#delightful human disaster

[notbang]

what’s up sexy stuff?

#rebecca bunch #crazy ex girlfriend #cxgf #ceg #my art #she can GET her OWN UBER!! #hi I love rebecca nora bunch #precious human being #delightful human disaster #this post proudly brought to you by ✨covid✨

[soysaucevictim]

Just thinking about the fic where Gymrat!Remus finally gets pointed to investigate a PCOS dx.

And med nerd brain just making me thinking about how RAMPANT it was for people to get treated for all manner of illnesses with bloodletting. Mr. Washington was already having a bad time with a throat infection - let's give the dude hypovolemic shock while we're at it! Pretty miserable way to die. :,D

Nowadays bloodletting has EXTREMELY limited therapeutic applications - mostly to treat shit like having too much copper or iron in the blood. (Though chelation is often used for shit like this, better risk/benefit profile, lbr.)

#sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #dukexiety #romantic dukexiety #qpp intruanalogical #(virgil's an entire himbo disaster in this fic - alright) #(and remus is such a disaster human) #(EMT just asking the question to test remus's level of lucidity/orientedness/consciousness) #(he's heard it all man) #(anyways - i'll find any excuse to gush about the trash goblin alright. he is a /delight/.)

[theblackwomb]

I want at least a whole episode worth of warmly-lit flashbacks like we got in Episode 7, honestly.

Like, keep the foreshadowing and underlying dread by all means but I think the only thing that would possibly improve on the perfection that the show is already would be to show us just a bit more of the calm before the storm. 

Like, just show me a little more of them all being happy in the early days, of them being ordinary men cracking on and doing their jobs, of silly little day-to-day conversations. It’ll make me happy for one thing but it’ll also make that descent into terrified, scurvy-ridden, lead-addled madness and misery all the more poignant if we can see more clearly who they were before it happened. 

Like, make that descent as sharp as humanly possible then just stab me in the heart with it. 

#the terror #the terror amc #franklin expedition #i think it would change a lot of fandom characterisation too #I'm not saying I'm not delighted at the idea of wee Hodgson being a garrulous dumbass #or Little being an anxiety-ridden human disaster #but I think we all forget sometimes that that's not all they were #i mean like #Little is fourth or fifth in command of the whole expedition #and if you're paying attention it's clear to see that he's damn good at his job #that's what makes his uncertainty and his mistakes later on all the sadder #same with Hodgson #the man's not an idiot or a coward #he rallies the men and runs back toward danger to shoot Tunnbaq in the ass with a goddamn cannon #he's a good lieutenant damnit! #whoah I have some feelings about this #Edward Little #George Hodgson

[chimaerakitten]

One under-appreciated breed of fic writer are the ones who hyperfocus on logistics to the exclusion of all canon shortcuts, and thus usually strike upon an awesome way to flesh out the worldbuilding or characters.

Like, I’m not necessarily talking realism here since often it’s still pretty far from realistic, but more like, “someone has to be running spies in this fantasy kingdom, and we’ve seen the whole royal court, so which background character is it? How does that change these three major interactions?” Or “real life historical nobility did in fact have some things to do that were like jobs, how does this human disaster cope with running an estate?” Or “there’s no reason for a sci-fi robot detective to know how to whitewater kayak, where’d she learn?” Or “if this guy is serving the emperor directly he has to be way high up in the space empire servant hierarchy, why is he doing this menial task for someone else? What’s his motive? Does he perhaps have the secret space telepathy?”

Anyway I’m always DELIGHTED to find a fic or writer who asks these questions because the fics themselves are universally bangers.

#fic writing #the kitten rambles #fanfiction #idk I just love em #if you have any favorites in this genre send ‘em my way

[creacherkeeper]

is this old religion, are we calling it love?

{sweet movie, alisha dietzman / @gaphic / tiktok / @iamalivenow / on earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong / @manywinged / these violent delights, micah nemerever / the reader, bernhard schlink (trans. carol brown janeway) / hestitations outside the door, margaret atwood / a self-portrait in letters, anne sexton}

[ID: ten images of text together in a litstack

1: Confession: I will think of you forever

2: a post by gaphic: It’s only tragedy if you convince yourself, for even just a moment, that everything could be ok, despite knowing it won’t be. Tragedy lies in ‘so close, yet so far.’ It’s avoidable because it would only take a tiny alteration to prevent disaster, but human nature is in the way- not maliciously, not knowingly, despite trying so hard.

3: a tiktok comment and answer: Are they lovers? / Worse

4: a post by iamalivenow: gay sex won't fix this. it'll probably make this worse. that being said don't you want to see how much worse it can get?

5: Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.

6: tags from manywinged: #technically they know and understand each other better than anyone else alive #but they communicate that in the most fucked up insane unnecessarily complicated way and think thats normal

7: I don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you. / We've found each other, out of everyone else in the world. Does that hurt, too?

8: "I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do."

9: Should we go into it together / If I go into it with you I will never come out

10: of course the love is there. / still, / still, / still.

end ID]

#litstack #web weaving #quote compilation #i love giving these vague taglines and then in the tags being like yes this is about blorbo from my games #its Funnee. when they escape containment. 2 me. #lizzie/onion/brandi #lost township #yes this is about the messy dyke girlbestfriend situationship everyone please join hands and pray for them thank you #characters who are either gonna get fixed or get sooooo much worse (or a combo of the two!!) and only time and the dice will tell #faun are you happy now. make me the onion/lizzie playlist.

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Alucard x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

cw: vampires, blood, periods, smut – cunnilingus during a period, vaginal sex (doggy), creampie

Author’s Note: I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, thanks for all those who encouraged me by saying they'd read this hehe. Enjoy! Divider by @/ohmarigold!

It’s been a little less than a month since you waltzed into the desolate castle nearly ten miles from your hometown. You’ve heard the rumors about it through whispers on the streets and drunken confessions at the bar. It’s Dracula’s estate, the bearer of demons and disaster, though he has since perished. It’s been told that the deed was done at the hands of his own son, Adrian Tepes, better known as Alucard. Surely, you had to check this out for yourself to see if the legend stands true.

What you didn’t predict was falling for the allusive charm of the son of Dracula. That you’d be living here as a permanent resident and take the role as Alucard’s forever human plaything. And that you love it. You love him. In the span of a few short weeks, you’ve completely abandoned your mundane life to share your exciting future with this dhampir. It really is something out of legends.  

Tonight, you lie in bed with him, snuggled close to his body. His breath tickles you, his fangs barely grazing skin as he presses delicate kisses along your neck. You giggle, running your hand through his silky hair, tugging him back to kiss him on the mouth. “Adrian,” you whisper, sucking on his bottom lip.

His fingers are nimble on your thighs, inching their way closer and closer to your arousal until you grab at his wrist, stopping him. He looks at you, confused. “What is it, darling?” 

Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, turning your head the other direction to avoid his brilliant gaze on you. “I’m bleeding,” you answer meekly.

“Bleeding?” 

You nod, confirming it, still too shy to look him in the eyes. He contemplates for a few seconds, understanding what you’re trying to say to him. Then, he laughs softly, giving you a delicate smooch on the cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. You think that’s going to stop me?” He nuzzles your ear, voice low and sultry. “I’m even hungrier for it now.”

Your cheeks burn, simultaneously flustered and aroused as he quickly positions himself between your legs, his golden eyes burning into yours, full of lust and desire. He tugs at your undergarments, already a dark spot of crimson leaking through it. Without hesitation, he sticks his tongue out, lapping at it for a taste before puckering his lips to suck on the damp fabric. He hums, delighting in the taste of you, of your blood. The mere thought of it makes you dizzy but seeing him smirk at you with your ruined panties between his lips has you aching. “Touch me, Adrian,” you beg, voice trembling. 

He pulls your underwear down your legs, breath warm on your loins as he speaks. “Touch you how, sweetheart?” He knows exactly what you want, but he’s going to torment you just a bit for almost denying him this pleasure. “Like this?” He licks a stripe on your clit, causing you to squirm from the sudden contact. 

“Yes, Adrian, fuck!” you cry out, your shout echoing from the high ceilings of his bedroom.

“You want me to taste you, is that right?” he taunts, giving you another stroke of his tongue, this time slower and more deliberate.

You nod frantically, clutching the sheets beneath you. He smiles, kissing the plush of your thigh, relenting his cruel teasing. “Of course, my love. I’ll give you whatever it is that you want.” He slides down, his mouth at your wet cunt, glistening with fresh blood and arousal. He licks his lips, ready to indulge in this fine meal you’ve laid before him. 

His thumb rests on your throbbing clit, massaging deep circles into it while he laps at your slit, consuming every single drop of you. Soon, his lips are smeared rouge, his fangs stained red, his pristine skin blushing scarlet, completely enthralled in devouring you. He bucks his hips against the bed, desperate for friction on his hardening cock. A guttural moan emits from his throat as he fucks you into an orgasm with his tongue and fingers, eager to drink all of your juices up. 

“You taste divine,” he purrs. “May I keep going?”

And who are you to deny a vampire of their deepest desires? You give him a weak nod, spreading your legs wider, body already quivering from ecstasy. He pleasures you into three more orgasms until your brain is mush and your limbs are limp against the sheets. Finally, he finishes inside you, taking you from behind, fucking his seed deep into your womb. He watches with a wanton gaze as he pulls out, cock dripping with your combined mess. 

Alucard really is a legend, and you’re more than happy to have found that out for yourself. 

#alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #alucard smut #alucard x you #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes x you #adrian tepes smut #castlevania netflix #castlevania smut #cw periods #tw periods

[inbarfink]

The ‘Escapades‘ in TGAA1 are already such a top-tier idea. I mean, I really wish we could’ve had those in any of the other games somehow.... Overall they’re an incredibly delightful addition to the game, and taking them individually, the least good ones are still like ‘well, that was a fun little vignette for these characters, I’m just not sure if it 100% gels with the main events of the game’.

And I think my favorite one right now has to be the first one, ‘In the Defendant Antechamber’. It just does… so much great stuff to the Asoryuu dynamic, recontextualizes everything that comes after in a way that makes it even better and just feels like such an Essential Viewing for really understanding these two. 

It’s just… you can go through the entire game with Ryunosuke constantly calling Kazuma his ‘best friend’, the ‘person I trusts more than anyone else’ and you might just casually assume that these two go a long way back. Maybe not as much as Kazuma and Susato since Ryunosuke doesn’t have all the details about his childhood, but seeing how much they mean for each other, they must’ve known each other for a while, right?

NOPE

THEY MET IN COLLEGE

ABOUT A YEAR AGO

They’ve known each other for a year, just a pretty ordinary year of school, and they’re already got that Unbreakable Homoerotic Bond of Trust, and Ryunosuke is fully willing to lay down his life for the sake of Kazuma’s dream of going to London. And Kazuma is fully willing to abandon his literal Life Mission of clearing his dead father’s name and avenging him in the shame of failing to defend Ryunosuke. And he drags Ryunosuke with him to London because he knows that he’s the only one who can keep him from straying from his path. And then Ryunosuke decides to dedicate his entire life in the memory of Kazuma. His college buddy. 

But they’re not just college buddies. Because in that one year, they did forge such powerful emotional bonds that all of these actions make sense for them. Because they’re just that kind of Ridiculous Human Beings and I LOVE IT!!

And the story of how they met is just… perfection. Like, if you look at the pre-‘death’ Asoryuu dynamic, it’s very ‘Japan’s most amazing promising young lawyer-samurai is absolutely enamored with an Anxiety-Ridden Human Disaster’. Kazuma Asogi is the Proudest Moronsexual and Ryunosuke Naruhodo is dating way beyond his league.

But also….the thing that drew Kazuma to Ryunosuke in the first place is the fact that he bested him at something. Kazuma is this rising star at Yumei University, he’s got the brains and the brawn, it seems like he is poised for success and glory for the rest of his days - and then this anxious innocuous little goofball beats him… humiliates him even. Ryunosuke beat the star student of Yumei University without any ambition or ill-intention, he was just being himself, he is just this silly little linguistic dork who likes tongue-twisters. 

And Kazuma feels no real resentment or spite about this defeat. He was beaten at his own game by such a silly little guy and all he feels is respect and affection and appreciation. A desire for friendship. Maybe even love. 

And meanwhile, Ryunosuke has just kinda forgotten that this is how they met. I mean, it's not like he totally forgotten it, but... it doesn't seem to register as particularly Notable in his own memories. It's just not that important to him. That was probably a life-changing unforgettable event for Kazuma, but when Ryunosuke thinks about their friendship he just thinks about hanging out after class and eating Yakisoba together. Because that’s just the kinda guy Ryunosuke is, and I think Kazuma appreciates that just as much as his tongue-twister skills.

Also, it kinda connects to an idea I brought up in a previous post, that Kazuma Asogi is less of a direct counterpart to Miles Edgeworth and more of a… mirror image, an inversion.

Phoenix and Miles’ friendship started with Miles saving Phoenix…

A moment which was a world-changing story for Phoenix that literally defined his entire life, but Miles, although he always kept his memories of Phoenix close to his heart, can barely remember it. 

Ryunosuke and Kazuma’s friendship started with Ryunosuke beating Kazuma. A moment that is… certainly not the most important thing in Kazuma’s life, but one that has certainly made his mark on him, and one that he is not going to forget. But Ryunosuke just... doesn't really think about it unless it's directly brought up.

And it’s just… such a good piece of characterization for both of them on every thematic level, I just love it so much!!

#the great ace attorney #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asogi #asoryuu #great ace attorney #tgaa #tgaac #ryuunosuke naruhodou #dai gyakuten saiban #dai gyatuken saiban #dgs #tgaa chronicles #gaac #naruhodou ryuunosuke #asogi kazuma #kazuma asougi #ace attorney #aa #pwaa #phoenix wright #pheonix wright #phoenix wright ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #aa posting #ace attorney posting #aa meta #ace attorney meta

[extraaa-30]

Why soft dom Aziraphale + bratty sub Crowley appeals to me

(be serious though they're both switches)*

Soft Dom Aziraphale

1. heaven

An angel is supposed to be the pure one, undefiled, meek, following orders without question, the girl to be got, the prize to be sought after, the white to be soiled. Subvert it! Aziraphale shouldn't be confined to an eternity of zero agency, naivety, and bland pastels. The idea of Aziraphale getting to really own his "bastard" side, getting to be "selfish," be demanding, be in control--delightful.

And, Aziraphale has guilt complexes on his guilt complexes. Because, unlike most of humanity, he is intimately aware of the righteous, pitiless violence that heaven is capable of. And he's made an art of subtly and ceaselessly defying it by being gentle, by demonstrating enormous restraint. He is a warrior who gave away his holy sword. He swerves severely in the direction of being reserved, harmless, feels clear guilt about any strong desires or direct asks. He has an obvious anxiety about excess (the mental acrobatics he does to justify his book collection, for example, are an entire circus). Free him from the fear of going too far!

2. the effeminate gay man

Thee Southern Pansy, "gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide," with the fancy clothes and prim and proper aesthetic, ever the damsel in distress, flamboyant and limp-wristed, the one who is called slurs by children, the one who is sunshine and sweetness, "the nice one."

Except we know he is secretly a bastard! We know this bitch has preferences! Let him own that! The fact that he is effeminate should not automatically make him more submissive I literally hate that. On the inside Aziraphale is cunty and commanding and he should get to be!

3. with Crowley

Let him say what he craves directly so help me god! No double-speak, no games, no lustfully looking but then looking away immediately. Let him consume. Let him indulge in the gluttony he endlessly flirts with yet denies himself out of guilt and fear. The idea of Aziraphale as a gentle dom just seems so healing, like a puzzle piece that finally gets to click into place without shame.

-------------

Bratty Sub Crowley

1. hell

A demon is supposed to be the impure one, the defiler, the temptress, the seducer, the villain who takes, the black that soils. Subvert it! Crowley shouldn't be confined to the tropes of his demonic nature. He does not just take, just ruin. He is not inherently the one with experience while Aziraphale is the naive, pure little virgin. The idea of him being submissive to an angel (well...to this angel) is a delicious way to challenge that narrative.

And oh my god my girl has trust issues. As a demon his mentality is severely no allies, watch your back, the one who was cast out, rejected for a first offense, shaky ground, always in danger. He's not supposed to trust others, and he has legit biblically valid reasons to be wary and paranoid. Free him from the fear of trusting someone else to take control!

2. Mr. Cool

Mr. Bond, suave, smooth, stoic, sharp angles, stylish and slick, so very dangerous and criminal, the one with the car, the rebel, the snake. Compared with Aziraphale, he's supposed to be Mr. Hardass, "not nice."

Except we know he is secretly a disaster twink, 110% a soft sad little loser under that facade (and not buried that deep either)! He is a romantic who, in spite of hell, wants to give his angel chocolates! Let him own that!

3. with Aziraphale

Let him be unequivocally, unambiguously wanted oh my god! No guessing games! No trying to decipher what the fuck Aziraphale is really saying to him! Free him from the fear of always being "too fast" or "too late." All this bitch wants is for Aziraphale to be pleased by him, by Anthony J-acts-of-service Crowley! The idea of finally allowing him that...another puzzle piece. So satisfying and healing and safe.

-------------

*They're switches your honor

1. "our side"

Not heaven, not hell. Not angels or demons. Not all black or all white. If you think they don't switch, you're wrong.

2. weight & gender

Aziraphale is bigger and keeps his hair short and has a steadiness to him and all those things are perceived as more masculine by some and therefore stronger and more dominant. Fuck that! His size also is too often viewed as something unattractive, which--extremely fuck that. My boy is a treat and a catch. He should get to feel pretty and soft in a totally uncomplicated way as often as he goddamn wants.

Crowley is skinny, often has longer hair, has an absolute treasure hoard of gender, and there's a flightiness to him that's perceived as more feminine by some and therefore weaker and more submissive. Again I say fuck that! His slimness likewise is too often viewed as more desirable, more malleable and able to be cowed; to which I say: die! He is no dainty flower. He actually can often be commanding and capable. Take him seriously.

Furthermore: Aside from the obvious fact that weight, gender, and d/s all have jack shit to do with each other, subverting these tropes remains as important as subverting the other ones. Aziraphale should get to feel delicate and wanted just as much as Crowley. And Crowley should get to feel powerful and in control just as much as Aziraphale. To deny either of them those experiences...bad! Shut up!

3. Crowley & Aziraphale

Their dynamic is already basically gentle dom Aziraphale & bratty sub Crowley. Like literally inches below the surface lmao it's not that hard to spot (see: Az pouts about paint on his jacket, Crowley instantly rushes to fix it but in a cunty way; Crowley pins Az to a wall and Az isn't even slightly intimidated or out of control).

The problem is, they're not talking (see: Az can't ask directly; Crowley has to act tough). Which is why I personally feel that a more honest d/s dynamic, with all that unspoken ritual out in the open, would be an enormous relief for them.

That said, it's not fair to confine them to that familiar dynamic! Crowley isn't a sad wet rat all the time-- let him plan things and have them work out for once. Let him be (on purpose lol) successfully seductive! Likewise Aziraphale deserves to let his fucking hair down. Let my girl not have to do everything in this goddamn house! He deserves to not have to be the one in control all the time. He has trust issues just as deep as Crowley's, and equally deserves to feel safe and wanted.

Also Aziraphale is too much of a hedonist to not want to try everything. If you think he's sticking with one dynamic you are a fool. A clown. As my French-speaking 6,000 year old middle aged babygirl would say: an imbécile.

-------------

I wrote this for me, but if you read this far I hope you enjoyed it lol peace & love on planet earth

#go #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #crowley #good omens meta #extraaa

[spontaneousglitterbees]

[TAPP AU Masterpost]

Errant pieces of code on an old hard-drive are kinda the closest thing an AI entity has to baby pictures, right? How embarrassing...

Finally I get around to explaining some of K1B0's deal in this AU!

Alter Ego had some influence in digital space and showed K1B0 some of their (and by extension Chihiro's) favorite things about quasi/living, which in more literal terms sped up the development of his AI into something trained to have greater complexity and pattern recognition on a level closer to AE's own. They were delighted to finally have a friend in their same state of existence, someone they could relate to on a fundamental level the same way their human friends can relate to one another, a true companion in cyberspace.

Then, of course, Team Danganronpa started scraping for "the Ultimate Programmer's AI" to put in their killing simulation to fill out the roster and act as their eyes and ears into the program. They certainly did grab An AI, and one that needed heavy "repairs" in the transferring process. Plus some... creative liberties, about his powers and backstory (but he was always going to look like a nerd).

That still doesn't explain how K1B0 became Kiibo, though. Somehow, through the chaos, Kiibo developed what can only really be called a Soul; the imprint of which is still on one of the drives from the TAPP disaster. He might not be exactly the same, but it's the best chance they've got to bring their friend back among the living.

He does belong among the living now, doesn't he? What with all the friends he's made and experiences he's had, he's a full-fledged Human now, right?

And Human means you belong in the physical world. Most of the gang would agree.

One among them, however, just misses how things used to be....

#danganronpa #kiibo idabashi #dr #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #ndrv3 spoilers #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #killing harmony #TAPP AU #Talent Acquisition Pilot Program AU #dr post-game au #ndrv3 vr au #drv3 k1b0 #drv3 kiibo #alter ego #chihiro fujisaki #miu iruma #kokichi ouma

[notbang]

even if it was a dumb idea...

#crazy ex girlfriend #cxg #cxgf #rebecca bunch #my art #hi I love rebecca nora bunch #precious human being #delightful human disaster #someone else is singing her song!!

[goosewriting]

Dinner Disaster

summary: after some flirting, reth finally asks reader out for dinner, but it doesn’t go as planned (follows the dinner disaster quest)

relationship: Reth x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Reth’s backstory and interactions, smooching

word count: 5.1k 

A/N: literally no one asked for this but this game is consuming my very being to a molecular level, and this man is a big reason i’m obsessed. btw if any of you play palia or are interested in playing, hmu and we can add each other lol this is set some time after the flirting starts, after reader gets involved in his uh, side business. this is more or less how the quest played out in my head so, yeah, enjoy~

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Since you developed a real green thumb, to the delight and pride of Badruu, you have some extra apples from your tree that you don’t know what to do with. So, as with most of your garden surplus, you decide to bring them to Reth, who will surely find a good use for the produce.

You spot the freckled Majiri behind the bar when you enter the Inn, thinking that he’d probably make an apple pie with the fruit, and that you’d surely get a slice. Your mouth waters at the thought. You wonder when the cook will teach you the recipe; maybe you should ask him. 

Reth’s working the register, finishing some transaction with another human customer, when you place the wooden crate of apples on the bar, and proceed to take a seat on the stool you usually occupy when you visit him at the Inn. Reth gives the apples a curious glance, and talks to you over his shoulder as he hands the customer some change.

“Thanks, babe,” he says without thinking, and you both freeze at his words, as does the human who just paid for a recipe. They shoot you a quick look with raised brows, then silently turn on their heels and walk out of the Inn. Reth slowly turns to you. 

“Sorry, that kinda slipped out,” he says sheepishly, unable to meet your eyes. “Are we at the babe status yet?”

To be honest, if he had asked you first, you probably would have said no. It’s not your favourite pet name, and he could surely come up with something better. He often calls you sweet tooth, which you’ve actually come to like a lot. But hearing him call you ‘babe’ so matter-of-factly out of nowhere… You’re surprised to realise that you actually like how it sounded, how it sounds coming from him.

“I mean… If you want to be,” you answer after a moment, deciding to tease him a little. “Sure thing, babe.”

Except that it backfires and it ends with both of your faces burning up, which he tries to play off by clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, I’ll still have to get used to it, too,” you chuckle, bringing a hand to your face in an attempt to cover up how flustered you got. “But I like it when you say it.”

“Noted,” he replies, then looks around the Inn to see if someone else will approach the register. As there’s no one else, he fully faces you, leaning slightly over the bar. “Say, what are you up to today?”

“Oh you know, the usual,” you reply, starting to count on your fingers. “Hunting, fishing, foraging. Then tending to the vegetable garden. I also need to craft a new chair. Why?”

“A-are you busy later tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your elbow and give him a lopsided smile. 

“I’m never too busy for you,” you offer, and he smiles amusedly at your answer. “You have anything in mind?”

“I was thinking we could have dinner. At your place, maybe?” he asks. “I’ll take care of the food and everything. You just have to show up.”

Up until now, no one has actually visited your house. Sure, you upgraded from your first precarious tent to a proper building, and the Majiri came by every so often to say hi or bring you something, but no one has actually gone into your house. And for some reason the thought of Reth not only being at your place but also being the first one to do so, it makes you a bit nervous… but in a good way.

You realise that he’s still looking at you waiting for an answer, fidgeting with a loose nail on the wooden crate still on the bar. 

“I’d love that, actually,” you reply.

“Great!” He looks actually relieved. As if I would have said no to you asking me out, you think, smiling to yourself. He’s so innocent sometimes. Reth takes the crate and shoves it under the bar somewhere. 

“Then let’s say around 6pm?” he proposes.

“Sounds good,” you agree with a nod. 

Ashura enters the Inn, giving you a warm smile and a wave from afar as he spots you. Given that it’s his boss and you shouldn’t be distracting Reth from work, you take it as your cue to leave.

“See you later then,” you say in a low voice so Ashura can’t hear you.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Reth gives you his usual goodbye. He winks at you and you merely roll your eyes as you turn to exit the place. And just in time, so he can’t see your flustered face. You can’t remember when exactly the winking started, but it never fails to make you weak in the knees.

Once down at the plaza, you refocus on your tasks for the day, mentally making a list of the things to buy, resources to mine and places to go. Then you head for your first stop with a spring in your step. Tonight can’t come quickly enough.

— — —

You come home with a backpack full to the brim of crabs, plants, stones and other goodies. As you set down your things on the grass with a grunt from the weight, you see your palcat coming out of the house to greet you.

“Hey there,” you say, crouching down to scratch her head. She purrs and meows happily. You recently got this companion, and it’s been nice having someone at home to come back to. She often accompanies you when you go out as well, but this morning she was feeling especially lazy and cosy so she stayed in bed. You walk to your storage crate, starting to put everything away, and your cat looks at you with a light tilt to the head as you tell her about your day.

“Oh and actually,” you finish your retelling with the big news. “We’re having a visitor today.”

“Mreow?”

“Yeah, him… So you have to be on your best behaviour, you hear me?” you tell your cat with an accusing finger pointing at her. “We have to make a good impression. If you’re good, you can have lots of treats later, okay?”

She meows again, and you like to think she just agreed; bribes with food always work, after all.

There’s still some time until six, so you tend to your garden, clean yourself and change into a new set of clothes, the nicer one. It’s the only one you own, and it was a gift from Jel. In fact, all the clothing you have was given to you by him in some way or another. You make a mental note to prepare a gift for him for helping you out so much.

Next to your house there’s a nice spot among the trees, near the pond, where you can hear the trickling of water. You grab a big blanket and a lantern, and set everything up for a picnic corner. Even if whatever Reth brought was more of a “plates and cutlery at the table” kind of meal, you could still come out here after and look at the stars a bit. Then, maybe you’ll find the courage to make a proper move on him… You imagine the both of you sitting on the blanket, illuminated only by the warm glow of a candle and the gentle moonlight, you take his hand, he leans in, and… 

You mentally slap yourself to get rid of those thoughts, cheeks ablaze. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you reprimand yourself. He may be a bit of a flirt at times, but Reth doesn’t strike you as the type of person to take such feelings lightly. So you have to make sure that he even is into you in the first place. Like actually into you. Suddenly your whole mental scenario shifts, and as you take his hand, he pulls away, disgusted. But wait. Dinner was his idea. He even called you ‘babe’. Surely he must have some interest, right? You’re not just… a side piece? 

Before you can spiral down further, you hear your name being called, although it’s not the voice you were expecting; this one is higher and has a slight lisp. You turn around to find Auni by the gate to your yard. You jog up to where he stands, smiling curiously. Sure, he delivers the mail twice a day, but usually you just find the letters in your mailbox as if they magically appeared; you never saw him actually deliver anything. You wonder if he has a new cool bug to show you.

“Hey Auni!” you greet the boy as you approach him. 

“Hi, I have a delivery for you,” he announces, holding out something for you to take.

“Oh, what is it?”

“Reth paid me in cakes to have this brought to you asap, said it was really important.”

“Oh?” 

You take the letter from him with a thanks, and he says his goodbyes. Why would Reth send a letter when he’s supposed to show up himself? Maybe it’s a treasure hunt kinda thing? 

You open the folded piece of paper, which isn’t even in an envelope, recognising Reth’s handwriting, but it’s even messier and more hurried than usual. The curious smile on your face disappears, your brows furrowing as you read.

Hey, I feel like a HUGE jerk for doing this, but I have to cancel our plans tonight. Something came up that I can’t ignore. Next time we see each other I promise I’ll explain.

- Reth

It feels like your whole body suddenly runs cold, and your hands drop to your sides, your eyes looking ahead at nothing in particular.

Your cat, who had poked her head out the door when she heard Auni, seems to sense the shift in you and approaches, meowing softly, as if asking if everything is okay. You look down at her, and give a light shrug.

“Looks like we won’t have visits after all…” you explain, reading over the letter one more time, then letting out a deep sigh. “Let’s get you something to eat, c’mon.”

She seems to know those words, as she immediately stands up and circles around your legs. Following you inside, she waits for you to get the bowl ready, and once you set it on the ground, she happily digs in.

“Well, at least one of us got a nice dinner.”

You stroke once from her head to her long bushy tail, to which she comically lifts her behind, then you decide to turn in for the night and head to bed, not really feeling hungry despite the eventful day.

— — —

The next morning you wake up to the sunlight shining through your window and fully hitting your face; you forgot to close the blinds the night before. With a squint, you look down at the weight you feel on yourself and find your cat curled up on your lap, which gets a sleepy half smile out of you. 

Picking her up in your arms, you go to close one of the blinds, then make your bed and head to the kitchen for breakfast. You start your routine like normal, having breakfast, taking care of the garden, going through your inventory to check what you need and what you can sell. You take your time, though, not really wanting to head into the village just yet. 

By the time you’re ready to go, it’s almost noon. Usually you’d be at the inn in the morning to say hi to Reth and chat a bit before starting your day. And while you really don’t feel like talking to him after leaving you hanging yesterday, you also know that he’s probably beating himself up about it, even more so if you haven’t been seen all morning. So after heaving a deep sigh, in hopes of letting all anger and frustration exit your body, you walk through the gate down into the village. To your surprise and delight, your cat follows this time.

You make your way towards the central plaza, exchanging greetings with those who walk by you, stopping to have a short chat with Chayne, whom you probably don’t talk to enough. You make a mental note to remedy that.

Somewhere in your mind though, you know you’re just stalling; you should just get it over with. Reth probably has a good explanation. Besides, you don’t want to be mad at him or give him the silent treatment or anything. You miss him, and you do want to see him. You’re just… disappointed. 

Taking one last deep breath as you stand before the Inn, you look down at your palcat and give her a nod. She meows encouragingly. You walk in through the open door, relieved to find it mostly empty. There’s very few people sitting at the tables in the corner, and Ashura isn’t at the reception desk. 

Your eyes find Reth’s behind the bar, and he freezes for a moment. You approach him like you normally would, about to take a seat on your usual stool.

“Wait,” he says before you’re able to fully sit down. You merely shoot him a questioning look. He lowers his voice, shooting a quick glance at the people eating at the tables. “Let’s talk in the back.” 

Reth scribbles something on a piece of paper and places it next to the till, indicating for you to follow him with a nod of his head. You pat the seat you meant to take while commanding your cat to hop onto it, and she does, so you tell her to stay there and wait. Then as you walk to where he said, you take a quick look at the paper; it reads “back in 5”.

You follow Reth into the back room, and you both come to stand in the farthest corner; since there are two archways but only one has a door, this will have to do to stay away from prying ears and curious eyes. You both talk in hushed voices.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says with a sigh, scratching his neck. He drags his eyes up to meet yours, scared of what he might find.  “Please don’t be mad. Are you mad? You can be a little mad. I’m such a jerk–”

“Hey, no need don’t say that,” you interrupt him, and you just look at each other in silence for a second. “I mean, I’m upset, but not in a ‘mad at you’ way. More in a… ‘I was really looking forward to it and was bummed that you had to cancel at the last minute’ way.

“I was really looking forward to it too, it’s just…” Reth runs his hand over his face with a groan. “Yesterday was kind of a mess.”

“What happened?”

“Ashura caught me sneaking into the back rooms after hours. I panicked, so I lied and said I was actually planning a party for him, as a thank you. He liked that idea, so he got off my back, but now I actually have to throw him a dinner party with other people.”

You look to the side, unable to stop the scoff that escapes you. But it isn’t a mocking or offended scoff, it’s more of an amused sharp exhale. 

For a moment, you think back to how you kind of ended up roped into his side hustle of smuggling illicit goods (especially Flow and ancient artifacts, which are very illegal), which is why he was sneaking around in the first place. You’ve been covering for him with Ashura and many others for a while now, and while at first it was more of a personal favour, now you're in too deep. Not that you mind, though. If you’re being honest with yourself, it adds a bit of an exhilarating factor to everyday life. You’re not entirely sure yet about the actual power and meaning of Flow in this society, but it seems to be connected to humans in some way, so you’re at least a little bit interested in it. If you have to investigate and interact with it in secret, then so be it; you also want answers as to what happened to humanity and how you landed here. Besides, it’s one more thing you two can bond over. Literally partners in crime. The thought makes you smile to yourself.

“You’re kind of bad at this whole criminal thing, you know?” you tell him with a playful grin. “Getting strangers involved, almost being caught by your boss.”

He doesn’t seem too amused. 

“I know, I’m…” his demeanour shifts from annoyed at and with himself to almost shy, and he looks down as he bites the inside of his cheek. “I guess I’ve been distracted lately, is all.”

You hum in response, somewhat intrigued. When his gaze comes back up to meet yours though, eyes filled with yearning, the look he gives you makes your heart skip a beat, and suddenly you’re all too aware of how close you’re standing to each other. You need to wrap this up.

“So is there anything I can do to help you out?” you ask him.

“What? No, you really don’t need to. You’ve already saved my hide so many times,” he’s quick to dismiss your question. “Besides, cooking is one of the few things I’m actually good at, so I got that covered.”

Suddenly he looks like he just thought of something that you could in fact help out with, but he doesn’t want to say. You give his upper arm a soft push with your fist.

“C’mon, out with it,” you encourage him with a playful smile. 

“Well…” His eyes linger for a second where you touched him. “I need to prepare everything, so I can’t be out and about actually inviting everyone to the dinner party.”

He takes out a paper from his pocket and hands it to you. You skim over it, seeing a list of names.

“If you could invite everyone and let me know how many guests will come, I can make sure to cook the right amout.”

“Got it,” you reply with a nod. “I’ll ask around and probably send Auni back to let you know. He told me you’re paying him in cakes for special deliveries. Think you can sneak another baking session in today on top of dinner? On my tab.”

“Sure thing,” he chuckles, then gets serious again. “And hey, I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Reth, it’s okay, really,” you say, and he’s so close and he looks so sad, you want to hold his face so badly. In fact, your hand is already going up, but you pull back midway, fidgeting with the collar of your shirt instead. “Just… be more careful next time, okay?”

“Yeah…” he sighs. “And thank you, for the invites. I owe you. Again.” 

“Yes, you do,” you chuckle. “Maybe I should start charging you with interest.”

He starts patting down his pockets. 

“I don’t have any cash on me at the moment,” he says with a smile, playing along. 

Your answer comes quicker than you can anticipate and you’re unable to stop your words. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of kisses maybe…”

Both of you look at each other a bit shocked.

“Oh. O-oh,” is all he stammers.

Whatever confidence came over you for you to say that, immediately dissipates as Reth turns several shades of pink darker. The tips of his ears look like they might actually catch fire any moment.

“But we can talk about payment later,” you’re quick to add, and clear your throat. “I’ll uhm, get your invites out. You better start on that food.”

“Right. Yes,” he says stiffly, and you both put some space between each other. “Thanks again. And sorry too. And–”

“Reth,” you cut him short again, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. See you later.”

“B-bye.” 

You exit the backroom, calling for your cat, who walks around the bar to find you, and you make a hasty exit through the back, walking down the stairs to your left. As you pass the river, you consider for a moment jumping into the water to cool down. Maybe that would get your heart to slow down again. You fist your shirt over your chest where you can feel the pounding against your ribs. 

An inquisitive meow from the side gets your attention back, and you look down at your companion, who’s looking up at you confusedly.

“Right. We have a job to do,” you say and go to take out the paper with the list from your pocket, except that it’s been in your hand the whole time, and it’s now crumpled and slightly damp because of how clammy your hands were. You cringe a bit at that, commanding yourself to calm down at once. Geez, get a grip on yourself, you think.

It takes a while to track Auni down after everyone else, given that he’s always out on his mail route or out and about exploring, probably trying to catch some bugs. When you finally find him, you give him the list of people who plan to atttend Ashura’s dinner, and send him to Reth to deliver the news with the promise of getting his sticky hands on more cake. This seems to do the trick, and he happily jogs off with the new list stuffed into a side pocket of his gigantic backpack. You look after him as his figure gets smaller and smaller, wondering how he’s even able to carry all that. His equipment is bigger than himself. 

With a shake of your head, you bring your attention back to your own equipment, and get your bow and arrows ready. Today you’re hunting chapaas; Hassian asked for some meat and fur earlier this week and you haven’t been able to deliver yet. 

— — — 

You get back home relatively late, and when you do, the flag on your mailbox is up. Setting down your haul next to it, you get out several letters, looking for a message from Reth. And lo and behold, there’s one from him, this time properly written and folded into an envelope. 

He says that in the end everything worked out, to which you sigh in relief. Ashura doesn’t suspect a thing apparently, and everyone had a great time. He tells you to meet him at your “private spot” tonight, he has something to give you. 

You look at the time, then down at yourself; you’re looking pretty shabby after hunting for hours on end, kneeling down in mud and such. So you quickly change into clean clothes, wash your face and prepare food for your loyal cat. As she happily munches away, you grab your jacket and leave again. Nights can get pretty chilly here, you’ve learned. 

It doesn’t take long for you to make your way to the inn, given that you’re essentially bee lining for it. Checking that no one’s following you or sees you enter the inn from the back, you quickly take a left and go down the stairs towards the storage room. Reth gave you the key to it, so you unlock the door and enter, quickly closing it behind you. 

When you turn around, you’re met with the cook on the other side of the room, stopping whatever he was doing on the table, and he stands up to come and meet you.

“Hey sweet tooth, thanks for coming,” he greets you. 

“Hey,” you smile up to him but he looks tense. “Is everything okay? I thought you said the dinner party worked out? “

“No, it did. It’s- It’s not that,” he curses under his breath at himself. 

“What is it then?”

Reth sighs, and you can tell he’s trying to find the right words. So you give him a moment to gather his thoughts, waiting patiently.

“You know… I’m not used to asking for help,” he starts explaining. “Even as a kid, I wouldn't, and I didn't expect others to help, either. It was always just me and Tish against the world. And now there’s you.”

His cheeks flush ever so slightly, and you can start to feel yours mirroring his.

“Here you come, busting into my life,” he says with a soft smile, but it quickly vanishes. “And even though I keep messing up… somehow you’re still here. You’re not sick of me yet.”

You want to interject, as that “yet” doesn’t sit well with you, but he doesn’t let you.

“And more than that, you've put yourself on the line for me, more than once. I honestly don't understand why you keep putting up with me but… I really do appreciate everything you've done and how much you've helped me out, and Tish as well. But the cartel… I- I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. And I don’t want to scare you off either.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Whatever is going on between us, I don’t want to lose this. So let me make it up to you.”

He steps aside to show you what’s on the table: a container with your favourite food. 

“And I know this is barely enough for everything–”

“Reth, please stop,” you interrupt him before he can spiral further, your voice soft. “I’ll take the food, thank you. It looks delicious. But you really don’t have to try to make up for any of the, uh, side business stuff. Sure, the dinner didn’t work out, but if you say we just have dinner another day, then that is enough for me.”

You step a little closer, your hand tentatively reaching out for his.

“And you don’t have to worry about scaring me off.” Your voice is nothing more than a whisper now. “I also don’t want to lose what we have. I’m not going anywhere.”

Reth looks down at your hands as he shyly intertwines his fingers with yours, and when his eyes come back up to meet yours, they’re full of something… new. His gaze flickers down to your lips for a second and back up, and you wonder if he can hear your erratic heartbeat. You’re standing so close to each other right now, it wouldn’t take a lot to close the gap.

“That said, though, about that payment I mentioned…” you trail off.

His jaw clenches, and he looks to the side, pulling back away from you ever so slightly.

“Are you sure about this?” he questions rather bitterly. “About me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask. He sighs, eyes cast down at the floor.

“People will talk. They probably already are. With my reputation and all… I strayed from my Path. Most days I’m convinced people don’t even like my soup. I’m nothing more than a scoundrel.”

Your free hand comes up to gingerly hold his chin and turn his face to make him look at you.

“First of all, I don’t care what people say,” you start refuting his arguments. “Maybe I still don’t understand Majiri tradition, but I think you should be free to choose your own path with no expectations, and change it if you find it doesn’t suit you. And I like your soup. Also, I think being a scoundrel is part of your charm. Is that a bad thing?”

He doesn’t reply immediately, and when he does, his voice is so small you almost miss it. 

“You’re too good for me.”

You pull back slightly to fully look at him, and it breaks your heart a little how earnestly he means that. So you let go of his hand and hug his torso instead, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“I don’t know what happened that makes you think that, but I will try my best to show you how wrong you are. You deserve good things, Reth. Whatever it is you want, you’re allowed to pursue it.”

He hugs you back, tightly, so you place a kiss to the only place you can reach, which is his jawline just below his ear. You feel him tremble, but if it’s from relief, anticipation or something else, you can’t tell.

“Right now what I want is you,” he says after a moment. 

“Then what are you waiting for.”

Reth lets go only enough for you to come back face to face with him, and he doesn’t waste a second to capture your lips with his. At first it’s shy, new, a sequence of soft pecks, testing the waters. When your hands travel up his chest to cup his face, he relaxes a bit more, kissing you more confidently. His hands slip underneath your open jacket, holding onto your waist and pulling you to him. 

His kisses grow more intense, hungrier, and his tongue finds its way to yours. You can’t help the low moan that escapes you when he presses you further into him, and he practically swallows it. 

As he takes a step forward, you take one backwards, then another and another, until your back hits the door, and you’re being squished between the rough wooden surface and Reth’s body trying to get impossibly close to yours. The impact makes you grunt, and he responds with something between a sigh and a growl, moving away from your lips to attack your neck. You welcome the break to take a breather, panting, and you remember something.

“Wait,” you say between breaths, and immediately Reth stops his soft bites and licks on your throat, also out of breath, and worry starts spreading on his face.

“W-what? Is this okay? I–”

Your hand on his face gently covers his mouth to stop him from talking, while with the other you turn the key below the doorknob to lock the door, which you had forgotten to do when you arrived.

“Just don’t want to risk getting interrupted, is all.”

You take a moment to admire his slightly dishevelled form: the bandana is a bit askew, his pupils are blown out, his cheeks and ears a deep pink. You probably don’t look much different, to be honest. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to give him permission to continue. 

“Let’s move away from the door, maybe–” you start, and within an instant, strong arms are picking you up under your thighs, carrying you over to the other side of the room and setting you down on the table. 

“Better?” he asks, placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Better,” you reply with a smile.

“You said you’re charging me with lots of interest,” he mumbles into your skin as he starts again where he left off earlier. You can only hum in response. “And I plan on paying back what I owe.” 

You pull back a little to look at him, and the newfound confidence and assertiveness in his eyes and voice send a pleasant tingle down your spine. 

“I’m very much looking forward to it.”

— — —

A/N 2: what? goose being attacked by brainrot over a freckled red-head who seems confident on the outside but is actually riddled with insecurities and does some illegal stuff to keep his family safe? huh, bet no one saw that one coming 🙄 guess i have ONE TYPE, smh.

A/N 3: if this is something you'd like to see more of, feel free to let me know and i'll add palia to my taglist fandoms for you to sign up :D

#goose feathers #palia x reader #palia reth x reader #reth x reader #i don't even have a masterlist ready for this one #i have to make a new header lol #and yes i am planning on making this a series because i am delulu and 3 parters is my sweet spot apparently

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Prompt wise, how about 10 with the brothers. Like how would they react to an MC that won’t stop stealing there clothes?

I ended up turning these into little scenarios instead of just hcs, hope you don't mind :)

As I'm sure you all know by now, I'll happily add more parts if requested, but I wanted to get this out

Happy reading :D

Lucifer

'Beg pardon, my love, but why are you wearing my shirt?'

He'd caught MC, yet again, on their way about the house, having managed to style themselves into one of his button-ups. Said button up was the latest victim of the human's thievery.

The human beamed "innocently" with hands clasped sweetly, the fabric sitting comfortably against their skin. He doesn't mind that they wear his clothes anymore, the inconvenience of missing a few shirts is worth the boost to his pride whenever his human parades around in his things.

Still, he feels the need to loom over them, catching their chin between his fingers, running his gloved thumb over the fullness of their lower lip.

He revelled in the way their eyes fluttered to his lips, the spark of want that came to life in their eyes had his mind wandering...elsewhere.

'Stop stealing my clothes, my little trouble maker.'

MC nipped playfully at his thumb, letting him feel the warmth of their breath through his glove. 'No. They smell like you! Besides, you love watching me march around in your things, you possessive menace.'

Lucifer chuckled, stealing a kiss from those eager lips. 'You're lucky I love you.'

Mammon

'Yo! Human, the heck d'ya think ye're doin'?!'

MC spun to find him bright red, sputtering, but with eyes trapped entirely on their form, clad in his favourite jacket.

His tongue felt like led, unable to form words, no matter how many times MC does this, he can't help but short circuit every time they do.

He's the Avatar of Greed, he does not usually tolerate being stolen from, but this...they're adorable, perfect, gorgeous, and he suddenly couldn't care less about the designer jacket he paid a small fortune for. The biggest treasure is the human parading around in it.

'I was cold!'

'Ye're sittin' in a nest o' blankets!'

MC grinned, and Mammon knows he's doomed. That look spells disaster for his heart, especially when paired with those glistening eyes.

'They don't smell like you.'

The pout, the tone...he's wrecked. Dropping to his knees and hiding his face in their shoulder, clinging to his own jacket on their body as he greedily sought out the combined scents.

The smell of his cologne, and the smell of them, mixing together to his own senses, it made a part of him purr in delight.

'Ya gotta stop stealin' my clothes.' He grumbled falsely, jealously pawing at the material that dared be closer to them than he was.

'How 'bout no?'

Leviathan

He stopped...just...stopped.

MC sits like a proud cat on the bean bag they brought into his room, wrapped in his jacket and munching on their favourite snack with cheeks puffed like a chipmunk.

The cuteness made his heart feel three sizes too big for his chest, words stalled in his throat and he almost dropped his manga.

MC shuffled down into the seat, snuggling in as they giggled at his expression. 'You good, hun?'

'Tghh, uh...y-yeah!' He squeaked, shoving the door shut behind him.

'C'mere, I finally got through that last section on the game, was waiting for you to get here to move on.'

No, they don't get to be this cute, there's no way! No one could even write a protagonist this cute in any anime or series, they're too perfect, too wonderful, too much too much!

'Hey...you okay?'

They're looking at him now, frowning, worried, still wearing his jacket. He wants to be wrapped around them like that, wants to be that close.

Whether or not that human can read minds, he'll never know, all he knows is their warmth, cuddling close to him suddenly, throwing his arm over their shoulders and settling at his side.

That warmth seeped into him, chasing off the cold grip of envy. He could want for nothing, if they're wrapped up warm in him.

'Y-you...please don't stop stealing my clothes.'

MC giggled, reaching to peck his cheek. 'Never in a million years.'

Part 2 Here

#obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #lucifer x mc #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #obey me leviathan #leviathan x mc #ask me anything #obey me headcannons #hc asks

[loremaster]

CHAPTER 0: Stampede on the Amaterasu Express

(fitting that this should be posted on Zilch's birthday! EDIT: it was not in fact fitting because it was not in fact Zilch's birthday. whoever started posting Zilch stuff got me good T_T EDIT AGAIN: It WAS Zilch's birthday - the real one! I was right all along!)

Everything starts out pretty much the same.

A teeny little guy wakes up in a room full of umbrellas and is delighted to learn that his name is Yuma Kokohead. He catches his train at the last minute, but turns out there's an impostor in the room. Uh oh! Who could it be?

Aphex and Pucci use their Quirks Fortes to find out if there's anyone else aboard, and there isn't... but then Pucci hears something. Footsteps. Lots of footsteps, actually. Gaining speed on the Amaterasu Express. Yuma tries to look out a window, but there are none.* Tensions rise.

Aphex wants to head to the control room and stop the train. "So what if we don't know who's out there? I can take 'em!" Zilch disagrees. "You idiot! That's exactly what they want us to think. We're far safer in here. Do you want us to reach our destination alive or not?" Melami sides with Aphex. "This is too suspicious to ignore. I think we should see what the matter is. What if there's someone out there who needs our help? What if... it's a real fashion disaster?" Pucci agrees with Zilch. "If we keep the train running forward, we can wait to confront whatever's out there until the local law enforcement can help us... It's too loud to be any regular person..." Zange remains staunchly neutral. "We wouldn't even be having this discussion if this train had any windows! Damn Amaterasu, trying to show off this pointless automated technology... I bet this whole thing is a trap anyway!"

Meanwhile, Yuma is having an invisible crisis.

And then, from Yuma's perspective:

MYSTERY LABYRINTH TIME!!!!! Yuma explores the train cars with the detectives' belongings here in the ML instead of IRL. After gathering evidence, he is able to deduce that the many footsteps approaching the train are actually not humans, but a stampede of animals, presumably controlled by the real Zilch Alexander. He unmasks the hitman within the Labyrinth and they have a pose-off.

And the true culprit's soul is reaped in dazzling fashion!

But from the other detectives' perspectives...

Zilch literally just drops dead in the middle of an argument.

Melami: "Gasp! Aphex, you killed him!" Aphex: "What the--! I did not!! He fell forward!" Pucci: "...there's no heartbeat... He's... actually dead..." Zange: "That didn't look like heart failure to me." (sending the video footage to his phone)

Now with Aphex's rival out of the way, he, Melami, and Yuma can stop the train and finally see what awaits them outside!

Ohhh yeahhh, that's right. The hitman stole all of Zilch's clothes.

After Zilch strips a corpse and gets his clothes back, they are met at the station by Swank and the Peacekeepers, who are pissed that their boy is dead and also naked. Yakou intervenes as usual, and the whole crew goes to get boba!!!! Yayyyy!!!

*This post was written before I checked a screenshot of the game and realized the dining car DID have windows. Oops. So, either this AU there's no windows, or this is how it goes down instead:

I think even Shinigami could solve this one.

NEXT: PROLOGUE

#rain code #master detective archives #mda:rc #boba au #yuma kokohead #zilch alexander #aphex logan #melami goldmine #pucci lavmin #zange eraser #abcd art

[vickysaurus]

Something unexpected that I really love about Prehistoric Planet is how it stays in a single period in time and explores it, rather than trying to cover the entire Mesozoic and show the world changing. If you showed an alien the programme with the intro cut out and the title censored, they probably would never even guess it was a show about a distant time in Earth’s past. In just being a wildlife documentary that happens to be set 66 million years ago, it’s showing the Maastrichtian world as a living, full-formed, very real world that existed for an unbelievably long time, rather than a phase in an even longer evolutionary process. Now don’t get me wrong, I love wide sweeps of evolutionary history like Walking With Dinosaurs too, but Prehistoric Planet’s vibes are very different and I never knew I needed them. In fact, I’m really hoping we won’t even see a trace of the meteorite in episode five. Let me just go on a little tangent to really get into why.

This is Trix the T. rex. I saw her in the Naturalis natural history museum. She lived and died 67 million years ago. Now, it is very easy for me to see that date and be filled with a sense of impending disaster. ‘Just before the end’ is a thought that quickly appears. But when you really think about it, that’s ludicrous. Trix lived her life, and then after she died her species continued to thrive for a million years. There’s thrice as much time between her and the Tyrannosauruses who died in the K-Pg extinction as there is between me and the first members of my species! And as for the thousands of years of recorded human history, those are a mere drop in that sea of time. Those years didn’t pass any faster back then than they do now, nor were they any less real. There were just as many moments in any one of those thousand millennia between Trix and the meteorite as there were in the millennium between me and Basil the Bulgar-slayer. If a wizard told you your species and your world would continue to thrive for a million years before eventually most of your clade would get wiped out by a terrible catastrophe, would you see your world as a doomed and temporary one about to go over a precipice? I think I would be delighted to know we have such a vast sea of time left.

This got longer and more philosophical than I expected, but the point is that I love the focus on the Maastrichtian as a diverse, living world, rather than the last age of the Mesozoic. We don’t know whether Prehistoric Planet is set a million, fifty thousand, or nine hundred years before impact, and it doesn’t really matter either. Even though all those dates are, geologically speaking, so close to the end of the Cretaceous we could barely tell the difference between them, they all have more time left than any of the animals can possibly conceive of. None of the animals we see in Prehistoric Planet have ever seen a Stegosaurus, and none of them will die as a consequence of a meteorite striking the Earth.

#prehistoric planet #dinosaur #tyrannosaurus #vicky gets emotional and philosophical about dinosaurs #extinction #vicky's vritings

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

trigun is fascinated with natural disasters. with wide-sweeping events so far out of humanity's ability to comprehend the scale of the desctruction. vash, the humanoid typhoon. monev the gale. legato, whom the manga calls "the blue wind of death." knives's repeated insistence that he and vash are calamities, his delight in unleashing armageddon, the sodom and gomorrah he pulls on jeneora rock, the fact that he appears in the eye of a sandstorm--the characters of trigun, in and of themselves, are hurricanes.

trigun structures itself around natural disasters. the big fall, when the seed ships crashed onto gunsmoke. the july incident, when a city was leveled. fifth moon, when a hole was punched through one of gunsmoke's satellite moons. in the manga, meryl declares vash to be a human natural disaster; his actions are the work of god, and the damage that he leaves behind just a consequence.

and yet he takes the form of an angel.

#legato bluesummers #trigun #knives millions #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #not sure what this thought is going to become but something about trigun's focus on natural disasters while being a deeply\ #personal story is getting to me

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

games, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You don't have a crush on Min Yoongi. You two are just fucking. Yup. You ignore him for two weeks because of Pokémon. Sorry. Twelve days. He's mad about it (and drunk?). Oh, shit.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; OT6 are nosy so now it's somehow crack???? this always happens idk how; friends-with-benefits; soulmate vibes(?); ft my obsession Pokemon Scarlet / Violet; feels + smut (fem reader, penetrative sex, scratching, m-receiving oral, mutual masturbation, choking); non-idol!AU; switches between your POV and Yoongi's POV

--

“Yoongi?”

Wow, that was loud and unexpected. Knocked you right out of your very pleasant dream of stuffing your face at a buffet with thick, juicy slices of prime rib, complete with flakes of premium sea salt.

“YOONGI?!”

You could still almost taste it, but, like all dreams, the savory delight slipped away from you rapidly as you groggily blinked and realized you were resembling a croissant folded into this couch.

“You have a crush on Min Yoongi of all people?!”

Similar to the flaky buttery pastry, you had no idea what the fuck was going on. Unlike the product of a baker’s pride, sentient life required you to reorient yourself into humanity, hazily taking note of the MapleStory mushroom-printed blanket draped over you and your empty hands. Your hands had been holding your phone before you passed out. You were obsessed with mobile puzzle games recently. It was nice to have games on the go to occupy yourself instead of, bleh, socializing. It was awesome. When you figured them out too easily though, they made you sleepy.

Anyway, where the hell was your phone?

“Really?! Yoongi-hyung? Oh my gosh, he texted a human being all in his own? Wow!”

That kind of excitement could only be the voice of…

“Come on, guys, hyung’s been better about such things recently. He’s surprisingly sentimental, you know.”

And that sensible voice was none other than…

Someone snorted.

That was Kim Seokjin.

You rubbed your eyes to see a familiar man holding your very expensive Samsung smartphone with your customized Rotom phone case, poking at the screen as if he was his own.

“What kind of illegal activity are you doing over there?” you hummed as you sat up, knowing full well he did not possess access due to the fingerprint scanner. One time you snuck up on him as he tried to snoop on your phone. He had flung it, so this time you calmly stayed on the sofa as your longtime friend on the armchair jumped, thoroughly scaring himself and the lean, tan drink-of-sunshine standing behind him.

“You’re awake!” Seokjin blurted. Tall, gangly if you squinted, absolutely handsome, somehow always dancing on the edge of endearing caretaker and walking disaster, Kim Seokjin threw himself out of the plushy white armchair and shoved your phone into your face accusingly as if you were the one responsible of wrongdoing. His chestnut-brown poofy hair bounced as he relentlessly poked you in the head. “You’re texting Min Yoongi! Is that the one you have a crush on?!”

“Er, technically all hyung asked was when the group was meeting up…” Jung Hoseok squeaked, radiating apologies while Seokjin continued poking you in the head with his free hand. “I tried to tell him not to touch your phone.”

“I’m sure you did,” you replied. “I’m also sure he didn’t listen.”

“Hey. Answer me.”

“Hyung…” The concerned, deep voice was coming from the barstools in the kitchen behind you, in the don’t-annoy-her-that’s-rude-but-also-it's-not-my-place-to-scold-since-I’m-younger tone. Kim Namjoon, who was probably reading a book and drinking tea at the counter. He must have been banished there. The last time he had done the same activities in the living room, he had spilled tea all over Seokjin’s white rug. That had earned him a good yelling.

You glanced at Hoseok’s rueful expression and half-smiled, waving your hand to indicate you weren’t that bothered.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me.”

Kim Seokjin believed he needed to know such information about you because he had been your friend since your accountant mother started dragging you to house calls to a very specific home (mansion) in hopes of child you falling in love with the dashingly handsome son of one of her clients (she told his parents that it was because she couldn’t afford daycare, but even child you knew better). Instead, Seokjin and you became inseparable hopelessly addicted gaming fanatics that could not imagine each other naked without puking.

You did end up becoming inseparable. Just not in the way your mother wanted.

Oops.

“I don’t have a crush on Min Yoongi.”

“Oh yeah?” He said it in a high-pitched, disbelieving tone. You swatted his hand and snatched your phone from him, peering at the message preview. “Why is he texting you then, huh? HUH?”

Your phone vibrated.

Sorry to bother you. I would have texted Seokjin-hyung, but he’s annoying.

“He says you’re annoying.”

“Ex-cuse ME?”

“Here’s the proof.”

“EXCUSE HIM?!”

-

“What.”

“Let me in. It’s cold out here.”

“What are you doing here?” Kim Taehyung sputtered, obediently opening his apartment door to the slightly shorter, much more imposing figure of Min Yoongi. His long black hair was wild and windblown, puffy black parka zipped all the way up, hood out but useless at the moment. Light denim jeans and black boots crusted with snow. Nothing but his serious, intense demeanor made him imposing. Yoongi carefully kicked off the white ice before stepping in, slowly raising an eyebrow at Taehyung’s askew brown locks and rumpled gray sweat set.

“You’re not leaving like that are you?”

Taehyung frowned. “I’m not, duh. Jimin’s taking ages to use the bathroom. I think he fell in the toilet.”

“Hey! I heard that! Who’s out there?”

“You won’t believe it,” Taehyung shouted back to the disembodied voice coming from inside his apartment. He pushed his hair back from his eyes like he himself couldn’t believe it, revealing his classically handsome sharp features and stunned frown. “It’s Yoongi.”

“YOONGI?!”

The Min Yoongi, of the hour it seemed, rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing back there?” he called to the voice inside from the front hallway, not moving.

“Fixing my hair!” Park Jimin yelled back several decibels louder.

“I’m surprised,” Taehyung said, looking scowling Yoongi up and down like he was some kind of unidentified foreign object. “I thought you weren’t coming. Didn’t you say you were busy?”

“I made myself unbusy,” Yoongi grumbled back, pulling out his phone.

“You don’t make yourself unbusy for no reason.” Taehyung persisted, sticking his face in between Yoongi and his phone, making those cat-like eyes above narrow in annoyance.

“There’s alcohol.”

Taehyung wiggled his dark eyebrows. “I thought you were cutting back.”

Deadpan.

“Life’s shit, man.”

The younger male broke out into his boxy smile and booming laugh, pulling his head of brown curls back to double over. It was the combination of Yoongi’s dead-inside expression and monotone reply that was making Taehyung snort, that and Yoongi’s immediate return to his phone as if nothing was happening. Yoongi still made no move to actually step further into the apartment. He simply continued standing in front of the closed front door, on the welcome mat next to the shoes thrown about because Kim Taehyung couldn’t be neat unless he was impressing someone, and those people were not his best friend Park Jimin and unexpected-guest-but-still-friend Min Yoongi.

“You’re so funny, hyung.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows as he stared at his phone and gave Taehyung absolutely fucking nothing to work with to continue the conversation.

“I guess you intend to drink since you stopped by here,” Taehyung chattered on, bored and unbothered about Yoongi’s lack of communication. “I’m closest to the train station and in between the karaoke bar. Plus sharing a taxi with us is cheaper than paying on your own.”

Silence.

Taehyung prodded Yoongi’s arm.

“Uh huh.”

Innovative answer.

“I think everyone is going to be there then,” Taehyung continued on, smooth baritone voice calming as he listed the people. “Namjoonie-hyung, Seokjinnie-hyung, Hoseokie-hyung, Jimin, Jungkookie, you, me…”

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“He’s asleep.”

Taehyung pointed to the couch. There was a blob of gray, black and white, too much fabric and face-down into the couch pillows. A poof of wavy black hair the only indication the pile was a human and not forgotten laundry.

“What is he, a newborn infant?”

“I don’t know. He said he was tired. If we don’t let him nap now, he’ll pass out during karaoke and we’re not strong enough to carry him out. Remember last time?” Taehyung sighed.

The monochrome blob that was supposedly the man named Jeon Jungkook suddenly snored, as if on cue.

“Yeah, I don’t know what he’s is doing in the gym but he’s unmovable,” Yoongi muttered.

The phone vibrated.

“Oh, is that me?” Taehyung immediately felt around his pockets and looked around. “Ah, where did I–”

But it was not him. Yoongi looked down. Unfortunately, you’ll bear witness to my awful singing. I apologize in advance. The corner of his lips ticked as he read the message. He breathed out. One, two, three, four seconds, and typed back. That makes the two of us then. A part of him thought he shouldn’t have started this conversation. He wasn’t good at this small talk thing, but one had to make some kind of effort in getting to know someone. And, anyway, he knew himself.

Do before getting carried away.

And, yeah, he wanted to know this one.

“I knew it.”

Yoongi slowly blinked, sensing an ominous presence staring at his phone screen, most certainly reading the name there. Sigh. He pulled his arm back and put his phone in his pocket, looking up to see the grinning, scheming, falsely-angelic face of Park Jimin looming into his peripheral view.

“Oooh, Min Yoongi has a crush.”

Yoongi said nothing, because saying nothing was better than reaching over and strangling Jimin. The latter would require physical effort. Oh, and perhaps land him in jail for murder. But that was only because Taehyung was here as witness.

“Huh… I thought I got a notification,” the latter commented, emerging from his bedroom with his uncased smartphone. Yoongi often wondered how Taehyung never cracked it, but perhaps he just bought new ones when he did. Taehyung often chose aesthetics over practicality. “Oh, finally, you’re out of the bathroom. Do I have to open a window to spare myself?”

“Tae, Yoongi-hyung has a crush,” Jimin sing-songed, bouncing around the older male teasingly as Yoongi remained statuesque. “He’s texting Seokjinnie-hyung’s lady gamer friend.”

Yoongi did not confirm or deny this information as Taehyung’s brown doe eyes went wide.

“OH?”

“Hyung’s flirting.”

Yoongi felt his right eyelid twitch.

“Jungkookie! Jungkookie, wake up, I have news!”

The blob trembled, suddenly alive, shaken violently by a hyper-excited Taehyung who couldn’t believe his ears even though he did not fact-check Jimin and had zero proof if his best friend was telling the truth or not. Apparently, he was filled with too much glee to relay this sudden revelation to the youngest, sleepiest one of the soon-to-be-drunk-as-fuck-karaoke group.

“W... Wuh?”

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook was not that articulate when barely roused from the dead.

“Yoongi-hyung’s flirting!”

Those big peepers snapped open.

“He’s WHAT?!”

-

“Mmm.”

The night smelled like smoke and someone’s delicious dinner.

“I should, ah, head home now that you’re safely at your door and all that.”

The winter night framed his figure. A halo of streetlamp light caught the gloss of his wavy black hair. Long and dark and shadowy, strands curling around high cheekbones and fair skin. He caught your gaze as you turned to face him. Black-brown eyes and unreadable expression. Half-zipped parka, black sweatshirt, and blue jeans with gray paint splattered onto one knee. No scarf. Strange, because you knew this man was the kind of guy who always wore a beanie and prioritized sensibility over aesthetics, and yet.

Min Yoongi raised his hands and exhaled into his curled palms, warming his nose at the same time. He looked away from you to do so.

“Cold?”

He shrugged. “It’s winter.”

You half-smiled, lifting your ungloved left hand. “My hands are always warm. My face always gets cold first before my hands.”

He eyed your fur-lined leather jacket. A chocolatey faux fur, softness peeking out from the tougher black fabric. Then his eyeline shifted. Intently observing your face. If you were younger, you might have thought you had to react differently. Been shy like the movies or some shit.

You simply waited, keeping your touch hovering in the winter night.

Slowly, you lowered your hand.

Something fluttered in the darkness that was those eyes. You had seen it before, maybe even spied it earlier this night. It was only a get-together between friends, drinks and karaoke, neither activity you particularly enjoyed which led to your original decision of not going. One small detail changed your mind, and he was standing right in front of you. Your singing was awful, but Yoongi was still polite enough to say that you were better than he was. I’m only good at rap. Sure. You heard what he said and his singing voice proved to contradict it. So Min Yoongi was that kind of liar, huh.

You didn’t say goodbye yet.

You could see Yoongi was waiting for you to say it first. You removed your other hand from your jacket pocket. Empty, purposefully leaving your keys behind. Calmly stared into those dark eyes as he stepped forward. You could feel it. The fire beneath the waves. Felt it all night. In the stolen glances, in the way he spoke to you, polite with piqued curiosity, in the way time stopped when your eyes connected.

You smiled.

His cold fingers touched the back of your hand.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need the conversation to be with words. His hand on yours, chills wrapping around the warmth. Experiential. Testing the feeling between you and him. You didn’t need to wonder what he thought of you. He had reached out and touched your hand and you let him, reaching between you and him to softly rub the back of his knuckles, silently speaking to those dark eyes and parted lips through touch. His other hand raised and laid above your joined hands.

Black strands curved around his cheeks as Yoongi lowered his head.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he whispered, smokey and dusky.

Bodies closer, breath mixing. Your head tilted. Lashes lowering. Cold night air disappearing because of the fire under the water, breath to breath, hot, almost burning, the desire to break the surface rising, rising.

“Is it this?” you murmured, barely audible.

You could tell a lot from one kiss. He did not hide his hesitancy or his want. Honesty from the very beginning of his lips on yours, surprised at the way you pressed back against him and inhaled, imprinting the moment to your memory with his scent. Your grip tightened and his did too, telling you everything you needed to know, kiss after kiss, pulling him to you, away from the winter night and memories of a friendly get-together, about to change them into something…

Else.

Yeah.

Fuck it, you were already pushing his parka down his shoulders before your front door finished closing. It was dark but that didn’t matter when you remembered where everything was, flicking on low lights and bringing his face close to yours again, creating the magical moments on your own, not waiting for Yoongi for do so. He was enough magic in his breathless gasps and the way he seamlessly followed the fervor of your kiss, his shallow sighs saturated with lust. There was very little talking except the conversation of bodies. Not much to say when you collided him into the wall and slid your hands under his sweatshirt, skin to warm skin, kisses turning to hot breath and flicks of tongue against his neck, shivers under your lips, and then he flipped the situation, strong hands on your shoulders and rolling against the wall, pinning you with his body.

Hair all over his eyes.

Shaking inhale.

A hall lamp lighting the left side of his face.

“Too fast?” you asked softly.

Dark orbs flickered to yours.

“… No.”

Closer, his air becoming your air.

“I just don’t want you to think this is the reason I walked you home. I didn’t want you to get hurt. Walking at night alone isn’t safe. People are crazy.”

You half-smiled. Alright, more of a smirk. “Maybe I’m one of them.”

A light chuckle, impressed and amused at the same time. “I was trying to sober up too.” Giving excuses.

“Heard you have a high tolerance.”

“Alcohol is alcohol.”

“So, does the alcohol wanna fuck me or do you?”

No one ever called you subtle.

Yoongi closed the distance, his hair falling against your forehead. You could tell he was struggling with himself whether or not to be swept up in the waves of your fire, or maybe struggling with what was wrong and what was right, or maybe he was hesitating once he felt your relentless energy under his hands, but you could also feel something pressing against your crotch and it wasn’t one of his legs.

He was very calm once he made his decision.

“What do you like?”

Your hands in his hair, his ear between your teeth, and his moan into your pillows. Clothes all over the floor, body to body, so much heat that you both seemed to forget it was winter. His hand on your breasts, your hard nipples between his fingertips, your mouth opening and extending your tongue, teasing him, tangling your legs in his. There was some irresistible about his smile and his smirk. You chased both, running your nails over his back and ass, his hard cock pressed to your thigh and his hiss against your neck, do you have condoms, we shouldn’t, but he didn’t need to finish since you were already prepared.

“I’m not irresponsible.”

“Oh?” Yoongi cocked an eyebrow. Glanced at your rumpled sheets, his naked body as he rolled down the condom, and then at your naked body. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

You just smirked.

You were often careful after the first time, following the energy of the other person rather than your own desires. But this time, something was different. Your hand would press to his chest, fingernails curling in, and, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, his length filling you, contented sighs mixing, raking your nails down, lines of pain in your wake, listening to his hitched breath, his eyes flashing.

He didn’t say it, but his voice was in his racing heartbeat and throbbing cock.

More.

Not quite competitiveness but more like pleasure from pushing the limit. There was a certain measure of reservedness, like how he waited patiently for you to lift your leg up onto his shoulder. First one, and then you tapped his other arm. Yoongi raised his eyebrows, but he lifted his other arm, hand back to your mattress once you were folded under him.

You lifted your hips up and rammed into his crotch.

He sucked in a growl and winced, screwing his eyes shut. Probably to avoid you seeing anything too embarrassing. You let your muscles slowly close in around him, squeezing his hardness, letting yourself feel him inside you. Appreciating. He didn’t move right away. You did, steadily fucking him from below, his chest against your thighs, keeping the smirk on your face to stay as infuriating as possible.

“Fucking… Are you enjoying this?”

Low and dangerous, sweet chills up your spine at his deep voice.

“Do you fuck without the intent of enjoying it?” you countered.

He narrowed his eyes and fucked you into your mattress. Merciless and hard and deliberate. Good rhythm, which you expected. Intensity over speed, which you did not expect. Yoongi knew what he was doing. He was not just chasing his own pleasure. There was no need to with the way that you were nearly sending him over the edge with the control of your own muscles. He slowed down for a moment, lifting a hand and tracing your jaw with his fingertips, whispers under his pants, you have nice lips, you know, the perfect shape, and you licked the air, the tongue is better.

Cocked eyebrow, open-mouthed smirk.

“I’ll have to find out next time.” He ticked his head downward. “You wanna get off with me?”

“I will if you fuck me hard enough.”

“You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not. You’ll feel it, trust me.”

You thrusted with him to get that depth you liked and he did, in fact, feel it.

“F-Fuck!”

You bit your lower lip and grinned, throwing your head back and feeling your moan vibrate in your chest, lengthening your high with the containment. Eyes closing, no more talking, your arms up and hands clutching the pillows, fucking him as he fucked you, his swears turning into moans as he felt your orgasm convulse around him, honey wetness sticking to your inner thighs and his, chasing a higher high, cutting off every one before the final crescendo, not letting yourself fully let go, not yet, almost there, not yet.

Saturating every second with vicious, hot pleasure.

Somehow Yoongi knew. Felt it, chased it with you, his muscles tense, rigid, holding back too, building the higher high, harder, steady, fuck, so good.

Your name tumbling from his throat, the warning, and his from yours, the moment, orgasm so intense you forgot to breathe for a second, suspended, and then the crash, gasping as you felt him twitch inside you and your walls pulse, electricity shooting through your nerves, tingling and euphoric, gripping your pillows covered in your hair as Yoongi leaned forward and covered you in his hair and hot breath, colliding kiss matching the escalating beats of racing hearts.

Yoongi stared into your eyes much later, all his clothes back on.

“What?” you asked.

“Just memorizing your eyes.”

He kissed you.

-

“Love is more circumstance than fate.”

“I always thought so, too.”

These kinds of things came up in conversation around others. These were moments that happened by happenstance. For instance, in the middle of Taehyung’s tirade about how true love was definitely fate between two beings who had a connection unique to themselves that could not be replicated, and he deliberately ignored Yoongi when he pointed out that every connection one had with another was unique because it was between two individuals.

You and Yoongi shared a look of faint amusement in the midst of Taehyung’s abrupt soapbox speech.

Hoseok blinked and repeated his question of whether or not he suited the acorn-shaped pouch that was slightly overpriced despite being on sale. Namjoon injected and said that if he has asking then it meant that he was hesitating. Seokjin told him who cares, just buy it, it’s cute. That was enough convincing for Jung Hoseok. He brought it on the spot.

You found Yoongi afterward, waiting for you around the corner.

“Oh. I thought you went home.”

He looked at you, lowering the hood of his parka.

“I thought about it, but it had been a while since I appreciated the night.”

Then there was silence, until you were close, and then those dark eyes stayed on you, tendrils of black between you and him. Your fingertips touched the button placket of his coat. His head lowered. His breath had a little sweetness to it because of the Korean liquor. You kissed him.

You closed your eyes when you did.

You didn’t say much more.

You didn’t really look at his apartment when you arrived. You were too entangled in the lip lock and pinning his wrists to the wall. Heat pressed to heat. His tongue thrusting between your lips. The cold rapidly defrosting once skin was against skin.

Your nails down his chest.

Heavy exhale, burning anticipation.

You didn’t need to ask yourself, why am I like this. People spent years wondering on their own, but those years were already behind you, in lonely nights of both your parents working overtime and you alone at the table doing homework, cooking your own meals, cleaning up after yourself. If you wanted the video games to distract your brain, you had to be a good daughter. Being a good daughter was not that hard. Do all the things you were supposed to do and take up as little mental space as possible.

Something like that.

You ran your tongue along the inside of Yoongi’s thigh and savored his shudder.

The only detail that slightly annoyed your mother was that you weren’t interested in marrying Seokjin and Seokjin was clearly not interested in marrying you. Not much she could do about that. She gave up on asking for those kinds of details after that, mostly to avoid her own disappointment.

You wrapped your tongue around hot, taut skin, controlling the pressure of your tongue and lips. Up, down, tongue moving independently along the underside of the head, so precise that you saw his fingers sink into his sheets, surprise rippling over his features. Raised an eyebrow at him, letting the amusement show.

Yoongi smirked, a look that suited him very much.

All the way down, hitting the back of your throat. Easy. Guess a lot of people could call you a whore for that but, then again, the ones who actually knew were probably too busy pining over the fact that they would never feel it once more. Didn’t help that you acted as if it never happened once you were done.

You had dedication to games, but to people?

Not really.

It was fun to figure out people. It was fun discovering Yoongi. His sounds, every sigh, the tone of his moan, the way his breath shook when you took him deep and slow. He became very hard every time you went as deep as possible, past the point of breathing. He didn’t try to push your head or interfere with your pace. It was as if he trusted your movement, which was what he should do, because you knew what you were doing.

You swirled your tongue around the head as you went down.

He sucked in a gasp and closed his eyes, visible tension over his chest.

There was a strange familiarity to his movements. That was the only way you could describe the ease of reading his body language. Sometimes you let yourself feel the extent of the pleasure and sometimes you let the pressure build in your body to wallow in the torture of the buildup, like what he was doing now. He wanted to last, so you made it last. Not too fast. Tongue all over his hard, pulsing length, slowing down at the right moment of his hips shivering, layering the intensity again, stroking his balls as you sucked him, spreading the dripping saliva all over.

You hadn’t been having sex with Yoongi for very long, but it felt like you already knew his body.

You let him consider the possibility of you not letting him cum and then you continued the intensity, pushing him over the edge.

“… F-Fuck…!”

Rammed the throbbing head down your throat and felt his thick, salty orgasm spurt into the confines, leaking over your tongue and the roof of your mouth, breathing in to push it back. His hips involuntarily jerked and you immediately reached up to grip them and shove him back down, swallowing around the harsh pulses.

You heard Yoongi moan, low and sweet and erotic.

People were like games.

Only few had replay value.

-

He thought about saying something, but there wasn’t much to say.

It was his policy to not make something out of nothing. Grander, more general things, sure, he kept those ambitions. But, day-to-day, he learned it was better to go with the flow. You didn’t have disappointments if you didn’t expect much to begin with, so Yoongi didn’t expect much and let himself feel what he wanted to feel.

Like his hands on those thighs and pressing delicious legs to his chest as he sank in.

He tended to enjoy the fucking on top simply because it was easier for him. Most of the time, he didn’t feel much need to experiment or be creative. Most of the time, they weren’t worth it. Her? He fucked her in every position he could think of. This time, he felt the urge to fuck with most of his clothes on, with her holding up his shirt as he thrust into her on the edge of the bed. Not the most optimal position for maximum pleasure, but the arousal in the unnatural movement was enough to get him off.

Her too.

He could tell by the unforgiving clenching around his cock and the sopping wetness that was sticking to his balls, which was causing him to last minutes. You would think the human body would last longer if it felt better, so the pleasure could be felt more extensively, but his dick was much more interested in the instant gratification it was getting.

Oh, well.

He would have to fuck multiple times then, to prolong the pleasure.

She was the one to ask him first. Meeting without the false alibi of just happening to be at the same gathering at the same time. He went with the flow. Their fingertips touching. Her leaning in and kissing his collarbone, lips so soft that they made his nerves spark and muscles shiver, tilting his head back as her tongue traced a thin line upwards, wet heat against his pulse, her hand falling from his hand, tracing his neck.

“Choke me,” he whispered.

Yoongi liked doing things for the sheer curiosity of it.

She sucked on his ear when she choked him and electrified his whole body with lust, his hands finding her hips and slamming them down on his crotch, moaning into her ear shamelessly.

Yoongi knew he got himself into moments like this.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.

His fingers buried into her wet, warm pussy and he inhaled, drinking in the sweet scent of her juices, in, out, so good, the feeling of power and pleasure at his fingertips, tactile and visceral and intense. Staring into those piercing eyes with one hand around his neck and the other around his hard cock, choking both until he came on her thigh and hip, but not before she came onto his fingers, pushing himself to the brink with his forearm vibrating. Ended up being sore the next day.

Worth it.

Yoongi told himself to do before getting carried away.

He was getting carried away, especially when he was alone.

His shaking breath, breathe in, breathe out, high on the bliss, their lips colliding, covered in each other, salty, sweet, sticky, closer but not, and it was nobody’s fault but his own, because he always thought about saying something, but didn’t.

There wasn’t much to say.

He looked into those eyes, and he didn’t want to say anything. Just wanted to appreciate their shape, their color, the feeling they gave him when he gazed into them, like he could live million lifetimes but recognize those eyes every time. A strange kind of familiarity that didn’t have an explanation. He had known Kim Seokjin for a while, but Seokjin was protective of his female friends, especially his most important one.

So, Yoongi stayed respectful until his brain started getting carried away because his dick wasn’t doing enough.

Well.

He tried.

-

“I gotta ask you something.”

“You can ask me after you press A, you dimwit.”

“I am pressing A. It’s lagging!” Seokjin growled, bopping you on the arm. You continued leaning against his broad shoulder as the Pokémon raid loaded up. “Are you dating Yoongi?”

“Mmm,” was your reply as you pressed the buttons in order. Battle, Swords Dance, on your Ceruledge. Had to get the setup going to do the most damage before your stats become nullified. The raids in Pokémon were meant to convince players to participate in online play, but math and logic could help you solo or duo them quite easily. You needed Seokjin there so you had one less idiot AI. In fact, Seokjin only purchased this generation of Pokémon to help you out in certain things. Raids and completing the Pokédex. He wasn’t as attached to the series as you were. He played so he could understand what you meant when referencing it, but he wasn’t that invested.

He was a good friend.

“Are you or not?”

“Don’t think it’s any of your business,” you responded absentmindedly, reaching over to command his statistically-perfect Arboliva that you gifted him for this very purpose to perform Helping Hand. You might as well have been doing this raid alone. Seokjin was basically simply a spare console accompanied by a warm body.

For now.

Kidding… unless?

Nah, he was too much fun to tease.

“It is my business. You’re my friend, he’s my friend and, if you two are dating, it’ll make the group all weird.”

“Your friend group is already all weird.”

Seokjin prodded you in the head as you selected Bitter Blade for your attack move. “Be serious.”

“Ask him.”

“I did. He said to ask you.”

“Huh.”

Silence.

“… I’ll kill him if he abandons you.”

You couldn’t pause the raid. It was timed and the raid Pokémon had to be defeated in that time, or you would get kicked out. You didn’t say anything. Just kept pressing buttons, turning automatic.

“Well, I won’t kill him. I’ll make Jungkook kill him.”

Reaching over Seokjin, who did nothing to help you. He just held the Switch as you selected the correct moves and thought about who you needed to raise next. Maybe a Gardevoir. You needed more special attackers to avoid Abilities like Cursed Body and the Burn status condition.

Seokjin was suddenly quiet.

“… You think he’d do that?” you finally said, not quite sure what you meant in asking that.

You felt a hand on your head, bringing you closer to broad shoulders and his game.

“I don’t know.”

One thing about Seokjin was that he always told the truth.

-

“Are you getting your dick wet or what?”

Yoongi blinked slowly.

“What?”

“Jimin, you can’t ask that,” Hoseok scolded, whacking Jimin’s chopsticks with his own to punish the younger male because the walking sunshine was too pure-hearted to physically strike Jimin. “Eat your food.”

Jimin thinned his plump lips and gave Yoongi the side eye instead of eating his meal like Hoseok told him to. “I think you are. I feel it.”

Yoongi made the executive decision to ignore Jimin and continue serving himself the soup, adding plenty of vegetables. “Hoseok, haven’t you been working a lot lately? You need to eat more meat. You’re getting too thin.”

“You sound like my parents, hyung,” Hoseok laughed jovially as Yoongi added extra slices of marinated beef onto his plate. “Thanks, thanks.”

“Don’t avoid the question,” Jimin continued, buzzing away like a determined bee.

“I get it wet every day. It’s called a shower.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And I answered you.”

Jimin squinted under his fluffy auburn locks. “You’re sussy.”

“Huh?” Hoseok blinked rapidly, cocking his head. “Sussy?”

“Suspicious. Taehyung taught me.”

Hoseok’s lips curled into a round ‘o’, seemingly filing away this new lingo. “Man, sometimes I feel so old around you and Taehyung even though I’m only a year older.” The bustling restaurant complimented his cheerful voice, warm smells and fragrant conversation mixing with the clinking of plates and glasses. He reached over the table, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re talking to someone though. I thought you were going to die alone.”

Those cat-like eyes shifted away.

“… Thanks.”

Nothing more.

“Uh oh, there’s trouble in paradise already.”

“Is something wrong?” Hoseok asked, frowning slightly at the older male’s reaction.

Yoongi sighed, and shook his head.

“It’s nothing. There’s not much to say about it.”

Hoseok caught on right away, nodding intently. “Right! Speaking of, Jimin, I heard you are leading a theater production all on your own.”

“A-Ah, just the choreography for the songs…” A small hand attempted to wave away Hoseok’s sudden unwavering excitement. “Really, it’s not that serious…”

“Yes, it is! A musical! With weeks and weeks of shows…!”

Yoongi avoided looking at his phone all night. He kept his eyes forward and focused on the conversation with his friends. If he didn’t, he would be stuck in his thoughts, wondering what all those nights really meant if all he had now was silence and a loveholic’s hangover he didn’t ask for.

-

“Oh, shit.”

Those were the first words you had spoken to a real, physical, in-the-flesh human being in a long time (Seokjin didn’t count). First words you had spoken all day, actually. Wait. Maybe you exclaimed out loud, you little fucker, get in the damn ball, earlier. Highly probable. No need to censor yourself when you were at home.

“You have left me on read for two weeks.”

“Oh… shit.”

After the shock had set in, the cold suddenly became apparent. It was winter, after all. Extra obvious by the snow on the ground and the big black parka the person outside your door was wearing, although the red flush around his neck and cheekbones was not from the icy breeze.

“Two weeks,” the man at your front door repeated with a growl, and he started advancing which, in most cases, would be a sign to call the police.

“Surely,” you sputtered, fumbling with your phone in your other hand, letting go of the knob because the screen was tab after open tab of various Pokédex entries of the Pokémon you were considering spending your previous in-game money on to make statistically perfect. Ahem, anyway, you hurriedly changed apps to your Messages app, your eyes widening as you saw the dates of your last messages.

Oh shit.

“Actually, it’s only been twelve days–”

“Twelve days of nothing,” he snapped, slamming closed your front door that you were honestly slightly grateful for. It was fuckin’ cold out there. “And what do I hear tonight? Just yesterday you were speaking to Jeon Jungkook on the phone.”

And, at this point, Min Yoongi got in your face.

You held your phone close to your purple sherpa pullover and stepped back as a stern, gracefully annoyed expression confronted you. Wild long black hair, furrowed eyebrows, and flashing dark eyes. Flushed pink lips twisted into irritation. Open jacket revealing his black sweater and light blue jeans, strange for such a cold night.

“Have you been drinking?” you observed, catching a whiff of his exhale.

“I’m not drunk,” Yoongi countered, backing up and scowling. “I was at Namjoon’s and then I remembered you lived nearby. So, I walked.”

“You… walked?”

“Yeah.”

You blinked slowly.

“Kim Namjoon… if you’re walking… that’s about an hour away….”

The scowl straightened out, leaving a stoic profile as Yoongi refused to look at you.

He grunted.

You were surprised.

“I… Jeon Jungkook called me.” You felt the sudden urge to fill the space of silence as the man before you kept his gaze at a firm ninety-degrees to the wall despite your face being right there. “He was worried about Seokjin, because he kept trying to call him. Seokjin had sent him a box of grapes from his uncle’s farm and Jungkook was trying to thank him via call because his mom told him he couldn’t simply text, but Seokjin wasn’t answering the calls and then Jungkook got worried so he called me since I have Seokjin’s family number but then I reminded Jungkook that that rich guy and his family went to a luxurious mountain resort to go skiing and wouldn’t be back until next weekend,” you finished in a jumbled mess of oversharing.

Silence.

You were highly aware that your Nintendo Switch was loudly playing the classic, cheery jingle of the Pokémon Center in your bedroom, echoing the bright notes throughout your apartment as, er, your possibly-soon-to-be-past fling? current interest? situation-ship? continued staring at the wall as if the paint was the one speaking to him.

To reiterate, you were surprised.

“I… I didn’t think you cared,” you explained, looking up at Yoongi.

He turned his head.

Looking down, black hair around his cheeks. Lashes lifting, slow motion, dark brown orbs raising, then the darkness was on you, and there was no anger, no malice, the heated air of his rash imposition fizzling out once your eyes connected.

His lips parted.

Nothing came out, as if he was about to say something emotional but then stopped himself. His brows knitted together, a moment of recollection, and then.

“Namjoon said I should be honest, so I’m here to tell you that you pissed me off by ignoring me,” he mumbled.

You blinked. Slowly, once again.

“O… Oh. I apologize.”

Silence except heartbeats.

Yoongi looked away.

You could piece the entire picture together now. Your eyes shifted, side to side, to his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, to the faint tint of pink around his ears and neck, to his relaxed shoulders and that tense heart, and you were surprised because Yoongi had always held himself with a devil-may-care attitude and straightforward bluntness. Not that you didn’t think there was more, but rather it seemed as if he didn’t want to address that under any circumstances and you had no need for more when you were your own happiness, and so you asked him another question.

“Is this you or the alcohol talking?”

Yoongi clicked his tongue and frowned, flickering glare meeting you. “Alcohol doesn’t make you a different person. I’m not someone else just because I had a few bottles with Namjoon. I have a high tolerance anyway.”

You smiled.

“I know. Wanted to make sure you were thinking the same thing I was.”

That was why Yoongi and you ended up in this situation. Because he seemed to always end up thinking the same thing you were. There wasn’t much discussion or mystery. There was you and there was him in the same place at the same time. Multiple times. Overlapping interests, but not all the same. Kept things interesting. Discovering you had the same core values and then the same kind of comfortable silence that turned into his hand on yours, experimental, are you thinking what I’m thinking, bodies closer, breath mixing, heads tilting, is it this?

Playing the game.

The Pokémon Center music faded out and then picked up again, always aggressively joyous, always ready to nurse your team back to full health.

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. “Hah… I’ve just… been playing the new Pokémon game came out recently, so I took time off to play it… thought I said…”

“You did say,” he interrupted.

Awkward pause.

“You did say,” and this time Yoongi sighed, suddenly smacking his palm into his forehead and rubbing it, mussing up his own hair. “You did say, and I believe everyone should enjoy something with the kind of passion you exhibit for your interests. I just wanted you to involve me even though I know nothing.”

You stared at him.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why would I involve you in something you don’t care about?”

“I don’t care about it yet.”

“Why would you care about it?”

He flung his hand away from his face and scowled. “Are you an idiot?”

“Depends, are you confessing?”

Again, no one ever called you subtle.

Frigid embarrassment, and it wasn’t from you. Shocking. Suddenly your wall became irresistible to Yoongi’s eyeballs once more. You patiently waited.

“… No.”

“Ah. I see.”

You did see, straight through his bullshit.

Yoongi pursed his lips and gave you the side-eye. “I don’t want to play games.”

You shrugged. “Well, I do, because I’m a nerd, and I could make you a nerd too if you take off your shoes and come to the bedroom.” Chewed on your lip and felt that you should go back to being serious, at least for a moment. “I am sorry. I thought you would call me a kid, and I like you enough to not want you to be so ignorant, so I especially avoided speaking much about playing Pokémon. Honestly, I would rather hear you say that you don’t want to see me anymore than hear you talk shit about my cute pocket monster friends.”

Yoongi surprised you again.

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t hate Pokémon. I used to watch the animation as a kid. I somewhat regret not being more into it, because then maybe you would have let me in a lot more if we had that common interest.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“Putting your dick in my pussy is not letting you in a lot more?”

He raised an eyebrow back.

“You’re right. That was the alcohol talking,” he replied in a deadpan voice.

You smiled.

He smiled back. It did not seem like he wanted to and it did not seem like he could help himself either. What a predicament. You couldn’t relate.

“Do people like to tell you you’re difficult?” you asked with too much glee, unable to hide your amusement any longer.

The corner of his lips twitched. “All the fuckin’ time.”

You nodded knowingly. “Did you know we have that in common?”

He ticked his head at you, messy black hair over his cheeks and open-mouthed smirk. “Strangely enough, I seem to have learned that tonight.”

“I’m about to teach you a lot more, this time about Pokémon and not about how deep I can throat dick.”

“Consider giving me a supplemental lesson about the latter in the morning when I’m completely sober.”

“Hmm, I accept if can you listen without falling asleep.”

Yoongi eventually did fall asleep, but he did last three hours and retained most of the information in the morning despite being a drunk, ahem, not drunk (according to him) man confessing his feelings at your doorstep. In the future, once he had purchased his own game and was playing alongside you, he would insist that moment was not the one when he confessed, that he definitely confessed later (sober, mind you), and that he definitely did not purchase a Nintendo Switch and start studying the Pokédex more because of you (he had simply found the game a good way to wind down).

Games were just more fun to play now when he had a player two.

Yeah.

We know better.

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you