the door for the stairs disdainfully. Deep down you knew you should take them. The attendings lounge was only two floors up but you were dead tired so instead, you plodded along to the elevator, jabbing the up button. Looking back on it you really should have taken the stairs.
The elevator finally dinged on your floor, the doors opening slowly and without even looking, you jumped inside. You only noticed the other occupant after the doors had slid closed. He was tall, impressively built, and his eyes were a stunning shade of cerulean blue. You hated yourself for wondering briefly if he was here visiting a girlfriend.
However you could tell there was something off about him but, maybe that’s what attracted you. You had always had terrible taste in men. You could feel his body come closer, invading your personal space. A hand reached out to your name tag, his eyes flickering over it.
‘A surgeon huh? So I guess you know your way around the body.’
‘Excuse me?’ The words were barely out of your mouth before he reached into the waist bands of his jeans, pulling a gun from it with one hand, his other pressing the shutdown button on the elevator panel.
‘I need you to do me a favour Doc. I need you to get this bullet out of my arm.’ You stared down the barrel of his glock, your mouth going dry as he continued to speak. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to press the start button and then the elevator doors will open. You’ll take me somewhere private and you’ll quietly and stealthily get whatever you need to get the fuckin’ bullet out of me. If you even think about calling for help I will blow the brains out of whoever is around. Clear?’ Your heart thudded like a hummingbird’s wings and the turtleneck underneath your scrubs felt far too tight around your throat.
‘I said. Are we clear?’ He pressed the gun directly between your eyes, forcing the cool metal against your heated skin and you nodded.
‘Yes.’ You barely managed to squeak out your assent.
‘Sir.’ He added for emphasis.
‘Yes Sir. I understand.’
‘Good girl. Are you ready? And remember, if anyone dies, it’s your fault.’ You nodded once more and watched as he pressed the green start button, the elevator coming back to life. He stowed his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, sending you a look that clearly said he could whip it back out faster than you could scream. But his look was unneeded. You weren’t going to call for help. The people that worked at this hospital were like your family. There was no way you were going to risk any of their lives.
You lead him through various hallways, picking up an abandoned supply trolley as you went until you came across an empty patient room. You gestured for him to sit on the bed as you pulled on a gown and gloves before wheeling the stool over and sitting in front of him.
He grunted in pain as he pulled his leather jacket off, his t-shirt following soon after. Under normal circumstances you would have cut the material away but seeing him in pain gave you a sick sense of glee. But as you stared at his now bare chest, any sense of joy quickly seeped from you, dread taking its place. It shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was to see the pitch black ink staring back at you. He had waved a gun in your face for crying out loud. But still, seeing the dark outline of a wolf on his chest sent a chill through you. Of course this man was a White Wolf.
‘Scared of a little ink doc?’ The man before you teased a smirk taking over his plush pink lips.
‘Of course not Sir.’ You quipped back. It was only half a lie. You weren’t afraid of the tattoo itself, more of what it represented. You had seen far too many victims of the White Wolves over your time working at Seattle Grace Hospital. ‘I’m going to have to go in blind, I hope that’s okay as I assume you don’t want to be checked in?’ You asked even though you knew the answer you would get.
‘Obviously.’ His voice was a monotone as he rolled his eyes, your hands sweeping over the blood surrounding the torn skin. The bullet didn’t seem to be too deep which was lucky for him. It would make extraction a lot easier. Once the site was clean you pulled over the IV kit, standing to attach the morphine to the drip before picking up the needle and making for his other arm. ‘No.’ He yanked his arm out of your grip with such force that you stumbled.
‘Excuse me?’ You were confused as you sat back on the stool, the needle still in your hand.
‘No drugs. Just get it out now.’ He pulled the needle from you, chucking it across the room as he did so.
‘I’m sorry sir but I have to insist. The drugs will help you stay still through the pain as I extract the bullet.’ No matter how much his pain earlier had helped ease your own you weren’t a sadist.
‘I said no. I don’t want any drugs, I can handle the pain. Just get the fucking bullet out now.’ He growled and you submitted, scared that the commotion might attract unwanted visitors. Quickly you organised your tray and held the tweezers up to the bullet hole.
To your surprise, the man barely flinched as you pressed the metal against the tender flesh, searching for the bronze bullet that you could barely make out. You had expected him to yield, allowing you to administer the painkillers but he barely reacted, the occasional hiss or grunt escaping his lips was the only sign he felt anything.
Finally the bullet came free and there was a clink as you disposed of it in one of the metal bowls. Next you started working on patching him up. Some more blood had spilled from the wound as you had worked and he would definitely need stitches. As you worked you heard your parents voices echo around in your head, telling you horror stories of the White Wolves.
The gang had been haunting Seattle since the early forties and were often used as bedtime stories told to young children to make sure they didn’t stay out too late. While you had taken your parents warnings seriously growing up, you had always thought they exaggerated the cruelty of the gang. Working in the hospital had changed your mind. Their cruelty was unparalleled and perhaps if you weren’t so afraid of what they would do to your family you might have thought about “accidentally” clipping his axillary artery. He would be dead within minutes but you knew the other Wolves would come around sniffing for answers.
You struggled to keep your hands steady as you worked but finally you did the last stitch and bandaged his arm. ‘You’re going to have to wear a sling for next 4-6 weeks to make sure it heals properly and isn’t jolted around because you don’t want to be pulling your stitches. Also no strenuous exercise for at least two weeks and after then only light exercise such as going for a walk.’
‘What about fucking?’ Your lips parted involuntarily, shocked at how blatantly he had asked the question.
‘Erm, well that would count as strenuous exercise but after the two week mark perhaps depending on umm… on how you… on your chosen, erm, position then it should be okay.’ You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You talked about sex and other embarrassing topics all the time in post-care but something about the way his cerulean blue eyes were staring at you so intently had you stumbling over your words like a school girl.
‘Hmmm… that’s a shame. If I had known this morning was going to be the last time for a while I would have made it something special.’ He mused to himself, his eyes drifting over your dark blue scrubs as you pulled off the gloves and gown. ‘But since I’m here, you could always fix me back up if something happened. Couldn’t you doc?’
‘Excuse me?’ You asked in confusion, blood draining from your face as he got off the bed and began stalking towards you. You backed away quickly, your hands fumbling with the door as you tried to pull it open only to have his uninjured arm slam it back shut. He twisted your body around so your back was pressed against the wood, both his arms pinning you against the wall as he leaned in.
‘I think you heard me doc. The same warnings apply. Scream and I’ll kill anyone who walks through that door.’ His breath tasted like cigarettes and his body was hot and hard against you. When you gulped and finally managed a nod, he pulled you from the door, bringing you back over to the bed, forcing you to lean over it.
He pressed his growing bulge against your ass as he pulled your scrub top over your head, the pale blue turtleneck and your bra following soon after. You squirmed in his arms but despite his injury his grip was steel tight. He groaned against the shell of your ear as he palmed your breasts, kneading them until your nipples began to harden. His breath was hot and heavy against the skin of your neck as his hands moved lower, down to the waistband of your scrubs. He slipped one hand in underneath your panties and groaned out.
‘Oh Doc, you’re already so wet for me.’ He breathed out and you shuddered against him, trying to squeeze your legs together as tightly as you could. He tutted you, pinching your ass through the scrubs. ‘Behave. You don’t want to know what happens to bad girls.’ You choked back your sob as you nodded and allowed him to push you back against the bed, Your chest resting on the cold sheets. He slipped your scrubs down your legs and continued to play with your clit, rubbing it harshly as you tried to force your body not to react. One hand grabbed both your wrists, pinning them both at the small of your back as he moved.
‘One thing I’ve learnt from girls like you is that you always need something inside of you to feel full don’t you?’ You felt him shift behind you and then suddenly something very cold brushed against your thigh. You struggled in his hold even harder, thrashing your body around the cool metal brushed against your heated lips. You didn’t have to see it to know what it was.
He swirled the barrel around, coating it in the slick that had involuntarily pooled along your lips. ‘No. No! Stop it! Get off of me.’ You tried to buck him off but his grip remained like iron, holding you down against the mattress with one hand as the other eased the barrel inside of you. You thrashed wildly as the cool metal juxtaposed the heat between your legs causing an odd sensation to form.
You hated the way the edges of the gun moved against your walls, making you feel every tiny ridge in the metal. You hated the way your body was responding to it even more.
You barely managed to hold back your moans as his pace picked up, becoming unrelenting. The urge to roll your hips back onto him had you shuddering with disgust. Your body shouldn’t be responding like this, it shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as it was. But you couldn’t help it anymore, not when he called you his good girl. Praising you for taking his gun so well.
The moans started tumbling from your lips and soon enough the coil in your belly had snapped and you pulsated in his arms. Your body convulsed as he slowly edged you down from your high.
‘See? That wasn’t so bad. I’ve always wanted to have a cunt on the end of my gun.’ You shivered at his words, your senses slowly coming back to you. ‘Here, taste yourself.’ He forced the metal by your face and you wanted to shrink away in disgust, yet the tone of his voice told you that wasn’t an option. Hesitantly, you moved your head towards it, licking a small stripe along the side, praying that was enough to satisfy him. ‘Not like that. Suck it like it's my cock.’ You shuddered and cringing inside, you angled your head to take it like he wanted, terrified that his finger would slip on the trigger.
You forced yourself to slowly bob your head going up and down the gun’s length, his groans echoing in the room as he rubbed himself against you in time with your movements. Suddenly, the gun was gone and you heard the tell-tale clink of his buckle, the fly of his zipper following.
‘Please you don’t have to do this. I won’t tell anyone, please.’ You could no longer hold back the tears and they fell onto the mattress beneath you, darkening the white sheets.
‘I’m sorry Sweetheart, but that’s just not how the White Wolves work. You see, when we see something we want... ’ his face dipped down next to your ear as he whispered into it, ‘we take it.’ And with that he entered you with one long thrust. You cried out at the intrusion. Although you were shamefully wet, you hadn’t been prepared for the sheer size of him. ‘Oh fuck doc. Your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight.’
There was no gradual build up. Just straight hard fucking. His balls slapped against your ass as he rutted into you, his pace unforgiving. You screamed out underneath him as you felt one hand wrap around your thigh, circling your already sensitive clit. ‘That’s it sweetheart. That’s such a good girl.’ You moaned as his deep sensual voice penetrated your ears.
You felt his grip on your hands loosen before it wrapped around your throat, pulling you up against his chest. He felt even deeper like this and your tears ran down your cheeks freely. You hated how every stroke of his cock made you shudder in the best way possible.
Your hands clutched at his around your throat as black dots started to appear in your vision. Between how breathless you were from the fucking and the crying, it was no surprise that you were struggling to breathe.
‘C'mon sweetheart. Scream my name for me. Let everyone know who’s fucking this pussy so right.’ He didn’t seem to care that you could barely breathe or that he hadn’t even bothered to give you his name so you choked a meager Sir. He seemed to realise his mistake as he grunted his name into your ear.
‘Bucky….’ Your voice was hoarse.
‘Louder.’ He growled and you repeated yourself. ‘Louder baby, louder.’
With air you didn’t know you had, you screamed his name for him, the waves of pleasure crashing inside of you reaching their peaks as you did. He groaned into your ear as he kept rutting, riding you out through your orgasm as your body collapsed back on the bed. He thrusted a few more times before hastily pulling out, his seed dripping down onto your ass as he moaned unashamedly.
‘Well fuck doc. How was that for strenuous activity?’ You couldn’t respond as he laughed, fabric rustling in the background as he dressed. ‘Didn’t even pull any stitches either.’ He mused to himself and you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Shame washed over you like a tidal wave, pinning you in place.
You saw him walk around the bed, kneeling down as he came into view. ‘Get dressed.’ His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, but still, you didn't move. ‘Fine. Stay like that and let the next guy who walks in see your wrecked cunt. Like I give a shit.’ It was only at his brusque words and the reminder that this is in fact your workplace that you finally stood sorely. Your hands reached up to brush away the tears on your cheeks and you see him fiddling with your phone that had been in your pants pockets as you dress.
‘What are you doing?’ You barely manage to get the words out.
‘Just getting your number. You never know when having a doctor on call will be handy in my line of work.’ You tried to hide your scoff and failed.
‘Your line of work? You mean terrorising the streets of Seattle.’ You have no idea where this fire has come from and if you knew better you would have definitely kept your mouth shut.
‘No, I mean running a multi-million dollar enterprise.’ You gulp, swallowing thicky as he stands his chest nearly touching yours.
‘Running?’ You question, even though you’re not sure you quite want his answer.
‘Yeah sweetheart. Running.’ His hands lift up and he slides your phone back into your chest pocket. And with a wink sent your way he slips out from the room, leaving you with a sense of dread for the next time your phone will ring.
+
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My Masterlist
#thesoulofdevilchallenge#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#the winter soldier#bucky x you#bucky/reader#biker!bucky#gang!bucky#hospital au
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✨Lie down darling, it's time for a dream✨
Stuffed (incubus!nishinoya x reader x priest!asahi)
Okay so for the longest time i didn't know what to write for them but after listening to three yagami yato audios back to back I realized Im a sinner..so yeah have this
This story contains: nasty unprotected sex, Double penetration, aheago, feral nishinoya, breeding kink,asahi losing his shit during sex, asahi calls you mommy a few times, light degrading, preluding to semnophilia
As much as I adore male reader cause I'm a boy but, this will be a female reader worry not I'll be spamming out some male reader stuff after this for a bit
"father, I have done a terrible thing.. something horrible"
The sound of your voice from the other side of the confessional made asahi twitch slightly before he calmly leaned back to listen to you. You were innocent, sweet and pure but lately he's noticed changes that worried him greatly, your clothes that usually were modest now revealed a teasing amount of your thighs or chest so of course when he heard your words he was alert yet calm..just what did you do?
"this is a judgement free zone, speak your mind"
"I've let a sinful demon tempt me.."
You what?
Hearing your words made the priest grip the white beaded cross necklace hanging around his neck as his mind started to get foggy at the thought of a demon hurting you in any way, you were too sweet and adorable for this!
"tell me, what has this demon done to you? Has he hurt you?"
Asahi's voice was laced with worry that quickly turned into fear when he heard a small embarrassed whimper from the other side. After a few seconds he heard your quivering voice
"E-Every night the demon comes into my window, he touches me in ways that I've never been touched, every night he-"
"has he fucked you? Does he fill you up? have you kissed him?"
Asahi spoke in a low tone with a shaky breath. He should feel worry for you but instead a feeling of pure jealousy burned through him, the thought of someone seeing your face twist with pleasure or the thought of someone kissing your soft skin while pounding you made him see red.
"yes father, am i too late to be saved?"
Your soft helpless tone made asahi shudder as his mind drifted to unholy thoughts. How would you look sucking him off? What face would you make when he eats you out til you are shaking? How would you taste against his tongue?
"father asahi?"
"ah you're not! Its never too late to be saved! You said it comes every night? How about I spend the night in your home so when the demon comes I'll deal with it"
His plan made you smile brightly before you let out a joyful giggle. You couldn't help but sound so cute as you thanked him before leaving the wooden box.
So day soon turns to night, asahi laid on your couch asleep before a creaking sound stirred him awake. He checked the time only to see that it was two in the morning, the male let's out a low sigh as he stretched before going to your room to check on you only to hear sounds of a creaking bed along with voices.
"oooh [y/n] your nipples are so hard and perked for me, hehehe do you like it when I flick them like this?
Asahi couldn't recognize that voice so he softly opened the door and peeked inside only to see you tied with your hands above your head and your clothes completely ripped off with an incubus straddling your hips. Asahi should burst in there, he should be slamming the door open and throwing that demon off you but he couldnt help but watch as this demon leaned his head down to lick and suck your nipples
"n-nishinoya-"
"this is the first time you called out to me like that..do it again"
So the demon's name was nishinoya? Why did you know that? How did you know that? Asahi was curious about such details but his mind blanked when he heard a loud whimper escape your lips, when he turned his attention back to you the demon in question has his face shoved in between your legs licking and sucking at your clit as if his life depended on it.
Asahi felt his cock twitch in his pants as your lewd moans ringed through his ears. His entire body started to shake as he bit his bottom lip roughly. He wanted to be the one to make you moan like that, he wanted to be the one making you screaming his name.
Just as asahi was going to burst in he watched as the demon pull back and both his and asahi's eyes locked before nishinoya gave a sly smirk while licking his lips.
"her pussy tastes like whip cream, so sweet and yummy so why don't you come and get a taste instead of watching like a pervert or are all preists this sinful?"
Asahi tensed up at his remark before standing up straight before opening the door and closing it behind him. His eyes travelled to you who couodnt even look him in the eyes.
"f-fathe-"
Nishinoya shoved his demon tail down your throat with a light shudder. He gazed at you with a sadistic gleam before a sly smile was on his face.
"hush babe, the grown up are talking so just be a good girl and suck on my tail like it's a nice juicy cock okay? If you promise not to bite I'll fuck you extra hard tonight"
His words shook both you and asahi but you did as he said and started to suck his tail which filled your mouth nicely while nishinoya tried not to shudder and show just how good that felt.
"d-demon! I've come to exorcise you! P-prepare to go back to hell where you belong!"
"funny how you say that but where's your Bible? Your holy water? Holy items? not even a single talisman..all you brought is a big bulge so let's just be honest here hmm?"
Asahi felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he glanced down only to see that he was fully hard, he took a step forward his mind clouding with lust as he watched you suck and moan against that filthy demon's tail.
"A-as a priest I'm supposed to take you down, I'll warn you once to release her from your captivity and surrender"
Asahi's shaky words were met with nishinoya letting out a loud chuckle before his eyes travelled to you before he reached our and trailed his finger along your drenched slit which made you shudder with bliss before he decided to stick two fingers inside your sopping wet hole.
"listen here, father she let's me do this cause she wants to, hell she would die without my cock stretching her wall each night. Ive cummed inside her so much It would be no surprise if she was pregnant"
His words made your walls clench around his fingers which cause the male to release a low growl, he definitely needed to fuck you soon or else he was gonna lose his mind.
"Ooh she likes to think of being pregnant, how about instead of trying to fight let's share this night hmm? Come onnn look at her she's just begging for a cock to fuck her so two would drive her absolutely insane. Give into your urges"
Asahi didn't know if it was demonic magic or his mind just snapping but before he knew it he was stripping down while walking towards you and nishinoya. His eyes were clouding with lust as he left himself in only his boxers
Nishinoya licked his lips before simply took his tail out your mouth before feeling you of your binds. You sat up now looking at the two men with a look of worry, you could barley take nishinoya and his thick cock but now two of them?
"alright pretty girl! Here's what's gonna happen, me and Mr holy over here are gonna fuck your brains out until the smell of cock and cum become your natural scent okay? Okay!"
Nishinoya and his cheerful tone made you shiver as you watched his tail wag side to side like he was some excited puppy. Asahi looked confused on what to do so he gave nishinoya a panicked gaze which made the demon burst out laughing
"are you a virgin?! Pfffft! Hahahah! Oh my! Okay, I'll tell you what to do only cause you look so cute! Lay down on the bed and princess here will get on top"
Just explaining what will happen made asahi blush before he gulped harshly and did as he was told. What was this going to feel like? He wasn't sure but he knew it would be better than touch himself in the late hours of the night.
"n-nishinoya I don't know about this, I mean-" you were cut off by the demon's loud whistling as he yanked asahi's boxers down only to see his çock spring up.
"talk about a long boy! Sorry I got you beat in girth though, but I guess it's not bad right princess?"
Nishinoya turned to you who was just staring with a look drowning with lust. Nishinoya knew that look on your face and moved to you only to lick the drool dribbling down your chin
"now now you hungry slut, you can choke on his cock next round but for now let's fuck that cute pussy to oblivion"
His words made you whine before he gave your ass a hard slap before pointing to a nervous looking asahi
"now, hands and knees above him don't you dare put him in you without me saying so, or else I'll have to break you even more than I already am about to"
Nishinoya watched as you crawled into of asahi before shakily looking down at him. You've had sex many many times next to nishinoya but also fucking asahi scared you since he was your priest.
"so fragile, you're shaking lets not be scared alright?"
Asahi's soft words made you melt as you felt him reach up to touch your cheek. You leaned down and gave him a soft kiss only to moan harshly against his lips as something thick slammed into you. With a shaky breath you pulled away only to glance back to see nishinoya on his knees behind you with a fake innocent grin.
"oops- sorry did I ruin your moment?"
Asahi looked at your face only to feel something snap in his mind, the way your face became flushed and your eyes tightly closed made him shudder before his body moved on its own. He wrapped his arms around you before pulling you against his chest only to shove himself inside you along with nishinoya.
You let out a loud shocked gasp our reaction was nothing compared to asahi who was gritting his teeth with eyes rolling back slightly, how could someone be so tight?!
"feels good huh? Oh this is nothing..come now father, can you really not move? Well if you're not gonna move I will"
Nishinoya started to thrust roughly in and out of you with a shaky sigh as he felt his and asahi's cock rubbing against each other, not only that but you were clenching so tight that he could swear he could see stars.
"ngh- demon.. you're rubbing against me like that"
Asahi's choked words were followed by his thrusts, he wasn't as rough as nishinoya but he was thrusting quite fast. he just couldn't stop his body from thrusting up against you over and over again. You both were slowing becoming a mess, drooling and whining came from you both as you two locked eyes
"[y/n]! So tight! Your pussy is so tight and wet I just can't take it! Do you hear it? That wet sound? Ahh it's so lewd! This is so lewd! [Y/n]! I cant stop- don't make me stop please please please!"
Asahi was losing his mind while he slammed his hips wildly and to make it worse this chaotic energy was only riling nishinoya up to the point where he was a snarling mess now digging his nails Into your hips while slamming in and out of you
"fuck! You are so good! Such a good girl..the way your pussy is miking me, beg for me princess beg for my demon seed come now beg for it already or I'll fucking stop"
The utter thought of stopping made you whine louder than you already were and you wiggled your hips desperately like a bitch in heat
"please! Noya! Asahi! Fuck me more! Ahh- please please! Breed me so good!"
Just like that your words caused the two men to lose their sanity even more. Asahi was in tears as he rapidly thrusts in and out of you like a rabbit now having breeding on his mind. He forced you to look at him as he gave you a sloppy messy kiss that left saliva on you both
"m-my baby! Have my baby! My baby mine not that demon's but mine! Ahh- please [y/n]! Bear my children!"
His whining sobbing pleas seemed to annoy nishinoya who pulled you back against him while his hand gripped your throat. He thrusted deep inside you while licking your neck along with biting at it.
"his baby? Fuck no. Have mine. My demon spawn would look so cute growing in your tummy, fuck princess it's gonna be me who gets your pregnant okay?"
Your mind was starting to go blank as your climax was coming close and just as you were were gonna turn to kiss nishinoya you felt hands cupping your breasts. You turn to face asahi who now sat up to hold you as well his mouth drooling and slobbering all over your breasts as he felt close. His hair was a mess but the look in his eyes was that of a desperate needy man losing his mind.
"be the mommy to my baby, you right that right? Mommy..please please please! Ah I can't wait to see your breasts swell with milk so please..ah! Please I'm gonna cum!"
His loud whines and use of the word mommy did something to you that you didn't know could happen to you but you felt your climax building up but before you can announce it nishinoya simply grunted lowly in your ear as his grip around your throat tightened.
"I can feel it, cum already cum around our cocks like I know you want to, you want us to fill up your needy pussy, you're so desperate for cum that your drooling and sticking your tongue out like a bitch so cum already"
His harsh words were the last thing you needed before your walls tightened and you climaxed with a loud screaming moan.
"yes, yes yes yes yes! [Y/n]! Yes! It feels..so good!"
"hah- ah, damn priest you moan like a little whore..it's so fucking hot!"
As the two cummed inside you at the same time you felt your mind breaking and it left you twitching and shaking in their arms.
When you three laid down on the bed nishinoya glanced at you and asahi who were both making such a lewd face that his cock twitched. He honestly wasn't even close to being finished but it seems that humans get tired so he was greatly annoyed to see you both start to fall asleep.
Nishinoya sighs as a smile graced his face before he cracked his neck while hovering over you and asahi's cuddling bodies.
"sorry sweeties I'm not done yet, but don't worry you can enjoy your nap"
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A Drop of Heaven III: Broken Skin (M)
[Series Masterlist]
Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader
Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?
Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)
Warnings in this chapter: blood drinking, soft!Seokjin, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts (gets a little dark), graphic violence, Yoongi being abusive and sadistic, dom!Yoongi, rough unprotected sex, BDSM I guess?, spanking, biting, choking, hair pulling, feeding during sex, degradation, ass job, hate sex, own cum consumption
Word count: 11.4k
A/N: I do not condone Yoongi’s behaviour at all, it is horrible and not intended to be romanticised!! He is obviously a vampire so violence is a habit built from centuries, but it’s also still not okay. And everything that happens is consensual. I’m honestly so scared that this is too much but I might just be overreacting. I hope you like this update because there were parts that were so difficult for me to write. :(
[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]
❦
Kissing Seokjin feels like sinking into a cloud after plummeting from the heavens, soft, cold, delicate. You don’t think you’d truly realised how plump his lips are until they are on yours, catching your every breath. You sense his initial shock, feel the fumes of confusion swirling in his chest. Because still, you haven’t stopped feeling, just feeling, him.
His body is tense at first, unmoving. Yet his lips contradict its language by slowly moving around yours, the motion so natural, so fluid, that it doesn’t feel like the first time you’re kissing.
Despite the coolness of his skin, all you feel is a warmth enshrouding your every sense, but mostly your heart. The sire bond doesn’t stop forming, building brick by brick between your souls like a bridge crossing the vast ocean. You see him on the other side, so far, yet so clearly. You’re walking towards each other, no, maybe even running. Full speed.
And then you collide.
And coalesce into one entity.
You don’t register it until your leg has swung around him and he has pulled you onto his lap, hands so gentle that you wonder if you’re imagining his touch. There isn’t a single thought in your brain right now, just a humming, faint colours swimming.
Every single movement is slow, heavy, as if you’re underwater and a pressure is resisting you, but pleasantly so because it makes every movement feel more impactful. Your eyes flicker open just a moment to confirm that this isn’t a dream, and you’re met with such dazzling beauty that makes you question your reality more.
This doesn’t feel real.
Yet at the same time, you’ve never felt anything more real.
Especially as your hands travel to his face, cupping his smooth cheeks, fingers gripping onto him so not to get washed away by the current. Every time you touch, you melt into him.
Not to mention all his sensations overwhelming yours, the way you feel his turmoil at his own conflicting emotions for you. How he cares deeply for you already, wishing just to be close to you in any shape or form because he craves the humanness of love. Yet also how he knows that love, be it platonic or romantic, has long since been vetoed as an option in his life, and given your dynamic, will never not crumble.
Seokjin shudders under your caress, as if he also cannot believe this is true. His hands sliding up your legs on their own accord, not greedily, but not of innocence either.
Then he’s guiding you onto your back and up the bed until your head meets the plush of your pillow, tongue rolling over yours like evening waves. Neither of you think to stop, take a breath, assess the situation. Because the bond between you doesn’t allow you to do anything except be together.
But when his fingers reach up your top, he freezes. Rather than your skin that he was expecting, is the rough lace of the bodysuit you are wearing.
You had both forgotten about that amidst all this. And suddenly, the few minutes before where he had entered the room to the sight of you trying on this raunchy undergarment feels like an eon ago.
His eyes lock onto yours, fingers stroking the patterned material as he softly asks, “Can I?”
“Yes,” you sigh into him, “please.”
Heartbeat unsteady but strong, you feel your whole body tremble under him as he smoothly slides your cotton joggers down to reveal your bare thighs. And when you pull your sweatshirt over your head too, Seokjin thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.
His insides feel warm from the feeding of your blood, but his groin feels even warmer. He doesn’t think he has ever experienced such a strong physical desire for any of his Feeds in the past. Never anything so potent, compelling. He feels as though he is flotsam, swept away by the ocean into the depths of you.
You look up at him, eyes wide with a confounding innocence that you somehow have maintained throughout the affliction you’ve endured. The thin white material of the lingerie hugs your body so dearly, the floral lace like grapevines across your torso and up to your breasts. The sheer mesh does little to hide the colouration of your nipples. Seokjin feels his bulge growing painfully.
Your hand droops down his front, an action of harmless intent, yet sets fire to his gut. He falls back into you, mouth finding yours as his fingers dart up your legs, marvelling at your soft spotless skin, the same skin that used to be painted with scars and bruises and cuts that dig deeper than flesh, but have miraculously been wiped clean. It had felt like a rebirth.
It is evident from his hesitant touch how nervous he is, his throat quivering. It has been so long since he has remotely felt so alive; it moves him beyond his comprehension.
And it is as if you can sense that he wants you to do so, you break the kiss to flip him around so you are straddling him once again. From the way you sat over his crotch, dressed like a doll in white, Seokjin knows that he’ll come undone under you.
Rather than sealing his lips again, you just watch him for a moment, chest rising from the fervour. Your thumb traces his forehead down to his chin, then brush the corner of his mouth. His eyes fall shut, quaking under your touch, trying to calm the storm in his mind.
Then it darts down his chest like a little mouse to palm his arousal over his slacks. Seokjin gasps, a sound that you enjoy too much. He feels hefty in your hands, already, throbbing at the friction you rub. Your core is blazing at his reaction, his whimpers.
But then, in a flash, he sits up and holds up a finger for you to stop, eyes that are trained on the door shifting immediately. “Wait here.” is all he says before he zooms out from beneath you and through the door that joins your room to his.
You don’t even have time to register that he’s gone until you’re plopped onto the mattress, alone.
What?
Sense is slowly starting to ebb back into you. Had you done something wrong? Wait, well of course, you hadn’t even asked his permission to kiss him. But that doesn’t explain why he had asked you to wait before leaving so hurriedly. This scene reminds you of…
And lo and behold, as you creep up to the door to his room, you hear someone knock. Your attention quickly turns to the second door that opens to the hallway, but you realise that the sound was too muffled for it to be coming from there. No, someone knocked on Seokjin’s bedroom door.
Ears straining to listen as you press the side of your face against the wood, you hear powerful steps enter the room.
“Good night. What can I help you with? Why do you look so troubled, Namjoon?” Although the words are barely audible, his name rings sonically into you. A strange yet familiar rope tugs on your soul.
You think you hear him sigh, and you can imagine exactly the frustrated frown he must be plagued with. “I… I don’t even know how to begin to talk about it, hyung. You know what I’m like… with words…”
“Yes, of course.” It could be your imagination but there is still the smallest hitch to Seokjin’s breath, yet to his credit, he is hiding it well. “Your debility in expressing your true feelings is second to Yoongi. What’s the matter?”
“Have you felt it yet?”
A pause.
“Felt what?”
“The bond.” Namjoon’s voice is a husky rasp.
You tense because it almost sounds as though it pains him. Unconsciously, your hand grips at your chest, the memory of its violent cinching when your soul was first tethered to his haunting you.
“Th- Why…?” Seokjin sounds as though he’s been asked a deeply personal question. You suppose it is.
“Hell, it’s so- so intense this time. In our centuries, I don’t think any Feed bond has ever been this powerful. When I fed on her yesterday, it felt like we were physically bound together, like the Gods tied us together and I couldn’t walk away from her no matter how much I struggled. I didn’t feel myself, I felt so… human.”
Your blood freezes. You hadn’t known, or even considered, how the sire bond must have felt for him. Do vampires feel everything more heightened due to their superior senses? Or less because they have been numbed over time? That bond with Namjoon felt vastly different from Seokjin. It’s true what he said, it was like your souls were bound by rope. Supernaturally unbreakable rope. And though the initial impact has eventually worn off, everytime your mind lingered a second too long in the thoughts of him, you felt its reminder tugging at your core again.
“I…” Seokjin seems slightly dumbfounded. Whether it’s because he finds himself relating so much to that feeling, or because he’s surprised it had been that strong for his brother too. “Maybe it’s because we haven’t tasted angel blood in too long; it has always driven us a little wild in the past, this time only exacerbated by how much we’ve missed it.”
“Possibly… But, I mean, I really wasn’t myself. I k- I lost control. I felt things, emotions that I can’t make sense of. I can’t even begin to describe them to you.”
“You mean, you felt affection for the girl?”
Silence. You hear your own heartbeat.
Affection?
There was a longing in the way Namjoon had kissed you, like all the anger and frustration you had riled up in him had somehow melted into a flood of desire. And you, yourself. Something had felt warm, pleasant, in your core. You hadn’t wanted him to stop, not even an inkling.
Such contrast to the spiteful words you had been throwing at each other only a minute before he fed on you.
It’s definitely the bond.
“Affect- No- Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you say that?” Namjoon splutters. You can imagine his cheeks staining in colour.
“Namjoon. I know you like to distance yourself from your Feeds, maintain a dynamic in which you always view them as your prey. But you are allowed to grow fond of her. It’s happened to us all before.” There’s a resignation in Seokjin’s tone, like this is a conversation that has been had many times before.
“I’m not growing fond of her! It’s the bond, it’s overriding my sense.”
“Namjoon-ah.” He sighs, exasperation crisp in his muffled voice. “Yes, it is all very much the effects of the sire bond. But you know that the bond manifests in such that reflects on the vampire right? Its shape and form, its intensity, its hold over you. It tells you more about yourself than you’re willing to admit.”
You perk up straight. You don’t think you want to continue listening. You don’t think you want to face the knowledge of what this magic means; it would elicit too many unwanted thoughts, confusion, dilemmas. You don’t want it. You don’t want to think about the deeper reflection of Namjoon’s feelings, and yours too.
So, stealthily, you sneak back onto the bed in your best efforts not to make a sound that would announce your eavesdropping to the vampires next door.
Sat near the edge of the bed, you stare at your wrist, at the fresh wounds that Seokjin’s fang had punctured. It’s starting to hurt now, as you stray away from the state of euphoria that came with the settling of the bond between you. You hadn’t noticed before when you were kissing him, but your hand is slathered with dried crusted blood.
You pick at it. Even licking it to see if your blood truly tastes that divine. It tastes metallic all the same.
Don’t think about the magic. Don’t think about Namjoon. Don’t even think about Seokjin. Just stop thinking for a second. Stop questioning. Stop wondering. Stop before you go crazy.
Thus you sit there blankly until Seokjin finally raps softly at the door after his conversation.
“Come in.” You remember you don’t need to speak up for him to hear you - he’s got vampire hearing.
Visible bother is worn on his expression as he enters. He gazes at you differently now. And once again, it’s like you’ve both awoken from a trance. No longer leaping into each other. The realisation sits bitterly in your stomach.
It wasn’t real, was it?
“Let me heal you first.” It’s the gentleness in his voice that make you sad.
And so you obediently lap up the rich scarlet liquid oozing out of his own wrist. You try to ignore how its taste threatens to tip you over and fall back into him again. You try to ignore that warm embrace you feel around your heart.
Is any of it real?
Soon, the two holes disappear along with the growing sting of your raw flesh. As good as new.
You refuse to look at each other at first, as you put on your clothes to conceal your suddenly very self conscious body and he fiddles with the embroidered collar of his shirt. This isn’t regret, but there might possibly a drop of shame, at what you had been doing.
“Um… That was Namjoon…” Whether or not he knows that you were eavesdropping, he doesn’t show.
“Oh.” You simply utter.
The tension is a tangible thing between you. The residual buzz from the bond is still present, tingling under your skins. If you focus hard enough, you can just about hear whispers of his emotions, but only barely.
After a silence that pains you both to be a part of, Seokjin clears his throat. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of the kind of person I am. I’m not usually… The sire bond that fixes between a vampire and an angel has never been very well understood in my time no matter the research I’ve done. It’s guarded not only by witch magic and demonic powers, but also celestial strength of the heavens. It… warps the mind and senses.”
It’s a factual statement, yet you feel many underlying implications. It warps the mind and senses. As in what you did wasn’t really of your own wills, is that what he means? It stings, because it had felt so real. It was real. For you anyway.
“But…”
He realises your interpretation, and his eyes soften. “It’s complicated, the paradox of reality. I don’t wish to offend you in any way. I… care about you. I don’t wish to confuse you. So, it’s best if… it doesn’t happen again. For our own sake.”
He’s right, you know. But it feels bitter. Because just as you begin to taste a sweet thing in your mouth, just as you feel yourself healing through a person, it all just vaporises. But there’s no way of knowing if that was all just a trick of the mind anyway.
Or maybe Seokjin’s withdrawal is because of Namjoon. There’s too much confusion, muddle of emotions and incomprehensible feelings. And the more you try to wrap your head around his words that you overheard, the more you find yourself falling into a vortex of unknown.
It’s best not to start down an uncertain path, than realising too late that you’re falling off a cliff’s edge.
You had hope in Seokjin, that you could be close, because he holds that normalcy that you crave amidst this chaos. Could you still be friends? From the way you’re avoiding each other’s eye, you’re not sure.
“I understand.” You stare at a fleck of blood on your hand.
.
You’re staring at your pristine, spotless hands, folded around each other atop your lap. Sitting in the middle of the mattress’ end.
Waiting. Trembling.
It’s Wednesday.
The very day you’ve dreaded the most since learning about the vampire who you’ll be sired to today. The vampire who will enjoy inflicting pain onto you. The vampire who hasn’t a single drop of empathy left in him.
Yoongi.
You’re not unaccustomed to men with power complexes who like to seek validation from harming those weaker than he is. So you’re not sure why you’re scared right now. You should be immune to such fears at this point, but you guess it’s the little human instinct left in you that’s invoking it.
Your life hadn’t always been a saga of continuous abuse; you were a normal teenager once, with a loving family, many friends, a regular content life. But one stroke of bad luck, one tragedy, and your cloudless blue sky was ripped apart. It was a stormy Friday night, you suppose that was your first foreboding from the gods. You had begrudgingly agreed to stay in because your parents were adamant that you shouldn’t go to that Minho’s party again after they heard that he dealt weed to everyone. Still, you had snuck out with the help of your then boyfriend without a single ounce of guilt and scurried off together to Minho’s. Your parents didn’t usually check up on you, so when you had received a furious phone call from your father a little past midnight, you were shocked. Oh fuck, you remember thinking, accompanied by that distinctly horrid heart-sinking feeling.
There wasn’t much you could say to persuade them not to come pick you up right that instant, even as you begged them with tears of humiliation as your peers looked at you in pity, you knew their mind was set. And though it wasn’t very justified at all, you had felt a surge of anger towards them. Resentment.
You had slammed the car door particularly hard when you entered the vehicle, your boyfriend’s worried expression in the corner of your eye as you couldn’t bare looking at him. “Y/N. You lied to us.” You stayed silent. “We asked one thing from you, and that was to stay away from Minho, and you couldn’t do that.” “Minho is my friend!” “Minho is a bad influence!” “I don’t even smoke weed! Have you ever seen me high? No. Do I smell like weed right now? No. Why do you want to control me so badly?” “We weren’t banning you from all parties, it was just this one party. And you couldn’t do that for us.” The disappointment in their calm voices riled you up even more. “And why not? Why can’t I go to this one party if I wanted to? Everyone went to this party tonight, everyone. Did any of their parents stop them? No. Because none of them are as controlling as you!” “Because none of them know about the weed!” “Oh next thing I know, you’ll be saying that my boyfriend is a bad influence too and that I can’t date him anymore.” “You know what, that’s true.” “Oh, For God’s sake! you guys are so annoying. Why do you have to be like this?”
Every time you think back to that argument you had in the car, your nails dig into your fists. If only you had just shut up. If only you had just accepted that you were in the wrong. It was just one party, one stupid fucking party, that means so little in the grand scheme of your life.
“Y/N, mind the way you’re speaking to your parents.”
It had started pouring down heavily on the drive back home. You couldn’t even look out the window because everything was a rain-blurred mosaic. The windshield wipers were wiping vigorously, that unbearably annoying sound now forever etched in your mind in this memory.
“I can speak however I want to.” You watched the digital clock on the screen of the car switch to 01:01. “You guys are the worst parents in the world. I wish I wasn’t your daughter. I wish-”
In movies, car crashes happen in slow motion; the audience sees the shock register in the driver’s face, then watch the whole vehicle flip in 0.5x speed. In real life, all you feel is a violent collision, a loud ringing, a flash of light, all in a split second. Then everything is black.
01:01.
You had still been staring at the time. It was the last thing you saw before your world was torn into shreds.
You had barely made it, by the miracle, or perhaps more accurately punishment of God. You were unconscious for 72 hours after the crash; you parents were unconscious forever. They gave it a day before they broke the news to you.
You had cried until you fainted again and woke up another 20 hours later.
It took months for your injuries to heal, during which you had all day and night to replay that last scene in the car over and over again in your head. Those words you said to them before they died.
Your elderly grandmother who was living with you and your 2-month old sister at the time took the burden of the family. She hadn’t scolded you, blamed you, nor resented you. She just came to the hospital every day with warm porridge and soup and your sister carried on her crooked back, smiled at you and told you to keep fighting.
You didn’t have many relatives; your father was estranged from his family, while your mother only had your grandmother and your uncle. Your uncle was a kind, supportive figure once. But you could tell he didn’t see you the same way after the accident everyone knew you’d caused. You didn’t blame him, you hated yourself too. Still, he moved in to help your elderly grandmother; babies are a lot to handle after all, especially for those who can’t even walk up the stairs without wincing. Your uncle became the breadwinner of the family, working hard every day to pay for your medical bills. You had admired him once, had been so tremendously grateful.
But then your grandmother died.
Heart attack due to stress, fatigue and exhaustion. It was the day before you were set to be released from the hospital.
Everything fell apart. It was like a switch was flipped because all of a sudden there was hatred in your uncle’s eyes every time you saw him look at you, something that burned so deep that it didn’t feel human. It was a demonic sort of evil that emitted from his gaze. Alcohol was his remedy for his sorrows, you were his relief.
The first time he hit you felt like you deserved it. The second time, maybe fair enough. But by the fiftieth time, it felt like it had evolved into something of a habit. It became a spiral of abuse, he became less and less human, more and more a senseless drunk monster. There was a basement where you were locked in as he insisted it was the only way to keep you from causing another tragedy in his life; you weren’t permitted to leave the house, you couldn’t and it wasn’t to do with a lack of trying. Sometimes you were fed and watered, if he was in a good mood. Sometimes your face was burned on the stove if you tried to dispute.
And for a while, you’d found some sort of excuse, justification for him. You killed your parents, his sister. You killed his mother. They had all died in consequence of one bad, selfish decision you’d made. But as the abuse worsened, it became more apparent that he enjoyed watching you bleed, he enjoyed painting your skin with bruises and burns and cuts. In a sick twisted perversion. None of it should be excused or justified.
Your sister grew up in a house of violence, watching your torment in her big round eyes, not uttering a peep. On her second birthday, you had given her a stuffed bear that you found in the basement. She smiled so widely and hugged it so tight to her chest. And you remembered why you were staying alive.
Escape was never an option - your leg, broken from the accident, was never allowed to heal properly before it became your uncle’s favourite batting post. Suicide - you’d thought about for a very very long time, every morning, every night, every waking breath. But if you were to kill yourself, you would have had to kill your sister too. And you couldn’t, you just couldn’t. One evening, while she was asleep, you had held a pillow over her head, centimeters away from suffocating her. But then your uncontrollable sobs woke her up, and she asked in her small innocent voice, “What are you doing? Why are you crying? Did he hurt you again?”
You couldn’t do it.
And so you endured years of being a prisoner of a mad man. Waiting for your deaths. Physical pain became tolerable when you learnt to shut off your mind, transport your consciousness to elsewhere. If you didn’t think about how he was kicking your head, you wouldn’t notice your skull cracking open.
It was only when your uncle realised your attachment to your sister that he found a way to hurt you. That, you couldn’t be immune to.
Growing footsteps at the door rouse you from your deep thought. You feel a dampness in your cheek and you hurry to wipe it away. The footsteps are slow, light, almost a drag.
He’s coming.
Deep breaths. Just remember: state of inertia. Pain is an illusion, a choice. You don’t have to feel it if you don’t want to.
The door opens softly. Inhale. He pads in, black hair a ruffled mess. Exhale. His eyes land on you, sat tensely on the bed of his Feed room, awaiting him. Inhale. He walks closer, each step absolutely soundless. Exhale.
When he arrives in front of you, you scan his face: paper-white skin, droopy eyes heavy from sleep- But wait. His eyes are already shifted; they don’t contain a grain of white.
Just a pitch dark ocean.
His touch is ice when he tilts your head to the side as he slumps onto the bed beside you. Without a single word, he yanks your neck to him and bites into you.
To you credit, you don’t cry out. Eyes clamped shut, you try to focus your attention elsewhere. Don’t mind his rough fingers around your throat. Don’t mind the excruciating pain that feels like a saw digging into your neck. Don’t mind the gush of blood surging out, droplets flying from the pressure. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt.
Pain is fake. Pain is an illusion. Pain is a neurological response. Pain is fear. Pain is a choice.
Think about something else.
You recall the conversation you had with Seokjin early this morning before you went to sleep, after he had tried to resume a normal dynamic between you, and brush what had happened under the rug. He had told you about the origin of the seven vampires.
Yes, think of that.
.
“It was over two millennia ago, when the Roman empire began to dominate the word’s seven seas and cruel dictators lead our people. We were seven brothers, sons of a rich influential man, fortunately born into a wealthy family that was favoured by our ruler. We were never particularly close to begin with as siblings, each of us absorbed into our lives. Namjoon was a fine public speaker, a clear born-leader, an intellectual, favoured by our father who had high hopes for him. I was a literature student, and despite being the eldest, politics was very evidently not my set path; I had always been more of an advisor. Yoongi had always been an odd, quiet one, but an extremely talented musician. My father didn’t particularly approve of the arts, yet we had so much fortune that he didn’t need all his sons to work. Hoseok was wild, popular amongst the people, held the best most-renowned dinner parties with endless entertainment such as dancers, drinking games and one time even an elephant he’d bought from Africa. Jimin was a hopeless romantic, a lover not a fighter, chasing lady after lady, promising that he was foolish last time, but this time he knows that she is the one. Taehyung loved art, an extraordinary painter and sculptor, even helped us design our new house once. Though he tended to spend too much time with men and women at inns and left a trail of broken hearts after him. Our youngest, Jungkook, was an Olympic athlete; anyone who competed with him accepted their defeat. He was the long-reigning champion, the pride of our family.
“Life was incredible for us seven, perhaps too incredible. Because soon, we realised that we didn’t want to stop living. Namjoon in particular was so magnetised by the idea of immortality, it became his mission, his obsession. This only worsened after the death of our father, as it made us realise that death is inevitable, even for the greatest. But to Namjoon, it was incredibly unfair. Why must the greatest die? The greatest deserve to live and rule for an eternity. That only made sense.
“There were rumours from ear to ear that the Olympian Gods worshipped by all were living among us, hiding. Pluto, or more commonly known as Hades, was said to hold the key to immortality. He was the God of Death after all, if you managed to find him and prove your excellence and worthiness, he shall grant you eternal life, youth and health. Of course, we were all entranced by such possibility. Though, whereas we saw it as folklore, Namjoon saw it as a goal.
“It was four years of seeking, four years of endless obsession, four years of dead ends. But he alas found something - a rumoured family of witches, descendants of Pluto according to the people from their village. They were outcasts for their strange ways and the weird happenings around them. It was said to best leave them alone, lest you wish for malfortune upon your kin. Namjoon paid the warnings no heed, had our slaves cease them from their home and brought to ours.
“At this point, Namjoon’s sanity was toppling. This family was tortured for answers, whipped like slaves for answers and cooperation. And when they continued to refuse, Namjoon had the husband slain, and threatened to kill the two children as well. The female witch who remained finally gave in and agreed to perform a spell of immortality for us.
“Witch magic is a complex matter, even for us now. We discovered that a witch’s promise is irrevocable, magic irreversible, so Namjoon was careful with his demands. He asked for immortality, eternal health, youth and beauty, which had been our original wishes, but he grew greedy and also asked for superhuman abilities such as speed, strength, stealth, healing, heightened senses and much more.
“To our surprise, the witch complied and promised to grant us these things. She concocted a spell which put us into a hibernation of seven days, and sure enough, when we awoke, we were different. We could run at lightning speed, lift boulders, jump the heights of arenas. We could fight lions and bears, and we would win. And so the witch was released with her children, never to be seen again.
“However, as the days passed, more and more began to shift. The taste of food grew bland in our mouth, light from sun grew increasingly blinding and sensitive to our skin, and the canines of our teeth felt like they were remoulding… Then came the unquenchable thirst. For blood.
“One night, Yoongi and Hoseok had gotten in a fight at an inn with some travellers. At the scent of fresh blood, they turned from angry men to black-eyed demons in a split second, ripping into the throats of every single person with a pulse. They had killed nearly a hundred people that night, in the span of an hour. Namjoon masked the incident as a bear attack. But then the same ill fate fell upon us all - a sudden loss of control, then an unstoppable feeding until our hunger is satisfied. It became too much to cover up. And soon, for some reason, the sun began to burn our skin.
“It became apparent that, though the witch did grant our wishes without fail, she had also bestowed a curse upon us. For the rest of our immortal lives, we would never be able to step foot in the sun again, and will be plagued with a monstrous thirst for blood. That was our punishment for our greed and cruelty.”
.
Yoongi finally releases your neck, carelessly ripping his fangs through your flesh and tendons. You fall lifelessly onto your back, head faint and spinning frantically.
You made it through. You hadn’t felt a thing. You managed to block it out.
But now, a searing agony overtakes your senses, so concentrated on your neck that you think you’re going to lose consciousness. Your vision is dark and blotchy as you stare at the ceiling, unmoving.
Is he going to heal you? Or is he going to watch you suffer first?
You lay there, trying to muster some understanding for the vampire who had just tore through your neck and drained what feels like half your body fluids. He hadn’t asked to be a vampire, he is a product of his brother’s greed, which he has to live with eternally.
But that doesn’t give him any reason to be this cold, this heartless.
Blood is pouring out of your wound incessantly, like a perpetual waterfall onto the bedding. You think you’re going to die. But it’s not the first time you’ve thought you’re going to die only to be disappointed, so you don’t have high hopes this time.
And sure enough, as your eyes begin to fall and breathing shallow, a wet warmth is pressed onto your lips. You refuse to open your mouth and be brought back to life, but calloused fingers force your jaw open and the potion flows into you once more.
You hate how good it tastes, how your body knows that this is what heals you. But something tastes different about Yoongi’s blood - there’s a zingy bitter aftertaste, like what petrol smells like. You want to spit it out.
Finally, gasping, you sit up. Yoongi carelessly wipes his already healing wrist on the covers, and you wonder if his reasoning behind getting white bed sheets for his Feed room is for the purpose of staining it red with blood, a display of his wreckage.
You glare at him, watch him pick at his nails. “Fuck you, you wanted me to suffer.”
He meets your eye, and you feel a spear of eyes pierce into your soul. “And what about it?” His voice is low, a hum, a purr, indicative that he’d just woken up.
Unbelievable. He’s fucking sick in the head.
“Not even a hello? A self introduction? You could have at least warned me.” You rub at your right neck where he had terrorised, the ghost of the brain-melting agony haunting you, and you don’t think it will ever stop haunting you.
“Do you talk to your breakfast before you eat it?” He grunts.
Truly, you’re at a loss for words. Gawking at him, you’re incensed to see the indifference in his pupils that have returned to normal now. He doesn’t back down from your gaze. For many, silence is an awkward discomfort, a moment where your brains are scrambling for the next topic of conversation. With Yoongi, silence is powerful; the silence speaks volumes, it tells you more about him than when he is speaking.
“I’m not a fucking waffle. I’m a living, breathing human; I have feelings, I-”
“I don’t care.”
His eyes are still locked onto yours as he climbs further up the bed. It takes every fibre in you not to shrink back against the headboard. You can’t show your fear, you can’t let him know the power he has over you.
“You think you have a hold on me, that I’ll give you the reaction you want,” he’s hovering over you now, your frame trapped between his arms, “but I know men like you. You-”
“There are no men like me.” Yoongi rumbles, his shadow towering over you but you refuse to lay on your back, refuse to cower.
“You act so cruel because you think the world owes you. You act like you don’t give a fuck about anyone except yourself. You abuse the power you have to hurt other people because it validates you. But it’s men like you who have the weakest minds, who are the most afraid and lonely.”
The growl that rips from his throat silences you. You wonder if you’re pushing too far. But what have you got to lose anyway? Might as well gamble with your life. “Shut the fuck up, you know nothing about me.” He clutches your throat in one swift motion.
“I know that you’re just a scared little boy inside who is trapped in this immortal body with no escape from his bloodlust.” You choke out despite his constricting grip.
“Shut up!” Yoongi lifts his other hand at you, but halts before he swings.
You don’t even flinch. Because you know you’ve won. If the game he plays is abuse and violence, you’ve definitely won, you’ve been practicing for it for years. Staring deep into his eyes, you know he knows too. So his arm slowly droops down, and he lets your neck go with an unnecessary shove. You splutter a cough.
He gets off you and hops off the bed, making his way to the window where he flings open the curtains and stares through the window into the dark night. Though he is facing away from you, you can tell that his mind has transported to some place distant, some place in the past, you wager.
He was going to hit you. He was going to hit you.
But he also didn’t. He stopped himself. Why? May there be a shard of hope left for his redemption? Maybe he does have a seed of humanity buried deep somewhere, awaiting its saviour droplets of dew to liberate it from centuries of misery, so it can sprout into a fresh green sap.
But why are you hoping? Why are you giving him the benefit of the doubt? He has no respect for you, or anyone; he views you as beneath him, not even worthy to speak to. He’s worse than Namjoon. Your pain fascinates him. He’s unsaveable.
Just try. He needs you. A voice sounds in your head, so clear that you look around for its source. Save him from himself. It’s your duty.
Duty? You frown. He can rot for all you care.
“What happened to my uncle?” Yoongi’s trance is stirred by your blunt question, though he doesn’t turn to you.
“Dead, Jungkook killed him.” He says it so casually, as if it was nothing more than a fleck of dust, as if he’s pretending not to know the impact it would have on you. Your chest caves in.
Dead.
Why is he dead while you are kept alive here, as a prisoner, as a toy? Why was he allowed to be set free from his crimes just like that while you are being endlessly punished by the one sole mistake in your past?
Drip. Drip drip.
The tears flow out soundlessly. You watch them splatter onto your shirt into dark splotches.
Yoongi notices and peers over at you, frowning. “Why are you crying? Don’t you hate him?”
“I… I fucking despised him. I wanted to be the one to kill him, but only after I do to him everything he did to me. It was my right, my right, and you guys took that from me.” It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as your pulse rises. You’re on the brink of hysteria, you feel it. You’re going to crack open and finally detonate.
If there was one thing you wanted, it was revenge for your suffering at the hands of your uncle. And you couldn’t even get that. What do you have to look forward to anymore?
A scoff leaves Yoongi, almost humoured, but dark. “You wanted to kill him?” He meanders back towards the bed. “Little girl, let me tell you that we did you a favour by killing him for you. Killing is an irremediable curse. It would have robbed your innocence, tainted your purity and haunted your dreams for the rest of your life. Revenge on your enemy is poison for your soul. Be glad you have never and will never kill.”
You suck in your breath, and hold it there. The significance of his words sink into you like a heavy vessel, pushing through the screams of madness wreaking havoc in your brain right now, and planting itself into your heart.
Killing is a curse.
Of course, of all beings, Yoongi would know best.
You sniff and look up, to be greeted by the soft cotton of his sleeve roughly wiping your eyes. “Stop crying, you look ugly.”
“Wh-”
“Plus,” he jabs his sleeve at your drying cheeks, “angel blood runs in your veins. You’re supernaturally inclined to virtue and righteousness. You wouldn’t have been able to commit such sin.”
Is that true? Your angel blood forbids you to sin? Thinking back, you had always been a good chaste child, obedient, caring, sweet and innocent. It was only towards the very end of your parents’ lives where you became more and more corrupted. And if you’re not wrong, it was only that very last month where rebellion arose from you and your relationship with them deteriorated out of the blue.
Where was your angel’s virtue that night they died?
01:01.
“God, you’re going to be a fucking pain.” Yoongi rumbles and the scene dissolves. “You’re lucky the seven of us are sharing you, or I would be making your life more of a nightmare than it was before.”
You ignore his comment; you’re learning that the less of a reaction you give him to his attacks, the more it will bother him. “How come I’m not sired to you yet?” For Namjoon and Seokjin, the bond had formed on the second time they fed on you, while it hadn’t happened with Yoongi yet.
“I don’t fucking know. Sireship is a tempermental thing, I guess. It has always taken me longer. If you’re so prone to be sired to me, I guess I’ll just accelerate the process.”
“N-” You protest as you register what he means but it’s too late. Yoongi has once again clambered over you, disregarding your discomfort as he situates his knees on either side of your lap and bites into your neck.
This time, you can’t suppress the surprised squeal of pain. And fuck there should be a new word to describe the hot white inferno at the laceration of your flesh because agony is a pin prick in comparison. You try to shove him off; it’s been too soon since his last feeding, your skin still feels incredibly raw. But instead, your efforts only cause his fangs to tear through you even more, and you scream at the rupture.
His rough hands hold you in place, pressing down onto your throat until you’re struggling for breath. You pray for the sire bond to come, to alleviate you from the pain even if it will leash you to this demon and cloud your judgement about him. You didn’t think you would ever rather be magically submitted to Yoongi than have to endure his vicious methods every time, but God. The pain is toppling your mind; you’d choose anything and everything so not to feel it right this moment.
But the bond doesn’t come. The universe enjoys watching you suffer, the heavens stand by idly watching.
Fuck, you really think you’re going to die this time. You really just wish you would already.
Yoongi’s body sits on top of you as he pulls you up, closer into him, one of his arms slithering behind your back. Adrenaline filled, your hand flies towards his head in attempt to slap him, though it would’ve been futile anyway. But his own hand releases your throat and catches it in the air, speed frightening, as he slams your wrist against the headboard.
The pounding in your head is growing, the familiar blurring vision as your eyes are fixed on one point in the ceiling, blank. You stop struggling.
He can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. So don’t let him.
Distract yourself. Think about something else. Someone else.
Seokjin.
Imagine it’s him feeding on you right now, rather than this monster. It doesn’t hurt when it’s Seokjin; it doesn’t hurt now. Let him drink as much as he wants because he will most likely starve himself as much as he can postpone the next time he feeds.
Seokjin just wanted to be human. He never hopped aboard on Namjoon’s quest for immortality, he was never greedy and sought power. He just wished for a normal life, with his studies and his beloved brothers.
It’s okay for Seokjin to feed on you. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.
No pain. No pain. No pain.
You picture his soft curved features, round button nose, smooth cheeks, plump tender lips. His lips. You two shouldn’t have kissed, but it means something that you did.
Ow. Yoongi pulled away only to bury into another spot nearby again, this time closer to your shoulder, his fangs scraping your joint.
Seokjin’s lips. Think about how safe you felt with him, how understood, how respected. Your sire bond had not only allowed you to feel each other’s emotions, it had also been in the form of a bridge. You felt like equals.
You heart clenches at the memory of his words. “I don’t wish to offend you in any way. I care about you. I don’t wish to confuse you. So, it’s best if it doesn’t happen again. For our own sake.”
Why must you feel this way for him now? Why must you confuse the sense of security he provides with affection? Why do you want more?
God, you want more. You want so much more. You want to feel alive from the rush of kissing someone. You miss the bliss of falling in love.
Why must this world be so cruel? Why must it rob you of all things that keep you sound and grounded? You have nothing left - truly nothing left. You’re just lifeless vacancy.
Your thoughts are going in loops, a downwards spiral. Yoongi devours his meal that is you, delighting in the whimpers you unknowingly let out every now and again. Your back has slid down against the headboard; he is now completely on top of you, your wrist pinned onto the pillow, his face buried in your neck, his body laid between your legs.
Yoongi noticing your consciousness waning again as you chant something over and over again under your breath like a broken doll, so he releases your neck for a moment. Your lips are paper white, eyes glazed, blood surging out of your right neck area like a riptide. It’s a lovely thick crimson, Yoongi’s favourite shade. And he’ll admit that it’s possibly the best he’s ever tasted.
He bites into his own wrist and feeds it to you. The six of them would be dreadfully unhappy with you if he manages to kill you on his first day. This time you don’t resist his blood; it trickles down your throat as you continue to mouth those inaudible words to yourself. Maybe he’s fucked you up for good already. Psh. The thought arouses him.
You choke on his blood as he knew you would because you hadn’t known to swallow, coughing out of your daze. You try to say something, but it comes out as a splutter of his plasma.
“What are you muttering?” Yoongi eyes down at you with a quirked brow, smearing red all around your mouth until it’s dripping off your chin, mirroring him. What a pretty sight.
“M-more.” Your voice is hoarse, as if you’d been screaming. But you hadn’t been.
“What?” He frowns, thumb freezing mid-stroke across your lips.
You think you’ve lost your mind. No, you’ve definitely lost your mind. There’s a hollowness within you that stretches beyond physicality, an outcome of torment after torment, tragedies that keep digging this hole of depression inside you. And you’ve never given up trying to climb out of this crater, you just kept trying and trying.
Until now.
“Give me more.” The lack of emotion in your voice sounds foreign yet familiar. “Make me feel more, fucking please. Because I honestly feel nothing, I don’t even feel the pain anymore. I’m so fucking numb and empty and I just want to feel something again.”
Yoongi blinks at you. Of all things, he hadn’t expected this. He knew you would be an interesting one, given the hell they had found you in. He thought the angel blood would have compelled some shred of purity and naivety in you still, even after your unfortunate past. He had been excited to strip you of your hope and sanity. But it seems like that has already been done.
“What the fuck do you want me to do then? Rip your arm off?”
“I don’t care. Just make me feel more, more than this bleak fucking void.”
He himself is all too familiar with this feeling - of being beaten down so much by the world that nothing even fazes him anymore, nothing even hurts. Unsure of what to do at first, he leans back down, hovering over you. He can���t read your eyes, or perhaps there’s nothing for him to read. You’re just blank.
Should he rip you open? Maybe you’ll feel that. But he knows you mean something deeper.
You watch Yoongi hesitate over you, sniffing at the drying blood on your skin. You do feel something right now: anticipation. What’s he going to do to you this time? Or is he even going to follow your request? Why should he care that you’re just a husk of a person now after all? You’re just his food.
But then his eyes flicker up at yours again, and you hadn’t realised that there are different shades of black until now. There are bright blacks that strike at you, soft blacks that soothe the soul, then there is true black where the darkness is so strong and absolute that it captivates you. Yoongi’s eyes are true black.
“Be careful what you ask for…” The danger in his low voice sends a creature crawling down your back. “You want to feel something? I’ll make you feel something.”
“Just-”
You don’t have time to react when he cuts you off by pressing his lips onto yours. Mind empty. Chest clenches.
Anyone would suspect he was a heartthrob if they felt his lips without any prior knowledge of the kind of person he is. They’re soft, inexplicably soft. You don’t understand how a monster like him has such soft lips… Another thing you don’t understand is why he is kissing you. Why the fuck is he kissing you?
You place your hand against his shoulder and push weakly. Not even a push. Your muscles are numb from the shock. He pays you no attention.
But then, soft as they are, his mouth soon begins to move roughly to claim yours, sucking on your bottom lip as you can’t help but shut your eyes and allow yourself to drown in this feeling. Because, God, you are feeling something, feeling more. You feel the rush in your blood, that exhilarating surge of adrenaline. And you hate that of all things, this is what makes you feel - kissing the man who delighted in hurting you. It’s a joke how damaged you are.
Kissing Seokjin had felt safe, secure, like curling up in bed after a long day. Kissing Yoongi feels dangerous, fatal, like injecting something deadly into your veins just to experience that high, not knowing if this will be the time you’ll overdose or not. It’s precarious. It’s the not-knowing that brings the thrill.
Yoongi bites down on your lip, not at all delicately; you wince as you taste your own blood. It’s twisted but when his tongue flicks out to lap at your cut, something in your core throbs. His hand comes around your throat, digging his fingers into you. Your breath hitches and he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper. Your own hands stay lingering on his shoulders, not daring to touch him more because that would feel too affectionate.
And this is anything but affectionate. It’s raw, carnal. Tongue laced with hatred, but need for relief.
With his body positioned between your legs, he doesn’t hesitate to announce his arousal as he grinds into your core. Even as you think about how much you despise this man, your traitorous cunt leaks at the feeling of his hardness rubbing against you.
“I can smell how responsive you are.” He growls into your mouth, hand running down your front to slide into your pants. You feel the hairs on your neck rise as his cold fingers meet your pubic bone. “It must pain you so much, how much you hate me, but how wet I make you.” Something in you sets on fire when he finds your clit, pulsing under his thumb.
Fuck, you’re definitely feeling more. More than you bargained for.
“It’s because I’m thinking about your brother.” You spit back.
He slaps you- down there. The wet clap resonates embarrassingly loud. Cool air licks up your thighs to your dripping cunt when he rips off your bottoms, literally rips, and tosses the fabric carelessly onto the floor. “I’ll fuck you until you’re crying my name, you slut. I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to stop because you can’t feel your legs anymore.”
Your foreheads are pressed together, as you stare at each other ferociously, warm breaths infusing, blood oozing from your lip. His threat sends another thrumming through your veins, which settles itself in your clit. You know he means every word he says. You know you should shove him off and yell for him to stop because that’s the sane thing to do. Instead, you say:
“Fuck me then, you piece of shit.”
In a brute vigor, he flips you onto your stomach. You hear the ring of the smack before you feel his palm collide on the tender cheek of your ass. The tingling sting imprinted on your skin is laced with a sick pleasure. Of all people, you should be the last to enjoy someone hitting you. Yet here you are, as a groan slips out you mouth.
“Do you fucking feel something now?” He spanks you again, this time on the other cheek. “You want to feel something so fucking badly.” Spank, this time harder than last. “Then I’ll make you feel.” Another spank. You bite down onto the pillow that your face is buried in.
You hear him tug down his own cotton joggers and your heart squeezes in anticipation. And when you feel him fit his stiffened velvet length between your ass cheeks, your heart plunges all the way down to your cunt.
Fuck. Your entire body is practically trembling for him, and you fucking hate it. “I hate you.”
“Good.” Yoongi grumbles into your ear as he grinds himself into your rear, gripping onto your hips so hard that it will surely bruise. “I hate you, too.”
“You get hard from watching someone bleed, you’re a sick fuck.” Even as you say that, you’re tilting your head back so the sensitive shell of your ear brushes his lips. The touch drills a twisting pressure in your pussy.
“And you get wet from kissing someone who made you bleed, you dirty fucking slut.” Cock still burrowed between your cheeks, you feel his tip dribble a trail of warm precum. Purring, he nips at your lobe, piercing through your skin as if it were paper. You yelp.
Abruptly, he sits up again and spanks you once more. In the absence of his cock humping into your rear, your backside feels barren. But you soon realise what’s coming next. “Get on your hands and knees.” He commands. When you fail to move quick enough, he wrenches your hip up to the height of his twitching member, liquid still streaming out his slit profusely as he lines his head to your damp entrance.
You’re all but whining for him to put the damn thing in already when he takes your hair and wrap it around his fist like a rein, yanking your head back. Still, he toys with your apparent impatience, slapping and running his bulging tip through your wet folds. Your exhale comes out as a quivering pant.
Just as your string of irritated curses at him are on the brink of tumbling out, he sinks his entire length into you without warning.
“Fuck!” You cry out. It’s been so long since the last time that your walls feel as though a train has run through them, stretching so thin to encompass his size.
And there it is - the vulgar, mind-twisting, irreplaceable feeling of being fucked.
Sparing you no time to adjust, Yoongi slams into you again, and again, in a stable strong pace, pulling your hair back harder until your back is bent upwards sorely. The ache in your cunt is trying to claw its way into you and fester in your flesh. Your knuckles whiten as you close your grip around the pillow cover, creasing the fabric in your fists. Grunting, he tears off your shirt from your back, freeing your breasts to the cool air.
His thrusts are merciless, the slapping of his hips to your rear echoing in the air. Fuck, he feels massive, cock punching into your weeping walls while you clench around him from the pain and the pleasure - two indistinguishable sensations. He tugs on your hair so hard that you have to yield and lift off your hands so you’re balanced on your knees, his greedy hand taking this chance to fondle with your breasts, pinching your nipple and twisting them roughly between his fingers.
Then his hand snakes around your neck once again, squeezing the air out of your lungs. Wheezing, you grab onto his thigh behind yours in retaliation and dig your fingers so hard that you feel his skin crack.
“You’re fucking asking for it.” He snarls. You twist to look at him just in time to see him bare his fangs, then digs into your neck. The sensation of his cock pounding into you at the same instance as your blood being drained into his mouth sends a shock through you. He seems to tense at the impact too.
Wait, no, it’s not a shock.
You feel every single cell in your body quake, dissociate. When you shut your eyes, your soul is sucked into a hurricane of darkness, whirling you deeper and deeper into the black hole. Closer and closer to Yoongi. Even when you try to open your eyes, all you see is black. Endless black. True black.
In a state of matter and antimatter at the same time, it feels as though you’ve been transported to a dimension between Earth and Hell, human but not quite, substantial but not quite, real but not quite. You’re a mere essence, a whisper of a soul, yet you can feel the ground beneath your feet. There are chains around your ankles and wrists; you can’t see anything aside from the darkness but the shackles are still ever present, holding you down.
Something trickles down your face - a tear. You touch it, but it feels too thick. You taste it, and it tastes of Yoongi’s blood. Bittersweet. You tug on the chains but they don’t budge, so you follow them, padding through the darkness as you pass metal link after link through your hands. Until you reach a mass.
Not a mass, a person, hunched over. You can just vaguely make out his silhouette that reflects a particularly sad darkness.
His shoulders are shaking.
Dazed, you bend down. Put your arm around him. Nuzzle his neck. And whisper ‘it’s okay’.
You stay there, chained to one another, tears of blood still streaming from your sightless eyes. Huddled together in the darkness.
With a gasp, you return to your body, mind distorted by the magic. And though you’re no longer in that place, wherever that is, you still feel the phantom shackles secured around you. Yoongi is still drinking you in large gulps, but his breathing is noticeably different.
He felt that too, the bond.
His fangs feel different to your flesh, no longer a sharp weapon to break your skin. They feel like an anchor, holding him onto you, letting him enter your soul. You shudder at the intimacy it imbeds.
Despite the trance he appears to be in, his pounding has not once faltered, but more even, as if the bond has driven him on. If he was an animal before, he is a beast now. The weight of his body forces you down, face pinned onto the pillow under him while his hands assail your breasts.
This new sensation is so raw, so undiluted, relentlessly filling you with a fervorous want for Yoongi. Your cunt is furiously clenching around him, the pressure begging to be released from its cage.
“Fuck-” He groans as he finally stops drinking. “This stupid fucking bond feels- Fuck.”
Each thrust he slams into you, you feel another unbreakable chain forming, binding you to him. And each time you close your eyes, you’re back to the darkness where you’re holding the crying boy. Something is clawing your heart, scratching it, tearing it, ripping its chambers open. You realise tears, actual tears this time, are rolling off your temple. You can’t tell if it’s because of the penetration of sadness from that boy made of darkness, or the penetration of Yoongi’s unceasingly brutal cock.
Then finally - ignition at every nerve ending in your core, rupturing through your entirety as if you are a mere vessel. You think you’re screaming but you can’t hear over the roaring of your pulse. The pillow you’re pressed onto suffocating you. Your walls squeeze as the pleasure wrenches you completely.
Yoongi watch you come undone beneath him, pace fastening to chase after his own climax. You’re panting, crying, bleeding from your neck down to your spine, yet features twisted in such pleasure. The juxtaposition. His member is throbbing inside you, veins bulging out on the sides. Hell, he is going to burst. And the moment he feels it coming, he pulls out and watches himself shoot onto your back, splattering your red hand-printed ass with his milky ejaculation.
“Fuck…” He moans, stroking out his high as he feasts on how you are still convulsing under him. Your trickling sweat mixes with your tears.
You don’t think you can move at all, even as Yoongi gets off you. His fingers play with his cum on your ass, smearing it along with your blood to paint himself all over you. You suspect it’s a mark of possession, a mark of victory. Because you definitely feel defeated.
You feel alive, but dead. You feel ashamed.
His tongue trails up your back, tasting himself along with your scarlet liquid. Angel blood has always been a favourite of his, because he loved how crazy it made him, how feral. But now, after the sireship, its taste is… untaintedly holy, like ambrosia, the food of the Gods. Unmatched by anything he has ever drank. He doesn’t think he can go back to drinking any other moral’s blood after this. You’ve ruined him for good.
And the bond… Yoongi stops licking. There are foreign emotions whirling within him right now, and one of them, he thinks is fear. Fear of the strength of this bond. Fear of the intimacy it threatens between you.
He had felt you - your arm around him, your gentle voice tickling his neck - during that complete blackness where he had fallen back to a deep dark past. It was a vulnerability that he had never experienced before. He was powerless against your intrusion.
So Yoongi pushes himself off you and clears his throat. “You dead yet?”
No response, no movement.
He rolls his eyes and commences to heal you. Mortals are annoyingly fickle creatures, you drink too much of their blood or fuck them too hard and they pass out, he thinks.
This time, it takes you a while to regain your consciousness, during which Yoongi dresses himself, but doesn���t bother cleaning you up. You sit up, naked and shamefully exposed. When you meet his obsidian pupils, you don’t know how to interpret the confusion in them.
“What the fuck?” You ask as if you hadn’t willingly took part, even though you both know you clearly had. There is a raw soreness blaring between your thighs, and you’re embarrassed to find yourself glancing over at his crotch.
“You asked me to make you feel something. Why are you acting surprised?” His lids are half closed, bored, as he surveys the puddles of red on the bed. Your eyes follow his, trying to process how the sheets had been spotlessly white not three hours ago, yet now they only possess one corner that isn’t stained in crimson. It looks as though cattle had been slaughtered here as a sacrifice to the divinity. It’s all your blood.
And when you lock eyes with him again, you feel the weight of the chains hanging from your limbs. Bound forever.
“You feel alive now, don’t you? Dead inside still, but at least your heart was racing when I was fucking you.” He taunts, slowly rolling off the bed in an indifference that boils your blood.
You hate how true his words are. That was the very feeling you wanted, the thrill that you were seeking to break you out of that inertia. You hate how it was with him, of all people. It could have been anyone under this roof, yet you picked this monster. And you hate how, even now, you don’t think you regret it, not even with the disgust and resentment raking at your chest for this vampire.
“You should get used to it. Sex is a faultless coping mechanism for those of us who are too hollow to feel anything else.” Yoongi continues, as he heads towards the door. “Wash yourself up and stay here until I come back when I’m hungry again.”
A response still trying to formulate in your brain, all you can do is stare at his back in silence. Quietly fuming.
Yoongi pauses before twisting the doorknob. “Oh, and don’t think I did that for you. I couldn’t wait to fuck you as soon as I tasted your blood.”
It was all you could do to restrain yourself from leaping across the room and hammering his face. Not that you would’ve been able to anyway. Motherfucker is so insecure that he couldn’t risk you thinking that he would ever not act out of self interest, so he masks it with spiteful words to try to hurt you.
“You tried so fucking hard to break me, but I was already broken.”
His head turns, shadows casting over his profile. His lips purse into a smirk that holds no amusement at all. “Join the fucking club, you’re nothing special.”
“I fucking hate you.” You spit back at him, the venom imbued in your words is more than you thought you were capable of and it surprises you.
He gazes at you over his shoulder, unfazed. Cold and unfeeling. And somehow the words he reply inflict an ache in your heart that shouldn’t be there because, all of a sudden, you see a flash of the small broken boy before you.
“I fucking hate me too.”
Then he slams the door behind him.
❦
@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp
❦
23/11/2019
© Copyright 2019
#bts#bts smut#bts vampire au#bts angst#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts poly au#ot7 x reader#namjoon#namjoon smut#namjoon vampire au#seokjin#seokjin smut#seokjin vampire au#yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#yoongi vampire au#hoseok#hoseok smut#hoseok vampire au#jimin#jimin smut#jimin vampire au#taehyung#taehyung smut#taehyung vampire au#jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook vampire au
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ive actually been a fan of wof for years now, im just not super active in the fandom and i guess id like to be? so here i am, sending u an awkward ask lol. anyways, the more i think about animus magic, the more i hate the way tui executed the concept? like theres barely any consequences or limitations. dragons can do whatever they want with it, which is bad for the plot. idk what are ur thoughts?
Hah, this isn’t awkward at all, I actually do have a lot of thoughts on animus magic, particularly how it differs in each tribe.
I think giving each tribe different types of magic, as well as individual drawbacks on top of the general “you go crazy if you abuse your power”. Though I think the latter could have worked as more of a “if you use your power selfishly, it’ll turn on you” sort of situation?
In my headcanons, each tribe has a type of magic they work best with, and a type of magic that puts strain on their physical form.
As the tribe closest in appearance to traditional European dragons, I like to headcanon Skywing animus magic as Weather and Element based. Stuff like creating storms and controlling wind currents is easy to imagine, but also magic pertaining to emotions, often fueled by the feelings of the animus themselves. A Skywing animus might find it easiest to use an object to better conduct magic, like a branch or, most commonly, crystals of different types. Skywing magic is what you would call “cast spells”, meaning they have no need to write or say what they wish to do, just think or “feel” it.
As for drawbacks, emotional instability is kind of obvious, huh? There’s also bad weather being attracted to the animus, and parts of their body slowly turning into whatever object they used to channel their spells. As an example, using crystals in his spells might result in an animus’ scales turning into crystals themselves, whereas an animus that used a branch to direct air currents would notice her tail growing small twigs and leaves out from between her scales.
The magic Skywings have most difficulty with is Herbal and Brewed magic. I feel since Skywing magic is very much based on action and emotion, it would be difficult for a Skywing animus to properly channel it in such a passive way.
Mudwing animus magic is perhaps my favourite to think about, it being what I call Herbal or Brewed magic. Mudwing animi specialize in potions and medicine, though this is more of an inherent tribe skill, their magic works best when imbued into food or drink. To continue with this technique, “power-ups” would be cool to see. Potions to give a dragon super strength or speed, or to keep their scales permanently warm so they can always breath fire. I think Mudwings would be most likely to use so called “magical ingredients” for their spells, as in the act of the animus using an ingredient makes it magic, rather than a normal dragon including it in their stew.
I don’t feel there would be much room for drawbacks when it comes to Mudwing magic, so I’m gonna say there isn’t one. However, I will say Brewed magic is one of the hardest to perfect, as if a quantity of ingredient is even slightly off, disaster is imminent.
Transformation magic is likely to be the hardest for a Mudwing animus to use. While Brewed magic is hard, it’s precise and a recipe can be done a hundred times for a hundred different dragons, and the effects never alter. Transformation magic is the opposite, in that the spell must be altered for every dragon, as every dragon is slightly different.
Next up is Sandwings! They lean most towards Written and Solar based magic. As you can guess, this means their magic is linked at least partially to the sun. Though they can’t control them, Sandwing animi often have very keen senses when it comes to the weather and seasonal changes. Change itself is a big thing for Sandwings, so seasonal magic is common. Sandwings also find writing spells easiest, as the spell is then precise and exactly as they need it. Sandwing riddles, told at parties or in passing as a fun conversation topic, have their roots in animus magic. Sandwing animi also enjoy the company of animal companions, usually camels or vultures; animals that can carry scrolls and items for the animus in question.
The downside for Sandwing animi can be either mental or physical. They can start forgetting things, losing track of time, generally being scatterbrained, which eventually leads to them losing their entire memory. Or, their scales begin to darken, although I’m undecided on what kind of colour they would turn. Should they just turn golden or maybe more of a sunburnt orange or red. Perhaps even black. I dunno, maybe all three.
Spoken and Lunar magic are the clear opposites of Written and Solar, so it’s pretty obvious why a Sandwing animus would have trouble in this area. Sandwing magic can be very picky, kind of like a sadistic genie that goes by what a wisher says, rather than what they mean. A dragon has to be very careful how they phrase a spell, which is hard for most Sandwing animi, hence their avoidance of Spoken spells.
I think my Seawing animus headcanon is the closest to being confirmed in canon, since the Seawing animi we see using their magic are usually using what I’ve called Spoken and Lunar magic. This includes regeneration(like healing of themselves and others), curses, transfiguration of objects and generally verbal commands. And for the record, “verbal commands” is usually, like the animus test the Seawings take, telling an inanimate object to do something. Lunar magic is connected to the moon and the tides, opposite to Solar magic. This can mean it gets stronger under a full moon, and gives a Seawing animus a kind of bond to the ocean the more they use Lunar magic. As with Sandwing animi, the magic that comes most natural to Seawings involves change. Changing tides, moon rotations, drifting currents and rips, all those factor into their magic’s strength, in and out of water. Seawing animi can also suffer a lowering of inhibitions, and can suffer what I call “going feral”. Theirs is the most noticeable, though this final drawback can affect all tribes.
I like to think the more a Seawing animus uses their magic, the more they start to look like a deep sea creature. Brighter glowing scales, thinner scales overall(sometimes so thin you can almost see their insides, bleurgh!), elongated, thinner teeth, and increased speed of growth to their whole body.
As you can probably guess, Written and Solar magic are the areas that cause the most trouble for Seawing animi. I’m not sure what else to comment here, since I feel it’s pretty straightforward, so there you go.
Rainwings! The tribe I’m most like! I feel that since the average Rainwing can change the colour of their scales regardless of magical ability, Transformation magic would be a perfect match for any animi that might exist in the tribe. Transformation magic includes form shifting of themselves and others, body hrror/torture(which differs from simple form shifting because it’s specifically supposed to cause pain) and transfiguration of objects. Transformation magic requires knowledge of how the specific dragon’s body works, moves and how their mind reacts to things. You might think the average Rainwing is too self-centered to be capable of that kind of perceptiveness, but I believe they’re more perceptive than they’re portrayed in-canon.
I think the most noticeable consequence of a Rainwing animus using their magic is their scale colours “glitching”. If the Rainwing is naturally purple and green and they try to turn red and blue, areas of their scales might change slower than the rest, or not change altogether. A camouflaged Rainwing might suddenly find themselves bright pink and orange. Stuff like that.
Weather magic is most difficult for a Rainwing animus, since it requires a lot of, I guess passionate emotions? Weather magic is loud and aggressive and takes a lot of power to control. It also relies heavily on being strongly connected to every emotion, and can backfire terribly on a dragon that doesn’t know how to wrangle that kind of power.
Mind and Time magic is what I’ve assigned for Nightwings! I felt it fits with their whole Mystical Infinite Powers aesthetic. Obviously, Mind magic includes mindreading and and Time magic future vision - which were most likely a gift from a Nightwing animus a long time ago. Other abilities include fate writing(a spell that can change an otherwise unchangeable future), enchanting, illusions, and changing minds/the perceptions of a dragon. This magic is actually relatively simple to perform, and one of the most used types by all animus dragons. That doesn’t make it any less powerful or dangerous, in fact it’s probably more dangerous that it’s so easy to use. Nightwings certainly haven’t been using it for the best purposes.
This is the magic I think is the root cause of dragons losing their minds, since “Mind” is like one whole half of the magic. The unfortunate thing is that Nightwings are excellent bullshitters, so they at least last a while before anyone figures out something’s wrong. The side effect of using other types of magic is most notably scale discolouration, to the point that there are records of completely white, full-blood Nightwings.
Since Icewings and Nightwings are Enemies For Life I figure their magics would clash just as much, out of principal. Reflective magic in particular requires the user to be self aware, to know their faults and, if only momentarily, be at peace with them. Nightwings are pretty in denial about a lot of stuff, it’s part of the culture they’ve built up.
Finally, Reflective and Defensive magic is the natural inclination of Icewings. That means shielding and barrier magic - which can be physical or psychological, insightful magic, illusions and star spells. No insightful magic is Not future vision, if you make that comparison in front of even a regular Icewing you will be murdered. The Icewing mind is typically pretty guarded already, as we see when Moon tries to read them. I like to believe that an animus a long time ago used their Gift to make it so Nightwings can’t read the tribe’s minds, or at least not easily. This would be an example of a psychological barrier spell. Star spells are tied to the stars(no duh) like Solar and Lunar magic are tied to their respective namesakes. However, as opposed to change, star spells are constant. Once one is cast, it stays forever. Almost all Icewing magic is a star spell of some kind, making other dragons very wary of an animus born from the tribe. Thankfully, the fact that Icewing magic includes that of Defense, it’s rarely used for aggressive purposes.
I believe Icewing magic would backfire by crystalising within the user’s bones, making their joints stiff and their mind fuzzy. They may dissociate from the world and eventually be lost, as with Sandwings.
As I said, Icewings and Nightwings are opposites in magic, though there are overlaps which serve to infuriate both tribes. Considering Nightwing animus magic supposedly came from Icewings, the former retained some of the abilities of the latter.
There you are, my thoughts on dragon magic. This turned into much more of a headcanons post than an answer, so I hope you don’t mind. Thanks so much for the ask, and I hope you find content creators that make you feel safe being active in the fandom!
#Wings of Fire#Rose Brambles#Headcanons#Dragon Biology#Animus Magic#Mudwings#Skywings#Sandwings#Seawings#Rainwings#Icewings#Nightwings#i didn't think i had thoughts but then i did oop#guess who found motivation#i have so much stuff in my drafts#sorry to all the people following me who thought i was consistent#dunno where y'all got that idea
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C & E for Lyra, G & M for Lillian 💕
thank you lovely!! sorry for the delay xx
— E / EXTERNAL PERSONALITY
i. does the way they do things portray their internal personality?
absolutely. it might seem counterintuitive, since a good deal of her life has relied on deception — her many cons, her evasion of suspicion in forty murders over the span of ten years, and eventually posing as a civilian to spy on the resistance for the project — but she’s effective because of her passive, instead of active, methodology; she will not tell an explicit lie, but she will make a statement that is technically true, but wildly misleading in its context; she really is that affable and good-natured. she is also sadistic, messianic, and freely admits that she considers herself monstrous ( yes, she is terrible; she knows what she is, do you? ), but generally speaking, no one has cause to see that until it’s too late ( no, literally, she is removing their eyeballs, she is cutting their tongues, she is sewing flowers where their organs used to be, and isn’t it beautiful, that their deaths have meaning, that their skin will not simply blister and burn, that they will not choke as the ash fills their lungs; she will string their bodies about the county; no one will know the work is hers, not until later, not until the end, but then, they never thought to ask ). her blood runs much too hot, she is much too impulsive and reckless, her fuse much too short to maintain a persona that is not, essentially, who she is; if others have missed something essential, well. that’s hardly her fault, is it?
ii. do they do things that conform to the norm?
absolutely not. she has never, anywhere in her life, not been glaringly out of place. it’s how she prefers it; she hides in plain sight. she was perpetually flinging herself up against what was expected of her, getting kicked out of boarding school, disappearing for days at a time on nantucket, eventually leaving the week before her sixteenth birthday and never returning. she left behind any semblance of a normalcy with her old life; she’s been on the run ever since. the closest she has had in her adult life to a routine, to normalcy, is with the project. that says everything, i think.
iii. do they follow trends or do their own thing?
see above. she has quite literally never conformed; even as a girl she was a scandal, far too obscene for the old money set ( doubtless her mother’s blood, they murmur; what was lawrence thinking? ). her manner of speaking is outdated, over-formal and over-familiar; her wardrobe consists solely of bare feet or high heels, of long white or pale pink dresses with thigh slits, plunging necklines, bared arms; she is entirely ostentatious. she was living out of her car pumping gas at a texaco in a wedding dress on a tuesday afternoon.
iv. are they up-to-date on the internet fads?
not especially, she stays informed prior to hope county on what’s presently influencing the public consciousness but she doesn’t especially engage with it; she’s never been much for the internet. she’s good at context clues. if you send her a gif or a meme she’ll understand it. if you send her a screenshot of a vine or expect her to understand that sort of shorthand she’ll be lost. why have you sent this photo of a man smashing his phone. is he a friend. does he need help.
v. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?
she projects her personality diligently. everything about her has been refined to this; everything about the way she presents herself is intentional. yes, it’s a manipulation, but it’s also true — she has never been anything else. she would not be able to be otherwise, even if she wished to. she allows people to draw their own assumptions from what she presents, and their conclusions are nearly always incorrect; she is indisputably a certain type of woman, but very few actually arrive at the type of woman she is. she weaponizes hyper-femininity to give the illusion of vulnerability to a certain type of man. she gives the impression of materialism where there is none. she bares her tattoos at all times ( the lilies strangled by vines, the thorned roses, the serpent twined in carnations, the wrath across her breasts ); she has shown everyone what she is, she warned them, she wears it on her skin, it is not her fault they did not interpret it correctly ( this is why the marking & atonement immediately resonates with her, it’s aligned with an ideology she already possesses ).
— C / COMFORT
i. how do they sit in a chair?
legs extended and crossed at the heel when she wishes to take up space or make herself an imposing presence; straight backed with her legs folded at a bar or in a meeting; a regular feline at home ( if she’s with her husband she’s curled around him and in his lap, no personal space in this house ). ( originally answered here x )
ii. in what position do they sleep?
she used to sleep on her stomach or side with one arm flung out and the other tucked under her head; she and john sleep in a tangled mess on top of each other because they’re disgusting. she likes to keep a hand on one of his pulse points; she can’t sleep unless she can feel him breathe. ( originally answered here x)
for the last ten years of her life she sleeps curled on the ground with her fingers in the dirt and tries to feel a pulse through the earth.
iii. what is their ideal comfort day?
watch the sunrise ( this is not john's ideal comfort day so his ass better be on that balcony ), fuck all morning, wander the mountains or get high by the river most of the day, read or dance to her favorite records, and a fire at night ( bonfire in the firepit or by the river preferable, hearth fire acceptable if the weather is not permissive ).
iv. what is their major comfort food? why?
hot, sweet, baked things. sugar donuts, scones, coffee cakes. she would loiter around the nantucket bakeries as a girl. lawrence would take her sometimes, if he needed something or was repenting.
v. who is the best at comforting them when down?
john is essentially the only person she even allows to attempt; faith and joseph very circumstantially. it’s less about emotional vulnerability and more about burdening anyone else with her problems; in any given situation, she considers herself the most expendable party, but specifically her discomfort/suffering — she quite literally believes her soul to be damned and forfeit as the price of the world, the lamb, if you will — and that extends to her emotional state in terms. she’s comfortable making herself john’s problem because he signed up for it; she adamantly refuses to do so elsewhere.
— G / GORGEOUS
i. what is their most attractive external feature?
she favors her eyes; all of her sisters share them. she is most often complimented on her hair.
ii. what is the most attractive part of their personality?
extremely resourceful and an excellent conversationalist; either a real pain in the ass or a fucking delight when she lets her hair down, depending on who you ask.
iii. what benefits come with being their friend?
access to everywhere and everything, though if it’s above board she’s probably going to be dull about it and spend the whole time sniping at society she sees there. knows the best places to slip in if you don’t want to be seen, can guarantee you’re seen if you do. can dispatch unwanted suitors, artfully when she’s sober and off-puttingly when she in her cups. premium gossip, if you'd like it.
truthfully, before the war, she'll never be a simple friend to have; she comes with the complications of her family and her name, as much as she might like to slip out at night and play at anonymity to pretend otherwise ( which she will want to do, often ). nonetheless, she invariably comes with society's gaze fixed on her, her familial obligations, and a good deal of skepticism about the intentions of others. she’ll see to your social advancement because that’s what she expects you need from her. if you've withstood the test of time, however, you’re her family, second only to her siblings; she’ll do anything for you.
post-war she can offer her loyalty and a wealth of knowledge about the world before, context to pre-war technology, etc. very scientifically adept, if not trained; in another life she would have spent her years in a lab instead of in front of the cameras. a valuable ally as long as you don't put her on the front lines.
iv. what parts of them do they like and dislike?
she likes that she's resourceful. she likes that she's undefeated among her peers at chess. she likes how splendidly she can command a room, when she wishes; she likes that she can make people listen to her. she likes it better still when she feels she has something that's worth saying ( and she nearly always does ). she likes that she can be ruthless.
while it is one of her defining traits, she can dislike her obstinacy, insofar as she recognizes it’s to blame for her willful blindness to what was happening around her before the great war. she dislikes the extent to which her loyalty to her family led her to turn her head to what was happening around her. she dislikes that she cares so much what everyone thinks of her. she dislikes that she needs her mother's approval, that she hears her voice even after her death. even after she killed her.
v. what parts of others do they envy?
to that point, she envies the more uninhibited like jackie a good deal; to disregard the opinion of others, even their family, in the name of staying true to herself and her ideals is a type of bravery that lillian wishes she had, even if she thinks jackie misguided in her radicalism. she envies freedom, in all forms she lacks it. she envies those unconcerned with perfectionism. she envies anyone who lives a life unencumbered by expectations and legacies.
post-war, she envies those who aren’t burdened with what came before, all that was lost and how and why. she wouldn’t unknow it it she could — being the last to know is a great fear of hers that’s been realized one too many times — but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t envy those who don’t have that baggage of first hand experience and involvement.
— M / MATERNAL
i. would they want a daughter or a son?
neither, truthfully, but she would probably feel more comfortable raising a son; she’s already spent her life shielding evie from their mother, and feels she did an abysmal job of it, so she’s not eager to repeat those mistakes.
ii. how many children do they want?
none, really. lillian is unable to have biological children, but even if she could, she only would have had them out of a sense of obligation to continue the family line, and because of that sense of obligation — subconscious though it might have been — she came to resent the concept.
iii. would they be a good parent?
not really. she could learn — she can learn about anything — but it wouldn't come naturally to her. because it's not something she would choose for herself, it isn't something that would ever be uncomplicated for her. in many respects she's too much a perfectionist to strike a balance as a parent; she would either be overinvolved and overbearing or go to the other extreme and be entirely hands-off. her nanny would most likely be the better mother; hers was.
iv. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter?
john is the family name for boys, from which she'd probably be disinclined to deviate ( even evie only ventured so far as "shaun" in her defiance ). she would name a girl anything but audrey ( her mother's first name, her own legal first name ). after the war it would be extremely circumstantial. she would probably name her after jackie. because of birth order, she tells evie brightly. evie is annoyed by this for the rest of their lives.
v. would they adopt?
she technically does adopt, in the sense that she takes in her nephew and passes him off as her own. she figured she owed evie that much. ( as it happens, the great war comes just before his first birthday, so motherhood is still not something in the cards for her ). she wouldn't do it again, and she would not have done it under virtually any other circumstances.
#pardon the novel jfc#i flipped e & c for the order because i recycled a few answers in c xx#answered#scungilliwoman#oc: lyra fairbanks#oc: lillian fitzgerald
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ive been thinking about my ocs lately and since i saw someone else post about theirs its time for me to infodump, baby.....
captain silja kallas: human, she’s estonian and the youngest of five children, three older sisters and a twin brother that’s 10 hours older than her. extremely charismatic, optimistic, and makes friends with anyone. she clawed her way to the top by doing some not so savoury things, she can be extremely manipulative to get what she wants. but overall, she’s a really nice person. she can play violin like her brother, and she always wears her hair up in a bun tied with a green ribbon. she has a sexual appetite for ferengi men... some say she even dated quark (she says it, because it’s true)
lt. cmdr sulev kallas: chief of security. being the only boy out of five, he grew up with more effeminate interests and practically never left his twin sister’s side. he’s quiet and a bit shy but always looking out for her. gay but doesn’t share silja’s questionable taste in men. he spoke/understood federation standard before the academy but never really spoke it (when he felt like saying something), so he speaks with a bit of an accent. his hair is the same length as his sister’s (very long) but he doesn’t tie it back
commander zarel lejan: first officer, trill diplomat, joined and is the fourth host to the fairly young lejan symbiont. all three of his past lives were female and he was murdered by men in all of them so he has a bit of an issue being around other men, mainly while he’s alone with men he doesn’t know. he was sent to join starfleet and this is his first posting as commander, and he doesn’t really trust the captain initially. however, he is extremely protective of the women he cares about even though he's super uptight and almost unapproachable. he fell in love with his wife at first sight while on his first diplomatic mission to earth.
lt. cmdr qadira lejan: chief engineer, human, an extremely hard working pakistani woman - she’s very strict with keeping her engineering staff in line but off-duty she’s incredibly approachable, witty, and thoughtful. she is very detail-oriented and will remember little things about pretty much anyone. (she knew sulev loves to sew so she gave him tons of pretty fabric she had hoarded) she loves her husband but finds the “diplomat’s wife” aspect of it a bit boring and has been found at many diplomatic functions sitting around and reading tech manuals.
lieutenant venik: chief medical officer, ferengi, and silja’s ex boyfriend. from his youth he was always an outcast on ferenginar, he’s very selfless and his only interests are in healing and helping others, not making any sort of profit. he heard about nog joining starfleet and was inspired to join soon after, proving to be a quite brilliant doctor. he is the only doctor in starfleet with knowledge of how to properly clone vorta. he’s a bit misogynistic and dense but means well.
ensign miros: vorta, during the dominion, he was known as “sadistic miros” and treated his jem’hadar and vorta he outranked quite cruelly. his current clone deviated from his cruel demeanor and realized what he was doing was wrong, he basically had this whole breakdown and defected from the dominion and hid out in the alpha quadrant for a few months. joined starfleet immediately after the dominion war and was ostracized at the academy, only finding a friend in venik, who always stood up for him. they have a friends with benefits deal but caught feelings and won’t admit it to each other! he’s incredibly gentle and patient with others.
lt. cmdr feya amarel: bajoran, ship’s counselor who is very calm and empathic, but a bit scatterbrained and clumsy. she suffers from narcolepsy as a side effect of ptsd from the bajoran occupation. she’s a lesbian and has a thing for cardassian women. cast aside her spirituality years ago and no longer wears the earring, however, she has a great deal of respect for people who can still hold onto their faith.
lieutenant prella jacett: cardassian security officer. very erratic and materialistic, but confident and thorough in her work. she lost her entire family at the end of the dominion war and is extremely wary of vorta, jem’hadar, and changelings. she joined starfleet seeking to make peace with herself and also hopefully help others avoid going through what she did. also she had an older sister that feya had slept with. small world!
provisional ensign solaris: vorta, an incredibly efficient mechanic whose ship got damaged in one of the last dominion war battles and fell off the radar, unable to signal for help or transport off the ship. she kept her ship adrift for 6 years running basic life support and food replication, once in a while landing on a stray moon to stretch her legs and collect provisions, but afraid to make contact with any other life forms. she’s distrustful and snobby, and quite a kleptomaniac, but in turn extremely resourceful. the crew tractored in her ship to let her make repairs in a stable environment, but were so impressed with her abilities they asked her to stay. she had to share a room with prella who initially hates her/is afraid of her but they go from enemies to lesbians pretty quickly
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TouyaMight
sdkfjhsdkf listen don’t judge mE
this is a thread ive been writing on twitter since november,,,,,
--------------------------------------------
Pissing off his father always gave Touya the greatest thrill. To know he was the one to put the angry scowl on his face and the furrow between his brows, well, it brought him a sense of sadistic joy.
What? He deserved to give his old man shit considering all the fucked up shit he had to go through
So whenever an opportunity came up to fuck with the number 2, Touya took it.
Painting over the billboards that had his dad’s face? Kids play.
Ruining his costumes with bleach in very strategic areas? Amateur hour.
Bulk ordering All Might Merch to his agency? Done and done.
So when Touya joined his father and siblings at the most recent Hero’s Gala and saw the number 1 hero was also in attendance well…. He couldn’t just /miss/ a perfect opportunity like this! It would practically be a crime!
Fuyumi of course knew him all too well, he could see her bee lining to him, and he just /smiled/ and gave her a jaunty little wave, ignoring her calling his name as he sidled up to where the number 1 hero was conversing with others.
Touya could practically feel the heat of his father’s stare as slides in close to the blonde, one scarred hand delicately placed on a deliciously muscular arm.
“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met before this, the name’s Touya Todoroki, it’s a pleasure to meet you All Might.” Touya flashes him his best smile, a soft curl of his lips and a fluttering of his eyelashes.
He knows he’s a sight, white hair styled back, slinky black dress with high slits, heels, and of course the multitude of burn scars covering a majority of his body.
Endeavor had nearly blown a gasket when he showed up like this, it was only the fact they were in public that kept him from scolding Touya.
“Young Todoroki! It is a pleasure to meet you! It’s certainly unfortunate we haven’t been able to meet before now, I do not often attend these sorts of functions!” All Might’s smile was wide and bright and Touya kinda wished he had a pair of sunglasses damn those pearly whites were shining in his eyes.
“It /is/ a shame huh? We could always meet up afterwards, I know a few restaurants.” The temperature in the room rose by several degrees and Touya could hear his sisters groan and Natuo’s muffled snort.
The conversations around them had fallen into startled silence at the fact the son of Endeavor, All Might’s biggest rival, had just asked the number 1 hero out.
All Might could only stare at Touya in shock, the offer of a date was unexpected and the hero couldn’t fight the flush that burned the tips of his ears, “I appreciate the offer young Todoroki but unfortunately I will have to decline.”
Before the white haired man could reply Endeavor is there, large hand wrapped around the slim arm and pulling him away, face positively thunderous.
“Maybe next time All Might!”
Touya laughed even as Endeavor dragged him out of the event.
Mission accomplished.
--------
The argument Touya and Enji got into once they reached home almost made the spectacle not worth it. Especially when the argument got heated enough and accusations thrown around that Touya’s tenuous control on his quirk slipped.
The dark burn across his arms didn’t even hurt, not really, and that was the bad part. It meant that he’d burned straight past a 2nd degree burn to 3rd and he was going to be stuck in the hospital /again/.
He hated being stuck in the hospital, he practically lived at the goddamn place. The whole staff knew him since he'd been coming there since he was young, how fucked up is that.
The pitying looks as they gave while they looked over his burns and decided whether or not he’d need another skin graft were so fucking annoying.
He hated all of it.
If he snarked more at the staff then necessary it wasn’t his fault really. The place was boring and stressful and he hated being stuck here.
There were never that many other patients for him to talk to, the hospital was a private one for top heroes and their families, so Touya rarely saw other people. Most of his day was spent chatting with doctors and nurses and bitching about the extra meal replacement drinks he had to take.
So when he noticed the frail looking blond man, he couldn’t help but be interested. The man was sitting outside in a hospital gown, and Touya took a seat next to him.
“Damn, what’d happened to you?”
At least the guy didn’t look offended, a win in Touya’s books honestly.
No, the guy snorted a laugh and gave Touya a surprisingly soft smile that made the gauntness of his face soften and Touya couldn’t help the thought that he wasn’t bad looking when he smiled.
“A fight with a villain unfortunately. He got a lucky shot in and damaged me pretty bad.”
“Damn that’s gotta fucking suck. Especially since you’re stuck in this boring as hell place now.”
That earned him another smile.
“Oh I don’t think it’ll be that bad, after all you’re here no? The man who asked out All Might is quite interesting I think.”
“Damn, so you saw me get rejected! Well, then you already know me, what’s your name? Since it seems like we both might be stuck here a while.”
“I am Yagi Toshinori, it’s a pleasure to meet you properly Touya.”
-----
The next time Touya meets Yagi several days have passed by. He finds the older man slumped over in one of the comfier chairs, IV line in his arms and he looks absolutely /miserable/.
Touya can’t help but feel bad for the poor guy, he looks worse than usual, his tanned skin unhealthily pale and breathing laboured.
So he settles in next to Yagi, arms and legs thrown over the arm rests of his chair.
“Damn, you’re lookin’ worse today Yagi-san, what happened?”
The tall man blinks at his new companion, a small smile stretching across his face.
“Ah, we’re trying a new treatment today and well… it’s a bit taxing. I’m afraid I won’t be very good company today Todoroki-san.”
“Ah man, don’t call me that, makes me feel like my brothers or dad. Call me Touya.”
“Touya-san then.”
Touya fixes his eyes on bright blue ones and grins, he thought it would’ve been more of a struggle to get the blond to call him by name.
“Well, since you’re feeling bad, how about a story? Natsu and the nurses used to read me some when I was stuck in bed.”
He doesn’t even really wait for a response before starting.
“So you like, remember how I told you I asked out all might yah? Lemme tell you about it. So like, there’s this party, and dad wants us all to go because the public has been asking about his family and all that. And so I came to the party, dressed amazingly right. Like I got this bOMB ass dress. Dad nearly blew a gasket when I came in it."
Touya wiggles his fingers and arms, making motions as he tells his version of the events. The growing smile on Yagi’s face just made him be more dramatic with his storytelling and movements.
-----
"And there he is. There's All Might. The big kahuna himself. And my little brain gerbils start moving. And I get the idea. ‘How else should i make dad mad today?’ And that’s when it comes to me. ASK OUT ALL MIGHT."
“Wait was this before or after you kicked the guy who whistled at you?”
“After- so anyWAYS-”
-----
"And then the car explodes."
"What????!"
"Okay not really. Figuratively. Dad burned the roof again."
"Okay so maybe a little literally? I dunno english is hard."
"Touya were speaking japanese"
"Fuck"
-----
By the end of the story they’re both laughing and Touya feels light and happy as Yagi chortles at the selfie he managed to take while being dragged out of the party.
It was nice to see Yagi smiling again instead of hunched in on himself in pain and discomfort.
“Thank you Touya-san, your story really did help. You’re quite the story teller. I’d love to hear more of them from you.”
“Sure! I always love having a captive audience, it’s the drama queen in me. “
-----
Yagi is the one to find Touya next time.
He finds the younger man pressed in a dark corner under a staircase of all places.
He wouldn’t have even noticed him if he hadn’t heard the soft sound of sniffling, and his heroic heart couldn’t just leave someone that’s so obviously in distress alone.
It's a bit uncomfortable to climb under the staircase to settle next to Touya, listening quietly to his sniffles. It makes his heart squeeze a little and Yagi has to fight the urge to give the younger man a hug.
Touya eventually notices him, big turquoise eyes meeting his own blue ones, there's tears clinging to the corners of his eyes.
“Do you want me to call your nurse Touya-san?”
Touya shakes his head, lips pursing together before he drops his head down onto his arms.
“No. ‘S okay. ‘S nothing they can do. ‘M not allowed any more pain meds until tomorrow.”
The confusion on Yagi’s face has the unscarred parts of Touya’s cheeks flushing.
“I.. had some issues with getting a/ddicted a few years ago. They’ve kept a tighter control on my medications since then. ‘S kay tho. The pain’s not too bad.. I’ll get over it soon.”
“Then.. how about I tell you a story? Let’s see… there was this time when I was in America…”
By the time Yagi reaches the end of his crazy tale Touya’s smiling and laughing, pain forgotten for the moment.
“Honestly Yagi-san! How do you accidentally steal a penguin!”
“Ah well! That’s a mystery not even I know! And I was there!”
The tears on Touya’s cheeks were from laughter this time, and Yagi smiled so softly, a big hand reaching up to gently brush them away from Touya’s cheek.
And Touya /leans/ into his hand, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed into the warm and calloused palm.
Yagi can feel his heart race faster and his ears burn red at the serene face.
“Thank you Yagi-san… will you tell me another one…? It’s.. it’s a good distraction from the pain.”
“Of course Touya-san.”
The two of them spend hours like that, sitting under the dark staircase, Touya eventually leaning against Yagi’s bony shoulder, eyes shut as he listens to the deep voice rumble out tales of his times in America.
It’s how their nurses find them.
They’re practically frantic with worry considering the two have been missing for hours.
They get scolded thoroughly and before they separate Touya wraps one hand around one of Yagi’s own and gives him another one of those smiles that makes the blond’s heart race.
“Let’s have lunch tomorrow Yagi-san.”
“I would love that Touya.”
-----
It becomes a new part of their routine, meeting up together to have lunch.
The both of them were on pretty similar dietary plans, both meals were full of high calorie foods. Yagi explained it was to keep his weight up as he adjusted to the loss of his stomach. While Touya told the blond that his quirk burned through his calories so fast that if he didn’t constantly eat he’d easily end up malnourished.
They end up closer as the days turn into weeks. It wasn’t uncommon to find them together, sitting and chatting, even occasionally finding them leaning against each other, the fatigue taking hold as they napped against each other.
You could say the nurses had a field day with that one and took quite a few pictures. And if Touya and Yagi might’ve asked for their own copies well.. That was their business.
If Yagi had a picture of them tucked into his wallet no one needed to know.
And if Touya had his tucked into his desk drawer, that was for him to know.
Occasionally visitors would come for Yagi, a small old man, a rather plain looking man and occasionally a man he recognized as All Might’s sidekick, Sir Nighteye. Those days he wouldn’t see much of Yagi, his lunches were spent alone in his room craving the presence of the other man.
Yagi asked him about it, the day after he received Sir Nighteye as a guest again, and asked him why his family never seemed to visit him.
Explaining to Yagi that his father didn’t let his siblings come visit was… awkward. The frown that crossed the normally jovial blond’s face at his explanation made Touya feel…. Ashamed? Awkward?
He wasn’t quite sure honestly, but his cheeks burned and he rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to look into those piercing eyes.
So he didn’t notice when Yagi moved closer to him.
Not until those bony arms were wrapping around him, pulling him into a gentle hug, his bony chin resting atop the fluffy white mess that was Touya’s hair.
And Touya just /melted/. He slumped into those arms, cheek rubbing against Yagi’s shirt as he clung to the older man. He could feel the pressure building up in the back of his throat and had to blink back tears.
How long has it been since someone’s held him?
“It’s alright Touya. I’m here.”
The soft voice and warm hands resting on his back, it was enough, and Touya shook in those deceptively strong arms, soft sobs leaving him as his tears soaked into Yagi’s shirt.
They spent hours like that, Touya curled in Yagi’s arms, the blond never letting him go, even when his tears ran dry.
It was so warm.
Touya never wanted to leave his arms.
-----
Then the day came for Touya to be discharged.
He’d stayed in the hospital for over a month now. The skin grafts on his arms had attached properly and had healed enough that he could go home. Fuyumi told Touya that she’d be the one coming to pick him up, Dad was going to be at work and unavailable.
She told him she’d be there after school let out.
Touya felt something sink in his chest as the nurses removed his bandages for the last time. His arms were… hard to look at and he avoided it as he slipped on the loose long sleeved shirt. Touya packed away the few clothes he had, fingers pausing over the picture of him and Yagi sleeping against each other.
His chest squeezed tight at the thought of leaving. He didn’t want to leave the blond man. Ever since that breakdown in his arms Yagi had been so kind, the blond man was always touching him, lingering touches on his hands and shoulders, bringing him into hugs more often.
Touya didn’t want to lose that.
He… didn’t want to lose what connection he had with Yagi.
He didn’t want the blond to forget him.
He….
He liked him.
Touya had to find Yagi before he left.
-----
It wasn’t hard to find him.
When Yagi wasn’t in his room or with his nurses and doctors, it's a safe bet to say he’d be outside relaxing, and he was. Seeing him sitting there made Touya’s stomach flutter and fuck he felt /nervous/.
The smile Yagi gave him when Touya stepped towards him made his heart beat faster, he could feel his palms getting clammy with sweat. Fuck.Touya had never felt like this before. It was.. Overwhelming.
“Touya! It’s good to see you!”
How could one man be so adorable?
“Yagi… you’re.. You’re looking good today.”
Touya could feel the nerves twisting up at his insides as he took the offered seat next to the blond, the hot cup of tea Yagi gently pressed into his hands helped ground him a little. He could do this. He didn’t know if there’d be another chance.
“I’m being discharged today.”
Yagi’s smile shrunk and he sighed deeply, “So soon..? I’m going to miss seeing you. I’ve greatly enjoyed your company here Touya. It’s made my stay much more bearable.”
“Yagi. I…”
Touya trailed off as those bright blue eyes stared into his own, and he couldn’t help himself.
His scarred hands gently cupped sunken in cheeks and Touya leaned up, pressing his lips softly against the older man’s, just a soft press of their lips that made Touya’s stomach flip flop in joy and dread.
“Yagi, I really like you.”
Yagi’s stunned silence filled the small courtyard, beautiful blue eyes wide with surprise as a bright flush grew across the tops of his cheeks.
Touya thought he looked gorgeous.
“I. Well, I ah, I’m flattered Touya but.. I am many years older than you. I’m older than your father.”
/That wasn’t a no./
“So what? I don’t care about that Yagi. You /know/ that. I like you. I really really like you. I want to spend more time with you Yagi. I want, I want to hold your hand, I want to kiss you again, I want to eventually take you out on dates. I. If you really don’t, feel like that. It’s /okay/. I just. Fuck-”
He was rambling, his eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping his pants. Touya couldn’t put into words all the things he wanted. He just.. Wanted Yagi.
Larger hands gently wrapped around his own and Touya blinked watery eyes up, and Yagi was much closer now, mouth quirked in a small smile that made the white haired man’s stomach flip pleasantly.
“Touya. Is this.. Do you really want this?”
“/Yes/.”
And those lips were pressing to his again and the dread in his stomach disappeared as those big hands held him so gently, like he was something fragile and /precious/, and Touya clung to the taller man, pressing kiss after kiss to his mouth.
By the time they stopped they were both flushed and panting, lips swollen and wide smiles on their faces.
“Well then, I suppose you should call me Toshinori now.”
Touya laughed and kissed the man again.
“Whatever you say Toshi.”
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