#*Snugs the Rose Ten*

[rune-writes]

Blissful Serenity

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Word count: 1189

Rating: G

Pairing: Cloud Strife/Tifa Lockhart

Summary: Cloud returns to Tifa's bar and finds her asleep on the table.

Notes: written for @clotiweek 2024 Day 5: Gentle.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tifa sat, propped on a stool with her head on the bar counter and her arms folded beneath it as cushion, so when Cloud entered the store and the bell jingled, he reached up with his hand to still it. It was only half past ten. While there were still people up and about, the street outside was mostly empty. The lights at the storefront were still on, but the sign had been flipped to ‘CLOSED’. Judging from the kitchen towel loosely held in Tifa’s fingers, she had probably been in the middle of cleaning the counter when she fell asleep. He wished she had locked the store up. He could have used the back door. 

Quietly, Cloud shut the door, gently avoiding the bell so as not to make a sudden noise that would jerk her awake. It still let out a faint tinkle, but nothing more than that. 

Cloud weaved around the cluster of tables and chairs then, once he arrived at the bar counter, placed the grocery bag on the table surface. He looked at her sleeping posture. Tranquil; her shoulders rose and fell in steady rhythms. 

Cloud pulled a chair from under the counter and sat. Then he set his elbow on the table and propped his face on his fist. Then he folded his arm and rested his face side-ways, looking at her. 

The light cast shadows on her face. With each breath she took and every one she exhaled, her long ebony bangs fluttered. He reached up and stroked her hair, attempting to move the stray strands out of the way, but his fingers caught on her forehead, and she stirred. 

Cloud froze as Tifa groaned. She shifted her head in her sleep, her lips smacking quietly in the silence. With bated breath, he watched—waited—until Tifa nestled into the crook of her arms again and her breathing grew steady once more. A half-sigh, half-chuckle escaped Cloud’s mouth. He cocked his head and peered into her face. When he was certain the deep lull of slumber had pulled her under, he carefully slipped his fingers beneath her bangs and moved them out of the way. 

She was beautiful. The thought came unbidden but familiar now. He’d lost count how much it had jumped at him every time he beheld the full view of her profile. It settled in his mind and inside his heart, a puzzle piece finding its snug fit within the chaos of himself. But that night, something felt different. 

Cloud’s eyes traced the lines of her jaw to the smooth contours of her cheek, up the curve of her brows and back to her slightly parted lips. She looked so… serene, so unguarded. On his last visit, Barret had mentioned how Tifa looked different. Cloud hadn’t noticed it but Barret had said how she’d gotten a lot more relaxed.

“Seems the store’s doing you good,” he’d said with a nod. 

She’d smiled, sweet and small, and Cloud hadn’t thought much about it then, but seeing her like this now, he couldn’t help wondering if perhaps Barret was right. If anything, her countenance was devoid of the quiet agitation he would sometimes spot when she thought no one was looking. Her face looked softer now, her posture a tad more peaceful with herself. She had even left the store unlocked while she slept at the bar. Cloud knew she could defend herself should any unsavory people find their way inside, but the thought that she had to defend herself made his blood boil. 

She shouldn’t. She’d gone through so much. From Nibelheim to Midgar and now here, at the edge of what had been the capital of the world’s leading nation, finally finding the place where she could finally be. 

Cloud’s fingers hovered over her face for a split moment before his knuckles touched her pale porcelain skin. Then he paused, waiting for her reaction. She didn’t stir, so, with feather-light strokes, he caressed her cheek. 

She was so soft; so strong; and yet so fragile. 

What had he ever done to deserve her? 

Tifa groaned again, but this time Cloud didn’t still his hand. He watched her eyelids flutter open. Her ruby gaze glazed over before locking sleepily on him. “Cloud?” Her sleep-laden voice murmured. Cloud had to fight off the smile creeping into his face. 

“Good evening, sleepy head. Sorry I’m late.” 

Her own smile bloomed across her features. She closed her eyes again, and he could see that she was savoring the gentle, soothing touch his fingers brought.

“Hey,” he said. “Come on, let’s not sleep out here.”

Tifa responded by reaching up with her hand and slipping her fingers in-between his. She let their intertwined hands drop onto the table counter. “I’m tired,” she mumbled. “Five more minutes.” 

“We still need to clean up and close the shop, put the groceries away.” Her responding moan drew a chuckle out of him. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“No, I won’t.”

He scoffed, light-hearted in manners. Tifa wasn’t sleeping—at least, not yet. Her brows were knitted in a way that told him she was pretending to be asleep. And if not that, then the curve of her lips gave her away. 

Cloud pushed himself off the table then began stroking her head. She seemed to relax even more. 

“Had a long day?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Busy. Customers wouldn’t stop coming.”

“I guess that new pizza recipe really took off.”

Tifa chuckled under her breath. “It was sold out halfway through our rush hour.”

“No wonder you asked me to get more of the stuff. Yuffie made a good marketing manager, huh?” 

At that, Tifa laughed. She finally raised her head and met Cloud’s mirthful gaze across the counter. Sleeping on the side of her face for the past half hour or so had made some strands of her raven hair stick to her cheek and some to her lips. Cloud pried those strands away, then he straightened her bedhead and patted the side of her head for one good measure. As his hand lingered on her face, Tifa leaned into his touch. 

No word could ever properly explain the swelling in Cloud’s heart every time he witnessed her peaceful expression—as though it seemed to say that all was right again in the world. They still had ups and downs and some days could’ve been better, but those mundane trivialities seemed trifling at the face of all they had had endured. God knew how much she had done for him and sacrificed for him and part of him wondered how he could ever pay her back. Perhaps, one day, he could learn how to console her the way she had always consoled him. But until such time came, he would do what he could to make sure her smile never lost its luster. 

He brought her hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand. A touch of pink colored Tifa’s cheeks, but her eyes crinkled in delight. 

“Come on,” Cloud said. “Let’s close up for the night so we can rest.”

Tifa nodded. “Sure.” 

~ END ~

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 38

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more? Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. Chapter 38 Caution to the wind They found themselves on the bed. How did they even get there? One moment they were kissing by the mirror. The next he laid on top of her, feeling the soft comforter beneath them. “Gosh, you’re sweaty,” Effie sighed against his mouth. Haymitch shuddered at the feel of her fingers along his shoulder blades, tracing the contours of whatever muscles he had. “Sorry.” “I’m not.” Without another word, she sought his lips in an open-mouthed kiss and Haymitch responded with the same heat, fueled by the passion they had been denied for so long. As though their lips were dripping with a sweet poison neither of them could get enough of. Her bosom rose and fell, imprisoned by the tight outfit. He would not get a finger inside the snug fabric but he cupped his hand around her left breast and gave it a soft squeeze. The act made her gasp, head arched back against the pillow. “God, I’ve missed you!” Tears rolled down the sides of Effie’s eyes and vanished amidst a tangle of curls. Her arms, once around his shoulders, moved downward to the buckle of his belt. The crave for more, evident in each tug and pull, made his breath hitch in his throat. “Wait,” he breathed. “Wait, wait, sweetheart.” He broke away, creating just enough distance to get the words out. “Let’s just kiss, alright?” “I don’t want to ‘just kiss’.” She closed the gap and Haymitch groaned from the delicious jolts of pleasure her eager hands built up in him, still struggling with that belt. Lost to the sweet sensation, his eyes fluttered close and he grinded against her touch, despite himself. “We really shouldn’t.” The words were so weak it was pathetic. His breathing grew more and more labored and he nudged her hair away with his nose and kissed her neck until his name spilled from her lips, like a prayer.

Her hands were still fiddling with his belt and he had to bite down hard to keep from begging her to touch him. Instead he mustered up every last inch of effort and got a hand in between himself and her dangerous intrusion. “We don’t have a condom, Eff.” “I don’t care.” Her sighed consent, the green light as far as his body was concerned, ripped through his paper thin resistance. Their lips crashed together and Haymitch tugged and tore at the belt just as eagerly as her. Together, it didn’t take them ten seconds and he hissed with pleasure when she slipped her fingers inside his pants, his underpants. “Eff!” he gasped as she pulled them down completely, not sure what he was begging for at this point. “Oh, God, I … Effs, we can’t. I don’t know if I …  What if I get you pregnant?” “I don’t care!” Groaning, his hands vanished inside her dress and he didn’t care either. Didn’t want to care. For a fraction of a second he was back in the woods, back on top of her on a bed of grass where he made her his for the first time. Or where she made him hers was perhaps a more accurate description. Their kisses were sloppy, just like then. Sloppy and uncoordinated and wild with despair. Her legs hugged his hips – as close as two people could get without being one – and the few times her eyes were open he saw nothing but the same crushing want he felt. Like a relentless tug of mighty waters you could not escape, not for long, bringing you closer and closer to the rocky shores. When was her last period? Was she ovulating now? God help him, he couldn’t think anymore! The scent of Effie’s strawberry hair filled every inch of his battered, beat-up, shaking, exhausted body and he only wanted one thing. Her. He wanted to ease himself into her softness and warmth and not stop. Not pull out. Just thrust into her again and again until he came. Consequences be damned. And he would. Would’ve gone with her anywhere. Right off the deep end. If it wasn’t for one little problem that neither of them took into account. Just as Haymitch’s hand slipped in between his legs to guide himself the last few inches – a very familiar sound rose from the kitchen. A baby. Crying. Dazed, Haymitch stilled against Effie and their lips broke apart with a soft smack. The angry cries of their little boy cut through the doors and walls, the very boards, breaking the fragile spell they had woven together. It was like waking from a dream. A drunken stupor. They looked at each other – stunned, stupefied – as the fog lifted, leaving everything painfully clear. Haymitch’s heart still pounded in his chest, hard and thick, but he let go of himself and as more and more blood left that very specific area, cold, hard reality came rushing in, bringing him back to himself. Effie too struggled to catch her breath. Her legs slumped back against the mattress, drained from energy and her eyes, once clouded by lust, met his with growing dread. Mouth dry, Haymitch drew back before he’d get sucked in again. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and there he remained. Didn’t think his legs would hold him right now. Elbows on his thighs, his forehead sunk into the heels of his palms. Effie was just as Avox mute. Back against the pillows, she stared ahead in her ill-fitting outfit and untamed hair. “What’re we doin’?” The weight of his question hung heavy in the air. Like walls, about to cave in. Effie shook her head. “I don’t know.” Downstairs, their son kept crying. He’d be damned if the sound didn’t get louder and louder all the time – reverberating against the inside of his skull. “Do you wanna go or shall I?” “I’ll take care of it.” With a foolish attempt to smooth down her hair she climbed out of bed and pulled her panties back on. “Effs, the dress …” he said weakly, stopping her from leaving. “Oh! Right. Yes. Could you …?” Even with the zipper broken he managed to pull it down and Effie slipped out of it and into a more comfortable house dress faster than Katniss could say “cheese bun.” “Sorry ‘bout the outfit, princess”, was all he could think of to say. “Never meant to break it.” “You didn’t. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” She smoothed the skirt out pointlessly, like always when she was self-conscious. His junk was still out in the open. Her eyes flitted to it before they quickly returned to his face. He wanted to reach out and touch her hand. Tell her she didn’t have to feel awkward. Not with him. Instead he got to his feet, spaghetti-legged, and pulled the pants and underpants up. Holding her gaze he asked, “You OK, sweetheart?” Effie managed a smile. “N-not too bad. You?” He shrugged. “I’m alright. Just hot. This place’s a fucking oven.” Effie gave a nervous laugh. “Yes, I … I see what you mean. Oh, I sure hope the twins haven’t made a mess downstairs. I probably should have brought them up here with me. Right?” “Uh, yeah. Guess so.” “Yes, well.” She cleared her throat. “I best get down.” Haymitch nodded. “Be with you in a minute.” He hesitated. “Effs. Another thing.” “Yes?” “It was actually the reason why I came knocking in the first place. Can you hold down the fort this afternoon? If I went out for a couple of hours? Don’t know if you know it but Chaff’s got a godmother. She lives like twenty minutes from here and I … well, I wanna go see her.” The idea had been on the back of his mind ever since he came to Eleven. Before the Third Quarter Quell when he and Chaff said their final goodbyes to each other he promised his old friend that if he didn’t make it out of the arena alive Haymitch would help support Pearl financially after the war was won. If the war was won. She was the closest Chaff had to family and Haymitch made good on that promise even though he’d never actually met the old lady. Katniss – and Peeta too of course – wanted to do the same thing. For Rue’s and Tresh’s families just like they promised during the Victory Tour. District people never forgot a debt and Katniss brought it up with him herself after they returned to the ashes of Twelve. Peeta had been back for just a couple of days and he, Haymitch, had hoped to keep the news from them a little while longer. But when the girl flat out asked, he could not lie to her. He didn’t even have to say it. His silence did. And the look in her eyes when she realized they were gone. Fuck. Weren’t enough bottles in Panem to drown that image. ”I reckoned I’ll pay her a visit. Make sure she doesn’t want for anything.” Effie nodded. “Take all the time you need. I’ll look after the children.” An unexpected smile brightened her face. “This is good, Haymitch. It’s good.” xXx Haymitch never did say when he might return and he declined Annabel’s offer to drive him. “Chaff’s told me the way like a dozen times already.” To the very last Effie hoped he’d be back in time to help her put the children to bed but three hours later Haymitch was still out. “There now, sweetlings. I know you’re tired. I know.” Effie wandered the room with the wailing twins in her arms. Back and forth, back and forth. They’d been fussy all afternoon. Ian too. On a regular day, the boy had no trouble falling asleep on his own. Most of the times at least. You put him in the crib and as long as he had his pacifier he usually drifted off pretty quickly, snuggled up to his favorite stuffed animal. But tonight, he just wouldn’t lie down. Not for long. And Amy’s cries were so loud they could be heard clear across the district. If she got her way she would take all her naps in Haymitch’s arms. Most nights their little girl wouldn’t even fall asleep unless he held her. A realization that got painfully clear once they arrived in District 11 without him. This past week she got re-used to her father putting her down so now she pulled herself up after just a couple of minutes, every time, holding on to the edges of the travel crib, voicing her discontent in the loudest fashion and waking her brother up if he wasn’t already. June and Annabel offered to take one of them but they were already such a great help during the day. They shouldn’t have to take care of the children all night as well. Effie dropped a kiss to the twins’ tear-drenched cheeks. “You miss your dada, don’t you?” she murmured. “I know. Me too. But he had things to do, you see. Important things. He’ll be back. Don’t worry.” Rocking them, she burrowed into their little bodies, seeking as much comfort in her babies, as her babies did her. Holding them in her arms, her eyes flitted back to the bed. For the fifth, tenth or hundredth time. Haymitch changed the bed linen right after it happened and stuffed it in the washing machine himself. Good. It made the whole thing just a little less improper. But there was no getting rid of the memories. She needn’t close her eyes to remember the feel of Haymitch’s lips. How they claimed hers completely with a heat and intensity too powerful to resist. They really really shouldn’t have put themselves in that situation. She could’ve kicked herself. After everything they’d been through how could they still be so willing to risk so much for just a few moments of selfish pleasure? That particular part haunted her more than all of the rest combined – how good, how impossibly good it felt, being reckless. To just let go of the reins and surrender to the roar of her own body. She lost control. She never lost control! Why would she tell him she didn’t care if he got her pregnant when she most definitely did? Thank God Ian cried! If he hadn’t, things would have escalated completely out of hand and it was exactly the kind of behavior they couldn’t afford. Especially now. They already played with fire once. Years later, it was still something she had a hard time thinking about. Those long hours on the train, worrying she might be pregnant or would be by the time she reached the Capitol. It was awful. Just awful! She could hardly teach at the Academy that day, having not slept for more than a minute or two, just hoping and praying all night that conception would not happen before she got her hands on a morning after pill. And then the enormous relief that she dodged the bullet. Never again, she promised herself. And still! In that moment of weakness, every sane thought connected to her real wishes and wants was wiped from her mind and God, she felt alive! Alive and free. Like stepping out of a prison cell for the first time in years. Every heartache, every disappointment, every failure and all that pain just melted away like a brook in spring. It made absolutely no sense. Feeling that safe and protected in Haymitch’s arms when she was anything but. Starved for human closeness and already struggling with the lack of drink there was no way Haymitch would have been able to pull out in time. How many thrusts before he found release inside her? Three? Four? Given her own actions she might even have held his hips when that moment came, begging him to stay in. So stupid. Haymitch is right. I am a fool! A selfish, careless idiot and if we keep this up we’re going to get ourselves in trouble again. She had to keep reminding herself that they never actually did it. Close but no cigar and thank goodness for that! Their life was complicated enough without worrying about another baby possibly on the way. They were lonely, that’s all. Both of them. Any other feelings she might still have for him just came from the simple fact that he was the father of her children. She would always care for him deeply. That was just part of the deal. How could she not when she saw him looking out through Amy and Ian’s eyes every day? Maybe it would be better, for all of them – the twins too – if Haymitch just found someone. The other way around was unthinkable. She couldn’t ever see herself with anyone else. Who? Someone in the Capitol? Forget it! And Haymitch, he’d get crazy jealous having to share the twins with another man. It just wasn’t worth it – the added stress it would inflict on the whole family. But Haymitch. As warm and sweet and handsome as he was, he could find someone to love. Someone who would make him happy. Hazelle, for instance. They were already such good friends, taking that next step would be easy? Right? He would move in with her and they’d live out their days in her little cottage. Cooking together, sleeping in the same bed, sitting in a pair of rockers when they were old and gray, watching the sun go down. Not until the twins squirmed against her did she realize how tightly she clung to them, the pain in her chest so excruciating it choked her. Hazelle was wonderful. She’d be so good for him and Amy and Ian couldn’t ask for a better stepmom. So why then did it feel like dying just picturing Haymitch in her arms? I’m a horrible woman. I don’t want him but no one else can have him? Headlights sailed across the room, putting an end to her depressing thoughts. The car engine rumbled over Amy and Ian’s sobs. Chaff’s godmother or one of the other neighbors must have given him a ride back. That or he rode his thumb. Good. She didn’t want him to wander off in a vast place like District 11. She drew a trembling breath and forced a smile. “See? Dada’s home.” Should they talk about what happened? Knowing Haymitch, he would probably pretend like it rained. A prospect that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. What’s there to talk about? It’s not like we’re becoming boyfriend-girlfriend again. That’s definitely out of the question! But she had no sooner thought it before an image flooded her mind. A fantasy so sweet, so tangible it made her head swim. Haymitch coming through that door, greeting her with a kiss and a smile before he took one of the twins out of her tired arms. The handle creaked and her heart fluttered in her chest. So much like their first butterfly kiss on New Year’s a lifetime ago. The door swung open. And the smile faltered from Effie’s lips. “’ey, sweetheart. Heard cryin’. Came to help.” She stared at the man in the doorway. His open mouth. His dull eyes struggling to focus, as though they were looking through her rather than at her. The potent cocktail of whiskey and cigarette smoke clung to him like a second skin. A stench so revolting she backed away. “Wus the matter?” The words were barely coherent. He dragged his feet inside, his steps meticulous yet so unsteady. “Yeah, I … uh … had a couple o’ drinks. This guy … Chaff’s buddy. He said we … fuck, they’re loud, Eff.” His gaze dropped to the twins, wailing in Effie’s arms. He peered between their shiny eyes, their red faces, as if trying to make sense of it. “’ere. Lemme take her.” His outstretched arms were what finally snapped her out of it. “Out!” Haymitch stopped in the middle of a step. Confusion creased his brow. “She’s cryin’, sweetheart.” “Get out, Haymitch!” “I just wanna give ‘er a cuddle. I can’t give my own kids a cuddle?” “No, you can’t!” “What’s going on in here?” “Annabel!” Effie gasped, seeing her friends at the door. “June! Please, can you take them? Just for a moment.” The two women brushed past Haymitch without a second look. Ian soon found himself in his auntie June’s arms but when Effie tried to pass Amy over to Annabel, the little girl clutched her mother’s clothes, wailing at the top of her lungs. “It’s OK. It’s OK, baby girl.” Effie held her daughter’s fists, kissing them, trying to make her let go. “It’s just for a little while. Mama will be back in a moment. It’s OK.” “I’m sorry, Effs. I’m sorry,” Haymitch slurred on the way through the corridor. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m really sorry.” “I don’t want to hear it!” she finally snapped. She pulled him into his room where he dropped more than sat on the bed. “Didn’t mean to. Honest. We just … it was for Chaff.” He looked up at Effie, helpless eyes begging her to understand. “We wanted to … I just wanted to … Oh, God, Effs, I’m sorry!” “No, sit up straight!” She steadied him, keeping him from reeling forward. “Focus, Haymitch!” His shoes were still on. She crouched before him, unlacing them. Down the corridor, the children’s cries pierced through the silence. Their calls for her made her butter-fingered. Haymitch just watched, shoulders sagging in defeat. “You’re so good to me, sweetheart.” He sniffed, nose suddenly congested. “I don’t deserve it.” “You can say that again,” Effie muttered through gritted teeth. She pulled the shoes off and set them by the nightstand. When she rose Haymitch caught her hands, holding them in his. “No, I’m not staying here, Haymitch. It’s well past their bedtime.” Haymitch nodded, eyes downcast. “I know.” He patted her hand like some precious, beloved pet. “You’re such a good soul, Eff. My … my angel and I didn’t even …” Before she knew it, he wrapped his arms around her midsection. Clinging to her, like a man to a life raft, he buried his face in her stomach. “Why did I leave you? Why did I do that?” His voice was thick from drink and grief. “You, the kids. You’re the only good thing I got going on in my life.“ “Haymitch, you’re smothering me.” She tried to ease his hold but he was too strong for her, even now. “I have to go. I have to get back to the children.” “Please, Eff.” He looked up at her, eyes shiny with tears through tresses of dirty blonde hair. “I know I’m fucked up. I know I let you down but … please, just … gimme another chance. I swear I’ll do it right this time and we’ll be happy. Real happy. You’ll see. Please, Effie.” His eyes hung on to hers as he clutched the sides of her dress. She opened her mouth but closed it again. Anguished, her head turned in the direction of those distressed calls in the other room. “I can’t do this.” Hands on his she tried to pry his fingers off her. “Amy and Ian need me!” “We belong together.” His voice broke. “I know it. Look me in the eyes and tell me we don’t belong together.” Reality blurred when the tears welled up. “Let me go, Haymitch. You have to let me go.”

[generalluxun]

Fanfiction: Reciprocation Chapter 7

Author's note: welcome to act 2! In which, Felix turns his attention from the magical to the mundane, and finds it no less taxing.

As usual link to the AO3 where it's also posted in the bio, full text after the break.

“Sweetings, you are brooding.” His mother’s voice was a gentle invitation.

Felix looked up from his book. In a change, he’d chosen to study out in the living room tonight. He hadn’t spent enough time thinking about the ramifications, he was experimenting. His mother was ever observant, he should have known better.

“I am studying, Mother.” he lied.

She came fully into the living room, away from the stool perch in the kitchen she normally occupied. Held between her fingers were the glossy pages of a magazine. “You’ve been at that page for the last ten minutes, Goldflower. You don’t take that long with anything.”

Verbal sparring with his mother was a losing battle. “It is simply an off day, am I not allowed to be tired, Mother?”

She sat on the couch by his chair, snugged up against the end closest to him and leaning on the armrest to be closer. “Eight at night, my Sol? If you are tired, then you are not sleeping well, and that too is cause for concern.”

Losing, perhaps already lost. Felix tried silence, it might work, if she was herself tired.

She was not. Amilie folded the magazine in her lap as she spoke in sing-song. “You’ve reclaimed the peacock. Your life is your own. You have your cousin’s ring. His life is in your hands; good hands I know. We are free from my parents. We are free from the past. You may pursue anything you wish, and I have more than enough money to back you wherever you go. Tell me then, my Tomorrow, what has put those lines in your brow?”

Defeated, twice over now, or he would not have lost this round. Felix closed the book on Enology and held it in his lap as his mother held her magazine. He opened his mouth to speak and no words came out. He closed it again. They shared a concerned look. He began a new -nothing.

His mother smiled gently. “Does it have to do with cologne?”

Felix looked away, then dropped his gaze to his lap. “It does, but also no, Mother. I remain my own, that has not changed.”

“But something has, and it troubles you. My brother in law did not trouble you in this way. I may not have birthed you, my Joy, but I am still your mother. I don’t know as many things as you, but the things I do know may surprise you still.”

She was right, she was right and Felix hated that she was right. In the fullness of time, with room to consider, he had hardened against his weakness. He could not strangle the voice though, now that it had awakened. He could bury it under logic and reason but the muffled whispers would not be silenced.

Felix thought maybe he could put her as off balance as he felt. “It’s the Bourgeois woman, Mother.”

"Audrey?" Amilie's voice rose in shock.

Felix shot his mother a look. "The other one."

"Oh." Amilie raised a hand to cover her mouth, "Oh!"

Felix could feel the smile she was hiding. "No, Mother."

She dropped her hand, the smile remained. "Of course, Light."

Felix looked back down, speaking his thoughts out loud to save himself future probings, "She seems to have dropped her obsession with my cousin, and has been… not unpleasant. She was integral to my plan to recover my autonomy. There is… a connection."

Amilié's voice was gentle. "Of course there is."

Felix shot her another sharp look. "Mother!"

Amilie spread her hands, they very statue of maternal innocence. "You will make connections in life, and now is the perfect time to begin. Think of how you would view it happening to someone else."

Felix did. Connections made one stronger, as long as they were properly managed, but that did not sit right. Felix threw another stone in the pond. "She is a human."

"Is that the worst of her faults?"

"You don't even like the Bourgeois."

"I don't have to."

Felix was on the back foot. He had one last defense. He fixed his mother with a level gaze. "This will not result in what you want."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. But for her earnest desire, I would not exist. That his mother pinned her own forsaken hope on a next generation was no secret. He saw his words hit home, wounding her in the most intimate of ways. She pressed her hands together, wearing a face she had worn many times for his father. "What I want is my son to be happy."

Felix looked down again, wounded too in his own haste. "I'm sorry to be a disappointment."

"Never!" She was off the couch and holding him before she finished the word. Felix endured it as a form of punishment. His mother drew back just enough to look down into his eyes. "Never, my Son. You could never disappoint me. Understand?"

Her tone brooked no argument. "Yes, Mother."

She let him go and relief poured in. Amilie stooped to pick up her magazine. "Even with our worlds so far apart, I can offer you this much at least: experiment. Your world will grow, and rapidly now. You will not be in two years who you are now. Nor the same two more after that. Some parts will be constant, I have no doubt, but do not look solely to your past to face your future."

She turned back to him, curling the magazine in her hands. Those soft eyes turned sharp and Felix knew at this moment she was being mother and not mommie.

"Be free, Felix. Do not submit to what anyone expects of you, not even yourself."

Free. The peacock pricked under his vest where Felix had pinned it. "Yes, Mother."

-----------

Felix: I hope you are well.

Chloé: pfftt! 🤣🤣🤣🙄

Felix:What on earth?

Chloé: That was so corny! Okay okay, let me answer you: I. Am. Fine. beepboop

Felix: Insufferable woman! I spent time on that!

Felix had enough time to glower at his phone, wonder where her response was, and feel cheated. He set his phone down and mentally switched gears. He had a full course assessment coming up in one of his Pre-Law classes. His phone buzzed not five minutes into the review, but Felix purposefully and pointedly ignored it for the other twenty five. Sadly he finished the review realizing he had retained almost nothing from those twenty five.

Chloé: ugh. you really did, didn’t you? Alright, sorry, I’m fine. It’s boring here lately. Almost no Hawkmoth attacks in the last week.

Felix was gobsmacked.

Felix:Excuse me, what was that you said?

Chloé:What? No Hawkmoth? Is that wrong? He can’t still be Shadowmoth now, right?

Felix:Not that triviality. I do believe I have on record the first physical proof of Chloé Bourgeois saying she is sorry.

Chloé: Oh just leave it alone! God, it’s hard enough to type to some British guy hundreds of kilometers away when he’s not being an ass about it. If you make it a thing I won’t do it again!

Felix chuckled to himself.

Felix:Then, my apologies too. I acknowledge your effort. Boring sounds like it may be a blessing in this case. You can focus on your schoolwork and extracurriculars without Hawkmoth’s interference. 

It was another few minutes before an answer came, just long enough for Felix to dwell and wonder. He did not like the experience.

Chloé: I had to look up like two of those words. Why can’t you talk normal? Why would I want to focus on schoolwork? It’s going to be enough of a problem as it is. Sabrina’s gone, so no one is doing my work. I might be able to get Lila to do it, but she’s not around that often. If this keeps up we’ll have to hire someone!

She wasn’t making sense….

Felix: Hire someone? You mean a tutor? What subjects are you feeling behind on?

This was something Felix’s talents were well suited towards. That he might be able to help caused a strange ticklish warmth to flicker within.

Chloé:Tutor? I already have a teacher who talks at me for hours a day, why would I want another one? I meant someone to do the work my teacher assigns! There’s so much of it.

Felix: Group education does place an emphasis on repetition and regurgitation. Still, you should be able to manage it on your own, you haven’t entered anything truly challenging yet.

More minutes passed. Felix reread his text and words popped out at him as troublesome. He could just imagine Chloé’s face screwed up in concentration while she typed out the words in an online dictionary. It made the time pass faster.

Chloé: Whatever, smartypants. I’m sure I could do it if I wanted to, but I don’t! I shouldn’t have to. I’m rich! Poor people work!

There were many angles of attack to such a statement. He tried her main weak point: Ego.

Felix: Look at it as a chance to prove how much better you are. I’ve found it quite satisfying, myself.

Chloé: I shouldn’t have to prove anything! I’m rich! That’s proof enough.

Felix hummed, then blinked. He’d never emitted such an unguarded admission of indecision before.

Felix: I know plenty of very useless rich people. My uncle is rich and he’s the least of creatures to crawl upon this earth as far as I am concerned. Money doesn’t make you better. All it does is open opportunities for you to improve and demonstrate your worth.

He frowned, hesitated, then hit send. Something about this conversation was turning the warmth into unease. The images of the person he held in his head and the person who he was texting were diverging.

Chloé: Worth? Worth! Ridiculous! I’m worth more than all of them put together! I’ll show you I have worth, you stupid British gremlin! You’ll see!

That was… unexpected. Felix turned it over in his head and a very real fear struck him. Was she mad enough for the butterfly? Would she let herself be turned? He had an entire message written out before pausing then deleting it. Would asking if she was in trouble push her further?

He felt seconds ticking by as he considered new angles of attack. Was she sitting and stewing waiting on him? This form of communication left much to be desired. He tapped out a quick reply.

Felix: Chloé, you are not required to prove anything to me in particular.

More waiting, anticipation turning to dread.

Chloé: Apparently I am! And if stupid schoolwork is all you care about then I'll workschool it better than even nerdy Max! Now excuse me I need to go fix my makeup and then waste a bunch of time on an idiot!

It was as if she was speaking some peculiar dialect Felix couldn’t piece together. He itched to reply, but the phrase ‘now excuse me’ seemed to indicate she was done with the conversation. He let it go, it was past time for his workout in any event.

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

Today was plyometrics and cardio. The first portion went well. He was keenly focused on pushing his body to the limit. His drive had increased rather than ebbing in the wake of securing his freedom. One minor inconvenience: he had not yet found a comfortable way to wear the brooch on his person in exercise clothing. The little voice unhelpfully supplied, She probably knows jewelry, all about it. You could ask.

From that point on he was stuck, ruined for focus. At the end of every set his thoughts drifted to wondering when the next trip to Paris might be, seeking some excuse to make it sooner rather than later. By the time he was pulling himself from the complex’s indoor pool at the end of his cardio, his mind had betrayed him to the point there was some hallucinatory glee bubbling in his veins. I can just pop over tonight-

Reality asserted itself. No, he couldn’t. He didn’t have a reason to. Even if he did, she was in Paris. Even if she wasn’t, Why am I thinking about this?! Felix scrubbed his hair viciously with his towel then dropped it back on the pool chair, realizing as he did that his phone was vibrating under his robe.

Felix pulled it out and flipped it over just as it tripped over a missed call; 37 missed calls, all from her. He was already making his way into contacts when his phone lit up again. He stabbed pick up with his heart inexplicably in his throat.

“Hello?”

“H-H-hic-how do I do-do ma-aath?” She was sobbing.

Extreme annoyance bloomed, then thankfully, a self-correction. Felix answered in a neutral tone. “What?”

“Hic- Math! Stupid pointless, ugly, ridiculous math! s-s-sa-Sabrina always did it. It can’t be that hard, but it’s not working!”

Felix’s heart was still settling, and not from the workout. He picked up his towel and robe in one hand, exiting the pool area while still dripping. “Calm down. What math? What are you trying to do?”

“Math! What kinds are there? It’s numbers, and none of it makes sense! I’m smart, I should be able to do math! Don’t laugh at me!”

Felix hadn’t laughed, he hadn’t even thought to laugh, but her words were slurring together and flowing freely. The familiar layer of discomfort at such a display laid on him like a blanket, but this time nestled within was a nugget of a different sort. She was in pain, and he would do something.

“Chloé, calm down. I’m moving as quickly as I can.” Felix jabbed the elevator call, but seeing it on the eighth floor he pushed into the stairs and began the ascent on already burning legs.

The echoes of his feet must have carried over the phone. “Felix? Where are you? What’s going on?” At least it snapped her out of her frenzy.

“I’m moving somewhere more productive. Aquamathematics is not a field I expect to take off.” The explanation cost him a burning in his chest.

“Felix! Now is not the time for big words!” her voice was still thick, but at least it ended with a singular laugh.

"Hold on, Chloé, I'm coming."

It was ten more flights to the penthouse. There was a real possibility he would have made it faster if he had waited for the elevator. If nothing else he would not have staggered breathless into his room. But for the first time Felix was subject to the very thing he had mocked in others as foolishness. The need to be doing something. Efficiency didn't matter -unthinkable- effort did.

"Video…call…my laptop…" he panted as he dropped into a chair. A quick wipe took renewed sweat off his hands, face, and forearms before he booted it up.

The video call icon lit up almost immediately. Chloé's face started equal parts confused and pained, but rapidly morphed into surprise, followed by forced and obvious neutrality. "What is going on, Felix?"

Felix slowed his breathing, rested his elbows on his desk, and folded his hands. He set his chin atop them and said calmly. “Show me your problem.”

Chloé cycled between elation, hesitation, and renewed hope. She lifted a worksheet and turned it to face him, pointing at the problem, “It’s so stupid! They misspelled Cousin. What’s this seven doing down here? This isn’t even a number or a letter, and if the whole thing equals 3 what am I supposed to do? It’s already done!”

Felix squinted at the equation through the videofeed. “It’s a Trigonometry problem.”

Chloé flopped back in her seat. “You mean Ms. Bustier gave me the wrong work? It’s supposed to be math.”

“Chloé, it is math.”

She looked between him and the paper, something akin to fear creeping across her face. “What- no. Math doesn’t look like this. The other things didn’t look like this. See?” She jabbed another problem with a finger.

This time Felix took a moment to absorb. What was obvious was clearly not all there was. The sheet was effectively, if simply, laid out. Each problem fed into some part of the next. Felix’s eyes tracked upwards. “Chloé, number two, what are you doing there?”

She turned the sheet back to look at it. Then spoke in the sort of perfect enunciation people have when they are both very certain and worried they are suddenly very wrong. “It’s multiplying, Felix. That’s eleven times seven.”

She’d written out 11+11, added it, then 22+11, and repeat. Suspicion began to take root. Felix scanned some of her other -wrong- work. He grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled a quick basic equation. “Here, can you do this?”

She frowned at the paper. “That’s a fraction, Felix. Twenty Fourths.”

“Right, can you simplify it?”

“It’s one fraction. How much simpler can it be?”

“Chloé, you divide it out. Divide twenty by 4. You can do that, right?”

Chloé snatched her own sheet back to her chest. “Of course I can!” She turned and began scribbling on the back of the paper.

Felix could hear her penstrokes. He knew when it had begun to take far too long, even for showing work. She worked diligently though and when she turned the paper back to him she announced proudly, “Five!”

On the paper was the real story though. She had written it out:

4+4=8 II

8+4=12 I

12+4=16 |

16+4=20 |

IIIII 5

She wasn’t wrong, but… “Chloé- how- that’s how you learned to do division?”

She wilted under his disbelief. “Why was I ever going to need division anyway? Who wants to have less of something?”

Disbelief crumbled in the face of evidence. “Chloé, how long was Sabrina doing your homework?”

She wilted further, turning the page back to herself. “It’s right… it’s right, isn’t it? I did it right!” her voice rose to a panic. “I’m not stupid!”

Felix dropped his head into one hand. “The term is uneducated, and apparently so. Although a deficiency this egregious being overlooked is clearly not entirely your own fault. It is a failure on a shocking number of levels.”

“I did it!” her voice rose in sudden shriek. Felix heard the sound of paper tearing. “I did your stupid homework, and all you do is make fun of me with big words. If you want to call me stupid you should just say it! I can’t believe- I should have known better with your stupid Adrien game all the time!”

Felix looked up just in time to see the camera’s view swirl and bounce crazily. “No wait, Chloé don’t!”

The scream that came from the speakers made him fear for the worst, but one last swirl of motion before the camera showed a brief arc of the ceiling then the image almost blacked out. Almost-but not quite. Felix could make out the edge of a keyboard, a red patterned comforter. Wedged up under her pillows…

Felix could make out faint sounds. Distant and with a lousy built-in microphone. He still had a hunch what they were. He didn’t like them, for more than one reason now.  Felix picked up his phone. His call was answered surprisingly fast, but only blubbering greeted him on the other end. He waited for it to abate.

When it failed to, he said simply, “You are not stupid.”

A powerful unladylike sniffle, some coughing, and more horrid sounds were his answer.

“You’re foolish, naive, gullible, short-tempered, ignorant, unreasonably cruel at times, and apparently uneducated, but you are not stupid.”

That got a bitter laugh, “Fuck you, Felix. You suck at this.”

He returned the laugh. “I do. You are also surprising, observant, and unexpectedly loyal.” He hesitated. The voice had words, but he hadn’t parsed them and they were… alarming.  He spoke them anyway. “There is likely more to that list. I haven’t had time to study those aspects much. I- would like to.”

“Really? I mean-” A large sniffle and her affected tone returned, “Of course you would, after all I-” A sigh and it dropped, “No, I can’t do it right now. I- Really?”

“Apparently.”

The picture on his laptop shifted and spun again, opening up into a messy-faced Chloé, “You really suck at this.”

Felix hung up his phone and addressed the screen. “Let us be clear, I am not even sure what this is. My personal tastes…”

“Yeah, I know. I figured that part out, didn’t I?” She was still wiping at her makeup with her hands, not improving matters. “A girl can dream though, can’t she?”

There was too much built up. Felix had been running through the conversation without his usual buffer for emotions. He needed to unpack and analyze. He tried shifting to a different topic. “I could help you with your studies. I will not do your work, but I can organize some kind of a lesson plan you have clearly lacked.”

Chloé flopped on her bed on screen. A muffled, “Oh, so dreamy,” came back to him.

“Do you want my help or not?”

She raised up on her elbows and stared at him through the screen for a long moment, then looked back down at her comforter. “I’ll get sick of it and stop if I have to do it on my own.”

“Then I will see to it. I’ll have to come back to ask you more about what you have and haven’t actually learned. It will… probably not be pleasant for you.”

Her voice was desperately small when she asked, “Let me take you to dinner?”

A thousand warning bells went off. He tried to placate them. “Nothing… cozy.”

“It’s a deal.”

Felix felt like he had just made it through the narrows under the mansion for the first time, all over again. He sat back, glad her eyes were not on the screen. “Until then. I suppose we could start with multiplication and division.”

Her head came up fast. “Start with?”

“Memorization. Let’s see what you can do without paper and work from there. This is an assessment, not a test. We are here to stretch your mind. You take Ballet. Stretch your body at the same time if you like, combining mental and physical stimulation can aid in retention.”

She flopped back down again, but pulled herself up. “I’m going to hate this.”

“Probably.”

“If I’m going to stretch, can I use my phone?”

“Of course.”

The next two hours passed… uniquely. Running someone his age through basic math exercises was never something Felix expected to do. Chloé was dismal, there was no denying that. She was easily distracted, woefully unpracticed, and he could sense the simmering urge to shout her way through it all lurking just beneath the surface.

Somehow, that last observation took on a different meaning as time wore on.

She got better, slightly. Feiix caught her cheating when he shifted to things she couldn’t use her fingers to count on, but he didn’t bother to expose the subterfuge. He moved around his room, waved off his mother’s curious inquiry from his door, and ended up laying on his bed until a glance at the time reminded him just how long this had gone on.

“I need to be going.”

Chloé let out a small grunt of effort then a sigh of relaxation. “Good, I was running out of stretches.”

There was a curious hindbrain response to that statement. Something else for him to sort through. “You kept going longer than I expected.”

“Maybe I just never had a good teacher before.”

“I would not doubt that, but thank you.”

“So… mind turning the camera on for a minute before you go?”

Confusion was answered with ‘Seems harmless’ by the voice. Felix turned on the video call feature and held the phone at arm’s length while he lay on his back.

Chloé’s face appeared. She leaned in close to the camera, one large blue eye filling his screen. “I thought so.”

“Thought so?”

“Just a little reward to myself for being good.”

Felix raised a brow. “What are you talking about, woman?”

She held her phone further back and raised a hand to circle a finger at him. “Nothing, nothing, just… wear something different to dinner, okay? Good night Felix!”

With that the call ended, and Felix looked down at himself. Oh of all the-

He was still wearing only his swimming trunks from the pool.

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – I Do… No Seriously, Forever I Do!!!

Some girls grow up dreaming about their wedding day. The white dress, the perfect groom, the Coming to America rose pedal walk way. “She’s Your Queen To Beeeee”… yeah, I am not some girls. Not that I don’t like cute dresses, handsome men and beautiful flowers.  It’s just I kinda never thought I’d get married (don’t worry neither did my mother).  While other girls made wedding collages and fantasized about their perfect day, I cringed on the inside and faked it on the outside. Yes, yes, I cannot wait to be stuffed into an oversize Cinderella dress, with a 10-foot train and a 20 lb. veil for 5 to 10 excruciating hours while my feet throb and my face hurt from flashing a 32 teeth megawatt grimace… I mean smile.  Definitely sounds like a dream, hosted by Freddy Krueger.  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t cynical because I didn’t think I was marriage material.  I absolutely am. Actually, I’m the finest, most exquisite… the Vicuña of marriage material. It’s just I didn’t really see the point.  Well… that’s not true. I did understand the importance of having one sole emergency contact and not rotating it amongst your three best girlfriends depending on who’s in town. I also understood the possibility of dying alone in one’s home only to have your corpse eaten away by your 12 disloyal cats. No, the reason I never thought I’d get married is because I didn’t make marriage a priority.  When I visualized my life, marriage just didn’t matter.  Of course, I dated and even thought I was in love a time or ten, but I could never see me with that person long term. I was emotionally nearsighted. Actually, I might have been legally blind.  Well, that was until 2020.  When the world was on lockdown and people were fighting in their local Walmart over toilet paper, I was at home snugging with my doggie and wine, ready to ride out the wave of the pandemic.  But as the weeks passed, my wine ran low (kidding it never ran low) and the waves continued, it was actually a check-in call from my 70-year-old dentist that changed my perspective.  One evening, this kind man took a break from a family game of Scrabble to give me a call.  While laughing with his loved ones he grew concerned because he knew I was somewhere alone and single (and probably drunk).  At first, I thought, “Aweee that’s so sweet,” but then instantly I became troubled. As a single woman I could never clear the dinner dishes and enjoy a friendly game of Scrabble with my family.  Mainly because my family consisted of one small dog, but mostly because I’m a horrendous speller (yes Google helped me with that word) and my dog refused to play with me.  It was at that very point, Future (Current) Boyfriend, I knew it was time to find you. 

So how does one find their soulmate or at least someone to go enough of the distance with to qualify for a tax break?  Not sure, but at that point I knew it was time to try.  If the world was coming to an end, I decided I wanted mine to end with a special someone.  Finally, it was time to take dating seriously.  So, I did what any serious dater would do… I updated my Bumble profile.  It had been a while since I’d last been on the site so I needed to refresh my pictures and suspend my disbelief that only unemployed mactors (model/actor – both words used loosely) looking for a part-time relationship and a full-time crash pad, were the only men left on the site.  It was time to get back into the depressing dating cesspool pool of La La Land.  With an open mind and very low expectations I began swiping and to my surprise it took less than a week for me to be sitting across from you, Future (Current) Boyfriend.  Maybe it was your smile (when you dropped your mask), or your laugh, or the way you looked at me, or looked out for me, or perhaps it was your Midwestern roots and the way you stood up when I stood up, or that you asked about my wants, or shared your intentions, or when you suggested I try the bread, or when you ordered me another glass of wine (which is my love language btw), or when you walked closest to the street so I didn’t get mowed down by a truck or a car or a drunk kid cruising the PCH on a scooter, or maybe it was the conversation we shared overlooking the ocean, or the call to your aunt to tell her about me, or when you took my hand and said, “you have old lady hands” and then I laughed and you laughed and we laughed until the sun went down and the moon came up...  Actually, I’m not sure when or why or how and honestly, I don’t care because what I do know is that somewhere in that epic 6-hour first date, despite a pandemic and freezing weather (thank you global warming), I decided I didn’t want this to end.  And thankfully neither did you.  So we kept dating… and dating… and dating until we were both madly in love. And for the first time in my life I thought, “I want to get married.”  Well no, actually that’s not true. What I really thought was, “I want to get married to THIS man!”

We were together less than a year in when you, Future (Current) Boyfriend suggested we take a trip to Hawaii for my birthday.  Despite only a few months of dating, I just KNEW you were going to propose.  According to LA standards, 3 months is equivalent to a decade in relationships. People marry divorce and remarry in less time than our courtship, and I was growing impatient. You have to understand, after writing well over 100 SOS messages to My Future Boyfriend, I’d finally found him. I knew this was the real deal and I was ready for us to begin our happily ever after together. Before leaving, I’d spend weeks shopping online. I wanted The Perfect Outfit to go with My Perfect Proposal from My Perfect Boyfriend.  And as expected, you did not disappoint. After a spa day filled with pampering, you whisked me away to the most luxurious hotel, with an ocean view and tiny mints on our pillows. As we stood on the balcony to enjoy yet another sunset my heart quickened, “Omg it this is just like our first date. He’s gonna pop the question right here.  Damn, I really should have moisturized these old lady hands…” Instead, you cut my fantasy short, reminding me we had dinner reservations in 30 mins.  No worries, I’d been preparing for this moment for months. Faster than a Beyoncé costume change on the Renaissance tour, I was ready to go. Fully glammed in 5-inch heels, with a white summer dress, sporting a subtle (not subtle) train, I hopped in an Uber with My Perfect Boyfriend and headed to a Perfect Dinner for My Perfect Proposal.  But there was no proposal at dinner. Actually, there was no proposal that night at all. The food at that 5-star restaurant was so horrible a homeless man turned his nose up at it. Our after dinner stroll was abruptly interrupted by a downpour of humid island rain. And my beautiful white summer dress was quickly tied into a knot (by prince charming himself) to keep the subtle (not so subtle) train from dragging down the muddy streets. As I sat in a plastic chair replacing my 5-inch impractical heels for hot pink plastic sandals the vision of my Perfect Proposal began melting away, alongside my eyelash glue.  Did I make this all up?  You suggested a simple birthday trip and here I transformed it into some Hallmark proposal.  And now I was left soggy and disappointed with no ring or fiancé.  But you know what I love about you Future (Current) Boyfriend?  It’s that you are your own man. You sniffed me out way before the dinner and decided if you were going to propose to me, but it would be on your terms. And that’s exactly what you did.  A couple days later with no fancy, horrible dinner, no heels or trains, no eyelashes or gimmicks, we took a hike to a waterfall. We held hands and laughed, we picked flowers and shared a lunch, you made fun of my old knees and my inability to swim, and then you asked if I would be your forever best friend… and just like that first date I fell in love with you all over again.  So Future Boyfriend, Current Boyfriend, Fiancé, Husband, Forever Best Friend thank you for FINALLY showing up and allowing me to close this chapter. But more importantly, thank you for the new one that I get to begin with you.

xo,

Mix

[the-new-hip-priest]

Go to your local charity/thrift/op shop! Even if you live in bumfuck nowhere, I promise you'll be surprised at what you can find. I have two favourite jackets that I'm often complimented on, and I got both of them from a little store ten minutes down the road. $15AUD for a proper leather biker jacket! One on them has a Bauhaus backpatch that I made by cutting up a 13 year old shirt, the other has a Milhaus backpatch that I knocked up myself on Paint. A lot of sp00py bands have fairly straightforward logos, too. Look them up on google images, convert the picture to black and white, and bam! You've got your own stencils. Print 'em off and go to town with a scalpel/stanley knife/cutter. If you fuck it up the first time, so what? Have another go. Hell, buy a plain black t-shirt from the op-shop and use it as dedicated patch material. I promise you don't need some inherent artistic skills, just go slow and enjoy it. And don't feel bad for doing the Cross and Cross-Bones Christian Death logo, it's a good start for when you're learning! In Australia, we also have stores we call 'two dollar shops'. This isn't to be taken as literally as Poundland for example (in so much as the items don't actually all cost two dollars, but I digress). These shops almost always have one fancy dress/costume aisle that has fishnets in every colour you can imagine. Grab some in your favourite colour, hack them with scissors, and safety-pin it to your sleeves. I'm pretty sure Killstar sells a piece that is literally just a t-shirt with two slashes through it, held together with safety pins. You could pay $40+ for that shirt, or grab a second-hand one and a packet of safety pins for about $7. Get some white-out or acrylic paint and get creative with spider webs and bats. You can bulk buy hundreds of studs from sites like ebay, and if you're working with leather, you can pick up an awl from your local hardware store for a few bucks. You don't to cough up for a stud press. Also, one of the best aspects is that it's your clothes. If you love Parálisis Permanente as well as Pusheen, go for it. Stick that little kitty somewhere! When I wanted some summer-appropriate shoes, I bought a cheap pair of sandals from K-Mart and a packet of toy spiders (alongside the studs I had left over from buying in bulk). I brought them home, got out the glue gun, and now I have cool, spikey, spidery sandals. I could've bought something similar from Dangerfield for about $70, but what's the point? They would've been the same basic quality as the sandals, and I can reattach anything that might fall off without the horrendous guilt that comes from knowing you paid good money for a poor-quality product. Wanna look like a horned demon/ess? All you need is a generic headband, a couple of toilet rolls/cardboard tubes, duct tape, acrylic paint, and hot glue - significantly cheaper than a $35 premade headband. Grab some black roses from a craft shop, if you're feeling fancy. I also strongly believe in donation karma. Is that The Cure shirt getting a bit too snug around the shoulders? Donate it. I promise the next time you come back to the store, you'll find something gorgeous exactly in your size. OP also acknowledged disability in regards to DIY. If you have a mate that finds it difficult to work with their hands, make them some patches! In the same vein, I have a friend who cannot move her lower body but is incredibly crafty and nimble with her hands. She's done some commission cross-stich for me in the past. Consider your options and support your local scene!

Actually I'll never forgive Punk Rave and Killstar and fast fashion brands for tricking people into thinking that being goth or punk or emo is expensive. Babygirl the only goth brand names you need to know are Rit, Good Will, Etsy, and Studs and Spikes, we used to shove safety pins through our ears and then they started selling earrings that look like safety pins for 15.99. We used to dye thrifted wedding dresses black and they started selling gothic gowns for 300 bucks. We used to put studs on boots we found in the back of the good will and they started making Demonias. DIY or die wasn't perfect it can be exclusionary to disabled people but whatever the fuck we've got going on right now is so much worse. It's not any more inclusive to the disabled and it is exclusionary to the people who made punk, to the people who made goth, to the people who made emo. If you've got the funds and you don't want to do diy pay someone else to do it for you but please let it be a small artist or a friend not some guy in a suit who's made it his business to gentrify punk. You can turn flats into platforms with flipflops, hotglue and gumption don't let anyone tell you different.

[poeticmindsemporium]

The Coat in the Corner

On a long, narrow road that lead out of town

There stands and old public house, the old Rose and Crown

Used by many for many a year

For the genial conversation the Whisky and Beer

Old Mavis the barmaid now long past her best

Still has a great smile and rapport with each guest

Jim Inchcliff, the Landlord has seen them all come and go

Those who for years had struggled through the deep winter Snow

Just to partake a Real Ale and an old stale Pork Pie

That seemed to have been on the bar for many a blink of an eye

Old Rover, Jim’s dog, must be twenty years old or more

Who hardy ever moved seemed stuck to the floor

The old sign creaked when the strong wind did blow

What with that and the noise from the resident Black Crow

Who lived in the eaves and had nested there for years

And had seen all the comes and goings, the laughter and tears

But the strangest situation that no one could fathom out

Was in the old Snug Bar, amongst the Brown Ale and Stout

For over in the corner was an old khaki army coat

That belonged to old Barney the right reverend Stoat

Who had been Vicar of the Parish for over year’s five score and ten

Who disappeared suddenly one dark stormy night?

In the wind and the hail that gave everyone a fright

Such was its ferocity with trees falling down

Making it impossible to drive cars in or out of town

The rain was lashing, river swelled up, broke its banks

Flowing freely like water escaping from tanks

Causing a local mine to capsize underground trapping men deep below

Were they alive or dead, it was hard to know

Rescue teams worked all through the night and next day

Saving many as they could, though a few perished away

Now old Barney may have been the town vicar but unbeknown to all

Was in fact a war hero in both wars you know a man who stood tall

No stranger to danger so rushed to the Miners aid

To offer what assistance he could while the wives wept and prayed

No one realized that he had gone down with the rescue teams

As the water rushed in bringing down the large heavy beams

That propped up the pit face, to keep them safe from harm

But now was disintegrating causing great alarm

However, the rescue was completed and thankfully everyone survived

Or so everyone thought until they realized one had died

The poor vicar had given his life to help those in need

And no one ever forgot the Reverends brave deed

That is why the old coat hangs in pride of place

Over in the corner by the big fireplace

Nobody has wanted to remove it as a mark of respect for one who died

Trying to save others whose name was always talked about with pride

So if you travel to Old Romney a town of note

Always remember, never to remove that old coat

From that bar where it’s been for many a year

For it’s a sign to others of what unselfish, real heroes are so just shed a tear

[sourav2004]

Wrap Yourself in Cozy Bliss: 10 Perfect Bathrobes for Women

Picture yourself arriving home after a long day of hustle and bustle just to slip into commodity comfortable and lavish. For numerous women, nothing beats the feeling of putting on a luxurious dressing gown to help them relax. It isn't just about convenience but rather indulgence and comfort. From smooth satin to soft velour, there’s a bathrobe for every woman. In this composition, we will bandy ten must-have options that are uniquely comfortable and swish.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Bathrobe

There are several effects one should bear in mind when shopping for an ideal mask

Type of material

The type of fabric that makes up the mask determines its texture and continuity. conclude for fabrics like cotton, silk, or bamboo which are soft and permeable hence offering ultimate comfort.

Comfortability

In designing bathrobes, comfort remains important. Make sure you elect blankets with soft textures and ample cuts that give maximum coziness.

Fashion

While making choices grounded on your fashion taste is important, don't neglect style entirely. Your personality should be reflected in the design of your mask irrespective of whether it's an elegant jumper style or indeed an ethereal coat one.

Top 10 Must-Have Bathrobes for Women

Rangoli Furnishings- The Ultimate Comfort Bathrobe The Rangoli Furnishings bathrobe is made from superior-quality accouterments for unmatched relaxation and substance. It is ideal for home lounging or just to mollycoddle yourself after a long day.

Luxurious Silk Robe by Silk & Satin Indulge yourself in style with a silk mask at Silk & Satin. The supple soft fabric falls impeccably on the body, giving a touch of class to your loungewear collection.

Plush Velour Robe by Cozy Couture Cozy Couture’s satiny soft plush velour mask is what you need to wrap yourself in. It makes your lazy weekend mornings or chilly gloamings worthwhile since it has a luxurious texture and snug design.

Featherlight Cotton Mask by Cloud Nine The featherlight cotton mask by Cloud Nine offers the wear and tear pall- such as comfort. This permeable and supple apparel will be veritably applicable to people living in warm places.

Elegant Satin Kimono by Rose Petals Rose Petals ’ elegant satin jumper says plenitude about you before you indeed say a word in person. Its intricate details and flattering figure make it an opulent addition to any wardrobe.

ethereal Coat mask by Snuggle Up At Snuggle Up, immerse yourself in this ethereal coat mask which provides all kinds of warmth that one can suppose of. It's perfect during cold downtime nights or when one wants to spend some lazy hours in his/ her house in the morning hours.

A Green Earth product, the Organic Bamboo Robe The organic bamboo mask by Green Earth is a comfortable and eco-friendly luxury that embraces sustainability.

Gym rudiments Classic Terry Cloth Robe Spa Rudiments’ classic terry cloth mask will bring the gym to your home. It's dateless and spongy; it’s perfect for drying up after raining or bathing.

Coastal Comfort Stylish Linen Robe Coastal Comfort’s swish linen mask adds complication to your collection of loungewear. This makes it permeable and elegant suitable for wear and tear around the time.

Alpine Retreat Warm hair Robe Alpine Retreat has designed a warm hair mask to keep you cozy during cold nights. This hair is made from high-quality hair that gives unmatched comfort and warmth. Benefits of Investing in a Quality Bathrobe

There are numerous benefits of investing in a quality bathrobe, ranging from increased relaxation and comfort to some bit of luxury in your everyday life. A lavish bathrobe doesn't only offer warmth but also adds a sense of coddling to one’s tone-care routine.

Conclusion In conclusion, no woman can be without luxurious bathrobes if she desires both style and comfort at the same time. Whether you like silk for its wimpiness, coat because it’s warm, or cotton as it breathes well, there's an ideal mask that will wrap you sumptuously outside.

Source:- Bathrobes For Every Woman

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 440, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, blood, violence, death, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, neonatal death

WORDS: 1187

“Daddy…?” I mewled out as I woke up the next morning, a hint of the sunrise hinting at the mountains in the just beyond. I wriggled on his dick, plugging his manly spunk deep inside my motherly womb before settled back into his chest, folding my fingers into the thick weft of silver gray curls that grew on his chest. “Good morning.” I kissed his cheek, giggling as he wrapped his arms around me, snugging me in deeper to his body as the electric fireplace blared out warm heat.

“Good morning, blueberry of my heart,” he mumbled as he slowly work up. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“I did, yes daddy,” I told him. “Today is our last day in Iceland.”

“Today is our last day in Iceland,” he confirmed, splaying his hand over my angel wings tattoo on my back. “Our flight back to New York leave at seven tonight, so we need to be at the airport and going through TSA by no later than four thirty, so we have about, what time is it now?” He twisted around to glance at the clock on his bedside table. “It’s currently about five thirty, so we have about ten minutes to fuck and put a baby into your tummy before we need to get packed up, okay?”

“That does sound like a plan, my love!” I giggled as I clambered onto his lap, where I began to ride him, gasping and moaning as he gripped at my hip, leaving tiny fingerprint sized bruises on my befreckled skin.

He touched my right hip, where the words “Once Upon a Time…” were written in fancy calligraphy. He then switched over to the other side, where his spider tattoo rested. His eyes darted up to the right side of my collarbone, where the words “I’m Not an Angel…” were written. Next, he picked up my left wrist and admired the charm bracelet that was tattooed onto my skin with charms such as Rapunzel’s lantern, Eeyore’s tail, Dumbo’s feather, Tinker Bell’s wings, the enchanted rose, Snow White’s poisoned apple and Cinderella’s glass slipper were inked dangling from the bracelet. He glanced up at my arm and ran his finger across the watercolored Rapunzel on my bicep, smiling as he compared the inking to his own soulmark. His eyes darted up to my soulmark of a heavy masculine bald eagle on my right arm and a panther on my left. Peter’s eyes darted down to my thighs, where he carefully fingered the mermaid scales on the right side. He then looked to my right arm, where there was a mermaid tattoo, also done in a watercolor style. He turned me around and placed a hand on the angel wings that decorated my back, dragging his fingers down to tickle the butterfly that rested just underneath the feathers. His hand then went up to my shoulders, where there were dual tattoos that matched each other perfectly; they were from Tangled, the one on the right shoulder was the sun motif and the others on the left were a grouping of three floating lanterns. He finally yanked me closer to him where he pushed back the red curls from my left ear to admire the mermaid stamped behind my ear.

“You are so beautiful,” he whimpered as he traced the giant soulmark on my shoulder, where he had Sammi tattoo artwork that the kids had drawn up to cover the ugly scar that he had earned when he tried to defend his family from my childhood rapist,

“And you are so handsome!” I gasped as I spiraled higher… and higher… and higher… and-

I let out a screech as I began to plumet back down the earth again, slumping into Peter’s chest as he finger combed my sweaty curled from my face again.

“You are too fucking good to me, sweetheart,” Peter lavishly praised me as his dick quivered violently for a moment before exploding, already in my womb as his manly seed hopefully took a hold and started growing a baby. “You are amazing.” KISS “You are kind.” KISS “You are loving.” KISS “You are kind.” KISS “You are caring.” KISS “You are a wonderful mother.” KISS “You are my woman.” KISS “I love you sweetheart.” KISS

I could only whine as he continued to fuck me gently, all hip thrusts and soft words of love as he promised me the sun, the moon, the stars, the heavens and what laid past the horizon as he promised me a baby.

The both of us didn’t have sex- we made love to each other, sweet, passionate, gentle love as we gazed into each other’s eye through pressed together foreheads, giving a quick cuddle in between sessions. In between howls and grunts and heaving breathings and cursing and pleading at the top of our lungs until a quarter past one in the afternoon, when he called blueberry in favor of getting ready to head on back home again.

I was so exhausted after a week of being assaulted by my husband’s massive member that I could only watch as Peter lovingly cared for me, giving me a bubble bath in the tub and washing my curls for me, dressing me in clean underwear and a fresh bra before slipping me into thermal underwear, fleece lined black jeans and an emerald green knitted sweater. He carefully put makeup onto my face and braided my curls down to frame either sides of my face before setting me onto the stripped bed to hop into the shower and clean himself up.

When I woke up for the final time, I found Peter tying on his shoes and doing one last sweep of the rom for whatever we might forget to bring with us.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetheart,” he greeted me with a fond chuckle. “Are you able to walk unassisted?”

I think so daddy.

“Yeah?” he hummed, gathering up our suitcases and holding out a hand for me to take. “Well come on sweetheart. We have a flight to catch now.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE (http://ko-fi.com/A0A4A4UD) It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@starchild0985

[krakensmaw]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊 & 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓. the black encrusted bandages snug about his chest were then tinged with fresh crimson, blooming out from the point of their wound. a wince of pain, but the grin remained. ed teach was a fighter, after all. a survivor. ❛ keep your shit jokes to yourself, rackham. izzy'll kick your fuckin' ass if i bust a stitch on your SORRY account. ❜ the tone of affection betrays them, as it always does.

still, he allowed himself to be cradled. for the palm now behind his head to tip it forward in acceptance of the offering. edward drank deep 'til his throat grew tired and the excess TRICKLED from a split bottom lip. even then, he leaned back into the palm for as long as it would hold him.

❛ this guy fights like a wild animal, man. never seen anythin' like it. ❜ they sounded impressed, admiring, but it stretched even still beyond that as thoughts strayed back to the HEAT of their battle. it was reverence that kindled in edward's tone. ❛ told me i could call him death, like some fuckin' drama queen. ❜ a softer chuckle this time, purposefully kept at ease. ❛ 'an i told him i'd always wondered what death tastes like. ❜ tongue swept 'cross their lips as if recalling the sharp tang of iron upon them ; the sheer, overpowering taste of their own BLOOD.

head canted to tilt those big eyes up at jack, grinning. always grinning. ❛ think he wants me. i'll bet you ten dubloons. ❜ had to keep joking to stave off the FRANTIC thoughts of near death, the stark relief, the terror of the void. a hand rose to cover the other man's still holding the canteen. a prolonged beat of silence. ❛ you gonna kiss me or what, jack? ❜

Having drunk himself stupid the night before, after seeing Ed's lifeless body dragged on board by his would be killer, Jack woke up before the dawn, hungover and irritated and terrified. It hadn't looked like Ed would live when he was dragged back on board by his would be murderer. Jack was sure that he'd finally gone too far, finally gotten too reckless, too cocky, had gotten himself killed.

So yeah, Jack had drunk enough that he couldn't remember his own name, let alone how pale and bloody Ed had been. And now? Now he had to slink down to Ed's bed, see if he had made it through the night or if Jack was going to have to kill a stranger, a brand new crew mate, Ed's murderer.

The first thing his eyes caught, entering the dark room, was the slow, but steady rise and fall of Ed's chest. And fuck, he collapsed against the door jam, lightheaded with the rush of relief. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he steeled himself, moving forward to settle in an open chair next to Ed.

The new kid on board - looked older than Jack and Ed both but he was newest so he was kid - was dead asleep. Probably from the adrenaline drop. Jack had heard the little fucker had killed four men, nearly five, nearly Ed, and injured half a dozen more before Hornigold had stepped in and offered him a spot. Didn't seem possible, given the size of him, but here Ed was, laid up and injured.

The still lingering relief came back in a flash when those pretty brown eyes fluttered open, a chuckle at his joke, "Naw, you're alive. Just let some four foot tall midget beat the shit out of you." Jack teased back, voice hushed. Snagging a canteen off the floor by the new kid's foot, he unscrewed it, took a whiff to ensure it was water, before leaning over in a silent offer to help Ed drink, hiding the softness innate in the action by drawling, "You sound like shit."

[sunlightmurdock]

So, why do they call you Rooster? 🐓 18+

#sizekinksizekinksizekinksizekink

Request for @granolaluv <3

Warnings: Strong Language, Unprotected Sex (pls make good decisions), size kink, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex

…

“So why do they call you Rooster anyway?”

You knew you were a little behind when a chorus of giggles came immediately after you had asked the question. The team had shared knowing glances, all in on a joke that you weren’t yet privy to. Rooster had simply pushed his glasses down the bridge of his nose a little, revealing his warm brown eyes, and shot you a cheesy wink.

This earned a roar of laughter from those around you. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly over the table, eyeing the man opposite you curiously.

It was past midnight on a Saturday night, you and seven others, some of the best pilots in the world, were sitting around a table, playing Poker. Well, it had been just poker. The stakes had been heightened only ten minutes ago, when Hangman had declared the beginning of Strip Poker.

Nights on base were usually kind of boring, and you had been especially stressed about this mission. Everyone before you had been in Top Gun at the same time, you were the class two years after them. They had inside jokes and friendships, you were an outsider.

Still, they had done their best to welcome you in. What better way to break the ice than to see each other naked, after all?

Hangman, perhaps on purpose, was the first to lose around. You couldn’t ignore the grin on his face when he got to reveal his polished abs, it was like he was just waiting todo it. Your crew progressively got more undressed, until most people around the table were in their underwear. You included.

You took a sip of your beer and furrowed your eyebrows at your cards, glancing back up at the only other two left in the game, Payback and Rooster. If Payback lost this, he would have to give up his underwear and be completely naked. Rooster, however, still had his shorts on. If you lost this, the whole crew was gonna see your tits on your first night on base.

“I’m gonna fold.” You played it safe, dropping your cards and taking a sip of your beer. Payback grinned at Rooster across the table,

“I’ll raise $10.” He decided, sliding his chips in. Rooster smiled, sliding an equal amount of chips into the centre of the table. You leaned in as they both revealed their cards.

Uproar. The table erupted in laughter as they realised that Rooster had lost the round. Always a good sport, Rooster rose to his feet, standing well clear of the table thanks to his long legs. He popped open the button of his shorts. Your eyes roamed his tan chest, the small smirk toying on his lips as his colleagues cheered him on, the look in his eye like he knew something you didn’t.

You watched his long fingers drag his zipper down. His thumbs hooked into the sides of his waistband. Your gaze was interrupted by a shrill crowing coming from Hangman, imitating the noise a Rooster made. When you looked back, Rooster had slid his shorts down his thighs and was kicking them off.

Your throat went dry as he straightened up again. You finally made the connection, the punchline of their inside joke revealed to you all at once.

Rooster was wearing fitted, navy blue Calvin Klein boxers. Fitted. They were snug around his waist and thighs, fitting him like they were tailor made. But it wasn’t his waist or his thighs you were looking at. Your mouth went dry at the sight.

Even though it wasn’t hard, his dick was thick and especially long, pressed against his left thigh by the material. Your lips parted involuntarily, eyes maybe slightly wide. If this was it soft then—

You froze, feeling eyes on you. Cheeks hot, you tore your gaze away and looked up. Everyone else was still laughing and jibing him, but Rooster’s eyes were on you. You closed your mouth quickly. His grin grew.

Your pulse raced as he took his seat again and the next round started up. He glanced at you over his new hand of cards, taking his beer in his other hand and taking a drink. You looked at his hand around the beer bottle, dwarfing it. You took your own beer, wrapping your hand around the glass bottle and examining it. Holy shit.

The next round was the last, as Payback was stripped of his boxer briefs. Everyone went their own ways back to their rooms, and you had never been more relieved. Though you did wish that you would’ve been able to get your vibrator through base security.

You closed the door to your room and pressed your back to it, chest heaving with your long, deep breaths. You couldn’t help but wonder how he walked around every day with that thing between his legs like nothing was up.

Shaking your head, you walked maybe two steps from the door before you were stopped in your place by two firm knocks on the door. You turned, staring at the closed door like maybe your x-Ray vision would develop any minute. Two more knocks.

You opened it, eyes closed until it was completely open, finding exactly who you simultaneously hoped to see and feared seeing. The worst part? You didn’t even look him in the eye right away, given that your head was hung slightly, it was right in your eyeline. Those blue boxers, that thick outline.

“Are you gonna invite me in?”

You nodded at him, lifting your head to look at him, eyes widening at just how far you had to look up to meet his gaze. He hadn’t seemed to tall on the other side of the table. He had seemed tall, but not this tall.

“Y-Yeah. Come in.” You stumbled slightly as you stepped out of his way, caught by his strong hands on your waist. Ironically, they only made your knees wobble more. The beer bottle theory was correct, his hands were huge, you could feel his fingertips sprawling from your hips up to your ribs.

“You seem a little nervous.” Rooster commented, his hands remaining on your waist even once you were standing still. He took a step closer, towering over you to the point that you had to crane your neck to look at him. You weren’t the tallest, you were used to having to look up at people. Not like this.

He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, “Are you nervous?” You nodded at him. He seemed pleased with your response, taking his hand and placing it against your cheek, “I’ve got you.” He promised, stroking his thumb over your cheek, lifting your head slightly and using the hand still on your waist to encourage you onto your tiptoes as he came down and pressed his lips to yours.

You melted against him, humming contentedly as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you forward against his bare chest. To think, you met this man five hours ago. And you would be working with him for the next four weeks.

“There we go,” he praised as your hands slid along his toned torso, “I saw you staring. You wanted to touch me in there in front of everyone, huh?”

You felt the backs of your calves hit the bed and suddenly you were on your back, his hulking frame over you, his knee between your legs. You glanced across at the arm he had planted beside your head, following the tanned skin all the way up from his veined forearm to his bicep, to his thick shoulders.

His lips were at your neck, his knee nudging softly at your core as he moved. You pushed down against the feeling, peeking one eye open to see if he had noticed. His lips quirked.

“So needy,” he breathed, pushing his knee firmly against your barely clothed core. A desperate sound spilled from your lips, surprising you both. “Aw, baby — you need it bad, huh?” His voice was so delicate, almost patronising but in the most delicious way. He stroked your hair back delicately out of your face, pressing lazy kisses against your lips as you pushed against him.

He took your hand, planting it between his legs, around his semi-hard length over his boxers. “This what you need, baby?”

You swallowed. Your hand was at its base. You had seen that the tip was firmly against his thigh. Your grip barely made a dent in terms of covering the length. Rooster noticed your conflict, swiping his thumb across your lip,

“What? — you scared you can’t take it, Y/L/N?”

The pilot in your took offence at the challenge. You dipped your hand into his boxers and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, eyes firmly and defiantly locked on his, “I can take it.”

He sat back on his knees, allowing you to push his boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines. Your eyes focused on it. Your hand was still around the base, which allowed you to now realise that your fingers didn’t touch around the width of his cock. You trailed your index finger along the vein at the underside of his length all the way to the tip.

Bradley watched you make your realisations, a smirk toying at his lips.

Your grip on his cock covered maybe a third of the length. You glanced back up at him. He cocked an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to do it. Again, your stubbornness succeeded as you dipped your head down and took him into your mouth.

His fingers slid into your hair, keeping it back off of your face so he could watch you. You looked up at him, working your hand at the base of his cock as you teased your tongue against the tip of his dick. The one advantage you had here was that all of the basic mechanics of a dick were the same. You knew what to do, just on a… larger scale this time.

Rooster’s fingers curled in your hair as you sank your mouth further around his length, your fist pumping closer to the base while you fit what you could in your mouth, flattening your tongue and pushing him into your throat slightly. He groaned softly, fingers caressing your scalp, spurring you on.

Right as you felt like you were gaining some confidence, he slid his hips forward, just a tiny bit. Pulling back with a gasp, tears brimming in your eyes, you looked up at him, furious to see the grin on his lips.

“Sorry, baby.” He wasn’t sorry. “Just had to see how much you could really manage.” You narrowed your eyes at him, pushing your chest against his in a sudden surge of confidence, “Fuck me and find out.”

Rooster’s grin grew, pleased you were playing along in his little game. He pinched the clasp of your bra, popping it open and tugging it off of your body, pressing his lips firmly to yours. You lifted your hips, gasping as he discarded your underwear and slid two fingers against your core.

“You this hot and bothered over me, baby?” He pressed them both in against your entrance, listening to you let out a soft hiss as he buried them up to his knuckle. You didn’t satisfy him with an answer.

He curled them inside of you, dragging a soft moan out from you — all the answer he needed. He watched you writhe below him, pushing your hips against this hand, desperate for more. And he so wanted to give you more.

Rooster tucked an arm under you, lifting your hips off of the mattress and pressing his face between your legs, his tongue finding your clit immediately.

“Oh fuck.” You whimpered, grabbing tight fistfuls of the sheets. “I’m - fuck — fuck, Rooster, holy fuck!”

It didn’t once cross your mind that you were sharing a hallway with your colleagues, who were just on the other side of a few very thin walls. Maybe it didn’t cross Rooster’s mind either. Or he just didn’t care.

Shaken from your post climax high by your knees hitting your shoulders, your eyes flew open. You wished you saw this every time you opened your eyes. A tanned, sandy haired, ripped, giant between your legs, his fist lazily pumping his cock.

“Honey, I asked you a question. You ready?”

“Just fuck me.” You breathed, staring up at him pleadingly. His lip quirked again, his torso forcing your knees almost up to your ears as he leaned in and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth as his cock pushed at your entrance.

You gasped against his mouth, digging your fingernails into his shoulder. His hand cradled the back of your head, stroking your hair with an extremely contrasting level of care as he whispered soft praises in your ear. You whimpered under him, the stretch forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and writhe back against the mattress.

“You’re doing so good for me.” Rooster’s lips dragged open mouthed kisses across your neck, his right hand pinning your knee up against your shoulder as he sank slowly deeper. “You can take it, just a little more.”

You dragged your nails up to the back of his neck, your grip sure to leave imprints. He grunted quietly against your cheek, bottoming out finally as his pelvis met yours. He kissed your temple, “That’s my girl, show me how good you can take it, huh?”

You nodded, sliding your fingers up into his hair, keeping your eyes firmly on his as he began to rock his hips. He guided your legs over his shoulders, pinning them down against you with his body, taking his lip between his teeth.

His head lulled back as your walls clenched around him, still unused to the unfamiliar stretch. Your eyes met his when he finally opened them again, staring up at him with your lips parted, moaning each time he bottomed out.

“You look so pretty like this.” Rooster murmured, slipping his tongue into your mouth for another kiss. You felt him pick up the pace, his cock driving into you at a pace that made it impossible to keep your eyes open. Your nails were against his shoulders again, your lips panting his name.

“C’mere.” It wasn’t a question or an instruction. He pulled out abruptly, flipping you over and tucking and arm under your stomach, lifting you off of the bed and planting you on your feet all in one swift move. You stumbled slightly, your back hitting his chest, blinking until your vision stabilised again, finding your reflection in front of you now.

One hand on your hip, Bradley used the other on your shoulder to bend you over just a little, enough for him to bend his knees and align his cock once more. You inhaled sharply as his hand on your hip tightened, pulling you back on to his cock, snapping his hips up to meet you halfway. Your knees half buckled, his arm snaking around your waist to keep you upright against him.

You didn’t realise you had cried out his name until he kissed your jaw and confirmed, “I got you, honey.”

Rooster rested his slightly parted lips against the bare skin at the crook of your neck, groaning deep against your skin.

His other hand snaked up your middle, finding your throat and squeezing softly, “Look.” He grunted, his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver. His grip forced you onto your tiptoes as he straightened up, drilling into you, his eyes on yours through the mirror.

You blinked to steady your vision, still seeing white spots from how hard you had clenched your eyes shut. You moaned against him, eyes raking over the reflected image before you. Upright, he was the only thing keeping you standing, your feet were barely touching the ground due to your difference in height.

Your head lulled back against his pectoral muscles, eyes rolling back as he buried himself in you again. He kissed lazily at your neck, dragging his full lips against your skin and sucking a deep mark against the back of your shoulder. His hand slid from your throat to your chest, groping at your breast, grunting softly against the back of your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He confessed against your bruised skin. You moaned at the thought, rutting your hips back against him as much as you could against his vice-like grip.

Both in silent understanding, Rooster held you firm against his chest as he buried himself inside of you, his hips stuttering as he filled you. His lips peppered kisses all over your neck as he pulled you into you arms and lowered you onto the mattress, tucking you safely in against his chest.

He smoothed your hair down and kissed your forehead, holding you until you stopped trembling. You felt him leave the bed, furrowing your eyebrows and peeking to see where he had gone.

“I had fun tonight.” Bradley was back, kneeling on the bed and kissing your lips once, he cleaned you up delicately and tossed whatever he had chosen to use in the trash. “We should do it again sometime.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, bewildered by this sudden change in attitude. He was smiling at you, shooting you a quick wink before slipping out and shutting the door behind him.

You fell back down against your bed. What the fuck? — you pressed your hand over your mouth in realisation at where you were and what you had just done. You were going to have to deal with four more months of seeing him every day.

You were dreading the next morning. You got to class early just so no one had to watch you walk in, taking a seat at the furthest desk at the back, keeping your shades on your eyes and your head down as the rest of the class filed in.

Rooster was the last to arrive. He looked neat and tidy, beside the red scratch marks running from his jaw and disappearing under the collar of his flight suit.

You thought you might’ve gotten away with it. The crew was silent as he crossed the room. Until he passed Hangman’s desk, at which point, Hangman initiated the chaos with a shrill sounding rooster crow.

The other captains then joined in, bursting out into laughter and choruses of “oh, rooster!”

You slid down further in your seat, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. The chair beside you dragged along the concrete with a loud scrape, silencing the laughter as Rooster slid into the seat beside you and slid his hand across, squeezing your knee.

“Morning, Y/L/N.” He spoke clearly, not trying to hide your conversation. You glanced up at him, cheeks flushing even hotter as you clocked the bite marks on his bottom lip. He clearly didn’t mind one bit, sitting back in his chair comfortably, parting his knees and tapping his pen on the desk.

…

Tag List (pls let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

@20th-centu-fairy-girl

@nattygee

@blendedcookiez

@em2213

@blindedbyyourgrace17

@vensidia

@wwwpxper

@imhereimqueerandicannotdrinkbeer

@sparrows-corner

@worldsoldestpizzaslice

@needf0rspeed

@saltyturtlejudgeflap

@auggie-16

@666abby6666

@fantasy-addict354

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger) || Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) |I| Also posted at AO3

-----

Chapter 11A: Nightrain

I'm on the night train, bottoms up I'm on the night train, fill my cup I'm on the night train, ready to crash and burn I never learn I'm on the night train, I love that stuff I'm on the night train, and I can never get enough...

Soundtrack: “Nightrain,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

~~Summer 1990~~

Carefully Claire Fraser folded her legs, settling into the corner of the deep couch, stroking her daughter’s cheek as she nursed.

“Better?”

Claire glanced up at her sister-in-law Jenny, then back down at Brianna.

A soft clink as Jenny set a glass of ice water on the table at Claire’s elbow. “Much better. For both of us.”

“Yeah. I remember when my kids were that small, on the tours in ’84 and ’85 and ’87. I so loved being with Ian and going to the gigs, but it meant a cranky mama and an even crankier baby after a few hours apart.” Jenny kicked off her Keds and curled up on the other side of the couch. Watched the lights of LA shimmer in the hot summer night. “This is a killer room.”

Claire smiled. “Jamie wanted to make sure we had plenty of space.”

Jenny snorted. “A five-room suite, when I know well enough that the three of you cram into the one bedroom?”

Brianna’s eyes began to droop. Claire shifted her in the crook of her elbow, free hand caressing her daughter’s tiny legs and feet. “We’re not used to all of the space. You’ve seen our house – we don’t like anything too big. But Jamie’s treating our trip here like a vacation. Five sold-out shows at the Forum is enough to celebrate.”

“Not to mention an appearance on Leno.”

Claire smiled. “That was interesting.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow skeptically. “What was more interesting – the awkwardness when Julia Roberts thought Print was Guns N Roses? Or the awkwardness when that chick threw her bra on stage during the song?”

“Ha. Both, I guess. She didn’t get the memo that Print’s guitarist is very married to the woman he wrote that song about.”

Jenny took a long sip of water. “The girls used to go after Ian too, you know.”

“Still do,” Claire smiled.

Jenny shrugged. “I used to let it bother me. But I can’t – and I don’t anymore. I know just how much Ian loves me, and loves our family. I laugh it off, because I know he’s coming home to me every night. I hope it doesn’t bother you, Claire…”

Jamie’s laugh as he nestled with Claire in their backyard at home in North Carolina, watching their dog Rollo chasing fireflies.

Jamie’s eyes, focused and intense, as they quietly made love that morning, snug beneath the comforter of the absurdly large hotel bed, Brianna quietly sleeping in her crib by the door. How his breath stuttered when she traced the tattoos over his heart – her name, and Bree’s name, still new and raw on his skin.

Jamie at the Forum earlier tonight, fully in command before tens of thousands of fans, slamming the chords on his guitar as he played the songs he’d written for her at The Ridge. His smile as he glanced over to her, standing side stage and cheering. The taste of sweat and joy on his lips as he crashed into her waiting arms after the set, kissing her and kissing her and kissing her in the dark, the crowd roaring for an encore.

“It doesn’t bother me, Jenny. It never has.”

“I’d understand if it did, Claire…”

She shook her head. “I’m that sure of him. His love for me, and for Brianna, and our life together. And his dedication to sobriety. That’s what I remembered when I saw that tramp in the front row lift her tank top over and over again for most of the show tonight.”

“Well, you know that Angus is into that kind of thing. Poor man just keeps chasing the pretty faces.”

Bree finished, and gently Claire lifted her onto her shoulder, patting her tiny back. “He’ll be lucky if he only walks away with a broken heart, and not a case of the clap. I had to write him several prescriptions last year for – ”

“Don’t tell me!” Jenny laughed. “I get the picture.”

Claire kissed Brianna’s forehead. “I’m glad the afterparty is just up on the roof. Jamie’s exhausted. He’d never say it, of course. But I know.”

“Yeah. The final shows are the hardest.”

“And especially with a three-month-old…I don’t care that she’s a good baby. It’s exhausting.”

“I can’t wait to have Ian home. It’s been nice to come out here, and leave the kids with his parents for a few days. But I – ”

Thunderous pounding at the door.

“Claire!”

Jenny’s eyes went wide. “It’s Ian.”

More pounding “Claire! Open up! Now!”

Jenny ran across the living room and pulled open the door – revealing her husband, panting, sweat staining the neck of his Print World Tour ’88 t-shirt.

“Claire. You need to come with me. It’s Jamie.”

Claire didn’t remember slipping on her shoes or handing Brianna to Jenny, but somehow she was at the door. Ian was already running down the hall, toward the elevators.

“What’s going on?” She must have run after him, because suddenly they were in the elevator car, heading toward the penthouse.

“It’s those assholes from Poppy. I knew we shouldn’t have asked them to be our openers, even though they’re a great local band. FUCK!” Ian screamed, slamming the wall with an open fist. “I can’t believe those clowns thought they were being funny.”

“Ian – Ian, tell me what happened.” Her voice was shaking. “Is Jamie OK?”

Ian turned to face her as the elevator slowed. She saw the tears forming in his eyes.

“No, Claire. He’s not OK.”

The doors opened – and within a second, Claire knew.

A potted palm lay on its side at the elevator landing. Around the corner – from the pool deck – sounds of splashes and smashing glass.

And shouts.

Jamie’s voice.

Or, a stranger speaking in Jamie’s voice.

“COME ON, YOU PUSSY. DO IT!”

She had never heard Jamie’s voice like that.

“DO IT, YOU ASSHOLE. WHAT, ARE YOU AFRAID?”

It was him – but it wasn’t him.

She ran around the corner.

Jamie stood – shirtless – on the pool deck, fists raised, no more than a foot away from Jayce Red, the lead singer of Poppy, who sported a black eye and freshly torn shirt.

Several pieces of deck furniture bobbed in the pool. The front row girl from the concert that night sat on the steps in the shallow end, crying softly.

Up against the deck rail – with LA glowing behind them – Print drummer Angus Mhor was pounding Poppy guitarist Scott Sars in the stomach. A couple Print roadies were pushing a pile of food and smashed crockery into one corner of the deck. Poppy’s drummer and bassist – twins Tim and Tom Zim – huddled behind a pile of deck chairs.

What the hell had happened?

“I won’t hit anyone who’s high!” Jayce screamed at Jamie. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight!”

Jamie darted closer, fists still raised. “I’m not high, you motherfucker. I’ve been sober for three years.”

Jayce raised his hands. “Look, I already apologized to your bassist. It was a fucked up thing that Tim and Tom did, OK? They call you the fucking Energizer Bunny, so they wanted to see how you’d be on speed. Now we all fucking know, OK? Can we just calm the fuck down?”

“This is me calm, Jayce Red, or whatever the fuck your real name is. At least I have the balls to use my own name!”

Jayce looked across the deck, and his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Hey man, your bassist and wife are here. Just go with them, OK? I’m sorry for what those idiots did.”

“You’ll pay for all the damage,” Ian shouted. “Come on, Jamie. Settle down. Let’s get you into bed.”

“That’s right, you better the fuck pay!” Jamie screamed.

From the moment they’d met, Claire had idly wondered what Jamie would be like with substances churning through his body. One part of her always thought that he’d be more reckless. Another part always thought that he’d be a mean bastard.

Never would she have expected her worst dreams to come true.

She had to bring him back to himself – to her…

“Jamie.”

He froze. Saw Claire there, across the deck, for the first time. Still wearing the black scoop-neck top from the gig, the one he loved so much.

He dropped his fists. Sank to his knees.

She watched all the energy evaporate from his body.

And he tipped headfirst into the pool.

In medical school she had learned about adrenaline rushes. How they – briefly – infused people with superhuman strength, and provided an intense clarity of focus. Purely to help you survive.

Jamie had always loved how much smaller she was than him. How easy it was to tuck her into his side, or pick her up and throw her, giggling, onto their bed.

Now she dove into the pool headfirst. Found him splayed on the bottom of the deep end. Pushed and pulled him up to the surface, gasping. Toward the waiting arms of Angus and Ian and Jamie’s guitar tech Arch. Watched his long legs disappear up through the surface.

Only then she realized her lungs had started filling with water.

Her vision blurred and darkened. The last thing she felt was four strong arms hooking her elbows and pulling her toward the surface.

(to be continued…)

[welcometothevale]

“Yeah, see the merit in that perspective. It definitely makes things more clear cut than my theory…” She trailed off as she watched him retie her shoes, and her smile grew, “um, but as far as Áine, I’d love to meet her. From what I’ve read, she’d very magical and mothering and yeah.” When the boots were mostly snug around her feet, Rose couldn’t fight the temptation to take them for a test run. The fae lifted both feet, with effort, and got to her feet. “Whoa…”

“No, of course I knew we had different shoe sizes. I just didn’t think there was this much of a difference. I don’t go around putting other people’s shoes on.” She responded, taking her first step. Rose listened to his explanation of his shoes, managing to keep up, but she was stunned to hear each boot was ten pounds. “That is wild, and I kind of love it. I don’t understand it, but I like the challenge.” She mused as she carefully walked around her living room. When she felt confident she wouldn’t stumble, Rose shot him a playful grin. “Okay, one last experiment and then the game.”

She knew it was stupid, but it could also be insanely fun or, at least, funny. The fae turned around to give herself more room, and then she attempted a cartwheel. Her momentum slowed as she reached a handstand position, “oh, crap.” She laughed, resulting in her muscles weakening and her toppling into the floor.

Her chuckles rang through the living room and she laid in a heap. “Okay, um, go ahead and shuffle the cards. I’ll make it over there soon.”

"Yeah, fair. I have a bit of a list, I guess. I have a lot of lists for different things." She mused, eyes lighting up when the boots were placed in front of her. Rose sang the stereotypical note for when something heavenly takes place in a movie, hands up. As she eagerly—but carefully—slid on the boots, she answered his previous question.

"Of course. Well, at least I think so. I guess for me it's similar to how humans believe in a god they've never met. Áine, the faery goddess. She is said to have created us. But, there are a lot of different myths all around the world. I personally think maybe it's all the same god putting on the faces people relate to." She said, a smile in place as she tied the laces loosely. Most of her focus was on the boots instead of her mini lecture.

"Oh, wow. First, I now feel like maybe I have small feet. They're roomy. And...heavy. Did you put something in the soles of these?" She wouldn't put it past him to modify his boots the same way he'd modified other items of clothing.

[graybeards]

Starting the New Year With a Bang

I forgot to post this here, but I wrote a New Year's Eve story based on this micro story and photo I posted on Twitter.

I popped the bottle early, and sat sipping from a glass of half-decent champagne on the couch as my stepdad’s grandfather clock ticked away the last minutes of the year. I had the big show on the TV, but even if I wouldn’t be caught dead in Times Square, it just made me wish I were back home in New York as planned before my canceled flight.

Holidays with the family weren’t so bad, and snowy Michigan was beautiful, but it would have been nice to start the new year with a raucous kiss instead of a quiet evening. Mom and John had gone to sleep a little after ten. Both my sister and John’s son, and their families, had dispersed in the days since Christmas, so it was just me left to celebrate alone in the big sleepy house.

I shut my eyes and sank back into the deep sofa under a blanket, feeling the fizz of the wine on my tongue before letting it slide down and fuel the growing buzz in my head. Even after two and a half years at NYU, I was still a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but tonight I didn’t mind at all. It was a good way to dull the somber evening.

I glanced at my phone again, but my messages were still unanswered. Patrick and I weren’t dating exactly, but we were something. Something enough that we’d planned an evening together, one he was now undoubtedly having with someone else. I had no illusions about the romantic potential of a man who’d bang his own student during office hours, but he had a big dick and a thrilling wit. Even if he wasn’t likely to be my future husband, I could still dream.

The crowd’s excitement rose on TV, drawing my attention. Two minutes til midnight. I thought of tasting fine champagne on Patrick’s lips, of feeling his strong hands gripping me as the ball dropped, and my own hand idly wandered down to the growing bulge in my pajamas.

“Ahem,” a voice came from the kitchen. I startled to my feet and blushed when I saw my stepfather smirking back at me. “Sorry to interrupt, bud. Just grabbing a glass of water,” He said, scratching at his bare hairy chest as he held up his empty glass. John was tall, looming over me at 5’6”, and burly as a bear. But above all, the hefty package in his snug boxer-briefs made my eyes widen. I’d caught fleeting glances of him undressed in the hallway before, but never clearly enough to find myself dreaming of him bending me over the island counter.

“It’s nearly midnight,” I remarked, picking up a half-empty bottle from the coffee table. “Champagne instead?”

John glanced back toward the bedroom, thinking for a moment before he shrugged, “Why not?”

One minute til midnight. We met halfway between the living room and the kitchen, and my heart thumped faster in my chest with every step. He was a raw man, not unkind but quite unrefined, of the sort I rarely met in Manhattan. I felt small and soft, emasculated standing closer before him as he accepted a healthy pour with a mischievous grin.

“You’re a bad influence,” he chuckled, patting my shoulder. His palm was warm and meaty, and I thought of how it’d feel cupping my ass.

“You have no idea,” I countered, boldly reaching to run my fingers through the fur on his chest down to his belly. His eyes widened a bit and it was his turn to blush.

Thirty seconds til midnight. John relaxed when I drew back, tipping a mouthful of champagne between his lips, a few drops clinging to the thick fur on his bottom lip. We stood a bit awkwardly until he moved to stand behind the couch and I came up close beside him. It felt good to smell a man, to feel the warmth radiating off his powerful body. It was nice not to be alone.

Fifteen seconds til midnight. He fixed his gaze on the TV, standing stiffly. For a moment, I regretted touching him��a glimmer of stolen pleasure that might sully this friendship with my mother’s husband—but then I saw the shape of his cock snaking down his thigh beneath his underwear. It was enormous, and growing.

Five seconds til midnight. What would happen? I wondered, heart racing as the crowd counted down and the ball descended.

One second til midnight. I clinked my glass to his, and sipped as I whispered, “Happy New Year, John.” Fireworks went off and the crowd cheered. John faced me with a smile, gulping down another mouthful of wine. His eyebrows rose when I stepped forward, my shirt pressing to his gut, and rose onto my toes to press my lips against his as the sound of the TV faded into the background.

He took a sharp breath through his nose. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t pull away. Our arms hung awkwardly at our sides, but our lips didn’t part. He shut his eyes and I did too. I don’t know what he saw behind his eyelids, but it relaxed him. His mouth engulfed mine before closing again, snug and wet against me. His hand came to cup me at the small of my back, sliding under my shirt until I felt coarse fingertips against my smooth skin.

John let out a little groan, gripping me. His tongue pushed forward, parting my lips to probe past them. He was an aggressive kisser, and I could taste the champagne as his tongue grazed along the insides of my mouth. I was taken aback when he stepped forward, pinning me between his body and the back of the couch, and ran his fingers along the waistband of my pajamas. His fat cock throbbed against my flat stomach and I felt a wetness blossoming through the fabric of my shirt.

He pulled his tongue from my mouth and our eyes opened, fixing on each other as the reality of the moment set in. If that was all this had amounted to, it would have been enough, but John didn’t release me as he emptied the rest of his glass down his throat and tossed it aside to grip the back of my head and say, “Happy New Year, buddy. I think we ought to do a bit more celebrating. Don’t you?”

I nodded my head in a daze. John grinned as he said, “Good boy. I always like starting the new year with a bang.” Feeling his cock against me, my ass ached to be filled as I imagined it would be a big bang.

[bratkook]

tied up. (m) jjk.

pairing. biker!jk x reader genre. smut, pwp, fluff, established relationship word count. 6k of just filth <3 warnings. light bondage, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, light overstimulation, spanking, begging, sweet dirty talk, cum play/stuffing, oc tries to be in control hehe summary. jungkook would do absolutely anything you asked. which is how he found himself on his back, arms tied up above his head, with you perched on his lap and a look on your face that meant trouble. note. little valentine’s day special for deep six!couple (it’s a pwp so no need to read the original story) i hope you enjoy it, lmk what you think ❣️

Never in a million years did Jungkook expect to be in this position. He’s a tough man, always clad in leather and thick rings, covered in dark tattoos, riding around on a loud bike with his club patch adorning his back. 

Yet here he was, laying on his back with his arms above his head, while your cute self sat perched on his hips, eyes sparkling and a giddy smile on your red coated lips. All because he was so inexplicably weak for you. 

“This is what you want?” Jungkook questions for the first time in the span of ten minutes. 

When he arrived home earlier, hands holding a giant plush teddy bear with a bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath between it’s paws, his attention was momentarily on the two dogs at his feet yapping for him to acknowledge. Jungkook had been too focused on petting the tiny furballs to notice you weren’t in the room, but when the usual feeling of your hands sliding around him in greeting was missing, he stood back up with a look of confusion. 

It wasn’t until he wandered further into the house, following a small trail of rose petals that lead from the front door all the way to the bedroom, that he finally spotted you. Sitting on the center of the bed in the dimly lit room, a few candles scattered on the dresser and nightstands, flames dancing and illuminating the scene in a warm glow, casting your form in a golden hue that left you looking unreal.

A silk ribbon lingerie set that matched your lipstick hugged your curves, tied up bows covering your nipples, completed by a matching garter belt hugging your waist with gold detailed chains dangling down to your thighs. It was as if you had taken a screenshot of Jungkook’s deepest desires and brought them to life, placed right in front of him, positioned perfectly in order to pull him in.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” you had murmured so sweetly, hands placed delicately over your thighs with your legs tucked under your butt, slowly beckoning him over when he had stood in a state of shock at the door. 

It didn’t take much to get Jungkook wired when it came to you, but seeing you covered in silk ribbons, looking like the perfect present he wanted to unwrap, made his mind blank. It’s that same horndog dazed look on his face that you knew so well, roping him in with your tender kisses and roaming hands, marking his skin in shades of red in a trail from his neck to his ear. This is not entirely how he thought the night would go, his earlier plans blanking from his mind, the teddy bear he held now placed on the nightstand while you lured him in.

“I wanna try something,” you had suggested, soft breath tickling his skin and turning him into a puddle at your feet. 

“Anything.” Jungkook meant it, always willing to do whatever you wanted with unmatched enthusiasm. So when you brought out a jute rope and used your sultry voice to ease him onto his back, slowly undressing him until his top half was bare, he could feel his heart thumping erratically in his chest. 

The question he had asked minutes prior continues to hang in the air as you loop the rope under a final time and pull the bight through, pulling tight to lock the knot in and tugging gently to double check that it wasn’t pinching his skin. The red rope compliments his skin, the double-column tie keeping his hands snug against the bed frame in the perfect position. 

“This is what I want,” you confirm, fingers trailing from his bound wrists, down the veins that covered his arms, and the black ink that painted his skin. Jungkook felt a trail of fire that followed your touch, burning his skin with molten pleasure while you continued down onto his chest, fingertips feeling the bumps of the golden chain he always wore with your initial on it. You admire it for a brief moment, loving the way it glimmers on his chest before your hands continue their path, sliding down until you reach his sides, hands cupped over his ribs and feeling the racing of his heart. 

“Nervous?” you tease, teeth biting down onto your lower lip, your thumb gently soothing his skin. You had half the mind to be a brat and tickle him, knowing he had no way to swat you away like he always did now that his hands were tied to the bed frame, but you could see the small shivers racking his body from being in this position. Jungkook was horny, and a little intimidated by you. 

“You make me nervous. Always look so pretty,” he trails off softly, eyes glazed over as he observes you. There would never be a time where Jungkook wouldn’t stare at you like you were the reason the sun came up every morning, your scattered kisses mimicking the constellations you swore he placed in the sky. Everything on this earth reminded him of you and he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“Yeah, you like this?” you wonder, hands coming up to trace along the straps of your lingerie with a knowing smile. He takes another minute to admire the silk fabric, eyes focused on the caged bralette hugging your boobs, ends of the ribbon covering your nipples and bouncing when you lean back to give him a better view. The matching underwear with a tiny heart cut out of the front was the cherry on top, silky material felt along his skin from your position. “I bought it just for you.”

A small groan escapes him, tongue coming out to swipe at his piercing before he’s biting down on the soft flesh. Jungkook loved you in absolutely anything you wore, but knowing you had gone out of your way to pick this out had him wondering just how many other options you had hidden away. He’d definitely be bringing that up once he wasn’t focused on the sweet sound of your voice.

“That makes me feel special.” His hands move to touch you, so accustomed to gripping your hips whenever you’re on top of him, he forgets he’s currently restrained until the bed frame rattles and a small burn is felt around his wrists. A wince reaches your ear before he’s relaxing once more, briefly looking up to remind himself that he was tied up before looking back at you with those doe eyes that always swoon you, just now understanding what a compromising position he’s in.

“Nuh uh,” you tsk, wagging a finger at him playfully. “You can’t use your hands today.”

Jungkook honestly didn’t think this through before accepting, not realizing just how much he loved to grope and hold on to you at all times. “What's your plan? Tie me up and use me until you’re satisfied? Because that sounds like one of my fantasies.”

A sly smirk curls your lips, eyes clouding with lust, and it makes his stomach flip. He knew you meant trouble whenever you had that look on your face, and the current situation leaves him a little wary—and excited—for what you have planned. 

“Should I blind fold you too then?”

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, a small frown turning down his lips, clearly displeased with the suggestion. “Alright, that's taking it too far. You know I love staring at you, baby.” 

Jungkook slowly ruts his hips up, cool belt buckle felt along your clothed core, pushing against you when he repeats the motion once more. It makes you shiver while you lean forward, resting more of your weight against him and seeing the teasing grin on his face. Tie him up all you want, he’d even let you contort him into a pretzel if that's what you were into, but blindfolding him and preventing him from seeing the pretty faces you make as you moan over his cock? That was sick torture. 

Thankfully you weren’t totally cynical, agreeing that Jungkook bound to the bed frame with his muscular arms held up was more than enough. “I’m just teasing, Guk. You look good like this though.”

Wiggling a perfectly shaped brow at you, he already feels his cock hardening underneath you, the small ruts of your hips joining his only spurring him on further until he’s aching in his jeans. “C’mon, do whatever you want to me baby.”

Jungkook holds his breath when you lift your hand up, slowly reaching across to tuck a strand of his long hair behind his ear, thumb gently tracing the tiny scar marking his skin with a smile on your face. 

“I will,” you whisper with mischief in your eyes as you shuffle off his lap, nimble fingers undoing his belt clasp with ease, enjoying the way his stomach tenses with anticipation while you unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. His impatience shows when he lifts his hips, eager to have you yanking the denim from his thick thighs, not satisfied until you’re tossing the material aside, landing in a heap right beside his leather jacket on the floor. 

The black briefs he has on do a good job showcasing his growing bulge, slowly tenting the fabric when you gently trace your finger along his thighs, following the bold lines of ink on his skin. Almost like a ritual, you place a soft kiss to the double-headed wolf shaded in black before your fingertips dip beneath the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down his hips smoothly. 

Jungkook audibly groans at being released, hard cock bobbing in the air slightly with small beads of precum collecting at his tip, already hard and heavy just from looking at you. The prettiest veins line the underneath of it, guiding your eyes all the way up until you reach the pink mushroom head, just waiting to find its way into your mouth. 

“Fuck, I love your cock,” you marvel, pulling his underwear down all the way and letting it join his pile of clothes on the floor. He lay completely naked now, chiseled body out in the open for you to drool over, and he’s not opposed to it. The fiery look in your eyes while you trailed your gaze over every inch of him only made him squirm, desperate for you to touch him, to show him just why you wanted to have him tied up. 

“Show me how much you love it,” he rasps, teeth sinking down on his lip when you stare up at him, slowly lowering yourself until he could feel your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes are trained to detect any of his movements, from the bob in his throat when he swallows as you wrap your hands around his cock, to the tensing of his thighs when you place a teasing kiss to his swollen tip, taking note of his reactions to your touch.

A shuddering breath escapes him at the contact, once again forgetting about his limited range of motion when he goes to touch you and the headboard shakes behind him. It makes his wrists sting as the rope rubs against his skin in the same spot from before, but he couldn’t help it. The way you’re kneeling between his legs, back arched while you lean forward with your ass jutting into the air, he just wants to reach forward and give it a good smack like he always does.  

You know Jungkook inside and out, so as much as he was trying to act like he was okay with not being in control, you can tell he’s edging closer to becoming a desperate, frustrated mess underneath you. The small whine he releases when he settles his arms back into place shows you that much, and another glance up at him allows you to see the tiny grimace painting his features now, brows pinched together while you continue to tease him. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it,” you sigh, loosely pumping him in your hand, hovering your mouth above him when you stick your tongue out and let a thick trail of spit drip onto his cock. Jungkook hisses slightly at the visual, eyes focused on the way your spit mixes with his precum as you swipe your thumb along his slit. 

“Baby,” he whines, rutting his hips up and frowning when you inch back to prevent his cock from nudging your lips. The wicked smile on your cherry coated lips sends his mind spinning, fingers clenching in his palm when you tilt your head at him innocently. 

“Beg Jungkook. Wanna hear you.”

Your hands tighten around him, making his thighs tense as his hips rut up once more. “Fuck,” he cries out, raspy and desperate. “Please baby, make me feel good. Ah, just wanna feel your mouth please—“

His rambling gets stuck in his throat when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, gently flicking your tongue against him and having the salty taste of his precum fill your senses. Jungkook’s chest heaves when you hum around him, red lips circling his length as you slowly sink down, the warm wetness of your mouth making his blood simmer. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue has you mewling, eyes fluttering shut when you take him an inch further, gently hollowing your cheeks to suck in time with your hand. Jungkook can’t form a coherent thought now, focusing on the messy way you suck his cock, leaving it nice and shiny each time you pull back. Strings of spit drip down his length and gather around your palm, the wet thump of your hand coming down mixing in with the obscene slurps of your mouth.

“I like you like this,” you breathe as you pop off his dick, hands gliding across his length with the help of your saliva. It’s a torturous rhythm you have going, knowing exactly what to do to make Jungkook writhe around, applying just the right pressure, focusing on all the parts that you know would drive him crazy. 

“Yeah?” he manages to speak, arms flexing in their restraints when you lick a stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around his pink tip with a smile on your lips. 

“Mhm, you sound pretty when you beg.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re lucky I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you hum, the familiar warmth filling your chest at his confession just as strongly as it did when he first said it. Although he’s being playful you know how deep his words go, you can tell by the look in his eye, and if that wasn’t enough then the mere fact that he was allowing you to tie him up said it all. 

“How much more do I have to beg to get you to sink onto my cock?” The muscles in his neck tense when he throws his head back, gasping as you take him back into your mouth, sliding further down than before. His stomach hiccups once his cock nudges the back of your throat, muscle tightening around his length when you gag slightly at the feeling. Jungkook’s lungs forget how to function at the sight, your red lips pulled taut around his girth as you slurp back up only to repeat the motion again and again until he’s tensing underneath you, stomach caving in each time he hits the back of your throat. 

The breathy whine that spills past his lips has your underwear dampening with arousal, thighs rubbing together when you lift off of him once more, feeling the lust growing inside of you with each moan he releases. Very rarely did you ever get to see Jungkook like this, pleading for you to make him feel good, nights like that typically reserved for the days where he was exhausted from the club, easily becoming a needy mess in search of a stress reliever. But this version of him was new, and you wanted to savor it a little longer.

“Beg a little more for me, yeah?” Your eyes sparkle while you speak, sitting back up between his legs. His cock is left alone when you bring your fingers to the sides of your underwear, gently tugging at the knotted silk on each side to undo the garment, allowing you to slip them off while keeping the golden garter chain attached. 

Once Jungkook gets the view of your glistening folds, he doesn’t need you to ask twice. Instantly, he’s pleading to feel the warmth of your pussy around him, begging to see the look on your face once you sunk onto him, needing to hear the wet sound of his cock slipping into you. “P-please, wanna see my pretty baby use me. Wanna—fuck—wanna feel you cum around me.”

The soft skin of your thighs rub against his when you reposition yourself, straddling his lap with your pussy hovering a few inches above his length, and Jungkook can’t look away once you slowly lower yourself onto him. His lips press together at the sensation, the wetness coating your folds helping you grind against his cock, lower lips parting around it as you rock forward. It’s a teasing motion that tortures the both of you, the head of his cock just barely nudging against your clit each time, but it’s enough to have him groaning.

“Baby,” he whines again, jaw dropping open, brows furrowed together as his eyes move from the spot between your thighs, looking directly at you and seeing the sinfully evil smile you have on. The weight of you on him, keeping his cock pressed against his stomach while you grind against him, has a pool of precum gathering below his belly button, leaving a sticky mess on his warm skin.

“You wanna feel me?” you tease, letting your hands rest on his chest, tracing the skulls marking his skin and gasping when he ruts up in time with you. Your nails lightly dig into him when his cock rubs against your swollen clit with precision, biting down on your lip to prevent a moan from escaping.

“Please, let me feel you,” he whispers breathlessly, mind hazy with lust, skin tingling with each roll of your hips. You let his pleading go unanswered for a minute, enjoying the way his abs clench in time with your hips, smiling when his arms yank at the restraints in his dazed state, small moans leaving his swollen lips while he stares at you.

“Because you asked so nicely,” you smirk, bending forward to place a tender kiss to the edge of his lips, pulling back for a second as he chases your mouth before appeasing him and allowing your lips to meet in a heated kiss. Jungkook gasps into your mouth when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips, tangling with his while you reach between your bodies and grab his cock.

A slight raise from your hips allows you to lead him to your entrance, bulbous head prodding the tight ring of muscles, slowly breaching through in a familiar stretch. It didn’t matter how often Jungkook felt the warmth of your walls, his reaction was the same every time, moaning unabashedly into your mouth, the glide of your walls against his cock leaving him breathless. He’s patient as you ease onto him, continuing to kiss you, swallowing each other’s moans and pants until he bottoms out once you’re fully settled on top of him.

The full feeling of Jungkook’s cock would never fail to make you weak, curving just right inside of you, nudging the perfect spots like it was meant to be there. Your palms on his chest let you feel each rise and fall of his lungs, skin slightly sweaty to the touch, heart racing even faster than before. The wet smack of your lips separating fills the brief silence, faces inches from each other and the half lidded gaze Jungkook gives you makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

“You always feel so good,” you keen, lifting up slightly before sinking back down, becoming more fluid as you get used to his size. His body trembles slightly underneath you, rugged pants felt against your face when he groans at the feeling of your velvety walls wrapping around him beautifully. 

“Don’t tease me,” he sighs, arms flexing and mind going foggy from the slow pace. The pretty pout on his lips when he whines makes it all worth it though, lets you relish in the small sense of control he’s given you. 

You give in to him though, knowing just how bad he wanted this, allowing you to do what you pleased to him, and the least you could do was give him what he wanted too. With a soft smile, you’re bending forward and placing a kiss to the golden chain, not feeling the way his heart skips a beat as he stares at you, the warm light of the room casting you in an angelic glow that only made him fall for you further. 

“Sorry,” you giggle, grabbing his chin before you kiss him, sweet and tender as if you didn’t have him bound to the bed frame. Jungkook can’t even make light of it all, a choked moan of your name reaching your ears when you pick up the pace of your hips, skin slapping together each time you come back down. 

His hooded gaze meets yours, locked onto your every move: the bounce of your breasts while you ride him, still caged behind that bralette he couldn’t rip off with his hands, thighs tensing with the rise and fall of your hips, pussy sucking him in each time, arousal dripping down his length and staining the sheets below you.

“Fuck baby, just like that.” The husky drawl to his voice ignites a small fire within you, hot desire building inside you. The euphoric feeling spreads to every limb on your body, the thickness of his cock spreading you apart deliciously, taking over your rational thinking the way it always did, leaving you drunk off his cock as you succumb to the feeling of it all. 

He smirks lightly when you quiver above him, core tightening each time the head of his cock nudges deep inside you, rubbing along the sweet bundle of nerves he knew all too well. Your hips continue to lead you back to that same spot, cursing each time the jolt of pleasure courses through you. A trembling moan blends in with the sounds around you, walls tightening around his cock when you lift up, resting more weight on his chest when you lean forward for leverage. The angled position has your clit brushing against his pelvis, delicious friction that makes your orgasm creep up on you. 

“Fuck Guk,” you whimper above him with your eyes fluttering closed, missing the awed look he gives you, how his eyes trace the arch of your brows when you pull them together, following the curve of your mouth pushed into a pout with lips coated in a sheen of your saliva—something he desperately wants to feel against his own lips. Jungkook doesn’t fail to see how the table has turned, how easily you’ve become the whiny mess you were so determined to have him be. He loves it like this though, loves to see you shuddering with ecstasy, all because of him. 

“You gonna cum?” he wonders, voice thick and dripping with want. No longer passive, his thighs tense as he starts to fuck up into you, chuckling when you lean fully over him, allowing him to do more of the work once you start to lose momentum. A strained moan is your only response, cheek pressing into his chest as he pistons his hips into you, the lewd sound of your skin slapping together louder than before. Jungkook smiles down at you, seeing the way your body rocks in time with his thrusts, mouth dropping open while you drool over his cock. 

“C-close,” you cry, nails digging into his skin, half moon indents blending in with his chest piece while you try to find your bearings. With a bit of struggle, you lift your head once more, eyes glazed over with lust and you frown at him. “This was s-supposed to be about you.”

His hips speed up now, fingers itching to reach forward and cup your jaw, wanting to bring you closer to kiss the frown from your face. “This is about me. Love seeing you like this.” Jungkook groans as you get impossibly tighter around him. “Cum for me baby, please.”

His begging is what pushes you over the edge, wet gasp sticking to your throat once your climax washes over, incoherent mumbles of his name sounding like music to his ears. Your body trembles above him as your juices soak his cock, slurred curses spoken into the air while another gush of wetness escapes you, leaving his thighs wet with remnants of your orgasm. 

“My pretty baby,” he coos, continuing to rut into you as you whimper, sensitive walls pulsing around him, sending light sparks of overstimulation through you. “Let my arms go angel, wanna make you feel special too.”

Still drunk off your high and vision spotty, you weakly nod, fingers slowly undoing the knot you made until his hands are finally free.

In a flash, he’s pushing you back onto the bed, messy cock slipping out of you in the process. Once his large hands are gripping your skin, everything feels right with the world, soft flesh between his fingers when he grabs your ass as he flips you over, exactly where they belonged. 

Jungkook takes his time, allowing his palms to roam your skin, acting as if he hadn’t been in this exact position last night. He traces over the golden chains along your thighs, admiring them like you had admired the chain on his chest, following them to your waist, up your back until he’s unclasping your bra and finally discarding it to the side. 

The sudden movement has you dazed, not even realizing when he had pushed you onto your knees with your hands holding you steady. The soft material of the sheets is felt beneath you, fingers gripping them while you whimper in anticipation.  

“You had your fun baby,” he sighs, fisting his cock and leading it back towards your drenched entrance. “Let me have mine.”

“Jungkook,” you mewl, arching your back further for him. His palm soothes your skin once he gently sinks back into you with a wet squelch, both hands now gripping your hips when he starts the quick pace you were both accustomed to. Your thighs spread further apart for him, keening when he sinks deeper into you, fisting the sheets as he filled you up. 

Jungkook is focused on the view of his cock stretching you open, how you’re creaming it each time he pulls back out, more of your arousal coating your thighs in a sinful mess. “Love this view,” he groans, one of his hands rearing back to deliver a rough smack against your ass, smirking when the flesh jiggles from the force. The sting spreads to your core, makes you squeal in surprise as your skin smarts and tingles, warmth intensifying when he swiftly delivers two more smacks to the same spot. “Love you.”

The sweet confession makes your walls tighten, a small cry released into his sheets as you rut back into him, meeting his thrusts in time with your own in a messy rhythm. “Love you too, so much—fuck.”

“Do you?” he jests, leaning over your body until his golden chain dangles against your shoulder, free hand clasping over yours and digging into the mattress. “Is that why you wanted to tie me up?”

A playful laugh escapes you, turning into a filthy gasp when he speeds up his thrusts, thighs smacking against yours, bed creaking under the movement. “Yes,” is all you can choke out, shivering at the ticklish feeling of his chain rocking along your skin. 

“You gonna let me tie you up next time and do whatever I want to you?”

“God, yes. Whatever you want Jungkook.” He huffs out a laugh, knowing you mean it, knowing you would indulge every one of his desires with no questions asked. You were his match made in heaven, aligning perfectly with every one of his wants and needs, and he’d forever wonder how he got lucky enough to have you enter his life. 

His right hand reaches for your face, cupping your jaw and turning you to face him, lips meeting yours in a frenzy. His fingers dig into your cheek, tongue slipping into your mouth with a shared moan, hips never losing their momentum. It leaves you in a haze, sighing into the kiss when his tongue tickles the roof of your mouth. 

“Wanna fill you up,” he whispers between smacks of your lips, letting his tongue trail against the seam of your lips before kissing you again. “Leave you nice and messy.”

“Please,” you pant, jaw slack when he angles his hips, cock hitting your gspot with precision, your sensitive walls spasming around him. “H-harder.”

“Whatever you want baby,” he murmurs, giving you another kiss before straightening up, both hands tightly gripping your hips while he gives you the rough pace you asked for. Your upper body gives out on you, face burying into the sheets as your senses overflow with him, body jostling forward with each snap of his hips, nipples grazing the sheet beneath you and making you mewl.

The sweet moans of your name he lets out, fingers burning your skin as he holds on to you, cock filling you up perfectly, it's all you can think about. And when he sneaks a hand around your body, fingers meeting your sensitive clit, you nearly shriek at the stimulation. 

Jungkook feels his own climax creeping up his spine, giving your ass another slap and groaning when you tighten around him. Your thighs tremble against his, hands yanking the sheets while you melt into his touch, moans getting breathier with each flick of his fingers. The pressure builds in your core, whole body tensing up when your second orgasm of the night makes itself known. 

“Guk.” It’s a guttural moan, needy and drawn-out, your hand mindlessly reaching behind you in search for his. He grabs it instantly, lacing your fingers together and anchoring you to him as your mind starts to float, continuing to circle along your clit with his hips never slowing down their intoxicating pace. 

With a final flick against your bundle of nerves, you’re pushed over the edge once more, falling head first into your orgasm so fast it shocks you. Your eyes slip shut, flashes of light displayed against your lids, goosebumps flaring across your skin while the white-hot pleasure consumes you. 

Jungkook curses at your walls sucking him in, attempting to milk his orgasm out of him as he continued to fuck you through it. Your hand grips his tightly, soft mewls filling the air while your body twitches and shudders, breath hiccuping as you come down, knees barely able to hold yourself up. His strong hold keeps you steady, golden chains around your messy thighs swinging from the force of his thrusts. 

“Shit baby,” he grunts, thrusting into you in quick bursts, desperate to feel his release. Your thumb gently rubs along his palm, quiet pleas begging him to fill you up, wanting to feel his cum drip out of you the way you loved. Jungkook’s hips lose their rhythm, fucking you with urgency, jaw clenched tightly when the familiar feeling overtakes him. With a few shallow thrusts and another quiet proclamation of love, he’s pushing deeper into you as he cums, warm bursts of white painting your walls, filling you up until it drips out of you around his length. 

The harsh breaths of both of you fill the now silent room, the thrumming of your heart felt in your ears as everything settles around you. Your limbs feel sore already, ass aching from where he delivered the harsh slaps, but the dopey smile on your face shows no complaints. 

You’re the first to move, gently prying your hands apart and allowing him to slide out of you. The slight gush of his cum escaping only makes you squirm, more so when his fingers stuff it back into you with a chuckle. He can’t look away though, focused on the thick globs of cum coating your folds, disappearing once more as he fills you up again. When you whine in protest he slips his fingers back out, smiling sweetly before he peppers kisses onto your back.

“I’m just trying to prevent the sheets from staining.” 

“Yeah right,” you snort, flipping over onto your back and smiling up at him. These sheets were as good as ruined, they typically were whenever you two decided to roll around and make a mess. “You’re trying to knock me up aren’t you?”

He only rolls his eyes while he crawls over you, long hair framing his face while he gives you his boyish smile. “Maybe,” he shrugs, placing a tender kiss to your lips before kissing the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls back, you let your hands cup his face, taking a good moment to admire your boyfriend, tracing every one of his features that you had memorize, your favorite being the slope of his nose leading to the curve of his lips, second favorite being the tiny mole below his mouth that you loved to kiss. Jungkook always let you take as long as you wanted, staring down at you with glimmering eyes and a sweet smile, taking his own moment to admire you as well. 

“Did you even notice the gift I brought you?” he questions lightly, eyes looking over to the teddy bear and bouquet of flowers. Your head cranes back to see what he was talking about, letting out a delighted gasp when you spot it. He snickers when you twist around on the bed, scrambling over to grab the cute gift in your hands, sniffing the flowers once you do. 

“I love them,” you beam, fondly staring down at the plush toy with the sewn on heart, both your initials embroidered onto it. “Sorry I ambushed you earlier.”

Jungkook grabs a pair of his sweats from his drawers, slipping them on before handing you one of his shirts once he stands beside you. He didn’t mind his own plans for the night being slightly derailed if it lead to this. “Ambush me all you want,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Just remember, you told me I could do whatever I want next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” His playful laugh fills the air when your elbow digs into his side, making him squirm, arms refusing to let go of you despite your attack. He only loosens his grip when you turn around, hands falling around your waist as your own hands settle around his shoulders. 

“Happy Valentine’s day. I love you.” His smile is wide as he looks down at you, cheeks pushing out in a way that keeps his innocence and makes you want to pinch them until they’re pink and he’s giggling for you to stop.

“I love you more,” you breathe out with a matching smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. He sighs into it, letting himself melt into the slow motion, hands bringing you closer to him as he deepens it. But before it could go any further, a yap and a few scratches to the door pull you apart. 

“You sure you want kids?” you joke when he walks over to open the door, the two dogs rushing into the room for attention, stretching out their legs onto you as their tails wag. 

Jungkook settles onto the floor, allowing the youngest dog to climb onto his lap, standing up to lick at his jaw. “If it's with you, I want twelve.”

You can’t hold back the loud laugh you let out and he joins in, turning to stare at you when you playfully nudge his shoulder with your foot. “Keep dreaming Six. You know you’re not ready to give up your bike just yet.”

He knew this, perfectly content with the two dogs you currently had, only enjoying teasing you with the ridiculous number of kids and dogs he suggested. But Jungkook also knew that when the time was right, things would fall into place. And as he stares at the room, seeing an abundance of photographs of the two of you, newer photos showing the puppies you had adopted, there's only one thing he’s certain about: as long as he's with you, nothing else matters.

[poeticmindsemporium]

The Coat in the Corner On a long, narrow road that lead out of town There stands and old public house, the old Rose and Crown Used by many for many a year For the genial conversation the Whisky and Beer Old Mavis the barmaid now long past her best Still has a great smile and rapport with each guest Jim Inchcliff, the Landlord has seen them all come and go Those who for years had struggled through the deep winter Snow Just to partake a Real Ale and an old stale Pork Pie That seemed to have been on the bar for many a blink of an eye Old Rover, Jim’s dog, must be twenty years old or more Who hardy ever moved seemed stuck to the floor The old sign creaked when the strong wind did blow What with that and the noise from the resident Black Crow Who lived in the eaves and had nested there for years And had seen all the comes and goings, the laughter and tears But the strangest situation that no one could fathom out Was in the old Snug Bar, amongst the Brown Ale and Stout For over in the corner was an old khaki army coat That belonged to old Barney the right reverend Stoat Who had been Vicar of the Parish for over year’s five score and ten Who disappeared suddenly one dark stormy night? In the wind and the hail that gave everyone a fright Such was its ferocity with trees falling down Making it impossible to drive cars in or out of town The rain was lashing, river swelled up, broke its banks Flowing freely like water escaping from tanks Causing a local mine to capsize underground trapping men deep below Were they alive or dead, it was hard to know Rescue teams worked all through the night and next day Saving many as they could, though a few perished away Now old Barney may have been the town vicar but unbeknown to all Was in fact a war hero in both wars you know a man who stood tall No stranger to danger so rushed to the Miners aid To offer what assistance he could while the wives wept and prayed No one realised that he had gone down with the rescue teams As the water rushed in bringing down the large heavy beams That propped up the pit face, to keep them safe from harm But now was disintegrating causing great alarm However, the rescue was completed and thankfully everyone survived Or so everyone thought until they realised one had died The poor vicar had given his life to help those in need And no one ever forgot the Reverends brave deed That is why the old coat hangs in pride of place Over in the corner by the big fireplace Nobody has wanted to remove it as a mark of respect for one who died Trying to save others whose name was always talked about with pride So if you travel to Old Romney a town of note Always remember, never to remove that old coat From that bar where it’s been for many a year For it’s a sign to others of what unselfish, real heroes are so just shed a tear

[loisroo]

the original post I was tagged in is here —the post had started to get long and my adhd brain is like crawling out of its skin so i made a new post.

you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs- i used five playlists and two songs from each.

then tag ten people! no skipping!

thank you for the tag @thearovamp i love doing things like this and i can’t wait to listen to some of your songs!!! 🖤

1. hurricane by fleurie

2. soulmate by lizzo

3. surface pressure by jessica darrow

4. venom by stray kids

5. drink too much wine by sophia scott

6. boyfriend by dove cameron

7. green light by lily rose

8. like that by jp saxe

9. the night by choi baek hi

10. searching within by yokai creations

no pressure tags: @katierosefun @snug-gyu @snimeat @thoresque @tiffanylamps @elytrians @mikkaeus @lasenbyphoenix @cafedecanela

ALL the pressure tag: @evil-moonlight 😘