#cause hair on legs = insanely itchy and i hate it

[yandere-sins]

Surprise

Some more threatening not-related-stepbrother, you say? Here you go! :D

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Stepbrother x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Violence, Hinting at sexual acts, Blood Mention, Reader being tied up (Rope), Gagged, Locked in a closet, Death Hinted

Prompt: “Well, the usual methods didn’t work, so…” - An escalation. What do those above want from the one below, and what will they do to get it? @sintember

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

“Aw, don’t look at me like that!”

Judging by that phrase alone, he could read your expression like an open book. It was insanely frustrating not to be able to voice your thoughts, and though you had to bite your tongue more than you wanted in front of your parents, this was a whole new level of insanity. You were glaring furiously at your stepbrother, the makeshift gag in your mouth consisting of a rag and rope the only thing keeping you from screaming at your lung’s full capacity.

You hated him! You hated him so much. How dare he put you into this position!

Even without saying these thoughts out loud, your brother made the slightest shiver as if he heard the screams in your mind, shrugging it off casually. “I told you not to go see your friend without me. I warned you.” He said it as if you should be thankful to him for stringing you up, restraining your arms behind your back, and your legs closed together with even more rope that he had ‘laying around’.

“Come on now,” he scolded you gently as you wouldn’t stop furrowing your brows, glaring at him since it was the only thing you could still do. Leaning down towards you, you stretched your neck to the side, wanting your face as far away from his as possible. A chuckle escaped him as he hooked his hands under your arms, lifting you from the floor of his room and dragging you back into the wall closet. Realizing where this was going, you struggled, throwing your weight left and right as best as you could, growing more frantic by the second.

He had plastered the floor inside the closet with clothes, a mix of his and, much to your chagrin, yours. At least it was a gentle fall as he let go with a small “Uff,” and you could have rolled your eyes at the subtle dig at you. Not like your weight seemed to really bother him, and he picked you up just fine as well. Inside, it smelled too much like him, the scent enveloping you from all sides. Some of his clothes hung from a rod, falling into your face and tickling it, and you had no chance of scratching the itchy skin it caused. Pulling up your legs, he squeezed them inside with you, and you complained as best as you could about the treatment, but he just petted your head, combing through your hair.

“I have a surprise for you today,” he cooed, looking at you as if you were a cute animal rather than his unofficial stepsibling he just tied up and forced into his closet. Adoration and gentle affection gleamed in his eyes. It made you feel nauseous that even after all you two had been through, his version of your relationship and yours were still on the opposite sides of a scale, never to be balanced. You hated him, but your gut told you he loved you.

He was fucking insane. That was the only thing you could be sure of.

With a sly grin, he stood up again from crouching next to you, slowly closing the closet doors while you squirmed, screaming into the gag. Regardless, he merely hushed you gently, making you wish you could have punched that grin off his face. But there was nothing you could do.

You could see the wall clock ticking away through the gaps in the closet doors while your stepbrother sat down on his bed, never averting his gaze from you even now. It was almost an hour after the meeting time you told your best friend. And you were never too late. Surely he must have noticed!

Like an act of mercy, someone knocked at your stepbro’s door, and he gave you a nod that was supposed to say as much as, “Be quiet,” while he grabbed a magazine from the floor, settling back in his bed like he was relaxing. “Come in!” he called, flipping through the pages leisurely, only looking up as the person entered.

There he was. Your best friend in the whole wide world!

Your savior, the only one that believed you when you told him about your strange new stepsibling. Your heart jumped with joy, and you wiggled some more, hoping to draw your friend’s attention so he could get you out of this situation. “Sorry to bother…” he mumbled, looking around nervously. He was in the enemy’s territory and had all the right to be cautious.

“Do you know where [Name] is? We were supposed to meet up.”

“No idea. Did you call them?” your stepbrother replied casually. As if he hadn’t locked you up in his closet! Knowing exactly where you were!

Struggling some more, you screamed as loud and long as you could into the gag, and your best friend pivoted, scanning the room. He really was your knight in shining armor, and you felt the tears rise in your eyes as you realized he had a hunch. The two guys glanced between each other, your stepbrother flipping to the next page but not reading the article when all the eyes in the room fell to the closet door as you smashed your knees into it. Your best friend grew angry as he stared at your brother, who only shrugged. Next thing you knew, he marched to the closet, opening the doors.

“You fucking sicko! Did you lock them inside your closet?!” your best friend muttered under his breath, his voice raising from the frustrations as he knelt down and tore at your ropes, trying to find the knots keeping them together. Sighing, your stepbrother got up from his bed, focusing his attention solely on you while your friend worked to release you. “Well, the usual methods to keep them home didn’t work. I didn’t really have much choice here.”

“So you thought it was a good idea to tie them up and lock them away? What kind of psycho would do that?!”

“I really hate your friends,” your brother mumbled poutedly after a brief pause, and you glared at him again. “Can’t you see I am trying to save you? Trying to keep you away from bastards like him-” he pointed at your best friend, “-who just want to use you?”

Your stepbrother prowled closer, and you screamed some more into the gag while his face darkened, eyes fixating on your friend now, who frantically worked on the rope that was tightly secured with much too many knots. “He calls me sick, but he’d be in your pants the moment you don’t look at him. I am just trying to protect you, [Name]!”

Honoring your brother’s nonsense with only a huff, your best friend was a much nicer person than you, who undoubtedly would have released a tirade of insults at your brother. “I think it’s you who’d like to have something you can’t possess, Buddy. Must be driving you crazy that you can’t have them.” The teasing words of your friend seemed to hit home as your brother’s expression shifted from cold to dangerously angry. You were delighted to let him taste some of his own medicine, feeling so, so proud of your friend and thankful that he was standing up for you against this monster.

But your world slowed as something broad and shiny appeared in your vision, your stepbrother making it appear out of seemingly nowhere. Against the ceiling light, it was hard to see at first, but when he raised it over his head, you could see the shape of a frying pan, round, iron, and deadly. Every warning you could have uttered was too late, your muffled screams and kicks not drawing your friend’s attention fast enough.

The awful sound of iron against bone echoed in the room before your best friend groaned, sinking to the floor. You screamed, tears breaking out of your eyes as you hunched over, trying to get to him. Even if it was barely possible, you wanted to check on your friend, make sure he was okay! But your stepbrother merely huffed, rolling his eyes before picking you back up and shoving you back into the closet.

“You’re not safe with anyone but me, do you understand that now?” he asked, clipping your chin with his fingers before lifting and forcing you to meet his eyes. Your glare was weakened by your tears, but you still had enough fight left in you to wring your head out of his hand and try to kick his shin. “Fine!” he declared, throwing his hands in the air as if you were accusing him of being unreasonable.

“But the sooner you understand it…” He leaned down, gripping your best friend’s hair and forcing his head up to show you. There was little to no sign of life in the comatose expression on your best friend’s face, skin being pulled taught by your stepbrother’s grip. Bringing one hand down to your friend’s neck, he drew his thumb along his throat in a threatening gesture. “The less people need to get hurt because of you, got it?”

All you could do was stare at your friend, slowly beginning to nod before your movement grew frantic. Hoping your stepbrother didn’t mean it. That it was just a joke like he had made with your parents before. The smile returned to your brother’s face, and he sighed in relief as if a burden was falling off his shoulders. “Awesome!” he chimed, stepping towards the closet and closing the doors slowly. “Be good now while I’m gone. There’s something I have to… take care of.”

You felt the blood drain from your face as you returned to frantically thrashing and screaming, having to watch as your brother picked up your friend and threw him over his shoulder. Bringing his pointer to his lips, he signaled for you to be quiet before leaving your line of sight, and you heard his door falling into the lock behind him as he left the room as well.

Afraid and scared, you continued screaming for a long time.

But no one came.

And as the hours passed by, you fell asleep, not noticing your brother’s return as he made no sound until he stood in front of the closet, grinning from ear to ear as he saw your defenseless form dozing in a pile of his dirty clothes. If he was fast enough, he’d be able to have a shower unnoticed by you and pull you into his bed before you woke up and caused a scene again.

He just didn’t want your best friend’s blood on you. That guy would never bother you or your stepbrother ever again and shouldn’t sully your flawless body with his gore. Now you really were all his.

Hopefully, you liked the surprise he arranged for you.

He, at least, loved knowing no one was getting in his way anymore.

#Sintember 2022 #Step-Yandere #yandere step-sibling #yandere!step-sibling #yandere sibling #yandere!sibling #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #OW

[supa-suckers]

Can you do Zoom zahir .

Zoom Zahir

General Headcanons:

Old money.

Dosen't even need to say it because despite his outragous hair style (and the matching personality) he carries himself in a way that only those born with a silver spoon in their mouths do.

Has a thing for rough-welded jewlery that he can tell apart by the diffrent feel of it.

His family is the italian mafia stereotype -expect y'know not italian- so he's used to people pulling insane shit to win, no need to say he's more than well equiped to deal with his manager.

Actually hates the fancy collar of the Sultans jersey, it's itchy, it's weird, it catches sweat, do i need to say more? And he also really dosen't like the color. like green? Pop off, but why that disgusting shade???

Loves Van Gogh, got gifted a few original painting of his throughout the years.

Really into swimming but only in pools 'cause he's scared of sea-life, god forbid the Hydra players find out.

Hates wine can't explain why, he just does, loves fancy pasta doe.

Has easy-going, at-arms-lenght relationships with most of his teammates safe for the goalie who for some reason he's really close to.

Gets jet-leg so bad he once almost fell down the plane stairs infront of live press.

Collects snobby Super League memorobilia.

Wears Fougere Royale, his dad passed him down an original unopened bottle.

#supa strikas #scottyz stuff #supa strikas hcs #supa strikas moodboard #supa strikas zoom zahir #zoom zahir #supa strikas sultans

[ileaveclawmarks]

different anon here but I just want to say I genuinely appreciate how unapologetic and confident you are about ur body hair especially as someone who is attracted to women with body hair and as someone who prefers to not shave but feels pressured to due to societal norms and what not idk I guess I'm just wondering how you like got over/ stopped caring about what other people think cause that's what's difficult for me :/

Thats literally everything i want to hear. i love doing this cuz not only is the insane excess body hairy a huge automatic dyke magnet that i dont even have to put any work into, but also because for every 10 people who look at me with revulsion theres always 1 person who thinks … maybe i can also have the confidence to do that. Thats my revolution. okay this ones gonna be long so hit that read more

So. when i was a novice non-shaver going out in public with even just a sliver of hairy leg showing literally gripped me in fear, like panic stricken burning fear. It was insane and pathetic and ridiculous how disabling this terror was over such a stupid arbitrary thing. I used 2 have repetitive nightmares about it, just the sickest dread terror imaginable. LMFAO.

If ur gonna ask how to get over that fear the straight answer is u cant, not fully. This is the product of some serious conditioning and socialization that has been at work since u were born. like it doesnt just go away. Even i havent gotten over it, like sometimes i seriously struggle with it. U can definitely get used to it though. I prefer to not shave and feel that everyday terror over shaving. And ill tell u why, so u can approach it with the same reasoning.

first of all i hated the physical act of shaving, really fckin hated waxing, every hair removal method is either painful, time consuming or expensive. And its worthless anyways because ur stubble is back in by the next morning. Who benefits?? and what are the consequences? I am making my body unnatural, conformist, and alien to me through a tedious and painful process. why do i harm myself in this way? Why put my psyche thru this? why is my body wrong in its natural state? what happens if i DONT shave?

and this is the crux of the matter: NOTHING HAPPENS. Other than the fact that it creates this fear, there is NO consequence to not shaving. In general no one will care and no one will treat you any different. Nothing will change in your daily life. you may likely get stares or rude comments from strangers on occasion but at the end of the day those things dont really matter. They seriously dont matter at all. Let go of the need to be judged correctly by all strangers. These people are fleeting milliseconds of your life. Remember this every time u go out.

and u must go out ... in this case exposure therapy really does work. Theres literally nothing else 2 do but go out unshaved. Just force urself over and over. Just do it. Do it until u dont even realize anymore. The day will come! U wont even notice it until ur looking at the women around u in public and u find it strange to see them hairless. On this day u will revel in ur shavelessness. Thank god u dont look like the prepubescent pedophilic fantasy that the mans world wants u to look like. U will view it with revulsion and horror, the idea of making urself into a little hairless girl to emulate their sick pornography and obsession with fucking literal minors. Never again!!!! This is where the revolution starts!!!

and i will tell u now. Once u finally grow out ur leg hair and theres no stubble or itchiness left it is going to feel so nice. Stroke it nd shit, for real. This is important. Look at it with luv. If you cant do that, look at it with neutrality. GET USED 2 ITS PRESENCE ... this is ur one and only body.

Now, if u can, find urself a group of women or lesbians who also dont shave. Look for urself in them and feel comforted by the fact that u wont b judged here. Get ur mind used to the NORMALCY of body hair. If ur lucky u might have other lesbian or even just alternative friends who find your body hair sexy or are jealous of ur confidence in growing it out. HUGE EGO BOOST! Take it when u can find it. This one helped me a lot because i am a natural attention whore and narcissist.

And besides if ur anything like me in that u fucking hate males with a militant blood boiling violent rage, then u might also remind urself: the struggle you face over your body hair is ABSENT in all the men that you see around you. Absent. Never there and never will be. what gives them the right and not me? They live their lives so mindlessly free of any of this. Dont shave your legs cuz … fuck em, thats why!!! 🗣 Show those sick mfers. Dyke revolution by just walking down the street and being comfortable in ur own skin. Love the strange looks that u get in public. Fuck them!!!

So thats how i mostly stopped caring about being unshaven, kind of a mix of acknowledging how stupid it is to do so as well as a bit of exposure therapy, community, and good old dyke hatred and cynicism. Remember that every time you go out you are showing other women that this is a possibility for them too. I hope this little guide gave u some inspiration for the future. I appreciate how hard it is to stop shaving but honestly once u do stop its even harder to start doing it again. Good luck and i wish u all the strength, drive, confidence and attitude u r going 2 need. And if u ever want to talk more about it im always right here at ileaveclawmarks on tumblr.com ... 🤍🤍🤍

[junisfics]

Hate Fucking ft Eren Jaeger (Day XV)

Focus: Hate Fucking

Warnings: Smut / Nsfw 18 + (Rough Sex), Brief Violence (Blood, Asphyxiation)

Word Count: 2k

You could kill him.

That impulsive, hate ridden, destructive maniac. You want to rip his throat out with your teeth.

Your jaw is clenched tightly, eyebrows furrowed together in anger, as you sit beside Sasha and across from Connie. They chatter nonsense as you eye him down from across the room.

Just hours ago he had taken out all his pent up anger by mercilessly insulting you after your defeat during training. Although wasn't for the reason one would think.

He had you pinned to grass bare dirt, knee pressing into your right arm and opposite foot pressing painfully into your right wrist. The tendons in your forearms rapping up against the sole of his shoe like the strings on a guitar.

His knife held against your throat, every swallow you take causing it to bob gently. His other hand bracing him up by the ground beside your skull, preventing him from sitting on your upper stomach.

"Get off me." You spit, writhing beneath his unexpectedly heavy body.

You speak with your eyes boring into his own. His brows knit together, beads of sweat trailing down his dirt covered face.

"You couldn't even give it your best for me?! You're going easy?! Piece of shit!" He practically growls, pushing the knife further against your quivering throat to enunciate the expletive.

He hates the way you distract him. Never did it cross his mind that you didn't give him your all, it was only the most convincing excuse he could come up with. He despises you for the way your innocent eyes glint as you look at him, and he hates you more for the uncertain lust that lures behind them as he has you pinned beneath him.

"Eren, I'm not - I didn't - get - you're hurting me,"

Recklessly, he throws the knife aside, causing the blade to slit a shallow cut against the fragile skin of your neck. It stings, assumingly more than a deeper cut would have. His large hand replaces the blade, his sweat poisons the wound and sending harsh waves of prickly pain through your body, he squeezes... hard.

Pathetic croaks slip under his palm and past your lips, blood rushing to your face and a deep buzz filling your ears.

Your limbs flail in response, desperately trying to shake him off.

His nose is scrunched, teeth grit into a snarl, face inches away from yours as he alternates the pressure on your neck.

Hard, bruising, enough to threaten unconscious, but before that can happen his grip goes soft enough to give you a moment of uninterrupted breaths. All the time while looking into your fearful eyes, like he's waiting for the light to go out.

You hated the way your body heated up under his dominance. You can't blame yourself, who wouldn't feel at least a twinge of excitement when pressed that closely up against a guy that attractive.

"Eren - p - please, I can't - I" You're voice is hoarse, tears flooding your vision.

He's tackled off. You sit up quickly, hands go flying to your abused throat, clutching and clawing at it mindlessly as you swallow heavy gulps of air. Sasha's by your side, squatting back on her calves with an arm thrown around your heaving shoulders.

Connie throws violent punches to Eren's face as he presses his skull into the dirt with his other hand.

His face bruised, Connie's fist split open a gash in his cheekbone. His pretty green eyes surrounded by popped blood vessels.

You admire his wounds from your table, completely disregarding your dinner and pushing it to Sasha. You go as far as thinking he's pretty... when his mouth is shut. Such a shame that such a handsome face is attached to a shitty person.

"Connie took care of him, y/n, he won't bother you again." Sasha says through the bread stuffing her mouth.

"He's just... an angry person."

***

You shower off the emulsion of sweat and blood that's covering your skin. Scrubbing so harshly with the tattered rag that red welts leave in its wake. The gash on your throat pulses and stings but your glad it's clean.

The itchy fabric of your shirt clings to your damp skin, the now cold water in your hair drips down your your chest as you squeeze it in your fist to wring it out. Legs guiding you back to your room.

Before you can completely retreat, the door gets pushed open as you attempt to close it.

"Hey -" Your mouth shuts immediately.

Eren enters shamelessly, shutting the door behind him as you back away slowly. Your heart wracks against your chest, breath caught once again in your throat no thanks to him.

He's come to finish you off, he's got you alone and now he's come to pummel you into next year.

His hand grips your jaw to avoid the slit on your throat, pressing your cheeks together so your lips pucker ever so slightly. You reach up to his wrist, reaching for sinewy muscle that strains under his grasp.

His eyes look down to you, a dangerous look passing through them momentarily. His face too close for comfort, his hot breath passing through his grit teeth and fanning over your face.

He walks forward, sending you stumbling back against the closed door.

You feel embarrassingly helpless before him. You pray he can't feel the shaking in your legs.

If he starts getting violent will someone know? Will someone hear? Would there be anyone to stop him this time?

"I fucking hate you." He spits, leaning against you and resting his palm against the wood of the door beside your head, "I think about killing you every fucking day we're stuck in this stupid cottage."

Your stomach turns at his words, but you have no courage to speak out against him. Something inside you tells you to listen to him... to wait.

"You drive me insane"

"Eren -" You speak through puckered lips, one hand holding his wrist and the other pushing against his chest.

Whimpers leave your mouth, desperate cries for him to release you, leave you, apologize, something.

"Fuck - " His voice falters for a moment and his jaw slacks as he glances down to the floor, "Do you know what you do?"

His eyes meet yours, the gears in your head begin to turn. They're softer this time, apologetic.

"I - I don't - please, Eren - I don't know what - "

"Stop begging, fucking stop," He closes his eyes tightly as the hand on the door drops to the field of skin between your neck and shoulder.

He squeezes tightly, desperately trying to restrain himself.

"You're so god damn lucky my need for you is stronger then my hate." His face gets too close to quickly, leaning down so your noses are a breath apart, "because I hate you so fucking much."

It's not your stomach that turns within itself this time, it's something else... something lower. All of a sudden his grip is erotic and his body heat is radiating onto yours in all the right places. He's so close, the tension is straining.

"I - I'm - " You're stupid. You can't even think. Your entire body short circuits.

"Let me have you." He begs, voice needy and dropping octaves lower.

He begs.

You mouth drops open as arousal sparks deep inside you. A shudder wracks your body at his words.

"I know you want it. I see it. G - god, fuck, please y/n." Both hands come to hold your face in his hands, "I hate the things you do to me."

His hips stutter forward against your stomach and you can feel him, hard, throbbing in his pants. A whine escapes your lips.

It's pathetic... embarassing... how much you want him. How much you want the man that constantly dances on your last nerve to take you in his strong hands.

"I hate you." Your voice is weak and unconvincing to both him and you.

His mouth takes yours, swallowing your whimpers and flooding you with him. You taste him on your tongue, dull taste of mint toothpaste and herbal tea. You're drunk for it. Hands gripping at the collar of his shirt to pull his toned body flush against you. It's borderline violent, his tongue drinking in your breathy moans and teeth biting at your lips.

You need him. You need this. You need this feeling, this tension, flooded out of your system and gone for good. You want it fucked out of you.

You push against his neck to give you enough space to mumble against his soft lips, "I need you to fuck me, fuck me as hard as you hate me, please."

His cock twitches, jaw dropping at your desperation. A groan choked up in his throat.

You lick at his open mouth and he takes it in his mouth and sucks on it. Never, never in your entire life would you have thought your cunt would flutter around nothing due to someone taking your tongue in their mouth.

He lowers himself into a squat, taking the waistband of your sleeping pants and dragging them down your thighs, biting at the supple skin that's revealed. His calloused hands hold onto your legs as he licks a broad stripe up your inner left leg all the way up to your hip bone.

You let out a breathy moan as he kitten licks at your clit through your panties.

"No, please, I need you - need your cock." You plead and he lets out a curse as he stands.

You kiss him again. Hands grabbing at his torso to get a hold on the waistline of his pants. He follows you, using one hand to press your chest against the door and the other pushing his clothes down his thighs just enough so his aching cock is freed.

Roughly, he grips the backs of your thighs and hoists them around his waist. Cock slipping between your bodies and brushing against your clothed cunt. Pushing you high enough up the door to take his length in his hand, you pull your panties to the side. His tip teases your entrance. You're sheathed onto his length, filthily moaning out as his cock drags across your walls.

"Fucking shit." He groans into your neck, "You're so wet, you're so fucking wet."

It's overwhelming. The flexing of his muscles underneath your grip, his low groans against your skin followed by open mouth kisses. You bite down on your lip, walls fluttering around his throbbing cock in reaction to his words.

"Oh my god, y/n. Did you just cum?"

You did.

You're cunt gripping his dick like a vice. You came just as he buried himself to the hilt. His tip kissing your cervix gently.

"Give me another." You beg, fisting his shirt tighter in your fist.

You're fucked into the door, shirt riding up as you're dragged up and down the both literal and figurative wood.

"You - Eren - you're so big." Your grip on his shoulders is bruising, arms wrap around his neck and forehead falling against his, mouth open in heavy pants.

"You're so pretty like this. God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this. How long I've been conflicted by you. I've fucked my hand to your pretty face every fucking night wishing it was your cunt."

You can't believe it. This whole time he hasn't hated you for anything you've done... he's hated you because he was hating the way you made him feel. You're cunt throbs around him at the mere thought.

"And now... fuck - fuck - just like that - now I have you... and my cock is inside you and not my fucking fist."

You came harder then you ever have before, head slamming back against the door and legs shaking as you suck him in and milk him dry. He slams you down one more time onto his cock and holds you there, throbbing inside you.

#eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #aot smut #twenty five days of smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #tw: blood #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut #eren smut #3k

[allegra-writes]

Peter Parker NSFW Alphabet

Hi! Could I please please please get a cute and a NSFW alphabet with Peter? Thanks!💕

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s the most tender and thoughtful of lovers. He just loves to lay in bed with you in his arms for hours, just holding you close, and caressing your back or your arms or any part of your body he can reach, really. He could spend entire days and nights like that, just laying next to your naked form, tangling his finger with yours and talking. His pillow talk is the most interesting too, he can talk about everything from quantum physics and the intricacies of how gravity bends space-time to how Brussel’s sprouts are just basically fun sized cabbages.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s not one for vanity and he actually kinda doesn’t like how bulky he’s gotten since that spider bite years ago. But he likes that he it made him strong. He likes being strong to protect you, and even to help you with domestic, ordinary things, like moving your couch up four flight of stairs to your dorm room. And of course, he loves being strong enough be able to carry you and hold you up with just one arm without any effort, to fuck you standing up without needing a wall for support.

His favorite body part of yours are your legs and where they lead: he loves your feet, your calves, your strong thighs, your gorgeous butt and… well, you can guess. He loves having those legs around him, either while he pounds into you, or while he carries you swinging on his webs across New York, or making out with you sitting on the kitchen counter while he stands between them. He just loves how he fits perfectly there, like that’s where he belongs.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves to mark you, he loves physical manifestations of you being his. But he hates to hurt you, and he refuses to leave lasting marks like hickeys -that, admittedly, are pretty painful because of his super strength- and bruises on purpose, that’s just out of question for him.

So, the alternative he so creatively found, is to mark you with his come. He still loves to come inside you, but pulling out just in time and paint your chest, your belly or your butt in white ribbons just drives him crazy

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has heightened senses, and his sense of smell is no exception. He has an unconfirmed theory that he can perceive pheromones, at least on some level. Specifically, human pheromones. More specifically, yours.

He thinks that because your perfume drives him insane. Not like the bottled perfume you use when you guys go on dates, but your natural scent. It smells like home. It smells like mate.

It’s just so animalistic, so feral that he would never tell you, but sometimes, when you are away, he buries his face on your pillow or your clothes, and gets himself off like that, solely on the smell of you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

While he is not underage, thank you very much, he is young. So he’s had some experience but not a lot.

However, he is a fast learner, and pleasuring you is a fascinating subject for him. He painstakingly catalogs and commits your reactions to memory, and quickly becomes an expert on you and what you like.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

As mentioned before, he loves having you wrapped around him, so the lotus, missionary, standing up or up against a wall, anything with a lot of skin on skin contact.

Positions like doggy style, the necklace of Venus, etc, just don’t feel close enough. He wants intimacy, he wants to look at you in the eyes when he makes you fall apart, he wants to bury himself deep into you, he wants as much of you as he can get.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Not as much goofy as he is playful; he likes to make you smile and he likes to have fun in bed, but it’s sex, it’s not stand up comedy.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He shaved everything off once. It was itchy and miserable and he’s NOT doing that again. Like, ever.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Peter Parker wears his heart on his sleeve. The bedroom is not exception. What he feels for you is deep, it’s fiery, it’s all consuming, and it translates into meaningful, intense sex. Even when he fucks you roughly it still is making love, because he loves you and he just can’t hide it or turn it off. Not that you would want him to, anyway.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

His sex drive is quite high, so he masturbates a couple times a day if you are not near or simply not in the mood.

K= Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Don’t let those big brown innocent eyes fool you, he is a kinky bastard.

In real life he respects -and actually loves- your independence, and how powerful and empowered you are. But in bed, his possessive streak is released. He loves to dominate you, call you his own, make you beg. More than once he webbed your hands to the headboard, or tied you up in beautiful, intricate kinbaku or shibari designs using his web.

He also has a huge praise kink, always telling you how beautiful you are, how good you are, how perfect for him. He calls you his Queen. And it goes both ways, because he is such a sucker for you telling him how great he is, how good he feels. It’s not exactly dirty talk, but it’s hot non the less.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

While any place he can get you alone is good enough for a hot make out session, for the actual sex he prefers the bedroom. Or anywhere in your apartment, as long as he can be sure you two are alone and not likely to get interrupted. He’s NOT into exhibitionism or public sex, he can’t stand the risk of someone walking in and accidentally see you like this. He respects you too much for that.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You are his biggest turn on. Your body, the way you move, the helpless little moans you make when he hits that spot… yeah, he doesn’t need anything else to get him going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t ever endanger you or hurt you in anyway. He could never stand to cause you pain. So nothing like breath play, or spanking, etc. Even when he plays with ropes (or webs), he’s always making sure you are ok. Your safety is the most important thing for him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He is a giver, his greatest pride is to make you fall apart. Add to that the way the taste of you drives him wild and, well… He could -and have- spend hours between your legs.

He is not as much into receiving it because he’s afraid of loosing control and hurt you by pounding into your mouth too roughly (sometimes having super strength can have disadvantages), but you will convince him of indulging in it every once in a while.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be both, it truly just depends on his mood at the moment.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He is more of a fan of long marathon sex sessions, he likes to be able to take his time and have his way with you as he pleases. But you both are busy individuals and sometimes, when you have been separated by long periods of time (Like, a week. Hey, it’s a long time for him!), His aching for you get to be too much, and he’ll take you anyway he can. At those times is urgent, and passionate, and frenzied and just so hot!

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s curious, definitely would try anything once, as long as it’s safe for you of course.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

There’s a reason he likes marathon sex, he has the stamina to go for hours, maybe even days. Anything shorter can appease him but won’t fully satiate his hunger for you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s extremely creative and good at using everyday objects as toys. In his talented hands, an electric toothbrush or a snake venom extractor can become the perfect tool for the most exquisite torture.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease you to the point of it being almost unbearable, until you are a moaning, begging mess. Then and only then will he give in to you. And to his own need, because the truth is he wants you just as badly and desperately, he just has slightly better control.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Peter is a very expressive guy, and it’s no different in bed. He makes the hottest (and horniest) faces during sex, and yes, the hottest sounds too. Starting with little moans and growls at the beginning, as his pleasure increases so does his volume. He can get very loud when he comes, and you always can tell when he is close because he swears a lot.

You love it, because it makes it so easy to know when he likes something, and makes you feel so powerful, even in your more submissive roll, to know it’s you the one that’s making him feel so good, the one he wants so badly that it almost physically hurts.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He is a great photographer, he has an aesthetic Instagram he is quite proud of. But by far his best work, at least according to him, is the huge collection of pictures he has of you.

Always analogic, he takes the time to develop the film himself, at home. And not just because of his love of old school photography, but because even if most of them are artistic close ups and compositions, some of them are just filthy and unadulterated porn. And in all of them you are very clearly naked.

And he’s a smart guy, he knows just how easily a device or system can be hacked, so there is no way he is taking any chances of exposing you like that by being dumb enough to have any image of you in digital format. No, that’s a show for his eyes only.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

The spider bite that gave him those drool worthy biceps and lickable abs, gave him… other… mouthwatering… assets. Impressive assets.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

To misquote Dr. Banner, that’s Peter’s secret: He always wants you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s highly energetic so it takes a lot to wear him out. And I mean a lot. But afterwards, he has the most restful sleep, secure in the knowledge that the most important thing in the world to him, is protected and sleeping in his arms.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker hot #tom holland hot #tom holland imagine

[bodyswapmischief]

The Interview

(Although not a part 2. This story is linked to The promotion) 

If you can believe it ... before today, my body looked completely different. I was ... for the most part hairless. And that worked for me. It showed off the curves of my muscles. My six pack, biceps, and chest glistened after every work out. But, now everything changed.

It all started because, I really needed a job. I applied to everything  I could find. But, no one ever called back. Until I got a call from Transform Inc. They were a really big company, in the city. I didn't even think I applied to them. I knew it was a mistake. But, never turn down an opportunity... or so I thought.

The day of the interview, I dressed in my best. I wore well fitted slacks and dress shirt. It hugged my body and outlined my well earn muscles. I hope I was interviewed by a woman or gay man. I might not be the smartest person or have the most experience, but with my body I could seduce the pants off of anyone.

Reaching the building, I quickly realized I was out of my league, job-wise. I went up the elevator and was immediately greeted by a lady, at the front desk. She was insanely attractive and led me through the office. As we walked, I started noticing the people in the office. All the women were attractive, and the men would have been too, if they were in better shape. They had a range of different size bellies. From a little bloated to full size beer belly.

I finally reached the office. "Your interview will be held in there." She said, as she walked away. I walked in and saw the biggest fattest guy in the office. He seemed stressed and tired. His face seemed young, but the weight added age to him. His beach ball belly rested on his lap and pushed against his small desk. His dress shirt struggled to contain his stomach and his equally large pair of fat boobs. His beard hid what I could only imagine was a double chin. He looked at me, like he was caught of guard. "Oh, please take a seat." He said as he clean off his desk. On his desk was a salad and a water bottle. I laughed in my head (Yeah like that's gonna help you, fat ass). His name plate read: Steven Fuller. (Yup the name fits) I continued to laugh to myself.

I sat down, keeping my eyes on the big fat blob of a man, in front of me. He was gross and every part of me hated him, for doing that to his body. I was snapped back to the present with the creaking of his chair, as he moved. It was screaming to get this fat-ass of it. He was also looking at me. Checking my body out, but trying not to get caught. He started looking for something, but stopped as his face turned red, from embarrassment. He lifted up his massive gut and pulled out a file. "I forgot, I put this on my lap before my lunch." He shyly said.

I started laughing. The comedy of this fat pig in front of me was just to much to take. He looked hurt by my reaction. "Yeah, kid don't get fat ... it sucks." He weakly smiled, as he started reading the file. "Don't worry I won't" I winked. He immediately puts down the file and looks at me, straight into my eyes. "Do you care about your body?" I was thrown back a bit. "Yeah ..." I replied confused. "Then this is not the job for you. I recommend leaving now." he starts to put the file away. "But ... look...I'm sorry I laughed... it's just..." I tried to explain. He looked at me, "No ... you look, I know you. I've been you. In fact my body was in better shape then yours and now look at me. I am ... begging you, just walk out that door and leave."

I lost it and everything I felt just came out. "I'm sorry you don't like what you did to your fat ass body, but I am not you." I started flexing under my shirt. "You wished you had this body. But, you can't. That gut is massive and no amount of salad is going to change that." Anger filled his eyes. But, suddenly the door opened and an older man walked in. His body made of muscle, which made him look younger than he probably was. "Hello, I'm Thomas Sterling and I will be finishing the interview, in my office." He motioned for me to follow. I turned to look at Mr. Fuller. He shook his head in disappointment.

We reached Mr. Sterling's office and sat down. "I'm sorry about that." Sterling said "He shouldn't have told you to leave." His powerful arms pulled out a box. "Well, he hasn't been the first person to be jealous of my body." I said. "Oh, and you do have a good strong body. 7% body fat?" He laughed in delight. The way he talked about my body was making me nervous. But, his tone was soothing. "No ... 5%" I answered. He opened the box and revealed doughnuts. "Here take one." He whispered. "I shouldn't." I said looking at the doughnuts. "Just one won't hurt." He said. I took one and bit into it. Blue filling gushed into my mouth. It tasted so sweet and good. Sterling smiled.

Slowly my stomach felt bloated and pushed against my shirt. (I did have a big breakfast) I thought to myself. "You have the job." He smiled. He quickly got up to get some paper work. The muscles under his clothes, showing off with every move. I wanted to be like him when I got older. "Help yourself to another doughnut, in celebration," he cheered. And, I did. My shirt and pants started feeling tighter. A tingling sensation started spreading through my chest.

"Sign these papers and you can start working tomorrow." I quickly signed, every paper. "Good, Good, Good ... I'm happy to know your happy with getting as fat as I want you to." My throat choke up a bit. I looked down and saw what was happening to my body. My pants were skin tight as they squeezed my legs. My softer chest was squeezed by the now tighter shirt. My flabby stomach was peeking out of my straining buttons. "What the Fuck! What happened to me." I screamed.

Sterling laughed. "It's all part of the contract." He brought out a syringe of blue liquid and injected it into a doughnut. "You will eat 3 of these donuts every month, and gain 5 pounds of permanent fat, for each. For every 5 pounds you will be paid 10,000 dollars. That will be 30,000 a month. This will go on for a year. Then you will have an option of staying on and getting promoted or leaving the company, if you wish. If you do stay on, you will be paid 100o times your weight per year. It was written down on those paper, you signed."

"You can't do this. I quit! These documents won't hold in court." I cried out. "Aw, I thought this might happen. That's why I created this new formula. It will make you more obedient. Now, finish the last doughnut for the month." He said as he handed me the freshly injected doughnut. My hand grabbed it on its own and brought it closer to my mouth. I scream for it to stop. But my hand forced it in my mouth. As soon as the blue goo reached my tongue, I started unwilling chewing. It really was the best thing I ever eaten. I felt the effects immediately take place. My expanding ass caused my pants to rip. The buttons on my shirt popped, as my belly jiggled, now having space to expand and sit in it's full size. My skin became itchy has my hairless body started sporting hair everywhere I could and couldn't see.

"Oh, that's a side effect, I haven't worked out yet. But, I can't say it doesn't make me happy. Now my bear in training go home and get some rest, because tomorrow you start work. And let's keep this contract our little secret." He smiled at me. I started walking out and bumped into Mr. Fuller, waiting right outside. My eyes red from wanting to cry. "Before you leave ... you should come to my office." I followed him. By the way he wasn't freaking out, I already knew that he understood what went on.

He helped sneak me into his office so, no one saw me. Once there, he pulled out some clothes. "Here these should fit you." He said. "Why are you doing this." I said with a shaky voice. "I was mean to you ... I got what I deserved, maybe worse." I felt embarrassed, changing my clothes in front of him. I hated showing off the new fat rolls that I could feel on my body. "You aren’t the only one that made a deal with that devil. I wasn't lying. I was like you. About 180 pounds of  pure muscle. In my first deal, I shot up to about 270. With a little more convincing, he has me at 300 pounds." He said rubbing his swollen stomach.

The numbers started running through my head. 3 donuts each month for a year. 15 pounds every month for 12 months. That would be a 180 pound weight gain. I'm was currently 180. I would double my size with pure fat. I would be 360 pounds. 60 pounds heavier than the man in front of me. I started crying. Mr. Fuller came closer to hug me. His belly pushed tight against mine. He started talking " Look, I don't know how many pounds you signed up to gain. But you are not alone. I'm the fattest guy in this office..." (not for long) I thought to myself "And, I still live an active life. I might not be as fast or have as much stamina, like when I was in shape. But, I am able to keep my weight down to my permanent weight and not an ounce more. Just eat right and exercise. In fact some of us guys from the office go to workout everyday, you should come" He let me go. I calmed my self and started walking out "what's the point" I said. As I walked out the door, I hear him yell out " You can always be fatter than you have to."

Those words still ring in my ear, as I stand here exploring my strange new 195 pound and counting body. Imagining how I would look fatter. The door bell rings. It's a pizza delivery guy. "Order for Eric, from Mr. Sterling." He unloads 2 large pizzas, a 2 liter bottle of coke, and a cookie cake. My stomach starts to rumble. Might as well eat because, this stomach is going to get bigger whether I like it or not. I can always got to the gym tomorrow.

(Follow my second blog @malereblogmischief, where I re-blog the sources for the picture in my stories.)

#male #body #swap #mischief #transformation #tf #stories #weight #gain #muscle #theft #thepromotion #theinterview

[evangelene]

To Take (Pt 3)

Summary: With all your memories gone, and the sudden information that you are now a vampire–who do you trust? Do you trust your mind that says to hate Yoongi? Or your heart that says you could never?

WARNINGS; Just warnings. Y’all know me enough by now.

Part One /   Part Two

You could only laugh as Jimin's arms wrapped around your waist, your weight suddenly pitching to the side as he forced you to collapse with him in a heap. The ball--the one you had been trying to catch for the last ten minutes of the game--bounced from your hands and into the grass just out of your reach.

"Yah!" You screamed, wrenching yourself free from Jimin's grasp to snatch that damned red ball once more. "I'm going to win you bastard!" Shielding it with your body, you screamed at the blonde when he tried to steal the toy from underneath your hands. "I'm going to win!" You shouted again, half joking--the other half shrieking with a level of insanity that only came from competitiveness. Jimin folded over in laughter, giving you just enough time to throw the ball as hard as you could to your teammate. "Jungkook! Catch!!" You screamed, forgetting about your newborn vampiric strength up until the moment the ball soared far and high above the youngest's head.

"Y/N!" Jungkook shouted back in mock anger; his expression seemed to only hold a sense of relief and joy. You had a feeling he was just happy to see you resembling the self that he knew.

Hoseok tore after Jungkook in an instant, causing the maknae to react with similar haste. In an effort to help your teammate (and screw over Jimin's) you burst up to your feet and launched yourself up onto Hoseok's back. Unlike you (who was not coordinated enough to pull such moves), Hoseok only dipped forward with the extra weight and let you fall by yourself into the grass. You rolled and snatched his ankles in a last ditch effort, forcing him to either trip or drag you like a prison weight.

He chose the latter.

"Children!" Namjoon shouted from the doorway to the castle, raising one eyebrow at your caught-red-handed, widened eyes. "Seokjin's got dinner ready." He chuckled, rolling his eyes when you pushed to your feet and brushed shredded blades of grass from your heavily stained dress.

Hoseok helped you steady your feet, laughing at your utterly confused expression. "So like, dinner and breakfast and...stuff--you guys actually eat?"

"Don't you?" Hoseok raised an eyebrow, one arm slung around your shoulders.

"I think I had a cracker once, and like a bite of a danish to see if I could even stomach human food."

He laughed, his breath warm on your chilling, sweat-drenched skin. "Though it's not required, we do still eat--if we don't, our bodies turn disgusting and malnourished like those monsters in the woods." He shook his head. "We need to get some human food in you before all your pretty hair falls out." In a dramatic gesture, he swept you up off your feet and flung you over one shoulder like someone brave enough to save a child from a burning building.

Jungkook, clueless, only shouted to the two of you. "What the hell are you doing?"

"This girl didn't know that she could eat human food!"

At the look of exaggerated horror on Jungkook's face, you pretended to hurl an invisible rock at his head. "Hey! I knew I could eat! I just didn't know that I'd look like you if I didn't!"

"How rude!" Jungkook shouted back to you, though his laughter was evident on every plane of his features.

It felt weird to consider yourself anything but human. But, you didn't have hunger pains--only thirst; it was a fact that made you a vampire through and through. A fact that was solidified once more when Hoseok set you down in the foyer--a fact you noticed in your features when you got a good look at yourself in the huge decorative mirror.

Your eyes were dulling to a red that had you wanting to whip something hard at the glass.

You rubbed at your eyes, trying to forget the thirst beginning to scratch at the back of your throat; you couldn't bear another memory so soon--another sip of someone's life. "Why?" You murmured to your reflection.

"Why what?"

You practically jumped at Jungkook's voice, surprised to still find him behind you. For some reason, you'd thought all the boys had gone into the dining room already.

"I--nothing." You murmured, eyes wide as you gave him a deer in the headlights stare. "I just--why do we require blood if we can eat like humans?"

"Because we can't make it ourselves. Human food keeps nutrients in our bodies so they don't decay and the blood we drink accepts those nutrients. We can live without food but without blood we go crazy and eventually die." He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes on you. "Do you need blood, Y/N?"

You put your hands out to stop him from getting closer, shaking your head. "No, no. I'm good for now. I just..." You squeezed your eyes shut. "I think I'm just going to change first. The grass makes me all itchy."

"Meet you there then?" He hooked his thumb to the dining room, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah." You nodded, turning without another word to bolt up the stairs. There was some sense of escape in your bones, some fight or flight response gone horribly wrong; you were running so fast that you couldn't breathe. You scrambled down the hall and towards your bedroom, panic flaring in your veins.

Because Jungkook was right, you needed blood--and you didn't want to need it.

You wheeled up and around the last corner before your room, skidding across the expensive marble tile only to smack directly into a stiffening body. Lucky for you, the other person had far better reflexes; instead of crashing face first to the ground like you were supposed to, a pair of hands around your waist spun you in a tight circle before gingerly lowering you to the giant runner rug around the corner. Unfortunately, your savior was not skilled enough to stop himself from falling with you--he was only able to make sure that your fall wasn't as painful and awkward as his was.

Yoongi had an arm on either side of you, his biceps shaking with the effort it took to stop himself from slamming down on top of you; despite your low angle, his fringe guarded his expression from you.

"Why the hell are you running?"

Your heart skipped at the sound of his voice--even if it was pissed. "I...um..."

"Why the hell are you running, Y/N?" He was smiling despite his words as you hid behind a tree, your face buried in your hands.

"You know why!"

"I like how you sing!"

"Shut up!" You shouted back, trying to cool down the heat to your face; it only made it warmer. "I didn't know you were there! You creep!"

He only laughed, the sound getting closer to your failed hiding spot.

Reality came back to you in a flashflood; suddenly, you found yourself staring at the dark and impassive eyes of the Min Yoongi you knew now, his face twisted into a scowl.

"I don't know." You whispered.

His breath fanned across your face in a small puff of laughter--one that was not accompanied by a smile--as he pulled himself back into a sitting position. Despite the humorless look to his face, there was something about his small chuckle that relaxed the tension in your shoulders. "You haven't changed at all."

You shifted up to match him, keeping the moderate distance between you. "But I'm not the person you knew before--I'm not..."

"You're not." He nodded more to himself than to you. "That's true, but that doesn't make you a different person; your heart is still the same. Removing memories can't change your morals or what you believe in."

Your eyes could only scan his, dumbstruck. "You're secretly nice, you know that?" While you wanted to stand, you couldn't remember how to use your legs.

"Don't get used to it." He was staring at his lap instead of you, waiting for you to leave--for you to disappear again; for you to be afraid of him.

Somehow, after everything, you couldn't find it in you to do what he wanted. The part of you that remembered the feel of his arms around you wanted to stay by him--now more than ever. "You...you still love me--don't you?" Your voice sounded more like a quiet squeak--so soft that you almost believed you hadn't even spoken to begin with.

It shouldn't have surprised you that he heard you, but it did. Suddenly, his glare was boring into your clueless stare. "Are you insane?" He hissed, "of course; I never stopped."

There was something about the way that your heart slammed against your ribcage that had your fingers reaching out for his on the ground. "Then...why aren't you being yourself? Why aren't you letting me learn to love you again?"

"Because," he glared at your searching fingers, "you need to understand that falling for me was what got you into this mess. You need to understand that I will not allow anything more to happen to you; so if you stay in this castle--if you let it protect you and if you let the boys keep you safe--nothing will ever hurt you again. If you keep me at a distance, you will live a happy life."

You sat back into your hips, lips pressed into a thin line. "But what about your happiness? You want to keep me caged because you're scared, is that it?"

"Yes."

Your eyes searched his, not finding the answers you wanted in them. Suddenly finding some bold part of you hidden deep inside your chest, you pressed to your knees to scoot over in front of him; to your surprise, he let you. Your fingers slowly reached out for his face and--despite the way he stiffened, despite the fact that he looked like the epitome of death--he let your fingertips brush his cheek.

"Y/N."

"Mm?" But you were too focused on the way his face fit perfectly in your hands, as if it was always meant for you.

"Stop it."

You cocked your head to the side, your thumb brushing his lips--resulting in his hand snapping up to grab your wrist. "Stop what?" You whispered innocently, but your lips were twitching in their boldfaced ignorance.

"Stop." But he didn't pull your hands from him, only tightened his grip on your wrist.

"I don't think you're capable of hurting me, Yoongi. I don't...I don't think that anything you've done has been the reason I'm changed. I don't think I died because of you."

"You need blood." His nails dug into your skin, preventing you from backing away like he knew you wanted to.

You snapped back as far as you could; it must have been the reaction he wanted, because he was pulling the string to a trap you had walked into--his eyes glinting with the key to your deepest fears. It made sense that he had such power over you; he loved you, so of course he knew you better than you knew yourself (currently).

"You need to drink blood to survive--and that, that is because of me." He let go of you immediately, standing up in a rush to adjust his shirt and start down the hall.

Your voice stopped him momentarily as you stared at the trim on the wall before you. "Is what you're hiding from me that important to you that you'd let me go?" You hated the clog in your throat, the iron bar of pain in your chest. You felt that you had been so close to something so dearly missed--but you couldn't find it in you to remember what that was. "I loved you." You whispered. "I think I still do, but you'd let that go for something as stupid as a secret?"

"Yes." He spoke over his shoulder, keeping his back to you so you couldn't see his expression--you had a feeling it defied the word passing from his lips.

And then, as fast as he appeared, he was gone and you were alone on the floor.

~.~

You wrapped your arms around yourself to try and still the repressed energy under your skin--the urges that kept you up far too late. You didn't want to admit it, but the thirst was beginning to take hold of you; it was ripping at your throat, searing your muscles and wrapping its hands around your sanity despite every effort to keep yourself from losing your grip on yourself. It took all you had just to stay on your bed and keep yourself from feverishly pacing around.

The castle walls almost seemed to sway in your vision through your deranged attempts to avoid your own stare in the mirror--why was there a mirror anyways? You had yet to throw a sheet over the damn thing; if you moved you'd break something and burst into a fit of madness. Is this what it felt like to die as a vampire?

You mentally cursed as your eyes found your reflection, again.

The last time you drank was probably a week ago--which would have been fine if you weren't still a newborn. So now you were forced to meet your red-hot stare in the mirror, the pallor to your skin lightened to a sickly color that exaggerated the darkness underneath your eyes. You swallowed and were forced to pinch the skin at your wrists to stop yourself from imagining the aftertaste of copper.

Inhuman. That was all you saw, something with fangs begging to break the skin of your bottom lip. Even your bones seemed inhuman, too prominent. Did you always look like that?

To tune out the images of yourself, you screwed your eyes shut--praying to a god you were sure didn't exist just to let it all pass. For some reason, part of you still believed that you didn't need blood to survive; part of you still believed that you were human.

You didn't know how long you had sat there with your eyes closed--it could have been anywhere from an hour to a week--but you were aware of another presence before your door even opened. The person peered in first before stepping deeper into your room; he did not speak. Even with your eyes closed and your back turned to him, you knew exactly who it was based purely on the slow and even footsteps--based purely on the aura that seemed to drown out everything else besides you and him.

"Yoongi." You murmured; it sounded loud compared to the previous silence.

He sighed, sending shivers down your spine. Despite not being able to see him, you could feel his stare on your back. "This castle really likes you, you know that Y/N?" Another sigh. "It's been acting strange, trying to tell me something for a while now. I think I finally get it."

"Do you now?" You whispered as your fingers dug into your sheets.

"You haven't had anything to drink, have you?"

The floor seemed to vibrate underneath you--you don't know who was shaking the castle; a part of you could almost believe that it was you. "Go away." You hissed. "I don't want any blood, I don't want to see you--don't make me see what I can't have. Don't make me see who I was; I don't...I don't want to take anything from anyone anymore."

With your body still curled in on itself, eyes closed blind to the world, you couldn't gauge his expression--you were sure it was angry. He was always angry now. There was no way to tell what he was thinking; you wondered if you ever knew before, back when you loved him.

Loved him, did you still? Probably, but the mania of thirst was making you delirious.

"That is what we do, Y/N. We are monsters who take." He sounded closer; your sudden amazing ability at hearing his steps let you know that he was now right beside you. Despite that, his sudden touch on your arm caused you to flinch. "Look at me."

"Why?" You squeezed your lids tighter, fisting your hands at your sides. "If I look at you then I'll have to see--what will I have to see? What am I? I'll see...I'll see..." You couldn't finish your words; whatever cognitive function and control you had over your tongue was disappearing faster than you could catch it.

"You need to drink, now." When you jerked from his touch he snapped his hand around your forearm to keep you from going too far. "Think of Seokjin, Y/N. I know how much he means to you--think of how he'll feel if you lose it. Think of Jungkook, think of how that would break him--and Hoseok and Jimin and Namjoon. Think of them if you don't want to think of me. They need you. They need you to drink."

You felt wetness seep between your eyelashes, dribbling down your cheeks. "I do think of you." You whispered. "You just won't--you don't want me to."

"Look at me." He hissed.

"No."

"Y/N--"

"No!" You shouted, twisting in his grasp in a sudden wild attempt to get free. "No!" But his hands were on your face, keeping you tight in his grip as he forced your head up. You tried to wrench yourself free again, but with your eyes closed it made it difficult. Misjudging how wide your bed was, you scrambled to the side only to find yourself tipping off the edge.

Once again, it was Yoongi who saved you, catching you before you could hit the ground. It was that sudden surprise of falling that had your eyes flying open, meeting his gaze instantaneously.

You pursed your lips at him from the opposite side of the waiting room at the local doctor, your brows furrowed in concentration.

He raised one eyebrow at you, shifting to stare back at you with a clear focus and purpose that was far different from your attempt at connecting the dots of your memory.

"I have seen you before, yes?" You murmured more to yourself than him, cocking your head to the side as if that would make you remember his name and where you had met him. "Do you donate often?"

"Blood?" Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I require more than I can give."

"You need transfusions?" Your expression shifted from curiosity to worry. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," He held his hands out to you, as if your empathy might manifest and run towards him. "It's just a condition I've had since birth. That's all."

"Then..." Your lips paused in their words, something flashing from the depths of your eyes. "Where have I seen you before?"

"Do you remember--"

"Min Yoongi?" The nurse interrupted, walking into the waiting room with your papers in hand. She stood frozen in disbelief, her worried gaze flitting between you and him. "What are you doing here? Did Seokjin call you for something?"

"Yoongi." You whispered his name, your eyes widening on him. "Yoongi!" You were up on your feet before he knew what was happening, your arms slinging around his shoulders. "Yoongi--I thought...my father told me you were--"

He chuckled, wrapping one arm around you. "Seokjin never mentioned his cousins?"

"No." You laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. "He did, I just never figured...I was so young at the time, I didn't even realize the two of you were--"

"It's okay." He chuckled, nodding to the nurse as her worried stare softened in relief--it appeared that Seokjin trusted her with the truth of their identities. "It's me, Y/N. It's really me."

There was so much worry--so much hope and promise in his eyes that, before you could comprehend what you were doing, you were lifting your face up to his. You were close--so incredibly close, but that last inch was too far for you, it asked too much of you to do it all on your own. Instead, your lips were dangerously close to his, waiting, pleading, and hoping that he would do exactly what you wanted.

"Yoongi." You whispered.

All it took was his name from your lips, that one little thing, for all reservation to fly from his eyes. His lips crashed against yours, his hands snaking around your waist to pull you impossibly closer and closer still. He held you like he believed you would disappear--like this was a dream and it was his one moment to finally show you how much he loved you.

Like it was okay; it was all okay.

He was so warm; you didn't think vampires could be warm, but he was. Soft, and warm. Your hands trailed up to sift through his hair, using it as a handle to steady you as your heart beat wildly against your chest. Maybe it was his heart and not yours, maybe they were the same heart; it was hard to tell when the edges between you and him were blurring.

And then you got the first taste--the tang of blood on your tongue--before the smoke ripped you from that one peaceful moment.

And, too late, you realized the trickery to his siren's kiss.

"You know lilies are a funeral flower, right?" He murmured as the wind slapped your clipped stems in his face. "What do you like about them?"

"You don't think they're pretty?" You raised an eyebrow, flinging a dead, limp petal at him. "They mean far more than death." You grumbled to the petals instead of him, but it was impossible to hide the small smile at the corners of your lips.

Yoongi knew, more than anything, that lilies would forever be special to you; he just didn't know why. He scooted closer to you, pushing up to his knees so he could lean back against the fallen log you sat on, his head gently resting against the side of your thigh. "You know I'm just teasing, right? Lilies are beautiful."

His smile broke any attempt at a scowl that remained on your features, forcing a small bubble of laughter from your throat. You flicked his forehead lightly, choosing a lily from your lap to tuck behind his ear--immediately styling his hair to suit the flower. Pulling back to admire your handiwork, you smiled.

And gods it was so bright that it felt like the trees above you had bent way to leave room for the sun.

"They were my mother's favorite flower. I think she helped your parents plant a couple at the castle--though I'm pretty sure Jia ripped them out when she was two." you let out a bark of laughter to the sky. "She liked the white ones best--she said that the gods that made these flowers couldn't possibly make a monster; they are too beautiful and they smell too sweet." You paused, your fingers brushing along another in the heap on your skirt.

You were drifting; travelling somewhere he couldn't reach--some memory so dangerous that Yoongi felt the need to grab your fingers in an attempt to tether you back to reality. Flinching, your eyes met his and whatever pain was there left in a flurry of sparkle. "Do you think that they'll be okay for the party? I don't know if your extended....extended-extended family will think it's rude; I mean especially coming from your human girlfriend. Well, it's a funeral flower and you guys are...vam--" You looked over your shoulder even though the two of you were a mile away in the woods and there wasn't a single person in sight, nevertheless earshot. "Vampires." You whispered. "Well, I mean--I guess they don't know we're dating either so..." Everything about you in that moment was so innocent and captivating that he felt compelled to pull you down for a kiss that wound up on your nose instead of your lips; you were currently too innocent to taint with a true kiss.

"I think they'll love them." He chuckled at your small pout of rejection.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Your eyes flit across his face, lingering on his lips as he ran his tongue along them for moisture. "What is your favorite flower--we need to include those too."

"I don't have one." His head was back on your thigh, bent at an angle that appeared uncomfortable even to you who slept upside down and in a pretzel; but, it allowed him a better view of your smile.

"Of course you do; you're just being stubborn because it's probably some rare, hard-to-find gorgeous thing."

"True, but I didn't know you became a blooming plant, Y/N."

You smacked him with a poor lily unlucky enough to have been in your hand. "Cheesy! Min Yoongi!" The lily shed petals that floated around his head and through his vision as you hit him once more for emphasis. "Is that a confession I hear?"

"I thought the kiss was enough to prove it?"

"You are a sleezeball." You glared at him with no venom. "And actual kisses belong on the mouth and not on the nose. What if I had been all snotty--then the moment would have been ruined." You scoffed.

"Come here." He motioned with on hand, his head still firmly rooted to your thigh. When you were close enough, he scooped his grip around the back of your neck, bringing you down to give you exactly the kiss you asked for--and then some.

For a second, you were both smoke and both a real, physical being; you were both kissing and being smothered by the weight of Yoongi's memories. It was a flash, a moment where you were in two places at once before the world shifted and you were thrown back into a past you would never be ready to relive.

You could feel Yoongi try to pull back--try to stop the torrent of pain that was sure to come--but you must have had a vice grip on him through all of the sensation because he couldn't move away from you.

He couldn't stop it.

You were choking despite the fact that for one: it was not real; and two: you were standing in the middle of the night woods without a single object there to impede your breathing. The smoke seemed to whip around you, slipping a noose around your neck that had you gasping--tightening when you spotted Yoongi running through the smoke of his memories towards you.

The forest seemed to make way for him, framing him in a horror picture of fear and desperation. This wasn't a Yoongi that you recognized--even from the brief pleasant memories between you two. This was a Yoongi that was beyond panicked; wide-eyed, chest heaving with each labored breath, about to scream even though it looked like he'd forgotten language.

He ran through you, your smoke self making way for him as he screamed--inhuman and unintelligible.

It wasn't until the third or fifth repetition that you finally figured out what he was saying: your name.

You tried to chase after his ripped howls, his shards of pain that reverberated through the air, but you were too slow. All you could catch was the tail ends of his broken scream that seemed to echo down to your core. It was the worst noise you'd ever heard in your life--something dying and breaking in a way that could only signal loss of life. Despite how hard you tried to see what Yoongi saw, the smoke wouldn't let you; it kept you rooted in place as Jungkook, followed by Seokjin, ran through you--the wisps of your ghost trying to cling to them.

Even in his memories, Yoongi was trying to stop you from seeing yourself.

"Y/N!"

You gasped into the stale air of your room, blinking furiously to try and clear the leftover smoke as you practically shoved yourself away from Yoongi. Blood dribbled past your lips, marking his; you touched your lower lip as if the spilt liquid was your own.

"You stopped me." You whispered, your glazed eyes refocusing on him. "Why wouldn't you let me see?"

"You know why." Yoongi hissed, breathing as if he ran a marathon. He made no effort to reach for you or help you up off the floor in any way; rather, he readjusted himself to properly sit at the edge of your bed.

"I hate that, you know? I hate your stupid, bullshit self-pity. You think this is all your fault? For what? What do you gain out of all of this, Yoongi?"

He ran his tongue along his teeth, his steely glare solidifying on you--if you weren't so fucked-out from the sudden intake of blood you would have felt a spike of fear down your spine. "I gain you being alive and happy."

"You call this happiness?"

"I call it alive. So hate me as you will, because this is all my fault. How can you not see that this is all my fault? I changed you, I killed you, I brought you here--I was the one that couldn't let you be--he...if it wasn't for me--"

With a lack of better judgment and a surprisingly thin threshold of patience, you pushed yourself up to your feet so you could stand before him. Your hand smacked across his face before you could gain enough control of yourself to stop it--but you really didn't know if you wanted to stop it. He clutched his reddened cheek, staring up at you with some deep sparkle in his eyes that could have been anger in the right light.

You knew better.

"Stop." It was a plea, a bitter cry that had you sinking back onto the floor before him--not out of his fear, but out of your own exhaustion. "Just stop." Your face crumpled, crashing down (as ungracefully as one could possibly be) onto his knees in an attempt to bury yourself in his legs. "Please--for once could you just not? Could you just....gah." You groaned. "Just shut up and let me in."

He sat there for a while, unsure of what to do with his hands until finally, fucking finally, they rested on top of your head. It was like he was afraid to touch you; as if that one moment would break every bit of twisted resolve to make you despise his guts. "You have it wrong." He whispered, so soft you almost didn't hear it--almost; you were a fucking newborn vampire, of course you actually heard it. "It's not me letting you in; it's you letting me in. You--you never left me." He murmured to some point on a wall behind you, his fingers absently working into your scalp in a gesture that could only be described as soothing.  "You should know that."

"Mm." You grunted, closing your eyes to the soothing ache in your scalp as the tightened muscles in your shoulders released.

"Ah." He chuckled. "You always liked this; Jimin says you're like a dog--not really a cat. You don't crave solitude enough to be a cat--his reasoning, not mine." Yoongi shook his head, shifting your hair off the back of your neck. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"'Lil bit. But that's fine; I like hearing you talk."

He inhaled sharply, and though you couldn't see him, you could feel him shaking his head. "You have always been so difficult."

"You're one to talk." You laughed into the fabric of his pants, tilting your head just enough to be able to see his face from your angle. "I bet you were an absolute pain in the ass to fall in love with."

"You were the one who pursued me." He snorted. "I was content with staying away."

"Bullshit."

His hands gingerly brushed across the skin of your neck, massaging the tired muscles there. "It's true!" It wasn't a full smile, but it wasn't entirely sad and lost either--it was progress. "But, I think I was the one who fell first."

"I don't know about that. I may not have all my memories of you--but there's a part of me that demands to be close to you. I think I've loved you for longer than you've known."

"You speak as if you still do."

"You speak as if you think so little of yourself." You murmured, shifting to balance your chin on his knees, blowing your fallen hair out of your eyes. "There's a lot I still don't know, but I think I have learned that I can't stand you blaming yourself for this."

"Don't say that." He whispered. "Don't look at me like that." There was so much pain there, so much blame, grief, loss, hurt--everything and anything that could destroy a person was hiding just behind his irises. You had a feeling that you used to know each and every cause to those emotions within him; a part of you hurt to know that you no longer had those memories--you no longer knew how to help him.

"Like what?"

"Like you love me." His fingers were so soft, travelling down to brush across your cheeks--your lips.

You leaned in to press you lips against the tips of his fingers, out of instinct more than anything else. "But I like this." You whispered, "this feels right."

"Why can't you ever be easy?"

"Because my mind says not to trust you, but my body says that I am in exactly the right place."

He chuckled to himself, closing his eyes. "Even now you haven't changed. There are a million humans that know fear, but only a few that know how to be afraid while continuing to step towards something terrifying."

"You think you're really that scary?"

"I have to be; you have to hate me--you need to hate me. You need to make this easier for me."

"Mmm, but I don't want to."

His moment of reverie snapped, his one allowance towards you had ended and you felt it the moment you finished speaking. "I have to go." He murmured quickly, his hands leaving you with only ghost touches and memories as he pushed up to his feet. "This is enough--this moment was enough for me."

You were used to him running by now. Min Yoongi was a terrifying vampire, but he was garbage at dealing with anything that he couldn't physically fight.

So, you remained on the ground, watching him free himself from you as he started towards your door in a hurried rush. It was only when his hand was on the handle that you finally decided to stop him with your words. You were good at that, stopping him--but only ever for a moment.

"Yoongi."

He paused, his grip tightening on the knob.

"You didn't lose me, you know that, right? I'm still here."

His shoulders tightened as he nodded at the back of your door instead of you. "I know."

And then, without any more interference from you, he left you alone.

Again.

~.~

It was from that moment onward that you decided you were done running. You were done crying and whining about drinking blood. From that moment forward you were done being afraid of causing waves in the castle--you were done being afraid of Min Yoongi.

And so commenced the beginning of Y/N: the little shit.

Apparently you were always a little shit, because both Seokjin and Jungkook--the two that knew you the best besides small, blonde and brooding himself--seemed to have minimal reaction other than a sense of relieved happiness at your newfound confidence and sass.

"You know, you've become more yourself lately." Seokjin chuckled as you helped him around the kitchen, narrowing your eyes into a scolding glare every time Namjoon peered in to see if the two of you needed help.  Lord knows you needed that boy to break something and injure himself before going to see his aunt.

"That's what we're calling it now?" You murmured, one eyebrow raised as you pulled a casserole from the oven, quickly setting it up top before the burning heat seeped through the pot holders in your hands.

"What changed?"

You stared at the bubbling sauce atop the cooling casserole. "I kissed Yoongi."

Seokjin, drama queen that he was, practically dropped the spoon he was using to stir the batter for the cake they were going to bake later--elsewhere, at Cass'. "What?"

"It was mutual." You murmured. "But I...I saw how much he was hurting for the first time. I think it broke his defenses a bit. I learned that I want...I want to remember everything again so I can figure out how to stop that hurt."

You could feel Seokjin's eyes twinkle on your back, as if you found some long-lost spark that he'd believed would be gone forever. You turned on your heel to grab the tinfoil from his outstretched hand. "That's noble of you."

You snorted. "I like to think it's called not giving a fuck and doing what I want until I get what I want."

"That too." He chuckled, grabbing the bag for the food they were taking with them. "But still, it's nice to see you two not avoiding each other." He paused, his eyes narrowing on your back when you turned to wrap up the dish. "Wait, you're not planning anything stupid while we're at Aunt Cass', are you?"

"Nah, I'm just going to snoop." You turned over your shoulder, a wicked smile lighting up your face. It was enough to have Seokjin rolling his eyes, cackling at your mischief.  

"Just promise me you won't leave the castle--you don't know how dangerous it is out there on your own."

"I promise, I promise." You whined. "Just...enjoy yourselves okay? I know I've been causing a lot of trouble lately--what with 'amnesia' and all. So just--just have lots of fun."

"I think we're going to tell Cass about you, so you can come next time. She'll throw a fit if we just spring you upon her all of a sudden." He paused, slipping a lid on top of the batter bowl. "I think she'll fall in love with you quickly."

"Why?"

"She's...aunt Cass, being female and all, she has a special place in her heart for other female vampires--so she'll want to make sure everything is perfect and probably collect a ton of useless shit for you to take back with you. But, for that, she needs preparation. And besides, it's impossible for her to not love you--after all, you melted Min Yoongi."

"She doesn't need to--"

"And no, you don't tell Aunt Cass that she doesn't need to do anything--the woman is terrifying. Much like you, as you said: she does what she wants."

You folded in laughter, lowering the casserole into the bag Seokjin held open for you. "Okay okay; I can't wait to meet her either way."

He slung the bag over his shoulder, hooking one arm around yours. "It's just for a few hours--we'll be back soon."

"Enjoy yourselves. Don't waste your precious family time worrying about me."

"Yoongi's nails are already nubs from chewing on them in fear; hun, you're far too late for 'worry'."

You rolled your eyes. "Well then at least make sure he smiles once."

"Will do." Seokjin chuckled, heading towards the foyer.

~.~

Yoongi didn't even look at you as you hugged the boys in the hall, seeing each one out the door before their trek to their aunt's. Instead, he took the opportunity to slip by while you were otherwise occupied with Seokjin, leaving you to stare at his back as the boys loaded one by one into the carriage.

"He's still not letting me in." You whispered as Seokjin finished reminding you for the umpteenth time that you were not to leave the castle grounds.

Seokjin wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rocking lightly. "He's just being the only person he knows how to be. But I have a feeling you're about to be nosy while we're gone--and while I should tell you to stay out of it, I also want you to break him. You crashed through those walls once; I can't wait for you to do it again--that boy needs a kick in the ass sometimes."

You snorted into his shirt, chuckling softly. "I will. I promise you I will."

He kissed the top of your head, giving you one more pat on the shoulder before stepping towards the door. "Be a sneak, just stay inside."

You rolled your eyes, waving him onward. It was only when the door closed behind him with a heavy, solid thud that you finally realized just how alone and empty the castle felt without any of the boys inside it.

For a moment, you stood in the foyer, feeling a wash of cold air brush over your skin. It was foreign to you, maybe even foreign to your past self--for all you knew; you'd never been alone in this castle. Though the castle itself was a presence, this...this was different.

It was just you.

You turned quickly, gathering your skirts in your fists--you'd wasted enough time contemplating emptiness, you had to take full advantage of the fact that Min Yoongi wasn't in the castle. For once, the irritating vampire prince could not rein you in and stop you from sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.

You burst up the stairs, nearly tripping at the speed you were going--you supposed being a vampire didn't mean you were any more graceful than you were as a human. Klutziness couldn't be erased by undead genes.  You strode towards Yoongi's study with a purpose, the castle seeming to thrum anew around you with your determination.

"Calm down, Y/N." You muttered to your heart that was hammering an unhealthy rhythm in your chest--even though you tried to take huge, even breaths. For some reason, the idea of finally getting some semblance of an answer felt absolutely terrifying and, when Yoongi's door came into view, it felt like your last and final chance to go back; your last chance to do as Yoongi wanted and go back into happy ignorance.

You kept forward, your hand reaching out to grip the door handle.

You were unsurprised to find that it was locked to your touch. Yoongi was smart, he knew that you would come to the place he'd forced you out a month back. What neither of you expected, was for the door to unlock after your hand tried it a second time.

You stared wide-eyed into the empty and dark room as the door creaked open for you, confusion and a spine-tingling array of goosebumps trailed up your skin as the castle seemed to hum around you in bliss. Placing your hand on the door frame, you pursed your lips at the architecture.

"Did you do that?" You whispered to the ghosts that gave the building power, furrowing your brow when the castle seemed to answer back with a small shock to your veins. You raised an eyebrow. "Okay then, who am I to complain?" Despite the bold-faced attempt at bravery, your feet refused to step over the threshold of the now unlocked room. It felt like you were doing something unspeakably terrible by breaking in there--even if the building itself gave you permission. It was a violation of privacy; it was a violation of the security that Yoongi felt while in that room.

Despite standing there, you still imagined it lit; his sleeping face drooling on the desk above crumpled sheets--even though it was now dark and there was not a single paper to be found on the lacquered wood. You placed a hand to your chest as if you could reach through it to silence the beat of your too-loud heart.

Then, finally, you mustered the strength to break past the petrification of your body and move forward. The light clicked on without your touch, another signal from the castle that it either appreciated you or was willing to aid in your mission.

"You're just being nice because Yoongi's not here." You murmured to the walls, positive that--in another life--you might have appeared insane. Your fingers traced the desk on your way to the seat, your body sinking down into the plush leather as it engulfed your hips--accepting you wholeheartedly. It was inanimate, but it was enough to convince you that you were doing the right thing.

Steeling the shake to your nerves, you reached down to pull out the bottom drawer, discovering the banded pack of letters seeming to burst out in a bouquet at the top. If the rubber band holding it all together had been any older, you were positive that the letters would break free and explode around you.

You set it on the desk, unwinding it and proceeding to flip aimlessly through the first you until you finally decided to take the first step to no return. You plucked out one in the first quarter of the pack, smoothing it out on the desk before you.

Y/N,

Your fingers unconsciously ran across the scrawl of your name, absentmindedly creating patterns as you continued to read.

I've found you. For some reason it is still hard to believe; I thought after all this time I would never see you again--nevertheless get a chance to feel this way. Initially, I wanted to find you just to see you, my precious friend. But now, well, you've made it increasingly difficult for me to keep this relationship as just friends.

If only you knew the effect you have on me.

It was a short letter, one that had your breath hitching as you screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the angry blond sitting down and taking the time to write those words. The pieces wouldn't have connected if you didn't have that moment with him in your room, if you hadn't felt his fingers in your hair and the pressure of his lips on yours--willing life back into you.

This first letter was the start to an addiction, one that had you devouring another and then another and another--travelling down a long and painful road of falling more and more for a man that treated you like glass.

A man that treated you like he was a monster incapable of holding anything more fragile than a stone.

Y/N,

You're sleeping now, of which I am happy for because it allows me the time to write you today. I'm also just thankful you are resting and are here by my side. I don't believe you will remember this moment as vividly as I do--if you remember any of our moments as I do. Humans are notoriously difficult when it comes to things such as memories.

So let me remind you of how you are now: currently using my lap as your pillow while sprawled out on the couch. You only give me one hand to use to write--considering you have a tendency to flail in your sleep and I need to use the other to make sure you don't roll yourself off the couch. Are you aware of this? How often have you woken on the floor at your own place?

I assume Jia is the one responsible for your safety at night.

I also assume that she thinks the same as I do: you really are not cute when you sleep.

But that is okay with me; I know it is hard to sleep preciously when life is as it has been for you. I like to think that you sleep better when I'm around--though that could be my ego talking. But, forgive me, I just want to believe that I am of some help to you; and right now, I can believe that I am.

You're smiling in your sleep.

You never smile in your sleep.

I retract my earlier statement; you are very cute asleep.

You devoured another and then another and another. Drowning yourself in these little vignette moments with the man that you had once loved and were now falling for all over again. Even if this man was only in letters, even if he was hidden and locked somewhere so far out of your reach, reading these made you believe that you had the power to bring him back to you.

Just as Yoongi brought you back to life, it became your goal to do the same for him.

Y/N,

I don't know why I address these to you to begin with. I just feel that it is the right thing to do considering so many of our secrets and lives are written on these pages. There is so much you don't understand about us monsters; but I don't want you to understand.

I truly believe that it is better if you don't.

Us inhuman creatures are really quite tragic in that sense, aren't we? We try forever with every inch of our being to protect--but all it gets us is the death of the ones we are trying to save.

I won't let that be you.

And I know you are reading these letters, I know you have snuck in here to snoop around and I know that you will probably do so in the future. You are a cunning being, you know that? Slippery like a fox during the hunt and even more irritating than the dogs that try to chase it.

But perhaps, it is only fitting that someone like you has found your way back to me. I think only someone capable of fear and bravery at the same time can truly find the ability to make a monster like me happy.

I only hope that I can do the same for you.

You chuckled, finding humor in the irony of the words now. You really hadn't changed much, had you?

Not even becoming a vampire could make you any less determined to do as you please.

Y/N,

I apologize, but you must understand that I had to do this. I had to. I couldn't let you live with that horrible memory any longer. Though it does not make her any less dead to you, and though I will allow you to grieve your mother--I will not allow you to remember walking in on the moment her soul left her. I will not allow you to continue on in that manner.

I know you have been holding onto it for so long and I have been incredibly blind to this pain you have been carrying. I apologize for my uselessness; I apologize for not being there for you when you needed me. I apologize for not understanding, for taking it from you only now. It has made you so strong, but it has also been your greatest weakness.

Those moments...those moments when you walk through a door and fall to your knees to scream until one of us collects you, or when you sometimes change so drastically--so instantaneously--forever traumatized by a man who only continues to do so; I can't let you live like that.

If nothing more, I wish that I could take you both from your father and away from that town without any consequences--but I know that they will come for us immediately. They have been trying for centuries after all.

That man though...he is far more persistent than any other. I just hope that Seokjin continues to remain without the label as vampire--he is the only one that can truly watch over you in that town.

Forgive me, Y/N, but I will hold onto this memory of yours alone. Let me allow you at least this much peace--it is all I can do for you. It is all I can do before you realize the pain I keep from you--the pain I take from you when you are not looking.

Allow me this one large pain amongst all of the small.

There were so many more letters, so many moments of happiness, of sadness, fear, hope--every moment that you and Yoongi shared on these pages felt so real and visceral that you wished nothing more than to be able to remember them again yourself.

And then, they took a sharp turn--somewhere that felt inevitable given the context of your life now.

I'm sorry Y/N.

Today I will let you rest and I will address this letter to myself, Yoongi,

Today we lost Taehyung. Rather--he isn't dead, he isn't missing; we have him with us, but it is not the Taehyung that we all once had. After Jia's passing, we had to hunt him down--a difficult task in the wake of the expanses of the surrounding forest. We managed to, much to his own distaste.

The Taehyung that we have currently is chained up outside by the gazebo since he refuses to drink blood; he hopes to die himself, to see Jia again. We all know that this lapse in judgment will prove to be a challenge, and that his death will not come out of lack of blood; we are just satisfied that, for now, he has allowed himself to be chained so that (if and when the insanity hits) we will be there to feed him, deal with it, and keep him away from any innocents.

For now, our only option is to leave him alone until then.

I hope that he comes to his senses soon.

The following letters felt heavier, darker and darker still. Until finally, you felt that you were travelling down a path that ran in line with the memories that Yoongi prevented you from fully seeing. The one you dwelled the most on--the one that you chose to stop on was horribly crinkled and stained. It was like Yoongi had contemplated throwing it away a thousand times before finally opting to bind it up with the rest.

And you found out quickly why that was; it was far different than any letter prior.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry...

The apologies seemed to continue on forever, even spilling onto the back of the page. Words were attempted; sentences tried to form but failed miserably. Nothing seemed to string together properly until you got about halfway through the back. Then and only then, did you realize the moment in time that this letter was written.

We should have invested in stronger chains.

Why did you have to come? Why couldn't you stay--I knew you couldn't, you were already....he had already gotten to you too...just like Jia.

Y/N, I'm sorry.

It's not Taehyung's fault, it's mine. So please don't blame him, blame me.

Never stop hating me. If you ever wake up, don't let me experience your love again.

Don't let me forget, don't let me forgive myself.

It was the end; it was the last letter you could bear to read. And so, you closed it up, re-banded all of the letters and tucked them back into the drawer before promptly bringing your head down to rest against the wood of the desk.

"Idiot." You murmured, your eyes closed to stop the unbidden images of Yoongi running wildly--hopelessly--towards a lifeless body that you couldn't yet see. "You're such an idiot." You whispered, trying to clear the whirlwind in your head.

Taehyung...the reason you were a vampire--the reason why your memories were gone. It was because Taehyung had taken them.

It was because Taehyung had drunk from you until there was nothing left.

But the way Yoongi wrote it; it wasn't like it was all Taehyung's fault. There was a reason you couldn't stop the man, there was a reason you were in the forest. You were injured...you were--

You let out a groan that echoed loudly in the previous silence of the room. "I want to remember." You whispered. "I need to know what he's keeping from me." There were still so many secrets--so many unanswered, ambiguous questions that you were sure you couldn't find answers to until you found Taehyung.

Until you went back home.

You pressed your palms flat against the desk, pushing yourself up and out of the room. You needed air. You needed fresh air, and damnit you needed it now.

"Please, just don't leave the castle."

You clamored down to the foyer, staring at the back of that big, heavy door in contemplation of breaking yet another rule. "They just mean don't go to the village; don't go to the forest." You murmured, shaking off the whispered pleas the boys had left you. "I need some fresh air; if I don't leave the castle grounds then its fine, right?"

And so, with that whispered assurance, you opened the door and slowly made your way down the front steps. You had never been good at listening apparently, based on the amount of times Yoongi had written such things in those letters.  

Why should that change now?

You let your skirts fall around your ankles, taking in deep gulps of the afternoon air. The castle felt stifling all alone; as safe as it felt, you needed the open air. You needed to think--you were never good at thinking confined within a roof and four walls.

Something Yoongi also mentioned in his letters.

The castle seemed to cling to you as you walked, deliberately keeping yourself on what you assumed to be castle grounds--past the lily gardens, the gazebo, and towards the lake. The way it was cleared, it made you believe that it was still safe-- it was still part of the castle. It wasn't leaving, right? You were still on castle grounds, right?

The castle seemed to back you up, telling you that it was there through the steady thrum in your veins--solidifying your resolve. You stepped into the shallows, letting the water soothe the ache to your head, smooth out the cluttered nerves of your bones, and the general exhaustion that came from the wash of emotions present in those letters. You let it crash over your ankles, only going in that far--you weren't confident enough to swim in the lake without the boys there. So, for the time being, you let the water convince you that it was safety.

And you believed in it, since something about the water felt safe and calm. It reminded you of times when you were whole--of memories that you had believed to be entirely lost to Taehyung.

"Jia!" You screamed as she splashed water up at you who was reading on shore. She only giggled, louder when Taehyung's arms tucked under your armpits to lift you up and forward into the lake.

You didn't remember closing your eyes, only opening them when you felt something about the safety of the water take a sharp turn towards the scale of danger. Instantly your gaze locked with a shifting motion, a ripple effect getting closer until the spined back of something horrible curved out of the water for just a moment. The way the creature moved was far too smooth and lithe to be human--too feral to even be a vampire.

You took a huge step back out of sheer instinct, forcing yourself out of reach from the tides. For some reason lost to you, it never occurred to you to run. This place was safety--you were still on castle grounds. There was no way anything could get to you--you hadn't left...you hadn't...

Unless the definition of castle grounds changed depending on whether or not Yoongi was there with you...

"Don't leave the castle, okay?"

You let out a scream as the creature burst from the water, lunging towards you even as you stumbled backwards--attempting to run but failing in the difficulty of the sand. As a result, you wound up slamming onto your ass instead of making any move forward.

The monster before you was hairless; its skin more like that of a sea creature than anything resembling a human. Despite the tall, bipedal gait, it had hands clawed like a sloth's--even though it moved much faster.  The monster's face seemed to open in half to reveal rows and rows of teeth--the front-most row far longer and sharper than all the rest. Though it had two pairs of eyes, it only blinked one at a time, letting out a horrible inhuman screech that was supposed to be a growl. Spit flew in strings from its jowls as it stared down at you like you were a rare treat; something it would take it's time devouring once it caught you.

And then it started running towards you.

Pathetically, you let out a shriek, trying to curl into a ball to brace yourself for the first hit--like a bear attack right? You were supposed to curl into a ball to protect your organs and just take the hit, right?

This wasn't a bear, but the adrenaline panic in your brain forced the reaction from you.

Maybe it was because of your idiocy, but that first hit never came.

Instead, there was a huge crack, a thud as the sound of nails on a chalkboard echoed through the previously silent woods. When you flung your head up, you were incredibly surprised to find a huge, thick arc of rock above you, protecting you from the creature's strike. There was something strange and heavy flowing through you, something that seemed to leech energy from you bit by bit. You stared at your hands in a mixture of confusion in awe.

The castle.

"It likes you."

You didn't have much time to contemplate the wonders or limits of your bond with the building before the rock cracked, signaling you hadn't much time before the creature broke through. In a panicked rush, you burst forward, ripping your dress as you did so--but you couldn't give less of a damn about your clothing at this point. You ran, the castle as the only goal in sight--though farther than you had anticipated.

Cursing your stupidity, you barely managed to get within reach of the gazebo when the creature crashed through the remainder of the rock and charged towards you full force. While you found you had some control of the castle now, you had shit nothing compared to the bond Yoongi had built with it. You didn't look back, didn't allow yourself that one glimpse of it because you couldn't afford to lose anymore footing than you already had.

But, before you could even dream of an escape, claws were ripping into the back of your dress--digging through your flesh to snap you up off the ground like you weighed nothing more than a feather. You found yourself flying backwards, the creature throwing you up and over its shoulder--back into the sand where you started.  You rolled, landing shoulder first with a painful pop that had you letting out a sharp hiss of pain. Without time to think, you braced yourself with your arms crossed in front of you as the thing charged once more.

The creature rammed you backwards, your feet digging deep into the sand as its claws fought to get past your forearms and to the vulnerable flesh of your neck. It had damn horrible breath, its snarl fanning the overwhelming scent of spoiled eggs and decay as it howled in frustration. It gave you one moment, a millisecond as it reeled back to attack once more, and you took it. Ducking under its arm, you ran past it, causing the creature to take extra time to turn and chase after you once more. It was enough for you to have a head start--not much of one, but you weren't greedy at the moment.

In the process, you took a claw to the arm--not that you felt the pain anymore, the fear and adrenaline were too thick in your blood.

"Female vampires are rare...you make prime prey for the monsters in the woods."

"Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" You chanted, letting out yet another embarrassingly high-pitched scream when the creature missed you by a near millimeter, its huge clawed hand instead slamming down into the ground to the left of you. You willed your feet to move faster but you figured you'd never been much of a runner because, holy hell, were you slow. "Anytime now castle!" You shrieked to the building in the distance, jumping forward when another missed attack plowed into the earth behind you.

As a response, power flowed through you--a wimpy response that didn't nearly feel enough to do anything but flick a fly--not that you knew how to control much of it anyways. Then it hit you.

Literally, it slammed into you, knocking you forward as its teeth finally made contact with your skin--rows of teeth that felt more like butcher knives digging into your flesh and ripping. Blood spurted into your vision, so red and fresh that a part of you didn't even believe that it was yours.

And then the pain hit, raw and searing and holy shit did it burn. You snarled in pain, animalistic to the point that you scared yourself. Your elbow came out to connect with its jaw and your own strength began to scare you. Because, with that one hit, that huge, hulking monster of a being went spinning sideways, crashing into the ground behind you as if you were a massive horse that just donkey-kicked that motherfucker off of you. There was black blood on the ground mixed with yours, and it made the grass slippery as you tried to scramble back to your feet.

The creature roared to its own, posing in a horrible howl that reverberated the ground beneath your feet. Suddenly there was a horrible noise ripping from your own, battling the creature high note for high not--a monstrous force that scared even yourself.

For the first time, you could truly believe that you weren't human.

It attacked once more, but, this time, your nails dug into its skin, flinging it forward into the side of the castle as you let out another pained shriek from the use of your fucked-up shoulder. It was an out of body experience, watching yourself move towards this being like a predator even though you were only a third of its size. Power thrummed through you, filling your veins and lifting your hair off your neck as you finally got in range of castle--enough for a huge spike of earth to stab up and through the monster, piercing it from end to end as it let out one last terrible snarl and nothing more.

Relief flooded through your system, followed by the sudden loss of every bit of energy that you had left in you. Allowing yourself one moment of weakness, your wobbly legs gave out beneath you and you clutched your injured shoulder, heaving in deep gulps of air.

"Fuck." You whispered. "The fuck was that?"  

~.~

By the time the boys got home, you had managed to haul your ass up and into the nearest bathroom--which was a difficult task since the nearest bathroom was up a floor of impossibly steep stairs;  you were positive that you had trailed blood all up that railing trying to get yourself up them.

You sat on the lid of the toilet, clutching a (now horribly blood-stained) towel to your shoulder in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. It was all you could do really; whatever power you had back during that fight was one that drained you to the point of feeling like you could sleep for an entire century and still be tired.  

You knew the moment they got home, not because they were screaming--they were--but mostly you knew they got home because you could feel the castle react to Yoongi's rage and fear.

The floor seemed to shake beneath you, endless shouts of your name reverberating through the walls even though you were positive the boys hadn't even stepped foot into the castle yet. The walls rained dust down on you as they shook, causing you to cough. You knew you should feel afraid and bad for causing the boys to worry so much, but you were far too tired to give a flying fuck.

You heard the other boys calling--screaming--for you in fear that the blood on the stairs meant you were going to be found as a body instead of a breathing, tired, human-turned-vampire. Despite the mixture of Seokjin, Jungkook and the others, you could only hear Yoongi's voice. To you, it was like it was ripped from his throat in a terrifying mixture of anger and worry that brought flashbacks to his own past haunts bursting vividly from behind your eyelids.

You winced.

"I'm here!" You shouted with as much energy as you could muster--which wasn't much, but thankfully vampires had good hearing. Almost instantly, it sounded like a herd of horses was thundering their way up the steps towards you.

Yoongi was the first to find you in the bathroom, his shoes squealing on the tile as he stopped himself in the doorway, his wild eyes scanning every single fraction of your body before finally landing on your face and connecting with yours.

"Hi." You managed a small smile. "So...um...I made a mistake."

He nearly fell to the ground with relief, turning over his shoulder to the other boys. "She'll be fine." He murmured to the peanut gallery behind him. "Go clean up the mess outside."

"But Y/N--"

"I'll take care of her." It sounded more of a threat than a sweet promise, his furious glare boring through you.  The boys' mumbles quickly subsided at the sound of his anger as they made their way back down the stairs, leaving you and Yoongi alone.

Yoongi straightened himself, stepping into the bathroom only to close the door behind him. Anger seemed to radiate from his skin, making the air in the bathroom tense to the point that you were pretty sure you could cut it and eat it for dinner.  He stepped towards you, and for a moment, you weren't sure whether he was going to attack you or clean you up.

Apparently it was the latter, because he grabbed a rag from the cabinet behind him, running it under the faucet.

"Did we not say to stay inside the castle?" He nearly hissed, forcibly grabbing your arm to yank you up to your feet with his free hand--the one not holding a sopping wet rag.

"You said to not leave the castle. I assumed that meant castle grounds." You murmured with a sheepish smile as he took the towel from your grasp and threw it on the ground, replacing it with his fresh, wet one.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes raking up and down your form, exhausted and worried at the sheer amount of damage that there was. "You are troublesome." He motioned you closer and you obeyed, letting him spin you around so he could unzip the back of your dress. Your thoughts were too delayed, making it too late for you to realize what was happening even as he slipped the fabric free from your form, slowly undoing the back of your--

"Hey!" You tried to spin around but his one hand on your good shoulder kept you pinned in place.

"It is nothing I haven't seen before." He murmured, discarding your ruined bra to the side as he freed the wet towel from your grasp in favor of cleaning up your back for you.

"We--we were that close?"

He raised an eyebrow, meeting your stare in the mirror above the faucet--it sent a shock-bolt of unknown origin through your chest. "Yes."

"What--what were we like?"

He didn't answer you, only spun you around to face him so he could pay special attention to the apex of your neck and shoulder--the place where the creature had gotten in a good bite.

"Why do you never want to talk about how we were--only how I was? Only when it's convenient for you?"

He glared at your wounds instead of you, running the wet rag down your arm before turning to the sink to ring it out and soak it fresh.

"Did you have fun at least?" You sighed, letting him whirl you around to tend to your back once more.

His only response was a grunt as he slowly inched you towards the toilet seat. Once he got you sitting once more, he reached over to start filling the tub with hot, inviting water. "While you soak, I'll go get you some blood from the fridge."

"Okay."

He froze, his shoulders tensing as he turned to stare at you over his shoulder. "Okay?"

You nodded. "Okay."

"You..." He shook his head, clearing whatever thoughts had passed through his eyes. "You need to be more careful--that won't be the last monster you will encounter."

"What was it?"

He sighed, running his damp fingers through his hair as he stared at the water slowly filling in the tub. "We don't have names for them--there are too many varieties. All we know is that they only attack supernaturals like us. There's a hierarchy if you will--a food chain. Humans are at the bottom, then us, and then them." He turned and frowned at you. "You're really okay with drinking blood?"

"I am what I am now, right?" You murmured. "I do no good to you if I'm dead--or crazy."

Something softened in him and he tried to start towards the door, tried to leave you be--tried to run as only Min Yoongi is good at doing so. But, your hand on his wrist stopped him, freezing him before you.

"I'm sorry for scaring you again." You whispered, your gaze refusing to break from his. "That must have been terrifying--thinking I was...how much I mean to you."

His lips parted, like he wanted to say something but didn't know how. All he could do was stand there before you, lost and confused and hopeless.

"It's okay." Your eyes flit across his face. "Yoongi, I'm okay."

"Y/N--"

"I forgive you, Yoongi. I forgive you for turning me, for thinking that this is all your fault. I forgive you for pretending to be an asshole so I'd hate you; I forgive you for it all. The funny thing is, I don't remember everything yet, but I think I'm still in love with you; I don't think I ever stopped either."

Something so purely innocent flashed across his eyes before annoyance disguised as anger settled back in. In that moment, you thought he was cute. "You read the letters, didn't you?"

You chuckled, hooking your finger in a 'come hither' gesture so he was forced to bend down to be able to properly hear you. "Just shut up and kiss me."

Maybe it was because you were only wearing panties, maybe it was because you were hurt and you'd scared the shit out of him, maybe it was because Min Yoongi was so utterly tired of pretending like it was easy for him to stay away from you--but, for once in your vampire life, he obliged you.

#bts #BTS suga #bts suga scenario #min yoongi #bts min yoongi #min yoongi scenarios #bts angst #bts angst scenarios #bts scenarios #bts scenario #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #yoongi scenario #bts yoongi scenario #kpop #kpop angst #kpop angst scenario #kpop fluff #kpop fluff scenario #vampire bangtan #to take #Evangelene

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Only Angel [h.s.]

A/N: this one shot has been in the works for a while and i finally managed to finish it up :-) i hope you all enjoy it! sorry for any typos! feel free to leave your thoughts by my inbox and happy reading! all the love, andrea 💝

There are a lot of things that Y/N loves in the world– enough to fill up entire pages of a book, possibly. Not a thick book, though– no, more like a short chapter book like the ones she used to read back in first grade.

She adores general things, such as her family and friends, along with more specific things, like her cozy knitted blanket and the new season of Supernatural. And then there were the detailed, intimate things, such as popping her sweaters into the drying machine for a few minutes before slipping them on so that they would be toasty for the road, or petting her two-year-old Burmese cat, Sybil, in the curve right behind his left ear and feeling his deep purring against her thighs.

Then there was Harry, which Y/N tended to file under all three categories. For general, she fancies him for his quirky sense of humor and lovingly idiotic personality. For specific, she’d state that she loves the size of his hands because they were huge– big enough that one of his could easily hold both of her wrists together. And for intimate, Y/N has always been fascinated by Harry’s ears. A tad odd, perhaps, but she could never live down how small and adorable they were, and super sensitive, too. Whenever she would bite at them he would always let loose something in between a childish giggle and an anguished whine, signifying how torn he was between the pain and pleasure that derived from that certain area.

However, there is one exact thing that Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to categorize because her attachment to it is simply too much to put into words: riding Harry.

Fucking Harry was something completely different from everything else. It wasn’t so much for the physical pleasure, but more for the cognitive one– what really got her off was the way he would respond to her. How his body would seem to bend all out of shape in just the right way to cause her ego ecstasy, just as much as it would in between her legs.

It would start from the obvious aspects, such as the fact that she was able to get him to come for her without much of a struggle, and then the smaller things, like how the muscle on his jaw would tick as he stretched his neck, his head hitting the back board of the bed as his hips would buck up against her, trying to extract the most pleasure he could from her warm body. The sounds, too. The teeny whimpers and watery hiccups of rapture that would tear at his throat as Y/N would bounce steadily on his hard cock, his face burying itself into the skin of her neck to muffle pitiful moans as he would writhe and thrash under her command.

She loved it for the fact that whenever Harry asked her to ride him, it meant that he was especially needy that day, which also meant that he was a wound up mess for Y/N to unravel as she chose. At times like these, he’d become incredibly vocal, whining and whimpering as loud as his voice would allow– loud enough that even she was embarrassed for him. He would be extremely docile, letting Y/N do away with him without a second thought, as long as she promised to let him come at the end.

She would always take full advantage of these situations, pushing a doe-eyed, quivering Harry into the bed, sitting in between his legs and usually just jerking him off nice and slow, watching as he would throw his head back in desperation, pulling at his sweaty curls wildly, clenching his thighs, and leaning his head forward to look at her as she got him off. His lips would be set into a deep raspberry pout that held the slightest bit of amusement, laying back on his elbows as he stared at her with vulnerable yet controlling eyes while his hips would give short bursts of bucks here and there, trying to finish himself. Lots of praising, as well. The gooey, warm air would fill with teeny wisps of, “Jus’ like tha’, pet. Getting me off nice and hard. Always know how to make me feel so fucking good, don’t ya? Know how t'make Daddy spill, hm, baby?” as well as, “Atta girl, petal. Fuck me so bloody good. No one can do it like you.” 

Most times, when he saw he couldn’t swindle her into doing what he wanted, he’d end up begging for it. Y/N would usually ignore him, going even slower just to make the view last– God, did she want it to last.

Harry, when whittled down to this utterly primal state where he had no more teasing and praise left in him, was one picture of many she wished she could permanently etch into her eyelids so that she would be able to see it any time she pleased. He would lie there naked, with his legs spread out widely, feet flat on the bed with his knees bent, fingers tight around the railings of the headboard per Y/N’s instructions. His chest and abdomen would be flushed a painful shade of red as his skin would drip sweat onto the sheets, his eyes watery and pleading as his back would arch off of the mattress, hips jerking from side to side in an attempt to reach his goal. Y/N would lay next to him, her body tucked into his side, stroking him off as she would plant sloppy kisses down the length of his jaw and neck, biting at his lips and swallowing down the pants of “Wanna c-come. Feels so good– please let me. Been hard all day, kitten, please?” or “Fuck me faster, baby. Faster! Y'know the footie match later tonight? I’ll eat you out during every commercial break, I promise. Just p-please!”

Y/N would usually give in (who would be insane enough not to?) and finish by riding him off quickly, laying over his post-orgasm-weakened body and running her fingers through his tangled, damp hair, planting gentle kisses to his pink-splattered cheeks as he’d let his eyes lull shut, swallowing thickly and murmuring a raspy, “Shit, you’re amazing.”

Today was different, however, in the sense that she was feeling a bit more sympathetic because of the way Harry had stumbled in through the door of their bedroom at 12:44 at night, utterly beat from a full day of filming and practically oozing neediness. His usually twinkling seaglass eyes were dimmed to a dull, mossy green, his short hair a floppy mess, and his shoulders sagging heavily as he tripped over his big feet, slumping face-first into the bed with a defeated grunt.

“Hard day?” Y/N crawls over to where he is, nudging him onto his back and snuggling up against his depleted form, hugging his torso and sponging her lips against his forehead, brushing away the creases between his eyebrows.

“’M so fucking tired,” Harry mumbles weakly, slinging an arm flimsily across her waist and pulling her further into his warm embrace. He turns his body to the side, coming face-to-face with her concerned expression and kissing the very tip of her nose lovingly. “Everything went to shit today.”

“What happened?”

“Well, for starters, I asked for two packets of ranch dressing in my salad but they only gave me one, and it wasn’t even ranch! It was blue cheese!” He huffs in exasperation, crinkling his nose up in disgust. “You know how much I hate blue cheese!”

Y/N rolls her eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re such a diva.”

“I am not!” He screeches, proving that he is, indeed, a diva.

“I specifically asked for ranch and the assistant said she wrote it down. She had one job!” Harry exclaims, throwing his arms up into the air for emphasis and then letting them fall onto the bed, splayed above his head. “I didn’t complain, though. I kinda just lounged around set pouting. But as if that wasn’t enough, while we were doing the scene where we’re all covered in mud, one of the cameras busted and we had to sit there for almost an hour while they searched for the replacement. The mud was making my skin all itchy and it dried into my hair. Took me forever to get it out.”

“My poor baby.” Y/N wails dramatically, cupping Harry’s cheeks in her hands and pressing kisses all across his nose and eyelids.

He narrows his eyes at her, a begrudging huff puffing warm air against her cheek. “I am a poor baby. Mud, Y/N. Crusty, smelly, itchy mud.”

She rubs her thumb over one of his cheekbones and brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth, knowing that the best thing for her to do during this type of rare temper tantrum is to comfort him. “I know, dear. But aside from that, did you have any fun?”

Harry’s ears perk up, his eyes lighting up faintly as a teeny smile carves a dimple into his face. “Nolan complimented me on my scenes today. Said I was a great choice for the character.”

Y/N can’t contain her smile, fondness completely taking over her face. He had worked so hard (religiously going over lines in the mornings while brushing his teeth and at night in the shower, hiring a vocal coach to help him with the accent for the role, and some hardcore method acting at home, refusing to get out of character) to get this role and the fact that he was getting recognition for it made her so incredibly proud.

“That’s amazing, honey. So amazing, I think we should celebrate, maybe in the form of a creamy dessert.” She pats his strong chest happily, getting up to go get the jug of Rocky Road ice cream she had bought earlier when she was out doing the groceries.

Harry’s hand stops her, his fingers gripping hers and yanking her back on top of him. Y/N blinks down at him with confusion as he cradles her jaw in both of his humungous palms, tucking strands of her hair behind her ears.

“I was actually hoping for another type of a congratulatory gift,” he bites into the skin just under his bottom lip, the edges of his mouth tilting up coyly as he arches his eyebrows up suggestively.

Y/N’s lips purse, trying to hide a grin of her own as she sits up to straddle his lap, eyes skimming down his body temptingly. “Rain check on the ice cream?”

“Definitely,” Harry lifts his arms above his head, waiting for her to take charge. His black Ramones t-shirt drifts up his torso, revealing a sliver of tummy where his happy trail hides. She follows the tiny hairs with her sight, watching them disappear alluringly under the waist band of his red Calvin Klein briefs.

She glimpses up at him as his eyes twinkle with mischief, craning his head to the side to allow the veins in his neck to become more prominent under the silky, slightly tanned skin, inviting her to take a bite. He’s teething at the corner of his mouth (knowing good and well how much that gets her going), his sharp cheekbones and jaw on full display. His legs shift under her weight, toes curling impatiently.

Y/N loops her fingers into his belt, toying with the metal buckle teasingly and reminiscing in the low, desperate whine that comes from deep in his chest. She grips the hem of his tee, coasting the soft material up his body, feeling the warm muscles of his abdomen tighten at the feathery sensation. Leaning down, she pastes wet, hot kisses on his simmering skin, suckling up along each fern tattoo, up the spine of the butterfly and giving a rough lick to his puffy left nipple, smiling against his flesh as he keens quietly. She pushes the shirt over his chin and runs it up his arms until it is level with his eyes, using it as a makeshift blind fold.

“Y-You gonna…?” Harry’s voice is trembling and unbelievably thick as he swallows heavily, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His arms are still above his head, hands now gripping the railings of the headboard, knuckles white with anticipation.

“I dunno. Should I?” Y/N skims her hands up his biceps, her words tickling the shell of his right ear. “Or do you think you can be a good enough boy not to need them?”

Harry inhales as if he has just been shot, chest rising but not falling as he seems to choke on a breath. He doesn’t answer– no nod of his head or sound of agreement– which leads Y/N to believe something else.

“Unless…do you want to be cuffed?” She asks, mildly shocked.

Harry is the type of person who, alongside being the dominant in the relationship, is very touchy-feely in general, meaning that trait amplifies during sex; whenever she handcuffs him, it’s usually as a punishment. But, apparently, he fancies it at the moment.

“Yeah,” he finally huffs out, nodding his head meekly and even though she can’t see his eyes under the blindfold, she knows he probably has shut them in embarrassment. His cheeks tinge even redder and he turns his face to the side as if to break eye contact. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Y/N can’t help but snort out a laugh, squeezing his shoulders jestingly. “You can’t even see me!”

“But I can feel you looking at me.” He mumbles, his jaw tightening.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, it’s just…you’ve never asked so I’m kind-of in shock right now,” she reaches over him, opening the drawer in the mahogany night stand and sifting around until she feels the distinct coldness of the metal slide against her fingertips. She brings them out along with the keys, unlocking them and looping one velvet-covered cuff around his left wrist, locking it, looping the middle chain over one of the railings and repeating the procedure with the opposite wrist.

“Check ‘em for me,” she orders as she reaches back over to the drawer to return the key and pulls out two more toys– a new bottle of lube and a vibrating cock ring.

Harry gives the handcuffs a couple of tugs, proving their security. His arms then slump into the bed, fingers looping around the excess chain link as a way to keep a grip on himself. “They’re good.”

Y/N hums her response, having set the cock ring to the side and being distracted with getting the plastic seal off of the lube cap. He waits as patiently as possible, hips jerking every now and then when he feels her weight shift along his groin. The distinct sound of plastic crumpling nips at his ears and his brows furrow.

“New box of condoms?” He asks, blinking behind the cloth, slightly confused because he swears they just opened up a new one last week.

“Lube,” Y/N corrects, letting the wrapper fall onto the floor as she pops open the blue-tinted bottle of KY Ultragel. “It’s the warming kind.”

“Bet that feels incredible,” Harry sighs wistfully, wishing he could feel something else other than the latex of a condom.

“You’re about to find out.” Y/N sets the bottle onto his naked chest and he jumps slightly at the coldness of the plastic. She swiftly unbuckles his belt, tugging his briefs and jeans down and off, returning to her original seat in his lap but now with his semi-hard pressing into her underwear. She takes the flowy material of her Winnie the Pooh patterned night gown, bunching it up her thighs so Harry will be able to get a perfect view of her in a second.  

“We’re barebacking?!” He can’t help the excitement that fills his voice, his arms trying to reach forward instinctively but being yanked back by his restraints.

Going bare for them was something of a rarity because the pills tend to bloat Y/N pretty badly and the last thing Harry wants is for her to be in pain because of him. But there would be times when she would insist on it– said she wanted to feel what he was like without a piece of flimsy plastic– and he wasn’t one to complain.

“Yep,” Y/N reaches up, moving the t-shirt up enough so Harry can peek at her.

A huge lump lodges in his throat as he looks up at his girl, baby pink night gown scrunched up around her milky thighs, the color matching her undies. She looks so innocently fresh-faced and lovely, hair a fluffy, unbrushed mess and the outline of her nipples printed against the cotton of her clothes. The only thing she was missing was a gigantic gift bow.

“I know–” Y/N grunts with effort as she hikes the gown further up, annoyed that it keeps riding down, “–that you like watching me touch myself so…”

She finishes with a little shrug, teething at the corner of her mouth as she eyes him, waiting for a response.

Harry nods furiously, eyes widening as his cock gives a painful jerk and he’s a hair short from collapsing with arousal. “Y'sure? I mean, this is your time to do whatever y'want to me and I don’t want you to waste it trying to–”

“This is what I want to do,” her lips twitch into a sly smile.

He stares at her for a second and then sighs shakily. “Then yes– fuck, yes, poppet, please. Love t'see you be dirty.”

Y/N nods shyly, breathing out heavily. “So, like, do you want me to feel myself everywhere or to just go at it right away or…?”

“Do whatever you feel like doing but just do something.” Harry pants, hips swiveling to rub his now full hard-on against her bum for some minor relief.

“Alright.”

She starts off at her chest, groping her breasts into the palms of her hands and giving each nipple a tentative squeeze, feeling pleasure spike in her spine. She keeps at it for a few more seconds, the only sound in the room being Harry’s franticly growing breathes mingling with her own. Her right hand starts to drift down to her center, fingers stopping just above the waist band of her cherry-printed panties.

“Tell me what to do.” She swallows thickly, air puffing from her stinging lungs. She eyes Harry with fascination, his own irises glossy as his sight is glued to her chest, mouth slightly agape in awe.

He licks his purple-tinted, puffy lips, pulling at the cuffs in an attempt to get himself back in control. “You see the long mirror over there? Grab it and prop it up against the end of the bed to face us. Place a pillow in between my legs and lay down on your back fo’ me, angel. Facing the mirror so I can get a good view of that pretty cunt, yeah?”

Y/N does as told, quick footsteps patting against the floor as she sets everything up, then lays in between Harry’s legs and spreads her own wide open, feeling the cold air of the room caress the wet patch that has pooled in her underwear. She stares at their reflection in the mirror, his hair a disheveled mess, flexing arms tied back, cheeks and neck painted bright red as his sweaty chest heaves. She herself is nothing but tangled hair and damp skin, but her position makes it easier to keep her night gown from covering her crotch so that she’s on fully display for his liking.

“What now?” Y/N tilts her head back, locking onto Harry’s upside down gaze and blinking at him with fake innocence.

“Just rub yourself for me, peach. Nice and slow.” His voice cracks at the end, resulting in him swallowing audibly. His prick is throbbing for attention under the pillow and he ruts up against it subtlety, trying to keep himself in reign.

She coasts her hand down her abdomen, letting it dip inside her wrecked undies and rubbing her wet clit in long, slow circles. Her legs twitch and a slow burn of bliss ignites in the pit of her stomach, causing her inhales to hitch.

“Faster.” Harry croaks from behind, staring at her intently through the mirror.

He wishes he could run his hands through her hair, tugging at it as he whispers what he wants her to do. Wishes he could run his fingers up and down the length of her arms and feel her muscles clenching as she speeds up, helping by guiding her fingers into herself. Wishes he could cup his hands under her creamy thighs and to keep her legs spread nice and wide, digging his nails into the supple flesh and feeling her sweat slide against his fingertips. But he can’t– won’t– because he knows it’ll be so much hotter for her to do it herself. And he likes the feeling of being helpless at times– of not being in control. The adrenaline of not knowing what is to come is better than anything, the excitement tenfold, and the orgasm a hundred times that. So he restrains himself from begging her to release him and focuses on her instead.

Y/N picks up her pace, the weak simmer inside her now dialing up to a mild boiling. Teeny gasps begin to choke out from her throat and she can feel her pulse speeding up, the sound of blood rushing through her head muffling her hearing. She nudges at the tiny bulb within her clit, feeling sparks erupt from the base of her spine and travel up her neck and face, numbing her mind with ecstasy. Her fingers are slick with her arousal, her crotch throbbing as she uses her whole hand to drive herself towards release.

Harry’s voice breaks through her trance, sharp and clear. “Off. Take ‘em off.”

Y/N knows exactly what he’s talking about and it takes every drop of will power to stop her movements. She roughly pushes her panties down her thighs and knees, kicking them off and watching them fall off the edge of the bed. She spreads her legs again, bending her knees up and apart while planting her feet flat against the bed to keep her stable. Her head falls back to look at him, tears of desperation squeezing out of the corners of her eyes as her mouth falls open, stuttered wisps of air blowing out.

Harry can tell she’s waiting for his next order and it turns him fucking on that she will let him run everything she is doing to herself.

“Bring you’re hand up here.” He jerks his chin towards it, watching as she raises her quivering hand up to his face, the dim light of the lamps reflecting off of the cloudy liquid that slides down her fingers. He takes them into his mouth without hesitation, swirling his tongue around to collect her juices. She’s tangy, with an undertone of sweetness– the usual. Her scent fills the air around him and it’s driving him insane.

“Use your other hand, love. Two fingers.” He speaks through a full mouth, sucking on her fingers daintily as he stares down at her enlarged eyes and pink cheeks. “Go on, then.”

Y/N doesn’t have to be told again, slowly sinking her two middle fingers into her tight, slick hole. She starts pumping them, utter euphoria rippling through her entire body and causing her to let loose a shamefully loud moan.

“That’s it, pet,” Harry watches with hungry eyes as his girl fucks herself with her fingers, whining as he sees her dripping out onto the rumpled sheets. “Fuck, you look absolutely beautiful for me.”

Y/N scoots up higher so that her head can fall onto his shoulder, the action causing the pillow in between their bodies to rub against his leaking cock. He hisses, mumbling something along the lines of “God, gonna come if y'keep that up.”

When she’s nuzzled up against him, he turns his head, pressing soft kisses to her forehead with whispers of, “Feels okay? You’re so good to me, moppet– doing this just for me. Love seeing my good girl be so naughty.”

Y/N swims in his compliments, allowing her eyes to lull closed as Harry presses his hot mouth against her temple, his warm breathing puffing against her damp hairline. “Y'gonna come for me?”

“Y-Yeah,” she sighs, curling her digits upwards and a wave of pleasure so intense smacks into her that she thinks she might’ve blacked out for a second. “But not before I’m through with you.”

With that, Y/N smoothly draws her fingers from within herself, flipping over and sitting into his lap, her calves tucked under his thighs. She doesn’t bother wiping off, twisting from side to side until she finds the bottle of lube. She squirts out a decent-sized glob of gel into her palm as she looks down at Harry’s engorged prick, pale green and blue veins pulsing under the thin skin, his head tinted different shades of pink. Not wasting any time, she slathers the liquid onto him, working him from base to tip with quick, fluent flicks of her wrist.

Harry is in what he guesses to be the line where heaven and hell meet because on one side, the thermal lube begins to work immediately, seeming to draw the warmth from his heated skin and using it as a catalyst to intensify the raw pleasure Y/N is already giving him. Precome is beading out of his hole steadily, running over the tip and down his shaft, blending in with the Ultragel, making a cloudy blue-tinted mess. On the opposite side, however, he really rather have her warmth wrapped around him and he fears that if she keeps stroking him, they won’t get to that part in time.

He focuses his blurry sight on a determined Y/N, her head tilted down to give his cock her full and undivided attention. Her hair falls across her ruddy cheeks, lashes casting a shadow across the tops, and he finds her so unbelievably adorable, even while she’s doing the dirty deed of jerking him off. He watches her with adoration, his eyes bright with lust and doey with love, whimpering with utter need.

Y/N’s tongue peeks out of the corner of her mouth in concentration and Harry can’t help but yelp out a laugh in between a stream of moans. She looks up, startled, eyes owlish with surprise. “What is it?”

He tilts his head to the side where it rests against his shoulder, the left corner of his mouth curling into a soft lopsided smirk, his nose scrunching up with fondness. “You’re just proper cute, s'all. Even when you’re about to fuck me into another dimension.”

She looks away from his eyes, a gentle smile making home across her colorful cheeks. Her voice is meek and humble. “Shut up.”

“Make me.” Harry waggles his eyebrows jokingly.

“If you insist.” Y/N reaches over and grabs at something that’s just out of his line of view. She holds it up between her thumb and forefinger, swaying the circular rubber contraption  from side-to-side.

Harry’s eyes immediately widen, face paling. “Bloody hell.”

She squeezes a bit of lube onto the rim of the cock ring, spreading it all over its circumstance and setting it onto Harry lightly, where it slides down about a fourth of his length and halts.

Y/N tuts as she shifts back slightly, allowing her a bit more space to grip the ring. “S'gonna be a snug fit, Har. Brace yourself.”

Despite the warning, Harry still screams. It’s not that it hurts, but he’s so fucking hard and so ready to fucking burst that something as tight as that toy is bound to dismantle him entirely. She works the circle down his prick, twisting and turning it, the rubber expanding just enough to accommodate to his size. Once it’s down to his base, pressing gently against his throbbing balls, Y/N dives her hand under his thigh and fishes out a tiny remote.

“It vibra–?!” He’s cut off by the ring quaking to life, jittering at a medium pace around his cock, causing ripples of white hot pleasure to surge up through the bulging veins under his skin.

Harry thrashes against the bed, the handcuffs biting into the skin of his wrists and keeping him from falling off. Y/N holds him down with her thighs by sitting securely in his lap, watching with fascination as he throws his head back and worries his bottom lip between his two front teeth, trying to stifle the whimpers and whines that are rawing his throat. His eyes are screwed shut and his Adam’s Apple bobs thickly as he swallows down his keening, breathing stuttering as he arches his hips up without consent. The muscles along his arms flex and contract with his movement, straining hard against the shackles, chiseled by exertion. The skin under his ferns tattoos is growing a dangerous shade of red, along with his chest, which has a thin sheen of sweat glistening from his pores. His prick is a dull maroon shade under the thick layer of lubricant, spilling heavily now as it twitches with longing.

“Baby, I– shit, Y/N, please!” Harry throws his body forwards, neck leaning towards her as much as his restraints allow, which guarantees bruises along his wrists. His cheeks are wet with tears of neediness and his swollen lower lip is quivering, hair mattered to the sides of his neck as his eyes bleed with a desperate plead. “God, just– ah, ahhh…fuck, love, just take me. Do it now, I can’t hold…any longer! Please!”

“Oh, c'mon, H. You can do it a little longer.” Y/N clucks, leaning down to press sloppy, gooey kisses up the dip between his hips, following his pelvic bone up to his belly button and kissing a circle around it, then continuing her trek upwards.

Harry’s full on sobbing now, jerking in distress at the tiny euphoric bombs she’s placing all around the most sensitive parts of his body. “Stop!”

She shakes her head, causing her lips to brush back and forth against his sensitive nipples. “’M having too much fun.”

He flails from side-to-side, the cuffs cutting into his skin even though they’re lined with velvet. Y/N reaches up, wrapping her hand loosely around Harry’s throat, not tightening but just to get his attention by digging her nails into the underside of his sharp jaw. He mewls quietly, sounding like a scolded puppy, forcing himself to remain as still as possible. She skims the nails of the opposite hand up and down the length of his prick, swiping her thumb over his tip and sucking harder against swollen rosy nipple when she hears him yelp. “Stay still and I’ll give you what you want.”

Harry nods his head meekly, slumping into the cushioning below him and taking in deep inhales to try and clear his mind of the torture. He curls his fingers into week fists as he feels Y/N suckle along his collarbone and up his neck, pecking lightly at his chin and nipping at his bottom lip.

“Look at me, Harry.” Her voice is soft yet authoritative, resulting in him cracking his eyes open. His view is blurry at first from having them shut so tightly for a while but after he focuses on her, he wishes he’d kept them shut.

She looks so beautiful and tempting with her plump lips, big eyes and amused smirk. The hand that was around his throat goes to grip his whole jaw, forcing him to maintain eye contact as she ruts her bare heat against his vibrating cock, her warmth and dampness mixing with his and it takes every cell in him not to lash out.

Y/N brushes their noses together, breaths mingling as she maintains full eye contact with him. “No matter what, you keep looking at me.”

“Okay.” Harry swallows heavily, ready to accept anything she has to offer.

When he feels her start to sink over him, he knows he’s done for. Her walls are velvety smooth, warm and tight, encompassing him perfectly. Every ridge, nook and cranny catches on his skin, working him over better than he ever thought he’d feel. Y/N makes him keep their gazes locked as she makes to reach his base, getting off on watching Harry’s eyes slowly shatter into carnal instincts.

When she finally thunks down damply against his thighs, feeling his balls against her ass, she speaks up quietly. “What d'you want me to do?”

He stares at her over his thick lashes, eyes depleted and foggy yet bright with arousal. She’s still in her nightgown, which he finds hilariously ironic considering they’re covered in tiny Winnie the Pooh characters and he knows for sure they wouldn’t approve of what she’s doing right now. She looks pretty and petulant and adorable, yet she exudes an aura of quiet power over him that leaves his mind reeling. He loves every second of it.

With a rough hiccup, Harry answers. “Ride me ‘til I pass out, sweetheart.”

And that’s precisely what she does. Well, not to the point where he passes out, but close enough. Y/N starts off slow, squeezing around him like he’d instructed her how to do so many times before, swinging her hips in subtle circles to give him the maximum amount of sensations she could offer.

Harry is a weeping mess, throat aching with hoarse, shaking moans and broken growls of rapture as he feels himself vibrating within her snugness, prodding certain points inside her that have her melting onto him. Y/N herself is matching his sounds of ecstasy, keening and humming out her gratitude as she bounces steadily on his engorged prick. Her release is thrumming at the bottom of her spine, sending shivers coursing through her entire being as her thighs slap wetly against his, full of nothing but raw, unfiltered lust.

Even though Y/N had established a certain amount of dominance, there was still a permanent part of her that loved having him take over her, and Harry knows it. He can see it in how the look in her irises molds from one of vehemence to one of warm pleading. And so a silent agreement comes into play, Harry clearing his throat to speak up.

“C'mere, pet.” His voice is strained, but with a strong tone.

Y/N tucks her face into his neck, angled so that her ear is close to his mouth to hear what he has to say. “I wan’ em on my face.”

It takes a second for her to understand what he’s suggesting, but it clicks into place fairly fast. By obeying his request, she is relinquishing a part of the dominance she has over him, but it’s what she wants. She craves to have him both under her control, while being under his at the same times.

Harry looks at her with a muted wash of victory in his dark mossy irises, the edges of his lips quirking into a triumphant grin. “What’re you waiting fo’? In my mouth. Now.”

Y/N shifts up, releasing her hold on his face and stretching her arms above her head, tangling their fingers together over one of the headboard railings. He gives her hand a weak squeeze, thumbing over her knuckles lovingly. She then does as told, shifting upwards a little further so that her clothed chest falls right into his face.

Harry licks his chapped lips, reaching up to suck at one of her nipples, tonguing it over the fabric, leaving it damp and pebbled. He repeats the procedure on the opposite nipple, pursing his lips over it and squeezing between both. “Love sucking your cute little nipples, darling. Love having you in my mouth.”

Y/N gasps lightly as he gives a rough thrust upwards, pushing himself inside her rashly. His jaw goes taut as he addresses her with a state of predatory-like order, thrusting up into her again and reveling in the squeaky croak she yaps. “Uncuff my hands so I can help you fuck me.”

She does just that, unlocking the metal with shaking fingers, massaging over his bruised wrists with care and kissing the stinging skin to make it feel better.

It doesn’t take long for them to pick up a fierce, racing rhythm, Harry squeezing and spanking Y/N’s ass as he keeps a tight grip on her while she marks deep purple hickeys into the skin of his throat and jaw, her own hands buried in his messy chestnut curls, tugging at them with desire. He’s propped back against the headboard and jolting with their movement, fingers hidden under the fabric of her nightwear and marking her skin with scratches. “God, your amazing, Y/N. Such a tight little cunt, fucking hell.”

She shows her thanks in the form of love bites, murmuring against his hot skin. “You’re so hot, Harry. Love you inside me…”

“Yeah? Y'like m'cock, baby? Like it all the way up here?” His ego gets off on her praise and he coasts a hand onto her abdomen, patting it reassuringly. “Like feeling me all the way in your tummy, hm?”

Y/N nods her head frantically, fisting at his hair and ignoring the sweat that is sticking her pajamas to her back. Harry kisses her feverishly, but even now there’s a certain caring undertone beneath all of the animalistic biting and sucking. A type of secret message that only touch can decode, in which he’s reminding her that he loves her and loves how she makes him feel. That he wants her and only her and that alone, matched with the choppy jolts of his hips, is enough to send her spiraling.

When she comes, Harry wraps her up in his arms and cradles her to his chest, peppering her nose with his pursed lips as he nibbles her bottom one, whispering words of encouragement into her mouth for her to swallow, as well as his tongue.

“Such a nice girl fo’ me, Y/N. Fuck me like no one else ever has, all warm and snug and so soft, angel. Such a sweet angel– my only angel. ’M just happy getting you stuck to me. Happy having you on me and under me, taking m'cock so deep and loving it. Never wanna let you go.”

She spills with bright flashes of colors and bright webs of lightning behind her shut eyelids, going numb everywhere except for where Harry’s taking her in with his mouth. Along the side of her neck, in between her breasts, nipping at her shoulders and sucking at her chin. And when he himself is toppling messily over the edge, he still finds it in himself to encourage her– to keep her from waning on him.

“C'mon, peach, you’ve got it. Keep riding me for a bit longer. Jus’ a few more seconds…Tha’s my girl, Y/N. Gonna make me spill so much into you. I’m–’M gonna…fuck, so close, baby, so close. Little bit more! Squeeze, nice and hard fo’ me. Atta girl. Ahhh…”

Y/N hides her face into the junction between his throat and shoulder, but Harry wants to see her while it goes down. “Look at me, Y/N.”

She lifts her innocent gaze up shyly as she continues to bounce drunkenly on his prick, holding grueling eye contact and watching with bated breath as he rips at the seams, eyebrows furrowing and nose scrunching, jaw going slack as his eyes roll into the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah! Ooh, fuck me, moppet. Fuck me so bloody good, mmmh…”

Harry bursts with the air disintegrating in his lungs as his fingertips dig memeories into her hips, slamming her down onto him so hard he’s sure she’ll never feel empty ever again. He squirts out in thick, hot spurts that ooze out of her slowly as she plops her sweaty forehead against his bare, broad shoulder, revering in how he kisses at her ears gently and chuckles wistfully into her mussed, sweaty hair.

They sit there for a bit like that, with Harry still tucked inside Y/N (she'd switched off the cock ring as soon as he had finished) as he sways her back and forth gently, lips pressed in between her eyebrows, nose puffing air against the crown of her head and calves splayed over her own.  

“Y'know what’s funny?” Y/N speaks up all of the sudden, voice throaty from the toll of her screams.

“Hm?” Harry hums absentmindedly, too engrossed in rubbing away the soft crinkles in between her brows with his warm mouth.

“You call me an angel while we’re fucking.” She snorts, amused. “What a paradox, huh?”

“Your post-orgasm phase is such a philosophical one.” Harry grins all dopey and endeared, thumbing over her wet lips affectionately and snuggling her further into his chest. “All I can think about right now is that ice cream you mentioned.”

Y/N pouts with faux disappointment, mind still floating around the room. “No, but really, Harry.”

Harry sighs with surrender, blinking at her with amusement. “Y'wanna know what I have to say?”

“No, forget I even asked about it.” She deadpans sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

He gives her bottom a full spank, tutting in a playfully scolding manner. “Watch it.”

A raspy giggle escapes her throat and her hips give a tiny swivel, which in return results in him hissing in overstimulation, mumbling a squeaky, “cut it out.”

“Sure thing. Now tell me.”

“I think that…” Harry kinks one of his eyebrows up suggestively, tucking noodles of hair behind her ears and purposefully dragging out his response just to annoy her.

It works, the shove Y/N gives his shoulder proving it. “Finish already.”

“I think that even the nicest angel’s gotta tarnish her halo every once in a while.”

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[lilmissmousey]

Stirrings (Denial (AKA: this is sooooo not a date prologue)

Bzzt.

Vegeta’s fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, “Hey hot stuff. What you doin’? ;)”

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He’d only been working at Capsule Corp for less than six months and she was already way to friendly. Didn’t she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: “I have sandwiches.”

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn’t give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma’s private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the “regular” people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma’s work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he’d feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he’d ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she’d cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman…

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, “UM, you’re welcome!”

“I didn’t ask you to buy me lunch.” He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often.”

“Wha-damnit woman I’m going to sue you for sexual harassment!” Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, “why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?”

Bulma laughed, “Not when it comes to you!” She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, “I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, “Not that it’s any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here.”

“Pffft,” Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, “What I was going to say is that they make you look smart.”

“Well, of course they-Hey!”

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, “Hurry up grumpy. I’m starving.”

-

He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma’s desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta’s shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He’d had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma’s own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, “What’s that?” He asked around the mouthful.

“Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I’m just adjusting the pod accordingly.” She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

“Hmpf, some genius.” He teased.

“Hey bucko,” Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, “it’s beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don’t you forget it.” she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn’t going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until…

…She smiled at him.

He hadn’t caught her staring, didn’t even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, “What?” She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, “It was pissing me off,” he grumbled, “the hair, I mean. I’m going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don’t look like a damn mess. It’s a health hazard around here anyways.”

“O-oh,” Bulma smiled, “don’t worry about it. I’ve uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t!” Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, “It just, its-”

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, “Whatever you say hot stuff.” She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He’d owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn’t matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He’d been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin gang and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he’d be kicked out. Vegeta didn’t mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he’d done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.

Fuck.

Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw the blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, “And where do you think you’re going tiger? You’re starting right now.”

“B-Bulma!” Dr. Briefs had stammered, “This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn’t wish to associate with us-”

Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta’s shoulder to grin at her father, “Daddy, he is JUST who we need.”

“B-but princess-”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, “I’m Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It’s a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You’re office is down the hall, it’s the door right next to mine. You start immediately.”

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, “Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you’re cute to boot.”

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he’d been told no. They’re upbringings couldn’t have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn’t eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, “Eat.” He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He’d stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn’t know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She’d never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?

—

Here is is my friends; the prologue to Denial! Thank you all for the encouragement and kindness you have shown my stories. This is for all of you ❤️

#vegeta #lawyer vegeta #bulma #scientist bulma #vegebul #vegeta x bulma #dbz #dragonball z #au #mouse wrote a fic

[mynameisdreartblog]

Architectural Styles 3

Libra: Umayyad. I've made a mistake when ordering… something and I put the wrong number at the end of the address. That wouldn't be so much of a problem if I lived like a normal person within normal circumstances, but that's not me; I live in Helltown, Greater Syria [Hebrew: עיר גיהינום] (which is just the rural zone), and now my package has gone to a nearby bandit fortress. If we go off a stereotyped assumption, they probably don't take too kindly to visitors. [,,,] Of course, we shouldn't make assumptions about their way of life, but their outward appearance is telling me that I'm not welcome: what with the pillars adorned with the still-bleeding heads of their fallen enemies, the rabid guard dogs gnawing at the rotting flesh of their hind legs, the sheer number of artillery aligning the scouting posts, and the spooky flag with skulls on it. It's definitely scary, but it's still where they sent my work, which consists of King Tut's carcass that they send to us to decontaminate before they send it to European countries to exhibitionism… I wasn't supposed to tell you any of that, but you're welcome. […] Ugh, I'm gonna have to do this, otherwise the Egyptian government will never trust us with anything ever again. So, I need you to come along with me, Enoch, and we'll confront it together… Alright, <Yellen knocks on the giant steel door of the fortress.> ᴴᵉʸ, ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᶦⁿˀ [,,,] Whelp, that didn't work. Let's just abandon our current condition, travel east, and start a new life as telemarketers… Oh. «Hello, shit-lickers! Why have you come to my fortress, disrupt my routine, and demand for my space?» Uh… yeah, I'm here to tap your mom! «What? You are not allowed to tap my mother!» Well, I'm gonna do it anyways, and it's gonna be a threesome with Enoch right here! «W-wow, that makes me so angry; it makes me wanna… wanna throw something at you!» Yeah, throw your most expensive and heaviest object at me, why don't you? «Yeah, maybe I'll throw this sarcophagus at you!» Please do!

Cancer: Mar del Plata. I remember when they told me that they loved me, and I could recall everything in that moment: the texture of the bus seat, the feel of the air against my skin, exactly how itchy my hair was, & the view outside of the window. I could recall everything I saw gazing outside: everything so nice, cozy, & bucolic. Everything was so nice, and the common life was almost artistic to look at. Time almost ceased to expand (as to the false notion that it moves forward), and it felt like this was made for me <this is the point where Great God Plan by Sd Laika plays: a great art pop song that really captures this moment.> […] That moment seemed to've struck a deep nerve somewhere in my brain, and the only way I can describe it is that it's akin to a nostalgia for a place I've never lived in, and it wasn't even off the gulf of San Matias… the grassland outside of the bus strangely reminded me of the clear waters, the skeleton of the bus reminded me of my own home with a couple of loose nails and all, and the window reminded me of the limited view I had with my newborn eyes. […] It felt I was drowning, but it was a pleasurable version of it: I didn't mind the surrounding fluids overtaking my space, as I believed it benefited me at the time. I could be mistaken, but maybe it was some sort of reconciliation for when the Atlantic waters caved in and flooded the depressions that shaped the land bordering the gulf. As I'm saying this, I can vaguely remember it happening, but I don't know if that was me: I was born in extremely rural Cordoba (that's what my mom always told me at least), but yet this is so familiar to me as if I lived in Viedma. […] Still, I was so moved by it that… that, I was woken up by what sounded like a car alarm, and the smell of fumes. Time was still stopped and you could sense a look of extreme unease in my eyes. Tall, skinny, & dark as ash with claw-like fingers, and in its path were phallic-shaped footprints that warned of arcane lust: it arose out from behind her and edged closer towards the bus… fun memories.

Virgo: Brutalism. «Nicknames: Honey Badger, The Crow, The Sheriff. That zoology class was the treasure trove of nicknames. Some of the nicknames that came outta there were Black Widow, a girl who sat in front of us who was still into the emo scene. There was something going on with her where she was chill for a while, but she'd flip out at any minor inconvenience. We had another one called Foghorn Leghorn, and she was someone who was just insanely loud. She could be upstairs and we'd be downstairs with the door open and we'd just know instantly that she was talking. […] Now, we have Shorty Shorts: a dude who was incredibly short, and had that body type that those dudes in the 40s had where you couldn't tell whether they were fat or strong. Every time he went to the gym, he'd just have shorts right up to his waste, so that's why we called him that. […] Lastly, we have Dr. Ben, who was that person who seemed to've swapped identity every month or so. We got along well with him, but he got his nickname 'cause he was in organic chemistry with, my buddy, Alyosha. And this was the kind of stuff he'd do specifically: picture us in the cafeteria and I'm getting cereal. Alyosha would bump into me and act like he didn't know me and he'd become very aggressive for an act. Alyosha, for the first four years he taught science, he hated all of that paperwork. So a student came up to him with an exertion forum, and he took it and literally burned it with a lighter due to how much he hated signing those papers.» […] «"You know how many doctorates that guy has? And do you know how many you have? You have zero, and that dude had several, so I think I'm gonna trust that dude over you." And that's how the nickname Dr. Ben was born.» Wow, that was such a cool story, prof. Domovoi. It was so cool, in fact, that it made me wanna get up, leave the classroom unnoticed, contemplate my possession of reading comprehension, and return back also unnoticed. It's been two hours, please let me leave.

Sagittarius: Palladian. When I was eleven, I went to a summer camp for aspiring stage performers, and they said to keep away from red wine and stick to strong spirits. I guess it's just assumed that anyone who goes on stage is an alcoholic, but I had some fun times there. You know, I was forced to go through it because I told my parents, once, that I wanted to pursue acting, and they interpreted that as the leeway to send me to a camp where I learned only the first couple of lines to eleven of Mandela's… wow, he did a lot of speeches. […] Truth be told, I think they were excited in any semblance to see me finally express interest in something that isn't just body improvement or the listening to the same indie album over and over. When I was young, I thought I was gonna be a runner: I did half a decade of running and it all got me were wicked spider veins before my middle-aged years and incredibly strong nostrils. […] But for the miserable time I was at summer camp, I portrayed myself as an American mobster named something typical like Tony: I had a button-up with Hawaiian patterns and everything. I made sure to get everything I needed to be Tony Chemical (badass name, huh?): tinted shades, a comb that dispenses oil grease every time I use it, breath mints to cover the smell of alcohol, and arcade machines. Yeah, didn't all of those gangsters back in the day have arcade machines? That was the cool, illegal thing they all engaged in, right? They were like, sold on the black market for tons of bucks. […] But I'll tell you: the one thing I didn't have that left Tony's character incomplete was the tattoos — they were the key to sealing the pact and unleashing Tony Chemical onto this world as the criminal star she was born to be. […] I can see how it was a great distraction from the years of hard labor that I would inevitably be pushed into, but for the while, it was fun drinking all the red wine they explicitly told me not to drink, and then making the alcoholism part of Tony Chemical's character. She's called Chemical because of all the alcoholic chemicals in her body!

#Zodipunc #Zodiaccupuncture #Libra #Cancer #Virgo #Sagittarius